Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 02byJasmine30©
He was back. The man who had raped her was back in her house, she could feel his presence like a cloak wrapped around her shoulders, feel his eyes devouring her. She cursed him for returning, she had almost obliterated his memory from her days. He still haunted her nights, filling her dreams with erotic memories full of dark twisted desire and sweet pleasure.
She hadn't told her husband what had happened that weekend. And she hadn't reported it to the police, she had been too ashamed. She had enjoyed it and wasn't sure she could file a report knowing that. Besides, there wouldn't have been any way to identify him physically other than D.N.A. She had only caught brief glimpses of his features and none long enough to remember what he actually looked like; she only had an impression, not a solid identification.
Over the past two months since he had raped her she had found herself wishing he would come back, that she knew who he was. She couldn't explain these thoughts, or why she desired this man and she tried to fight them, but the memories made it impossible to forget. The last time her husband had left to his aunt's ranch with the kids to give her a weekend off; she had lain in bed waiting for him, hoping he would come back. He hadn't but he was here now. She wondered why.
Her heart beat faster when she felt him move closer. The room was completely dark unlike last time when she could at least make out some of his features in the shadows. She caught his scent and her nostrils flared like an animal in heat. She remembered what he had done to her, how her body had responded to him, how it was responding now and then she knew why he was here. He couldn't forget what had happened either.
That thought sent the blood swimming through her veins, increasing her awareness of him. A hand reached out of the darkness and slid down her hair, softly caressing the tangled mass. Isabelle shuddered, the memory of his hands on her slowly being replaced by the reality. On really long nights she had wondered if she had dreamt the whole thing, but his hands sent shockwaves through her, eliminating all doubt that it had been real.
She wanted him, hadn't stopped wanting him since his visit so many nights ago. The nights since had been spent dreaming of the things they had done, what he had made her do for him, and to him. She shivered, remembering the nights she had touched her pussy, rubbing herself frantically as the thoughts of him filled her mind. Her body would buck silently in the bed, remembering his length jammed into her.
"Did you miss me?" He whispered in the darkness, his voice shattering the quiet stillness.
"I wasn't sure you were real." She replied.
"Oh, I'm real." He said, sitting on the bed next to her.
Isabelle pulled the sheet to her chest and sat up, reaching a hand out to touch his face, wanting to feel the contours against her fingers. He caught her hand midway, closing his fingers over hers and bringing them to his chest, where she could feel his heart thumping through his shirt. It matched the thumping going on inside her chest.
Isabelle licked her dry lips in anticipation. What did all of this mean? Why this man? Why now? The questions crowded her mind, competing for equal time. She pushed the thoughts aside, he was here; she could touch him; that was all that mattered.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you. I tried to stop, but the memories were too strong. I wondered if you were going to come back and I waited for you. When you didn't come back right away, I figured you weren't going to." Isabelle said, the words echoing in the silent room.
"Why didn't you report it the police?" He asked, shifting his weight closer to her on the bed.
"I..." She started, "I couldn't." She finished lamely wondering how he knew she hadn't reported it.
"Why not?" He whispered in her ear, the vibrations of his voice setting off goose bumps all over her now chilled skin.
"Because I wanted it." She answered quietly, trying unsuccessfully to pull her hand back, but he held fast.
"Hmmm, you did too. I have never seen a pussy that wet, you soaked me Isabelle. I haven't been able to stop thinking about that, or about the way you sucked my cock, or the way your pussy came over my tongue." He said, sending a tingle through her spine.
Still holding her hand he pressed it against the bulge in his pants, letting the memories assault her mind while her hand reacquainted itself with his size. He allowed her to open her hand and close it over him, squeezing the length of him with her small palm. Isabelle's body was coming alive, her senses overflowing, as she caressed him.
She reached for him with her other hand, needing to feel him encased between her palms. She grew impatient when her hands encountered the buttons on his pants and she fumbled with them in the dark until they finally popped open. She didn't bother trying to take them off; she just needed her hands on him, wanted to feel his heat. She needed to know that it had been real, that she had been taken by this stranger in the dark and had loved it, wanted more.
She pushed his briefs down and wrapped her palms around his shaft, reveling in the heat coming from him. He was hard, extremely so. His cock jerked in her hands, the head bumping against her fingers. She had waited for two long months to know what he felt like in her hands and now she knew it was beyond anything she had conjured in her mind, it was magical.
She let her hands dance over the entire surface of his shaft, memorizing every vein and ridge. His head was large, jutting up every time she brushed against it. She leaned into his frame, her mostly naked form coming into contact with his clothed body. She wanted to feel his naked body against hers, the length pressed completely to hers with not a single inch between them. She couldn't put a voice to the need pulsating through her; it was too intense with too many emotions riding on the surface. Arousal, shame, and desire so intense it took her breath away and coursed through her veins.
She looked up to see him studying her in the moonlight; his eyes were dark, brooding orbs that held many secrets. He returned her stare, their eyes meeting for the first time since he had raped her so many nights ago. His gaze was full of dark desire, twisted secrets that only the two of them knew. Her hands stilled, his throbbing cock resting in her palms.
Isabelle tried to control the beating of her heart as she looked upon her attacker for the first time. It was still too dark to make out his features but his eyes held her in their trap like a deer in the headlights. So many things went through her mind, the absolute belief that she belonged to him was one of them. Never had a man so mesmerized her.
"I don't even know your name." She said thickly, the words sticking in her throat.
"You wish to know my name? That would only complicate things. I know I can't have you, sweet pussy, we only have this. My name is unimportant."
"Please tell me." She pleaded.
"No, It's not important." he replied firmly.
"Why didn't you come back sooner?" She asked, noting the tone of her voice which suggested she would have welcomed him back much sooner than this.
"I had no plans to come back Isabelle, I thought I could have you once and that would be enough to stop the dreams of you. I didn't know it was only the start of more dreams, dreams filled with the memory of your skin." He said while his thumb rubbed over her bottom lip, plumping the skin out.
Isabelle's breath caught in her throat at his whispered confession. She had been unsuccessful in eradicating the memories of him as well. It had been all she could do to act normally around her husband and kids. Ever since that night, she had felt like a different woman, a woman with secrets, secrets that aroused a restlessness that niggled at her constantly.
She walked around with a confidence she hadn't had before, the passion she had experienced with this man had changed who she was. You could see the changes in the way she walked, she walked like a woman who had been thoroughly taken and wanted more of that in her life.
Her nipples tingled at the most inopportune times, she would be in the grocery store and a memory of that night would invade her mind, and suddenly she would be fully aroused in the middle of a hundred strangers, her face flushed and her insides throbbing. But then she would smile, because she had never felt so alive, so free to explore her sexuality, so desired. She couldn't deny the woman he had made her into, a woman who craved his touch constantly; a woman who got aroused in a grocery store just at the memory of his touch.
He slid his hand under her jaw, breaking the spell. He studied her face as his thumb grazed her lower lip. His hand slipped towards the back of her neck, sliding into the tangle of hair and pulling her head back. His mouth came down hard on hers, his tongue snaking out to possess her mouth. The kiss was hot and demanding, he took her mouth like a desperate man. She eagerly returned his kiss, leaning into him and meeting the insistent stroking of his tongue, feeling equally as desperate.
The scent of his skin was dizzying; his mouth claiming hers sent her on an emotional roller coaster. He didn't wait for her to return his kiss; he only took, silently laying his claim on her. The moan built up in her throat, bubbling up in a desperate attempt to release the exquisite sensations coursing in her veins. His kiss was everything she needed and had craved since his last visit.
He shoved her away abruptly and pushed her down onto the bed. She felt his eyes moving over her and she shivered as the cool air blowing over her replaced his warmth. His hands gripped hers and moved them to the headboard, forcing her hands open and placing them around the wrought iron bars.
"Don't let go, love, whatever you do, don't let go. Don't forget that I will punish you if you disobey me."
His hands slid down her arms, caressing the muscles taut with maintaining her grip on the bars. His fingers stopped at the fabric barrier of her nightgown. He looped a finger into the hem at the top of her gown and tugged it downward slightly, testing the fabric's strength. He smiled at the thin barrier covering her body and she realized that he would not allow anything to hinder his progress.
She heard a soft snick and turned toward the noise, at first she saw nothing, then in the dark a glint shone off of something he was holding. She knew she was still in danger from this man, despite how much she had wanted it the last time, he was still a complete stranger and the very fact that he had her fate in his hands sent a shiver down her spine.
The shiver increased as she realized what he was holding. A shiny blade caught the moonlight as he leaned closer and Isabelle felt the panic well up deep in the pit of her stomach. She let go of the headboard and tried to get up before he reached her, but he was way too quick. He wrapped his knife-free arm around her waist and dumped her back onto the bed.
"Didn't I tell you not to let go? I'm not going to hurt you Isabelle. But it's important you understand that you can't disobey me." He put the knife in his mouth and again moved her hands to the headboard, wrapping his hands around hers for a quick squeeze. The tender touch was in direct contrast to the knife held tightly between his teeth.
With the knife still in his mouth, he moved to straddle her legs, taking care that her pussy was still within reach. She couldn't see but she could feel his movements. He ran a hand down the length of her body, then back up to cup her breast, squeezing the tender flesh, filling his hand with the weight.
She didn't want to admit she was afraid, more afraid then she was the first time. Yes, he had raped her the first time and she hadn't known if he would hurt her, but somehow after the fact, she had to admit to herself that she hadn't really been afraid, not for her life anyway. Being in this precarious position though changed her perspective drastically. She watched warily and waited for his next move.
She felt the cold steel brush against her arm and couldn't help trying to move away. The blade wasn't directly on her, he was using it to somehow caress her arm but the threat existed nonetheless. He trailed it down to her shoulder; then traced the neckline of her gown and then to her other arm ending at her fingertips white from gripping the bars.
She watched as the glinting metal again landed at her neckline. He was very deliberate in his actions, using the knife to lift the fabric away from her breasts. She gasped as he cut through the soft cotton down the middle of the gown, the gown parting to reveal the tops of her breasts in the night light. He had only cut through an inch or so of fabric but it was enough to make her feel completely exposed. And afraid.
"What are you doing?" She managed to rasp out.
"Don't worry, sweet pussy, and don't let go of the bars no matter what. You understand me?" He answered.
"Yes." She whispered back, uncertain now of what she should do.
The cool steel again brushed her skin, this time in between her breasts and up and over her tingling nipples. He used it to push her nightgown away from her breasts, exposing her nipples to the night air; then ran the blunt end of the knife over them, flicking the nipples into hard little nubs. His usage of the knife seemed second nature as he wielded it to tease her nipples.
His free hand came up her leg and pushed the gown to her hips, exposing her cotton panties. She wanted to move, afraid of what he would do next but he was straddling her legs, trapping her against the bed. She could have tried to buck him off but the knife in his hand pretty much nixed that idea.
She made an effort to relax her grip on the headboard, and tried to think. But it was impossible to think when her body craved him like this. She was confused about her reaction, this man had a knife and she was scared but her tingling nipples and the wetness growing between her legs said otherwise. So she did nothing, but she knew deep in her heart that she wanted his domination of her, she wanted his cock plunging into her and she wanted to know that she belonged to him. With that knowledge came even more fear, for who knew what she would do to have him.
She heard the soft cotton tearing and knew he was using his hands to pull the fabric of her nightie apart. He spread it down to her navel, letting it drape away from her breasts where it gathered in a pool of forgotten cloth on either side of her. The nightie brushing against her skin and the cold steel of his blade elicited a soft moan from her lips.
She felt the cold steel running a line from her breasts down to her navel as she desperately tried to suck air into her lungs. He toyed with her stomach, using the knife handle to trace her smooth hips, to circle her belly button, all the while testing her ability to obey. The handle of the knife kept coming dangerously close to her underwear, even slipping under the hem at one point. Her hands were going numb from gripping the headboard but still she did not let go.
"I'm glad you decided to listen. I can't have you disobeying me when it comes to something as important as this Isabelle. Make sure you don't let go, love." He whispered in the darkened room.
His weight shifted and she felt him position himself farther down her legs. Then she broke out in goose bumps as she felt the knife move closer to her panties. His hand hovered over her mound, the knife handle dangling very close to the top of her pussy. She wanted to push up against his hand but knew he wouldn't want her to. She almost did it to spite him, but then thought better of it considering the position she was in.
Five seconds later Isabelle was very glad she didn't as she felt the knife slice through her panties. He had very deliberately cut an opening down the front of her slit and pushed the fabric aside to expose her swollen mound now framed by the jagged edge of her panties.
"Hmm, look at that sweet wet pussy. So sweet, Isabelle." His voice shattered the spell she was under, the shock of what was happening wearing off.
"What are you doing?" She rasped out, the fear and lust making her voice husky.
"I'm taking what's mine." He stated in response.
"I don't belong to anybody." She replied shock and lust being replaced by anger.
"Well, that's true, you certainly don't belong to that poor excuse of a husband you have. I bet you he's never made you cum like I did. But make no mistake Isabelle, you belong to me." The tone of his voice suggested that she not argue this point further.
She felt the truth in his words and the shame that it brought. Her husband had never touched her this way, had never excited her so thoroughly, had never taken her body and used it in this way. She wasn't sure she would have welcomed it from him anyway. He was always so stiff and unsure of what to do; she would have been surprised if he had exhibited any of the qualities this man seemed to have.
Isabelle was yanked out of her silent reverie when she felt the heat of his palm rub against her soft lips. Her body reacted instantly, the anger gone as suddenly as it appeared as her hips bumped up. Her reaction elicited a chuckle from her attacker.
"Ah, just as I expected. You can't stay angry at me Isabelle. Your body needs this, needs to be stroked, taken. You need me to slake your thirst, this incredible thirst your body has for me." The smugness in his tone only served to inflame her even more.
He moved off of her legs and moved her around like a rag doll, picking up a leg and swinging under it so he was positioned in between her legs instead of pinning her down. The knife forgotten, he then grabbed both legs and spread them apart as wide as they could go forcing her panties to split further and her pussy to jut out.
She felt exposed and insecure. Her pussy was gaping out of her slit underwear and this man was watching her every move. Yet in that exposure was incredible desire, for she was completely vulnerable to this man's whims and dark desires. Last time she had been afraid and maybe that fear had heightened her desire but she didn't think so. It was this man, he had the power to excite her this way, to reach down to the deepest parts of her and pull out her darkest fantasies.
His hands moved over her thighs, caressing and squeezing the soft flesh of her inner thighs. He then moved his hands further up, teasing the torn fabric outlining her pussy. His finger found the opening and slid in to touch her swollen pussy mound. He drew small circles over her lips, not quite parting them, not quite touching them, just a faint impression of his finger lingering over her wetness.
Isabelle fought the urge to push her mound into his hand. She so desperately needed to feel him but her desire was fighting with her pride. She gripped the iron bars tighter and held her breath as his finger brushed over her lips again. She felt her panties being pulled even farther apart, his fingers working efficiently now.
He shifted his position until he was braced over her, his mouth hovering against her ear. "Do you like it when I play with your pussy? It's so swollen and puffy. Do you know what I want to do to that pussy of yours? I'm going to tell you." He whispered close to her ear.
"First, I'm going to stroke your lips until they're painfully swollen. I'm going to spread those lips open and watch your pussy contract for me. Then I might make out with your pussy or shove my finger deep into your wet walls. Maybe two or three fingers, depending on how wet you are and if you can take it. And even if you can't take it Isabelle, I'm still going to do it, because I need to feel those walls contracting around me."