Awake

Author's note: This is a story within a story. It is complete in of itself, but if you're reading the "Changed Girl" series, this story is sort of a bonus feature for chapter 10. -Varian

OOOOO

She resisted waking, but she was cold. And her arm was asleep. She tried to roll over, but something was wrong. Something didn't make sense. The pulling through her arms and torso. The cold pressure on her feet.

Fuck, fuck, she wanted to wake up. Even knowing it was a dream, the way you do, it was too terrifying. She dreaded the next horrible moment her subconscious would conjure. And then, almost as if she'd brought it on with that terrifying moment of self-awareness someone stepped from the pitch of the shadows before her.

She tried to change it. Go somewhere else. In her dreams she did that sometimes. Became conscious of her power to alter the setting, the action, the plot. But nothing was happening.

He came closer. Yes, it was a man. His shape, his walk. A man.

"Good. You're awake."

She tried to shift her stance but her legs wouldn't cooperate.

"Here."

He squatted down and became just a black shape, somewhere between a circle and a square. Then she felt his hands on her ankles, pleasantly warm on her cold skin, and felt the soles of her feet press more firmly to the cold floor.

The black shape rose up before her and turned back into a man.

"You'll be alright in a few minutes. The drugs wear off fast."

She really didn't like this dream. She rarely did this—even scary dreams and sad dreams were like intense alternate realities which she valued, no matter how ugly they got—but now she tried to wake herself up.

"You can hear me alright, can't you?"

"Yes," she heard herself mumble, which was confusing because she hadn't meant to answer.

"Thought so. Your eyesight and your muscle control just take a little longer. You'll be yourself in another minute or two."

His voice was calm. Cool. Detached. She tried to make her eyes focus. Tall. He was tall. Pale. Dark hair. Dark eyes.

Now she felt him against her, and willed her dream not to be a rape. His fingers combed into her hair and he began talking to her in a soft voice.

"In a moment you're going to realize what's going on. And you're going to be scared. So listen to me. I brought you here just for one thing. And when I've done that one thing, I'm going to let you go. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to kill you. Do you understand?"

Now that she was standing and they weren't bearing her weight any longer, her wrists ached. Bending and straightening her elbows she felt the familiar pain of a joint punished by prolonged hyperextension. She felt the man's breathing—warm moist breath in her hair, his chest swelling rhythmically against her.

She was awake.

"Shhhh, shhhhh," the man hissed in her ear, his arms winding around, constricting her, pinning her against his too-hot body as she collapsed in shrieking sobs, once more dangling from the ropes secured to her wrists. "Shhhhh. You won't be hurt. In two or three hours, you'll be back in your bed. I promise."

His anaconda arms slowly released her, and the man stepped a pace away from her. Slowly he began circling her, letting his eyes and his hand wander over her body.

"Please," she sobbed, "please don't do this."

Ceasing to circle his prey, he came to a stop behind her, pressed himself to her, reaching around to cup a breast with one hand while his other slid down against her stomach and curved against her sex.

"I'm sorry, lover. All my life I've wanted to know the feeling of having absolute power over someone as I fucked them. You get to go home after I find out."

Again his hands slipped away as he circled back before her.

"But…you…" she was gulping air through her sobs, "look at you," she choked out, desperate to reason with him, "you don't need to…God, it must be easy for you to…"

"To what? Get laid? Sure, hon', but that's not what this is about." He leaned in close, whispered in her ear, "It's about experiencing something different."

He leaned back an inch or two, took in her look of terror, then looked down at her breasts. She was wearing the little white tank top she'd worn to bed. He hooked his index fingers behind the spaghetti straps and slowly, firmly pulled down, and inch by inch the front of the top sank down, the pale swells of her breasts, her nipples, hard in the cold, coming slowly into view until finally the neckline of the tank top settled under her breasts. She felt more lewdly exposed than if he'd torn her shirt off and left her torso bare.

She thought of biting. Of kicking. Sure she could really hurt him. Make him bleed. Make him scream. But it wouldn't stop him. After, he'd only be angry. She'd still be bound. At his mercy.

His breathing quickened as he looked at her, aroused, it seemed, by her bare breasts, by her tears, her fear. His eyes flickered up and down between her tits and her face as he brought his hands to her, cupping her soft, tender flesh, running his thumbs along the undersides, taunting her, coming close again and again but never touching her nipples. His look of aroused anticipation answering her expression of dread expectation.

"Don't worry, lover. I'm not going to fuck you like a dog on a bitch in heat, all hard and frenzied. I'm going to take my time. Let you really feel everything."

His hands were off her tits now, slinking up under her tank top, slithering over her waist, gliding over her belly, her ribs, up her spine, down again, down beyond the elastic waist of her pajamas, palming her ass, the backs of her thighs, sliding forward, up, his fingertips trilling up over her pelvis, her belly. Touching everywhere, but touching nothing. A kind of vicious promise.

The cold embraced her as he backed off, and she felt her pajamas and underwear sliding down, over her hips, down her thighs, past her knees and calves. He left them heaped around her ankles.

"Please," she sobbed one last, futile time. The way he closed his eyes and sighed, as if her plea had aroused him more than the sight of her naked body, almost made her retch. She didn't beg again.

He locked his determined eyes on hers, and she thought he was going to kiss her, he came in so close, his hot warm breath on her lips. But he just stayed liked that as his two big hands curved around her breasts. This time his thumbs found her nipples, and as he watched her he began rubbing them. She hated that it felt the same, that her body didn't know the difference between this rapist's touch and a lover's. She tried to keep her face blank but she knew he could see that she was feeling. Their panting breaths parried.

His hands drew in, capping the peaks of her breasts, then drew back. He caught her nipples between his fingers, pinched them, soft, then harder, then so hard she whimpered. When he took his hands away her nipples throbbed, hard and full, and she realized with a resentful pang that the throb he'd created in her nipples was reverberating in her sex.

He leaned in, his slightly raspy voice low. "Is that little cunt of yours getting wet?"

Then he pulled back to see the expression on her face. She tried to hide everything--her embarrassment, her hatred, her arousal. Let him. Let him touch her. Rape her. She wasn't going to help him get off by crying and screaming and begging. He could go fuck himself.

"Hmmm?"

He stooped and caught her nipple in his mouth, squeezing her breast with his hand so all the tender flesh was taut against his lips. Her core went hot as he began to suck eagerly at her tit, pulling her throbbing nipple into his mouth and releasing it again and again, her other breast still imprisoned in his other hand, her hard nipple poking out into the cold night air until he turned to it and slid the warm, wet surface of his tongue against it, letting it feel the cold all the more as he went back to suck her other nipple again. Then he straightened up until their eyes were level.

"Let's check on that pussy and see."

One hand went on tormenting her nipple as the other hand abruptly curved against her sex, a finger working its way up, between her lips, seeking her opening. The length of his finger slid unceremoniously into her with mortifying ease.

"Fuck, that's a slick little cunt, lover."

His finger slipped out and he came back into her with two fingers, watching her face the whole time.

"This…sweet…little cunt," he huffed as he banged her…"is gonna feel fucking great…around…my cock…when…I…fuck…you."

His words excited her fear.

"But first, lover, I want to feel your pussy quivering around my fingers as I make you cum."

No way. She wouldn't let him. Fuck him. She'd always had to make it happen, thinking certain things. He couldn't just make her. He'd see.

"I know you don't want that…"

With a sudden, deep thrust the fingers that had been slowly sliding in and out of her wrenched an involuntary gasp from her.

"…that you want to fight me…"

His fingers plunged into her again.

"…but I think…"

As his fingers slipped out of her he dragged his thumb over her clit, and she grunted, angry, desperate.

"…you're going to lose."

He finger fucked her, two digits thrusting in and out hard and deep, his thumb rubbing maddeningly at her clit. Too much. Too fucking much. She hated being touched like that—that concentration of sensation bordering on pain. Let him. Let him fucking hurt her. Better, easier that way. But then, fuck, no, fuck, she was cumming before she even realized. Fuck, cumming hard. Her cunt, her belly, her whole body shuddering around those three hated fingers touching her. She screamed her hate, her anger, her climax, tears streaming down her face.

"Mmmm," he sighed revoltingly, thrusting into her a couple more times, wringing a few more spasms from her quivering body. "Baby likes a good, hard fuck, doesn't she?"

His fingers slid out of her, leaving her throbbing cunt empty.

"You know, lover," he whispered against her ear, "you've got the juiciest little snatch I've ever had."

She looked down and watched as he undid his pants and took out his hard dick, pistoning it in and out of his fist once, leaving it gleaming with her slick juice. The sight of it horrified her. It looked so…meaty. Raw. So revoltingly biological. He took in her look of disgust and smiled.

"My turn."

He took a step toward her and she clenched her jaw, refusing to scream, to give him any more pleasure than he could get from her limp, silent body. It was all she could do.

From the shadows just to the side of her he maneuvered a weird little piece of furniture that made no sense to her until she saw it's mate materialize from the other side of her. What were they? Sawhorses? With leather straps screwed down. He bent down, grabbed her knee and her ankle, and lifted her shin onto the platform, strapping them down. Then he did her other leg.

"Now isn't that a pretty picture?"

She knelt before him, spread wide, her pelvis elevated precisely to the height of his. Sick fucker. He raked his gaze over her, up from her conveniently exposed cunt, over her bared breasts, to her face. He went on watching her as he unhurriedly stripped off his clothes. She hated that his body was young. Strong. Lean. She wanted her disgust to be pure. Total.

Without another word or gesture he stepped between her splayed thighs, took hold of his hard cock, and slid into her.

"Mmmmm," he sighed, "such a warm, close embrace."

Nothing touched except his dick in her cunt as he slid it slowly out then slowly in again. A sickening feeling, that sliding of meat on meat. It was almost better when he put his arms around her and squished her body against his, because it blurred that other feeling.

"Your cunt…" he sighed as he drove his hips between her thighs, "…feels like a tight, wet fist. Pumping my hard cock."

As he thrust into her, again and again, harder, deeper each time, the place where they were filled up with sounds, all the noises ricocheting off the walls she sensed were close, bombarding her ears. His panting. His raspy, grunting panting. The flesh of their sweaty thighs clapping. The wet sound of his cock pistoning in and out of her cunt. Her own ragged breath gusting through her clenched teeth.

He stopped. Leaned back. Looked at her. Still, studying her face for long, silent seconds.

Then, still inside her, he gripped her legs, at the backs of her thighs, just above where her knees were strapped down to those sawhorses, and dragged her and the props forward. Her arms, still tied to something overhead, kept her shoulders back, so now she was forced to lean back. His eyes roamed over her, locking on her tits as he started fucking again. Spread fingers grasped her ass, gripping as he rammed his cock into her again and again, as he bent and took a nipple in his mouth, sucking, gently at first, then nipping, making her whimper when she wanted to be silent, sucking hungrily, making her whine, almost sob as he fucked her.

"Don't cum yet, lover. We're just getting started."

While her rage and indignation burned he descended on her other breast, teasing her nipple with his tongue, slowly circling, prodding, strumming, then finally sucking it between his lips, tugging at it as it hardened in his mouth. Nursing. Suckling. Sending waves of loathsome feeling into her cunt to mingle with the feeling of his reaming cock.

Then his mouth was off her. His gripping hands went soft, caressed her ass, slid over her hips and down the fronts of her thighs as he slipped out of her. Repulsed but compelled, she looked down at his cock, shockingly hard-looking, revoltingly red, shiny with her slick juice.

"Just getting started," he repeated.

He turned his back on her, then slowly stepped away, around the wood prop supporting her right leg, disappearing behind her. She heard herself breathing. And him. Then his hands were on her ankles, dragging her and the wood props backward. Back, back, and inch by inch as her legs slid back, her wrist restraints pulled her torso forward until her chest faced the ground and her ass was suspended between her bound ankles. Oh god. No.

His hands. Exploring her shape. Her contours. Spreading her. Her whole body suddenly rigid. His touch came sliding between.

"Please," she sobbed, breaking her vow of silence. "Please don't."

"But," he pressed himself against her, his sweaty chest and stomach against her sweaty back, his hard-on sliding between her cheeks, "this is my favorite."

He backed off, leaving her hot, sweaty body to the cold air. Then, one hand slid against her waist, down her belly, cupping her sex, a finger or two sliding into her, then back, rubbing her clit, forcing her to writhe involuntarily as his other hand traced the valley of her spine down, down, between her cheeks, until one finger wiggled up against the pucker of her anus and began rubbing her. He reached a little further, stuffed his fingers into her cunt, smearing her slick wetness back, lubing her ass with it, rubbing her as she squirmed, helpless, still teasing her clit as his finger slick from her cunt, taunted her ass, pressing, promising, threatening, and finally pushing slowly inside. Millimeter by millimeter his finger opened her, filled her, driving slowly in to the first knuckle, the second, sliding a little way out, then in again, until the whole length of his finger was in her ass, sliding slowly and minutely in and out, wiggling inside her. He gave her clit a little pat and she shuddered and groaned.

"See? You say you don't want to, and look how much you like it."

He went on fingering her ass.

"Just think how good it's gonna feel when I slip my finger out, and slide my hard cock in."

"I can't," she sobbed, "I can't take it. Please. Even your finger—it's too much."

"Lover. Don't tell me you've never been fucked in the ass before?"

She just cried, saying nothing.

"Really, baby?" he sighed in her ear, pressing himself close. "Not once?"

"No," she finally sobbed, hoping, taking the tiny chance that maybe he'd be a little kind, relent, get off inside her cunt.

He sighed, his hot body trembling against hers, and she knew it was hopeless.

"Don't be afraid, lover. I'll be gentle."

His finger slid out of her, against the grip of her own body which seemed determined to hold him inside. Then she felt him moving against her, his arm holding her waist, his hand and his cock brushing against her thighs. She wished she'd faint, the fear was too much, the pain would be too much. His cock drove into her. Her cunt. Maybe…maybe…relief spilled down her cheeks. But then he pulled out and she felt the pressure of the head of his cock at the tight clench of her ass. Harder and harder, the pressure more and more. Her body denying him, his body refusing to relent.

"Do yourself a favor, lover. Open to me. Let me in. "

Did she do it? A moment later she felt him easing past her tight barrier. The smooth, thick head of his cock dilating her, pushing inside, stretching her. She wanted to be quiet, to deny him everything but the body he controlled, but a little whimper squeaked out of her with every tiny movement of his cock as it drove slowly into her. Deeper and deeper until she was stretched so tight, filled so full she thought her body would come apart. But it wasn't pain.

He drew back, sliding slowly out over a million firing nerves she hadn't known were there, then in again until that too tight, too full feeling was back and she was panting like a caught bird. Slow, slow, he eased himself in and out of the tight grip of her ass, not talking, but softly groaning each time. She felt him shaking and wondered if he was holding back. Drawing it out. Just cum, you fucker.

But he didn't. Instead he curled against her, and with one hand on her stomach and the other on her shoulder, held her to him as he straightened, forcing her into a slight backward arch. His hands slid over her burning, sweaty skin, one curving against her breast, the other gliding over her mound, a finger or two sinking between her lips, into her wet folds.

And as he moved, he touched her. One hand cradling her breast, caressing it, teasing her hard nipple, the other hand working between her legs, fingering her cunt, rubbing her clit as his hips pumped his hard cock slowly, rhythmically in and out of her ass. Now that he was inside her, fucking her, her anxious terror ebbed. The unknown known, the anticipated agony mercifully absent. Now there was only the humiliation of what he was doing to her, and how it felt.

"Don't worry lover. Good as it feels, my cock sheathed so tight in your ass, I can wait. I can hold on until you cum for me one more time."

Fucker! She'd fucking kill him!

His hand drifted across her chest to torment her other breast, pinching her nipple again and again in rhythmic pulses, tugging and squeezing, while below a second finger slid into her slick, swollen cunt. More and more it felt like she was being fucked as his fingers filled her, driving in deep, his hand pressing against her clit with each thrust, his cock pistoning her asshole.

Every exhale came out a whining whimper so she tried to hold her breath, resist everything, hold on until he came. But when she opened her throat to gasp for air she let out a long, desperate moan more damning that her little panting whimpers.

Fucking her harder, more urgently, he groaned in her ear, "You need to cum, don't you, baby?"

He tugged her nipple, gave her clit a frenzied rub, making her practically yelp, unable to bear so much sensation, before sinking his fingers into her pussy again.

"I want you to cum for me."

He was huffing and grunting now as he fucked her. Her body was ready to explode but she strained against it, hating the idea of it, wanting to beat him, deny him.