The Most Innocent Girl.

[Kronopticon]

The most innocent girl you might ever have taken a glance at.

You take one looks at her and she screams that of a 9 year old girl, large tartan backpack both straps over her shoulders, only making her already petite frame look minuscule. her bob cut blonde hair making her face look so round and cute, only blemished slightly by the braces on her teeth and the hello kitty glasses shrouding her eyes like a pink veil.

She never wore heels, always the same matt black pumps that blended in seamlessly with her loose black pants that hid all trace of a definite outline, she hid everything about her that might be suggestive, never had bright lipstick, she almost blended them out every morning in the mirror, along with her thick sweaters and short trimmed nails, only clear nail varnish to protect them.

She is 25; and thus far; she has never been with a man.

To take a look at her, you'd probably guess that. She has such an innocence about her that at this point makes her not worth bothering with to some men, and the other take the occasional chance to try a rubbish chat-up line on her; just to see how she'd react.

Always in the same way. The horrendously red face from blushing and the shying away from men for the best part of the rest of the day. It didn't take much to make Eleanor blush, a sly innuendo here, a flash of skin there, and she was blushing as red as a tomato.

Today was Friday.

Fridays are special for her; Not because she goes out; Because she stays in like every other night, she would never go out.

Going out for the night was how everyone else got vulgar and lewd, she tried once, and on that night, she paid to get into a club, reached the crowd and a man grabbed her waist before she could react.

So she made straight for the toilet to cry the night away, and since there were only two ladies toilets in the whole club, the queues were horrendous that night.

But this Friday, yet again, she was staying in. And she was blushing just thinking about it.

It starts slowly, a little bit of white wine, non-alcoholic of course, she hated the taste of alcohol, and how horrible people seem to be when they have it, but the taste alone was enough to make her feel tipsy from the placebo effect.
She had a book, that she bought so long ago off the internet, discreetly packaged and with no details on the package save her address.

It was a compilation book of little books, lots of naughty little books, chapter after chapter gradually getting lewder and more candid.

She read it slowly every Friday, religiously, and as she drank more wine and read more chapters of the book, she would undress as the chapters flew by, and little by little, she blushed more and more, while without even noticing it, she would begin touching herself.

Gently, ever so gently, slowly working herself into her small little frenzy. Reading more and more into the book until she got to that one story right at the back.

That one story that made her freeze into such stillness in anticipation of every word, only breaking her stoic unbearable silence and motion to flick to the next page, gently and smoothly, caressing the page as though the lover she never had.

That last story, the one filled with chains, gags, the kidnapping, the blindfolds, and most of all, the fucking.

As the last words of that last story made her bite her lip in tension, anxiety, want; it ended. Nothing left her feel so unfulfilled as those last painful words drifted past her mind and she started to prepare.

Everything she had, she bought online, god forbid somebody find out she had all this in her plain flat, that's why she never brought anyone back here, her bedroom loomed around her with a kind of black sweeping elegance with a strange box lingering out of place at the end of her four poster bed.

She unlocked the bottom drawer under the bed, panting and breathing in short bursts of excitement as she opened it, everything laid out in perfect order, with delicate precision.

The keys were placed first of course, she hooked them up next to the electromagnet that she'd attached to the roof of one side of her bed, when it turned on, the keys would be stuck up there until it was over, she'd done this so many times she couldn't count.

Standing there naked in front of all her toys, her anxiety clear as day as her knees practically knocked together, quivering and wanting. First the gag, most important to her, because god forbid the neighbours hear her.

It was a cock gag, large and looming in her eyes, slowly, with a gulp and an initial splutter of a cough, it was on, tight enough to endure the night without leaving marks on her delicate face.

To her, the latex hood that was next was vital, not in action, but in mind, as this hood was a symbol for everything tonight, a black, shiny, smooth latex hood, only with eyeholes and in chunky pink lettering glued to the forehead, was the word "SLUT".

The word lingered in the back of her mind as she pulled the mask on, snug, and tight. If she was blushing now, no-one would ever know.

No-one but her.
Leather cuffs next, the keys for these stayed under the bed until she was done, so she locked herself in, and hesitantly got the last item out of her forbidden drawer.

It was a dildo, plain, simple, vibrating of course, but black and veiny, not very large, but that was all she needed, all she knew. She fitted it simply with a click onto the rod protruding from the box at the end of her bed, a fucking machine, connected to the socket on the wall with a timer, which turned on both the machine AND the magnet for the keys to her release.

She set the clock for 9 hours, and it was going to begin in 5 minutes, at midnight. Not much time left.

She placed herself carefully just in front of the rod, just so that the dildo just sat nestling between her delicate lips, open, rosy red and eager for what was to come, she locked her legs in place at the corners of the bed, took a deep breath, or what would be if the gag wasn't making it just that little bit difficult.

Finally, hands shaking in the process, she locked one hand in place, fumbling in places, and with a bit of a struggle and a sigh, her remaining hand locked, and she was there for the night.

The moments passed by slowly, anticipation welling up in her eyes as the time slowly slid by until... with a feint click of a switch, the machine began its enduring onslaught as the key above her left hand clicked onto the magnet.

Helpless. She led there being driven into by the dildo, every time making her gasp as it, even after all this time, almost split her dainty frame in two, harder and faster it went, her anticipation finally satiated as quite shortly into it, she gave in and came.

Nothing but an almighty squeak escaped from her as her body contorted as much as it could under the strain of the cuffs and the machine, she always got so worked up that it never took long for the first, she finished her anguished attempts at writhing in pleasure, and looked hopefully at the digital clock on her bedside table in the hope that time was a lot quicker than she thought.

12:11 it flashed.

And the pleasure was building again, still gasping from the dildo's relentless endeavour, Eleanor decided it was going to be a long night ahead.

A very long night indeed.