Daphne

(2) The Incubus

Daphne heard noises. Sounded like a party. She wasn't sure if she was dreaming, or if she was in that semi-conscious-state where you're not exactly awake but still aware of the world around you. She blinked twice and realized she was in her room, laying on her back, on her bed. The light was on. Down the hall there was a Friday night dorm party raging. She was groggy and couldn't remember how she got there. She looked straight up at the cracks on the ceiling for a long moment, then decided to join the party – the earlier problem of a dull weekend now conveniently solved. She tried to get up, but couldn't move. She lazily turned her head to her right. Her right wrist and ankle were tied together. The other end of the rope was affixed to one of her bed's head-posts. This is odd, she thought. It took a moment for her to understand what she saw. Suddenly alarmed and instantly jogged wide awake, she looked to her left, and saw her left extremities were identically secured to the corresponding foot-post. She pulled at her bonds with all her might, with both her arms and legs, but all she accomplished was to exhaust herself – and to slide her butt partway off the edge of her mattress.

She raised her head and was shocked at what she saw: not only was she tied–up, naked in her room, but the door of her room was wide open! Just then, beyond the shrubbery of her Venus Mons, she saw a group of frat brothers walk past the opening, down the hall towards the cacophony. The last one glanced in as he passed and their eyes locked just as he vanished. In a flash he reappeared. Daphne's heart stopped.

He entered. "Hey guys!"

Daphne tried to protest, but something filled her mouth. Her nostrils flared and her chest heaved, but she emitted no sound. Oh, God, NO! Daphne tested her bonds. She looked first to her right wrist/ankle, then to her left. The knots, which were just beyond her reach, didn't budge; they actually appeared to tighten the more she strained against them. The boy's already half–drunk friends stumbled in. "What's this?" one of them asked. "Looks like Steve really knows how to throw a party" the first replied. "Look at the party favor he's sharing with everyone!" There were four of them and they assaulted her at once, at first satisfied to simply touch her everywhere, probing her, as if to satisfy themselves that the apparition before them was not a product of an alcoholic haze. The first frat boy dropped his pants and declared "I'm gonna make a deposit in the sperm bank!" Daphne desperately strained at her bonds with renewed vigor, but it was hopeless.

Daphne felt a soft penis slide up and down her crotch. She felt it grow firmer as she coated it with her ever abundant lubricant. Meanwhile, the kneading of her breasts and other stimulation continued unabated. She knew what would happen next and strained futilely at her bonds, but it was no use. Daphne could do nothing but accept the inevitable. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Her inner labia parted and she felt her sex gently kiss her invader. It was poised at the entrance of her sex for what seemed like forever, and then it suddenly filled her.

<Gasp!>

Daphne jolted, almost spilling her coffee.

She blinked a couple of times, then looked right and left, and realized she was still at the cafe. Leo was outside in the distance, but still in sight, chatting with some other girl on the Mall.

It was so real...

Shaking, she got up. She squeezed past several tables on her way to the sidewalk. She was sweaty and trembling, and the closer patrons sensed her sweet aroma. She raced home.

Arriving at her studio, she slammed the door shut. Fumbling, she turned the dead–bolt. And double-checked it. Good! Latched! She checked it again just to be sure. Good!

Variations of the episode in the cafe had played three more times before she got home. By then she was hornier than she could remember. Ever. She shucked-off her pants and panties in one move instantly and, feet spread and semi-standing in a crouch, she masturbated herself on the spot rather than waste even the precious seconds it would take to get down and lay on the carpet, much less traversing the room to get to a chair or the bed – it needed to be done NOW...

She felt strangers touch and ravage her. Electricity coursed through her being. She felt herself falling.

Breathing heavily, she opened her eyes. She awoke on her knees with her face in the carpet pile, her hips in the air – and both hands between her spread legs – as the blissful tingling faded. Raising unsteadily, she made her way to the shower. It felt good until a wayward spray shot her in the crotch and dropped her to her knees. She caught her breath and stood unsteadily when it happened again. She decided to soak in a bath instead...

Daphne lay in the warm water, recalling that she had been well into puberty when started to think about boys romantically. One in particular. She had a crush on a boy in her class who lived down the street, but he paid no attention to her and a fantasy sprouted in her imagination. It started with hugging and kissing, which seemed pretty exciting at the time... She later began to imagine him stroking her developing breasts. She stroked herself, imagining his tender touch. Over time she imagined exposing more and more of her charms to him – and imagined that he desired her and dreamed of pleasing him by completely baring her body to him. Her fantasy escalated over time until, finally, she dreamed of offering her totally naked self to him as an irrevocable gift – helplessly tied to a park bench (or some other semi-public place) with her arms and legs spread as wide apart as possible – when his family moved across the state. He never knew her feelings towards him, but the sweet fantasy invaded her dreams a few times a year ever since. Although the imaginary target of her affection changed, what she offered – her entire naked self – never did.

Her sweet fantasy, formerly a dormant volcano, erupted with a vengeance. She went out alone to a movie and later, returning home, she dreamed of herself naked, helplessly tied to a park bench, and ravaged in a dark public park by a crowd of total strangers. On Saturday night it was a bus bench. On Sunday night it was in the park again, this time on a picnic table. Every morning she woke up with wet sheets and an itch between her legs.

In a way, her wish on the Mall on Friday afternoon had been granted; she had avoided a weekend of boredom.

Daphne's classes were a continuing nightmare of humiliating public sex waking-dreams. The large lecture halls were the worst, where she imagined herself not merely naked, exposed, and ravaged, but a live video feed projected onto a large screen so everyone in the 200-person capacity lecture hall could be assured of a good view.

Her fantasy kept popping into her mind all week. Every park bench. Every bus stop. Every crowded public place... Every day and every night, every place. On Tuesday she started to carry a baggie in her purse with at least two clean panties (usually four or five) and another for the wet ones...

She was living in a nightmare that she couldn't wake up from, constantly seduced by a demon of her own creation that she couldn't slay.

She replayed her interview with Leo over and over in her mind. One thing he said in particular kept coming back; that fantasies linger and don't go away as long as they're just fantasies...

She realized that she needed to talk to Leo again. And soon, before she lost her mind completely.