The Light Between the Trees Ch. 01

"Suck."

I gape up at him, uncomprehending. He slaps my cheek, not hard, but enough to get my attention.

"Suck, bitch."

His hand reaches behind my head, his fingers coiling in my hair, holding me in place. His other hand is open, hovering just on the edge of my vision. I look up, but his eyes are dark and merciless. I need to do what he says, I am no longer calling the shots; I realise that I haven't been since he led me out of the bar, and I don't know why I'm letting him take charge, but he is.

I purse my lips around his shaft, feeling his girth, and I begin to suck. He rocks back and forth, moving faster now.

"There, not so hard was it?"

I let him use me, my wrists twisting uselessly against the leather and a stream of moisture leaking from my pussy. I can't comprehend it, how my body is responding to the utter helplessness of my situation. I don't know how I allowed myself to get here, with a guy I can just order around at work, reduced to being used for his pleasure.

He pulls out, his hand around my throat again, pulling me to my feet. I'm spun around and marched into the living area, pushed forward against the back of a chair so that I double over, my face in the cushion and my backside sticking up in the air, utterly exposed.

I know what's coming next, but it's still a surprise, the savagery with which he enters me, filling my glistening pussy immediately, in a single thrust, burying himself in me. He's bigger than I'm used to, by a long way, and I squeal like a little girl, struggling to accommodate his girth and his length, feeling myself contracting around him involuntarily.

"God, you're so tight, bitch. I love it when you're tight."

I'm not tight, but it makes me wonder about the women he's used to, broken in by him and now able to accommodate him easily.

He doesn't say anything else, he doesn't need to: he's already inside me. He wanted to bend me over the chair, naked, and fuck me and I just let him do it, and now I'm overbalanced, unable to right myself with the weight of his body pressing down on me as he slides inside, helpless. All I can do now is wait for him to have his way. It doesn't even enter my head to say no.

He's big, and the friction of his cock sends shudders through me as he plunges in. I feel him stretching me, and I roll my hips, adjusting the angle of penetration, trying to take him all in. He presses against my cervix, his shaft rubbing against my g-spot. I feel his fingers between my legs, circling my clit, overstimulating me. I'm building up to climax and struggling to breathe as each mighty thrust squeezes the air from my lungs, his body bearing down over me.

He can hear me grunting, I know. My grunting becomes a squeal and he answers by picking up the tempo, swelling inside me until he is absolutely rigid. I can't take it, hovering somewhere on the edge of orgasm, feeling his fingertips playing with my clit as he pounds into me. My insides clench with a sudden, explosive tremor and I'm cumming, over and over, clenching around him as he slides into me.

Travis isn't even close. His hand disappears from between my legs and I feel hands on my hips, holding me in place, pulling me onto him. My walls are spasming, rippling with the aftershocks of my climax, but it doesn't seem to matter to him. Travis needs his own release, and he's using my body to get it. I hear a high keening sound, and I realise it's me, shuddering again as another wave hits me, tipping me over into orgasm again. I have never cum like this, I don't know why it's happening, but from the moment he had me kneeling on the floor with his cock pointed at my mouth, my body has become his plaything. It's like he unlocked a secret switch inside me, turning the woman off and turning the fuck toy on.

I'm lost now, shaking in the tremors of his merciless thrusting, the aftershocks of my orgasm, and then he pulses, thickening enough to nearly split me, and I feel him explode inside me, filling me with his cum. He hasn't used a condom, and somehow that makes it more intense, knowing that I'm being filled without protection. I lie over the back of the chair, my breasts heaving, as he slackens his thrusts, riding me gentler now as he comes down from his climax.

Eventually, he stops and slides out of me, leaving me feeling hollow and used. After his substantial manhood, my pussy feels empty, abandoned. There is a slap on my rear, and then I feel him pulling on my hands, setting me back upright. I teeter as the blood rushes out of my head, suddenly dizzy.

"You look so hot like this," Travis grins, "So much hotter than at work."

His hands grasp my buttocks, squeezing, but I don't say a word.

"You got anywhere to be?"

I swallow, moistening my parched mouth. "No," I mumble.

"Well, into the bedroom, then."

Travis nods to a door behind me, and I turn. He pats me on the bottom. I can feel him leaking out between my legs, and I know I should leave. I need to get my hands free and get my dress on and get through the door. My panties are in his pocket still, but I should just abandon them; I have a feeling that I'm not getting them back anyway. I hear him come up behind me and my body tenses, bracing for his touch.

"Well?" Travis murmurs, close to my ear, "The bed's through there."

I feel degraded, naked and leaking, knowing he can see everything. I'm no longer a work colleague, I'm a body for his pleasure, and he's telling me to go and wait quietly for my next fuck in his bedroom. Burning with humiliation, I put one foot in front of the other and incredibly my feet don't go towards the exit. They betray me, like my body is betraying me, needing to abandon myself to my fate, and I make my way to his bedroom.

"That's it, but just stop there. I have something to ask you."

I freeze and turn around slowly, seeing him smiling at me, still fully clothed with his softening dick hanging out of his zipper.

"Why don't you wear dresses at work? It makes you look so much hotter."

"I, uh, I dunno," I stammer.

I know why. It's because I'm a highly intelligent woman with self-respect who doesn't need to flash thigh in the office to get my way. I'm not there to be ogled, I'm there to be taken seriously. Who the fuck does he think he is?

"Maybe change that, starting Monday. I'd prefer to see you in a skirt."

My eyes go wide, shocked that he's talking to me like that. I'm shocked that I'm not telling him to fuck off. I don't understand it.

"Off you go, make yourself comfortable on the bed. I'll be in there in a minute."

He waves me away and walks into the kitchen, leaving me standing in the hall. I feel impotent, powerless, and so very, very horny. I amaze myself by turning away and walking into his bedroom to wait for him to come back. I sit down on his bed, my arms still tied behind me, flicking my hair from my face, trying to work out what just happened, but deep down I already know.

I could leave. I could go home, or maybe go back to the bar, maybe see who else was still around. But my body is aching for release, as if the three times he's brought me to orgasm are still just the appetisers. I need him to fuck me again, I'm dependent on it.

I need it like air.

---

So, there you are. That's me. Do you want to know more? What do you think?

Do you think I care what you think?

When I tell you what happened to me, will you care? Maybe not. I'll tell you this, though. The world is an averaging engine, the sum total of everyone's random chance. There's no logic to it: trust me, I know. I've been all the way down to the bottom and I'm telling you, there's no big picture, no higher purpose, no grand plan.

No, there's just chaos.

---

[Next chapter: Chloe can't resist as Travis continues to dominate her.

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