Hello, my name is Beth.

I am writing this account to help me sort out my feelings about a very strange experience I had last night. Perhaps I'll show it to my boyfriend when I'm finished.

First, I'll describe myself.

I am a college student at a small midwestern university, majoring in English. I am 22 years old. I am very petite. I think of myself as somewhat average looking, but I'm not very good at describing my looks, so I'll just tell you that some of my friends have called me "a girl- next-door type", "real", "not a fashion model - more like a princess in disguise".

I think my forehead is too high, my breasts are a bit asymmetrical, and I have a few awkwardly placed freckles, but none of my boyfriends (I've had three) has ever complained.

Last night, it seemed I "awoke" in a very strange position. My body was folded up into some type of "stocks"; essentially a wooden board with padded holes for my neck, wrists, and ankles. This board was hanging by chains from a steel frame that was being wheeled quickly down the hallway of my dorm by two young men whom I did not know.

I was naked.

No, not entirely; as I carefully tried to turn my head to the right, I could see, on the other side of my hand, that I was wearing a white pump with a four-inch heel. I did not recognize it. Since it was so difficult to turn my head, I just assumed that my left foot was similarly shod.

I must have been a bizarre sight as I swung to and fro, much like an IV bottle on a pole.

The breeze caused by our passage stiffened my nipples and blew over my lips down below.

At about this time, sleep left me completely. I think I had thought this was merely a naughty dream I was having until then. As my head cleared, I began to yell. "Help! Help!!" I cried.

One of the men gave me an incredibly hard slap on my bare ass, and growled: "Shut up, bitch!" He was clearly worried that someone would hear me. In my pain and shock, I remained silent.

At this point we came to the door of what I recognized as the lounge on my floor of the dorm. There was only one person there, and I did not recognize him. He was not handsome, but not too bad-looking. I decided that I "would". I had found from conversations with my friends that I was not alone in this habit; whenever I met a new man, I would immediately decide whether I would or would not allow him to make love to me. This does not mean that I WILL go to bed with him, but it does sort of determine what types of relationships I can have with that guy. I imagine men do much the same thing when they meet a woman.

The two men shut the door of the lounge, unhooked the board from the chains, and placed me on the couch, next to the other man. They had to sort of prop me up against the cushions. My position would have been ridiculous, if I hadn't been so frightened; back against the cushions, head, hands, and feet in the air, my sex completely exposed to the air, and to their eyes. If I was not so limber (I had been doing aerobics and stretching, off and on, for the last couple of years) I would not be able to get into this position at all. As it was, I was able to keep my head, hands, and feet all pretty much lined up, without too much discomfort. I wondered how long I would have to stay this way, though.

With a final hungry look at my exposed sex, the two men left. I did not know what to say or do. I wanted to beg him to free me, to ask him what was going on. I wanted to break down into tears of embarrassment, but I did not yet dare to do any of these things.

What happened next was really bizarre. He introduced himself as Pat, and shook my hand. I found my hand shaking his automatically, although my wrist motions were limited by the stocks. When I didn't respond further, he asked my name. "Beth," I said in a tiny voice. Then he asked me if I wanted to watch TV. I nodded my head dumbly.

For the next hour, we watched television. No one disturbed us. The TV's volume was turned down low; I didn't pay much attention to the program, although it was a PBS nature documentary, and as an animal lover, I would normally have been quite interested.

Pat watched it a little, and read a magazine; I tried to sneak a look at him whenever he was reading. He was fully dressed; I was naked. It didn't seem at all fair.

Several times during that hour, I asked him to let me go. I asked him what this was all about. Each time, he ignored me. It was as if I had not even spoken! I don't mean we didn't talk; we talked about many other things, just not the most obvious ones. After seeing that it was no use, I finally just stopped raising these subjects.

After a while, I realized that this was turning into a bizarre kind of "date". Another hour went by, and another. I now had no idea what was on the TV. We talked about classes, professors, our future plans. At times, I actually forgot my predicament, and laughed at his jokes! Eventually, we had moved far beyond small talk. We talked about our fears, hopes, and dreams; we shared intimate secrets. Pat seemed to know me like no stranger could.

Pat got up and turned off the overhead lights. By the light of the single lamp remaining, he made his way back to the couch, sitting down right next to me. He leaned over, gently put his hands around my head, and he gave me a long, tender kiss. I could hardly believe this - here I was, bound, naked, making out with a boy I had just met!

The board got in the way a little, but Pat ignored it.

Soon I was kissing him back; I became bold enough to French him shamelessly. A sudden coolness from evaporation told me I was getting wet below.

We petted and made out on the couch as if we were two fully-dressed high school kids in the back seat of a car. I had never known a man who could make foreplay last so long when I was already unclothed. At last, I could stand it no longer. "Please, please…" I panted.

"Please…what?" asked Pat, as he kissed my breasts.

"Please put it in me…" I said.

"Don't you want it in your mouth first?" he asked.

"Yes," I said "I want to suck your cock."

Pat quickly removed his clothes, grabbed my heels, and slowly approached my mouth with his dick. He put it in and began to gently pump my mouth. Using my feet as levers and my ass as the pivot point, he rocked me back and forth. Do you have any idea what a slut I felt like at that moment? But I was completely helpless. There was no way I could stop him from using my body even if I wanted to. There was nothing for me to do but enjoy it.

He pulled out of my mouth, then kissed my closed eyelids. Then Pat interlaced his fingers with mine, and began to fuck me slowly. I lost track of how many times I came that night.

When my last shuddering orgasm was over, Pat stood up and clapped his hands three times, saying, "The experiment is over, Beth, awake."

As he carefully helped me out of the stocks and handed me my robe, I remembered everything; how I had told my boyfriend Pat about my submissive fantasies, how Pat's friend had hypnotized me, and the fact that this floor of my dorm was empty since it was the end of the quarter.

Later that night, as we in bed together, I asked Pat if he had any other fantasies planned for me.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he said.

The End?