The Rain Lover
Even now, a few months later, it still makes me shiver a little when I think about it, as if it was that cold winter’s day again. But when I shiver, it’s not just from cold, or fear, it’s because...
It may be better if I tell you the whole story, and then you will understand.
It was just after Christmas, and it had been snowing for a couple of days, leaving a few inches of snow on the ground as I got dressed, in order to go and do some shopping. I had already put on a white t-shirt and grey sweater, and was fastening one of my favourite pairs of jeans around my waist.
Looking out, I could see the paths had been partially cleared, but there were still some deep drifts out there, so after I put my glasses on I found my brown fur jerkin, and put that on, before finding my Wellington boots.
Made of green rubber, I made sure the bottom of the legs of the jeans were tucked into my socks, and then pulled them on, using the little strap and buckle to tighten them before I grabbed my handbag, and headed out.
I was sure I closed the door to the flat behind me – honestly, I was sure I had, and it was certainly closed when I came back. I fished my keys out of my handbag, let myself in, closed the door, put my bag down and looked at myself in the hall mirror, brushing some snowflakes from my hair – and then screamed as someone grabbed me, a gloved hand clamped over my mouth and an arm round my waist!
Well, I grabbed the arm attached to the hand over my mouth, and I tried to pull it away, but all that did was make whoever was holding me pull me more firmly against their breasts, and I...
Their breasts? It was a woman holding me? That was confirmed when I heard a woman tell me to stop struggling, or I would only hurt myself.
“Whdduwntt?” I mumbled, and that was when she told me about the knife in her belt, and although she didn’t want to use it.
The arm round my waist disappeared – but that was only to allow her to show me the knife, and for her to remind me she didn’t want to harm me, but...
Well, I was too scared to do more than whimper, and as she took her hand away and turned I got a look at her. She was wearing a blue bomber jacket with fur trim, denim jeans with the knees tucked into blue denim boots and a hat over her long brown hair, as well as dark glasses.
She told me to find my mobile phone, and as I fished it out of my purse and handed it to her I wondered why. The answer came as she took out the battery, and threw it into the kitchen, before she waved with the knife in a way that indicated I should go into the front room.
“Pity you came back before I left,” she said as I walked in, “means I have to stay a while longer and make sure you can’t raise the alarm. See the couch? Kneel in front of it, and put your hands behind your back.”
As I walked in, I could see where she had emptied drawers to find things, and a small rucksack. But I was too scared to do anything except kneel down, my boots squeaking as I did so, and put my hands behind my back, while she went into the bag and took out a coil of thin cotton rope.
Using the knife to cut off a length of about six foot in length, she doubled it over and then knelt behind me, crossing my wrists and then pulling the cord around them so that they were held firmly together.
“What are you doing?” I said as I felt the thin cords go round and then between my arms, before she tugged and tied the ends off. I tried to find them, the knot, anything to give me hope I could do something about it – but there was nothing I could find.
As I twisted my wrists around, I glanced to the side and saw her cutting another length of cord off with the knife. “Don’t move,” she said quietly, as I heard her kneel behind me, and then she wrapped the cord around my ankles, and pulled them together.
It was an incredibly strange feeling, as the cord pulled not only my ankles together, but also the welly round my ankles. I could feel the rubber pressing down around my leg as the rope was pulled tight, and heard the squeak as the cords rubbed on it, but it was that constriction, as she wound it round both legs and pulled it tighter with each pass.
By the time I thought she had done, I could not move my legs – and if I tried, there was that squeaking. But then I felt her pass the rope between my legs, making it even tighter, and then she tied it off. I knew I was going nowhere, but something about that sound my legs was making was giving me thought. It wasn’t uncomfortable, don’t get me wrong, it was just – different.
“There – that’s a start,” she said as she stroked her hands down my arms, and then doubled over the remaining length of rope, wrapping it round my upper body and then pulling my arms into my sides as I gasped. My jerkin was pulled open in what one simple move, and yet it felt so different, as she passed it round several times, going above and below my chest, stretching my jumper tightly over my breasts and pinning my arms to my side.
The feel of the ropes, and her hands on my body as she did this, made me squirm – which made my boots squeak again, which made me feel very strange indeed. I wondered what else she was going to do – and then, as she tied the ropes off behind my back and checked they were firm, I turned my head, my eyes widening as I saw her take a second coil of rope from her bag.
“I always come prepared,” she said as she saw me looking, and then smiled as she cut the rope in three parts. She took the first part and knelt behind me, and I felt her tying it to the bands at my back, before she fed it under my left arm and pull I up in front of me, tightening the ropes at that side before she took it around the back of my neck, and then under my other arm, then tied it off at the back. The effect was not only to make the ropes around my chest really tight – and make it feel so strange as they rubbed on me, even with my jumper on – but also to force my chest up and out.
I was looking at them, trying to control my breathing, as she took the second length, and fed it under my legs, using it to secure them together below my knees. I could feel the band on top of my boots – and then, as she fed the rope between my legs, her fingers ran along my boots, making a slightly different squeaking sound as she did so.
That wasn’t the only squeaking sound, however – to my surprise, I realised was making one as well, as I tried to move, the ropes rubbing on me and making my chest tingle.
Not just my chest either – I was tingling all over, as if somehow this was...
No – no that was just a crazy thought, wasn’t it? And yet, as I tried to move, and the boots squeaked and the ropes rubbed, I squealed more.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you,” she said as she reached round and placed her hands on my chest, “let me see.”
She started to massage them, and by all rights I should have screamed then – but instead, I squealed and moaned at the touch of her fingers, and the way my breasts felt, as well as elsewhere...
“Oh my god,” I whispered, “do you have any idea how that feels? I don’t know whether to call for help or just scream.”
“Good – let me offer a way you don’t have to decide.”
I saw the compressed sponge in her mouth, and realised she was going to silence me. But the way she was making me feel, as the boots squeaked again, I meekly opened my mouth, allowing her to push it in as it expanded and pushed my tongue to the floor of my mouth.
Closing my lips over it, I heard another strange squeaky sound and then squealed again as some sort of tape was pressed down over my mouth, the roll been wrapped tightly round my head as it covered and sealed my mouth. Once it was pressed down, I felt her squeeze my chest again, and squealed – but all that came out was “MMmmmmmmggssssshhh.”
“Now,” she said as she continued her assault, “let yourself go.”
I wasn’t in a position to do anything else, so I closed my eyes and let her grope me, not because I wanted her to...
Actually, scratch that – by this time I wanted her to, because it felt so exciting, so different...
Which was when she wrapped the last length of rope round my waist, tied it off, and then reached between my legs and pulled it through, making me yelp as it pressed on my crotch. She then made me lie down, and pulled my ankles back, using the end of the rope to keep them suspended over my bottom – so that every rime I tried to move my ankles, it wasn’t just my boots squeaking as they rubbed against each other, but the rope as it rubbed on my jeans, and my voice as I realised just what it was doing to me.
Naturally, therefore, she started to gently tickle the backs of my legs, making me laugh and try to squirm out of the way, which made the rope rub even more, which – well you get the picture, as eventually I shook and she stopped, the loudest scream possible still muffled as I had the most amazing orgasm.
I rolled over to my side and watched as she packed up her bag, and then walked out, leaving me there...
Like I said, it was several months ago, and the memory still drives me. Right now, I’m sitting on my bed, pulling rope between my legs as it presses on my panties and lifts my skirt up. I already have my ankles and legs tied, the rope squeaking on the green rubber, and as I tie the rope around the bands around my breasts, I look forward to what’s about to happen.
Lying down, I put my hands through the loops of rope and pull them, my wrists in place, the knife to hand, before I start to squirm round, and the squeaking starts...
The tale told by this woman is just one of several recent that have surfaced, of a woman who, from a psychological viewpoint, appears to have a fetish for other women in rain boots. Another report involved a young model, and what happened in her Winnebago after a shoot last autumn...
The photographer had just taken the last shot, of me posing with my hands outstretched, my fingers pointing one way as I smiled at the camera. I was wearing a camel woollen jersey with a cowl neck, a black poncho and woollen hat, black leggings and leather gloves pulled up over my sleeves, and a pair of black wellington boots with the cuffs turned down.
Once he had given the okay, I made my way back to the RV, desperate for a chance to lie down and a rest. SO you can imagine my surprise when I came in and saw this woman there, wearing a black leather jacket, leather effect leggings and thigh high boots. She was smiling at me, the dark glasses covering her eyes as she pointed her gun at me, and told me to close the door.
Which I did of course – she had the gun after all. She then walked over and stroked her hand down my face, before forcing me to lock the door, and then kneel on the floor.
I thought she was going to rob me – I mean, I didn’t have much with me, but I had something – but then I felt something pulling on my arms, and I realised she was binding my wrists. I learned later she was using some sort of tow rope, cut into lengths, but all I knew at the time was it was rubbing on my wrists, and even with the gloves on I could feel it.
She then pulled the hat off and lifted the poncho over my head, letting it rest on my bound wrists before she took another, longer length of rope and started to bind my arms to my sides, my jumper stretching over my chest.
When she had secured that rope, she made me stand up and walk over to a long seat, which she made me sit down on before she tied my ankles, and then my legs below my knees, her hands stroking my legs continuously as she did this. It was almost as if she had some form of fetish about it.
Well, it was at this point that I started telling her to stop – and that was followed by her taking my hat, and pushing it into my mouth, leaving me unable to do more than whimper as she started to grope me.
This seemed to go on for an eternity, my chest getting firmer and firmer as she did this, and then – well, there was a knock on the door. She stopped whatever she was doing, and jumped out of the rear of the van, the knocking getting louder and louder.
Somehow, I managed to force the hat out and call for help – but what would have happened if she had not been disturbed?
By all accounts since that time, she was the lucky one. Several months later, a farmer’s daughter in the depths of Hampshire met this woman – and she had a different experience...
I’d been out to a lunch with some friends, and walked back to the farmhouse with them. Dad was out in the fields, and Mum was doing some shopping. I was wearing a blue jacket and cap, the jacket over a blue jersey and under that a light denim blouse, while I had on my legs tan coloured jodhpurs, the legs tucked into a pair of high dark blue Hunter wellington boots.
I knew there was not meant to be anybody at home, so I let myself in, and closed the door behind me – not noticing the breeze from the kitchen. I soon found out the reason for the breeze as I went in, and saw the open window – and then felt the leather gloved hand as it covered my nose and mouth, and saw the knife in front of my eyes.
At first, I thought it was a male intruder who had grabbed me, but then this soft female voice told me not to panic, and to do exactly what she said. I nodded in agreement, and as the hand went away I turned to see a woman, about my height with blonde hair as opposed to my dark hair, wearing a black jumper and pants, her legs in black leather boots.
She told me to remain calm, and take off my jacket and cap – which I did, and placed them on the table, while I asked what it was she wanted. I noticed the way she looked at me, and at my Hunters, before she said to turn around, and to out my hands behind my back.
Well, I had no choice really – she had the knife, so I did as she asked, and soon /I felt rope as it was pulled tightly round my wrists, forcing them together as I flexed my fingers.
I offered her money, anything she wanted, but she just smiled as she pulled my jumper up and over my head, leaving it hanging by my wrists before she took another, much longer length of rope and started to bind my arms, forcing them into my sides as it went below and above my chest. I had no idea at this stage what she was intending to do – that came later – all I knew at this point was the feeling of my arms forced to my sides, and the bands pressing down on my chest as it was forced out under the pressure...
It was a very strange feeling, but not as strange as when she walked me into the front room. I did wonder where she had got all the rope from, but when I went in I saw a large holdall, and the ropes sticking out of the top, so I answered my own question.
She made me sit on a footrest, and then knelt beside me, wrapping yet more rope around my ankles and pulling them tightly together, the rubber of the Hunters compressing around my legs as the rope forced them side by side. They also started to squeak as they ribbed against each other – and that seemed to excite my captor, as she pulled the rope between my legs, and made it even tighter.
She then bound my legs below my knees, and looked at me, as if there was something she wanted to do – and then she kissed me on my lips, properly, as if a boy was kissing me.
I struggled to stop her doing it, but she held my head in her gloved hands, and kissed me as passionately as any boy had. Walking quickly behind me, she then reached round and started to grope my chest, pressing firmly as I gasped and tried to move out of the way.
“Hush,” she whispered into my ear, before she started to use her tongue there, her lips gently touching it as my breasts firmed up, and I saw my nipples through my blouse. She looked at them as well, as she gently ran her fingers over them, and I...
I moaned. I had no idea why, but I also tried to move my legs, and the squeak of the rubber added to the atmosphere somehow. I then wondered what was happening as she stopped and walked to the bag – which was when she took out a red ball, and a roll of white tape.
She walked back behind me, and told me to open my mouth – which meant she wanted to put that ball in, so I clamped my mouth shut and shook my head.
What she then did took my totally by surprise – she opened my blouse up, exposing my chest, and then slipped one hand under the bra cup, squeezing my bare breast with one hand as firmly as she had before.
I tried not to speak, to keep my mouth shut, but it was too much, and I opened my mouth to protest – which gave her the opportunity to push the ball into my mouth, and then wrap the white tape round my head, keeping it inside as it held my hair to the back of my neck.
I hoped she would stop there, but instead she pulled my bra up, and started to massage my chest, at the same time kissing my neck and ears. I could only moan, as I felt my nipples harden, and then her fingers as she gently squeezed them.
A chock ran through me as I stiffened, and then she made me lie on the floor, smiling as she pulled down my jodhpurs, and then my panties. She then started to kiss my chest, sucking on my nipples at the same time as her hand caressed my sex and...
What happened next I don’t want to talk about – I will say it somehow left me exhilarated and disgusted at the same time. She left me there, for my mother to find when she got home.
Then she told me... No, she’d need to say what happened to her...
Should you see this woman, police advise you not to...
The young woman turned the television off and looked at the brunette lying on the leather couch. Her arms were behind her back, and the bands of rope visible on her bare upper arms and black vest, forcing her chest out. More bands of rope encircled her legs over her pink jeans, and her black wellington boots, the squeak of rope on rubber the only sound apart from her muffled moans through the brown plaster covering her mouth.
“Now then,” she said as she placed her hands on her captive’s chest, “make them squeak...”