The Most Perverted Game

Stretched across the width of the bed, Zarova screamed in impotent rage. Like an animal she kicked her legs and thrashed wildly against her bonds, chafing her wrists but accomplishing nothing.

She tired and grew still. Zarova had been too intent on revenge to bother searching the mansion for clothes. Now, however, she felt her nakedness more acutely than ever.

With the precision of a surgeon, Rainsford bound her ankles to the remaining bedposts, leaving her spread-eagled and immobilized. Then, with deliberate motions, he began to undress, carefully folding each item of clothing as he took it off.

Despite herself Zarova found she was curious to see his naked form. His build was powerful—not the steroid-induced puffiness of a bodybuilder, but the sculpted sinew of someone truly strong. He wore a scattering of scars, most of them old; but the shoulder where she had injured him was a bilious purple color now. She noted with petty satisfaction that his cheek had begun to swell too.

But above all she found her eyes drawn to his penis. Already stony and erect, his was an impressive specimen indeed: long, wide, uncut, with a heavy, dangling ball-sac and dusky red-brown hue. Zarova gulped. She had taken plenty of lovers over the years, but she was quite sure none had been hung like this.

Rainsford rubbed a large glob of petroleum jelly in his hands, as if to warm it, and stroked his shaft a few times until it shed a dull gleam in the tasteful lights of the bedroom. Then he reached his hand in-between her legs. Zarova was helpless to resist.

The man must have paid close attention to her exhibition the day before. Every little trick, every favorite technique that she had revealed then was used against her now. She glared at him, stone-faced, trying to deny him the satisfaction of a reaction. But as he began stroking her with such intimate familiarity, and ever-so-skillfully escalated his pace and intensity, both of them could feel the way her pussy engorged, the way her cunt dripped with arousal. There was no concealing the effect he was having on her.

Zarova fought valiantly, but always the tingling in her crotch grew more urgent, the pounding in her chest more acute. Soon her eyelids closed of their own accord. Her body began to arch and strain against her bonds, no longer in an effort to escape, but as a reflexive expression of the glorious heat and tension building up within. Her pelvis ground back against Rainsford's hand, writhing as if to maneuver his digits inside her. She could feel that her vagina gaped open now—wet, receptive. If only her arms were free, she would thrust her own fingers into her cunt, hard, and find release.

Rainsford understood this perfectly well; however, he had something different in mind. Pulling his hand free, he knelt on the bed between her legs. Then, positioning his massive cock against the entrance to her cunt, he straddled her torso with his arms, pressed his legs against her inner thighs, and began forcing his way up inside her.

Zarova gasped as the ring of her opening, already relaxed with arousal, stretched still further to accommodate his extraordinary girth. And almost instantly her body betrayed her. She had been wound up like a spring, and at the first exploratory lunge of Rainsford's penis, all that energy was released in a split-second. This initial orgasm cascaded through her system like a lightning bolt. Her eyes rolled back in her head; her body spasmed and shook. She was undone. The corner of Rainsford's mouth twitched in a barely perceptible smile, and he bent to whisper in her ear. "My dear, you will always be one of my favorite conquests."

Even as the radiating waves of passion continued to wash over her, Zarova's face burned with shame. To be violated by a man was one thing, but to let him see her taking pleasure from it? She would never have believed it possible. It was a most abject sort of defeat. But she was powerless before the force of her own atavistic response.

Rainsford didn't pause to let her regain her equilibrium. Heedless of her overstimulation, he began thrusting his cock into Zarova, using firm, relentless strokes, each time plunging a little further inside her. Before long he hit bottom, cramming her vagina full, his groin rubbing up against her clitoris. As he did so, a second overwhelming orgasm jolted through her form—this one filling her with sensations that were wet, primitive, earthy. While her brain reeled, unthinking, her thighs tried to twitch closer together, instinctively, despite the cuffs. It was as if her body sought to pin the man there, so very deep within her. As if her she wished to be filled by him forever.

He had no intention of being restrained by her desires, however. He went right on fucking her at his own tempo, deeply, steadily, rhythmically, powerfully. It was just an endless string of orgasms for Zarova now, one after the other, filling her brain with static. She was so wet, so slack, so open, that he met no resistance at all. Her mind wanted it to end, yet her body craved for it to go on and on and on ...

At length Rainsford's jaw hardened. His dark eyes bored into her, his nostrils flared, and his face reddened. He threw back his head, crushed his groin to her pussy, and with a grunt of pure animal triumph he consummated his possession of her.

Zarova knew he was ejaculating inside her. She could feel the heat within her belly as jet after jet of Rainsford's semen coated her cunt and gushed through her cervix. Her body bucked back against him eagerly, the orgasms coming fast and light and prickly now.

On and on he went, flooding her with the contents of his balls. Heedless of her conscious desires, her organs gulped his seed greedily—shunting the man's sperm toward her waiting ovaries, fulfilling their feminine imperative to spark new life into existence. But in her chest, in her spirit, she felt a wilting despair. Rainsford's victory over her was complete. He had picked her out as his prey, decided he was going to fuck her, impregnate her, and that was exactly what he had done. He had taken what he wanted from her, and rearranged her life in the process. She didn't even know his real name.

Gradually the tumult within their bodies subsided. Rainsford had poured a prodigious amount of his seed into her; but finally a moment came when he was spent. Even then, however, he continued thrusting, more gently now. It felt good to Zarova to come down from the knife's-edge of orgasm; and in the afterglow, the tender physicality of their mingled flesh felt exquisite. She was too tired to resist or reproach anymore. She just enjoyed the sensations. She was almost disappointed when he finally withdrew.

Rainsford stood over the woman's weary, spread-eagled form. His weapon of choice still jutted out menacingly at his crotch, red, semi-hard, and dripping slightly. He took a moment to savor the sight of his fallen prey. With her nipples an erect vivid-pink, her pussy inflamed and agape, Zarova made a garish trophy. She was oblivious to him, eyes unfocused, mouth open a crack, lips dry. Her cunt remained dilated; creamy dollops of cum had begun to ooze from it.

"Have some water," Rainsford said. Zarova felt parched; she lifted her head and sipped from the glass he held to her mouth.

"You understand, my dear, this room is wired for video-recording. Innumerable angles and extremely high resolution. In fact, I was hoping you'd pick it for your little ambush—most convenient of you." She turned her face away. "So please don't forget what I said. If the recordings were to get out, you would be reduced to a mere object of pity. Your career would certainly be over. No one wants a leader they've seen tied up, fucked against her will, and impregnated on the internet."

She nodded without looking at him.

"On the other hand," he continued in a gentler tone, "you may find that motherhood suits you more than you expect. I hope you do—in fact I rather think you will. The bond between woman and child is a special gift, and not one to be dismissed lightly."

She didn't know how to respond to that. A part of her simply wanted to scream at him—and, if she were free, to smash his smug, egotistical face as well. But deeper down, her instincts and thoughts and emotions were so confused and jumbled that she honestly didn't know how she felt about the idea of being pregnant. It was all too much for her to take in right now.

"At any rate," Rainsford concluded, "you'll wash up tomorrow morning, rather miraculously, on a beach much closer to civilization. You can explain the baby any way you like. Once our child is born, you'll find that a distant relative you've never heard of before has endowed a tidy trust fund for the tyke. Oh, and I've always been partial to the name Alexander. Or Alexandra. But that decision I leave to you."

As he talked Zarova sensed an unpleasant metallic taste on her tongue, and a dark halo forming around the edges of her vision. The room began to spin. "What was in that glass?" she asked harshly.

"Oh, my dear, just a little something to help you sleep. It has been a pleasure hunting with you Zarova. I'm afraid you will never see me again. But I'll keep an eye on you. And if it's any consolation, you'll always have a little someone to remember me by."

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END

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