Being Embarrassed

I hate jogging. It's a loathsome activity. You bounce along the track and anything male around you zeros in on your breasts because they'll be bouncing along as well. Men seem to find that sort of thing amusing or something.

The trouble is I have to jog to keep in shape. If I get out of shape I'll be kicked off the cheerleading squad damn fast. There's always a host on wanna-be's aching to get on the squad. Well there not going to do it over my fat body. My dead one, possibly, if I have to keep jogging, but it won't be a fat one.

Fortunately there weren't any men around at the current time. Perhaps I was out and about too early for the lecherous fools. Men can be the absolute pits at times. Take that idiot Kevin. Hopefully someone will take him far away.

Would you believe that the moron had the gall to invite me out on a date? Puh-lease. As if. I mean really, the guy's absolutely hopeless. He's only a second-stringer on the team. No way he'll ever be a prime choice for it. His family are plebeian, with no social status whatsoever. No money, no position, a social outsider who wouldn't even rate as a small man on campus, and he asks me out? The only thing he's got is a lot of gall and an arrogant impression as to who he is.

I fixed that loser. I didn't even bother to turn him down. I just walked off as though he hadn't spoken. Then I told everyone how a loser had the nerve to ask me out. I made him a laughing stock. It surprised me that he even had the nerve to continue turning up for classes. The man has no style and no class.

I continued on my way, getting in my sweaty exercise early so I could go home, shower, and look beautiful for the rest of the day. I don't mind men looking at me. Just not when I'm jogging and my breasts are bouncing.

I jogged along and spotted a movement out of the corner of my eye. I was just turning my head to see what it was when a smelly pad was slapped over my face. I gasped, felt someone holding me, and knew know more for a while.

I could hear a voice talking to me.

"Come on, girl," it was saying in pleasant tones. "On your feet now. You're doing fine. Up you come."

I had the impression that someone was helping me to my feet while I was shaking my head, trying to clear it. I was finally standing properly but for some reason my hands were being lifted.

"That's the girl. Just lift your arms a little higher," came the voice and I obliged, not knowing what was going on.

Now I was standing with my arms above my head and I seemed to be in amongst some trees. What was going on?

"Smell this," the voice said. "This'll fix you up."

I took a breath and my nose exploded and I was well and truly awake. Sal Volatile will do that to you. I suddenly remembered that cloth on my face and started looking around.

"Hey, what's going on?" I asked.

A glance down had showed that I was still fully dressed, which was a relief, but I didn't know what the hell was going on. I went to lower my arms and they wouldn't come down. Looking up I could see they were fastened to a bar that was dangling from a branch of the tree next to me.

I opened my mouth to scream, a natural reaction in my opinion, but before I could a finger poked my bust and I lost my breath giving a squeak of indignation.

"Please don't scream," the voice said, and turning towards it I saw Kevin standing there. He dangled something in front of me. "This is a ball gag," he told me. "If you want to scream I'll have to use this. Do you want me to gag you?"

"What? No. Are you mad? Let me go. At once, you moron."

"I'll let you go when I'm good and ready. You're quite a nasty little bitch, aren't you?"

"Me? What did I do?"

"Well, for starters, when I politely invited you to go out with me you were rude enough to not answer. A polite yes or no was all that was required. If that bit of gratuitous rudeness wasn't sufficient you tried to make me a laughing stock for daring to ask you out. I think you need a lesson in manners."

"Oh my god," I groaned. "You're going to rape me, aren't you?"

"Geez girl, get your mind out of the gutter. If you stopped to think you'd realize that if I wanted to rape you I'd have already taken off your clothes. Also you'd be lying on the ground, legs spread, waiting eagerly for my attention."

I just said, "Oh."

"Um, what are you going to do?

"I'll get around to that. You surprised me, you know? Here's me with front row tickets to the Bakers' Concert and permission to go back stage to meet the band after the show. There's you, an ardent fan of the Bakers and bewailing the cost of the tickets and the chances of getting any. I'd have thought you'd be quite keen to have a chance to go to the concert and to meet the band afterwards, but no. You didn't think the offer even worth replying to. I must admit I found that strange."

I almost died, just standing there. He'd been asking me if I wanted to go to the Baker's Concert? I hadn't even listened to what he'd been suggesting, too busy ignoring him as being beneath my notice. Why the hell hadn't he made me listen? I'd have even put up with his company for one evening to go to that concert. And to actually have a chance to meet the band. I felt like crying.

"What are you going to do?"

"Well, you tried your best to embarrass me and humiliate me, not that I embarrass very easily. Still, I thought I'd return the favour and give you a little embarrassment and humiliation."

He smiled at me and I had fearful thoughts of him leaving me hanging there for someone else to find.

"Don't worry about it too much," he went on. "Being a nice chap and all that, I decided I'd keep the embarrassment and humiliation between the two of us. I assume that's all right with you?"

I just glared at him, furious. I would so get him for this. I didn't know how or when, but I'd get him.

He took hold of my top and lifted it. He wasn't trying to take it off, just pulling it out of my shorts and tucking it up under my arms, just above my breast. I blushed and said something rude. I blushed a lot hotter and said something a lot ruder when he did the same with my sports bra, leaving my breasts on display.

"Do you realise how nicely these bounce when you're jogging?" he asked me, reaching out and bouncing my breasts with his hands.

My reply did not address his question but his antecedents, back to the tenth generation. He laughed.

"And you needn't worry too much about these," he said, undoing the button on the front of my shorts. "I won't be taking them right off."

Right off, I decided, depended on your definition of off. He slowly pushed them down, taking my panties with them. Not all that far, but my bottom popped free of them and they were bunched around my upper thighs. Just not far enough up as my mound was now totally revealed. I was effectively naked for all the bits that count.

He ran his knuckles across my mons.

"Nice smooth curves," he said approvingly. "I do like the way your curves flow from one to the other."

To demonstrate his approval he ran a hand from my breast down to my mound, taking his time as he did so, starting with his hand cupping my breast and finishing with his hand cupping my mound.

I was almost beside myself, I was so angry.

"You, you, don't you dare touch me," I told him.

That had a great effect. He calmly squeezed my mound and then stepped back so he could admire my figure. Boy, when he goes for embarrassment and humiliation he doesn't muck around. My face was probably scarlet I was blushing that hard.

"At this point I was going to take a photo but decided that it wouldn't really be fair to you. I mean, what if someone borrowed my phone and found the picture? Then I had another idea. How about if I took a photo of you from here," brushing his hand across my breasts, "to here," brushing his hand across my mound. "That way I'd have my photo and you wouldn't be recognisable. Um, would anyone recognise you from that sort of photo?"

Oh my god, I certainly hoped not. I just shook my head.

"So do you mind if I take that sort of photo?" he asked affably.

"Do I mind? Of course I mind. Don't you dare take any photos," I all but screamed at him.

"Well, if you insist," he said with a sigh, "I guess I'll have to rely on the memory. Fortunately I have good eyes and an excellent sense of taste."

Taste? What on earth did taste have to do with anything? I found out quite fast. He bent his head and started lightly sucking on my breast. I wriggled and protested and his lips closed over my nipple and his tongue and his teeth teased it. I protested some more and his head moved across to my other breast and my other nipple received the same treatment.

By the time that rotten man had finished my breasts were feeling swollen and heavy and both my nipples were standing out. I was feeling hot and bothered and wanted to swear at him, afraid that if I did he'd do more of the same. Like I need to have bothered.

He lifted his head away and had the audacity to wink at me. I just stood there, looking back at him. Well, it's not as though I had any choice. I wondered what he was doing when he sank down onto his knee. Unfortunately, I found out.

He was kissing my mons. My mons. He was kissing it. He had no right to do that. His head dipped a little lower and I could feel his tongue darting between my legs, licking up at me. I could feel my shorts sliding further down my legs as he played with my pussy. He just simply pushed them out of his way, making me open my legs a little wider. Now his tongue was teasing my lips, stroking them, slipping between them for god's sake.

If my hands had been free I'd have had them in his hair and ripped his head away from me. At least, I think I would have. He had no right to be doing what he was doing. His tongue was probing around, arousing me, touching forbidden places, and all I could do was squirm about and let it happen. Let it? As if I had a snowflakes chance in hell of stopping it.

The weirdest sensation suddenly went through me and I almost screamed. He moved his head away and looked up at me and winked again.

"Sensitive little thing, the clitoris, isn't it," he said, laughing at me, and then his mouth was on my mound again.

It seemed to me that he was concentrating on the area around my clitoris and I squirmed and protested and got tormented more and more. I couldn't stand what was happening I really couldn't. I was twisting about and he kept touching and stroking and I climaxed. That rotten swine had teased me orally until I climaxed. I'd never climaxed that way before.

Then he was kissing his way over my mons and up over my tummy, moving up towards my breasts again. I felt his hand close over my mound, moving my lips apart, a big fat finger starting to intrude.

Before I woke up to the fact that anyone with fingers that big and fat would be suffering from elephantiasis it was way too late for me to protest. His cock was sliding up into me and I was wet enough and aroused enough I couldn't find the heart to protest.

With his cock jammed up me he put one foot on my shorts and ordered me, ORDERED ME, to lift my leg. I pulled my leg free of my shorts and panties, doing as I was told as though I was a mindless twit, which was how I felt right at that moment.

He lifted my leg higher, wrapping it around his waist, then his hands closed over my bottom, pulling me even more firmly against him. That accomplished he started rocking and I rocked right along with him. I wanted to yell at him to stop, not to do this, but at the back of my mind was the fear that if I did tell him to stop he just might. Did I want him to? Well, intellectually, I might have, but my body wasn't having a bar of that. It wanted what it wanted and it wanted it right now, and Kevin was certainly giving it to me.

If my hands had been free I have no doubt that I'd have been clinging tightly to him while he bounced me on his cock. As it was, all I could do was wrap that leg around him and try to pull him in tighter. I actually considered lifting my other leg up and around him but hated to think what might happen if I did.

For someone who wasn't good enough to make the first cut of the team he was sure athletic enough to keep going when doing something he found interesting. He seemed to go on and on. It dawned on me that really, I should have climaxed again by this point. I mean, he'd tongued me to a climax and left me aroused and sensitive, so how come I hadn't exploded all over the place a second time?

Now that I thought about it the answer was obvious. He was just holding me below the point where I'd climax, enjoying himself too much to want to finish it. I cursed him, threatening to snap the damn thing off if he didn't start using in properly.

He laughed. Then he gave a bit of extra oomph when he drove into me and I knew I was heading for a satisfactory conclusion very quickly. He actually kissed me this time as he went into his final run, his mouth swallowing any screams I may have wanted to give, and I wanted to give a loud one when I climaxed, because I climaxed in a big way.

Afterwards he reached up and did something and I was able to bring my arms down. He'd tied me up using a crepe bandage. It was wrapped around one wrist half a dozen times and then wrapped around the other. Would you believe it was only held closed by one of those little bandage hooks. You know the things I mean. A tiny bit of elastic with little metal hooks at either end. I could believe I'd been tied up by such a thing. If the bar hadn't been pulling the bandage tight it would have just come loose all by itself. When he took the bandage off there weren't even tie marks on my wrists.

I hastily got dressed, telling him exactly what I thought of him. He suddenly interrupted me.

"Before you get too deep into your vituperation perhaps you'd like to answer the question."

I shut up and looked at him, suspicious.

"What question?" I asked.

"Do you want to go to the Baker's concert with me?" he said. "Like I said, I have front row seats and will be going back stage to meet the boys afterwards. You never got around to saying yes or no last time and I'm tired of waiting for a reply."

He had to be kidding.

"You just raped me," I hissed at him.

"No, I didn't," he flatly stated. "And what has that got to do with going to the concert?"

"What do you mean, you didn't? I was there, remember? And how come you've got tickets to the concert, anyway?"

"Kenny always sends me tickets when he's touring nearby. Who do you think writes most of his music? My cousin can sing like a bird but he couldn't compose if his life depended on it. My voice is mediocre at best, but I can compose. And it wasn't rape because you didn't tell me not to when I started or at any time while we were doing it."

The fact that he was right didn't make me any happier. I'd known I should have told him not to but I hadn't wanted to.

"I was tied up and helpless," I said repressively.

"Yeah," he said with a great big smile. "It's called bondage. You certainly seemed to appreciate it."

I just gave him a nasty look and fretted. If I went to the concert with him I'd look an idiot after putting him down the way I did. If I didn't I'd miss out on going and I'd miss out on meeting the band. Sing like a bird, indeed. Kenny had the voice of an angel. And Kevin was waiting for an answer, damn him. What do I say?