Intrusion

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The intruder didn't waste much time with those, hooking one finger under the edge of the lace and pulling them down, letting them add to the pile of fabric on the floor. Miranda held back a choked sob. She was stark naked, bent over her bed in front of some brutal, knife-wielding stranger. How much worse could this night possibly get?

A soft, gloved hand caressed one perfectly toned cheek, causing her to twitch away, startled. The hand continued to glide along her skin, testing the weight and quality of her ass just like he did with her breasts. He tapped her ass a few times, never hard, almost curious to see how her body would react. She bit her lip and kept her eyes shut, desperately wishing she was somewhere far, far away from here.

His hand left her skin, and she heard the slight jingling of his belt buckle, the soft brush of leather against denim. Her heart nearly stopped. Surely he didn't mean to start whipping her with his belt! She lowered her head and silently begged him to leave, fearing the whip of his belt more than any other kind of pain he could give her.

Instead of striking at her, he stepped forward, pressing his enormous body flush with hers. She gasped softly, feeling the weight of his erection pressing through his jeans into her right cheek. He reached around, grabbing her wrists and forcing them together, then looping the thick length of his belt around her wrists. He pulled it tight and knotted it, not painful, but enough to keep her from twisting away and escaping. He reached down and threaded the loose end of the belt between the vertical wooden slats of her footboard, knotting it securely.

He stood up again and placed his hands on her shoulders, forcing her downwards. Frightened and confused, her knees buckled easily, letting her sink to the floor without much resistance. The leather belt slid up along the slats and she sank down, stopping once her knees touched the floor. The position left her completely vulnerable; the leather belt was tied tightly around her wrists and the bed, giving her only a few inches to move. She couldn't move, she couldn't escape, she couldn't fight.

Her attacker shifted behind her, dropping to his knees. He slid his hands between her thighs and forced them apart, exposing the most delicate part of her person. Miranda whimpered again, trapped and helpless. If he wanted to ravage her, he was more then able to do so. There was nothing she could do to stop him.

She heard a soft shuffling behind her, felt his hands on her legs again, this time forcing her body up. She tried not to comply, tired to make herself dead weight against his grip. A sharp, hard slap on her ass cheek made her cry out and lift her body up, allowing his hands to slide gently along her inner thighs. His thumbs gently caressed the outer labia of her sex, slipping underneath and pulling them apart. She blushed again, nearly half her blood supply flowing into her cheeks. The most vulnerable, precious part of her body was now fully open to him, and as hard as she might try, there was no taking that exposure back.

A warm, soft tongue brushed against the inner fold of her sex, forcing a startled cry from her throat. Panic roared through her blood and she thrashed against her restraints, trying as hard as she could to break the wooden slats, undo the knots. Not that, not that. Anything but that. Anything but pleasure. This wasn't what she'd expected, it was far worse. This wasn't just an assault; he was toying with her in the worst way. Violating her and making her enjoy it. She didn't want to enjoy it. This wasn't the type of event a person likes. This is the kind of thing that scars them for life, that gives them nightmares. She didn't want to find pleasure from this. If she did, even in the smallest way, it would make the event all the more vile.

"No! No, no, stop!" She pulled her wrists back, trying to free herself. "Stop!"

Another lick, this time with more force, caressed her sex. His tongue dragged upwards, reaching her small, hidden clitoris. The tip of his tongue pressed firmly against the small nub, this time making her cry out in shocked pleasure. She gritted her teeth and groaned against the unwanted satisfaction, doing everything in her power to force her body's hunger down. A useless endeavor, since her body was hardwired to accept any and all pleasurable sensations, no matter their source.

Another twisting flick of his tongue made her twitch with unwanted arousal. She tried to pull away, pulling at her restrains again and trying to lift her body up, away from his mouth. Strong hands wrapped around her thighs, fingers digging into her flesh as he jerked her back down. His lips wrapped around her sensitive clit and sucked hard, startling her with a near painful burst of pleasure. Her knees buckled involuntarily and he caught her as she fell, controlling her descent so that she ended up back in her original, trapped position. He shifted his hands, slipping his palms under her ass to give himself more control over her movements. She could twitch and squirm against him, but nothing more.

His lips and tongue returned to their work, sucking and swirling over her clit, laving her labia, teasing the tight hole hidden further down. Despite her best attempts at controlling her reactions, her body began to warm to his assault. Her body and her mind warred over which should have total control of the situation, with her body slowly, steadily winning the fight; her stomach clenched in disgust, her clit hardened against his attentions. Miranda groaned again, a mix of pleasure, horror and despair. She couldn't deny it felt good; the man, for all his roughness and forcefulness, had one hell of a talented tongue.

What is this? None of the assault stories I've read about ever contained this kind of stuff.

He continued teasing her, alternating between stroking her labia and suckling her clit, drawing out soft whimpers from her throat. Disgusted as she was with herself for event thinking of enjoying such an act, her body seemed much more keen of satisfying its own needs than supporting her conscience. It'd been three long years since any man had rolled around in her bed, weeks since she'd had time to masturbate and relieve herself. This new source of pleasure, unwelcome as it may be, wasn't going to be turned down.

Miranda choked out a soft sob. She was lashed to the bed, unable to free herself as a complete stranger tormented her sex with his mouth. This was horrifying and confusing, enjoyable in the worst possible way. The more she tried to struggle, the tighter his grip became, the more he restricted her movements. Eventually, after several minutes of tugging at her restraints and squirming away from his tongue, exhaustion set in and her body caved. The muscles in her legs gave out, forcing her to sink even lower against his mouth. He took immediate advantage, lathing and teasing her sex with more power and accuracy. She could feel the smooth skin of his cheeks and chin against her thighs, the gentle heat of his breath against her skin, making her shiver against him.

She squirmed against him again, this time reacting to the pleasure than out of panic. She could feel her sex starting to moisten, small drops of her arousal beading around her labia, forcing another blush to her cheeks. It honestly felt good, wonderful actually, and the realization boggled her. She should be horrified, disgusted, traumatized. And yet here she was, actually enjoying this restraint, this assault. The thought made her stomach churn again, though her body quickly forced any lingering feelings of fear and repulsion away, instead making her focus on the pleasure below.

She felt him shift under her, tilting his head slightly to get a better angle. Instead of swirling his tongue around her clit, he scraped his teeth against it, gently, but with enough force to make her notice. She bucked against him and barked out a sharp cry, electrifying pleasure coursing though her. She closed here eyes and bit her lip, silently cursing him. He was finished toying with her. The last few moments were simply a test, poking and prodding to see how long it would take for her to crack. Now that she'd crumbled, he wanted a real reaction. He continued scraping his teeth against her hardened clit, drawing out one sharp cry after another. Her blood started to boil and her skin itched, her body hotter and more aroused than it had been in weeks.

He gave her one final nip against her clit and she shattered, climaxing hard against her will. Her back arched and her hands clenched, pulling the leather belt taut against her bed frame. Quick, sharp pulses of pleasure flowed through her, making her stomach clench and her insides flutter. As the waves of pleasure slowed, she relaxed, dropping her hands and pressing her forehead against the cool wood of her bed. She panted softly, overcome by the shock and pleasure of that orgasm. It shouldn't have happened, not here, not like this. But it did happen, and no matter how vehemently she tried denying it, it was something she'd enjoyed.

Her captor gave her one last slow, torturous lick against her clit before sliding out from under her, his hands releasing their firm grip on her ass. She remained kneeling on the floor, momentarily exhausted. A thin sheen of sweat coated her back and shoulders, shinning dully in the soft light of the lamp.

"What is this?" she whispered, swallowing sharply. "What are you doing?"

As usual, her assailant said nothing. Instead, she heard his heavy footsteps behind her, adjusting his position as he unzipped the fly of his pants. Her stomach clenched again. He wasn't done with her, not by a long shot. He'd given her pleasure, whether against her will or not, now he wanted something in return. A warm gloved hand cupped her shoulder, gently pulling her away from the bed. She dropped her chin, determined to be as defiant as possible. He might have pulled one over on her once, but the rest of his twisted fantasy was going to be much more difficult to satisfy.

Warm gloved fingers slid under her chin, coaxing her face upwards. She bit back a startled groan, settling for a disappointed frown instead. She'd been right, he was expecting payment for the pleasure he'd given her. Like the rest of his physical form, the cock in front of her face was impressively sized. Long, but not outrageously so, it was thick enough that her fingers would just barely encircle its girth. Dark veins criss-crossed over its surface, pulsing slightly with extra blood. The tip was stained a dark purple, contrasting with the fairer skin of the shaft. A small patch of dark hair rested at its base, thick and tightly curled.

Damn it.

Her frown deepened, her frustration and revulsion reaching a boiling. This man broke into her apartment, stripped her naked, tied her to a bed and gave her oral sex against her will. Now he had the audacity to demand repayment? He was either completely psychotic or had balls of steel.

Those warm fingers slipped up along her jaw and behind her ear, twisting into her hair and holding her steady. He stepped forward, the tip of his cock tickling her cheek. She could feel the smooth, warm slickness of rubber covering his skin. He'd had enough sense to put on a condom. Damn it, the man was armed to the teeth and more prepared than she'd expected.

Clamping her jaw shut, Miranda turned her face away from him, letting his cock brush against her cheek. She wasn't going to satisfy him, not after the shit he'd put her through. He'd broken into her apartment and scared the living fuck out of her. There was no way she'd gift him with anything.

He captor tried again, aiming his cock towards her mouth. She twisted her head, dodging his cock a second time, keeping her mouth clamped shut. They played this game of chasing and dodging several times, and she could feel his frustration building. His fingers tightened in her hair slightly, trying to hold her still. She refused to play along, and continued to avoid any contact with his penis beyond the occasional brush against her cheek.

He stilled suddenly, and pulled back, the warm heat of his cock leaving her cheek. His fingers remained twisted tightly in her hair and he crouched down in front of her, his eyes burrowing into hers. No longer soft and semi-friendly, his gaze was irritated, frustrated, angry. Dark brows knitted together above his eyes, making his annoyance all the more obvious. Caught under his menacing gaze, Miranda's stubborn resistance started to crack. His molten, steely orbs glared into her panicked emerald green. The longer he glared at her, the more frightened she became. There was a danger about those eyes, a threat that was far more convincing through his gaze than his word ever would be.

She swallowed and pulled back a bit, suddenly far less determined and willful than before. She knew he still had the knife clipped to his pants, knew he was skilled enough to know how to use it. The darkness in his eyes was more frightening than any other threat he could possibly conjure up, and the last bit of her resistance crumbled. She dropped her shoulders and chewed her lip nervously, heart pounding in her ears, waiting for him to move.

His brows rose a fraction and his eyes returned to their previously soft appearance, albeit with a certain sense of satisfaction added to them. He straightened again, his fingers loosening their tight grip on her hair. Miranda sighed heavily, pitifully resigned to her fate. Fear had overcome reason and stubbornness, forcing away any lingering hopes of fighting against him. He was calculated, practiced, painfully sure of himself. He was the silent predator, she was the timid prey. Their roles had been assigned by him long ago. Those eyes of his were equally terrifying; they could shift in a mater of heartbeats, changing from empathetic to remorseless with ease. The most frightening part of him was his silence. He never spoke, never made a single sound for or against her. It made him seem disconnected, inhuman.

His free hand slipped behind her head, twisting itself into her hair and held her still. He shifted his hips, placing his thick cock in front of her face again. Miranda whimpered softly, flinching back out of instinct. His forearms flexed as he stilled her movements, rendering her immobile. The tip of his cock bumped her lips, warm and firm. Miranda stilled, closing her eyes in rebellion. His cock bumped her mouth again, firmer this time, more insistent. Sighing softly, Miranda opened her eyes, swallowing through a tight throat. She dropped her shoulders an inch in defeat and opened her mouth, hesitating for just an instant before gliding her tongue out to lick the tip.

His cock twitched slightly at the contact, and his fingers tightened involuntarily in her hair. The latex condom was smooth and warm on her tongue, slightly bitter in taste. She pulled back a fraction of an inch, blushing furiously, before giving a second lick across the swollen tip. Internally, she knew she should be fighting for her life, screaming and kicking and making as much noise as possible to attract some kind of attention. But the thought of the knife, smooth and sharp in her captor's hands, kept her docile.

She gave another lick across the head of his cock before he moved, shifting his hips forward so the bulbous tip slipped past her lips. Her eyes widened, startled, at this new intrusion. He paused, holding himself still while his cock rested just inside her mouth. He was exceedingly warm against her tongue, thick enough to rest solidly on her tongue, but not so outrageously huge that his size would be uncomfortable. Miranda held herself completely still, not wanting to attract too much unwanted attention.

The thought of biting down did cross her mind. His cock, arguably the most sensitive and prized part of a man's anatomy, was inside her mouth, surrounded by rows of sharp, strong teeth. Instinctively, her jaw tightened a fraction, her teeth just barely scraping against the thin latex of the condom. If she did bite, he'd at least be in a considerable amount of pain, maybe even enough to turn the tables on their current positions. But, even if she did manage to inflict some damage by nipping his cock, the fact remained that she'd still be tied to the bed, unable to free herself. And when he recovered from her bite . . .

She felt the fingers of one hand untangle themselves from her hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of his hands pull away from her face, reaching back towards his hips to rest on the handle of the knife. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the handle, the soft leather barely making a sound on the polished wood. Her heart rate rocketed for a moment and she swallowed sharply. No doubt he'd probably guessed what she'd been thinking, and he'd reached for his ever dependable weapon to reaffirm the threat.

I know what you're thinking. Don't you dare.

Reason overpowered stubbornness, and she relaxed her jaw again. The small bit of damage she could inflict with her teeth would be nothing compared to the scars he could make with that knife of his.

Satisfied with her new compliance, her captor re-twisted his fingers into her hair and shifted his hips forward, pushing his cock deeper into her mouth. He paused for a moment, allowing her to become comfortable with his size and weight before slowly pulling back. He continued in a slow rhythm, moving slowly yet forcefully in and out of her mouth. She'd half expected him to immediately deep-throat her and fuck her mouth with force, but that wasn't his way. He never pushed too far or too fast, instead keeping an easy, relaxed pace that was strangely, eerily comfortable. She held still while he slowly explored her mouth, barely daring to do more than breathe and blink.

Against her better judgment, she found herself starting to relax. The longer he moved in and out of her mouth, the more comfortable she became; her jaw loosened a bit, allowing him better access to her mouth. He must have noticed her new compliance, because his grip in her hair suddenly tightened. He bucked forward sharply, driving more of his cock into her mouth, not quite reaching her throat, but coming damn close. She whimpered at the new depth of his intrusion, her body now uncomfortable with his control. He held her still for a moment, savoring the feel of her warm mouth around the entire length of his cock, then pulled back and resumed the same languid pace he'd kept before.

What the fuck is this? Some kind of fuck-and-kill game?

It sure as hell felt like it. Her captor seemed perfectly content with fucking with her head before doing any real damage. Like a cat playing with a wounded mouse: killing her outright would destroy all the fun, so he'd kept her alive as some sort of giant psychological mind-fuck to get her nice and terrified before he cut her to pieces.

This is not how I want to die, tied up and fuck by some masked psycho. How the fuck am I supposed to get out of this if I cant-

A single, appalling, debilitating thought flickered through her mind. She was tied up and being fucked by some masked stranger, but she might still have a chance at getting out alive, grotesque as the thought may be. She couldn't move or fight or scream, but she might be able to play, on the off chance that he didn't intend to kill her. If sex is what he's after, then maybe giving him what he wants was her best shot at getting on his good side. Complacency might not be the most attractive option, but it just might score her enough points to crawl away unscathed.

She groaned softly and squeezed her eyes shut. The mere thought of voluntarily pleasuring this man was horrifying, but it was also the best chance she would get. Sighing internally, she forced her body to relax a bit more, waiting patiently for him to move into a better position.