Laila's Home Invasion Pt. 03

My name is Laila, and I'm screwed. I'm going to die in a horrible way, but I'll get to that in a moment.

I'm twenty-one and the daughter of a well-off mixed couple. My dad is black and my mom is white, and they're both attorneys for a prestigious law firm in the city. We live in the country, or I guess they do now that I'm attending a university out of state, but I came back for my summer vacation. You see, I want to be a professor of cultural studies with a focus on racial conflict, but that dream is not going to happen now, not after this fucked up situation I'm in, but like I said, I'll get to that in a bit.

I'm five-ten with a lighter skin tone than most other African-American girls. I keep fit for the most part, and I have an athletic build with a decent muscle tone for a girl my age. I have rich black hair that curls down near my shoulders, but I have small breasts, only a B-cup in size. I'm not ashamed of my breast size, however. I've always been confident in my good looks, not a diva or anything, but I've never had low self-esteem over my body image.

Anyway, I came home for summer vacation, and my parents promptly left for their summer vacation, a five-week cruise to the Caribbean. I was four days into my little downtime here at the family home when an intruder decided to break in and try to steal my mom's jewel's out of my parents' bedroom. I caught him by getting the drop on him with my dad's Glock-19, and I handcuffed him to the 'guest' bed in the basement, that same bed where I'm now naked and handcuffed. That's right...naked and handcuffed.

You see, this young white man has some very defining features. He's five-eleven, kind of thin with a slender face topped with short black hair, and he has a thin ring shadow of a beard and mustache around his equally thin lips. He was dressed all in black, with a black long sleeve (which I cut to pieces with scissors...I'll get to that, so be patient), black jeans, black socks, and black sneakers. He even had on a pair of black boxers (I know, because I took them off him. I'll get to that in a bit as well). He has a long scar across his slender throat, as if someone had cut him, and this was why he was mute. His eyes, though, were what really got to me. They're an off color of blue, a dull-blue mixed with grey, and he has these golden circles around his pupils, like a ring of light reflecting off of dark water.

Anyway, I caught him and handcuffed him to the 'guest' bed in the basement. I had to play twenty-questions with him, receiving a nod or a shake of the head as an answer to get information from him. I should have called the police, but idiot me wanted to interrogate him. I found out that he's twenty-eight, he was trying to rob the house, he killed someone in the past, he has no STD's (I'll explain that fact in a bit), and he had a single child, but that child died. I didn't know his name, so I just called him 'Sam' for 'Silent, Accepting, and Mysterious'. In truth, I knew absolutely nothing about Sam.

This is where things went wrong. You see...I...might have...accidentally...raped him. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, we were both naked, and I was having wild and screaming sex on the bed. After we climaxed the first time, I even went so far as to give him anal, and I've never done that with a guy before. I've had one boyfriend in the past, and we'd had sex, so I wasn't a virgin, but...it never occurred to me in my wildest fantasies that I'd just up and fuck a complete stranger who was also a criminal that broke into my house with the intent to rob it.

But that's where I went wrong. I made a mistake, and I undid his handcuffs. He immediately disarmed me of my dad's Glock and then handcuffed me to the bed in his place. Then he snatched up his pants and shoes and fled, leaving me here to die. He didn't know the bed was bolted to the concrete basement floor, so I can't move the bed to go anywhere. I can't get out of these handcuffs, and my parents won't be back for four and a half weeks. That means I'll die of thirst in about two days, and I'll be laying in my own filth when it happens, because I'm going to have to answer the call of nature at some point, and no, I'm not looking forward to it. So...yeah...I'm fucked.

So here we are, all caught up.

I sobbed into my hands at the prospect of dying a slow and painful death. I misjudged Sam and treated him like a new toy instead of the dangerous intruder he was, and now I was screwed because of it.

I moved the handcuffs down the metal bedpost they were locked around and laid flat on my belly on the bed. It had to be nearing ten o'clock, because I was getting tired, sleepy, and this was my normal bedtime. There was also the fact that I was tired from the sex I'd had, sex I was now regretting, and in the worst way. I'd fucked a complete stranger, a dangerous sociopath at that, and it was my fault it happened, so it was my fault I was in this situation now. The sad thing is...I ended up crying myself to sleep over it. This absolute fuck up and failure of mine was all I could dwell on, and I actually fell asleep to that misery.

I don't know how long I was out, but considering how groggy I was when I came around, it couldn't have been long. I awoke to the sound of the basement door opening and footsteps trudging down the stairs. Sam appeared at the bottom of the stairs, but he was only wearing his black jeans and his shoes. His boxers and his socks were still on the basement floor, and his black long sleeve was a shredded mess, because I'd cut it off him with a pair of scissors.

I was groggy at first, but seeing him return popped me back into a state of full awareness.

"Oh, thank God!" I choked out. "Please, don't leave...me...here..."

My voice trailed off because of the expression on Sam's slender face. His thin lips were pulled down into a terrible scowl, and there was a fire in his dull-blue eyes, a cold hatred that was impossible to miss. He tromped up to me and gave me the most chilling look, a look that made me freeze in fear.

"Sam?" I asked in a meek voice.

He reached down, undid my handcuffs, and then yanked me up off the bed. I cried out in slight pain as he pulled my arms behind me and then handcuffed me again, this time with my hands behind my back. He pushed me forward toward the stairs, and I found myself being forced up those stairs by the twisting of my arms behind me.

"Ow! That hurts!" I cried out, but I knew I wouldn't receive a response.

Sam pushed open the basement door and forced me out into the kitchen. I stood there in stupid confusion, still naked, still terrified, as he pointed at the white refrigerator door. Upon the fridge was my mother's little writing board, stuck to the door by magnets, something she would write on with a dry-erase marker for handy little notes during the day. It was what was written on there now that gave me pause.

It read: "YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID."

"I...I...I'm sorry, Sam," I stammered out. "I'm sorry. That's not like me. I'm not that kind of person..."

He took a dry washcloth from off the kitchen counter, erased his message, picked up the black dry-erase marker, popped the cap off it, and wrote another message.

It read: "YOU HAVE TO PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID."

"Pay?" I asked. "What? What do you mean 'Pay'?"

He wiped off the board and wrote another message, but this one chilled me to the bone.

It read: "YOU WILL BE PUNISHED."

I studied Sam's narrow face for a glimmer of understanding, but there was nothing but cold rage in his eyes. He looked fully intent on doing something terrible to me, and I did not want to find out what.

"Oh...Oh, please don't," I begged. "Please? I'm not that kind of person, Sam. I don't do things like that...I really don't...I don't know what happened! You have to believe me!"

Sam shook his head no, wiped off the board, and wrote another message.

It read: "YOU WILL NEVER DO IT AGAIN. I'M GOING TO MAKE SURE OF IT."

The blood drained from my face as I read that ominous message. I was shaking now, naked, handcuffed, and shaking in fear in my family's kitchen.

"Wha...What are you going to do?" I asked in a quavering voice.

Sam erased the ominous message and wrote in an even worse one.

It read: "SURGERY."

He walked over to the wooden knife block on the kitchen counter and pulled out the butcher knife. Mom's butcher knife was immaculately clean, sharp, and practically unused, and I panicked at the sight of it.

"Oh, please don't," I begged. "Please, Sam? It won't happen again. I'm not a bad person...I'm not...and...and you're not a bad person, either. I wasn't going to hurt you! I wasn't...I really wasn't going to call the police. I was going to let you go! Please, believe me...Please, Sam? Please?"

Sam took the message board off the fridge along with the marker and washcloth, tucked them under his right arm, held the butcher knife in his right hand, walked forward, and spun me around with his left. He forced me forward toward the living room, but my feet hesitated, and I paid for it. He gave me a hard smack on my bare ass, a bullseye to my right butt cheek. It hurt, actually stung, and I jumped and screeched from the impact of it. Unfortunately, this motivated me to walk forward as Sam guided me across the living room to my parent's bedroom. The lights were on now in the living room and bedroom, though the bedroom light was on before because I'd forgotten to turn it off.

I was terrified. I did not know what Sam was going to do to me, but I got a glimpse of that punishment as we walked into the bedroom. On the wooden floor was a large ceramic bowl filled with water, next to it was the pair of scissors I had used to cut Sam's shirt with, next to that was a sewing kit with needle and thread, and finally there was a large bottle of rubbing alcohol to round off what looked to me to be the perfect recipe for some kind of hideous, incredibly painful torture.

"Wha...What is all that for?" I stammered.

Sam didn't answer me but forced me down on my parents' bed instead. He rolled me from my face down position to a face up one, and the handcuffs binding my wrists dug into the small of my back, causing me to wince in slight pain.

Sam set the butcher knife down on the nightstand next to the bed, wiped off the dry erase-board with the dry washcloth, and wrote another message.

The message read: "YOU WILL BE PUNISHED. YOU WILL NEVER DO THIS AGAIN."

I was in a panic now. I didn't know what was going to happen, so I had to ask.

"What are you going to do to me?" I choked out.

Sam picked up the butcher knife and lowered it to my chest. He gently ran the point along my bare skin starting from just underneath my small brown right nipple. He slid the point across to my left nipple, then slid the point down my bare belly, slid it through the small patch of curly black pubic hair above my bare and bald vulva, and then slid it to hover just above my small brown clit. He gently tapped my clit with the flat of the blade, held the knife up for me to see, and made a slicing motion. He then bent down, put the knife on the floor, and picked up a spool of black thread with a needle already threaded and ready to go. He reached over with his left hand, pinched the bare lips of my vulva shut, and made a threading motion with the needle over it, back and forth, back and forth.

I knew exactly what all of this meant.

"You can't do that, Sam!" I cried out in disbelief. "You can't do that to me!"

He set the needle and thread down on the floor, picked up the message board, and wrote another message.

It read: "IT'S TOO LATE. YOU DID THIS TO YOURSELF."

"No...No, don't..." I begged as tears reached my eyes again. "Don't do this, Sam...Please? Please, don't do this to me...You're a good person, Sam...I know you are..."

He erased his old message and wrote a new one.

This one read: "CLOSE YOUR EYES. YOU DON'T WANT TO WATCH."

He put the message board down and picked up the butcher knife.

I broke down into sobbing tears, begging for him to stop. At this point all of my pride had flown out the window, and I was no longer concerned with saving face.

"Please, don't do this to me!" I begged him in choking tears. "Please, don't! Oh God, please...!"

Sam reached over and closed my eyes for me. I shook from a combination of horror and terror at the same time, babbling uncontrollably anything that came to mind.

"I'm only twenty-one!" I sobbed out, my eyes squeezed shut, hot tears running down my light-brown face. "You can't do this! You can't! I'm only twenty-one! Please don't! I want to fall in love and get married and have kids! Please don't do this to me! Please don't mangle me! I didn't mean to do what I did! You have to believe me! You have to! Please! PLEASE!"

I was shaking uncontrollably as Sam pushed my legs apart, spread my legs wide apart. He was right in one respect...I kept my eyes squeezed shut because I did not want to watch. He spread the bare lips of my vulva with the fingers of his left hand, and I tensed in expectation of a storm of sudden and severe pain like I had never felt before.

Only that pain never arrived. Instead I felt Sam's hot breath on my open pussy, and then his tongue on my clit a moment later. At first I didn't know what was going on, but as his tongue licked up inside my inner lips and swirled around the hole of my vagina, I figured it out. I stopped bawling and just breathed in and out as Sam spread both of my vulval lips open with both hands and slowly licked up and down my inner lips. He gently sucked on my clitoris for a moment, and I sucked in my breath as I got hard under his swirling tongue. I felt myself get wet as Sam licked up into the folds of my clitoral hood.

I opened my eyes in surprise as Sam crawled forward on top of me. He kissed me on the lips, pushed his tongue in my mouth, and suddenly I was tasting the tart olive flavor of my own pussy. He reached up and took my head into his hands, and we kissed like that for at least a minute in loud and smacking relief, a relief that sank through all my tensed muscles until I felt like gel.

He leaned back from me, reached up to my tear strewn face, gave me a gentle smile, and then wiped away some remaining tears.

"Oh, Sam..." I breathed out.

I actually had nothing to say for once.

Sam stood up from the bed, reached down, took off his shoes, pulled off his pants, and stood there naked next to my parents' bed. He grabbed the handcuff keys from the nightstand, reached his arms around me to pull me up to a sitting position, and then undid my cuffs. He tossed the metal bracelets to the floor, pushed me back down on the bed, and straddled me like I had done to him downstairs.

I stared down at his hard, throbbing cock. It was almost seven inches long, somewhat thick, circumcised, with a dark ring underneath the bulbous head where his foreskin had been removed. He rubbed his swollen penis in between my own swollen vulval lips, pushed down on it to rub his own glans along my erect clit.

"Ooooohhhh..." I moaned.

He inserted his throbbing member into my wet and willing hole. I cried out in sheer pleasure as he slid his penis in me up to his balls, and then he pulled me up into his embrace, balancing me on his knees as my legs wrapped around the small of his back, and suddenly we were kissing again, tongues sliding across one another, and the best part about it was that neither one of us was in handcuffs.

He held my narrow waist and lifted me up with the help of his knees, and I found myself sliding up and down his soaking wet cock this way. I was wet like I had never been wet before, and I knew that my fear then my terror and horror followed by this relief had made my body explode with a sexuality I had never experienced before, never even dreamed of. I didn't just want to fuck Sam at that moment. I wanted to be with Sam forever, and I had never had this feeling before. It was incredible.

He bounced me on his lap as we touched foreheads together and grinned at one another.

"You evil little criminal," I breathed out in hushed voice. "You wanted to see me squirm for what I did to you, didn't you?"

Sam gave me the widest grin and then nodded.

"That's funny," I breathed. "Don't ever do that again."

Sam released a sharp breath that I could only assume was a laugh. He pulled me tightly to his bare chest and laid his head on my right shoulder with my head on his right shoulder, our right cheeks pressed together in perfect symmetry as we fucked in perfect harmony for the first time, and I didn't feel a single ounce of shame over that fact...not one.

Sam ran his hands up my bare back and then kissed me again. We kissed for a few seconds before he picked me up and off of his cock. He laid me back down on the bed, slid his cock into my waiting pussy, and then ground into me, ground his pubic bone into my clit and pussy, and oh did it feel good.

"Oh, fucking shit..." I moaned.

He wrapped his arms around my back and kissed into the left side of my neck as he continued to grind into me. I breathed out a loud gasp as he bent down and took my small brown left nipple into his mouth. He sucked hard on it, and I gave out a little gasp with a wince of slight pain. He quickly switched to my right nipple, sucked hard on it for a second, then grasped it lightly with his teeth. He pulled up on it slightly, and though he didn't really bite or injure it, it hurt, and oh did it hurt.

"AHGH!" I cried out.

He spit out my nipple, reached up, and pulled my dark hair so that my head was crooked to my left. I cried out again in slight pain as he nibbled on the lobe of my right ear. He was insatiable now, a wild animal, but it was my fault for turning him on like this, and I knew it.

He pulled out of me and pulled me up to a sitting position. He spun me around and sat me down on his cock, my back to his chest, sliding his penis into my wet pussy yet again. I was on my knees as was he, my legs on the outside of his, but he held my wrists and pulled back on my arms until my chest thrust forward with my back bent, like I was crucified.

"Jesus!" I said, and then I had an existential moment as I thought about the irony in that statement.

He thrust up into me, bouncing me up off his knees, but he didn't let go of my wrists, so my shoulders were pulled back with each thrust. It hurt like hell, but it also gave me a weird sensation between my legs, because my clit was super hard and thrust out from my hood, like I had a tiny penis. Even my nipples were like steel points as I was bounced up and down from the roughest and weirdest sex I'd ever had.

"What the fuck!" I choked out.

But Sam wasn't done with me. Whatever demon I had unleashed in my home, I had unleashed it, and now it was ravishing me, ravishing me in a way that I had never experienced in my young life.

Sam let me go, and I collapsed face first on the bed, still on my knees, but with my bare butt in the air. He reached down and grabbed the entirety of my bare vulva and pulled on the hairy pubic skin above it. I squealed as my pussy was temporarily manhandled in the most literal sense. He then gave me an open-handed smack to my ass, but my butt cheeks were spread, so his fingers smacked right across the V of my large brown anus.

"Fuck!" I swore from that sudden pain.

He pulled me backwards, thrust his right arm across the back of my neck, and put me in a reverse headlock. I was twisted like a pretzel as he pulled on my waist with his left arm, and suddenly I was being fucked in the most awkward way possible.

"What the fuck!" I cried out. "Sam!"

He fucked me this way for a full minute, and it pulled on several back muscles that really weren't meant to be pulled that way. He spun me around after that and had me straddle his knees again, releasing me from the headlock he'd had me in. He moved my hands up to grab his shoulders, draped his left arm around my back, moved his right hand up behind my back, and pulled hard on the back of my hair until I was staring up at the ceiling. He bounced me up and down this way, pulling on my head to crane my neck backwards with each thrusting bounce.