u/thatcncmachine

Finally decided to give one of my favorite old scenes the re-write it deserves. Different from my usual, longer build up, but hope someone enjoys it

The glow of your phone is the only thing that illuminates the room as you doomscroll for "just" another five minutes. You know you should put the phone down. To just go to sleep, it's alright late, well, technically early. Then something caught your attention. A posting, interesting enough to make you stop. It was a simple premise, an offer. Light cleaning, some dusting, mopping. Complete with the catch, always a catch. Some vague language that hinted to the real intentions behind it. High pay as long as the outfit is “Light”, “Cute” and “Thin”. Yep, another creep

“That's enough for tonight”

You tell yourself after briefly considering the idea of it. Realizing you’ve hit that point where you're so tired you no longer think rationally. Laughing at the fact that you momentarily considered it. Rolling over and staring at the ceiling, you mulled it over a little more, thinking of your bank account, now in the double digits, rent is due soon… maybe it was worth hearing out. Rolling back over and grabbing the phone, typing out a quick message, deleting it, laughing about the absurdity of the idea. Coming back, typing another and finally throwing the phone away. Pulling the covers up over your head. You need to stop. It’s not like you.

But in the morning, you found yourself still pulled to it. The idea was intriguing, a little provocative in a way that felt good, like an adventure you desperately needed, not a possibly dangerous mistake. It is just cleaning after all. Hell, even the outfit requirement, you have bikinis that show more skin than he was looking for. But the pay, it’s almost a full day's pay for an hour or two. Against your usually better judgment, driven by a lack of funds and stealing yourself, you send a quick message as you hold your breath.

“Hey, still looking?”

What convinced you was the way he responds to your obvious nervousness. Swaying you by suggesting you send his address to a friend, set up a time for them to call you, check in and to send the cavalry if you don’t answer. Encouraging you, he said all the right things to make you feel safe.

You had discussed wearing a small crop top and a skirt, or booty shorts, both fine with you and he gave no preference to either. Not exactly sure why, but you found a top that was a little thinner, enough to leave something for the imagination, but so little that it was fun. Paired with your favorite skirt. Just long enough that if bending over to sweep or mop, there's enough left to the imagination.

But as you were getting ready, for your own personal amusement you thought it may be fun to leave the panties at home, at the time the idea was exciting, exhilarating and so out of character for you that you couldn't help getting a little carried away. Now that you are here, sitting in the driveway, the excitement has turned to panic. The rush of driving here, the idea of cleaning this house with the slim chance of exposing yourself to this stranger is gone now. Pulling up into the driveway, seeing him standing there. It was real now, not some fun game. Leaving you with hands that wouldn't stop shaking as you fumble with the door and finally manage to get yourself out. Taking a moment and several deep breaths, you compose yourself.

You had prepared for a predator. Some creep, gross and disheveled, with crumbs in his beard. An old man that needed some young eye candy to get his thrill. Completely unprepared by this handsome man, maybe early 30’s at most. Polite with kind bright eyes and a disarming half wave. He was not the creepy voyeur you pictured. Just a normal guy with disposable income and an interesting idea. A miscalculation that throws you a little more off balance and a little more on guard, for some reason it would be easier if he was creepy looking, it would at least match what you prepared for.

As you step closer, he greets you with a charming smile. His hair was long, he stood not too tall at about 5 '11, maybe 5' 10. Broad shoulders, he seemed to be in great shape. You even see a flash of a tattoo peeking out from under his shirt as he walks you through the house. Leading you to wonder what it was and how many more there may be.

The nerves are gone now, you feel at ease until he shows you to the closet where he keeps his supplies. No immediate red flags, no bad vibes. You catch him taking a quick glimpse at your chest. The top was thin, sheer and his house was a little cold. Enough that it stiffened your nipples, it would have been all but impossible for him not to notice. The light translucence was a bad idea. You had forgotten how you were dressed until you caught him looking. Laughing, as you remember what you had agreed to, the whole point was to be noticed. Of course he was going to stare, he was paying to stare.

As if attempting not to embarrass you, or maybe he is just embarrassed that you caught him looking, he sums up the tour right there, quickly leaving after pointing to the supplies again, advising he will let you get to work, and to just yell if you need anything. For a quick moment, you notice the flush in his face, maybe he was the one embarrassed. The thought of making this grown man blush was cute, endearing. He wasn’t bad on the eyes and that shyness really looked good on him

Getting started, you find yourself in a rhythm. Every once in a while, you can feel his eyes over you, staring, wanting, burning a hole through your clothes with his eyes when he thinks you are not looking. The excitement grows in you with every glance. Emboldening yourself into going out of the way to give a little show whenever he was within view. Enjoying the power you felt was surprising. You usually aren't one to move like this. Shocking yourself with this unknown strength to walk around a stranger's house, panty-less, breasts on full display, arching your back, moving to puff them out, to show yourself off. But god, does it feel good.

The attention was addictive. Every glance was driving this little fantasy in your head. Swearing he must see you dripping down your own thigh. He would have to be blind not to. You could probably see the glistening shine of your leg from space. You're getting bolder, and with it, a hot flash is hitting your body. For a moment, you wonder if you could sneak off to the washroom, the excitement of getting yourself off in some strangers home, it felt so dirty. You already took a chance today, maybe it won't hurt to take another. Ultimately, you decide against it, leaving you torn between delaying the work so you can keep putting on this show or running straight home and using this memory, this feeling to bring yourself to what you knew would be a life changing orgasm.

Deciding on the latter, you pick up the pace, no longer caring about this job, focused only on the desperate urging between your legs that demands to be satisfied immediately. Otherwise, you may break down right here and now with broom in hand. Overcome by your own ferocious sex drive, that growing itch in your pussy, was screaming to be scratched. You put everything back to where he showed you it belonged. Pausing to take a quick step back, double checking the cash you got up front was still in your purse pocket. You are not sure what's come over you, but you need to get home and work it out.

A long sigh escapes you, both sad its over and loving the excitement this little adventure has brought you. You're ready to leave, to run out the door, praying you can hold it together, you can attack yourself, tease and relieve the aching throb of your clit on the drive home and finish the job when you collapse in bed. The idea sends another immediate shudder, so wild you can feel it through the hairs on your skin. Your clit isn’t just throbbing, it's begun spreading the feeling throughout you, each pulse sending a wave through you, landing in your stomach so hard you're barely able to stand.

So lost in your thoughts you didn't notice he had been walking over to you, jumping as you finally sensed his presence. The small hairs on the back of your neck shooting straight up, snapping you out of it. Startled, turning towards him, about to let him know it's all done, to thank him for the gig and ask when you're needed next. The look on his face tells you something is off. He keeps coming closer, his pace not slowing, as if instead of trying to stop in front of you, he’s trying to pick up the maximum amount of momentum as he reaches you. Standing half a foot away, his hands reach forward, grabbing you and pinning you up against the wall, his hands locking around your forearms, lifting you off the ground as if you were nothing as he pushes you flat against it with a heavy thud.

The size difference was terrifying, you had noticed when you first walked up to him, but it was more apparent now than ever. Usually something you would have subconsciously clocked, seeing that size and naturally keeping a reasonable distance, no matter how kind he was. The most basic method of self preservation. It failed today, the idea of disposable cash and his disarming charm, coupled with that fantasy you had been playing out in your mind had dropped your guard. Unable to speak, small and helpless as he held you firm. Staring at you with the eyes of a man possessed.

“You really thought I hadn’t noticed, didn’t you?”

That voice, its a heavy breathy rasp, each syllable hammers away at the sinking feeling in your chest as it crawls into your ear.

“All that extra effort today… the way you lingered in every doorway, that whoreish arch in your back. Watching you laying it on so thick. I saw you watching, making sure I looked whenever you reached for a shelf. I saw every single moment of it, enjoyed every second of it. More than you can possibly imagine”

Shifting his weight, as he speaks through heavy breathing, pressing his knee into your thigh. He can feel you trembling. Smiling as he enjoys the sight of it.

“You put on one hell of a show for me, didn’t you? Like you were trying to see if I would break. Well congrats, you won. But I think there's still so much for me to see, isn't there?”

Finally in control of yourself again, the shock wears off, replaced by a small amount of adrenaline, but it's pointless. His hands wrap completely around your tiny little arms and he's detained you as if you're nothing. Almost laughing as he reaches for your top and tears it in one quick motion. Your eyes widening in disbelief.

“Get the fuck off me, Ill fucking end you, asshole. You’ll regret this you piece of shit”

Screaming at the top of your lungs, making it clear to him your not to be fucked with. At least, that's what you screamed in your head. Those are the words you wanted to say, knew you say. Should declare at the top of your lungs. Instead, barely rolling off your tongue, a meek little statement.

“Please don’t”

The way it comes out doesn’t even convince yourself. To say the show didn't mean this, that clearly it wasn’t what you meant, it’s not really true.. Instead, your own voice has said what you had been feeling in the depth of your stomach. You had played out this fantasy the entire time, building it up to a point your body, that impulse has taken over. Forcing you to imply what you now needed. Silencing your mind, it's the pulsing, throbbing of your clit that's speaking through you now.

“Ill make you a deal”

Those words dangling some small shred of hope for the last morsel of logical thought being slowly silenced by your libido. Sliding you further up against the wall. Pushing and pining your hands above your head, crushing your chest against it with his own. His knee forces open your legs, spreading them just enough to make you understand that you do not have the body strength to fight him. Forcefully, he brings your hands together, grabbing them both by the wrist with a single large hand, it hurts, and trying to struggle just makes him clamp down on them tighter.

His free hand is grazing down the sides of your face. Making you flinch. The touch, that touch in this moment was more than you can take. Not the disgust you knew you should be feeling. Instead it was a shock of electricity, sending that pulsing sensation deeper, the throbbing, picking up intensity. He’s still moving, slowly, towards the skin at the sides of your breasts, reminding you that he has already exposed you from the neck down. So exposed, his touch is an electric attack against your common sense. His hand continues down to your skirt, pausing for a minute to circle your inner thigh. You're struggling against yourself, forgetting to breathe. Wanting to fight him off while all the while frustrated, hating that his hand, that electric hand, stopped.

“Prove to me you don’t want this. That you don’t want me, right now. Ill stop, ill double your cash and you’ll never see me again”

The way he says it, almost as if he’s laughing, both of you understand you have proven the excitement already. The proof of it had slowly snaked its way to your knees by this point, there hasn’t been a moment from the second you stepped foot into his home it hasn’t been a clear and visible readiness.

The sudden dizzying realization that you were in control sent a shiver down your spine. Unable to react, frozen in place. Not by fear, but the reaction that forced you still. Fight or flight kicked in and you had chosen to freeze even in the midst of pleasure. You can feel the intention in his smile as you do nothing. Still frozen as you feel the jerk of your skirt, thrown up above the waist as he hiked it up in one smooth, fluid motion. Why? Why does that simple act drive you insane?

Slowly, he starts again, heads up your thigh, starting by lightly circling your knee. The feeling, a light tickle makes them quake. Your chest is becoming flush, an agonizing want, making it tight. Continuing upwards with a steady slow pace, his fingers shooting a nonstop tingle up your leg, each slow inch, insatiable. Your breath is ragged, you feel hot. Like you're burning up from the inside out. The intensity, your impatience. It's making you sweat. Your eyes are locked on him, trying to plead him to get to the point. Watching as he tests the waters, waiting for a rebuke that never comes. Heading towards his prize, the one place your mind says you don't want him heading. Knowing that there's no coming back if he reaches. Your body, trembling at the touch, heavily disagreeing with that assessment. Knowing when he reaches you’ll be putty in his hands.

Within seconds, he feels the soaked thighs. The drying proof from mere moments ago that had you ready to run off home. Combined with this flooding rush of want he’s dragging out of you now. It’s this moment of truth and realization that had you both lock your eyes onto each other, bringing forth a gushing rush. Triggered by that cold steely gaze of his. Sharp blue eyes washed over you, seeing through you, bathing you in the first body shaking wave of pleasure. Light electric pins that spread across your skin, making their way down your neck, lighting your nipples on fire and firming your breast, the whole of you now hyper aware of his presence. The feeling hammers away, diving quickly towards the flooding aching of your pussy and coming to a rest in your womb. You no longer want this. You need it, a primal urge to give in to a dominating presence standing before you. It’s becoming a hormonal desperation.

Laughing, with a grin that reaches all the way up to his eyes, that same cute smile you had noticed before coupled with that same flush in his own face, perfectly matching yours. The space between you was static, burning with intensity thick enough to cut, ready to burst in a moment of passion you both held your breath for. Knowing it was coming.

“Look at that”

It's just a murmur, knowing he has you melting already. His bright blue eyes filled with a hunger you have never seen. It’s stirring something in you. Something you're not familiar with, but know that it can only be trouble.

“You can’t even hide it can you? Right there, I know you feel it on your skin. Proof of how much you want this. You're dripping, literally dripping for me. So why still pretend? Why are you still acting like you're not begging for it? Why don’t i see just how much your willing to give”

The betrayal was instant, absolute and mortifying. The way he called you out was a white flag of surrender waived by your common sense. You had never been so turned on, never felt yourself so wet , so acutely aware of your own arousal that you feel every drop in a way you never have before. Almost hypnotized in a daze as he pulled his hand back, showing you his fingers, soaked and glistening.

You couldn't find the words to lie, to dispute or argue. He was right. You didn't want him to stop. You wanted to be taken, to be ruined by him, to be punished for the tease.. Wrecked for the sin of baiting this handsome stranger. That's the background thought that had been running through your mind the entire time. The whole reason you had begun to feel yourself becoming bolder, why you had started putting on that show to begin with. Just not expecting it to truly become real.

“No… we don’t need to pretend”

Again, you want to get a hold of yourself. This mousey little voice was not yours, but the power he somehow held over you made it impossible to speak. His words stole the very air from your lungs. Your mouth was dry from nervousness and the way he still, after all this time kept you pinned and suspended was weakening not just your knees, but had eroded your resolve completely.

“Take me”

The words left your mouth against your will. Your body says what your mind had refused to acknowledge. Less than a whisper, he leans closer, you can feel the warmth of his breath. Smell his cologne, earthy, hints of forest. A manly smell that’s not helping you regain your senses. Instead the combination of his show of force combined with that musky smell of man drives you deeper, further into a desperate urge for him.

“Speak up slut”

He says it so directly. Demanding that you speak clearer, to make it known what you want. The words hit you like a blunt object cementing the fact that you now need him, not want, but completely need him. Leaning forward, noses almost touching. Lips so close to each other that you can feel the buzzing intensity between them. Your mouth is watering, licking your lips, staring at his. Thick, full and inviting, you finally find your voice. Matching the directness, swinging back with a bluntness of your own, defiant now. Your eyes showing him a hunger matching his own.

“I said, stop talking and fucking take me”

The confidence of which you said it surprised even yourself. The whole word froze for just a moment, that record scratch in the movies where everything pauses and the main character explains to those “Who may be wondering how i got myself in this mess”.

The words hung there, in the air between them for a second that was really an agonizing lifetime. Then, shattered. He lunged forward, their mouths crashing together in a fiery, wet kiss that felt less like a loving embrace and more like a declaration of war between superpowers. Their tongues swirling and entangled, desperate with urgency. Trying to reach into each other as if they would both drown if they couldn't get further. His free hand, still slick and dripping with the saturation of your pussy that he had just mocked you with, clamped firmly over your face to tilt back her head and pull her deeper. The scent and taste of you on his skin was a mental overload. A reminder of how quickly and thoroughly he had exposed and melted you. No longer able to help yourself, hips grinding against the knee still lodged between your legs. A wild animalistic, reckless abandon against the hard, firm muscles of his thigh, Needing the friction to soothe the throbbing that was screaming and demanding satisfaction. Finding a rhythm you cry as he tore his mouth from yours. Gasping for air and growling a low threatening moan that vibrated and sent shivers back through your skin. Dropping your wrists in favour of your hips. He seizes you, spinning you around with such effortless power before slamming you, face and chest against the cold wall.

The searing heat, the sweat in his palms, how he was kneading the soft flesh of your hips. You're beyond aching now, arching towards him, trying to wiggle your exposed little ass to the growing erection just as eager to plunge into you as you were readily available to accept it. Feeling his hand moved away, threading through your hair. Grasping, anchoring itself at the base of your skull as he gave a sharp yank, your neck thrown backwards. Locking you in place, ass firmly pressed against the growing, barely constrained bulge in his pants as he bent you, almost unnaturally as he brought your ear to his mouth.

“This is what you’ve done to me, what you’ve made me do”

He took you then, raw, like a man unhinged, driven to desire caused by the flaunting you had dangled in front of him for fun. It wasn’t gentle, there was no hesitation. Only the impact of his body, hard, toned muscle as it slammed into you, feeling the impact sending ripples through your skin. The hand on your waist digging in deeper, leaving marks that would last for days, five finger-tip shaped bruises. Each individual thrust, deep, intentional. The angle makes it feel like it would burst through your pelvis. Swearing you would be able to see it protruding through your skin given the size of him. Reaching back, you are not attempting to struggle, not trying to claw and scratch at him in a desperate attempt to drive him off. You clamped down, digging your nails into his wrists above and below. Locking yourself into place as you rocked back against him. Telling him more, faster, harder without words.

“Oh my fucking god, fuck me. Fuck me. Break me. Fuck that pussy you prick. Take me. ”

Mere moments ago you could barely speak. Fighting so hard to deny yourself the truth of what you had been seeking, you're surprised at the way you scream now. The words leaving your mouth are almost barbaric as you scream, squeal, and demand more from him. You're lost in this now. You no longer sound like yourself. Vulgar statements launched at him, feeling the effect of your words is driving you deeper into madness.

“God, your so fucking tight".

You can hear the strain in his voice. He's pleading for you, the sound of this man struggling against the pleasure. Its too much.

"I can’t hold it. Tell me you want it”

The intensity of it all was an assault to your senses. Hearing the wet, heavy sounds the two of you create. How he has returned every screaming statement with one of his own. That declaration. The grunt before he tells you he’s going to cum. Your arousal dripping, slapping against his thighs and being met in return with the force of a man attempting to bury himself, trying to meet your challenge to break you. Attacking with an ever increasing, relentless pace. Your vision blurs in and out, turning a flash of white as the edges fade to black. The stimulation, the overwhelming sensations headed towards the inevitable peak.

The combination of how quickly he had grabbed you, the reaction of your body, ready and wanting. The hair pull, rough and unwieldy, that bruising steady grip on your waist and that power that came from the movements of a man possessed with desire. Those disgusting words you exchange, that make you wild with each that leaves your lips, with every syllable returning to your ears. It was all too much, pushing you over the edge. Breaking with a ragged scream that tore itself free of your throat. Buckling and spasming under his weight, completely, utterly whisked away to another dimension, as he let go of your scalp and you fell forward, bracing against the wall.

The shift in position allows him to dig deeper, forcibly making you weaker. Your legs are still quivering from the orgasm that had lashed out at you, berating you so fast you couldn’t prepare for it. Seeing you slumped, slowly falling without the strength to brace yourself. He grabbed at your wrists, using them for leverage as he pulled you back, deeper, rolling his hips upwards on every forward thrust, maximizing the depth of penetration. Head rolling back, your eyes soon following as he stole another earth tilting orgasm from your body. Electric, like someone plugged a thousand volts right into your stomach after you ran the boston marathon. Never had it been taken like this. Never had someone claimed you in such a manner that your body reacted in applause, thunderous, glorious applause by way of standing, orgasmic ovation.

After the tremors from that last destructive orgasm, you had felt yourself clamping down, clenching around him as your muscles seemingly attempted to break him. A desperate need to hold him in, to keep him right where he was to not ruin the tempo that brought you that dizzying orgasm. The harder you clamped, the more the throbbing sent shivers. The pulse of your own heartbeat so intense in your clit was a small wave through you, the impact of his strokes a larger one. Stuck in between this onslaught. Drooling, barely able to stand on your own feet. If he let go you know you would now crumple to the floor beneath him.

Now, he was grunting. Inhuman noises as his face buried into the back of your neck. Each sound rattling against your spine as he bit down into your shoulder. Feeling the power behind you. Understanding the unhinged passion you had awakened in him. Driving harder now, his pelvis crashing against your ass as his arms continued to pull you back to him. The impact was bruising as he pulled back his hips, gripping your wrists tighter for one last debilitating stroke. Burying himself to the absolute limits, you feel him bottoming out, crushing your cervix as he drives into you with a force that turns the world a bright flash of white.

"Im cumming, fuck im cumming"

The flood came then, before you could react, before you could fully process what he was saying. An intense sensation that makes you stagger, barely able to contain yourself, as your legs become limp. Thick, pulsing ropes of devastating heat, branding your insides. Filling you, claiming you. Dumping the pent up tension as if aiming for a direct shot to your womb. God, that feeling, unlike any other, steals the last bit that you have left to give as you struggle and wiggle to force him even deeper, needing to catch every drop and unwilling to let go as you grip around him, sealing him within. Hoping he buries just a little deeper, not caring if he tears through your cervix, praying that he does, feeling twitch after twitch of his cock, sending another. Shivers, constant shivers rotating in and out. You need it all as you both slump over and collapse there on the hallway floor.

The drive home was a blur. Nothing but shallow breathing. Some shame, some guilt was there, but it was washed out by extreme and overwhelming confidence. You felt alive. The memory of his hands, the still sore wrists, the way he had looked at you like you were an object he was taking one way or another, made your skin tingle. You had triggered something for yourself, a desperate need in a stranger. You had made a man lose his composure just by walking through his house. You had built up the courage and confidence to bend over and show him that you had walked into his house panty-less and arched your back every time you reached up to dust higher points, hoping he would be looking, drinking you in and in return you had made yourself so desirable that nothing else mattered to this man but his deep need to satisfy himself with what you had.

You felt more attractive, more alive and powerful than you ever had in your whole life. You couldn't stop thinking about the way you fell apart the second he grabbed you. How fast, how effortlessly he had spun you around against that wall and the sound of his zipper that took for an eternity to drop. That had you anticipating the moment he pushed himself into you, to take you. It was powerful.

You swear you can still feel his head parting your lips, stretching you, even now. It keeps replaying over and over in your mind and to make matters worse, every time you replay it, you feel that ache in you again. The empty hollowness deep in your body that’s convincing you to fill it all over again. The soreness, the light sting as the mix of the two of you left flooding out and pooling in the seat of your car, emptying out of you, your free hand instinctively reaching to try and stop the leak, to push it back in, to keep him there. Puffy, swollen and sore, you couldn't care. You need to retain it all.

Your phone rings, your friend calling to check. Answering the phone, still barely able to speak as she checks if you're okay.

“I'm good girl - It went … fine, better than fine…A little rough but…Actually, sorry, let me call you back. I’ll tell you everything later”

It hits you mid answer. In the middle of all of that.. The two of you made quite a mess. Right there in the hallway. Which means… the job really isn't done. You had been hired to clean and instead left this poor man with a mess over his nice floors. You take pride in your work, so you decide to turn around, to go back and finish the job you were hired for.

She had read it over a half a dozen times since receiving it. Her eyes focused heavily on the detailed and clear description of what was to come, She found herself constantly going back, pulling it out and reading it with uninterrupted focus. Each read through brought a shock that bristled her skin. A dread that settled in her stomach, mixing and combining with a heavy excitement that made her throb with a constant heat flushing across her skin.

For months she had existed in the safe bubble of one on one scenes. Finding herself able to let go and enjoy her every desire with a partner that seemed to understand her at the deepest root of her nature. He brought much needed structure, control and freedom to a life that had been so overrun and rife with responsibility. He was the outlet for passion and the one place she found herself able to go without judgment. Now she had been made aware it was graduation day.

He was setting her up for the next big step, taking her from direct training. This next lesson, terrifying and unknown, dragging her from the safe, private walls of her secret life with him and throwing her into the light. Putting her on display for those in his life. Mentally, she had been preparing herself, but it was pointless. No amount of focus, no form of meditation, none of her go to distractions, or usual tricks worked. Her heart was palpitating, increasing pace with every passing thought of what was to come and she could never find a way to fully settle it.

For this next scene, she was to be laid bare. Not just for him as she loved to be, but for others. The thought alone made her feel so exposed, so vulnerable and riddled with fear. Beneath it all, she also found a sharp sense of pride. She had always been self conscious about herself, yet he found her so attractive, so beautiful he deemed her worthy of showing off. As if not doing so was a crime, that she should be shown off to the world. She felt powerful, so confidently sexy as the growing need to be seen overcame those fears each passing moment the day drew closer.

As always, she received detailed instructions. He controlled her outfit for their meetings, slowly stripping away more and more as she left behind her professional, modest persona and replaced it with the ever skimpier clothing he loved. It started with more cleavage, then shorter shorts to reveal more thigh, less fabric in the shirts. Now she wondered why she bothered wearing anything at all as she left her apartment. Dawning the zip up hoodie and a pair of panties he demanded being the only thing she wears, the only thing separating herself from the world. The slight breeze that snaked down the opening of the sweater forcing her nipples erect without warning. Fully realizing, and honestly, hoping, that the entire building caught a glimpse of her well toned ass as she bent over to throw her bag in the backseat of her car.

The differences between her two lives, the transition from responsible adult, to on-call submissive slut always made her weak in the knees at this secret second life of hers. Purposely waiting until she was dressed appropriately to get gas, knowing a slight change in weather would expose her yet again. This woman loved that thought, the other one she was by day would recoil at it.

Pulling into his driveway always brought a tingle down her spine. She had come to equate the sight of his house with memories of experiences previously unknown. A dangerous trap. Every time she visited, she left with new memories, further increasing the excitement. Each step towards the door was drawing those memories out yet again as she unlocked the door to the glass covered storm room, where she started every night,

Within moments of passing through the doorway, she was already in position. He had trained it into her, until she sub-consciously found herself awaiting inspection. Down upon her knees, she unzips the sweater, freeing her chest, looking down and as always, thinking of what she would change about them. Looking around, the entryway always worried and excited her. Glass surrounds it, she could just see over the bottom walls when kneeling. Knowing that if anyone was to walk up, she would be there, as they looked down on her as she was, displayed and trained not to move until he gave permission.

She caught her breath as he opened the door stepping into the space, eyes tracing her from head to toe. That smile whenever he saw her, it screams good girl, it's a sign that he approves of her positioning, it was the kind of validation she began to crave from him, even if not said out loud, it began the familiar rush through her. Already feeling the swelling in her gut that would have her wet before he crossed the room.

His eyes never left her as he moved towards her with that confident stride she found so intimidating, no matter how often she had watched him approach. He always seemed to move effortlessly, unlike her walk riddled with doubt and anxiety, and his eyes always seemed to tear into her, to go through her with a cold appraisal. From his gaze alone she had begun to feel the goosebumps rise on her skin, her senses heightening to a point she swore she felt them each individually.

Standing before her, towering above her small frame, kneeling and wanting already. She whimpers, staring at the floor, she knows better than to look up into his eyes directly without permission. Receiving approval, she looks up, doing her best to give her puppy dog eyes, the ones she uses when she wants something, pointing to his pants.

“Five minutes”

He sighed, almost bothered by the request. She had come to love that, the way he had treated her almost dismissively when she wanted something. She knew it was probably unhealthy, but in her day-to-day life she’s always in charge, always listened to. Here she’s none of that, she barely registers as a person and it drives her wild.

Ecstatic she reaches towards his zipper, running her hands up his leg, her eyes landing on the bulge in his pants. God she wonders why that sight drives her wild, jeans, sweatpants, hard or soft, she’s always loved seeing the bulge in a man's pants. Running her left hand over to grasp and feel him, while her other grabs and pulls down his zipper. Listening to the sound, her eyes widening as she frees her prize.

She loves the look of his cock, the shape of it, the dark colour of his tan skin, the veins that bulged out, showing the fierce and aggressive nature of him. Even the shape of his head seemed perfect to her as she hungrily lowered her mouth to it. Devouring and hoping to hear a faint moan or something that affirms her skills are of standards now. This has become part of her routine. She loves to to consume him down the moment he stands in front of her. She loves feeling it grow, marveling at how much the size changes, how hard it becomes as she swirls it around with her tongue. How quickly it reaches the back of her throat and makes her eyes water before he’s reached a state of full arousal.

She’s been on a mission to learn how to deep throat. It has been... a struggle. It feels like he tears her apart and leaves it sore for days after, even when he’s not trying. Every time she meets him, she practices, waiting for the day she can offer herself to him unrestricted. To feel him go wild, undeterred by concern, knowing she can take it. Every once and a while ducking as she watched another car pass by on the street, reminding her that she is still in the storm room. Stirring more as she wondered if anyone could see them both. Always impressed by how little the thought seemed to bother him, as if he expected the world to see him in control, pleasured with no regard to common decency.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice the five minutes had passed until she felt him grasp her hair and pull her upwards, demanding she rises to her feet. A deep inhale as her airway clears, she watches the saliva that connected her to him, break and come to a rest, stringing out from her lips and landing on her chest. Followed by the string of excitement she had become accustomed to leaving on his floor in the entryway, slick, sticky against her thighs. She swears at some point, even feeling his cock fill her mouth had become a way to derive pleasure in itself.

Leading her through the doorway, into the main entrance and straight to the dark, wood, table centered in the living room. He laid her down, the cool firm feel of the wood imbues the awareness of what she was doing. Bringing back the flashes of his words, explaining her role in tonight's "performance". Making her squirm and wish she could disappear into the grains and hide herself away. Instead, he worked with the same efficiency he always had. Binding her arms to her side, locking her in place. Feeling herself being slid into position, her body being dragged until her head dangled off the edge, turning the world upside down. The blood rushing to her brain, feeling each beat of her heart pumping blood to both ends. The rhythmic pulse that seemed to flood towards her clit and her brain all at once. She was positioned long before she could overthink.

Locking her into place, he moves to her legs next. Pinning them flat, spread to the corners of the table, just wide enough to make sure she was open to all and vulnerable, exposed, just as he forewarned. The guests hadn't arrived yet but the shame and embarrassment of it all was leaving a clear sign. Already slick, her arousal was clearly visible. The shame was literally dripping out of her now.

Then the senses came next. The blindfold slipped over, the odd angle of her head allowing light in from just under the nose. Blinding her if she tried to look down as it focused the beam against the dark contrast. Next the headphones. He loved these. She has become obsessed with it herself. Having basic sense taken away had become another thing that made her insane. No sight, no sound, no ability to move or touch, she was unaware of the world around her and screaming internally that she wished there was more to take. The loss of them always stretched and melted away her sense of time. Seconds turning into minutes, the fabric of the blindfold moving against her skin sent vibrations through her skull that sounded like a roar through the headphones only to be drowned out by the white noise that would be on a loop.

Lastly, an ice cold sensation of metal. A large ring was placed in her mouth. Biting down she felt her teeth outmatched as he locked the leather strap around her head. Already she could feel the spit pooling at the back of her throat, drifting towards the roof of her mouth as her head hung upside down. Experience had taught her that these ring gags would quickly dry out her mouth or leave her suffocating in her own drool. Either gasping for liquid as her tongue struggled and dried or feeling as if she was drowning in her own spit. There never seemed to be an in between.

Her skin was hyper sensitive now. Other senses erased, touch to her body became acutely intense. First the weight, a heavy ceramic bowl. Cool to the touch. Probably full of chips, placed on her lower abdomen, just below the belly button at the dip in her waist. Instinctively the muscles in her core focused, tensed and twisted to keep it balanced. She knew her role. Each new plate and dish, forcing her to find uncomfortable balance, knowing that a single tremor through her body, one wrong move would send something clattering on the floor. Bringing punishment that she admittedly, craved just as much as she feared.

The change in the room was clear. Long before she was touched, her skin, her sense of touch now intently focused could feel the breeze enter as the door opened and invited the first guest in. In her current state, she could feel every step they made through the house as the vibration against the floorboard came straight up and through the table, sending each jolt directly into her pussy, permeating down to her pelvic bone. A warning that the show was starting. She could feel the steps and it gave her another tingle the carried through the hard wood. Feeling the sheer number of men now surrounding her, knowing they were gazing, taking in the sight of her before them. Her nipples reacted, she could feel them harden, pointing and screaming for them to look in their direction.

As the steps seemed to circle around to her left, she assumed they were now comfortable on the couch, it should be around the time that the game starts, at least she thinks. The white noise is disruptive to her thoughts and she’s struggling to stay focused on anything but the sensation now. She felt the first shift of weight, someone was reaching into a bowl, eating straight from her nude body. A small act, but enough to make her jump as the changing pressure shifted unpredictably. Another change, higher, near her ribs under her breast, another person grabbing from a different tray. She had to focus now, can’t let them distract and allow her to let anything slide off. The white noise, deafening was making focus hard.

Then a quick shock to her sense made her body jump, the cold, terrible cold and cool drops of condensation. A beer bottle, someone, some fiendish jerk had placed it right against her midriff, the droplets falling and pooling inter her belly button. Her reflective twitch almost sent something flying. Panic settles heavy in her chest, reacting, she overcorrected, barely managing to twist her body , hips dropping low to the left, chest arching and moving right, it took everything to keep things in place. Nothing had fallen, but it was apparent they would be working hard to force her failure.

Her body, loosing track of her mind under siege by the noise, had made itself laser focused on keeping things in place. Her ability to think of anything else, the complicated mix of white noise badgering her mind combined with the constant flow of blood to her head had erased any thoughts. Divulging into a living, breathing table that was the only thing she was. A creature of perfect balance. Still tense and focused even as the snacking slowed, her body stayed ready expecting it to be another ploy to catch her off balance.

Instead, the reality of the second act of her part in this show came quickly. Fingers grazed the folds of her lips, becoming glazed by her arousal, as they traced the length of her, around her thigh and circling back again. Rocketing her hips upwards as the sudden urge to force the fingers back down and into her makes her forget the rope that held her in place slamming her movement to a stop. The hand didn't notice, or more likely care about her struggle as it continued to tease and trace. Forcing a shudder from her body and a moan like noise that tried to escape her mouth, hampered by the steel ring that had actively drying out her tongue and pooling saliva between her gums. A fact she hadn’t noticed until now, only becoming aware as the now dry metal peeled from her lower lip, gravity stealing what little moisture it had left in it towards the roof of her mouth instead.

Another hand, this one large, calloused. Reached out and groped at her breast. Squeezing with an almost possessive kind of firmness. Rough and enjoyable. Another whimper. Another reminder that she couldn’t speak against the metal vibrating her teeth now that they had forced her vocal. Next came a slap, a third hand landed against the soft flesh of the upheld breast. Another jolt rings through her body followed by the crushing restraint of the rope stopping her from reacting. God, they came out from every angle.

Fourth hand landed a direct flick of her clit. That was too much, it sent a painful quiver throughout her body before the electric sensation of it tracing around and teasing her clit. Coming just close enough to steal her breath away. A fifth finger landed now. Not bothering with the tease, pushing past her lips and forcing itself deep within her. This combination was too much. Robbed of all sense and thought, hands continued to assault her body. She was struggling against it all, too many coming all at once, this much focus on her was an overwhelming form of pleasure that was going to break her. She was convulsing, shivering and trying to reach all of them at once. Her hips trying to force the hand within her deeper, her chest hoping to be grabbed harder, trying to mentally project the attention to her nipple it craved. Her left side is trying to provide more surface area to the hand that slapped away. All the while the jerk in the middle traced the sensitive side of her waist, circling up and down, teasing and tracing.

She was at the tipping point. It was all building to an earth shattering singular moment created from all the attention, the competing types of pleasure and impact, her body was welling with pleasure ready to explode outwards. Just then something warm and blunt hit her tongue. A cock, thick, heavy and insistent slipping through the ring and hitting the back of her throat.

That second was the end. She screamed as her throat was blocked. Feeling herself used so completely, by the throat, by the fingers that wouldn't bury themselves deep enough in her pussy. The never ending slaps and the massive rough hand still tugging at her breast. She violently exploded then and there. The shock rolled through her to the end of her fingertips before rolling back inwards to the pit of her stomach before exploding outwards yet again as they continued their punishment of her poor little body through it. Ensuring that the sensation would never stop, nothing more than a communal resource.

Another hand appeared out of nowhere, she had no idea how many had joined this parade of non stop attackers but the realization of that last hand's intent was a new factor that started another wave of pleasure. This new hand landed under the hand circling and teasing her clit, under the second hand inside her, curled upwards and hammering in and out, three hands now existed between her legs, fighting for her attention. This one collects the constant flow of creamy grool extruding from her at Niagara-esque volume and circling it around her ass, using her own arousal to lube and penetrate. Pushing every so slightly more before collecting and repeating the process, trying to push past the tight clenching barrier she was desperately clinging to.

Unfortunately she couldn’t continue to tense. The onslaught didn't allow it. She’s simultaneously trying to run from the anal assault while also trying to rock deeper into the main finger buried within her pussy that just won't reach where she demands. Her body is in a constant state of tension followed by deep relaxation. The sharp sting as it plunged into her without remorse, as she swears the finger now deep and suddenly in her ass makes contact through her walls with the one aggressively attacking her g-spot. The pressure released itself in that brief second. Poured over her like a damn that finally gave way to its crumbling foundation. The feeling drove her somehow upwards and downwards, left and right, sending her uncontrollable reaction in all and opposing directions, as the muscles disagreed on where to go. It was so violent she could feel the rope burning into her skin as even it now struggled to restrain her throws. The shaking caused herself to drive deeper into the cock in her throat. She had never felt a sense of complete and total fullness like this and it caused another heavy reaction that rocked her in a tidal wave she couldn’t handle.

She laid there as they rotated places. Setting up a circuit and swapping their positions out as they each lined up. The punishment began again. Feeling various parts empty as they swapped, only to quickly be filled and replaced by another. She got into a rhythm here. Lost in a fog and wondrous pain based pleasure derived from the constant overstimulation. She was static, an object and target of all of their desire, of which they had every intention to ruin, to break. The burning of her throat soothed only by each twitch and spasm of warm cum shot by the next friend's turn, before burning its way to her stomach as she was forced to swallow upside down.

They each cycled through until she was left limp and exhausted. Until she found herself shuddering and unable to breathe. The drool from her mouth, bruised and sore from the constant swapping of sizes and lengths. Diluted and mixed with how ever many loads she’s swallowed, pours down her face with it. leaving a pool on the floor beneath her head equal in size to the mess between her legs, now a river leaking down the sides of the table.

She had never felt so thoroughly used, so extraordinarily powerful in her entire life, never so thankful for the escape as she locked the feeling of the cold table against her back deep into a gallery of memories, filed away for the next time she pulled into his driveway. She knew she would be removing PIV and PIA from her group limits.

Part 2 to Broken by Choice. Just a small prelude building up to the first weekend she spent with him coming in part's 3 through 5. Read part one here

It's been a week since she met the man that changed her life. The deep purple bruises on her thighs have turned almost a sickly yellow. A map of every point his hands and fingers had groped, grappled and forced her into the dirt. This part, she hadn't thought through as much. Healing. It was slow, itchy and painful. Yet a reminder of the most exciting moment of her life. Each moment of soreness served as a visceral and tactile reminder of what she had let happen, the culmination of a fantasy a lifetime in the making. His presence was always with her. At work, some people noticed but never asked. People never really do. The stares bring a shy quiet smile and nod that set her panties on fire, while her mind screamed that they knew. She couldn't escape the deep seated embarrassment and could not run from the aching that yearned to see him again.

It was never supposed to be like this. She just wanted to scratch that itch. Live out a fantasy that had plagued her mind for years. In that moment she had said she wanted to see him again, he had followed up, checking in the days after to ensure that she was okay. It was sweet, unexpected. They talked about new ideas, of boundaries as casually as she talked to friends about lunch plans. He was complicated to her. He would confirm that the swelling had gone down in the same breath that he would discuss methods to gag her that had never crossed her mind. To him, there was no separation between the guy genuinely concerned about her wellbeing and the shadow that flew out and tackled her into the ground. She was fascinated by how he could be someone so concerned about her safety and mental wellbeing while remembering the man that had laughed off all attempts to fight him off with all her strength.

Everyday life has now become the real lie. Floating through this now distant world as she simply existed, waiting to see him again. She had promised that he would clear out the weekend. Well, she promised it to herself really. He was just happy to accommodate. The wait had been torture. Sometimes a glimpse of a tree would trigger a memory of her on her back, staring upwards. Washing dishes she found herself drifting back into the feeling of absolute and complete helplessness she had felt as he had twitched and flooded her. Even grocery shopping had become a test, the sudden hot dampness causing discomfort in her panties as she grabbed an item on the shelf Picturing the size of his hands grabbing her wrists, wrapping around them as easily as she held this bottle. That one night meant to live out a fantasy was developing into an addiction, and she was desperate for her next fix. Desperate to feel that power against her again. Desperate to let go and give in, just once more.

Finally, it was time. Her heart went back to a familiar state of panic, beating, forcing blood and adrenaline through her veins. The shame that, previously, had encompassed her every thought as she stood in this exact spot a week ago was gone. Replacing it was anticipation, excitement. Her ribs felt tight, she was breathing so hard, not out of concern, but the sharp shallow breathing of a woman drenched with desire, who had spent weeks teased by bruises and conversations that would not let her forget.

She was not afraid of these woods anymore, the internal struggle was gone. Now, she was afraid of herself. She was afraid that now, if she took these steps, if she moved forward as she had the first time, she would never be satisfied again. No longer content with the life she had before he had overturned it all. Those concerns silenced by the aching low in her stomach, the void between her legs that was demanding to be filled again. The air was cold against her legs. She had strategically decided on a dress this time, something to better cover her up at the end. A lesson now learned from experience. But right now it was just leaving her exposed and that was sending yet another shiver down her spine. Feeling the breeze brushing against her thighs she understood that she was already soaked. While she had been focused in her head, her body had started without her. Ready, wanting, needing this. She could feel it cooling against her thighs while the heat radiating from her panties was unbothered by the breeze, defying it.

That first step, that first crunch of gravel, again brought back more flashbacks. Still sounded like a gunshot to her, she wondered if she would ever get past those first momentary jitters. The hollow feeling in her chest as she moved forward towards tonight's fate. She had expected time, that same slow anticipation from last time. How the different feelings had come to her as she waited and wondered when he would show. Letting her nerves soothe themselves over.

Instead, he appeared. Quickly, like a ghost in the dark. Not even ten steps past the metal barriers that marked the start of the trail. One of those massive hands had wrapped around and smothered her mouth. The other wrapped itself around her, pinning her arms to her side. He enveloped her whole. Frozen she could only shudder as it had been one thing to think about his power, but feeling it again sent her body into a reaction, an instant reminder of the force that had made her fade out and see stars before. Almost buckling right there from the thought.

"I knew you'd be back"

He growled into her ears, a low mocking tone, the heat of his breath dampening the back of her neck.

"Women like you always come back, you scream for it."

Those words, discussed and scripted ahead of time, but delivered with that tone, with the kind of conviction that she knew he could follow through on. Another shockwave rocked her body hard. A foot at the back of her knee sent her downwards, a well placed hand in the middle of her shoulders as fell pushed her forward. This time she wasn’t wrestled to the ground, she was sent there effortlessly. Smoothly, like he had done this a million times. The ground scraped against her skin, she knew this would leave another mark, she could feel the gravel on her face. She tried to reach up to wipe it away, only to be stopped by the cold, heavy snap of wrist cuffs locking her hands behind her back.

He never gave her time to struggle this time around. It had all happened so quickly she never had a chance to react. Just lifted her and slung her over his shoulders as easily as a bag of groceries. The blood rushed to her head, her heart had already been working overtime before she stepped out of the car, now it was loud enough to hear in her ears. Her dress, that small little thing she picked out for tonight, had fallen and hiked up around her waist, baring it all to the night air.

Smack.

A massive paw landed a heavy stinging blow to her cheek. Immediately feeling the welt it left

"Keep quiet,"

He commanded. Making the direction clear and to leave no doubt, a second, equally painful slap landed on the other side. She jumped and squirmed, but he simply squeezed her harder against his shoulder, the pain killing the fight instantly.

He’s casual as he turns her around, she's watching the ground pass, feeling the heel of his boot kicking dirt up towards her face as he whisks her back to his truck. She twisted quickly to the side, feeling as if she might slide right off, as he turned to open the door, taking care not to smash it against her legs. There's a sense of momentary weightlessness that drops the pit of her stomach as he flips her into the backseat with the same kind of jarring force she remembers feeling from the Drop-zone at the fair.

The impact into the soft cushioned seats does nothing to spare her from having the wind knocked clear from her lungs. Arching her back and trying to gasp for air, he gives her no time as his hands reach up to her hips, grabbing the front and snapping her panties clean off of her skin, digging into the skin before they tear, all done in such a smooth single motion. Another mark for later. She yelped, loud, sharp sound silenced instantly as he pinched the sides of her face, forcing open her mouth and shoving the soaking fabric of what used to be her panties into her mouth. Silencing her, gagging her with the proof of her arousal at the treatment. She can taste herself, smell it. It was so saturated that for a split second she didn't know if it was saliva or herself that was dripping down her throat now. Leaving her scrambling to remember to breathe through her nose. Not to suck and choke on her panties.

Then, with a final and aggressively violent tug, he pulls on the straps of her dress. Pulling it down towards him in a forceful motion the straps snap. Leaving her exposed, cuffed and gagging on herself. He digs his fingers into her skin, not enough to break, but enough to make it clear he was dragging those massive hands downwards. Jolts of pain and pleasure ringing out as he grazes a few lingering bruises. She’s twisting, struggling as her hands still bound are useless. She can do nothing as he drags those paws down towards his gift. Electricity surges through her as he reaches and flicks her clit sending another reaction through her body, setting the nerves again on fire. Grabbing her ankle, he pulls something out from under the seat. A bar. One end has a cuff that he’s locking to her ankle now. Followed by the other. She’s struggling for balance as her body is twisted, laying awkwardly with no way to use her feet to prop herself up. Both legs now forcibly spread apart at shoulder distance, there's no modesty left for her.

He’s paused for a moment, staring at her. The same way he did at the end of the first meeting. Drinking her in. Unable to tell if he is trying to hold back or just enjoying the pathetic helpless display that so willingly crawled back to him. That shamelessly asked him to go further this time. Either way, those eyes staring, raking over her body are giving her an earth shattering feeling of embarrassment that’s stirring more inside of her again. The degradation of it all is euphoric. She had so long focused on the physical aspects of her fantasy that she never thought about the mental, the playful side and he was mastering it. Forcing her into a primal level of arousal with barely a single touch. He’s evil in ways she had never thought she needed.

He laughs as notices she's already leaving a rapidly growing spot in the seat cushions as he steps back to close the door. That laugh. It’s done it again, the way he mocks her, she can’t understand the feelings it stirs in her, why she gets weaker with every word. He’s making her learn that the humiliation is just as intense for her as the taking. He’s breaking her down and forcing her to realize things about herself that even she wasn’t aware of. Worse more, she is falling into it. Loving it, hating herself for it.

As the door slammed, she could hear him walk around. She begins to scream, what little she can with her mouth full and the fear of sucking in the fabric, blocking her airway. She tries again louder as the driver's side door opens and the truck's weight shifts as he settles into the driver's seat. He had promised her that he would set things up so she could scream and fight all she wants. She failed to fight this time, frozen by the sudden appearance. She sure as hell wouldn’t forget to scream.

"Scream all you want"

His voice carried none of the care and warmth of their texts. This was the man in the shadows. The other guy won't be seen again until the morning.

"No one is going to hear you. Scream louder"

That same mocking tone from when he surprised her at the start of the trail. God she loves the timbre of his voice, how dedicated he becomes to her fantasy. She wants him to say more. Even as she struggles in the back, pretending, lost in her role in this little play she just wants to hear him say more.

Forced out of her thoughts, her ears are assaulted when he turns on the radio, already having already set it to full blast, drowning out her screams. She can vaguely see the low blue light of his phone on the ceiling as he searched for a song. She instantly recognized it. It was her favourite song. The one she had mentioned listening to years ago when she first discovered the book that made her so interested in all of this, the one she had begun listening to again after their first meeting. She had mentioned it casually. He had taken it, filed it away and was using it to attack her mentally just as much as physically tonight. Combining the nostalgic and old desires built up in her head over the years with this new reality and experience she had finally found the strength to find. The psychological attack was driving her wild.

The truck takes off, slamming it into gear, he has dropped his whole foot on the accelerator. Peeling out of the lot as if he had really stolen her against her will. She’s forced back into the seat and it is taking all of her core strength not to roll into the floor between the center console and the seat. Legs spread by this cursed bar, hands still locked behind her back. Twisting her body and propping herself on her elbows to try and find comfort. She already knows that by the time they get where they are going, she will be exhausted. Even when not on her, he has found ways to drain her of strength without having to use his. Knowing she won't be able to stand, much less fight with the tightness in her abs already. He’s good. Well played.

She flinches every time the shine of headlights from oncoming traffic floods the interior of the truck. Making her hyper aware of the current state she is in. It’s one thing to be exposed, it's another to be literally spread. What would people think? What would someone do if they pulled up alongside and saw her like this? How would she explain this away? The anxiety is breaking her apart and driving her deeper into the fantasy.

Then the truck slowed bringing a wave of relief. Expecting the next phase, a moment of horror spread across her face as she recognized the glow of a gas station light. Now it was panic. Now the fear was back, this was a public place, a real chance that she would actually be seen. Sprawled and gagged, clearly glistening and spreading a pool of herself along this seat. The smell of gas and diesel flooded in on the opening of the door, for some reason she had always loved that smell. It was making her mouth water, struggling to swallow against the gag still stuffed in her mouth. Then, the muffled sound of voices hit her as he left the truck. There are other cars here. A new thought took hold, she was laying here a complete ruined mess, not only that, she was defenseless and exposed. What if someone walked past? What if… what if they saw her? What if, seeing her, they had the same hungry look in their eyes?

God she wonders what's wrong with her. She’s getting lost further and further in this fantasy. She was right, she's becoming someone else. She wants to be seen. She wants someone, everyone to look at her with that same desire. It's the one thing that she wants more in the world right now. Realizing that she’s even struggling to push out her chest more, that if she is going to be on display, she should do it right. Her hips, and the angle she laid started to cause discomfort from staying forcefully open, her shoulders burning from the extended time her hands had stayed locked behind her back, and she couldn't care less at the moment. She was still pushing herself to try and be seen through it all. Her core was on fire and she was begging for the strength to sit up, just a little bit. Just one glimpse and she can call back down.

Snapped back by the door opening again. She was conflicted by the feelings running through her. What she had just tried to do. She had surprised herself in how she had lost control for a moment. Confident only in knowing that she’s never going to be the same by the end of this. She hoped that he would just open the back door and take her here and now. Let the world see her, at this point she was ready to let the world join. She couldn’t stand the wait any longer. Her body demanded it.

“That was your last chance for help, you could have screamed then and there”

He was reminding her how badly she had fallen into this. She was a bundle of thoughts and conflicting emotions, in the process of losing herself she had forgotten the plot. She simply closed her eyes and retreated inwards, waiting for the next step. Sorting herself out while she still could.

When the truck finally pulled into his gravel driveway, the sound of the tires was a loud reminder that everything so far had just been the prologue, that she was already desperate and exhausted and they hadn't even begun yet.. She barely managed to stop herself rolling again as he came to an abrupt halt. The back door was flung open, and the cold air flooded the cabin. Before she could react, he grabbed her by the bar between her legs and pulled her right out of the seat, launching her body toward him. Barely catching her as she rocketed out. Cradled now in his arms, she could do nothing but take in the surroundings. She wanted to struggle against him, but at this point, it would be a lie. She’s not interested in struggling. She wants him to move faster. To take her already. The houses, the suburban street he lived on seemed so normal. She thought of the people long asleep for the night missing the sight of her being carried off like this. The idea of knowing what's to come, while they binged Netflix and climbed into bed seemed absurd. Every step that brought her closer to the house was another impact she felt through her entire self. Bringing her closer to this moment that she had been waiting for since he left her that first night.

As he carries her through the doorway and sets her down on the floor like an object, not the person she was, just another thing he was bringing into the house. She can only look up at him, feeling so small, laying flat on the floor as he now towers above her, taking off his shoes with no particular rush, knowing that he has a weekend ahead of him. That she is his for at least the next 48 hours. One foot settles in the middle of her chest as he takes off his coat. Just the right amount of pressure, making it clear that even if she could, she wasn't going anywhere. Walking around her, again his eyes roaming over her she barely manages one last muffled scream as he grips the bar and drags her away..