Intrusion

He gave another deep push, forcing nearly all of his cock into her mouth. She took a quick, deep breath and steadied herself. She had to, she had to. As he pulled back, Miranda sucked in gently, creating enough friction that the thick head of his cock was caught just inside her lips. She ran her tongue over and around the tip, hearing him inhale sharply at the sensation. Her stomach fluttered a bit. He clearly enjoyed the attention she was giving his cock, so maybe her plan had a chance of working after all.

Before she could attempt to tease him more, her captor untangled his finger from her hair and stepped back, pulling his cock from her lips. Her mouth now empty, Miranda dropped her eyes to the floor, her heart racing. She hoped that her last act of playfulness might have tilted the scales in her favor, but this man was both skilled in his craft and highly intelligent. He might have already guessed what her little tease was really for, which would mean that all of her effort was for naught.

Please, please let this work.

She remained motionless for a while, staring at the floor, waiting for him to move. She could hear his labored breathing, slightly muffled by his mask, as he stood over her. Blood pounded in her ears, her heart beating so fast she was surprised it hadn't sputtered out and caved in on itself. Suddenly, he moved, taking a single step towards her until he was towering over her crouched frame. She swallowed sharply, staring at the smooth black leather of his boots.

She jumped at the feeling of his fingers in her hair, skimming down and brushing the side of her neck. Chewing her lip, she cautiously raised her head to look up at him. He stared down at her, his eyes a mix of satisfaction and intense thought. He stroked her hair and neck again, then gently patted her cheek with his leather-clad fingers. She could swear he was smiling behind that mask, satisfied with her obedience.

He stepped away, leaving her tied to the bedrail. She watched him as he made his way towards her small hall closet, pushing one of the sliding doors aside. He rummaged through the racks of blouses and pants, pushing hangers from one side to the other. Periodically, he would stop and examine a piece of her clothing, rubbing the fabric between his gloved fingers, inspecting it. Miranda watched him, stretching her neck to get a better view.

What the hell is he looking for?

Her captor spent another few seconds rummaging around in her closet before stepping back and sliding the door back into place. He turned, staring at her with those strange eyes. His hands hung down at his sides, one of them clenched around two thin long, strips of fabric. She recognized them as a pair of satin shirt ties that designers often pair with blouses when they're too lazy to actually make a belt. The man then strode towards her, stopping just in front of her face. He crouched down in front of her, his bright grey eyes level with hers. They were a mix of emotions: lustful, warm, curious. He reached out with his free hand and brushed his warm gloved fingers along her cheek. She flinched away instinctively, to which he responded with a soft bubble of mocking laughter.

He reached over the bedrail and untied his belt from the wood. Holding the end of the belt, he stood, pulling her up with him. She stumbled slightly, scrambling to regain her footing after being on her knees for so long. Before she could fully regain her equilibrium, she felt a sharp tug on her wrists that pulled her forward, then sideways towards the top of her bed. She felt a warm hand on her shoulder before being shoved forward onto her bed, crying out as she fell helplessly into the piles of blankets and pillows she slept in. An instant later she felt the bed dip beside her as her captor kneeled on her bedding. He reached upwards towards the headboard, looping his belt between the wooden slats and tying her to her bed once more. She looked up at the new knot and whimpered. These were much heavier and thicker than the wooden planks at the bottom of her bed; they'd be much harder to break free from if she tried to struggle.

Satisfied with his work, he pulled back and turned, grabbing hold of one of her ankles as he picked up one of the satin ties. He started winding the tie around her ankle, knotting it tightly before looping the loose end around the far end of the footboard.

"Hey! What the hell?" she barked, panic flaring anew in her belly. "No, let got of me. Let go!"

She kicked out at him, trying any means to free herself or at least put some distance between them. Once again, he managed to out-maneuver her. He caught her leg mid-kick with his free hand and pulled it against his side, tucking it under his arm. He continued tying her other leg to the foot board as she tried vainly to free herself from his grip. With her first leg secure. He picked up the second strip of fabric and grabbed her free ankle, knotting it and pulling her leg towards the opposite end of the bedrail.

"Stop it! Stop!" she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes. "Please, what is this? What do you want?"

He finished his knot and stood up, walking around to the end of her bed to peer down at her. She was trussed up on her own bed, with her wrists secured at the top and her legs splayed at the bottom, leaving little room for her to move, let alone fight. She was fully, totally restrained. Miranda sobbed quietly to herself. She was trapped in her apartment with a silent, masked stranger, tied to her bed with no hope of escape. What in the hell had she down to deserve this?

The man moved again, walking towards the small wooden nightstand that she kept beside her bed. She turned her head and watched as he knelt down in front of the stand and pulled open the first drawer, sifting through the piles of novels and magazines she would read through at night. Disappointed, he closed the drawer and pulled the second one open, leafing through the array of skimpy nightgowns and chemises she slept in. Miranda kept watching him, chewing her lip nervously.

What's he looking f- oh no...

Her stomach tightened instantly. What else could he be looking for? Like any other normal person, all of her toys were kept in her nightstand for easy access. She whimpered softly, closing her eyes in horrified shame. This was far more than just a simple rob-rape-kill scheme. He truly intended to play with her, to torment her in the worst way possible. This man wasn't just practiced an intelligent, he was a sociopath.

As he closed the second drawer and reached for the handle of the third, Miranda whimpered involuntarily. His grey eyes flicked to her, seeming to immediately understand what she was so nervous about. Opening that drawer would give him all the ammunition he would need to break her into pieces. He continued to stare at her, his eyes almost unreadable, yet she could swear there was a hint of playfulness in them. Taking a single extra second to wink at her - surely an attempt to torment her further - he turned back to the nightstand and pulled the last drawer open.

Much as she enjoyed pleasure, Miranda was by no means a nymphomaniac. Shed kept a handful of vibrators and toys in that last drawer, but certainly nothing that would shock anyone. Nothing fancy, nothing extreme, just the basics that worked for her. The only 'oddity' in that drawer was a small pair of glass ben-wa balls that she used periodically when cleaning to make her chores more enjoyable. Her captor reached up and flicked on the small bedside lamp on top of the dresser and peered down into the drawer. He rested his elbows on his thighs and stared at her small collection of toys intensely, as if calculating the pros and cons of each device.

He reached into the drawer and ran his fingers over the grooves and polishes, inspecting the feel of each one. His hand stopped over the smooth surface of one of her small bullet vibrators. He picked up the tiny instrument, rubbing his gloved fingers over its flawless surface. Miranda watched him silently, her heart pounding in her ears, her stomach now tied into several different knots. Seemingly satisfied with his selection, he gently wrapped the cord and controller of the vibrator around the palm of his hand and stood up, turning his attention back to her. She swallowed sharply, the pit in her stomach deepening.

He stepped forward to the edge of her bed, staring down at her with those strange grey eyes of his. Still watching her, he settled down beside her on the bed. He reached out and gently ran his fingers along her taut stomach, tracing the lines and curves of her form. Instinctively, she tugged at her restraints, desperate to free herself despite knowing the foolishness of it. Even knowing that she should hate every second of this encounter, her body reacted to his touch. The window was still open and the air around them was still cold, so his warm fingers were a welcome feeling against her chilled skin.

He continued his soft strokes along her skin, moving downward towards her sex. Again, she pulled against her restraints, trying to close her legs against his approach, but the carved oak slats were stronger than her willpower. He teased the sensitive skin of her hips and inner thighs, giving her quick, gentle brushes of his fingers that tickled her flesh. He slipped his finger along the length of her slit, the leather sliding easily between her lips. That finger circled her clit twice, alternating between a gentle pressure and a firmer touch. She whimpered and closed her eyes, refusing to look at him. This was torture, pure and simple. Sadistic, horrific torture.

He pulled his finger away, drawing out another whimper. Throughout all the fear and anger and disgust that her mind was sorting through, he'd managed to set her body alight. The basic, animalistic part of her being immediately recognized pleasure and locked onto it, not caring where it came from or why. The reptilian part of her brain wanted whatever gifts he had to offer, no matter how much he logical part of her mind screamed.

He shifted on the bed, angling his body for a better reach and a better view. He unwound the cord of the vibrator from his hand and placed the small metal bullet in his palm. With his free hand, he inspected the remote, turning the control dial this way and that, watching how the vibrator shook accordingly. He practiced this for a moment or two, getting a feel for how the device worked before turning it off completely. Reaching down, he placed the warmed metal between her thighs, working it in and around her sex. She moaned gently, ashamedly enjoying the sensation of smooth surface against her body, then squealed when it brushed against her clit. His hand froze, trapping the vibrator against her clit. He turned his head to look at her, his eyes locking with hers. They were determined, lustful, satisfied.

"Please...please don't," she pleaded. "Please."

His eyes never left hers as he rolled his thumb along the dial of the controller, pushing it just enough to make the smooth metal quiver against her ever so gently. She inhaled sharply as she back arched, her toes curling at the feeling. Sharp sparks of pleasure radiated outward from her clit, working their way into her belly. He let the vibrator run for a few seconds before turning it off, watching as she relaxed and fell back onto her bed, panting. She managed a few quick breaths before he turned it on again, her body tensing again as more pleasurable sparks swam through her blood. He turned the dial again, watching as she yelped and pulled against her restraints, before turning it off to let her relax. She sobbed quietly, torn between the pleasure between her thighs and the disgust at feeling it. He let her breathe for a moment before turning the dial again. Her captor didn't turn it off this time, instead alternating between a soft, gentle tickling and an intense stimulation of her nerves. The sensations never stopped, only lessened periodically, before intensifying again as he toyed with her.

Much as her mind hated her current situation, her body loved it. Her skin was flushed, and a thin sheen of sweat coated her breasts and stomach. Her toes would curl and relax in time with his torture, and she chewed her lip as she struggled to hold back her pleasured groans. Finally, the vibrations ceased and she laid back, breathless ands exhausted. Her body was so tightly strung, so intensely aroused that even the tiniest brash against her clit would send her flying. Panting, she opened her eyes and look up at him, her mind in shambles and her skin of fire.

He returned her stunned, helpless gaze with one of determined playfulness. She could swear he was grinning at her under his mask, savoring every moment of her delicious torture. She inhaled sharply, pleading to him with her eyes, begging him to stop. He raised his hand, holding up the small controller, flaunting it. The rolled his thumb over the dial teasingly, threatening her with what was most certainly a painful amount of pleasure.

She whimpered again, shaking her head as she stared at him. "No. Please, no, no, no. Please don't."

His eyes never left hers as he turned the dial one last time. The vibrator rubbed against her clit, sending a fresh batch of sparks racing up her spine. The torment only lasted a few seconds before her body broke, her orgasm as quick as it was powerful. Her toes curled and her stomach tensed as she bit her lip, throwing her head back with a muffled yell. Her hands twisted blindly against her restraints, grabbing hold of his leather belt for grounding. The vibrations ceased and she collapsed into the bed, sobbing silently to herself, the muscles of her stomach and thighs twitching involuntarily. Her captor pulled his hand away, removing the vibrator from her clit. He stood and turned away from her, dropping the small metal device along with the controller on the nightstand. He walked around the bed and headed towards the small kitchen, leaving her a panting, exhausted mess on top of her blankets.

Miranda closed her eyes and sunk into the bedding, breathless and exhausted. Her mind whirled, trying to make sense of his thoughts, actions plans. He'd broken into her apartment, threatened her at knifepoint, stripped her, forced a blowjob from her, and made her orgasm twice. What was this? What in the holy fuck was this?

Keeping her eyes closed, she could hear him moving around in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets, searching for something. She heard the door to the fridge being opened, the sharp clink of ice against glass, the low hum of the faucet being turned on.

She furrowed her brow. Now what?

The faucet turned off, and she heard his heavy footsteps grow louder as he made his way back to the bed. He stopped at the edge of the bed, and Miranda felt the mattress dip again as he took a seat beside her. Taking a sharp breath, she opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him. He sat beside her, peering down into her questioning eyes, a small glass of ice water in his hands. Her eyes flicked from his masked face to the glass and back again, confused, startled, utterly baffled. All the threats, all the fear, all the unwanted attention, and now he was offering her a drink? What the hell was with this guy?

He lifted the glass towards her a bit, offering it to her. Swallowing sharply, she nodded. He scooted a bit closer to her, leaning forward and reaching his arm around her neck. His warm hand slid under her head and gently lifter her off the pillow, tilting her up a bit so she had a better view. He raised the glass to her lips and tipped it, letting her take a few careful sips before pulling back slightly. She drank greedily, the cool water wonderfully relieving on her parched throat. He tiled the glass towards her again, offering a second sip, to which she readily agreed. He tipped the glass a bit further, letting her take another few sips before pulling it away. He gently laid her head back down on the pillow, then pulled his hand back.

Through hazy eyes, Miranda watched as he set the glass on the floor and stood, walking around towards the end of her bed. He carefully untied her ankles from the bedrail, tossing the thin satin ribbons aside. Her body was so rattled by her climax, so exhausted from all of his toying and teasing, that even her newfound freedom couldn't prompt her to fight back against him. It donned on her that this was his plan all along, to leave her so hopelessly drained that she wouldn't have the strength needed to lash out again. Smart bastard.

Walking back around to the side of her bed, he reached down and gently gripped her hips and turned her, rolling her over onto her stomach. Tied, exhausted, and still completely baffled, she let him maneuver her without any fuss or fighting. Instead, she pressed her face into the pillow, enjoying the cool fabric pressing against her cheek. She felt the mattress dip again as he crawled onto the bed, positioning himself behind her. His warm hands slipped under her hips and lifted her body off the bed, pushing her forward slightly so her knees were bent under her. The bed shifted again as he moved closer, kneeling behind her with his hands on her hips, holding her still.

Miranda moaned softly into her pillow. She knew what was coming and silently prayed this would be the end of her torment. It felt like hours had passed since she'd first encountered him, held against his chest at knifepoint and stripped for his pleasure. She was exhausted, mentally and physically. If this was then end of his torture, then he could have it.

His thumbs rubbed tiny circles into the small of her back, making her squirm in his hands. He leaned his body forward, pressing his hips against her ass and his cock against her inner thigh. She whimpered softly, but never struggled. He reached down to grip his cock in his hand, guiding it to the entrance of her sex. The thick head pressed firmly against her labia, pausing for an instant to tease her with its presence before pressing into her. She inhaled sharply at the feeling; it had been a painfully long time since she'd had sex with a man, and her body had to readjust to the sensation of being filled by another person.

His cock felt different inside her pussy to how it felt in her mouth. Somehow, he felt thicker, heavier, more imposing. It wasn't at all unpleasant, but those years of unintended celibacy meant that she felt just a tad uncomfortable as he forced his way in. Finally, after endless seconds, his hips brushed against her ass. The extra weight of his cock made her insides feel heavy, and she inhaled sharply as her body slowly adjusted to his size. She felt one of his hands slide from her hip towards her back, pressing his warm palm into her skin as he rubbed the length of her spine, soothing her.

Slowly, her body relaxed around him and she sighed again. His warm hand cupped her hip again as he gradually started to pull back. He pushed forward again, driving into her, drawing out a soft moan. He pulled back again, pushed forward again, maintaining a slow, steady pace that warmed her blood. Miranda buried her face into her pillow, muffling her groans. She didn't want to enjoy this, but like every other move he made, he toyed with her just enough to coax her into playing along. The more he moved, the more her skin started to tingle, a welcome sensation against the cold breeze.

He lifted her hips and inch higher, pressing his cock down into the front of her pussy. Somehow, he managed to aim his body just right and brushed against that tiny, explosive little spot she loved. She yelped sharply and bucked against him, a new series of sparks radiating into her belly. He tightened his grip on her hips to hold her in place, but still maintained his slow, determined pace. Just like with the vibrator, once he'd found her sweet spot, he'd shifted her into the exact position that would allow him to play with her the most. With every push and pull, the tip of his cock would brush against the front wall of her pussy, making her twitch and moan. His aim was near perfect, his speed was measured; toying with her until the very end.