The Taking of Celice

Martin stared out of the window on a wild, windy October evening and waited for Celice to arrive. His heart was pounding, and he had to clench his fists and force himself to stand still and not pace.

He had been friends with Celice for two years. And in the course of that time, he had hidden a steadily growing desire to have her in a way that went far beyond friendship.

He was a man with a rare gift for insight, something that had helped him a good deal where Celice was concerned, because despite being a good listener and friend, Celice kept a careful distance from everyone, Martin included. Had it not been for his gift of reading people, he would know so little about Celice that it would have been difficult to even call her a close friend.

In the past six months, he had actually managed, by some miracle of luck, to get her a little bit drunk, and she had admitted that the few sexual encounters she had had were extremely disappointing and painful to discuss. She had offered no further insight, but as she had spoken Martin could almost see her slipping comfortably into a coat of supreme self control, which she probably wore even to bed at night and in the shower. She lived by her own rules, and Martin knew that she was not a woman to be owned forever by anyone. He had no desire to do that. But he had often seen, in those distant green eyes of hers, a small spark behind the mask, a spark that he longed to fan into flame. Though he would not own her, he knew that if he handled her just right, he could have her, even if only for one night.

And he wanted her. He had ever since he'd known her. It was not only her physical beauty, though that would have been reason enough. She was small and delicate, and her face reminded him of a favorite cameo pin his grandmother used to love. But those emerald eyes of hers haunted his dreams, always cool and distant, never letting anyone or anything in for even one minute.

After two years of longing, Martin finally realised that he had a choice to make. He either had to end their friendship completely, or he had to tear that protective coat off of her and make her reveal the passion within herself that she denied. And make her accept and enjoy it, or he knew he would lose her even as a friend. He had often caught her looking at him in an almost regretful way, and she'd always looked away quickly when he tried to meet her eyes, but not quickly enough sometimes. He had seen unmistakable interest in her eyes several times.

It was a chance, but he was willing to take it. He certainly could not stand the tension and the longings within him any longer.

After days of trying to come up with a plan, he finally realised that he was going to have to improvise, because Celice was unpredictable, and he could not be sure of her. The only thing he did know was that she was going to fight him. She was proud of her control, and he knew she was terrified of losing it. He would have to be very careful, and win the fight without hurting her.

So he had called her an hour ago and asked her to come over and help him with a problem he said he was having with his computer. Celice knew a good deal about them, for she had helped him in the past. Despite the steadily growing wind and rapidly building black clouds in the sky, Celice had agreed to come over.

The wind had picked up a good deal by the time her car pulled up outside, and rain was beginning to pelt against the glass of the living room window. Martin took a deep breath, gathered together all of his nerve, and opened the front door before Celice could even ring the bell.

"Whew!" she said, dodging inside. "I just beat the rain, thank goodness."

"Looks like a hell of a storm brewing," Martin replied, closing the door against the now howling wind.

He watched Celice take off her trenchcoat and drape it over his shabby couch. She wore jeans and a button down white shirt that showed off her slender body and delicate curves, and he stared, something he had always tried not to do in the past.

Celice, aware of his penetrating gaze but clueless as to the cause of it, decided to just focus her attention on the reason he had asked her over. She started toward his workstation, which was in the living room, but before she could touch the computer there was a terrific howl of wind, a brilliant flash of lightning, and the lights went out, plunging the room into semidarkness.

Excellent timing, Martin thought.

"Well, you don't have to worry about your computer problem at the moment," Celice said, trying to sound casual. But she was uneasy, especially now that the lights were out. Being around Martin had always unsettled her in a way that she had always completely shut her mind to. And as soon as she had stepped into his house, she had sensed that something was different, but she could not quite pin it down. At least not until his stare had burned into her and made her whole body tingle. He'd never done that before.

"I guess not," Martin replied, and in the darkness his voice was very, very quiet. Alarm bells jangled in Celice's mind. She did not know what had come over her friend, but she couldn't ignore what her mind was telling her. That trouble was about to start, and there was a tension in the air that had not been there in the past, and she should not be enjoying it as she was.

There was only a dim light in the room, broken by occasional flashes of lightning, but when Celice turned around she could see Martin standing directly behind her. Not close enough to touch, but blocking her path to her coat and the front door.

She risked a look up at his face, and instantly regretted it. His brown eyes burned with a fire she had never before seen, and it burned her to the spot that she stood in. He wore no smile on his face, and his fists were clenched by his sides. She could see the muscles in his arms taut with strain. And she could hear a change in his breathing.

Get out, her mind said firmly. Get out of here now, move!

Martin saw realisation enter Celice's eyes, immediately followed by determination-and that same spark of interest he had seen before that she did not know showed through to him. He still had to be careful, because the determination was a hell of a lot stronger than the interest.

"Martin, what's the matter with you?" Celice asked. Her voice shook a little, which enraged her.

"Nothing," he replied in that same quiet tone. He never took his eyes off of her.

Celice nodded uncertainly. "If you say so. Since I can't do anything about your computer, I'd better be getting back home before the storm gets any worse."

She made an attempt to step around him and retrieve her coat, but due to the dim light, Martin was able to move so fast that she had no time to react. He grabbed her by the arm, not hard enough to hurt her, but enough to stop her in her tracks.

"I can't let you leave, Celice," he said.

When he said that, Celice's heart began to pound. His grip on her arm was hard, almost bruising, stirring fear and another extremely disturbing feeling that again, she tried to ignore. Her blood felt like molten lava running through her veins.

"I can't do anything here, Martin, and I can drive in-"

"I'm not letting you leave."

At that moment Celice entered into a battle which would go on for the remainder of the night, a battle between her mind and her body. She had always ignored one and leaned on the other. She closed her eyes for a minute and listened to her mind, which for the moment was still speaking clearly, and telling her that she was definitely in trouble and had to be strong.

"Martin, let me go," Celice said through her teeth, but her voice did not sound angry, as she had hoped that it would. It sounded too shaky, too... breathless.

"No," he murmured, in that same quiet voice that now terrified her.

Celice tried to jerk her arm free of Martin's grip, but obviously expecting the attempt, Martin used the movement to turn her around so that her back was to him, and jerked her up against him, closing his arms around her and trapping her arms to her sides.

He felt her body freeze in his arms. He was now breathing hard, and as the scent of her hair drifted over him, he had to fight for his own self control, knowing that he could not afford to rush this too quickly. He had never had her so close to him before.

Her body remained rigid, and he could feel her heart pounding. Her chest rose and fell with her breathing, and he reminded himself again, that he must not hurt her.

"Martin..." Whatever Celice had been about to say died in her throat as she felt his lips brush against her soft blonde hair, and her head began to spin, as if she'd had too much to drink. She struggled to control it, but then she felt his breath in her ear, ragged, uneven, and her vision blurred. Unable to deny the hot, liquid warmth spreading through her lower belly, she again tried to draw strength and determination from her mind, which was now screaming that if she did not get to her car very soon, it would be too late.

She gave a sudden, violent thrust forward and almost broke free of Martin's grip. Almost. Martin quickly pulled her in again, and this time he tightened his arms so that she could just barely draw her breath. Yet she continued to struggle and squirm, her body moving against his and increasing his excitement, which was already at a higher level than he'd ever known it to be.

"Don't, Celice," he murmured into her ear. "I promise, I'm not going to hurt you. But if you fight me, you're going to lose."

"You've lost your mind," she gasped, feeling hot anger at the remark about losing. She wasn't going to lose anything. Especially control of herself. The anger lent her strength, and she threw her arms out hard and escaped from his grasp. Pushing him away from her, ignoring the intense regret she felt at doing so, she tried to stumble toward the back door, in the kitchen.

It was a mistake. The hall led right past Martin's bedroom, and it was right in front of that open door that he caught her again, this time lifting her tiny frame right up off of her feet. A deafening crash of thunder filled the air, and Celice was so astonished that she forgot to struggle as Martin quickly carried her into his bedroom. When he gently laid her down on his bed, her mind woke up again, and she tried to make a quick move to get up, but not quick enough. Martin's body came down on hers, shutting out even the dim light, and she suddenly realised she could smell his clean male scent. At that, a sweet pain shot through her, and the voice in her mind began to dim. But it wasn't silenced yet, and Celice raised her arms to push Martin off of her. He caught both of her wrists and pinned her arms above her head.

He was much stronger than she was, and with her arms pinned over her head, she could not move them at all. All that she could do was squirm from the waist down, and that too was useless because of Martin's weight on her body. Lightning lit the room for a heartbeat, but Celice hardly noticed it, because of the buzzing in her mind. She had no idea what Martin was doing until suddenly he moved off of her completely, and she found she still could not move her arms. He had tied her wrists to the headboard.

"No," she whispered, unable to believe that she was trapped, unable to believe that she had even allowed this to happen at all.

But there was no mistaking the Yes behind her No, and Martin stood and looked at her. Her body, spread out on his bed and now his to take and to pleasure, excited him almost to the point of pain. But when he looked at her face, his heart melted. She wore an expression of of shame and defeat, and he could not bear that. He had to erase that shame, because it would deny her the pleasure he wanted to give.

He reached out and touched her face, and she looked surprised by the gentleness of his touch. "I promise again," he said, "I am not going to hurt you, Celice. You have to trust me."

"Why?" she demanded weakly. "Why are you doing this?"

The only answer he could come up with was, "Because we both wanted it."

Celice's mind loudly denied that, but she could not bring herself to say anything, because she no longer trusted her mind. She was horribly confused by the intense feelings raging through her body, and she felt that her mind had abandoned her.

Martin's gaze ran over her body, and he said, "You're so beautiful. Do you realise that?"

She was completely shocked by his remark. No one had ever said anything like that to her before, and she would never have believed it before. But Martin's words and tone of voice were too open and honest to deny. But she was still angry, angry at herself, angry that she had been defeated, and she still did not want to accept it. She began to twist her arms, trying to free herself of the ropes binding her wrists.

Martin saw it, and knew that he didn't have much time. He had no idea how good his knots were, but Celice had extraordinarily small hands and wrists. Given enough time, she could probably work herself free. He had to lead her into her passions before that happened.

He quickly moved over her again, placing his hands on her shoulders and starting to explore her body with them. Lightly, he touched her throat, her upper chest, and slowly, sensually, covered her breasts with both of his hands. Celice sucked in her breath as he massaged them, feeling her nipples standing out even through her shirt and her bra. He ran his thumbs over them and felt her body jerk. For a moment he forgot that he was trying to be careful. He gripped each side of her shirt in his fists and ripped it open, the buttons popping, revealing her creamy white breasts, spilling into her lace bra. Again, he took them into his hands, this time lightly pinching her nipples. Celice's struggles had weakened but not stopped.

Now came the risky part, a part he had planned. It was out of the ordinary and he knew it would scare her at first, but it had a certain exotic flair to it that he could not resist. He reached over to the bedside table and pulled out the knife he had hidden beneath a book.

When Celice saw the knife, she froze again. "Oh, my God," she whispered, staring at the shining blade, not at Martin.

Martin reached out and turned her face so that she saw only his eyes. "Trust me," he murmured again.

Carefully and quickly, he used the knife to cut her bra off of her, quickly dropping both the bra and knife to the floor. Celice relaxed, but only for a second, once she realised that she was now half naked. Cool air rushed over her already erect nipples, and in spite of herself, the heat in her belly had intensified, creating a heat further down in her most secret place. She had never felt so completely exposed to anyone, and each time she met Martin's eyes, seeing the naked desire in them, her heart pounded harder. So little of her self control was left that she felt even more panic than she had before. She squeezed her eyes closed, so as not to see him, and twisted and pulled at the ties, praying she could get loose before he touched her again, before it was truly too late.

Fire shot through Celice's body when she felt Martin's mouth cover her nipple, the tongue circling and stabbing at it. Incredible waves of sensation whirled through her body, electrifying her nerves, and signaling the beginning of the end of her battle to deny her own longings. When Martin sucked gently, first one nipple, then the other, she could feel wetness start to soak her panties, her clit swelling up and aching.

Martin too felt the change in her body. Her movements were softer now, and her legs were even beginning to spread open to invite him in. She made small noises of desire, and he was sure she was not even aware that she made them. He ran his hands over her exposed breasts again, loving the softness of her skin, and then he moved up until he face was only inches from hers.

He stared into her eyes and his blood began to sing. Gone was the cool distance he had always before seen, replaced now by a warmth that darkened the green to rich emerald, almost to black. Her eyes shone. She wanted him. There was no longer any doubt about that, and they both knew it.

"Celice," he said softly, and when her lips parted to answer, he swiftly took them with his own. Hesitantly he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Celice did not reject it, in fact, she sucked on his tongue, making him moan and deepen the kiss. He tasted the sweetness of her mouth hungrily, and her response was becoming more passionate, making him slide his arms under her and pull her closer to him. He pushed his groin into hers, wanting her to feel the hardness between his legs and know what she was doing to him. She had a power here too, and was not completely helpless. Celice raised her hips to meet his, and a jolt of sweet pain shot through him. He shed his shirt and met her naked breasts with his chest, shivering at the feel of her hard nipples crushed against his skin.

He trailed a kiss from her mouth down the side of her face, heading for her neck.

To his surprise, Celice suddenly began to struggle again, trying to turn her head and prevent him access to her neck. In a flash Martin realised he had discovered her sexual weakness. Using just enough force, he made her turn her head, and when her neck was exposed he showed no mercy. He drove his teeth into her neck, pressing his hot tongue against the soft, fragrant flesh.

"Oh, God!" Celice cried, and as Martin savagely devoured her neck, she finally gave up the battle, and felt immense relief at doing so. Martin, seeming to sense her surrender, let his own animal passion flow free. He ran his hands down her body, hard, until one palm was pressed against the crotch of her jeans. Even through the thick denim, the heat below was intensely felt. Celice jerked beneath him, and he took her earlobe into his mouth, distracting her from his unsnapping her jeans and pulling them open.

"Turn me loose, Martin," Celice hissed in a faint whisper.

"Not yet," he replied. "You're not ready."

He pulled away from her and within seconds had relieved her of her jeans. She wore a pair of white lace panties, and even in the dim light he could see the crotch of them soaked with her desire. This was too much, and he took hold of them and tore them off of her. When he did, Celice moaned, feeling her dripping mound exposed to him. She had to bite her lip to keep from screaming when she felt his fingers slide into her slit and stroke her hot, throbbing clit, so lightly that she could just feel it. She pulled at the ties holding her, wanting her arms free, wanting to touch him.

Martin slid one finger into her, and her whole body arched off of the bed. She tried hard to bear the exquisite pain that was flowing through her. Her strong muscles tightened around his finger, and Martin knew he couldn't wait any longer.

He pressed his tongue into her clit, heard her gasp and then groan. He licked her sex greedily, and as he did so he shed his own jeans and shorts, feeling his aching cock spring free, the tip wet with his own need. He moved up to kiss her again, and she could taste her own juices on his tongue. Unable to stop herself, she sucked on his tongue again. She felt his naked body covering hers, could feel his hot and pulsing cock against her lower belly. She wanted nothing now except him inside of her.

"God, Martin, turn me loose," she said, almost in a growl.

"All right," he consented.

When he freed her hands, she immediately began to touch him. Martin moaned and tried to lie still, knowing that she needed to do this, she'd been tied up for so long. Her hands roamed his back, his chest, his ass, and finally, his cock. He bit his lip and groaned again as her fingers gently explored his tool, stroking the tip where it was sensitive, noting his reaction. In a quick, unexpected move, she suddenly thrust her tongue into his ear, and he gasped. His cock slipped down into the wet of her slit, and Martin quickly guided it to her entrance and slammed hard into her.