Friendly Neighbor

Justine's breath caught at his bold touch, feeling herself responding to the confident way he was handling her body. She kept her tone tart, however, as she replied, "If you were just going to paw through my purse, why did you bother to ask, /sir/?"

Terry chuckled, his fingers suddenly giving her nipples a hard twist, forcing her to press her palms onto the counter to keep from winding up on her knees again. "Fair point, 'Lisa'," he said, and she could hear the quotation marks as he said it. "I suppose it's a good enough name for now—it's not like you're going to have much time to talk." And with that he released her breasts and scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he turned and carried her back out to the living room.

Justine shivered in trepidation—and arousal. She felt how helpless she was in his powerful arms; how little it seemed to strain him to pick her up and carry her off on a whim. She enjoyed being with people who could not only overpower her but do it easily; to be with someone able to physically dominate her into doing whatever they wished. Mark had been wirier than Terry, but he had also been /strong/, and she'd been thrown over his shoulder more than once. It seemed Terry was in the same weight class, and Justine couldn't help responding to that discovery. She just hoped he didn't realize it.

Terry carried her to the sofa and lowered himself down, with Justine winding up sprawled across his lap. He casually took her wrists in his left hand and pinned them above her head, giving his right free access to the rest of her. He started playing with her breasts again, and she blushed when her nipples hardened at his attention—she couldn't blame it on the cold this time.

"Sorry you took the deal yet?" he asked teasingly, slowly pulling a nipple taut.

Justine winced but responded, "No sir—I'm glad I'm not still out there. But this isn't how I expected my evening to go."

Terry smiled, his hand slowly tracing her curves and then moving down her body, rubbing circles on her belly. "No? You were dressed like that so you and Mark could...hang out? Watch a movie? Was your top undone because they keep the heat turned up so high over there?"

Justine squirmed at the almost-ticklish sensation—and at how her pussy was responding to his hand moving closer to it. She pressed her legs firmly closed, and answered, "No sir, that's not what I meant—I expected to get fucked tonight. By Mark. That's why I dressed so..." she closed her mouth before she could finish the sentence.

Terry's eyes bored into her own as his hand moved lower, and she had a sinking feeling he was reading her way too easily. "Sexy? Slutty? Easy? Is that how you were dressed...Lisa?" His hand was lower now, just circling her mound, and she half-regretted taking the time to shave herself smooth for the evening.

"Yes sir, that," she whispered. "I wanted to be all that so when Mark saw me, he would want to fuck me."

Terry nodded, his hand leaving her body for a moment to push between her legs, making her cry out as he forced them apart, not stopping until she was totally exposed. When he returned to stroking her body she tried to close them again, only to stop when she felt his grip on her wrists tighten in warning. With a whimper she relaxed her legs, keeping them spread for him.

"Good girl," he murmured at her acquiescence. "I happened to see you two come in, by the way—you were both dressed for a night out, and I bet I know what club you were at before you came here. What do you think the other men who saw you tonight wanted to do to you, hmm?"

His fingers slid down both sides of her pussy, spreading her lips, and Justine felt herself trembling in fear and arousal. She remembered the looks on the faces of the men who had watched her as she'd danced at the club, and whispered, "They wanted to fuck me too, sir."

"And what do you think I wanted to do when I saw you outside, cuffed and half naked, a helpless slut abandoned by her thoughtless lover?"

A fingertip brushed across her outer lips, causing her body to jerk, trapped under his hands, and she whimpered, "To fuck me, sir."

Terry made a low sound of approval as he brought his hand up, sniffing the finger that had gotten just a hint of her musky scent. He looked down at her, and there was nothing but hunger in his eyes. He brought his hand down, covering her whole mound, grinding against it with a circular motion as he said, "You know what's going to happen to you tonight." Not asking, simply stating fact.

"Yes sir," she breathed, her heart pounding.

"You knew when you accepted my deal, didn't you."

Even though she knew it wasn't a question she felt compelled to respond. "Yes sir," she panted as he ground against her clit. "I knew sir, I knew you'd fuck me."

He suddenly thrust two fingers into her pussy, growling in satisfaction as she cried out. "And yet you agreed anyway, didn't you," he continued relentlessly. "When Mark left you out there, you agreed to fuck the first cock that came along, you desperate little slut."

Justine felt humiliated at how he put it, wanting to protest, wanting to say that wasn't how it had happened, but his thumb was rubbing her clit as he drove his fingers inside her, and she just couldn't muster the defiance. "Yes sir," she sobbed, writhing. "I knew sir, I knew what you'd do and I went with you anyway, sir!"

"Do you think he can hear you?" Terry asked, and Justine groaned as he pushed his fingers all the way inside and held them there. "This room shares a wall with their apartment--do you think Mark can hear how turned on you are right now as another man fills your slutty pussy?"

Justine gave a guttural moan, unable to form a response, raising her head just enough to stare at the wall, picturing Mark hearing her cries, hearing how aroused she was despite being with a man she'd just met—just like she'd been when she'd met him. Her mind reeled and she let herself fall back, feeling filthy and turned on and overwhelmed. All she wanted at that moment was to be fucked so hard that she couldn't think anymore.

As if reading her mind, Terry started moving his fingers again, his other hand pressing her wrists down into the cushions as her body arched in response, her voice crying out in need, her legs spread wide, her whole body begging him to use her. He sped up his movements until his arm was a piston, pumping her as fast as he could while she twisted, stretched across him. After a few minutes he slowed down, adding a third finger and fucking her with long slow thrusts, making her groan at feeling so full. Then he shoved his fingers in deep and left them there while he used his thumb to stroke her clit again, bringing her close, before starting all over, alternating between fast and slow, pounding and stimulating, until she was going out of her mind with sensation, incoherent sounds coming from her mouth, unable to care anymore if anyone else could hear.

She lost track of time, giving herself over to his hands with total abandon. As she felt him force her closer and closer to an orgasm, the sounds she made became more desperate. And when he finally pushed her over the edge, he had to clamp a hand over her mouth when she started to scream, her whole body shaking, overwhelmed and needing release. The fact that all of this was happening in the lap of a stranger, that she was cumming so hard for someone who wasn't giving her a choice but to submit, made it all the more intense. Her hands grabbed at his wrist as she bucked and writhed, muffled sounds coming from beneath his palm, spasms driving all other thought from her as she surrendered to the moment—and to him.

At long last she subsided, arms falling to her sides, looking up at him in a daze. Terry smiled smugly down at her, fingers stroking her brow as she caught her breath. "I guess you needed that, hmm slut?"

Justine groaned and covered her face with her hands, trying to hide from what she'd done even as aftershocks made her legs twitch.

Terry chuckled, gently but firmly pulling her arms above her head again. "Now now, no hiding," he chided her. "You made so much noise the whole building probably knows what kind of girl you are at this point. And Mark certainly knows what he's missing. I wonder if he ever heard you cum this loudly before."

Justine blushed, turning her face away in humiliation. "It's not a contest," she mumbled, shivering as his other hand started playing with her breasts again. "He's made me cum plenty of times, or I wouldn't still be seeing him, sir." She was a little dismayed at how naturally the honorific came now, and wondered just how badly he'd gotten into her head.

Terry smiled, watching her start to struggle as he applied gentle pressure to one of her nipples. "Fair enough, slut. I do wonder if you'll ever come back here though, once I let you go. What do you think—will I see you around the neighborhood again?"

Justine blinked, and managed to summon a little bit of energy to sass, "That wouldn't be a very good idea for me, now would it? Sir."

Terry laughed, his eyes gleaming. "Yeah, that's what I thought. I guess I better take advantage while I can, then." And before she could fully process that, he flipped her over, and pinned her wrists behind her back. A moment later she felt the cuffs go back around them, making her cry out in belated protest.

Then she was on her knees between his spread legs, watching him open his jeans. "The way I figure it, even if Jo hadn't come home when she did, he would have only had about an hour—maybe two—with you tonight," Terry said, wrapping a hand around Justine's head and pulling her reluctant mouth back towards his shaft. "I don't know how long you two have been seeing each other, but I imagine your encounters don't get to last very long, what with the risk of discovery and all." Realizing resistance was pointless, Justine finally relented and relaxed in his grip, opening her mouth and taking his cock between her lips, looking up at him as he moved her up and down his shaft. "Christ, your mouth feels good—I bet Mark kept you on your knees a lot," Terry murmured making Justine blush. "What I'm trying to say is, I hope you didn't plan on getting home anytime soon, because I don't have anywhere to be until tomorrow, and no-one is walking unexpectedly through the front door here."

Justine groaned—at his words, and at finding herself in a position very similar to where she'd been before Mark's wife had shown up. And, she reflected, as she felt her head lifted and lowered on his cock, while she'd enjoyed the brief-but-passionate encounters with Mark, she had usually wound up using her dildo afterwards, eliciting several more orgasms as she'd fantasized about what he had—and hadn't—done to her. Maybe there was a silver lining to her current predicament, she mused—maybe Terry could leave her worn out and spent, if she went along with...everything.

But then again, talk was cheap and, she reminded herself, Terry was a stranger abusing her vulnerability, not a lover she had picked out. Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at him, and she started to take control of her movements, going from a reluctant to active participant. She focused on the tip of his shaft and watched in satisfaction as his eyes rolled back, /his/ breathing became labored for a change. Maybe if she made him cum right away, she thought, he'd let her go, and this crazy evening would end with only minor humiliation.

After several minutes of Justine's oral A-game, Terry gave a guttural moan and pulled her head back, grabbing his cock and rapidly jerking it, grunting as he sprayed streams of cum all over her proffered chest. Justine panted as she felt him paint her, unable to help feeling pleased at making him cum so forcefully, and letting herself enjoy the feeling of being marked by a man who had used her so effectively. He wasn't all bad, she thought, seeing his face slacken as his orgasm subsided—he was just kind of a control freak. And at least he'd made her cum. When Terry pulled her head back down, she contentedly worked on cleaning his cock, expecting to feel him soften in her mouth, and for her evening to come to an early end despite his earlier promises.

Only...he didn't seem to be getting soft. While he wasn't as hard as he had been, he was still mostly erect—and as she sucked him clean, she could feel him swelling to his full length again. She looked up at him, startled, and saw that smug look back in his eyes as he murmured, "I told you, slut—you're in for a long night."

Her eyes widened as he pulled her off his shaft and stood up, and then she yelped as he stepped around her, pushing her forward so she fell face first onto the sofa, knees on the floor, ass in the air, hands still helplessly cuffed behind her back. She wriggled and turned her head so she could look back at him as he knelt behind her, shakily pleading, "Wait wait wait—let's talk about th—ahhh!"

Grabbing her hips, he filled her with a single thrust, making her eyes close in humiliation as they both felt how easily he had slid inside, despite her protests. She opened her eyes when she felt him pause, his fingers stroking her hips. When he saw he had her attention, he murmured, "I figured you'd already waited too long for this, slut—we both know getting cock in your pussy is why you're here tonight." He reached out and wrapped a hand in her short hair, yanking her head back as he added, "And I told you to call me 'sir'."

Terry released her hair and she braced herself as he began to pound her. Like he'd done with his fingers, he started fast, taking advantage of her wetness to jackhammer her pussy, pounding her until she thought she was going to pass out or go mad. Just when she was about to beg for mercy he slowed down, filling her to the hilt in a long, slow thrust, and then leaving her practically empty as he pulled back, before starting again. It was a slow, deliberate assault, and she found the alternating sensations of being full and empty driving her almost as crazy as the pounding had.

After several minutes he thrust all the way inside her and held himself there, leaning forward, his hands reaching beneath her to crush her breasts against her chest. "Beg me to fuck you, slut," he ordered, his voice low, rumbling through her body where they were pressed together. "We both know you want it—beg this stranger to fuck your pussy like the cock hungry bitch in heat you are."

Justine groaned, responding powerfully to being at his mercy, but still trying to retain a scrap of control, if not dignity. "No...stop...you're making me do this. I was supposed to be Mark's slut, not yours."

Terry chuckled, straightening up behind her, his hands gliding up her body until he had ahold of her hips again. "Is that so? You don't want to be my slut? You don't want my cock? Let's test that..." Slowly he began pulling out of her, and despite herself she cried out at the sudden emptiness. He stopped when she could feel the head at her entrance, letting her feel his girth pressed against her, but not giving her a single inch inside.

He reached down with one hand, grasping his cock, and began rubbing it against her. "You want me to stop, little fucktoy? You want me to let you go home without any more cock? You want me to send you out into the cold with an empty pussy just like Mark did?"

Justine whimpered and bucked, unable to hide her craving for the cock pressed against her, and she felt her resistance give way in the face of her desperate need. "No sir," she pleaded," Please, give me your cock. I'm sorry for lying, please fill me up—don't send me away without it like he did, sir."

Terry made a sound of approval and shoved himself back inside her. "That's better, /Lisa/. And don't worry, I'll make sure you get plenty of cock before you're allowed to leave."

Justine sobbed, ashamed at her weakness, even as she pushed back against him. Before she could stop herself, she cried out, "It's Justine, sir—my name is Justine! Please fuck me sir, fuck me, fuck my whore cunt!"

Terry needed no further encouragement and did exactly that, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, never stopping. Justine made inarticulate sounds all the while, fucking back when he allowed, trying to stay upright when he pounded. After a while she heard his breathing change, and realized he was close to cumming. She felt a thrill of panic and managed to whimper, "Don't...cum...inside...please sir!"

If he heard her he didn't listen—if anything he fucked her harder, leaving her unable to do anything but take it, her body helpless against his assault. Suddenly he groaned and buried himself inside her, a hand pushing her head down into the cushion as he held her still. She felt his cock spasm, his hot cum shooting deep inside her, and closed her eyes with a moan, feeling herself sink even deeper into depravity, her pussy reflexively squeezing his shaft, milking every drop out of him and into her. Only when her pussy stopped squeezing and his cock stopped twitching did he slide out of her with a sigh of pleasure. A few moments later she felt the cuffs come off her wrists and she straightened up in a daze, rubbing her bruised skin, trying to find her outrage over what had just happened.

"Why did you—mm!" she started, but was interrupted by his hand back in her hair, holding her still as he shoved his cock back into her open mouth. She struggled for a moment, trying to push him away, but was quickly reminded that she just didn't have the strength to stop him from doing whatever he liked with her. Resignedly she stopped fighting and began to suck him clean, tasting herself as well as him. She managed a glare as she felt his cum dripping out of her pussy, and spitefully squeezed her muscles, trying to expel his seed, hoping she made a mess on his carpet.

If Terry noticed her act of rebellion he didn't respond to it, instead letting her suck for a minute longer before releasing her and dropping back onto the sofa with a happy sigh. "That was amazing...Justine."

Justine flushed at hearing him say her real name, unable to understand her earlier need to share it with him. "Whatever, sir," she muttered, wiping her mouth. "I'm going to go get cleaned up—you made a mess." She started to push herself to her feet, before quickly lowering herself back onto her knees—her head was still spinning and she wasn't ready to be upright just yet. She heard Terry chuckling behind her and got flustered, not wanting him to know he'd fucked her almost literally senseless. "Shut up," she said weakly, and began crawling for the bathroom with as much dignity as she could muster.

She was halfway across the room before she felt his hand on her ankle, pulling her back towards the living room—and him. With a cry of dismay Justine clawed at the carpet, trying to halt her progress, but was unable to stop his inexorable pull.

Terry let her go just long enough to grab her wrists, hauling her to her feet and spinning her around, her back to his chest, his hands roaming over her body, his arms holding her up as her knees buckled. She moaned, letting her head fall back, unable to fight her arousal at being manhandled—or at the feel of his hard cock rubbing against her. "God, you're not going to give me even a little rest, are you sir?"

Terry leaned down to nuzzle her ear, causing her to jerk. He made a disapproving sound at her response and wrapped a hand in her hair, holding her still as he alternated between licks and bites, working his way up her throat and jaw to her ear. "You're not here to rest." His licked her ear as his free other slid down to rub her pussy, adding, "And it's not like your pussy isn't ready for more, slut."

Justine sagged against his chest, closing her eyes as his fingers slid inside her, revealing that she was, indeed, still very wet—and not just from the cum that was still leaking out. Chuckling in triumph, Terry swung her into his arms, carrying her to the dining room table and laying her across it. She vaguely noticed it had its own very nice view of the lake before she was forced to pay attention to him nudging her legs apart, taking his place between them. Her breath caught as he grasped his shaft and began teasing her clit with the head. With a groan she gave in to the inevitable, pulling her legs up, grasping her ankles and holding herself spread open for him, aroused and ashamed at how easy she was being—but mostly just wanting to be filled again.