She was naked, tied quite firmly to the bed. His bed. The bed that she’d had all but two seconds to get out of before he’d caught her again. The miserable fuck. Her clothing wasn’t strewn about on the floor. Oh no, not for this guy. He’d shredded it with that fucking Swiss Army knife, into chunks and ribbons until none of it would ever be wearable again. On the top of the pile the ace bandage with which she had bound her breasts lay in long strips, mocking her. It was that which had gotten her to this state. Poking at the pile of debris with his toe and looking at her, he flashed her a smug look.
“Don’t worry about this, pussycat. You won’t need these anyway. I plan to keep you naked and right here for a long, long time.”
He’d smiled at her then. A smile that was feral, hungry, and just a bit mocking. As if he knew that this was terrifying.
How she hated to admit that to herself. But somewhere in the deepest darkest pit of her mind there was a tiny little spark that thrilled to being bested. Not in an “omg take me I’m yours” kind of way. This went deeper, into the animal part of her brain, where dark fantasies occasionally made their way to her dreams. Yet here she was, definitely not dreaming. His next words were hard reality, and chilling.
“Oh, by the way, pussycat–feel free to scream. The staff is away for a few days. They’re used to my occasional need for solitude. We’ll have plenty of that for the next few days. And as I’m sure you noticed while you were casing the joint, to speak in your vernacular, there are no neighbors.”
She stared at him, wanting to strike out at him, at the smartass bastard’s face. To poke him in the eyes, to bite and watch him struggle. To tie him to the bed and…and..she had no idea what. She glared at him as he stood there, smug asshole, staring down at her, looking at her body. Ogling her. Standing at the end of the bed holding a feather, for fuck sake, stripped down to plaid boxers.
“You look ridiculous. You look like an ass.”
All the epitaphs in the world and that was what came out of her mouth. She all but rolled her eyes at her lame response. He just smirked at her, holding the feather and examining it.
“It looks so silly, I know. A little feather like this, just fluttering in my fingers. But.”
He let the word hang there for a minute.
“In the right hands, pussycat, this will destroy your will. Remember what I promised you.”
Her eyes met his. Hell yes she remembered, but damned if she’d say as much to him. The fucking asshat. His eyebrow rose as they fought a silent, deadly war.
“I won’t beg you for anything, you jerk.”
“I guess we’ll see then, won’t we?”
He trailed the tip of the feather from her knee to her ankle along the inner curve of her calf. Her leg twitched at the barely-there touch. His eyes followed the gently curved tip of the pheasant feather. She was embarrassed and shocked to be here, bested by this….this…subhuman! And tied open, displayed.
“You’re a real piece of work, you bastard,” she spat. “You need to let me go. NOW.”
There was no reaction other than a faint lift to the corner of his mouth. Her head rocked side to side, her wrists curled into fists, tugging on her restraints. She barely moved an inch, and wound up with a face full of hair for her struggles. She hoped he’d get mad, react to her, say something. Anything.
Yet his eyes only followed the path of the feather tickling over and around her calf and foot. It danced over her toes, making her hiss and try to wriggle away, but the tenacious thing followed her moves to evade, effortlessly.
“Stop!” The word came out as a giggle, but he didn’t even look at her.
Over, around, teasing.
Wriggling. Writhing. Tugging. Laughing.
“Fuck! FUCK! omg…” This last as the feather caressed the bottom of her foot. Up and down the arch, under the toes, around the heel, then back up her calf.
This time it didn’t stop at her knee, but moved up her inner calf. Up, around, over the top, around towards the far side, then down, down to torment her other calf, her foot.
She laughed. Cried. Cried laughing. And laughing became begging as the tip caressed her belly. As it circled her belly button drawing ticklish figure eights around and around until she wanted to scream. And when she did, tears rolling down her cheeks, the tip of the feather flicked higher, teasing at the curve of ribs, the underside of one plump breast then the other.
She barely noticed when his finger entered her. Shuddered when his thumb began to rub her clit as the finger was joined with another, as it fluttered away inside her belly. It registered that the tickling on the outside resembled the tickling inside her but she was beyond caring.
Something inside her built to a furious frenzy. Her words were begging, panting things asking for who knew what; her nipples rose as if to join the pleas.
“I told you I would make you beg,” he said from a hundred miles away, as the orgasm crashed through her, sending her spinning into oblivion.
She hated him.
When she woke from the spin through space, she was sweat soaked. Sex soaked. Shaking, curled on her side with his arm around her. He was naked. She was naked. His fingers caressed her tits, pinching and pulling and twisting her nipples until the need grew deep between her legs. Her pussy throbbed and she whimpered aloud as his fingers trailed down her body to stroke her clit.
She begged again, hating him for it, for building the need so intensely. She’d never had sex with anyone that came even close to this.
He’d fucked her from behind as his hands continued to stroke and tease and hurt her tits, until he’d pulled out, and pushed her to her belly.
“Knees down, ass up, pussycat,” he’d said, tugging her into position.
“Wider.” Hands slapped her inner thighs and she moved them apart, feeling humbled by the exposure. He kept doing that, just kept finding ways to make her feel like …like a slut.
“I’m not your whore,” she’d mumbled, but of course he’d heard.
“You’re whatever I want you to be.”
The words were spoken in a quiet, firm voice, and shocking to absorb. There was no time to retort as he’d thrust his cock into her, the position allowing him to fill her deeper, rub all the right places. She swore she could have traced the shape of his cock along her belly he was so deeply embedded in her. His hips swiveled, making her gasp. His balls rubbed against her pussy lips, the gentle movement bumping her excited clit.
Never had she been fucked like this. She was full of him, surrounded by him, undone cell-by-cell by him. The orgasm built like a wave, like a nuclear burst. Her head was going to explode, as the pressure grew, the need to release just growing stronger. Yet he was holding back, just enough to keep her on the edge.
“Please,” she sobbed, “I’m so close…”
“Pussycat needs to cum, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, gawd yes…please…”
“If you insist…” His voice sounded dubious.
She was on fire, the need rippling through her like the promise of rain on a hot summer day.
“Yes, please, please yes…so…oh gawd…please…” her breath hissed out as she was there, just there, hanging on the very edge….yet she hadn’t expected what had come next.
He’d popped his thumb into her asshole.
On the heels of her outraged gasp of shock, her cunt clamped down on his shaft, and she’d had the orgasm of her life. She could feel the juices squirting from her, feel the quick hard throb as her anus protested the intrusion, feel her pussy squirming and twitching along the hard rigid length of him.
She could also feel him laughing.
She hated him.