My name is Alyssa. I'm a perfectly ordinary girl with one year of college under my belt, living a perfectly normal existence in a suburb of a large American city, home for the summer, and looking to enjoy life. I had been excited by the possibilities when my parents decided to go to Europe for a month-long vacation. It wasn't often I got the place to myself for that long.

I had certainly wondered about holding a wild party or two. Of course, the problem with that was making sure nobody made a mess, and cleaning up after the party to ensure my parents didn't find out about it. I was proud of being considered a responsible girl entrusted by my parents not to abuse that trust.

I have been blessed by the DNA fairy with a really good body and a face that's well above average. I'm also a natural blonde. When you put the face, the hair, and the body together it comes to a very nice package that I have done my best not to act arrogantly about since I was barely a teenager.

See, here's the thing, other girls get jealous very easily. I already had to fight against the cliche that a girl who's blonde must be a lot more sexually available than other girls. Being blonde and having fairly decent-sized breasts only made that cliché worse. And I had fought against that cliche for years.

That involves daily assessments of what I look like, what I'm wearing, how my hair is, and comparing it to societal standards and what other girls in high school, and now in college, would think when they saw me. Oh yes, I cared about what boys thought too, but not quite to the same degree.

You see, I knew the boys would approve of whatever I wore. I knew that their eyes would be on me all the time with lust in their minds, fantasizing about the things they'd like to do to me, and wondering how they could possibly bring those fantasies to life.

But it was the girls who started out with a sense of jealous disapproval and were always ready to criticize if it looked like I was flaunting myself. Besides, I liked having friends and didn't want them to think I was trying to show them up.

Every attractive girl goes through that same consideration as she looks in the mirror before going outside. You want to look good, and you're proud of being sexy. But you don't want to be too sexy. It will piss off all the girls, and draw rude interest from the boys. Well, most of us don't anyway.

That hadn't really changed much since I had graduated and gone to college. I was still usually the best eye candy in the room. And boys are hungry voyeurs. Their eyes are constantly looking for something to feast on. So when they're sitting back in a classroom, idly listening to the professor, but not intensely interested, their eyes roam the class looking for something pleasant to rest on.

It's been that way since I was twelve.

But just as I assessed my look in the mirror before going outside, I also assessed my look when the door was closed and locked and I was alone with myself and my image in the mirror. And of course, I took a kind of smug delight in posing for myself and imagining how excited the boys would get if they saw me.

It wasn't hard to imagine since I had seen the look in their eyes every time they had gotten my clothes off and feasted their eyes on my bare breasts. I would pose in the cliched poses that all the naked girls on the Internet did, arching my back, turning and bending over, sliding my tongue across my lower lip as I combed my hair back with my fingers.

And of course, there were the more brazen poses, the ones that were graphic and outrageous and obscene. I would pose and imagine hordes of men salivating over me. My mind would toy with the idea of taking pictures of myself like that and posting them on the internet just to get the feedback from all the hungry, horny men staring through their screens and wanting me.

It's hard not to become egotistical given the way men poured their approval out on me whenever they saw me. But bringing my fantasies to life and exposing my naked body in such an outrageous and obscene way was out of the question. My reputation would be destroyed. And my reputation was important to me.

I could literally not imagine doing a lot of the stuff I saw on the Internet, a lot of the stuff that looked so wicked and exciting. So my fantasies had taken a bit of a dark turn sometimes. I couldn't imagine doing such things of my own free will because I knew I was too timid. But I could easily imagine men forcing me into doing them.

Big, strong, handsome men! Suave pirates and musclebound savages and stern lords in their dark castles all lustfully doing outrageous things to poor, helpless me! It's not like it was an obsession or anything. But certainly, the first time Ethan tied me up during sex that had caught at some dark part of my mind and made it an incredibly exciting experience.

Ethan is my boyfriend this summer. We've been on again and off again for years. He's big, strong, and handsome, and I've taught him to be fairly good in bed. Of course, I had not wanted to give away that I was in possession of a kinky side so I had done my best to hide just how excited I had been when tied up.

Apparently, I hadn't fooled him as much as I had assumed.

I'm not sure when he decided to play a wicked game of master and slave with me. Maybe it was when he heard that I would be alone in the house for a month. And it wasn't like he and I hadn't talked about threesomes before, either. The idea was intriguing to me, with either a boy or a girl. I had, of course, professed little interest. My reputation again. But I had let him persuade me to consider it as long as I approved of the third person to be involved.

Ethan had taken things a step further. Instead of just one extra guy, he had brought two. I hadn't been aware of that, at first, because I'd been blindfolded. And just like that I was immersed in this shocking, incredible, thrilling game of submission and domination.

And just like that, my body, which I was so proud of, was being shown off not just to Ethan but to two strange men! And I had wallowed in their excitement and approval, my body burning to their touch, to their rough use as they pretended I was their sex slave.

The whole day, I remained naked and bound while they used my body roughly and thoroughly, taunting me, degrading me in the most delicious and thrilling ways. That the two men were complete strangers made the game that much darker and more realistic. It made it a lot more thrilling. But it also made it a lot safer, because neither of them moved in my group, nor knew anybody who did. Thus my reputation was still intact.

I had been utterly worn down and exhausted from all of the sexual games that day. Even when the guys had been unable to get it up anymore, they had used vibrators and dildos and their hands and fingers and mouths to drive me to the border of insanity again and again. I had never had so many orgasms in a day, nor even imagined that that was possible!

And at the end of the day, they had shown me to my new quarters. My new room. A cage that one of them had brought in his truck. It wasn't the kind you could buy at the store for dogs. It looked like someone had taken two thick, flat pieces of plywood that were perhaps four feet by three, drilled inch-wide holes halfway through them all along the edges, and then fitted bars to those holes.

They put some kind of fluffy dog mattress inside and then put me in here to sleep for the night. So when I woke up in the morning, groaning and fluttering my eyes what I saw was the sunroom through the bars of the cage.

And all the events of the previous day came flooding into my mind.

I was still naked, of course. I was no longer gagged, at least. They'd taken the restraints off me and put furry bags around my hands and wrists. I won't call them mitts because there was no separate place for my thumbs. With the restraints strapped around my wrists again, there was no way to get them off, especially since I couldn't really grip anything.

My legs were covered past the knees in some kind of furry boots, and again, the restraints had been put on again around my ankles so the boots wouldn't come off. These boots, though, were sort of like high heels, only with the heel on one side of the instep. In other words, I couldn't stand up in them. I could only crawl.

Like an animal!