That was Then, This is Now 2







I’d been looking forward to this party for so long – one boy in particular I wanted to spend time with – and as I looked at myself in my Rabbit ears I thought I looked cute.  My flat is in Bermondsey – I inherited it from my grandmother, who in the sixties worked at a gentleman’s club in London.


No – not THAT sort of place, she worked for Hugh Hefner – she was a Playbunny at the London club.  I had on the coffee table her album, and as I looked through the pages I saw the picture of her, wearing the black sleeveless top, white mini-skirt and knee length white boots, the Playboy symbol on her chest and a pair of black plush bunny ears on her short cropped hair.


She looked so unlike how I remember her, but then she was my age in that photo.  As I looked on the other side of the page, I saw some sheets of paper folded over, and I admit it – my curiosity got the better of me, so I opened them and read.


I had to write this down – I don’t think I could ever tell anyone what happened, not out of shame as such, but because I cannot quite believe it did happen.


It must have been about two in the morning when I got home from the club, and took off my white leather jacket, throwing it on the chair as I sat on the couch opposite.  I just wanted to sleep – but someone else had other ideas.


Someone who put a leather gloved hand over my mouth, and when I reached up to try and pull his arm down showed me a very real gun, and told me not to.  Well, I knew better than to argue so I put my hands on my lap and slowly nodded.  It was a calm, quiet voice, but I knew they meant business – even without the gun.


He told me to lean forward, and keep quiet as he took his hand away, and as I did so he took ahold of my arms and guided them behind my back.  I remember asking him not to hurt me, as he put my hands together, palm to palm, and I felt some sort of rope around my wrists.


No – it wasn’t my wrists, it was my arms at my elbows, as he pulled them together and bound them tightly, the rope around and between my arms so that I could not move them apart.  I grunted – I remember grunting, and then the warning not to do that as he started to tie my wrists together.


The ropes felt soft – and tight – but what I really noticed was the way my chest as forced out – the bunny visible on the front now visible to me.  And it only got worse – he then wrapped some rope round my body, pulling it tight under my chest as I gasped again.  He then wound t round more – above, below, above, below – framing my chest as I tried to move – and failed.


I felt him do something behind me, and the he walked round.  He could not have been more than eighteen, and looked at me as if I was some prize he had just won.  I struggled more – and then realised not only was my chest shaking, but the top was so tightly stretched I could feel the ropes rubbing on me.


And see the effect they were having on me, as the man knelt down, and suddenly reached up under my skirt, pulling my panties down and off my feet before I had a chance to do anything.  And when I opened my mouth to scream and protest, he just stuffed them in, and told me not to spit them out.


I didn’t want to think about what he was going to do if I tried, so I just watched as he pulled some more ropes out of his pocket, and started to tie my ankles tightly together.  The rope went round and between my legs, locking my ankles together, and then he did the same to my legs below my knees.  I wriggled round – and then stopped as I saw the look in his eyes, and the way my chest moved – never mind the way my chest felt…


He’d noticed as well, because he grabbed my breasts and started to squeeze them, massage them, and I could see it was turning him on – the bulge was unmistakable.  The thing is, it was turning me on as well – and that was about the last thing I wanted.  It wasn’t as if there was anything I could do to stop him, but I could try and wriggle out of his grasp…


And that was when the thought hit me – why?  If it felt so good, and I couldn’t do anything to stop him, why should I stop him?  It was a sickening and exciting thought at the same time, but it was true – as he lifted my top up under the ropes, and massaged my breasts under my bra, I found myself pushing my body into his hands and moaning at the sensations running through me.


Don’t think bad of me if you are reading this – unless you have been in the same situation, you cannot understand why I did it, but the fear and the inability to stop him was almost liberating.  I groaned more as he lifted my bra up, kissed my nipples, and then I saw him drop his pants…


Yes, he raped me, but by the time he same in me I was past caring, lost in the emotions and the joy and the pleasure.  It was only when he had gone, leaving me lying on my side on the floor, and the pleasure eased that I started to cry at the fact, the reality.


It was a friend of mine who came to take me to breakfast the next morning who found me, and untied me.  I made her swear to tell no-one – in those days, the police would have said dressed the way I was, I was at fault, so I cleaned myself up, smiled and went to work that night.


But I had to write this down, to get the event out of my memory – and now, if you’re reading this, you know as well…


Folding the sheets and closing the book, I shook my head.  That my Gran went through that and could tell nobody…  I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror – I had a pair of pink bunny ears on a headband over my blonde hair, a pink t-shirt over a long sleeved white jumper, a zipped black sleeveless jerkin made of black suede and a matching mini skirt, and over the knee black suede boots.


“It’s a different world now Gran,” I said with a sigh – and then my eyes shot open as I smelt the leather of the glove – the glove on the hand that was clamped over my mouth, as a make voice said “Not a word, sugar – you and me are going to have a little chat, all right?”


I suddenly realised how Gran must have felt, as I slowly nodded and the voice said “good – listen very carefully, you are going to do exactly what I say, aren’t you?”


I nodded again as he said “very good – when I take my hand away, open your mouth.”  I wondered why he had said that, but he had me, so I did as he said – and then tried not to gag as a sponge was pushed into my mouth, filling it and pushing my cheeks out as well as my tongue down.


I tried to say something, but before I could something sticky was pressed over my mouth, and when I looked again in the mirror I saw the white tape that was formed to the contours of my mouth and face, the shape of my lips visible under it.  It was a strange feeling – and then I saw him, a black balaclava covering his head so only his eyes and lips were visible.


He reached round and slowly unzipped my jerkin, before he pulled it off me and then took my hands behind my back.  I glanced down to my left as I watched him take some rope from a bag, and then felt my arms as my elbows were forced together as he bound them.


It was a strange feeling, but the ropes were tight – and as I glanced down, I saw how my chest was forced out as well.  He then took more rope, and tied my wrists together.  I could feel him pulling the bands tighter, and then between my arms, before he tied it off and then reached round, caressing my chest in his gloved hands as his lips kissed my neck.


Wriggling my fingers, I knew I could not find the knots, but his motion on my chest was making little electric shocks run through me – and suddenly, I realized how my grandmother must have felt.  I tried not to moan, but I could not help myself, as he took a longer length of rope and started to wrap it round me, pulling my arms against my back as the bands framed my very prominent chest.


And my god, the way his hands made me feel – he passed the rope over one shoulder, under the lower band between my breasts and pulled it up, then over my other shoulder before he tied it off, and then pressed into them even harder with his hands, making me squirm – and somehow making the little shocks longer, stronger.


I tried to ask him what he was doing, but it didn’t come out.  All that came out was a low, deep, guttural moan as I felt the dampness between my legs, and prayed to god he did not notice.


He did however, as he suddenly squeezed hard, and I feel to my knees, him kneeling behind me and then reaching under my skirt as his gloved finger stroked over my clit.  I almost screamed into my stuffed mouth then, as my whole body shook, and I heard him laugh softly behind me.


And then he eased my panties down – I swear, I wondered if I had been my grandmother, how they would have tasted in my mouth, and then realized what I was thinking – even as I felt him slip his finger inside me, touching me in those places that made me want him…


I wanted him?  He had tied me up, gagged me, and…  My eyes shot open.  Now I knew what my grandmother had experienced – and why she had written what she had written, even as he touched me and those shocks ran through me like the river over Niagara Falls…

He made my lie on the floor and then bent my left leg, tying my ankle to my thigh with the rope and cinching it between both parts of my leg before he repeated it on my right leg, and you know what I was thinking?  How the hell were my rabbit ears still on!


That changed as he spread my legs, and kissed my damp slit, making me groan as I threw me head back.  I knew what was coming, knew it was wrong, knew it was…


Oh sweet Jesus what he was doing with his tongue…



I closed my eyes, knowing there was nothing I could do, knowing I didn’t want him to stop, as I felt him enter me, gripped him, moved with him despite everything I felt about this been morally, legally, physically wrong…


OH fuck – forget that last one, it feels so amazing…





I watched as he left, his bag full of my valuables, afraid, and sated at the same time.  At least he used a condom, was my first thought. 


The second was the ears were still there?







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