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And those talented fingers. Taking me higher and higher.
Without meaning to, my pelvis arches up into his hand. The rising ache of needing release—it’s so much higher than those rare occasions when I’ve nervously touched myself in the dark before.
I’ve never felt anything like this. His large, blunt fingers are nothing like my thin ones. I always tease myself with the gentle press of my middle finger but he uses his thumb, rolling and pinching, alternately gentle and rough. I would have thought I’d hate this… this lack of control. This giant stranger taking what he wants like this. It’s so wrong. But that very thought seems to amp my pleasure even higher.
“Need to taste,” he mutters and then he shifts himself off of me. The next second his fingers and hands and mouth are gone.
I stop the whine of protest right before it crosses my lips. Still, I can’t help the brief moment when my whole body arches in the direction he seemed to go.
And then I’m flooded by both shame and relief. Maybe he’ll stop now. Maybe that’s all I’ll have to endure for tonight.
I flop back against the bed, squeezing my eyes shut underneath the mask. But there’s no time to try to get my head on straight before I realize that the noise I’m hearing is that goddammed nightstand drawer being opened and shut again.
Oh no. What now?
He takes my wrists and then I feel something looped around them. Rope? A belt? Holy shit, he’s tying me down.
Oh God, no. No no no no no.
He’s.
Tying.
Me.
Down.
Somehow it’s finally hitting me in a way it hasn’t before. I’m out here all alone with an obviously crazy person. A very large, very muscled crazy person who wants to tie me down and do… God knows what to me.
“You know, we really haven’t gotten to know each other yet. Don’t you think that might be nice? They always say communication is key.” I laugh shrilly. “Take you for instance. Xavier’s such an interesting name. Did your mother or father think it up? Is it a family name? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
Especially any sisters, I think but don’t say. Some nice little sister I might remind him of? Then I remember I’m naked and where his mouth and hands just were… okay, so scratch the sister image. But still, okay, how else can I humanize myself?
“I was an only child but that’s just because my mom got her tubes tied after me. She didn’t really like kids. She was one of seven children and it kind of burnt her out on the whole thing. But I always wanted a little sister or brother.”
The constraint—I’m almost sure it’s a belt for how sharp the edges feel cutting into the skin of my wrists—jerks tight as he pulls it taut and then ostensibly ties off the other end, probably to the thick wooden rungs lining the headboard. Terror makes me light-headed. I give an experimental yank but nothing gives even the littlest bit. I remember how sturdy the wooden bed frame looked and my breathing gets shallow.
Where was I? Oh right. Trying to humanize myself so I don’t die in some virgin sacrifice my third day here. I know he theoretically brought me here to pop out a kid for him, but what if that was just so I’d get in the damn van and really he’s a psycho killer and—
Rough hands shove my thighs open.
Oh God, this is it.
Brace for impact.
Here it comes.
Devirginization in three, two—
I about jump out of my skin at the feel of his warm breath and the touch of his silky-soft tongue tracing up my inner left thigh.
Receiving pleasure when I expected pain is a shock to my system. I don’t know what to— I can’t even—
“Um, yeah, so I— I—” The last word breaks off in a gasp as he grazes his stubbled cheek along the inside of one thigh, pausing at the apex.
Is he—oh God, is he smelling me? And then his lips join the scrape of his jaw, a soft torture of lips and tongue that creates such an agonizing contrast I’m not sure if I’m in heaven or hell.
When he tongues up the center of my slit, I shudder and gasp with pleasure so sharp, I feel like I might pass out.
