Stranger Danger

by sleepingirl

Tags: #amnesia #dom:female #humiliation #m/f #pov:bottom #sub:male #sex

He was captivated by this woman from the very first moment he saw her – nose in a book on the first floor of their campus library. She can’t have been younger than 30; he wondered to himself as he went to use the printers just what she was doing at the school. It wouldn’t be unheard of to go to college at an older age, but their university was largely dominated by late teens and 20-somethings, and while she was a very good looking woman, he was drawn to call her just that – “woman” – as a stark contrast to all of the “girls” that surrounded her. 

He passed her on his way out the door, perhaps stole a bit too long of a look because she appeared to feel his gaze and flicked her eyes up to meet his. 

Deep, dark, endless brown eyes, framed by thick, horn-rimmed glasses and wispy brunette bangs. 

Lord have mercy, he was only 21; he couldn’t help the grip that that gaze took on his heart and body. 

He blushed – blushed! – and walked across campus to his dorm with his tail between his legs. 

He had the sense that he was passing her on his way to and from classes, but he was too nervous at this point to risk staring at someone to see if it happened to be the case. But he’d catch someone out of the corner of his eye with dark hair, or a blazer and a white button-down, or even just skin-clinging nylons and heels (if his head was down), and his heart would race again, and he’d remember those eyes. 

They had burned themselves into his brain after that moment at the library. His body urged him to masturbate thinking about her piercing stare but each time he was able to refrain out of some bizarre fear that she would *find out*.

He knew it was ridiculous.

He was avoiding telling himself that it was getting out of hand until the night that he woke up in the early hours of the morning, choking off a moan as his cock twitched and shot spurt after spurt of cum into his boxers all by itself… as the remnants of the dream trickled through his memory… horn-rimmed glasses; creamy, soft breasts; expert hands on his dick… 

…And he felt so *guilty* that he wanted nothing more than to apologize. 

After that, it was like she burned bright like a beacon every time he saw her in passing, reminding him of how he had defiled the memory of her in his dreams. 

He knew exactly which classes she went to, he knew when she went to study at the library, he knew where she preferred to grab lunch and dinner. Despite himself, he had become obsessed with the idea of her. The confusing thing was that there was no concept of a personality there, and since that night he had expressly forbid himself from thinking of her nude, so she was only a sort of avatar to him, an image of something so precious, so untouchable, that his interest bordered on reverence.  

Luckily, he never saw her with a man, neither arm in arm with a lover nor chatting flirtaciously with other students. She was always alone, and so his pristine view of her was never altered. 

He suspected that she was noticing his attention; although he maintained distance, there were moments when she would look over to him and he would have to quickly look away. Other times, and perhaps this was proof of insanity, he was certain that she would bend extra low to allow her skirt to ride up while he watched, or bend over to expose the deep V of cleavage in her blouse… And only when he was watching most intently. 

But those times made him feel dirty, like some common pervert, so although his cock did not seem to want to resist looking, he always, eventually, turned his glance away with a deep, crimson blush. 

It got to the point where even in his private dorm, if thoughts of her crossed his mind, he was almost conditioned to feel heat in his cheeks and a twitch of his dick. He was worried about what would happen if he allowed his thoughts of her to meander down a path… So he resigned himself to the pattern of arousal, embarrassment, and chastisement. Over and over. Again and again. 

…Surely, this was getting out of hand. 

Everything came to a crashing halt one day when he saw her in the dining hall, and before he could turn tail and run away, she looked him squarely in the eyes, smiled, and beckoned for him. 

His legs moved on their own to find a seat across from her. Cheeks bright red. Eyes down. Hands folded tight in his lap. 

He heard the most beautiful sound; a deep, feminine laugh, but it only made him flinch. 

Dimly, his mind began to question… 

…Why was he behaving like this… 

…This is not normal behavior… 

…This woman would know that something is wrong…

…Why would she call him over unless…


Food had appeared in front of him and he snapped back to the present. It was the first time he was able to raise his face to meet hers. 

A cold, sadistic smile was in her eyes. It was uncomfortable to look directly at them.

Her lips moved. 


He welcomed the release of his eyes and stared down at his plate. She must have gotten it for him at some point, but he couldn’t remember when. 

He ate, and the absolute surrealism of the moment faded away into the background, and he stopped questioning. 

It was easier to just obey her. 

Time seemed to jump. 

In between bites, his mouth, perhaps seeking some sort of absolution, decided to speak. 

“I’m sorry.”

…What? Shut up, shut up shut up shut up –

“Oh?” she said, and his mind reeled again from just hearing her voice. 

“…I had a dream about you.”

Shame gripped him tight in a vice, and confusion of why he couldn’t control himself… God no, what was happening… 

“A naughty one, hmm?” She was grinning. 

He felt his face flush bright red, and he bowed his head to escape her gaze. His heart pounded loud in his ears. 

“That’s OK. It’s so good to think of me like that, isn’t it?” Suddenly the tone in her words was soothing, forgiving like a saint, and he felt himself relax as though he was only a passenger in his own body. 

…It did feel good. 

…Somewhere deep inside of himself, some tiny part still clinging to reason snapped him back to control. 

With fearful eyes he looked up at her, and despite himself, his cock twitched in his pants. 

“Who are you?” he whispered. 

A grin snaked its way over her face, and with horror he found himself fixated on her lips as they moved. 

“Who am I?” she said softly. “Why are you asking me that when you can’t even remember your own name?" 

The world tilted. His heart thudded more. His mind reeled to try to refute her, prove her wrong, searching every part of himself… 

…Nothing. There was nothing there. 

…When the fuck was the last time he remembered his name? 

As his mouth hung open, dumbfounded, she laughed, and the world went dark. 

He was laying down on a bed, naked, sweaty, moaning. As his vision shifted into focus he saw her on top of him, nude, bouncing up and down, and his world swam again as he watched his cock disappear into her hot, wet cunt over and over and over. 


“Shhh,” she said. “Just enjoy this…”

Pleasure was overwhelming him, his cock couldn’t take much more of her squeezing and fucking… The lewd, loud sounds of sex filled the room. 

“H-help… I can’t… Please…”

“No one is coming for you,” she husked out, and it seemed to excite her because her hips began pounding down on him with renewed energy. “You can’t even move. You can’t even scream.”

She was right. She was always right. 

His cock was being so expertly fucked and pleasured that he had no choice but to wait for the inevitable, and he squeezed his eyes shut in terror, in pleasure, in the desire to escape… 

“Look at me when your cock is inside me,” she commanded softly, moaning. His eyes snapped open and drank in the sight of her arching backwards, ample breasts rising and falling with her body. His cock twitched helplessly inside of her, ready to burst…

“Your name doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “My name doesn’t matter. *This –*” and she reached behind herself to squeeze his balls almost too tightly, “– is the only thing that matters right now.”

He moaned low and long and his hips began snapping up to meet hers as he got closer and closer… 

“Cum for me. Cum for me.”

His body tensed hard as he thrust up into her one last time and felt his balls empty themselves deep, deep inside of her, and the pleasure seemed to wash even more of him away as he stared at the sight of her pussy drinking up the last of his cum. 

She leaned forward over him, his sensitive cock still inside of her, and he felt fear once again as her face loomed over his. 

“Sleep, and remember…”

Her finger tapped him square in the forehead, and his eyes fluttered and rolled back as he slipped away into trance. 


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