Forcible Seduction

I should have made two trips, Gabby chides herself, as she struggles to pull the housekey back out of the front door lock without putting down either of the large tangle of plastic grocery bags she grips in either hand. Once she finally manages to free her key, she guides the door backwards with her heel to shut it and takes a step towards the kitchen table. The heavy wooden door immediately slams into her backside as if some terrible storm has spontaneously erupted outside. She can feel someone behind her forcing their way inside, and the grocery bags slide from her fingertips, completely forgotten.

A large hand clamps over her mouth before she can turn her head back, and she feels herself lifted off the floor until she is standing tippy-toed in her own foyer. She sees that the cute little pink skirt, the one she had dared wear only once before in the year and a half since she had bought it, is riding up high on her pale thighs, as her left arm is roughly pulled behind her and pinned against the small of her back.

"You are not going to make a sound. Do you understand?" The low voice is tinged with some accent she can't place. The man sounds as calm as if he is asking her for the time.

Gabby nods her head furiously.

"That's my good girl. I'm going to turn you around, and you are going to close this door and lock it. Do you understand?"

She hasn't stopped nodding since he began speaking to her. After a brief pause, she feels her body swung around as if she were a small child, any notion of resistance draining from her at the man's shocking display of strength. He holds her completely off the ground, almost perpendicular to the floor, and with her free right hand, she reaches out through the door frame, grabs the doorknob, and pulls the door shut. She turns the manual lock on the knob, then reaches for the deadbolt beside it and twists the latch until she hears the bolt lock into place. She feels herself guided downwards with a surprising gentleness, as if in the arms of an exceptionally skilled dancer, until her feet are back on the ground. The hand covering her mouth is removed, her pinned arm released. Then she feels the weight of his hands on her shoulders, turning her around to face him.

She glimpses enough to know he wears no mask, and she squeezes her eyes shut, certain that to see this man's face will mean her death.

She can hear him laughing easily as she stands there before him, tears spilling from the corners of her tightly shut eyes.

"Oh my!" he said. "And here I was, thinking you were maybe going to be some kind of bad-ass hero-woman!"

His fingers on her face now, leisurely exploring her cheeks and lips, then softly brushing away the tears from her closed eyes.

"But that's not you, is it? No, no, I don't think so, now. That's good."

He brushes her hair back from her face.

"Because I think maybe a bad-ass hero woman, she might not like all of the things that we are going to be doing here in your house tonight. And she would probably do something stupid, you know?" His voice sounded genuinely sad. "Something that would get her killed."

She can feel him slowly unbuttoning her blouse, cursing herself. She hardly EVER went out without a bra! But she'd been in some sort of weird, crazy mood this morning, feeling sexy for a change, and just a little bit reckless.

"Now, a timid little girl though... she would probably just do exactly what she was told, I'm thinking. And so I bet, that *she* would walk out of all of this, just fine and dandy! Right? So which one is it?"

She can feel his face close to hers. His breath smells of cigarettes, and maybe faintly of mint? She thinks she also detects a hint of cologne. Her blouse hangs open now, down to her navel, but his calloused fingertips remain JUST inside the edge of the fabric, as if awaiting an invitation.

"Look at me."

"Please...no. I-I don't need to see you."

"Look at me."

She opens her eyes just a crack, her tears rendering him blurry and indistinct. She can see though that he has long dark hair, brown, weathered skin, a full mustache. Latino? Maybe Mediterranean? He gently wipes her tears away with his thumb. "Open your eyes all the way," he orders. "And look at me."

She does. He is wearing a sleeveless maroon t-shirt and is lean with ropy, muscled arms. He smiles at her, wide enough that she can see he is missing one of his back teeth, something that would otherwise be unnoticeable.

"Well, look at how pretty you are!" His fingers hover along the borders of her gaping blouse, undulating like floating sea anemones that might at first seem harmless, but are in fact lethal. His dark eyes bore into hers, and she knows with bone-deep certainty that she must not lie to this man, as he will be able to see if she is not speaking the truth. "So. Are you one of those bad-ass hero women, or are you just a timid little girl?"

"I'm just a timid little girl," Gabby answers before he can even finish asking the question, struggling to answer clearly in her tear-soaked, quivering voice.

"You are, aren't you?" he smiles at her, slipping both hands all the way inside her blouse now and massaging her naked breasts.

"Unh," she breathes, turning her face down and away from him, as he casually strokes and pinches her nipples, helplessly feeling them harden into stiff bullets beneath his rough fingers. He seems to be searching her face with equal parts delight and amusement. "Why, you're just as meek as a little lamb."

He bends down to kiss her. Gabby's opens her mouth wide for him, once again the good little girl who always eagerly and immediately answered "ahhhhh" when commanded to by the doctor. She closes her eyes, arching her back as her boobs are completely uncovered, the blouse falling away from her shoulders like discarded wrapping paper. She can smell the residual stink of her own fear and feels a bitter shame that she tries her best to push from her thoughts, as she feels her tongue intertwine with his in an intricate dance of total surrender, and her own shy exploration.

"Aren't you? Aren't you my meek little lamb?"

"Yes," she breathes.

"Yes, what?"

"Uh...UNH!" She thrusts her chest forward, as he cruelly pinches her engorged nipples. "Yes, sir! Yes, sir! I'm just as meek as a little lamb."

"And what does a little lamb say?"

"I-I don't know. OW-HOW! Ple-HEASE! SIR!"

"You don't know? You never went to school? Come, now. What is it that my meek little lamb likes to say?"

"Baaaaa?" she offers.

"Of course! That wasn't so hard, was it? You silly little thing!" He gently knocks her on the forehead as he smiles at her. "A little louder for me."

"B-BAAAAAA!" Suddenly she is sobbing uncontrollably, her bared breasts quavering rhythmically as her entire chest becomes racked with sobs. "BAAAH! Buh buh-b-b-buh-BaaAAAAHH!"

"THERE'S my timid little girl! Now lift your skirt up."

"Y-yes, sir." She gathers the flimsy material and holds it up around her hips, allowing the stranger to inspect the somehow childish-looking pair of plain white panties she had earlier today chosen for herself.

Gabby closes her eyes as he reaches for her waist, her flesh electric underneath his fingertips as they lazily spider up and down her bare hips. She gasps as her underpants are suddenly ripped downwards, her thighs squeezing together reflexively with a sharp, familiar pang of childhood dread that no amount of self-proclaimed "adulthood" had never been able to truly banish: I'm going to get a *spanking!!*"

He has her step out of them, then tosses her panties aside, guiding her to the floor as he slides his hand between her legs. He slaps impatiently at her inner thighs, spurring her to open more quickly for him. The stranger enters her with his fingers and begins to work them with obvious expertise, the loud sploshy sounds announcing undeniably to them both that she is soaking wet.

She is moaning now, lost in pleasure, bucking and arching her back like a feral cat. When his fingers abruptly exit her, she reaches up for his weathered face, struggling to deliver to him little furtive kisses of supplication. He shakes his head, laughing to himself as he unhurriedly undresses Then he reaches down and hooks his thumbs underneath her legs, forcing them back until her knees are pinned to the floor alongside her face. She lies there splayed out for him like some odd creature captured and secured inside a scientist's laboratory, helplessly awaiting whatever manner of inspection and experimentation he might have in store for her.

The reality of his cock overwhelms her, as if she had never known a man before. "Ohhh! UNNNNHH!"

As he begins to thrust, she struggles to control her breathing, fighting back panic. GOD! Is THIS what sex was supposed to feel like?! The intensity, while thrilling, also seems foreign and frightening to her. And the pressure of it seems just to keep building and building.

"Oh, please! Please. Ple-he-heeease!"

Some dim corner of Gabby's mind registers amazement at how unreservedly she is begging this terrible man, who has so quickly and easily and easily taken possession of her. And also, of course, at the fact that they both know that she is not begging him to stop. Her rhythmic gasps seem to merge with the sensation, as if her body has become a machine designed only to produce pleasure, that this man is now very calmly and proficiently operating: "UH! UH! UH! UH! UH! OH! OH! OHHH!

When her climax comes, it is like nothing else she has ever known, though in its attempt to process the flood of stimuli, her mind conjures the heart-dropping rush of a roller-coaster's rapid descent:

"UHHHHNNNHHHH!"

After, she buries her face in his shoulder, and they lie together for a few minutes before he begins to quietly issue instructions. Does she have a spare key in the house? Yes, sir. Go get it and bring it to me. Yes, sir. When she returns, he reaches for his clothing and places the key into the front pocket of his pants. She is not to change her locks. Yes, sir, I understand. There are to be no other men allowed into her bed, and every night she will sleep wearing only a plain white t-shirt—no bra, and no panties. Yes, sir. He may not visit her often, he tells her, but when he does, he wants and expects unfettered access to her naked body. Yes, sir. Of course, sir. He sits up, but before he can stand, she scurries into his lap, straddling him and kissing him slowly and deeply. He cups her breasts in his hands, then lets them stray to lightly stroke her bare back and smooth buttocks. He shakes his head no when she tries to mount him, but when he stands up and she kneels before him, guiding his penis into her open mouth, he allows it. Afterwards, once he has quietly slipped out the door he had earlier forced his way through, she sits and softly cries, trying to memorize the taste of him, the way that his naked body felt against hers.