The Cabin

I woke to a numb hip and a sore neck. His arm was way too big to serve as a pillow. He was still asleep, so I slowly tried to turn to my other side to stretch my neck and give my hip a break. He grumbled but relaxed his hold to let me move. I curled against his chest and he let out a rumbling sigh as he pulled me in tight again.

"S'it morning?" he asked, sleep thick in his voice.

"Yeah," I whispered, nervous about him waking up. Was he toying with me? He'd said a lot of awful things, but all he had done was hold me to sleep.

He grumbled and shifted again, then let me go and rolled out of bed. "I'm meant to be hunting," he said grumpily, pulling on his boxers. He got up and went down to the bathroom. I got up as well and looked at his open bag, then took a chance. I picked up the t-shirt he had been wearing and pulled it on before going down to wait to use the restroom.

He came out and paused, looking down at me. He said nothing, but he stepped back in and gathered my clothes and carried them out before letting me go in. I sighed, but didn't complain. I did really want my underwear though.

When I came out, he was dumping corned beef hash out of a can into a pan. It was the fourth can he was dumping, the pan was already sizzling with the other three cans. It didn't look appealing, but my stomach growled at the smell.

"Sit," he demanded, motioning at the stools pulled up to the little island.

I sat. He quietly heated up the hash, then sat a plate in front of me.

"Coffee or water?" he asked, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

"Is there cream or sugar?"

"No"

"Water."

He set a glass of water in front of me and then sat next to me to eat. I ate quietly, slowly. I was surprised I was as hungry as I was. I should have been too nervous to eat, but part of me felt too safe to be afraid. I felt like as long as I didn't lie to him, he wasn't actually out to hurt me.

I finished first and got up to wash my plate. When I turned, he was watching me, a considering look on his face. He handed me his plate and I washed it too. He stood and poured himself more coffee as he watched me.

I dried my hands and as soon as I did, he said, "Couch."

I went and sat down, hoping he didn't mean for me to lean over the back of it again. He sat on the other end, facing me, so I guessed I did what he had wanted. My eyes surveyed him again, in nothing but his boxers. He would be a hot guy if he wasn't a giant. "How tall are you?" I asked curiously, before realizing I should be showing any interest, curious or not.

"Six eight."

"Are you a cop?"

"No."

"Are you military?"

"No."

"What do you do?"

"Many things. Are you cold?"

"Yes?" I answered, a little confused. His eyes dropped to my chest and he smirked. I looked down and my nipples were trying to poke through the fabric. I crossed my arms. "It's cold in here. It's cold outside! Aren't you cold?"

"No. Come close, I will warm you," he said, heat in his voice.

Was that a command or an offer? He held an arm open in invitation. Warily, I went to him, laying my head on his chest as he closed his arms around me. He stroked my back a moment until some of the tension drained out of me. "So what do you do, really?" I asked, trying to distract myself from his warm hands and the heat forming between my legs.

"I kill people," he answered, matter-of-factly. "I'm an assassin."

I tensed up, but managed a half laugh. "Am I supposed to guess if you are lying or not?"

"I don't lie," he answered, anger touching his voice.

"Oh," I offered, my heart pounding so hard I knew he must be able to feel it.

"No one has ordered me to kill you, so I do not intend to," he said after a moment. "Relax."

I tried to relax, but my mind was reeling. I knew I should be terrified that he said he killed people, but I was more worried about the fact that he had told me. I knew he was an assassin. He had no intention of letting me go, Monday or ever. I was either going to die, or I was trapped here for the rest of my life.

"Stand up Cass," he demanded. I scrambled up fearfully. He seemed grumpy now and I knew it was because I was still so stiff in his arms. He got up and went upstairs to the loft, then threw down a few blankets and the pillows. "Make a pallet," he called. "Right there in the open space." I quickly did as I was told, then stood to watch him. He was doing something, focusing on what was in his hands, but I could not see it. Finally, he leaned over the bed and tossed a thick rope over the side. He wound it around the rail once, then let out the slack as he walked down the stairs. He tied it off on the bannister. He moved to me and took my arm, pulling me to the hanging rope. He put my arm up high, then slipped one of the loops woven into the end around one wrist, the other loop over my other wrist. I stood like an idiot as he tightened it slightly, then went back to the bannister and pulled up all of the slack. The loops tightened more and he lifted me almost off the ground, my toes scrambling for purchase, then he pulled a slow three inches, making me dangle and spin slowly. I was panicking, tears rolling down my cheeks, but I clenched my teeth, refusing to beg. He tied off the rope, then came back to me, taking me by the waist and lifting me. He pulled a single rope and the loops loosened. He pulled my arms out and set me on the floor. He stared down at me, his look saying it all. That was in store for me if I did not play his game. I knew his game now. He wanted a weekend girlfriend. To snuggle, to be close. Probably also sex. But he didn't want to have to force it, he wanted me to play along. I nodded slightly.

He slid his boxers off and I couldn't help but stare. He hung long, down his thigh, and thick. Heavy. I'd heard 'hung like a horse', but I'd never actually seen a horse. More terrifying, he wasn't hard, not even semi. I looked back up at his face and I knew he could see the terror in my eyes. What did he want? Was I supposed to try and actually put that thing in my mouth?

"Take my shirt off," he demanded, laying down on the pallet, on his back.

I took the shirt off quickly, then started to lay down next to him.

"No. Come stand over the top of my face."

Trembling, I did as I was told, then hoped to god he didn't ask me to do something as horrifying as pee on him.

"Turn," he demanded.

I turned, facing away from him. I looked down and his huge cock was starting to stiffen, starting to get hard.

"Get on your knees, I want your knees on the blankets, but against my shoulders."

I dropped down awkwardly, having to put my hands on his chest to do as he asked. His hands went to my thighs and slid up to my ass, pulling my cheeks apart. I felt my face burning with shame and fear. I could feel his breath on my pussy lips, my legs weren't long enough to hold myself higher off of him. I could feel how wet my slit was already, how excited I was and that was so humiliating. There was no way he could not see it. As if to mock me, he slid a hand around and fingered my slit, sliding it through the wetness, playing in it.

"Lay your head on me and hold on to me," he demanded.

I lay my head on his chest and reached high enough to hold onto his waist. His hands slid down to the backs of my knees and he pulled my legs further apart until my snatch was pressing against his open mouth. I whimpered, but it was anticipation, not fear. His tongue worked along my slit, back and forth slowly as his hands held my hips in a vice grip, keeping me tight against him. He pulled back slightly, settling my clit over his mouth as he licked, flicked and teased with his tongue. He slid one hand around and toyed with my hole, teasing with barely entering. It was maddening. My excitement was building, but I needed more and the teasing was more than I could take. I pushed back into his mouth and finger, wanting more. He growled around my clit and I moaned at the feel of the vibration in his throat. He slid a finger into me and locked on to my clit with an expert motion. I cried out as my hands tried to find something to hold on to. I had fists full of the blankets as his mouth and tongue sent pleasure skyrocketing. His finger sliding into me turned into two and I cried out in pleasure.

I felt something hit his belly above my head and I turned my head to see his huge cock, hard and ready, pointing straight up and bouncing of his stomach as he worked me. There was no way I could reach it with my mouth and I was fairly certain it's girth was too much for my mouth, but I took it in my hands and squeezed and stroked as he worked, bringing me closer and closer. I came with a scream, my legs locking around his head, my face buried in his chest. Wave after wave as I felt myself pulsing and squirting all over him, I didn't think it would end. Nick had never made me cum like that! I collapsed for a moment, then tried to move lower to put my mouth on him.

He didn't give me the chance as he sat up and grabbed me by the throat, flipping me to lay down. He straddled me and laid his fat cock between my breasts and squeezed them around it as he started pumping. I could feel his precum on my neck and I grabbed the head of his cock to stroke in time with his thrusts. He groaned, a deep bass growl as his thrusts became more frantic. He moved suddenly, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back as he shoved the head of his cock into my mouth. No more could be forced in as my jaw was as wide as it would go and teeth scraped against him. He continued stroking and I helped as his cock worked deeper and deeper into my mouth, Panic welled up when he got far enough in to cut off my breathing. I stopped helping him get off and started trying to push his hips back. He shoved harder, forcing his cock in further and one of his hands locked around my jaw to keep me from trying to bite down as his other hand kept stroking. I was trying to scream around the huge appendage now, beating on his hips, but I had no air to scream with. His cock throbbed and I felt hot, thick cum hit the back of my throat. I gagged immediately, but was forced to swallow as he shot again and again. I was starting to see spots, my head throbbing with my pulse as he shoved further in, spending himself down my throat. His groan was euphoric as he tilted his head back and listened to me fighting for air beneath him. He finally pulled back and I sucked in air and coughed and wretched.

"You bring that up, you will eat it off the floor," he growled.

I rolled away, sobbing and curling up, massaging my aching jaw.

"Forty seconds. Will you lie again?" he asked.

"No!" I answered hoarsely.

"Good. We are going to shower. You didn't tell me you were a squirter."

"I... have never done that."

"I like it. Let's go."

He led me to the bathroom and we showered. I felt awkward and upset. It had been nice until the last. Part of me was angry and I wanted to retaliate. Another part of me said that he had told me he was going to do it. Another part said that it had also been a little hot. He washed my hair, his hands oddly gentle for what had just happened. He seemed to enjoy playing with it. More than once he wrapped the length of it around his wrist and then buried his hand in the hair next my scalp and pulled my head back to look up at him. His expression was pleasant as he looked me over. He liked it. The fourth and final time he did it, he bent almost double to kiss me on the mouth, forcing my mouth open. I kissed him back, my hands shooting up to his face to steady myself as he bent me backwards.

When we finished, he carried me out of the shower and toweled me off before drying himself off. He led me back out to the couch and laid down, opening his arms for me. I laid on his chest and let him hold me as he turned on the television. He watched the news, something I had always found boring. Halfway into a report on stock markets, I drifted off. My body was still sore from the three day hike and I had just had the orgasm of my life. I crashed hard.

He woke me when he sat up. He went upstairs and came back down with sleep pants on and tossed me a clean t-shirt. He went to the kitchen and pulled out four cans of beef stew and dumped them into a large pot. After pulling the shirt on, I went to sit on the stool near him, to watch. I wanted to ask more questions, talk to him, try and convince him to let me go once Monday came. I was wracking my brain for something to say, but I was drawing a blank, too skittish.

"You on the pill?" he asked.

"Umm, no. I tried a few different kinds, they never agreed with me, the side effects were too bad. Doctor said it was my size. We used condoms and spermicide."

"Yes or no, Cass," he admonished. "Nothing else? No IUD or patch?"

"No."

"Ever been pregnant?"

"No."

"How long were you with your ex?"

"He isn't my ex."

"How long?"

"Four years now? Five on Christmas. We met at a Christmas thing at the church, his friend..."

"No monologues Cass. You really believe in god?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"You know it's a scam, right? A way to control people with fear and take their money?"

"I know organized religion is shit. Beyond that, I don't know. Theology isn't my thing."

"Do you know what 'succinct' means, Cass?"

"Yes," I answered, feeling my face heat. How was I supposed to talk to him, make him care enough to let me go if I couldn't say more than one word at a time?

"So no cheating. No abortions. You ever lie to your ex about shit?"

"He isn't my ex!"

He slammed a bowl in front of me and leaned close, putting his face in mine. He looked wild with fury. "Who the fuck is he?" he asked dangerously.

"I... I guess he is my ex now," I said quietly, feeling more sick. He wanted to pretend. I would pretend, but I felt like this was going too far.

"He is either your ex, or you have been cheating on him, here with me. Or you going to deny that you have been into it? Deny that you came all over me. Deny that you don't keep looking at me with those eyes that want more? Deny that you haven't enjoyed my arms and haven't thought once about the placeholder you call a boyfriend?"

I paused then. I hadn't thought about Nick. Not unless he had asked about him, and even then it was only in the sense of answering his questions. Even the thought of going back to Nick after this was over didn't sound appealing. I swallowed hard, then nodded. "He is my ex," I said.

He moved back, a satisfied look on his face. He knew I wasn't lying. He sat down next to me to eat.

"You aren't going to let me go, are you?" I asked fearfully.

"I told you I wasn't a liar," he said, scowling at me.

"But either you are lying about not lying... or about being an assassin. You wouldn't tell me that and then let me go?"

"Unless I worked for the government," he answered casually, eating.

"How do you tell when people are lying?" I asked, confused.

He chuckled. "Years of training. Eat, Cass."

I ate, but my mind worked. I finished and went to the sink, cleaning my bowl and the pans. "So you will take me out of here on Monday?" I asked, wanting to hear him say it again.

"If that is what you still want," he answered, setting his empty bowl next to me. I washed it without looking up at him, but he stayed close, hovering over me. "You're size," he began when I finished, taking my arm and leading me back to the couch. "Have doctors said you couldn't have kids?"

"No, but I have never asked. I'm not ready for kids yet. My mom and Grammy were both my size and they had kids. Grammy had eleven, my mom had four."

"They are both gone?"

"Yeah, I only have my father left. My mom got cancer."

He stared at me for a moment, looking me over, considering, then laid back and opened his arms. I went to him and laid on him as he turned the TV on again. He turned me so I was laying on my back in his lap. I could feel his cock against my ass, but it wasn't hard, just there. He turned on a movie, then started playing with my hair again. It felt good. Amazing even.

"I like that," I said softly.

"I like your hair. Not so red that it is too much, but just enough to brighten the brown. So long, and the rolling curls. Not too tight, just waves. It's soft, even though it is thick. I would never have said I had a preference before. I like tits, and legs. I like your hair though. And those tits. Your frame doesn't lend itself to those tits. Are they real?"

"Yes. My Gran on my dad's side... she was heavy up top. Bigger than me."

"She gift you that ass too?"

"I guess. My mom was... small and frail looking. My dad called her his fairy queen."

"She have red hair?"

"Yeah," I answered sadly, thinking about my mom and how much I missed her. She had never cared much for Nick, said he was an off kid. My older brother constantly reminded me of that fact when I brought Nick home.

"Why business?"

I shrugged. "There is no money in art, not unless you have connections and I don't. So I needed something that paid well and wasn't hard. Business."

"What kind of art?"

"Every kind. Painting, sketching, sculpting."

"Your ex liked roleplay. What do you like?"

"I'm not a huge fan of sex really."

"So you don't know what you like. You only know what your ex showed you and you didn't like that."

"I guess that is a fair statement," I answered thoughtfully. If I was admitting things, at least to myself, this man excited me. His command, his surety, his strength, his disdain for all things deceitful. I had never met anyone like him. He seemed dangerous, but he also gave me a sense of safety. He wasn't dangerous to me, only to others. I didn't know why. He had proven he had no qualms scaring me, punishing me, hurting me, even if it wasn't a lot. I knew that he wouldn't actually really hurt me. He may be rough and even smack my bottom, but as long as I did as I had promised and didn't lie, it wouldn't go beyond that. I glanced back at the rope hanging from the loft and shivered slightly.

He followed my gaze and chuckled. "I think you want to find out what that's like," he said, tracing his fingers over my jaw.

I felt myself blush and quickly looked away. "How do you know how to tie knots like that?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't ask me outright, because I wasn't sure of the answer. My mind was imagining all sorts of scenarios and all of them were making me wet.

"Training," he answered huskily. "If I feel you right now, will you be wet, Cass?" he asked, pulling me higher on his chest and pulling his shirt up. "Spread them," he admonished when I started to squeeze my legs together. He slid his fingers down between my legs and laughed into my jaw. "Oh yes, I think you are hoping for a taste of those ropes," he said as his fingers rolled over my still sensitive nub, making me gasp. He gently bit my jaw as his fingers rolled slowly, making me even more wet and full of need to come again. He knew his way around a woman's body, something Nick hadn't learned in four years.This man was very good at this and I let myself roll back against him and relax.

I tensed when he reached down with his free hand and pulled his cock out of his pants, lowering me slightly as he kept working my clit. "Oooh!" I breathed fearfully, tensing up.

"Relax Cass, relax. It won't hurt too bad, or for too long, stay open and relaxed, lay back for me and let yourself open back up."

"It's too big!" I said fearfully.

"Pussies stretch, they are made to do it. I have never once come across a snatch that couldn't take me. Relax. Lay back and let it happen. It will hurt less if you let the pleasure take over."

I was panting fearfully, but I closed my eyes and laid my head back, focusing on the pleasure, trying to relax. "Good girl," he whispered softly as he lowered me more. I felt the head of his cock press against my pussy and I tried to stay relaxed and open, focusing on how good his fingers felt. His other hand spread my lips wide, then worked his cock slightly, getting it wet and lowering me more. The head pushed, but there was still resistance and he spread my lips again. He repeated this several times, spreading me wide, letting a fraction of an inch in, then pushing and stretching, working in slowly, painfully. I bit my lip, but still cried out against it as the pain increased. He stopped a moment, working my clit again, kissing my neck and rolling his thumb over my nipples.