The Kinkiest Girl In Town Book One

Chapter 1: A Freak

I, Vicky Stanton, am a freak.

There, I said it. Openly proclaimed to the world that I am different. Abnormal. Perverted, even.

The dictionary lists one of the definitions of “freak” as: “Someone who is so ardently devoted to something that it resembles an addiction.”

I think that covers it pretty well. I am addicted – ardently so – to bondage. More specifically, I am addicted to the incredible helpless feeling that comes when I’m all tied up, can’t hardly move, and know deep in my heart that there is no way I can free myself. That, friends, is an intense and wonderful feeling. I feel sorry for anyone who doesn’t understand how incredible that feeling can be.

Well, maybe not really. I mean, I know full well that not everyone is into the kinky stuff as deeply as I am. Only a few of us are so lucky.

I have devoted my life to experiencing the most intensely helpless feelings possible. Mine is a never-ending quest to indulge my deepest, most kinky desires, to revel in them, to live them to the fullest.

I know that not all of you will appreciate my love of the erotic and esoteric aspects of being helpless. In fact, some of you may be inclined to imply that I am mentally disturbed and in need of help. But those of you who understand and, even more, share my feelings, you are very special people. It is to you I dedicate my story.

I can’t say for certain when my addiction began. It seems I have always been fascinated with the idea of being tied up with ropes. Scenes in movies of women being tied and held captive excited me something fierce. I used to go to sleep in my bed thinking about what it would feel like to be one of those lucky women who were kidnapped, held for ransom or seriously mistreated by sadistic mad scientists.

I made the mistake of confessing this fascination to my mother one time. Never again. She went through the roof! Told me I was sick and perverted and would undoubtedly go to Hell. I had to look up what perverted meant, but it was pretty accurate. Fortunately for me, Mom was pretty drunk – as usual – and didn’t really remember the incident the next day. I didn’t mention it again.

That began the horrible period of my life when I hid my feelings for fear that everyone would label me a pervert, and worse. For that, at least, I suppose I should have been a little grateful to Mom. I liked having friends and the idea that they would think I was sick was something I could not bear, and I’m quite certain some of them would have been shocked and quite unpleasant to me if they had known my fantasies. So, I kept my secret desires to myself, where they did not go away but continued to torment me mercilessly.

Until, that is, some time after my eighteenth birthday. Let me fill you in or you will not really understand what transpired. Oh, maybe I should state beforehand that what I am about to relate is just the beginning of a long, long story of adventure and sex and incredible stupid but exciting situations. Let me tell you of my first adventures. Maybe sometime in the future, I’ll tell more.

I had graduated from high school and was thinking about going to college. But that’s not important to this story. Next door to us, in a rather upscale neighborhood, there lived a married couple, Tom and Denise Spencer. They were both around thirty years old and college grads. She held a position as a director in some company or other. He was a writer and stayed at home. Which is why I was presented with a wonderful opportunity.

You see, he was cheating on his wife. I knew, because every week a young lady would come to his house and stay there for a couple hours, then leave. It didn’t take a genius to tell that they were doing something more than chatting in there. And, these visits always occurred when Denise was at her office or out of town on business. In fact, when she was out of town, that pretty young woman would come over more often.

Being a very devious, nosy and extremely sneaky young woman, I spied on them one day. There was a fence between our yards but that was easily climbed. Then I snuck up to their house, peeked into windows until I found the room they were using. And, sure as hell, they were doing it. At that point I was a virgin and I had no direct experience of what “it” was. Well, I sort of knew, of course. I mean, they try to teach us sex education in school but that was mainly telling us to use protection, although protection doing what wasn’t exactly clear, at least not to me. And, naturally, girls talk and boys will be boys trying to be men – which, apparently, some of them had managed with some of the girls of my age, so I had heard a little of what it was all about. Also, my mother had explained in her less drunken moments and in almost no detail what it was I should avoid doing until I was married, and in even less detail what it was I should avoid doing at all. And, I’m embarrassed to say, I partly believed her. Whatever. Which explains why I was a virgin and intended to stay that way, for the near future, at least. Even so, it was a great revelation to see what “it” really was!

It was sort of what I had imagined. They got naked and he shoved that thing into her. She moaned and made funny noises as he pumped away. Finally, he grunted loudly and stayed deeply buried inside her for a while. Then it was over. Okay, seemed like a lot of work for a couple minutes of fun.

But…

Here’s the really strange part that almost made me shit in my pants. Almost as if it were a show being put on for my benefit, he had tied her down to the bed before performing intercourse on her! From the window, I had a good view of her spread legs and arms stretched out towards the four corners of the bed and held tightly with ropes. And, surprise, she was enjoying it! Must have been, because she was moaning and telling him to pound it harder into her and stuff like that. Later, she kissed him and thanked him. When she left, she was smiling. I hadn’t noticed before, but she always was smiling when she left. Now I knew why.

As you can probably imagine, that got my brain to working overtime. I immediately rushed back to my house and flopped on my bed. For a long while I imagined that I was her and that sex act was being done to me. I might have been a virgin but I knew what being horny meant. And, gosh, was I horny! It was pretty much understandable that I would want to experience that for myself.

The trouble was, you see, I was a virgin. A virgin raised by a single mother who constantly crammed into my head that good girls don’t do that, and if you did you would go to Hell. After getting pregnant and ruining your chance of getting a good husband, of course. No man wanted a slut, Mom assured me, especially a pregnant one.

So I was caught in the classic dilemma of a teenager, a young woman with reasonably high hormonal needs but afraid to do anything about them. I wanted it but didn’t want it at the same time. I sure didn’t want to ruin my life, no matter how wonderful that activity looked. At the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder what she must have been feeling as she lay there, tied down and helpless and all. Actually, I was more turned on by her helpless state than I was by the sex she was having. If I were in her place, I fantasized, I would insist that he tie me down and wait a few hours before having sex with me. And then leave me for a few more afterwards. That would make it much more enjoyable, I was sure.

I thought about what I had seen every day. This was not just some scene in a movie with poor rope work and not showing actual sex. This was real! How could I not think about it?

Remember I said I was sneaky? Well, I reckoned that Tom next door would probably not want to have sex with me. For a start, I was much younger than him. Not that his mistress was much older than I was, but he already had a mistress and a wife, and I lived just next door and, well, there were probably half a million other reasons why not. Besides, I was pretty sure that even if I asked him and he said okay, I wouldn’t want to do the same as they did. I knew that sooner or later I would lose my virginity, and I was fine with that. But not with a married man who was probably at least ten years older than I was. That was not what I wanted.

But Tom did have something that I did want from him. I had been impressed with the way he had tied her. The knots were solid and her arms and legs were really pulled wide, not just lying there. I was sure that she could not have worked herself out of those ropes, and that, ladies and gentlemen, excited me. Tom, bless his cheating heart, did have a skill I wanted. Needed. Desired. Craved.

So I spied on them a couple more times. Then, I not only watched them, I also video recorded them on my cell phone. Talk about sneaky! This was not only so I could enjoy watching the act anytime I wanted to, but also because of the next step in my master plan.

Yes, you guessed it! And I was fairly confident my little plan would work.