Ferall Shorts: Mr. Flynn

"Right or wrong, point is, you're stuck here. Don't really have much of a choice." I ignored him and hung his coat on the coat rack outside the door. Moments before I started to fix myself to refute his offer again, he said, "Plus your car is gone. And based on what I know, you live miles from here. So even if I were to help you back into town today, you'll have a hard time getting back home without a vehicle."

"What did you say?"

"I said your car is gon-"

"No. The part about you knowing where I live." Anger could be heard in my voice but the real emotion behind that was fear. Has this man been researching me? Mr. Flynn's lips curled into a wicked grin and my intuition warned me of impending doom. "You looked me up?!"

"What can I say, I find you fascinating." He said simply. Not interested in hearing another word, my hand found the door handle and yanked it open. Quick on his feet, Mr. Flynn moved behind me and shut the door with a swift effortless shove of one hand. The sudden slam forced me to jump and all my muscles stiffened. Sandwiched between him and the door he husked against my ear, "Come now that's not necessary. Where will you go? Is it such a burden to be with me?"

"Let me the fuck out of here." I growled.

"You know I hadn't planned it out this way." He said ignoring my demand. "Between the unexpected storm, the bridge, your car, I could've sworn there's a higher power working in my favor." He let out a low villainous laugh. I yanked at the door again only for him to shove it back. Closing the already constricted space between us, I found myself squished between what felt like a rock and a hard place in the literal sense. "That aside, let's not be foolish. Even if you were to walk out that door, you wouldn't last an hour in those conditions. Please, have a seat with me." Eagerness seemed to weigh heavily on his soft-spoken words. As if his patience with some internal struggle was wearing thin. My shoulders slumped and I let out a shaky exhale.

"What do you want?" I said. Trying my hardest to eliminate any remnants of fear from my voice. Mr. Flynn took a step back and gently grasped my forearm. Leading me back to the in-floor lounge seating, he sat me by the fire. Legs crossed at the knee, Mr. Flynn sat in the lone reading chair adjacent from me. He stayed silent for a moment. Eyes fixed on mine as he thought quietly to himself.

"It is no secret that I am a privileged man. Those privileges have awarded me access to things that satisfy my more exotic tastes-"

"Is there a point?" I intervened already sensing where this was going.

"My point is I have had many women. From heiresses to fortunes older than us both combined. To super models. Sugar babies and career women. And everything in between. But none like you. Hard working, resilient... Prideful. Daughter of a Marine. Former decorated soldier of this nation's Army with a number of deployments under her belt. Yet, there's an obvious gentleness there... A vulnerability, if you will." His voice trailed off and once again I felt exposed under his watchful eye. This seemed to bring a satisfied smile to his face. Silence remained my only reply as he continued to list off the sordid and private details of my present state. "All that hard work and sacrifice, for nothing. All the years you spent serving and for what? To struggle to make ends meet? Tell me, Ms. Jones, just how much student debt do you have? How many times have you barely made your rent?" He asked with a smirk.

"That's none of your goddamn business!" I forced the words through gnashed teeth. Body reacting without my better judgement I shot from my seat, fist clutched and muscles tense. The warrior I once was now bubbling to the surface as rage blinded me. Hate and anger have always been my weakness. Go enough years unprotected then ridiculed for the very things that made you strong enough to survive in this world, you learn to be nothing else. Nothing, but a warrior. And this mother fucker was one infraction away from a broken leg and a lesson as to why my fellow brother in arms once called me the Wolf Bitch.

"On the contrary, I think it is my business. A man like me does not earn his wealth through charity, but investment. And I am willing to invest in you. Stay with me this weekend to do with you as I please. And I not only pay off your debt, but also your car and any dollar amount you ask. Of course, within reason." The first full blown smile to spread across his face was by far the most frightening thing I ever seen. I could dodge literal bullets, embrace my father's wrath with no fear in my heart, yet this moment sent chills down my spine. Orange flames from the roaring fireplace cast shadows against his pale skin. At that moment I was certain I was in the presence of the Devil himself. Defiant in my delivery I said,

"I'm not for sale."

"Everything has a price. Even you, Miss." He stood slowly from his seat. "Besides what's one weekend of service to a life time of financial freedom? Seems like a win-win situation. And I promise, I am very skilled with my hands..." His fingers found the zipper to my coveralls and slowly began to unzip. "You will leave here beyond satisfied..." Unsure why my body wouldn't react in violence, I allow the top half of my coveralls to be peeled from my body. Beneath it, a thin white tank top covered in grime with a sports bra beneath that. I felt my body unwillingly relax as his curious fingers trailed my exposed mahogany skin. Finger tips trailed the indented scarred tissue on my shoulder and down to my tatted forearm. Both the scar and tattoo a remembrance of my final deployment. Then two hands moved to my waist. At its narrowest his large hands nearly enveloped my cinched middle. They were warm to the touch even with clothes acting as a barrier. He continued to test me further as his hand inched up my body until he reached my bust line. His eyes locked with mine as his thumb grazed a puckered nipple and I felt my entire body shiver. An involuntary airy whimper escaped my full lips. I caught a brief look of smugness appear on his face. In that instant I regained control and kneed him in the diaphragm. With a jerk he folded over.

"You're going to have to work harder than that, fucking pretty boy. I already told you, I'm not for fucking sale!" I sneered. Holding himself, Mr. Flynn fumbled backwards as a wheezy laugh came out of that smug face of his.

"Oh Ms. Jones..." He growled. "I knew I'd like you." Before I could think a hand clasped around my neck and my feet fumbled out of shock. Muscle memory took over and I managed to maneuver my way out of his vice grip. Moving to take out the knees first, I aimed low, hard and swift. The civilian part of me now loss to the sleeping soldier as our scuffle turned into an all-out sparring match. No matter how many hits I managed to land, Mr. Flynn remained unreactive as his sheer size and strength overwhelmed me. Hard labor makes for a hardened woman and small I am not. Yet this behemoth of a man whom to my knowledge, had no fighting skills to speak of, easily bested me by effortlessly lifting me from the ground as if I weighed nothing. He threw me over his shoulder. I screamed. I growled. I bit and even clawed him. Near unrecognizable, my mannerisms made me look and sound like a rabid little animal. Mocking laughter was the only response I could get as he carried me up a flight of steps.

"Get your fucking hands off me!" I roared. A hand slapped my ass so hard my ears rung. I let out small yip and his mocking laughter made my cheeks burn hot with embarrassment.

"Be silent. The theatrics are not necessary."

Thrown onto a pile of posh bedding I attempted to sit up and fight my way out. This proved to be a failure on my part as he shoved me back down. I could tell he was only using a fraction of his strength. And I didn't want to find out the extent of that strength either. Once again, I found myself pinned under the weight of him. A vascular hand collared my throat as he slowly crawled on top of me. Something in his eyes and the way he moved had changed. Graceful movements that bordered on elegance now looked more like a stalking apex predator sizing up their prey. With his legs straddling my smaller frame, he hovered over me as he stared. This deafening silence carried on for longer than I wanted. A breath of relief expelled from my lips when he finally spoke,

"I tell you what, Ms. Jones..." He leaned in closer. "We can play a little game. If you cum, within five minutes you're mine to play with as I please. If you don't, I will decline my request for a weekend of your servitude. And still honor my previous offer." Fighting proved futile the more I laid there with this crushing weight against my body coupled with the discomforting grip around my neck. I had little autonomy to myself at this point and the only option was to play his twisted game. A frustrated growl rattled in my throat before I forced myself to comply.

"Deal." Again, I saw that smile and I felt a shiver crawl up my spine. He planted a feathery kiss against my full lips.

"Good girl."

Stiff as a bored I lied there as he began to undress me gingerly. Naked and vulnerable, I lied there trying to ease my racing thoughts. For what felt like eons he just stared while he kneaded flesh with curious hands. Every visible scar on my skin he didn't hesitate to touch then leave a kiss upon.

"Who would dare tarnish something so beautiful..." He whispered against my skin before his lips wrapped around a hardened nipple. My back arched slightly and I swallowed the soft moan I nearly let escape. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed my body to have some kind of control. But the sensation of his teeth gently grazing the puckered nub, followed by his wet tongue flicking at my nipple made this a near impossible task. I opened my eyes and watched him move to the next nipple whilst his eyes stayed fixated on mine. This time he bit down a bit harder. Pinched between his teeth I could feel the tip of his tongue lap at my nipple with long circular strokes. I found myself squirming and looked to the nearby digital clock on his nightstand. A minute hadn't even past and here I was already writhing and feeling that familiar aching throb. A hand cradled my chin with enough firmness to keep my head still.

"Look at me." I heard him rasp. With great hesitance I did as requested as his free hand trailed down my body. His index finger flirted with my navel before creeping lower. A single finger slipped between the velvety pedals of my cunt that was now dripping with arousal. Finger tips grazed the surface of my clit and a subdued cry came out in a whimpering shudder. I hate myself. Mr. Flynn groaned between clinched teeth. Allowing another finger to gently grind against my throbbing sex.

"Fuck... What a fucking mess..." Now moving in circular motions, I could feel my body betray me. Gotta beat that fucking clock. I looked at the time again. Only two minutes and twelve seconds went by. I'm losing. His fingers are grinding into me now and I start to do the only thing I can think to do: Run. A feeble attempt to crawl away turned into him pinning me down by the neck. My hands grab hold of his large forearm as a means to pull him off. But my world goes quiet. The rhythmic stroking of my needy cunt feels too fucking good. And I find myself at the precipice of what I call the calm before the storm. That agonizing build up every woman knows. The only out is to fight it mentally. I close my eyes and try to think of things that will lure me back to reality. All my everyday stressors. Work. School. Money. Human interaction. Existing...

"Look. At. Me." I hear him command again and I instantly forget everything. My eyes barely flutter open and the sight in front of me destroys any fight I had left in me. Droplets of rain water seeps from his hair that is now draping over his face. He resembles some kind of animal as his fingers rub against my sex with more vigor. He looks lost to this like I'm about to be. A tongue licks at a tooth before a shaky breath flows from his lips. I can hear the sound of wet flesh fill these walls made of oak, plaster and stone. All of this is enough to drive me to the brink of insanity. The contrast of his pale fingers stroking against my deep brown skin nearly throwing me over the edge. Holding on by a thread I look at the clock again and see I am three minutes and forty-five seconds in. Maybe I can win this.

"I won't..." I hear myself whimper with a weak voice. "I won't fucking ... Do this... I...Can't..." Unsure of who I am trying to convince.

That fucking smile is on his face again and he changes his circular movements to long strokes. Strumming at my pussy like a skilled musician. "Fuck!" I hear myself cry out but it doesn't sound like me. More like the wails of a helpless little thing. A wounded small animal of sorts. My hands desperately try to push him off but he flattens his weight against me. Our lips, just a breath away as Mr. Flynn moves his hips in tune with his assaulting hand. The pressure becomes too much as I fight to keep myself from falling over the edge. "No..." I growl. "God Fuh-F-fucking damn it!"

Thirty seconds down.

"Oh sweet heart..." He hissed against my lips.

Twenty...

"You don't get it..."

Ten...

"You've already lost." He growls.

Then it washes over me like a tidal wave, nearly drowning me. My body begins to shudder with violent uncontrollable spasms and my hips grind against his hand like a desperate bitch in heat. My mouth gapes open but no sound comes out at first. Just labored breathing before noises I never thought I knew how to make erupts from me. A cross between a strangled cry and weakened sigh is the only way to describe the embarrassing noises that fled from my lips. My body falls limp against his bed as he mocks me with his laughter.

"I can only imagine..." He attempted to catch his breath before lifting his fingers to his lips. Evidence of my lust coated his hand and webbed between his fingers. " ...How much fun fucking you is going to be." Crawling off of me, he moves to sit himself in a large reading chair by the bedroom fireplace. I lie there, completely spent and confused. The fuck just happened here?

"Come." He says simply with a casual come hither gesture of his still dripping wet finger. I nearly comply. Instincts wish to have me crawl on my hands and knees towards him and position myself between his legs. To test my limit and see how deep I can get that girthy shaft down my hungry slut throat. To serve without question in hopes to be rewarded with more of his delectably sick and twisted mind. Curious to know how many times he'll make me cum and how he'll go about doing it. If he's as merciless as I hope he is. God, let him be the beast I need him to be. The sleeping monster within me needs it. Then I come back to my senses and attempt to run out the door. I barely make it half way across the room as he didn't completely remove my coveralls. The damn thing remained bunched around my ankles and after a few awkward steps, with my already weakened knees, I flop hard against the wood floors. To my shock he springs from his seat, concern written all over that pretty face. Then a slight chuckle after seeing the only thing on me that's bruised is my ego. He saunters over and grabs me by a flailing leg.

"I gotta say, I admire you. All the others I've made such offers to usually fold within minutes. Money does indeed talk. But you..." His hand found its way around my neck again. Forcing me to look him in those soul piercing eyes. Something in them speaks to a silent rage and a near desperate longing I have yet to see in another man. I have to get the fuck out of here. Away from this man. He suddenly yanks my coveralls from around my feet with one fluid motion taking my loosely laced boots with it.

"You're a challenge. I appreciate you forcing me to work for something for a change. A real man grows tired of not having something to fight for. To earn. To conquer. Always having people handing him shit. Kissing his ass..." He says, still wearing a smile yet I easily sensed a bitterness riding on his words. Almost as if he wasn't talking to just me, but someone else. Someone he resented. He stood upright and forced me to my feet by the neck. To my shock, he released me with a slight shove. I stumble backwards, naked and confused. Mr. Flynn's tongue laps at his lips before he growls with a wicked grin,

"Run."

Without a second thought I scurry away like a wounded animal with shaky stilts for legs. I wander almost aimlessly trying to find my way out of this unfamiliar lodge cabin with too many rooms and stairs. That orgasm must've been one for the ages because I could hardly hold myself up as I run down the main stairwell. I slip and fall down the last few steps and quickly regain my footing. Something of a metallic slam echoes through the house and all the lighting in the estate shuts off. Now all I am left with is darkness. I instantly remember where the kitchen is and grab a knife before darting into the backyard. The rain pounded against the greenery and vast lake encapsulating his estate. I'm not a strong swimmer. I remind myself and run into the tree line. It is cold, the down poor above me washes out the world before me and I can hardly see. I turn to my military training for guidance. Nothing in all my years in the Army has prepared me for this. But I remind myself to stay calm under pressure and rest by a nearby tree. Its branches partially shield me from the rain. Swiping the wild coils hanging down my face I look around for an escape route, a hiding place or a plan. Nothing but trees and lake stretching on for acres can be seen. I am without clothing and armed with a single kitchen knife that, based on my extensive knowledge of all weaponry, wouldn't hold up. I can tell the tang of the blade doesn't reach all the way through the handle. A flaw that would affect its use out here.

Then I hear a twig snap behind me and I hold in my breath. I hold the knife in my fist the way my father taught me. With the razor's edge facing out. I crouch down behind the tree and still my racing heart as another branch snaps under the weight of something. Or someone. I close my eyes and listen close to the sound of crunching twigs, muddied dirt and... Growling? A low quiet growl close enough to be heard over the loud pouring rain. My skin is suddenly hit with a warm gust of breath hitting the back of my neck. I let out a war cry and slash my blade at the intended target. Proving to be much faster than expected, he evades my assault with equally skilled maneuvers and staples the knife into the thick tree bark. Another battle begins and this time I fight hard with no restraint. A right hook and a thunderous jab both landed with ease. Yet, no matter how many hits I land this man remains unhindered. Spitting the blood from his lip before chuckling to himself. As if nothing I do phases him and he somehow enjoyed this vicious assault on his person. Mr. Flynn wraps a large hand in my tangled natural locks and presses my back against the rough tree.

"Shush, little cub..." He coos. But nothing in his tone is soothing or gentle. His voice is rasped and low. Anger lingered somewhere beneath the surface. My bare feet slip against the muddy terrain. The only thing keeping me upright is him pinning me against the bark scratching against my bare skin. An ache in my hips hits me when he yanks my legs open. Hooking each one over his python sized arms as he grabs hold of the tree behind me for leverage. Weariness has already claimed every muscle and I am too tired to fight. Between the work week, warring with this beast in masculine form and failing multiple times at that, I simply can't pummel my way out of this one. Flaccid grows my limbs until I feel the head of his cock lick at the slick lips of my sex.