Sandra Lee never saw the man coming. In a flash, he had a hand over her mouth preventing her from screaming and another gripping her arms firmly to her body, preventing her from breaking away. She was in such a panic that she didn't realize what the upper hand was also doing: blocking her from breathing through her nose.

When she regained consciousness, she lifted her head to find that she was chest down upon the hood of a dark sedan. She had been stripped of her top, and her hands were bound by rope to the windshield wipers.

She looked about herself in panic for answers to what was happening to her or for someone who could help her, but for as far as she could see there was nothing but a vacant, dark parking lot. She screamed, but her voice just seemed to fade away into the distance, not even echoing back to her off a nearby building.

"Please don't do that, Ella," a male voice spoke calmly from behind her. "It hurts my ears."

She tried to turn her head to find the man but couldn't. She tried to move her body, but found that her knees -- parted a foot or so -- wouldn't move and must have also been bound, perhaps to the sedan's grill or bumper.

She began to sob, asking, "What's going on...? Who are you...? Why are you doing this to me?"

She felt one, then another hand settle upon her ass, which she now realized was a bare and exposed as her breasts, pressed against the warm hood of the luxury car.

"Please...!" she begged. She knew what was coming. "Please! Don't do this."

"I have to, Ella," the man said, pressing up behind her and letting her feel his hardened cock between her ass cheeks. "You did bad, and now you have to be punished."

"My name isn't Ella!" she pleaded. "You have the wrong person! My name is Sandra. Sandra Lee--"

She cried out as she felt the man's cock press roughly against her vulnerable pussy. "Pleeeease...! Please don't do--"

She cried again, wriggling her body and 'clamping down' on her vagina in an effort to keep him out. But it was no use: he penetrated her with the aid of a well lubed condom and, working his shaft back and forth with increasing insertions, was soon pounding his full length deep into her.

She continued to sob and beg throughout the rape, uncertain of why someone would do this to her or -- if it had actually been about a woman named 'Ella' -- how she could have been so easily mistaken for this mysterious woman.

And then, to her horrific surprise, somewhere during the incessant poundings against her ass and thighs, Sandra began to realize that her body was beginning to well with pleasure. She tried to fight the sensation, reminding herself that she was being raped by a stranger over the hood of a car in the middle of a God-forsaken parking lot.

But her resistance to the building euphoria was futile. She twisted her hands to grip the bindings holding her to the hood, then shifted her hips to alter the man's direction of penetration, trying to take some of the control of what was happening to her.

And it worked. The man's cock touched her in that 'special place' that her husband had either never been able to reach or never cared to reach. Her cries of panic were slowly becoming cries of pleasure, with the very good possibility that they would soon become screams of ecstasy, too.

Suddenly, Sandra Lee no longer cared that she wasn't this Ella the man thought she was, assuming that that other woman wasn't just a fantasy of his. Maybe Ella was a woman who'd jilted the rapist, and right now, violating any woman was his way of getting revenge...?

Sandra couldn't know, of course, that the man had indeed mistaken her for another woman. She couldn't know that this other woman was now at home, pulling out a vibrator, disappointed that the rape she'd arranged through her sexual fantasy club hadn't taken place tonight.