Stolen Pleasures Ch. 01

The backrest of the chair (now the highest point of the contraption), was far enough along her back that he could take hold of her hips.

Raising her eyes to the screen, she could see him position himself behind her. His feet took their place on either side of the camera as he pressed himself up upon her.

She watched as he rubbed himself against her, but dropped her head swiftly. She didn't need her eyes to know that he was fully hard as he ground himself into her. She could feel every inch of his dick as he drew it back and forth along the length of her pussy.

She didn't raise her eyes for some time, in her mind's eye, she could see the soft fabric of her panties pressed between her lips as he rocked his hips. She could feel what he did--feel his hands gripping her sides. Feel him draw himself into a position where his rigid dick began to press into her, despite the double layer of fabric between them.

She couldn't help but glance up. Feeling was one thing, but despite the enormity of her situation, she couldn't help but bear witness to it. She craned her neck up and focused on the fourth panel. She could see how his trousers were tented. How his cock strained them. It stood pointing straight out, and as she watched him, she could see and feel him pressing it forward until the hardened mass forced itself inside her. It was only a few millimetres, a centimetre at most, but she wanted to cry nonetheless.

Though the fabric of her underwear barred his passage, it pressed inside her. That material was no real protection; how long would it be before he tore it away and forced himself inside her?

She couldn't watch anymore. She dropped her head back down and clamped her eyes shut, willing herself to bury deep within and let go of the physical world. To let go of fear and to abandon her shameful arousal.

It didn't work. If she hadn't been able to willingly embrace oblivion when drugged, she couldn't let go now that she was completely aware of everything.

It was odd, really. She'd come here with the certain knowledge that he was going to fuck her. She'd intended to give herself willingly, and even, to be willingly unwilling. But now that she was in that position, she couldn't help but feel sick and afraid.

Giving yourself willingly was one thing. To agree to be taken with the pretence of unwillingness was another. But to be forced, to have that willingness, or willing unwillingness, taken from her was something else entirely. And sedated as she was, she couldn't pin down exactly what level of willingness she was at. Not that it mattered; she possessed no ability to decide.

He let go of her hips and stepped back. That made her eyes immediately dart back to the screen. This time, she looked at the front camera.

With the chair tipped forward, more of the room could be seen. Behind her sat an archway that revealed a long, plain room that went some way back. It was dark, and she could see little. More important was what was revealed in her section of the space.

Behind her and to the side sat a table. A cloth covered it, and the scene reminded her of nothing so much as a torturer's bench. Like in a movie, the cloth would be pulled back to reveal the tools of the trade.

It was no good to agonise over such thoughts, but he had approached it as she watched, and she couldn't help but imagine what was beneath that black covering.

His deft hands took up a corner of the cloth and flicked it back, and though she couldn't see what was uncovered, she strained her eyes for a clue. When he took up a long blade in his hands, she screamed out.

It hadn't occurred to her to do so until then, but she seemed to instinctively know each horror before it came and wanted no more. Her scream continued until she had no breath left. But as soon as she'd drawn in another, she screamed again. He seemed utterly unperturbed and walked towards her with a casual, unconcerned gait. She continued to scream until her cries descended into hysterical weeping.

She felt the cold press of the blade against her ass and expected it to sink into her flesh, to feel the bite of the metal and the warm blood that followed.

It didn't come.

With graceful ease, he slipped the knife between skin and fabric and swiftly cut the sides of her underwear.

The cool rush of air tickled her as he tossed the pretty tatters into the corner.

He explored her with his fingers and eyes, and she watched him through her own, all while tears poured down her cheeks.

With his middle and index fingers, he parted her labia, dipping the tips in slightly so he could open her wide.

Tears streamed as she heard him unzip himself with his spare hand. This was it, and there was nothing she could do.

Nothing protected her now, not even the unsubstantial fabric of her lingerie. And no action of hers could stop him, bound as she was.

He could cram himself to the hilt inside her within seconds, and though she cried, she tried to prepare herself to be penetrated.

But he didn't take his place back behind her; the penetration didn't come. Instead, the sharp point of the blade trailed along her skin and over the rump of her ass as he moved around her. It gathered the fabric of her top, still held in place by the harness straps, as he dragged it along her side. The point rasped its way along the material as he made his way to her front with slow, measured steps.

When he stood before her, he grabbed her hair and dragged her head up so he could look into her bleary-red eyes. And as he did so, a few errant teardrops were shaken from her cheeks to dash the floor beneath her.

She winced and blubbered as he yanked her up and gazed at her tear-streaked face. And having done so, he placed the blade to her cheek and spoke, angling the tip so it pinched into the flesh.

'You don't want me to hurt you, do you?'

'No-o' she cried.

'Then I encourage you to give me no reason to do so. It'd be a shame to have to damage my new toy, but if you think that hurting you is beyond me, I can only say that you will regret such assumptions.'

'I want you to be pretty while I film your holes being fucked and filled, but if you don't think I'll get off to those pretty tits crisscrossed with swipes from this blade, or your cute lips swollen and cut, this beautiful body all battered and bruised... you have not been paying attention. Give me a reason; give me even so much as an inclination that hurting you will make you more pliable, and I will do so.'

'Hurting you would be of great pleasure to me, and I know for a fact that I'm going to hurt this pretty body of yours. I know you, so I reckon you'll even enjoy it, won't you little whore? But if you ever think of hurting me...'

And at this, he pressed the point of the blade into her flesh until it pierced her skin just enough for a tiny droplet of blood to form at its tip.

'I will hurt you in ways that nobody, not the sickest sadist or the most disturbed masochist, could ever find enjoyable. Your last moments will be those of the deepest regret and the utmost pain.'

She swallowed.

She did not know what prompted such an announcement, but her tears had dried and her breath was held deeply. She was frozen. Not with dread or fear like before, but with certainty of his words and the reality of the power he held over her.

With that, he pocketed the blade in his jacket and used his freed hand to pull himself from his zip.

She found herself face-to-face with his dick. It was swollen and thick; the head glistened in the dim light, and sticky pre-cum oozed from the tip.

'I've waited so long to be inside you.' He grunted, and a few swings of his hand slapped the length of his cock against her cheek.

His spare hand gripped the loose curls of her hair again, and this time she raised her head to stop him from dragging her up.

'Open.' He said it flatly. There would be no buildup here.

She'd imagined going down on him in the past; she'd imagined how she'd dress herself prettily and tease him, both with how she looked and how she pleasured him.

She'd imagined kissing the tip, smearing that pre-cum across glossy lips, and running her tongue along the shaft as she met his eyes, pleasing him even as she teased him. But he was not interested in her teasing.

She had barely swallowed down her protests when he forced himself between her parted lips. She clenched her eyelids so that the last tear that had formed in the corner trickled down her cheek, and then she opened wide.

There was little else she could do.

He sighed gruffly and thrust forward, pushing another inch or two inside. Instinctively, she clamped her lips over his shaft.

It might've been her inner slut taking over, but in reality, her mouth was dry with fear. And as he drove himself deeper inside her, she retched. The ooze of pre-cum was not sufficient to lube the way, and she flattened her tongue around the curve of his girth in an effort to coat it in saliva.

He wasted no time in fucking her mouth; the thrusts of his hip started immediately, and he was determined to work himself as deeply inside as he could. Even were her mouth not dry, she would've gagged, for his thrusts pressed inch after inch inside until the fat head of his dick hit her tonsils.

That did it. If nothing else, the gagging and choking filled her mouth with saliva, coating his length as he thrust.

He did not draw out his length fully; each time he pulled back, it was only slightly; a couple of inches remained inside before he thrust himself back into her throat. Before even a minute had passed, he was pumping her as if he had no care in the world.

It didn't seem to matter to him that each thrust made her gag and that her eyes burned and ran as readily as they had when she was crying. His enjoyment was evidenced in his groans of pleasure and how his spare hand wrapped beneath her to paw at her breasts. She was simply left to deal with it as best she could. Tilting her head to an angle where he could glide to the back of her mouth without causing her to retch each time.

Not that it worked. Her throat tickled unpleasantly, and she let saliva spill from her lips so that she didn't choke on it.

Before long, her jaw ached from being stretched open, and the kink in her neck burned from where her head was forced back.

There was a momentary reprieve when he unbuttoned and dropped his pants, freeing the last inches of his dick so that he could cram more of himself inside her. But after that, he forced himself inside her again and went straight back to plunging his dick into her throat.

The tears began to break from her eyelids again, drawn by both emotions and from how he was determined that she take him all.

One of his hands was still wrapped up in her hair, and he kept her head forced up, long past the point where she could do so. He kept her tilted back so that her throat remained open and he could force every bit of himself inside her.

His short thrusts were no longer followed by momentary relief as he drew out. Instead, the momentum was always forward, thrusting, pushing, and cramming himself forward until her nose was pressed against his pubic bone.

Her spit bubbled at the base of his dick, and her desperate breaths broke the tiny spheres of saliva as she began to hyperventilate. Or tried to, for she could barely pull enough air into her lungs to do so; instead, instinctively, she tried to draw breath after breath without effect. It was like being in a vacuum. Her chest heaved, and her diaphragm worked like bellows to drag in any gasp of breath that they could.

Slowly, her eyes began to roll back into her head, and she felt herself becoming faint until the choking became too much. She felt her throat convulsing and did not know how to stop the drool from pouring down it as she gagged.

Panic rose in her as readily as the bile in her throat, and she was ready to pass out. Her head throbbed with her heartbeat, each throb slower than the last, as slowly her heart began to stall in its pumping.

Then, blessedly, he released her.

Time passed as if it had slowed while she watched the glistening length of his shaft pull from her lips in slow motion. And as it did, foamy drool spilled from her mouth to pool on the floor.

She heard him call her a disgusting whore, but she could do little more than desperately draw in ragged breaths. Her nostrils flared as she tried to breathe, more spittle pouring from her mouth to splatter the floor.

She saw tears fall from her cheeks to splash alongside the puddle as yet more ran down from her burning eyes. So desperate was she just to breathe, she paid him no mind as he left her to busy himself around the tray behind her. She concentrated solely on not choking as she purposefully filled her lungs with air, breathing in, releasing, and breathing in again until it became something at least manageable.

But she almost choked on one of her deep breaths of air when she felt the dash of freezing liquid splash against her buttocks and dribble coldly down over her asshole.

He was back at her front seconds later, prompting her to open her mouth again, but bravely she refused, keeping her lips shut. She could still hardly draw in breaths through her swollen throat, and she wheezed whenever she drew too deeply. She couldn't stand to take him inside again.

As had become the norm, his fist closed around her hair, and he crouched before her even as he dragged her head up. Before he spoke, he thrust his arm across his chest and, on the backswing, backhanded her across the cheek so that her lips burst apart and the breath within was expelled.

It was not a light blow but a forceful one, and she swore she could taste the coppery tang of blood in her mouth.

The same hand took her drool-soaked chin and drew her to face him, and she did not resist. Her lips quivered, and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks as she sobbed.

'I'm only going to tell you this once, and whether you take it on board is entirely up to you.' He said softly, his thumb running across her trembling lips.

'Don't you ever fucking deny me. You can't. You're mine now.' And that gentle caress of her lips turned to him, forcing his fingers into her mouth.

'I'm going to use your body however I feel.' He continued, removing his glossy fingers from between her lips and dismissively smearing the drool across her face and went on.

'I'm going to fuck this pretty whore face when it pleases me. I'm going to do whatever I want to you, and you have no power with which to resist me. If you think, even for a second, that defiance will bring you anything but pain, then you've let that lack of oxygen go to your head.'

And with that, he scooped away the spittle that had run from the corner of her mouth and dashed it to the floor before cupping her chin and giving her the briefest and yet deepest look in the eyes she'd ever received.

'Do you understand me?'

She nodded silently as she looked into his dark eyes.

Within seconds, she was looking back at his dick, and with the taste of blood still in her mouth, she took his length back inside.

The queerest thought came over her, and for a second, she considered biting him and dealing pain back to her aggressor. The thought shrivelled and fled from her instantly.

That look had said it all; the words earlier had threatened great consequences, and that blow had spelled it out. It was only a backhand, but with such a controlled opening strike, she could only imagine what he was capable of.

Her eyes glanced to the pocket where his knife rested, and she drew in another shallow breath. She was totally at his mercy, and she felt suddenly and one hundred percent sure that if she didn't want to be hurt again, appeasing him was the way to go.

As he began his thrusts again, she clamped her lips around his dick instead of her teeth and made every effort to please him. She thought only of bringing him off in her mouth, for as soon as he had pressed himself all the way back inside her mouth, he reached over her and began to massage his fingers against her asshole.

Though much of the lube had poured down over her ass to drip from her pussy, he used his fingers to scoop up the remainder and work it into that tight hole. It took him little time to ease it open, wiggling a thick digit inside. Then he worked another inside.

From his vantage point in front of her, he bent his fingers like a hook as he worked them in. Pressing them in until he had forced them to the first knuckle.

She groaned uncomfortably, wishing that more lube had remained or that he had taken more effort to work her up to taking two fingers. But she had realised since waking that he had little interest in her comfort, only his pleasure.

As before, he had thrust himself to the back of her mouth, and she could do little more than clamp her mouth tight over his shaft and suck. Creating a vacuum as before, and using her mouth and lungs like bellows to massage his dick.

She could tell he enjoyed it, for he kept gasping and grunting in surprise. Not that it brought her much relief, for the hornier he got, the more discomfort he brought her. He made mini thrusts with his hips to jerk himself in and out of her mouth as he began to pump his fingers into her ass.

As his pleasure built, she felt him scissoring her open. He pulled his fingers apart until her tight asshole opened, and she felt the cool air rush inside her. At the same moment she moaned uncomfortably and felt her throat begin to convulse again, he staggered back.

A long line of drool strung out before them, and she watched it break and splatter to the floor like the rest. He stood there panting for a few seconds, his dick twitching as her bubbly spittle glinted along the shaft.

'Good girl.' He gasped, and for some twisted reasons that she didn't have the mental space to work through, her stomach fluttered happily. It dropped to the pit of her stomach almost immediately when he pulled the knife back out of his pocket, and it glinted in his hand as he stood there for a moment more and caught his breath.

When his breathing had steadied, he approached her again, taking hold of the sleeves of her ruined top so he could cut the rest away from her body. The sharpness of the blade was illustrated by the ease with which it cut through the fabric; it glided over her skin, and the material parted like smoke as he cut through it. It fell away in tatters, leaving her bra as the last remaining piece of clothing.

This time, when he trailed the blade along her sides as he circled back behind her, the sharp point traced her bare flesh alone. She shivered as the cold metal caressed her body, holding her breath when the slightest movement caused the point to dig into her side.

She heard the knife clatter as he discarded the blade and took his place behind her. Then came the squirt of more lube, but not the cold rush of it pouring over her.

When she felt him slap his dick between her ass cheeks, she registered the silky slickness of his lubed shaft, and didn't need his words to know what was coming next.

'I've wanted to fuck that pretty pussy since the moment I saw it--earlier, in fact, since the moment I saw you.' He murmured as he ran his cock down over her asshole to dip lightly inside her.

'But since you're having some trouble understanding the situation as it stands, where you are, what you are to me, and how deeply you're under my control, I think it's important to impress it upon you.'

And with that, he ran the tip back upwards and began to apply pressure. She felt the fat head pressing against her asshole, and though both she and he were lubed, that tight hole resisted.

'So I'm going to fuck this ass instead, so that you know what you are. A collection of holes for me to use and abuse at my will and entirely for my pleasure.' And with determined pressure, he began to force himself inside her.