Marianne's Fate Pt. 03

This will make a lot more sense if you read Chapter One (in Non-consent) and Chapter Two (in BDSM).

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Marianne woke up feeling wonderful. She lay on her side, stretched out, facing away from Slate, pressed up against his side. He was on his back so her ass was pressed against his hip and she could feel the length of his arm against her back. His hand rested on her thigh. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the places where her body was in contact with his. She could feel a sense of warmth and comfort flowing from wherever he touched her. For the first time since Slate had abducted her, she wasn't afraid. Not only that, but she was getting turned on again. It almost seemed as if heat was spreading in waves from his hand on her thigh, moving through her body to her pussy, and she felt herself getting wet. She sighed. It was so confusing to be so turned on by someone who was essentially a rapist.

Slate lay quietly next to Marianne, deeply grateful for her lack of fear. He wanted to respect her request not to "listen" to her thoughts but his intense feelings and anxiety for her made it almost impossible. He reveled in the energy that flowed between them, the shared feeling of trust and connection, and the simple yet exquisite pleasure of her skin against his.

His pleasant reverie was brought up short when he picked up on Marianne thinking of him as a rapist. This was a very ugly description, and he had a horror and disgust of some of things he had witnessed humans doing to each other. There was no rape among his people. Their telepathic abilities made the few true predators among them easy to spot imprison. He searched his memory for the use of the term on earth, the definition in her country, what he knew of humans who violated others with no concern or interest for their feelings. Was he, in her world, truly a rapist? The thought sickened him.

"Marianne," Slate said abruptly

Marianne jumped a little. "Yes?"

"You think of me as a rapist?"

Marianne thought carefully before she spoke. She hated to break the peace of the morning. Why did he care now, when all her complaints so far had been entirely ignored? Did he even understand the meaning of the word rape?

"A rapist is someone who forces another person to have any kind of sex against their will, without their consent. Yes, I think you raped me."

"I truly do not understand that. A rapist cares nothing for the feelings of those he uses. Yet I am completely guided by my knowledge of your feelings, of what brings you intense pleasure, what you desire."

Marianne took a deep breath, but couldn't quite speak calmly. "It's not about whether I enjoy it! It's about whether I choose it! You gave me no choice! In my world, if you force someone to have sex without their consent, its rape. It's a very bad thing to do." Marianne was intensely aware of the differences between them, the difficulty of seeing things through each other's eyes.

"I know what you are longing for. When you are longing for me to do something, as you were just longing for me to move my hand to your clit, is that not consent?" Slate asked, moving his hand up her thigh.

"No, it is NOT!" Marianne practically shouted. She stopped, forcing herself to relax, thinking about how to make him understand. "OK. Slate, sometimes I long for chocolate but it is not good for me, it is a bad choice, so I do not really want it, I CHOOSE not to eat it. It's not what I long, for but what I choose that matters."

Now it was Slate's turn to reflect on the differences between them. It should not be surprise to him that humans could both want and not want the same thing; it was one of their most fascinating characteristics. Still, there was a difference between basic needs and wanting unimportant things. "Marianne, perhaps you long for a food that is not best for your body. However, getting what you need sexually is very good for your body. You long to have choice taken away. You wish for me to take you, to control you, to bring you pleasure. I know this. You know this."

Marianne's brain was whirling. He was right, yet he was so wrong. She felt her perspective slipping as she began to really understand how he saw things. "Not all of me want's that! I need to be in control of my body, too, of what happens to me! What about that need, that longing? You must have read it in my mind!"

"Yes. I have. You want to be free, to choose whether to come and go, whether to stay with me or not. It is a deep sorrow to me that I cannot set you free from this ship immediately. I have imprisoned you, a grave wrong in both of our worlds, yet I could not let you die. You are here and there is nothing we can do about that now. You are also full of sexual desire. It is against my nature to ignore this for many reasons. Your need for sexual submission perfectly matches my need to dominate, to control your pleasure, to give you pleasure."

This conversation, as distressing as it was for both of them, was also turning them both on. Slate slid his hand up Marianne's thigh until it was resting between her legs, the edge of his hand pressing against her slit. She could feel herself start to swell, her vulva getting moist. The motionless light pressure of his hand was incredibly arousing, incredibly frustrating.

"But, what if it is not what I want," Marianne demanded, "will you leave me alone, then?"

"Yes, certainly I will! How can you think I would force something on you that you did not enjoy!?" Slate said, his voice sounding hurt.

This was too much for Marianne. How could she think he could force himself on her?? What did he think he had been doing? She started to laugh, the absurdity of the situation overwhelming her. After a while Slate got a glimpse of how it seemed to her, and because her laughter was so infectious, and started to laugh too. It was the first time Marianne had heard him really laugh, and she felt affection towards him spread through her. She began to wonder if he might really be very moral in his own way. This thought gave her the sense of standing on shifting sand she always got when she traveled to 3rd world countries, the culture shock when all the rules and expectations changed.

Slate turned on his side towards Marianne and pulled her over from her side to her back. Suddenly she found herself pinned under his leg and both of her hands pulled up over her head. Slate held her immobile, needing only one hand to hold both of hers. With the other hand he fumbled around beside the bed until he found what he was looking for, a very long strip of soft cloth. He quickly tied her wrists together with one end and tied the other to a tether at the top of the bed. Marianne, still giggling, started to try to pull her hands free. Slate covered her tied wrists with one hand and got suddenly got very serious.

"Do not pull. The bonds will tighten and cut your circulation off. You must lie very still and not pull on the cloth. If I have to untie you I will punish you for it," Slate said dispassionately, almost coldly.

Marianne stared up at Slate who was looking down at her with a stern expression. The laughter died in her chest and she felt her nipples harden. Her skin began to tingle and heat spread through her.

Then, his expression changing completely, Slate kissed her gently, brushed her hair off her face and stroked her cheek tenderly. Marianne felt tears come to her eyes and roll down the sides of her face. Slate kissed them away before starting a slow slide down her body, kissing her breasts and stroking her sides. He drew one nipple into his mouth and sucked it gently, stroking her other breast and circling the nipple with a forefinger with one hand. His sucking got more forceful until it became mildly painful, causing a jolt of electric pleasure to shoot from her breast through her belly to her contracting womb. It felt incredible, wonderful, the pleasure/pain glorious. He moved to the other breast, alternating pinching and gently caressing the wet nipple he had left behind. Marianne found it hard not to pull against her bonds and she writhed under him, moaning with pleasure and need.

Slate slid further down her body until he was lying between her legs. He began a slow, leisurely exploration of her folds, as if intent on discovering and memorizing every nook and cranny from her anus to her clit with his tongue and lips. He circled his tongue around her clit but avoided touching it, making Marianne groan with frustration as she wriggled in an attempt to get his mouth where she wanted it. Slate ignored her, continuing his focused journey, his tongue gliding slickly over her. He loved licking and kissing Marianne's silken folds. He loved the feel of her under her tongue, her smell, the way she tasted, and the sound of her little moans and sighs. His awareness of the intensity of her arousal, her desire for him made him rock hard. Knowing he had the power to give or withhold her orgasm, have her climax and pleasure completely within his control was, as always, intensely exciting.

Marianne was flushed and panting, her helplessness and the feeling of Slate's mouth and tongue bringing her to an intense, aching arousal. All her attention was focused between her legs. As the minutes passed she started to feel truly desperate to have Slate touch her clit, to make her cum. Finally, her control broke and she started to plead with him. "Please, please... Slate, I can't stand it, please." After what seemed like hours, he finally took pity on her. She felt him slide two fingers inside her, the feeling of being stretched incredibly satisfying. At the same time, he took her clit in his mouth, sucking gently while licking it in steady a circular motion. Marianne's felt an overwhelming gratitude as he kept up the steady rhythmic stimulation she needed to cum. As the pressure in her pussy and womb built, she lost all awareness of her surroundings. She was floating in space where nothing existed but Slate's mouth and fingers and the pleasure moving through her body in waves. When she finally came, her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave. She screamed and bucked, only her bonds keeping her from coming up off the bed, convulsing repeatedly as Slate milked every last contraction from her straining body.

Slate's cock was throbbing with need when he finally let her cum, feeling her contract around his fingers over and over as he did everything he could to draw her orgasm out. Her screams made him want to thrust into her, take her, pound against her until he reached his own satisfaction. He restrained himself, not wanting it to end so fast, not wanting to do anything to strain the fragile trust that was growing between them.

As Marianne recovered she suddenly became aware of the bonds cutting into her hands. Slate moved up to release her, cupping her throbbing mound in one hand as he removed quickly the ties around her wrists. The pressure of his hand felt so good on her still-swollen pussy and she sighed in relief as her wrists were freed and she could move her arms. While she was focusing on the pleasure of flexing her arms, Slate moved over her, spread her legs with his thighs, and slide inside her with one smooth thrust. Marianne yelped with surprise, the intense feeling of being stretched and filled giving her a delicious combination of pleasure and a small twinge of pain. Slate held himself still, fully inside her, giving her time to adjust. He flexed very softly against her, holding his weight on one elbow and massaging her wrist with his other hand, then shifted his weight and attended to her other wrist. When he felt that the marks from the bonds had faded enough, he laced his fingers in hers, pressed her hands down against the bed on either side of her head, and started thrust. He fucked her slowly, almost coming completely out with each stroke, and sliding all the way in where he stayed for several seconds, pressing against her pussy and clit. Marianne felt her arousal building again, the movement of his cock inside her massaging her sensitized walls, the sensation of being filled over and over sending waves of heat through her body.

Slate groaned at the sensation of pushing through Marianne's hot, wet folds. Sliding in and out of her slowly felt like exquisite torture, the pleasure almost unbearable. He held her hands in his, his forearms and elbows lying along side hers on either side of her head, his weight on his elbows. He lent down to kiss her, forcefully sucking her tongue into his mouth and biting very gently. At this, Marianne arched up under him, meeting his thrusts, the feeling of her rubbing herself against him making him groan. As he felt her excitement increase, Slate increased the speed of his thrusts, giving them both the friction they needed. Marianne was completely open to him, no resistance or anger in any part of her. The joy of this fact welled up inside him, making him shudder as much with happiness as with physical pleasure.

Their bodies moved together, joined, tongues sliding over each other, thrusting and pushing as if they couldn't get close enough. They lost track of both time and their surroundings, completely lost in each other. Marianne hung on the edge of orgasm for what seemed like an eternity, intense pleasure coursing though her. Finally Slate kissed her hard, sucking her tongue so deep in his mouth it almost hurt, simultaneously pinching her nipple hard enough to send a twinge of pain and electricity straight to her clit. Marianne felt as if she was falling, tumbling over a waterfall, the sensation of being completely out of control was almost frightening. She gripped Slate's hands as if for her life as her body spasmed and shook, pleasure rippling though her in overwhelming shock waves.

Marianne's screaming and the feeling her pussy contracting around his cock shattered Slate's control. He felt his own overwhelming pressure building as he swelled inside her, moving faster and faster. The force of his release as he pounded into her rocked his whole body, and he cried out as he poured himself into her.

Climaxes subsiding, Marianne and Slate lay locked together, sweaty, lungs heaving. Marianne was trembling, pressing her groin against Slate as aftershocks sent shivers through her body. Slate rolled off Marianne onto his side, pulled her up against him, slid one leg between hers to press against her, and cradled her in his arms.

Continue? Let me know.