Darkest Days

Both of her wrists fit nicely in a single one of my hands, as I pinned them against the concrete of the fountain. That left my other hand free to fumble with the button on my pants. Not the easiest of feats for someone unused to the process, but I got it quickly enough. The zipper was easier.

She mewled softly as she looked helplessly up at me. Her eyes shouted defiance, mimicked by the constant shifting of her hips. My own pressed against her to keep her legs under control and keep me from getting kicked in the head. It didn't help with trying to open my fly. Still, it wasn't enough to stop me. The moment my pants were down, my hand pressed against the slight fuzz between her legs and pushed. Another mewl escaped her lips. If the rim of the fountain was too hard for her delicate sensitivities, that wasn't my problem.

Dressed in a loose skirt, white blouse with short sleeves that ballooned at her shoulders, and pink bows that held her pig-tails, she looked like anyone's kid sister. It was an image she worked hard to cultivate. Her breasts were small enough that she didn't need to wear a bra. The push-up training one she'd chosen was ample proof of her attempts to foster the youthful image.

She'd need to get a new one, of course. As soon as I had her hands under control and her back flat against the fountain, I'd ripped open her shirt and yanked down the specious protection of the undergarment. The straps hadn't been designed to carry any real weight and snapped with only a fraction of my strength. Even if they hadn't, I'd have been ready to use the knife that hung on the back of my belt.

If I cared about such things, I'd have known in the first instant I grabbed her that she wanted this. She might not have been able to fight me off, being less than half my mass with no upper body strength, but she never once screamed. She fought, she glared, she whimpered but it was all a token defense.

Truthfully, Idid care. I don't usually get off on this kind of thing. Sure, I'll pay for a good time now and then but I don't need totake it in order to enjoy myself. And I certainly don't have a thing for young girls. Of course, she only looked young. Although no one kept records these days, she was at least twice as old as her body and carefully maintained image insisted.

This was meant to be an abject lesson. That was why I'd thrown her down on her back. Most guys, when they really sought to fuck a woman against her will, bent her over forward so she couldn't see their face. It kept revenge a more difficult proposition.

Might makes right. That sort of sentiment ruled the world in which we lived. It was a world generally dominated by men. Occasionally a truly ruthless woman managed to cow the surrounding region into following her but generally that was more a situation that occurred in the privacy of one's home. Get any large number of people together and the alpha male response kicked in for some and rather quickly displaced the would-be queen.

The little cunt beneath me was the exception to the rule. Most women discovered how fruitless it was to attempt to rule by pure charisma. They tried to flirt, or downright prostitute themselves, in order to maintain their grip. Unfortunately, eventually, jealousy would rear its ugly head and the guys would depose her. She'd last a bit longer than ruthless force, but not much.

The cute bitch here had found a different path to follow. Rather than bank on more adult feminine whiles, she convinced the men around her that she was utterly harmless. It hadn't taken long for her to garnish enough of the protector sentiment from the guys that no one wanted to cross her, for fear of the repercussions. From there, it was easy enough to twist their collective ears until they all fell into the habit of submission to her will.

I don't have a problem with that. More power to her! It's such a subtle ploy that countless women across the globe should try it. I don't know if the world would be different if women ruled it, instead of men, but I'd be willing to let them try. It's not like they could do muchworse of a job than the men.

No. The bitch needed a lesson because she forgot the single rule of the world.There's always someone stronger than you!

I'm a vagrant. Unlike ninety-nine percent of the population, I have no desire to find a nice place to settle down. I've been told that in times past I would have been called an archeologist. I find old cities and towns, from before the fall of civilization, and dig up whatever might prove the most profitable. Gold, jewels and tools are my most common find but every once in a while I come across some gem of technology that people are really willing to pay for.

She'd heard about me, about my reputation for quality goods, and sent an invitation. Given that she runs a sizeable city, population nearly ten thousand including the outlying farms, I'd have been stupid not to accept. With that many potential customers, I could have unloaded my entire current stock and earned as much as a year's living.

Unlike her, I didn't forget the way the world works. One thing about vagrancy, it keeps you from becoming complacent. I did my research and discovered the political layout of the region. I knew how she ran things. Most importantly, I made certain to leave the lion's share of my goods hidden well beyond the city limits. Sure, I'd need to make numerous trips to sell it all but I couldn't lose everything in one ill-timed catastrophe.

She turned out to be just such a catastrophe. She was attracted to the shiny baubles I brought along. She was excited by the couple of pieces of technology I'd scrounged. She was all but drooling over the precision-crafted pistol I kept strapped to my thigh for personal defense. When the price wasn't right,free, she decided tomake it right. She grinned when she had 'her boys' strip me naked and send me on my way at the point of my own firearm.

She wasn't grinning now.

All I could spare was a thumb. Slowly, inch-by-inch, her skirt crept up. Despite the facade she continued to attempt to portray, she no longer tried to buck me off. Instead, her hips rolled upward. Unfortunately for her, my hand was just a little too high to hit her clit 'by accident'. Even the continued glare began to ring bells of falsehood in my mind.

It wasn't until I finally moved to tear off her underwear that the truth really sank in. The simple white cotton panties matched the push-up bra in her illusion of youthful innocence. Undoubtedly, she occasionally slipped up and offered her mindless followers an 'unintentional' glimpse to fuel the very fantasies that they berated themselves for imagining.

Right then, they were soaked through. The thick material would have been difficult enough to rip away under normal circumstances. Sodden with her desire, it was impossible. A single tug was all I needed to know that. Worse still, when my knife slid between the tough fabric and her soft flesh, she lost all pretense of resistance and moaned.

Damn if that didn't turn me on! I quickly cut away the offending undergarment and slid the knife back into its sheath. Genuine resistance would have saddled me with some measure of guilt after the fact. I would have salved it with the knowledge that she needed a reminder that there were people out there who could not be fucked with. The suggestion that she was turned on by the possibility that I could do anything to her, damage her, forced me to push more brutal thoughts from my mind. Now I was going to have to wonder what darkness mightreally live inside me.

The drenched fabric didn't lie. She was so wet that I slid inside easily, despite her tightness. Her muscles clutched and pulsed against me even as her back arched and her body began to shudder with the first signs of orgasm. My body pumped against her. I could tell I went a little too deep, both by feel and the occasional squeak of pleasure-drenched pain that escaped her, but that only inspired my body to punch harder.

It made sense, in a twisted sort of way. As a woman, she had to be extra careful to meticulously control everything and everyone around her, lest someone try to wrest it from her through force. The sheer stress that such a life entailed would demand she relinquish that control in some aspect of her life, often during sexual encounters.

Given the strength and desperation with which her muscles gripped me, it was clear it had been quite a long time since she'd been able to afford any such relationship, much less one that played to her hidden fantasies. After all, she couldn't choose any of her subjects for fear that they would assert that same dominance in the rest of her life.

Besides, the pretense with which she'd gained power might allow for occasional 'accidental' hints at sexuality but no more. After all, the kind of guys which would seriously consider fucking their little sisters were the same ones she had to get rid of as quickly as possible. Otherwise they would ruin her entire plot.

I, on the other hand, was the perfect answer. Although I hadn't realized it when I began, I'd given her exactly what she wanted, what sheneeded. I'd dominated and humiliated her and sent her into an almost instantaneous, screaming, orgasm. Once it was over, she could go whimpering back to her hoard as the victim. They'd hunt me down and kill me or I'd kill them. If the later, I might even waltz right back in, take the pressures of ruling off her shoulders and fuck her silly seven nights a week.

The only downside, from her perspective, was a little humiliation. Of course, that would only cement her image as the helpless girl who needed to be protected. It wouldn't even compromise the chances that they would fall in step the next time she barked an order.

As lessons went, I quickly realized that this one wasn't going to go as planned. The way she bucked against each thrust proved how desperate she was. Eyes rolled back into her head spoke of nearly unbearable ecstasy. The 'shame' of walking back through town, naked beneath the tatters of her clothes, would fuel her ambitions. Even the slight pain that was all I could bring myself to cause was an aphrodisiac in the state she was in.

My body began to shudder. The pressure that had begun to build in my balls felt like liquid fire. All at once, I felt it burn its way up my shaft and explode inside her. The release, or maybe just my sudden expansion within her tightness, pushed her even farther over the edge. Her back arched and then collapsed beneath me. I continued to pump both my hips and my seed. All strength gone, all she could do was twitch and gasp.

With one last thrust, I finally released her hands. She squeaked in pain but her body clutched tighter, as if it knew nothing more would be offered and was offended. That was when I realized therewas one potential degradation that would pound the lesson home.

It wasn't difficult to keep myself firmly embedded within her. Normally, I'd begin to soften almost before the last of my climax wore off. The insistence with which her body clung to me helped cure me of that problem.

Now, with both hands free, I quickly slid her ruined shirt up her arms. A couple of twists and knots later and her hands were bound together above her head. I pulled my knife out and was sickeningly rewarded with another mewl of desire, and subsequent demanding pulse of her already tight cunt, when the cold metal brushed the skin between her breasts. A flick of my wrist and the bra fell apart.

Her eyes, lightly shut in her satiated afterglow, fluttered open in confusion when she felt me pull it free with little regard to the treasures it once bore. Her confusion grew when I pulled out of her and just as quickly stuffed the ruined clothing in my place. It wasn't until I retied the severed ends of her panties, very tightly, that she began to react. Horror replaced confusion but her muscles held too little strength to move, much less resist.

Considerately, I left her hanging upright. Actually, I didn't want to take the chance that she would regain her strength quickly enough to undo my lesson so I picked her up and secured her bound wrists to the spout of the fountain. It would take a while before she would be able to work herself free. Any reserves of strength she had, at the moment, were needed to keep the strain off of her shoulders.

Genuine tears of fear and horror leaked down her cheeks. She whimpered as I walked away.

In her desperation for sex, she probably would have reveled in any amount of pain I dished out. As I'd already realized, the humiliation would only increase her power. But there was one thing thatcould weaken her position. That little girl image wouldn't hold up well if she got pregnant. Even after her body returned to normal, the perception of maturity would remain in the minds of her people, slowly eroding the basis of her authority.

It didn't matter to me, one way or the other, if I actually succeeded. What little I'd done might prevent the semen from dripping out, or being quickly flushed out, but it would mostly be a question of timing. I'd pumped enough into her that she'd probably be knocked up if she were fertile, even without my little additions. Those had mostly been to emphasize the fact that Ihad come inside her with full knowledge thatI didn't have to suffer any consequences.

From the tears that rolled freely down her cheeks and the pleading eyes that begged me to free her, in order to scrape or flush the memory of my body from her system, the lesson had been well learned.

Copyright November 2011 by Deathlynx