Tied to the Woman I’ve Hated Most All Night

“You’re losing your mind, man. How can you talk to my boyfriend like that?”

The tone of her voice gave her away; she didn’t seem to care in the slightest how late it was. A hard slam of a door accompanied her words, a reckless contempt for other people’s rest. Though, to be fair, it would have been bad luck to wake anyone: the nearest bungalow was ours, separated by the pool, and the rest were kept at a respectable distance. So we ended up alone in one of the rooms of the empty bungalow next door, after she confessed that she needed to talk to me.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my twenty-two years, it’s that it’s never a good sign when a girl says, “we need to talk.”

“Your boyfriend’s been my best friend for ages too, you know?” I said.

“That doesn’t change anything,” she shot back, belligerent.

“I think we know each other well enough to know which things I can say as a joke and which ones I can’t.”

“You went too far.”

“And what do you know?”

“I know him better than you do.”

“Honey, I’ve known him way longer than you have,” I insisted. “Besides: if you knew him as well as you say you do, you’d know Damián can handle himself.”

“I’ll defend him if I feel like it.”

“Did you drag me out here for this? To chew me out without making a fool of yourself in front of everyone?”

“You should be thanking me, actually.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” my voice took on a sardonic tone. “I should thank you for everything you bring to this group.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“To us, you’re Damián’s girlfriend, and nothing else. You’ve got no personality,” I went on. “You show up, sit down, never say a word, just make faces and mutter under your breath. The only reason you’re here is because your boyfriend pays for everything.”

“I paid for the apartment week, smartass.”

“And the rest of it?”

“If I annoy you that much, you shouldn’t have come.”

“They’re my friends, not yours. Know your place.”

“And then you wonder why you’re still single.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Noelia was getting under my skin, and the worst part was that she could tell. That sixth sense some women have kicked in when she saw the veins in my neck starting to stand out little by little. If I’d set myself one goal for this little getaway, it was not to let her ruin the week for us.

“No girl’s ever going to put up with you acting like such a shithead,” she snapped.

“Unlike you, there are girls who like men with a little blood in their veins.”

“What are you implying?”

“Better not take it personally, life’s happier that way,” I exhaled and collected myself. “Are you done yet? Or are you going to keep giving me love advice I never asked for?”

She didn’t answer, didn’t even flinch. Instead, she stretched out her arm, too tan after three days in the sun, grabbed the doorknob and started to turn it. But all of a sudden, Noelia seemed to freeze. The movement stopped dead.

“What are you doing?” I raised my voice, confused.

“Shhhh.”

After telling me to be quiet, she turned her head toward me very slowly, almost theatrically. Within seconds her face had gone pale among her curls; she looked like a different person. She was looking in my direction, but without quite meeting my eyes. At last she managed to whisper:

“I think there’s someone downstairs.”

“At this hour? What are you talking about?” I replied, disbelieving.

“Keep your voice down.”

“You’re seriously messed up.”

I moved closer to her as she pressed her ear to the door, like in the movies. The wood should have been thick enough to muffle any sound from the house, but when I copied her posture, right behind her, I could hear them.

Heavy footsteps, like boots. One after another. Sometimes they would stop suddenly, only to resume in an erratic march. This bungalow had to be empty; there were no suitcases in the rooms and no sign of life whatsoever. Had Noelia left the door open?

“Shit, you’re right,” I whispered.

“What do we do?”

“Maybe it’s Damián, or one of the guys. Call him.”

“They were all asleep, idiot.”

The footsteps grew heavier, multiplied. So much so that now they sounded like two people instead of one. And worst of all: they grew clearer and closer every second.

The knob turned. The door flew open with such force that it shoved Noelia into the room. She screamed, ripping her throat raw. Two masked figures appeared before us, tall, almost as tall as me. From their hands hung a pair of gym bags, as dark as their clothes.

One of them lunged at Noelia, wrapped an arm around her waist and moved behind her. With a hand encased in a leather glove he covered her mouth, and her screams were reduced to unintelligible groans.

“Take care of the other one,” he ordered in a low, sinister voice.

His accomplice, who by bearing and build looked like a girl, dropped the bag to the floor and charged at me. Though I couldn’t tell whether they were carrying weapons, I raised my hands, palms out. Noelia looked at me and I at her; her expression was pure panic. But something dug itself out of her. With all her strength, she sank her teeth into the attacker’s hand.

“You bitch!” the figure roared.

***

“Come on, man, there’s no need to do this,” I pleaded.

Noelia, cornered and held at knifepoint, watched as the girl tightened the last knot on me. She had tied my legs together at the ankles, calves, knees, and even thighs. My arms were stretched out over the bed, tied to the corners, so that I looked like a figure nailed to a cross.

“Not your lucky day,” said the attacker.

“We won’t say anything, it’s not even our apartment,” Noelia begged.

“Hear that, sweetheart?” the man said to his accomplice. “Here we are, the two masked ones, and they still think we’re idiots.”

They shared a laugh, but it did little to ease the tension in the room. As if the situation weren’t enough already, being left in just her black bikini and sandals made Noelia feel even more vulnerable. Her voice kept cracking.

“I’m really telling you, we’re not going to snitch, please.”

“Babe,” the masked man cut in. “If I got paid every time someone said that to me, I wouldn’t have to rob other people’s apartments, believe me. Come on, onto the bed.”

“But please.”

“No buts.”

***

The intruders tied Noelia on top of me. They made her take off her sandals and lie down over my torso. They stretched her out, using the last of the rope to secure her feet and hands in a kind of five-point star, at each corner of the bed. I could feel all her weight on my body, especially on my chest. Her breasts sank into me, separated only by the thin fabric of the top of her bikini.

Our faces were almost level, which let me watch every grimace she made in response to the bindings. When they finished tying her up, her first instinct was to writhe, twist, fight the ropes.

“Will you stay still?” I asked.

“If you ask me, we might as well stay like this all night, for fuck’s sake.”

“I can’t believe you left the door wide open.”

“And I can’t believe you’re blaming me for this.”

“Whose fault would it be, then? You’re the one who dragged me out here to spout nonsense.”

The weight of her body rocked over mine, as if she were trying to settle into an impossible position. The brush of her half-bare skin against mine, her closeness, her right breast starting to spill out of the bikini.

“Stop moving already, damn it,” I snapped, trying to avoid the inevitable.

The more she moved, the more I felt it. Within seconds, my member developed an erection impossible to hide. That was when my cheeks went hot. Something inside me wanted Noelia never to notice, but at that distance there was no way to contain it.

I don’t understand any of this. I hate this woman with every fiber of my being. I can’t stand her. And yet, my instinct was more awake than ever, and at times it kept growing stronger. Every movement of hers, however slight, lit up something I did not want to acknowledge.

“Maybe we could all shut up a bit, it’s late,” said the masked man from the hallway.

“Then tell this crazy bitch to stay still.”

“I said don’t talk back, kid. Shut up.”

Noelia, however, kept swaying and moving, in a futile attempt to undo the knots. The accomplice had cinched them so tight they were almost cutting off circulation; no matter how much I complained, there was no way to make her understand that this would never get us free.

“Noelia, stop. Seriously.”

“Help me, idiot. Can’t you see we’re not getting anywhere like this?”

Her voice was barely a thread, even as she kept struggling.

“I’m sick of you two,” the masked man muttered.

From my position I could barely see him, but I managed to throw a glance his way. He was rummaging through the gym bag he’d picked up from the floor. From it he pulled out a roll of white duct tape and, gripping it firmly, approached the bed. He stretched the tape with that sharp, ripping sound it makes, pressed it with his palm over Noelia’s lips, and began wrapping her head. A few long, curly strands got caught in the adhesive. Her mouth was buried under several layers of white tape until the man was satisfied.

She tried to complain; I could see it in her eyes, in her quickened breathing, but it was useless. The attacker tore off the tape and, after wrapping it at least seven times, smoothed it down over her cheeks.

“MMPPPPGHHHH, MMMMPPHHH.”

She tried to speak, to shout. But her protests were nothing but cacophony. From her gagged lips poured a torrent of unintelligible obscenities; the inflection of her voice could be mistaken for sensual gasps. Moans loaded with pleasure. A sound that did nothing to calm the powerful erection between my legs. It reminded me of all the times I’d wanted to be the one to shut her mouth myself. To make her stop talking. To exercise the power to cut off her venomous comments, her out-of-place remarks, the insolence she’d thrown at me.

“Come on, you’re prettier when you’re quiet,” the man said. “You too, kid.”

In my position, I could barely resist. In the blink of an eye my lips were sealed just like Noelia’s. Just as they had appeared, the intruders vanished. If it weren’t for her incessant groans, we might have heard them ransacking the bungalow, or at least made out their footsteps fading away.

I could see the reflection of my own contempt in her brown eyes, wide as saucers. She kept trembling at the brush of my skin. With a sharp movement, her right breast finally slipped free of that black bikini that contrasted so starkly with her skin. If not for the swimsuit she was wearing, I would have exploded at that very instant.

The swimsuit was already starting to get wet. Noelia couldn’t say anything, but I’m sure she felt the weight between my legs brushing the lower part of her belly. Or at least the tip, getting wetter by the second. I lifted my eyes to the ceiling, as if trying to escape the situation. But it was impossible to ignore her. Her movements, her gasps, the moans distorted by the gag.

“MMMMMPHGHGHGH, AHHGHMMPH. POHHGHH FHHHFPHMM,” Noelia screamed through clenched teeth.

Nothing she did worked. In fact, everything got worse. She rubbed her body against mine, defying the yoke of the ropes; her breasts settled against my chest and her pelvis ground against mine. I tried to answer, to avoid the contact, but it was impossible. My legs arched, trembling, I closed my eyes and, for the first time, I was the one shouting into the gag.

“MMMGHHHHMMMPHH!” I cried out.

The heat surged from inside me like a volcano erupting. My member began to throb, and each beat released a little more of that built-up tension. The swimsuit was soaked through and there was no way Noelia could fail to notice what had just happened. She was still breathing fast; the truth was the gag made it hard for me to take in air. She stared at me, confused, not stopping moving. Not stopping panting.

How am I supposed to survive all night like this? It was still the middle of the night, our friends were still asleep on the other side of the pool, and it would be hours before anyone noticed we were missing. Hours tied up to the only woman in the world I couldn’t stand, and who, for some reason I still don’t understand, my body wanted more than anyone else.