Pen Pals

Desperately she fought against his touch, trying to spit the gag from her mouth as she writhed and wriggled. Her hands tried to find the latch of the cuffs, to free herself, her legs kicked and swung trying to get away from him. But he didn't stop. His hand gripped her neck, choking her as the other pulled down her bra, exposing her perfect breasts. 'No, no' she thought 'this can't be happening.' Adrenaline flooded her body, pumped by a heart beating so hard it hurt. She threw her head back hard, hoping to catch him on the chin, but only thumped into his big chest. She tried to pull away again but the hand on her throat held her there, crushing her against him. His hand gripped her breast hard, enjoying the feeling of the firm flesh in his fingers, and he cackled as she squealed, tears welling in her eyes. She lashed out with her foot, and caught him in the shin, causing him to grunt in pain.

As he cursed at her she found the latch of the cuffs with her thumb. With a flick and a pull the cuffs came loose, and her hands shot free. Immediately she reached for his face, and punched, catching him in the corner of the eye and sending him reeling, forcing him to release his grip. She was free, but there was nowhere to go. She was trapped in her own flat. Trapped with this monster. Grace pulled the gag from her mouth, as she spun to face him, messy hair covering her face, an angry snarl on her lips, showing her teeth. His burly frame was between her and the door, so she dived right at him, catching him by surprise. Her fist hit his jaw, and he stumbled backwards.

Before he could regain his senses she clawed him, drawing blood from his cheek. Then she bolted for the door, sprinting across the room. But she didn't get there. Jack quickly darted after her, and before Grace had taken more than one of his long strides a strong arm reached out to grab her by the hair. Grace squealed as his hand wrapped around her curls, and pulled her back towards him, but was she silenced by his palm over her mouth. Again she lashed out at him, swinging, kicking, wriggling, trying anything to get away, but he was ready for it, and her blows were much too weak to hurt him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He snarled, "you're mine. And I'm gonna do what I want with you. And you're going to fucking love it." Each word was like a nail being driven into her brain, making her more and more afraid. She had never felt adrenaline like this before, she was high on the rush. He didn't wait for a reply, instead picking her up, and lifting her small body clean off the ground and over his shoulder. Grace still struggled: kicking and wriggling and lashing out, but it was no good, he wasn't going to let go. He only let her down when he threw her face down onto the bed, and before she could react he dived on her, his knee slamming into her back, his hand pressing into her head.

Quickly he moved as she groaned and struggled, tying her hands to the restraints, before spinning around to tie her feet. Satisfied her limbs were held tight, he replaced the gag in her mouth, making sure it was tight and secure, and stood to admire his prey. He loved what he saw. Grace lay there immobile, her red hair a mess, her back marked bright red, fishnets ripped and torn, her long legs covered in crimson marks. He paced up and down, watching, inspecting, listening to her grunts. For Grace the waiting was the worst part, not knowing what he would do next, what he had planned. As she lay there the adrenaline began to fade, the high turning to exhausted fear, leaving her feeling weak, and in pain. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes, but she blinked hard to clear them. Finally he made his move.

He undid the buckle of his belt, and pulled it free from his jeans. The leather cracked and snapped as he did, and each sound made Grace flinch, and grow more afraid. Taking both ends in one hand he held the leather like a whip, and swung at her with it. With a loud crack it connected with her skin, and she let out a pained cry. He loved that sound, it fueled him, threw petrol on the fire of his sadism. Again he swung, and again. Over and over he hit her, until she was sobbing and squealing into her gag and the bed from her pain. Finally he was done, and stopped to just listen. To soak in the signs of her misery. The more he hurt her, the more she cried, and the more excited he got. He couldn't contain it any longer. Seeing her lying there like that, at his mercy, looking so good, sobbing into her bed, it was too tempting a prize. Dropping the belt with a clatter he began to undo the buttons of his shirt. One at a time he undid them, revealing his muscled chest beneath. Then he slid it off, over his thick arms, and lay it over his victim's head. The black fabric blocked out the light, and his aftershave was all she could smell.

"No, no, please, red, red, don't, please," she begged, helplessly into the fabric.

As Grace begged, Jack climbed over her on the bed, and with 2 strong hands he pulled the tights down, ripping and tearing them in his hunger.

"Please no," she pleaded as his hands tugged at her underwear, struggling to pull it down her spread legs. "No, no, no no no no no, c'mon. Fuck. Jack, stop, please! No, please! Don't!"

Every word she said was more panicked than the last, more scared, more choked by tears, and each one turned him on more and more. Seeing her there like that, stripped, hurt, vulnerable, she was irresistible. Jack's cock was pushing at the fabric of his jeans, desperate to be released as he slid down her underwear, revealing the white skin beneath the black lace. But her legs were too spread to pull them far enough, and even with all his strength he couldn't tear them. His cock would have to wait. Frustrated, Jack climbed off the bed, and marched to the kitchen in search of scissors, or a knife, to cut the fabric. Grace struggled desperately to be free as she heard him throwing open cupboards, and rummaging through drawers, but it was no good, she was tied tight, her legs were almost immobile and the thumbs of her small hands couldn't get near the latch of the cuffs.

'Fuck,' she thought to herself, 'I can't believe this is happening, I can't believe I've been so dumb, let my body get the better of my mind. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!'

The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps cleared all other thoughts from her head and replaced them again with absolute terror. He had found a steak knife, sharp and serrated. It would do, he though, the fabric of her underwear was only thin. Wasting no time he climbed over her once more, and she felt the cold metal of the knife against her skin. The blade was sharp, and hard, catching her with every thrust into the fabric. The stretchy elastic made it difficult to cut, but finally the blade dug in, and slit the waistband, the thin lace all giving away and tearing easily under the strain as it did. This caught him by surprise, and the blade slipped, leaving a slice down Grace's bum and onto her thigh, making her squeal loudly, and cry out. The sting was unbelievable, and she was sure she could feel blood trickling from the wound.

"Please, fuck, stop, stop!" She continued to plead, but still that only excited him. Finally he undid the fly of his jeans, pulling them down, and pulling his serpent from his underwear.

"You won't enjoy this," he laughed as he positioned himself over her, "but I fucking will."

He began to press the head into her, parting her lips slowly as it slid in. It was big, and she was nowhere near ready. Desperately she struggled, trying to get away, to get him off, to keep him out, but it was no good. No matter how much she wriggled, and struggled, tensed and pushed, she couldn't stop him. He was big, and was anything but gentle. Grabbing her roughly by the hips he forced himself into her, the head finally sliding in, making Grace sequel louder than ever before as it stretched her. But he wasn't finished. Slowly he slid his full length in, inch by inch. He was so big, so thick and long. Grace could feel him stretching her, forcing himself in deeper. Every movement was excruciating and she screamed constantly, begging for him to stop, tears streaming down her face carrying makeup with them. She couldn't stop him though, and finally he had forced his whole length into her, it was so big, so thick, she'd never felt anything like it, she was filled completely.

"Fuck, you feel good, slut," he growled as he bottomed out on her, "you've got such a good fucking grip on me." Gripping her hips as tight as he could, he began to thrust, slowly at first, only moving an inch or two one way then the other. Still she fought against it, struggling, pushing, but every way she moved just seemed to press him harder into her, leaving her feel more filled, and in more pain. As he began to steadily thrust with his full length, she realised there was nothing she could do. She was exhausted, she was sore, all of the fight had gone out of her. She was his, at his mercy. Rather than fighting she settled for wriggling, trying to adjust, to find a way to lie that meant he wasn't hurting her, to make it easier to take him.

Immediately he felt the change in her body language,

"Oh what's the matter, whore?" He teased, "given up? Are you giving yourself to me? To be fucked, used, filled with my fat cock?"

"Fuck you" she spat back into her gag, earning her a hard slap on her ass, hard enough to make her squeal as the sting sent sparks around her body, sparks enough to force a tiny involuntarily moan from her lips. She prayed he hadn't heard.

"Oh did you fucking like that, bitch?" He asked, "getting spanked?"

"Fuck y-AHHH!" she exclaimed, getting cut off by another pained moan, as Jack's hand connected again with the red mark on her behind. He pulled away the shirt which had been covering Grace's head, giving her a shock the light flooded her eyes, making her squeal with surprise. Tugging at the knot of in the tie, it came loose, and she spat the makeshift gag from her mouth.

"Fuck you," she cursed at him, but was drowned out be his voice, louder and deeper.

"You fucking love it, don't you? You little slut."

She didn't reply, only whimpered as his hands caressed the red marks they had left, and his cock thrust slowly inside her. Again he hit, much harder. Grace's squeal filled the room, as sparks filled her body. Every touch hurt more than the last... Felt better than the last.

"Get fu-"

SMACK.

"FUCKING ANSWER ME!" the anger in his voice, the volume, the deep bass. They set something inside of her. Her breath hitched, her heart fluttered, shooting sparks forced a long whimper from her lips.

"Yes..." She admitted, "I love it." Another spanking forced another whimper. "Fuck," she moaned.

He could feel her growing more excited with his every touch, every word. Growing wetter, more accepting of his cock. Her squealing was slowly being replaced with soft pants and whimpers and moans, as pleasure mixed with the pain.

"You love my fucking cock too, don't you, slut?"

"I..." She spluttered, not finishing her sentence. The way it filled her, she'd never felt anything like it. It was so big, so thick and hard, stretching her as he thrust it inside her, hitting every sensitive spot, making her wiggle and adjust to take it all.

SMACK. He spanked her again, and she couldn't help but moan.

"Don't you, slut?" He repeated, sharply.

"Yes." She panted.

"Yes what?"

"Yes I love it." As she spoke he began to thrust faster, harder. "I love it. It's so... Big, so thick... I... Fuck... It feels so good. Yes master, I love your cock." 'Master?! what the hell?!', she thought to herself. She never called anyone master, not until they had really earned it. What the hell was he doing to her?!

"Good little slut," he growled into her ear, bending over her. His thrusts settled into a smooth rhythm, his cock filling her, working away inside of her, finding her most sensitive spots, making her squirm and pant and moan. His teeth nibbled at her ear, and she let out another long moan.

"Please... Be gentle... You're so big, and, and, and it's... And it's been a while... You hurt... You hurt... So good... Master" she panted, as she felt his teeth move from her ear, to her neck. They sank in hard, and Grace squealed with the pain. His teeth against her flesh sent lighting bolts down her spine, making her moan and whimper, turning her on like crazy. It was getting to be too much, the pain, the feeling of his fat cock inside of her, the feeling of being utterly dominated, taken, and used. She was getting close. Her heart rate was increasing, her breathing growing faster. Her hips slowly rocked back and forth in time with his movements. Each thrust felt better than the last.

"Fuck," he grunted, "you feel so fucking good. You're such a good little whore."

"Thank you.... Fuck..." she panted, "you're so big... You feel so good... I.... Fuck."

Suddenly his hand moved to her neck, and grabbed tight. Grace let out one last terrified, excited whimper as his grip closed around her throat, cutting everything off. And he began to pound, thrusting into her forcefully, his cock like a piston inside her, pushing her ever closer. Adrenaline was pumping hard, terror and pleasure fought to be the dominant emotion. Pleasure was winning. Her muscles were beginning to tense, subconsciously moving in time with him as he slammed into her. Her head was beginning to go light, the room was beginning to spin. Desperately her heart beat, trying to pump fresh blood to her brain, but it was no good, his grip was too tight. He was attuned to her body, he could feel her heartbeat, hear her attempts at breathing get faster, more desperate. He knew she was close, to cumming and to passing out, but realised the latter would come first. He adjusted his grip, mercifully allowing blood to rush to her brain. The flood of oxygen, endorphins and adrenaline drove her crazy and she let out a long, loud, lustful moan.

And then again he gripped. Squeezing tight. Pulling her into him. The feeling of her pussy was the best he'd ever known, made even better by her struggles, her attempts to force him to stop only made her feel better around his shaft. Soon he began to twitch, the excitement was building inside him, as it was in her. The feeling of his shaft beginning to twitch and pulse was too much for Grace, every thrust was like a lightning storm between her legs. Her heart rate spiked, her breathing quickened. Jack's hand again squeezed tight, denying her her breaths just as she was most desperate for them. It pushed her over the edge. Every muscle in her body tensed, making her convulse, making her shake. A desperate, choking moan escaped her throat through his grip, as her body clamped down on him, making him work hard for every thrust.

"Fuck" he grunted, feeling her orgasm, feeling her grind back at him as her body shook and tensed. "Fuck. Jesus." A spark shot through him too, as if transmitted from her, and he couldn't hold it in any longer. He exploded, still deep inside of her. His cock thrusting as it pumped a big, thick load into her twitching, sensitive hole.

"Fuck, fuck," he panted, at least releasing the grip on Grace's throat. Blood rushed to her brain, her senses came back, her lungs were restocked by deep, groaning pants. She collapsed into the bed, bathing in the afterglow as he pulled out of her.

"Fuck..." She panted back, as he lay down over her, exhausted. She could feel his heart pounding through his chest, hear him breathing close to her ear, and feel his hot, messy, still hard member pushed against her skin.

For a moment they lay silent, both breathing heavily, smiling, enjoying the feeling. And then Grace began to sob, and cry, as she realised what had happened. Guilt washed over her.

'What have I done?' she thought to herself, 'I let him come here, and beat me, the first time we met! That was bad enough! But then... But then... He, he, he took me, he used me, he... Why did I let him? Why didn't I fight more, scream and shout and cry for help. What the fuck is wrong with me?.... It felt so good... The best... Why? Why? Why? Why did it feel good?! Why did I enjoy it?! What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I so sick, so twisted? Why does this keep happening to me, all these bad things? Why I do I let them? Why do... I want them... Crave them... Need them... Fuck... He, he, he came inside me, I can feel it, fuck, God no, Jesus Christ fuck!' The thoughts raced around inside her head, they were driving her insane, making her cry harder and harder, sob louder and louder, tears were pouring down her face, carrying all that was left of her makeup with it. The white sheets were black with her mascara now, her bedding just another thing that was ruined.

Slowly Jack lifted himself from the bed, and wiped his cock on a sheet, before he undid Grace's restraints, freeing her, but still she didn't move. She just lay there, naked, used, full of his cum, too exhausted, afraid, used up to move.

"You're such a good fuck," he growled, admiring his prize as she lay in the bed, crying, slowly curling herself up into a ball. She didn't reply. "Get up." He barked. She didn't move. "Get. The fuck. Up." Still nothing, "NOW!"

His raised voice made her eyes dart in his direction, and she saw him, big, naked, angry, standing over her, scowling. "Get off the fucking bed." He ordered.

Grace tried to move, but she was too weak. Her strength was gone, her body was used up. The adrenaline had faded, leaving behind exhaustion, fear, and guilt. She couldn't move. So instead he picked her up, easily lifting her small frame and carrying her in his arms. He carried her to the bathroom, and placed her in the shower. He helped her stand, supporting her against him as he figured out how to work it, and warm water came pouring out. Slowly, gently he washed her, cleaning her cuts and marks, wiping the makeup from her face, as he held her against his body. The warm water restored her slightly, and she was soon able to support herself, standing as he made sure she was clean, wiping away his load as it dripped out of her, washing away any blood that had leaked from her wounds. Once she was clean he washed himself quickly, as she began to dry and moisturise herself, before he left her to use the toilet, and finish up.

By the time she emerged from the bathroom he was partially covered, wearing his boxers and an unbuttoned shirt, showing off his burly frame and large bulge. It was a good look, she thought, as she hugged the towel close to her body. Slowly she walked to the bed, not daring to look up at him, and slumped down onto the mattress, as he watched. Finally she said something.

"You... You took me, you raped me! What the fuck?!" Her voice was a scream, full of anger and sadness.

His was a bark as he snapped back "And you fucking loved it. Didn't you? You're such a fucked up mess of a whore that you loved it."

His words drew tears from her eyes, tears of anger at her past, and at him. Tears of sadness at what had happened. Tears of guilt, because she knew he was right.

"I did," she whimpered quietly, "you're so big, so strong. You're cruel, horrible, disgusting. You're a fucking evil cunt. You took me, used me, I never stood a chance. And your cock felt so good. I, it, we... i-it was amazing. It was such a rush! Fuck! It felt so good, I want more... Please master... Take your slut. Use me. I'm yours."