Goodnight Grace

She scrambled to her feet. In a few more steps he would be upon her. Yet she froze, teetering on the edge between fear and fascination. He was almost upon her when instinct took over. She bolted towards the door but her limbs were still heavy and her mind sluggish. He easily closed the distance between them. With one arm, he caught her by the waist, pulling her off balance. Her wobbly legs crumpled beneath her and they both tumbled to the floor. The air left her lungs as he came down hard on top of her.

Using his body as a restraining devise, he pinned her firmly against the floorboards. Face to face, she continued to squirm and gasp underneath him but it wasn't doing much good. The more she twisted, the tighter he held her. Good Lord, he is so warm and solid and hard in all the right places. Despite her fear something about the sensation of Troy's weight pressing down on her naked flesh gave her an oddly secure feeling.

"Shhhh," He spoke as if he were taming a skittish mare. The alluring scent of brandy and sandalwood, his scent, wafted over her, calming her further.

Grace stilled and sagged breathlessly under Troy. All thoughts of resistance were momentarily forgotten. She looked up at her captor. He was regarding her closely, one eyebrow cocked in an impish arch.

"Why don't you ask me? I'm sure you're burning with curiosity."

"What happened while I was-" She stumbled over the words, unsure if she really wanted to know.

"While you were in the land of nod?" He suggested with a provocative smirk. "I can give you a firsthand account since I was watching the events quite closely. Let's see, how shall I start? Once upon a time there was a fair maiden- No, that's far too flowery for the circumstances. How about 'it was a dark and stormy night'- No, that's not strictly true seeing as it is actually a lovely evening. I think we'd better stick with the unvarnished facts. The naked truth, if you will." He swept a suggestive gaze over Grace's nude form, chuckling softly as she vainly tried to hide her charms from his view.

"So, you'll forgive me if I get straight to the thrust of our story. Once you'd given up the good fight and sagged into Ollie's arms he deposited you rather unceremoniously onto the floor. Ollie can be somewhat ungentlemanly, as you may know. You slumped over senseless and unmoving while he roughly stripped you of your dress and began appreciating the lovely curves of your body with his crude hands. You were nothing but a limp and inviting ragdoll when he lifted you over him and pressed you down on to his rather monstrous appendage. Still you did not stir as he speared your body down onto his cock again and again and again. You didn't even make a sound when he tore your innocence to pieces with his battering ram. Alas, you are a maiden no more."

Grace turned away. She fought against Troy's hold, struggling to escape the vulgar picture his words were painting. Hot shame burned away any lingering curiosity. Yet he easily subdued her, trapping her face in his hands, forcing her to hear the rest of his lurid tale.

"At first I suspected you might be frigid. That would have been such a pity. But by and by you began to respond to ol' Ollie's attentions. Soft mewling whimpers spilling from your pouty lips and gradually converted to full throated moans. Even in its drugged stupor your body quivered and writhed on his cock, hips rocking in a greedy pursuit for more. Eventually your eyelids began to flutter. For a moment, I thought the effects of the chloroform were wearing off sooner than expected. That is until your eyes rolled up into your head and you shook like the platform at Charing Cross station. I must confess, watching you come apart with pleasure was a magnificent sight." His voice grew deeper, dangerously serious. Passion darkened his eyes a stormy blue.

"After that your body slumped onto Ollie's chest, completely limp and utterly spent. I hesitate to tell you the rest of the story though I'm sure you have an inkling." His shoulders hunched in a shrug. Just like that his serious demeanor vanished, replaced by his usual playfulness. "Well, I hope your little nap has restored you because the fun has just begun."

He was so close. His face hovered a few inches above hers. In the dim light of the dying fire she could make out his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. The glint of gold gave him a predatory air, which both frightened and thrilled her in equal measure. With one hand still holding her down, the other dipped into his shirt pocket to draw out a fine silk handkerchief. He tipped the brown bottle over onto it, the knowing smile never leaving his face.

"Good Grace, sweet Grace, innocent Grace." His words were honeyed but his tone was slightly mocking.

"Please let me go." Grace entreated in a small voice.

He leaned in until she felt his warm breath on her face. She couldn't suppress a needful shudder when the unshaven line of his jaw brushed against the smooth curve of her cheek. Slowly he lowered him mouth to her ear. "Is that what you really want?"

Before she could answer his lips were suddenly upon hers, capturing her mouth. His arms held her fast while his mouth ravaged hers. His tongue delved into her with the most sensual rhythm, at once soft and strong. She shuddered, trying to fight her body's sinful response. The part of her mind that was still sane cried out for her to resist. She was a good girl, after all. A virgin. (At least until very recently.) She was not some whore to relish being used and abused. But that sane voice was steadily being drown out by a very different voice, a deep primal voice urging her to surrender.

She heeded the ancient command and gave herself over to the passionate pleasure of his mouth. Her muscles relaxed in a silent offering for Troy to take what he wanted. He eagerly seized what was given, plunging his tongue deeper into her pliant, open mouth. The intoxicating rush of submission made Grace dizzy with need. Soon she was kissing him back, her own tongue sparring with his. No longer simply passive, she explored the contours of his mouth, feeling both the heat of his lips and the cold metal of his teeth. The harsh contrast was exquisite.

She moaned into his mouth when his palm grazed her leg. His kiss was becoming more demanding while the touch of his hand moved up and up, leaving her breathless and overstimulated. When he finally broke the kiss, her mind was reeling so that she hardly noticed the cloth descending over her face. Warm lips were abruptly exchanged for cool silk. The scent of sandalwood and lust was replaced by the acrid smell of chemicals.

"Mmmmmhhmm hmmn," she groaned in surprise.

The haze of their kiss had vanished and, in its place, a new haze was rolling in. She shook her head from side to side to escape from the cloth and the accompanying black cloud that threatened to swallow her up whole.

Ignoring her mumbled objections, Troy pressed forward, prompting her legs to open. And open they did- easily, though she tried to refuse entry. She twisted away from his caress but he pushed on, reminding her of his dominance. His questing fingers traversed the vulnerable skin of her inner thigh to find the tiny, hypersensitive bud at the top of her sex and worked it between thumb and forefinger.

Just like that, her body turned traitor to the warnings of her mind. Her hips rocked on their own against his hand, pussy aching to be filled. Fear. Shame. Desire. The heady cocktail of emotions coursed through her veins, extinguishing her inhibitions. She moaned deeply into the handkerchief when she felt the hard length of his manhood prodding into her stomach, straining for freedom from the confines of his increasingly tight trousers. She knew that soon he would want to use it on her.

Grace was swiftly losing what little control she still had over her body. Her hands, that had been feebly trying to pry the cloth from her face, would no longer listen to their owner. They fell away and landed at her side with a thud. At some point her legs had ceased their distracted resistance. A sense of helplessness came over her, strangely increasing the ache between her thighs.

"Shhh, don't fight it. You're mine now." He cooed, continuing to rub the abject girl's mound. "and I intend to take full advantage."

Troy stared down at her, pinning her with his penetrating stare. The intensity of his eyes mesmerized until her vision blurred and the handsome features of his face grew dim. She could feel her resistance melting by the second, her willpower diminishing with each delightful motion of his hand. Gently he slipped the tip of a finger inside her slick folds. They groaned in unison as her greedy channel sucked at the digit, easing in further. Now slippery with her juices, he easily worked another finger into her. Grace's body responded, dowsing his hand with more of her liquid arousal. Even with the dull ringing in her ears she could hear her own wetness slurping against his palm.

"Not so innocent after all." Troy laughed harshly at her body's obvious signs of arousal.

She should have been mortified to have her secret, shameful desires made known. But as she sunk into the now familiar stupor, such reservations seemed trivial and far removed. A dull awareness settled over her. Soon she would be completely at Troy's mercy, to be used as he saw fit. There was nothing she could do to stop it. She didn't really want to stop it. The good girl was gone. Grace wanted to hold on to the revelation but her thoughts quavered and then dissolved until she was left with nothing but sensations. There was only the sweet friction on her heated sex and the gathering darkness. And Troy.

A yawning chasm opened before her. She was being led towards it by Troy's capable hands. The same hands that were presently bringing her so much pleasure were steadily dragging her into the unknown. Too sleepy to truly appreciate the irony, Grace gave up the fight to keep her heavy eyes open. Down she went.

A confusing blend of fear and arousal followed her into the void.

* * *

Grace came to with the sensation of coarse wood scraping along her back. Masculine scents surrounded her: brandy, tobacco, sweat and- what was it- sandalwood. The smell tugged at her fuzzy memory. Where am I? Hesitantly she peeked from under lowered lids to discover a pair of hazy figures standing between her splayed legs. She counted- one, two, three, four legs. Wait, that can't be right.

Grace blinked hard until her double vision suddenly clicked into focus. Now she could make out that Troy was the one between her legs, (only two legs, thankfully). The stocking clad limbs hung limply over Troy's broad shoulders. The way he was lunging forward and back made little sense to her addled mind. Her arms felt cramped. An attempt to move them brought her attention to the fact that they were being secured above her head by firm hands. It took a long time for her sluggish mind to put the pieces together. But then reality dawned.

Holy hell! She was being fucked on a table by a notorious rogue while her own kin held her down. Grace was horrified- not by what was being done to her but by how much she liked it.

Troy's shirt was unbuttoned revealing a seductive spattering of hair upon a chest glistening with sweat. Wisps of black hair fell over his forehead. He looked like a dark fantasy come to life. Grace longed to reach out and touch him if only to make sure he was real. But she couldn't with her arms restrained. She could only look on helplessly as he ravished her. With the feeling slowly coming back to her numb body Grace became aware of her tender pussy. A burgeoning soreness blossomed with each impact. It hurt like nothing she had every felt before but all she wanted was more.

Grace let her head roll to the side. Ollie was standing beside her, his looming silhouette blocking out the light of the dimming fire. He was toying with her breasts, squeezing and releasing the wanton peaks one at a time. All the while he was casually stroking his astonishingly large instrument. Even in the low light she could make out every thick, veiny inch. Grace found it unreal that that thing had been inside her. Yet the entire night had a feeling of unreality. A forbidden flight of fancy she hadn't even dared to dream.

She gasped as Ollie seized a tender nipple. He rolled and pinched the little bud until it was sore and swollen. Then he moved onto the other side. His touch was firm and insistent, the subtle assault causing the tension to build inside her. Unthinkingly she arched into his hands, filling his palms with the fleshy mounds. Grace may have imagined it but she actually thought she saw a jagged slash of a smile creep across Ollie's perpetually mirthless face.

She let her half-closed eyes wander back to Troy. He was staring down at the place where they were joined, watching his thick shaft go in and out of her tight passage. Suddenly his gaze shot upward to meet her own. She gasped. He winked. And then carried on without missing a beat. With each fierce jerk of his hips he buried himself to the hilt and then withdrew at a leisurely pace. She tried to stay still and quiet so that she would not alert the others to her budding consciousness but his powerful thrusts were a delightful torment to her aching pussy. Despite her best efforts a soft moan managed to escape her lips.

"I think she's waking up." Ollie grumbled. "Lemme check."

His calloused fingers brushed the sensitive skin under her armpit. Grace tried but she couldn't hold back a small giggle.

Owen sprang into actions, transferring her wrists to one hand while retrieving the familiar cloth. "It's time to say goodnight, Grace."

"No, Nooo—ppleeehh- mmmphhhfffmm..." Her protests were silenced by the hand descending over her mouth. The cloth was cold and damp against Grace's skin and the saccharine odor made her nose wrinkle in disgust. Her body instinctively fought the fumes. Yet the dreamy tingling feeling that washed over her mind was not entirely unpleasant.

Troy continued to push into her, unbothered by her weak thrashing. He groaned as the reflexive gyrations of her pelvis rode his long, hard cock. His fullness stretched her to the point of pain but she couldn't control the desperate rocking of her hips, driving him deeper. It was so wicked, so wrong, so wonderful. Grace thought it couldn't get any better until Troy reached down to circled the sensitive little bud between her folds and it got so much better.

Grace didn't want the moment to end. She wanted him to keep pounding into her forever. But she could already feel the stupefying effects of the chloroform. If only she could get a few purifying breaths free of the sense-stealing elixir then she could clear her swimming head. She moaned in wordless plea into the rag being persistently pressed tightly over her nose and mouth.

The upside-down outline of her stepfather's face peered down over her. His expression was impassive but there was an unmistakable heat in his eyes. She caught his gaze letting her unfocused eyes entreat where her mouth could not. Abruptly the cloth was removed from her lips. Gratefully, her lungs inhaled a few gulps of fresh air. The head spins subsided. A little.

"Shhh," Owen soothed her, gliding a surprisingly tender hand across her cheek. "Have you learned your lesson?"

Words failed to form on her numb lips. Instead she nodded vigorously, letting the contrition shine out from her big baby blues.

"Good girl." He smiled and smoothed a stray lock from her forehead with one hand while the other hand reapplied the drugging rag over his stepdaughter's face.

Clearly there would be no reprieve.

The spinning returned in full force. Barely able to a mange a halfhearted mffph sound, Grace quickly felt the strength drain from her. Legs slumped off Troy's shoulders to dangle limply over the edge of the table. Arms twitched aimlessly. Her limbs no longer belonged to her. None of her did. She was merely a spectator in her own body.

As if from a distance, she felt Troy gripped her listless body, lifting her hips off the table to fuck her in deep, forceful thrusts. He was in total control, his touch so deft and practiced. Her hips bucked on their own accord as he worked in and out of her with punishing precision. All the while his thumb continued circling the little bundle of nerves, the apparent epicenter of her growing pleasure. He was driving her towards a precipice she could feel approaching even if she didn't understand exactly what it was.

Apparently sensing the impending crisis, Ollie redoubled his attentions on her breasts. His touch progressing from casual pawing to outright mauling. He seized the tender globes, squeezing them together harshly and then letting the heavy handfuls fall to her side. Owen had since given up restraining her numb, useless arms and was also exploring the girl's soft, unblemished flesh.

Hands were everywhere, groping, bruising, binding. A chorus of low groans and heavy breathing filled the air. Surrounded by male desire on all sides Grace felt set upon, like a lamb thrown to hungry wolves. It made her keenly aware of their power- and her powerlessness. The realization sent a dizzying bolt of lust through her. That was enough to send her over the edge into a heart stopping climax.

Grace's back arching so sharply that she would have lifted straight off the table if not for the men's firm hold of her writhing body. Pulses of pleasure swelled and contracted like a living thing. Grace saw stars. The colorful shapes danced and spun before her flickering eyelids. She cried out in torturous bliss but her screams of sexual surrender were captured by the damp cloth.

Troy fucked her through the tremors. She clung to the final moments of consciousness, desperate to hold onto the heavenly sensation of each slowly diminishing wave of pleasure. But she could only fight the losing battle for so long. Every breath drew more of the pungent fumes into her lungs.

The stars had gone dark. The pleasurable aftershocks had abandoned her leaving bone-deep exhaustion in their wake. She was floating away. Troy carried on ramming into her but she could only look on with detached curiosity. Without warning he was calling out, a primal, throaty roar. She vaguely perceived a sense of emptiness as he slid out of her. Her eyelids were in rapid flutter now, her vision narrowing to a pin prick. The last thing Grace saw was Troy shooting white-hot spurts of come across her torso. Only when the last drop of seed had dribbled onto her naked flesh did she finally submit to the pulling blackness.

* * *

Grace woke slowly from a deep, dreamless sleep. Once again, she found herself naked on the floor but this time she was alone. She groaned. Her head throbbed as if she had been on a three-day bender. And yet she felt surprisingly well rested. Rising slowly, she shook her head from side to side to reduce the cobwebs and squinted at the sunlight. The harsh rays filtering through the smoggy windows suggested it was late morning.

Grace made her way to a mirror and gasped at the stranger she saw there. Her golden hair had fallen into a disheveled tangle down her back. Sticky white seed had dried in splotches across her chest and stomach. She looked like a common strumpet! In the mirror's reflection, she inspected the various signs of rough usage left on her naked flesh. Her fingers lingered over the marks with a mixture of revulsion and titillation. Each one was a tangible reminder of a moment from the night before. Small purple blotches reminded her of Troy's firm grip on her hips. Latticelike bruises across her bottom brought back memories of Owen's birch rod. The deep ache in her cunnnie was a vivid reminder of her lost innocence.