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It was right after she got home, somewhat late at night that I had pulled my own car to the side and stepped out. We had been teasing, and toying with the idea of forced rape for some time now. Taking the black bag from my trunk I walked up to her apartment, the same apartment we both shared and had given her an excuse of going out that night with some friends.
She didn’t answer immediately but it gave me enough time to pull the mask on and see the shock in her face as I stood there and pushed my way inside. She was still fully clothed, her belt off her skirt for sake of comfort. My bag was dropped and the door closed amidst her trying to pull back with one of my hands comfortably around her wrist to hold her there. Our walls luckily are thick as to muffle whatever screams she had in store for me and there were a few until I was pinning her down to the floor long enough to use my strength and secure the gag around her mouth. Once frightening tones now muffled and subdued by leather and rubber.
I’m a fairly large guy, I’ve played football and easily the strongest man she’s ever had in bed. She’s by no means a waif but a trophy wife in the making, maybe my wife one day.
Watching her claw and fight with her nails and feet hitting my body and trying to rip at the long sleeve shirt I wore, it was exciting, an adrenal rush that made my jeans tight in anticipation of her being used like I had planned.
She was pulled up by her hair, her nails digging into the flesh of my hands so deep that they caused skin to tear and blood to well up. I didn’t feel it, this was too much of a turn on that all I did was bend her over the couch and pin her legs to either side of my own so the thought of kicking back at me was impossible. There was a kind of muffled wane in her scream when she heard the metal of manacles for her wrists being pulled from the black bag, a slight wince of pain from what I could see when I affixed her hands behind her back.
She moved to kick and the only thing she could do was feel how I brought my hand harshly against her hip and ass every time she tried. The skirt was somewhat flowing so each clap of my hand was given little resistance from the material of her skirt. She’s a foot shorter than I am, and my crotch rode deep against her rear as it was upturned by way of how the couch was made. Kneeling down she tried to roll but was met by my hands pushing her deeper against the couch for her to stay still.
“Keep moving and I’ll fucking make it hurt.” I said with the mask muffling my vocal tones. Her legs were soon secured and I stood up, looking down at her as she moved and tried desperately to still get away. She was feisty, and always seemed to fight until the very end. I walked around her, and opened the bedroom door, the black bag being carried with me and set on the side of the bed.
Coming back into the living room she looked at me, she hated me, she feared me and when I came around her backside… she was moist for me. Her panties sticky wet with arousal and excitement.
I pulled her up by her hair and lifted her over my shoulder, carrying her into the bedroom where her body fell back onto the bed in a slight bounce. Light from the bathroom was all that was given to her, in seeing this masked figure suddenly pull a switchblade from pocket and begin slicing her dress shirt at the buttons. Fabric began falling away which gave sight to her full D breasts; the center of her bra was cut away thereafter, her lush breasts swaying apart.
I had crawled up and straddled against her thighs, keeping them in place with the skirt lifted up so I could see the crotch of her panties, normally red, but now a kind of dark shade of burgundy from where her body betrayed her mental instinct to run. I slid my hand down and tapped against her smooth mound through those soaked panties and the sound was enough to make me rumble in my throat, like an animal.
“Look at you… wet like a slut.” I said lowly through my rumbling throat.
Her nipples were unlike small buds, or even beads, they were full, eraser nipples that begged despite the realization of rape, to be touched. My large hands squeezed and pulled at them, making shivers of pain course through her chest, and cause her body to buck in reaction.
The knife was lying at the side of her and I pulled it back up, sliding the sharpened edge against her stomach. Red strokes from the tip making contact with flesh writing out what I so affectionately loved to call her.
Blood even welled at some spots, her body movements bringing the tip deeper than needed, but it was her own fault. I merely touched the droplets of blood and proceeded to make markings with what little there was, to detail the fact of what she was to me, an arrow, pointing down to the wet lips underneath her panties.
The blade slid against the cotton fabric of her panties, slicing through delicately, she could feel where I was and maybe in a sense of reason she didn’t move. She didn’t dare tread on the idea of my blade cutting her there. She was calm for a moment, and I soon pulled away the cut fabric, exposing her entirely. The look on her eyes signaling that she knew what was coming.
Pulling back to stand she watched me through the faintest of light, taking the boots off and undoing my jeans, freeing myself and stroking slow while looking down at her form, already chaotic and yet aroused. I moved to her ankles and loosened the manacles so her thighs could easily spread for me. She tried to roll away, not wanting what was next but a quick slap to her hard nipples brought her back down.
The way she breathed through her nose began in quick intakes, electricity running through her from the way the head of my cock brushed and played against the piercing on her hood. How my free hand still molested and abused the fullness of her right breast. I didn’t use a condom; I wanted her to feel the realness of what was happening. The way my unsheathed head slid inside of her and sat there was something I’d never forget. Her body trying to suck me inside of her, begging for it, even though her eyes said No…
I plunged deep inside of her mound, my thick shaft burying inside of her while narrow hips spread as far as they could in reaction, in accommodation for fear of the pain my unrelenting thrusts caused. She was hot for me, her body creamy inside and it brought my hand from her breast in an attempt to find her hair and pulled her head downward, so she could watch this man’s cock violate her body over and over again.
Nothing sounds so sweet, as a woman’s body betraying her.
I ground my pelvic bone into her own as weight settled against her. My heavy sack slapping down against her ass in a soaked sound of her own pleasure. Little drops of saliva came down the side of her mouth while muffled hoarse groans escaped their bondage. Her eyes flitted back after minutes of watching my cock stretch and forcefully accommodate her with my thickness. Whispered hints of taking her tight rear bringing a wash of cum inside of her as she came to climax and flood my sack in her warm nectar.
The sheets were soaked when I rolled her over and pulled back on her hair to force her onto her knees. My slut’s knuckles white from being clenched in retrospect of what was to come. I held her by the bindings on her wrists, holding her upper body up as the wet shaft swirled against her puckered rear. Easing myself back and forth until it opened and began swallowing me whole. Inch by inch, I buried myself inside her impossibly tight rear.
The way she groaned in a mixture of pain and pleasure had my pre cum coating her rear in warm liquid, easing my deep strokes inside her ass. She muffled and begged to be let down from my hand on her confined wrists and I allowed her that one request, her head and shoulders coming down onto the bad flatly, which only brought her rear higher in the air.
Taking the bindings off her wrists as I neared my own orgasm, she clawed at my thighs and a pull from her ass had me turning her over and coating her breasts and stomach in my hot seed. Free hand released the mask and the look in her eyes to who it was instinctively had her hand coming down to stroke the last squirts of hot cum from my cock.
The gag was pulled off of her and laid on the lamp stand. A light laughter escaping from her lips as she realized who it was.
I guess it all ends where it eventually begins. Her rolling from under me after I pulled the ankle bindings off and stepping into the creamy sliver of light that shines from the half opened bathroom door. She had a way with how she looked at me when she turned around, her long black hair still somewhat sticky and wet from our endeavors.
“Don’t think that I’m letting you just lay there, Johnny. It’s your turn to give me what I want now.” She said before disappearing inside and leaving the door open for me. She was a flirt, a tease; she knew what men and women alike loved and how to make them beg for her. She was an addiction that you couldn’t shake, and a lover you wanted to make your own. Elusive but there for the taking at a moments notice, the perfect example of a female, body and soul.
Water ran in the bathroom while I looked up at the ceiling of her apartment, my body still weathering the effects of what had progressed over the course of the last hour the mask was still on the lamp table next to us, after I had let her down from the bindings and gag she wore in her mouth. Wet saliva still coated the straps that sat at the corners of her mouth just prior.
This woman will be the death of me, and is that so bad? Maybe a little getting back, for the fact I almost caused her own. Yet it’s the dynamic we share, and I pulled up off the bed, and stepped inside the bathroom. Wondering what she was going to do to me now.
I was starting to grow hard again.
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