I met Mark on a dating app, and we seemed to have a good rapport through our messages. He was funny and wasn’t afraid to give me a little bit of a hard time in a flirtatious way. I told him about my breeding kink, and we talked vaguely about enjoying rough play, but I was embarrassed to give more detail than that. He said he didn’t mind and that we’d figure things out as we went.

Despite having fun messaging him leading up to the date, when we actually went out, Mark seemed tired and almost disinterested. He wasn’t really meeting my gaze and didn’t seem to hear much of what I was saying, at times. Honestly, it made me feel a bit self-conscious, wondering what about me he didn’t like.

That said, he repeatedly encouraged me to order whatever I wanted, which seemed thoughtful at the time. But, later it would make sense why he wanted me to drink so much whiskey while only sipping on a beer himself. He became a lot chattier after our food arrived, telling me about his construction business and asking me about my work, which gave me a little hope, and when he swiped the bill to pay, I was appreciative. It seemed like this date wasn’t really going anywhere after all, but was nice to be away from that night, at least.

When he asked me what kind of wine I liked and offered for me to come back to his place for a glass, I was surprised but accepted. In his living room, we talked more about ourselves and exchanged sarcastic banter. Finally, he seemed to be opening up, and I was enjoying myself, smiling wide for the first time that evening. It was only once I’d drunk half my glass of wine that things took a turn.

“Go ahead and finish that,” he said with a sly smile, “I’ll pour you another.” I thought about playfully giving him a hard time for rushing me but instead laughed and gulped down the contents of the glass.

I turned away to set my glass on the coffee table, and the moment I did, the steel trap of his right hand closed around my throat and slammed me hard against the couch. The back of my head struck the drywall behind me painfully, and my head spun. I didn’t understand. Weren’t we just laughing? Was this a game?

“Wha-?” I didn’t get to finish the word, much less the question. His hard knuckles smacked into the side of my face as he back-handed me. “Sto-!” I tried to cry out, telling him to stop, but was cut off again by an ever harder slap as his palm met my cheek.

As I felt his hand tightening at my throat, my eyes flicked to his and searched for an explanation, but all I found were empty, dark pools of brown. He was so much stronger than I could’ve imagined. My own fingers scrambled to undo the vice grip digging into the soft flesh of my neck, but that only prompted him to slap me again a few more times, shove my hands down, and bring his other hand to lock around my neck, too. With an emotionless concentration that scared me on its own, he watched his hands slowly strangle me.

“P-l-eaaase,” I wheezed out, my fingers finding little purchase between his hands and my throat. This wasn’t what I expected at all. My legs flailed and my socked feet slid uselessly over the thick carpet. He wasn’t that much taller than me, but his profession made him muscular, and with just the strength of his hands, he had me. I’d only been choked like this one other time and broke up with the guy over it. Yet, here I was again, somehow…and I was scared. With both of his hands strangling me, he kissed me deeply.

By my neck, he lifted me off the couch, as I danced to keep up with his steps and breathe what little air I could, afraid that resisting would lead him to choke me harder, and I could already feel tears forming in my eyes. It hurt so much, and I was afraid of what would happen to me if he became even more aggressive. Through the doorway, across the kitchen, and all the way to the upstairs landing, he dragged me with him wordlessly. Once we got to the doorway leading upstairs, my fingers shot out and latched onto the wooden doorframe, digging in with my fingernails.

Finally, he let me go, and I turned on my heels to run, but his hands found me again - one grabbing a fistful of my hair and the other prying my fingers from the doorframe one by one until, again, he had me. As he grappled with me and dragged me, I pushed away from him and hit the top of my head hard on an oddly placed wooden beam. “You’ve got to watch your head, little one,” he smirked at me as I moaned in pain.

As I reached for my aching head, he dropped me unceremoniously onto a bed and I sprawled onto my back with my legs hanging off the side. As my head swam and I begged silently for the pain to stop, he said in a humorous tone, “Well, now I can give you the full tour. This is my bedroom.”

I felt his hands removing my pants, simply pulling them off without bothering to untie them. My shirt and bra were next, awkwardly pulled over my head one after the other. I weakly pushed his hands away, but that just earned me another slap across the face. He dragged me toward him, turning me on my side, and slapped my ass so hard I screamed. I’d never been slapped so hard before, but it didn’t stop. His heavy, calloused hand fell against my bare bottom and thighs again and again.

“Please!” I screamed at the pain. My head spun, as I begged, “I’ll do whatever you want! Whatever you want! Please!” He slapped me again, only slightly less hard, and murmured, “That’s a good bunny…Now, flip,” he ordered firmly.

My black g-string, he let me keep, the only covering I had left. As I flipped over, I felt the thin black material wedging further between my cheeks as he roughly yanked it higher, using it to lift me slightly off the bed then squeezing my ass with both hands. He pulled me back by my hips so that I was on all fours, then roughly grabbed the back of my neck and shoved my face into his pillow.

“Don’t fucking move,” he sternly commanded, “If you move a muscle, I’m going to hurt you.”

Several minutes passed in silence save the sound of him rummaging through a dresser in the room. Afraid of the more pain, I obediently stayed put. Eventually, I heard his heavy footsteps returning. Feeling his weight sinking into the mattress, I opened my eyes but only long enough to be plunged back into darkness as he roughly forced a blindfold over my head.

Panic began welling up in my chest and, without thinking, I reached for the blindfold. That was a mistake. He clambered on top of me in an instant, wrapped his arm around my neck, and trapped me in a chokehold. Now, I really began to cry. I couldn’t breathe. All that came out were the sounds of me choking. I couldn’t even gasp for air.

As I began to truly fear he would go too far, he released me. I couldn’t do anything but gasp for air as he quickly fastened a cord through the slats of his headboard, looped the cord around my wrists, and lashed it tight.

Roughly, he pulled me back toward him, forcing me to arch my back with my ass in the air. I felt him pull my g-string to the side, heard the squirt of lube, and felt him rubbing the cold gel on my asshole as he said, “Now you better be good, or I’ll wipe off this lube and use my cock instead.” Then, he began slowly pushing a plug into my ass.

I tried my hardest not to resist; he’d already proven he wasn’t afraid to hurt me and had already gone further than I imagined, but I don’t do anal almost ever and hadn’t used even a plug in a long time. As I whimpered and shook, he praised me, saying, “Thaaat’s a good bun. You’re okay.” One of his hands rubbed affectionately over the bruises forming on my ass, “You can take it,” he murmured softly.

Before long, the plug was forced all the way inside me. I felt him reach around to affix something in front of me. When he grabbed my hair, yanked my head back, and told me to open my mouth, I felt him guide my head to a dildo now attached to his headboard.

“Your mouth doesn’t come off this toy or my cock is going in your ass. It won’t be slow. It won’t be gently. I won’t be nice. Do you understand?”

I nodded my head, saying, “Yes,” but that wasn’t the answer he wanted. He yanked my hair and asked, “Yes, what?” With my head still feeling so fuzzy, it took me a moment to understand. “Yes, Daddy,” I replied.

“Good girl,” he cooed, shoving my mouth onto the toy. Behind me, I heard the sound of a condom wrapper tearing. A moment later, I felt something thick spreading me. The next thing I knew, he had shoved half his cock inside of me all at once. I screamed out at the sudden intrusion of my poor pussy getting stretched so wide so suddenly. I yanked hard against the rope, but it held me fast.

Grabbing my shoulders, he forced himself deeper and deeper inside until I felt the head of his cock pushing hard against my cervix and his balls were resting against me. “Theeere we go,” he sighed almost as in relief. For what felt like an eternity, he fucked me, gagging me dildo with each thrust until he got so rough that the force knocked the toy loose & it fell down.

I couldn’t say how long it took him to come, an hour - two hours - but eventually he collapsed against me. I laid there, crushed under his body, the added weight straining the ropes around my wrists. Eventually, he climbed off of me. The blindfold had slipped at this point, and I watched him warily as he grabbed a towel and cleaned himself up.

Soon, he returned and untied me, laying me on my back. He was gentle now, slowly wiping down and caressing my thighs. I didn’t know what to think. “Come here,” he ordered, this time with warmth in his voice and eyes. He laid down next to me and opened his arms, pulling me in. “You’re alright,” he said softly, as he stroked my hair.