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“This pussy is mine now, baby. I’m gonna keep you so full of cum that you’ll feel me inside of you even when I’m gone.” I wiggle my hips a little, thrusting my seed further into her. “I’m gonna fill you up until your belly is swollen with my child. Then I’ll do it again for fun. Just to see my cream pie drip out of your ravaged wet pussy.”
Calliope swallows hard. Her fingernails are still dug deep into my biceps and there’s a wild look in her eyes. “Stop,” she mumbles unconvincingly. “You don’t mean that.”
I thrust my hips into her one more time, my cock coming back to life. “Tell me what I don’t mean again,” I threaten. “And I won’t just fill your pussy, baby. I’ll make sure my cum is dripping out of every one of your holes.”
She shudders beneath me but that’s when I catch it, the look of excitement. She’s afraid, she’s been afraid since I kidnapped her, but Calliope can’t hide the fact that her libido is titillated by my words. Maybe she doesn’t want me to finish inside of her, but something within Calliope is turned on by the idea.
That’s the girl that I fuck again. The one that wants to be so full of my jizz that she’s a double-stuffed Oreo. I give it to her again until we’re both screaming this time. Her fingernails leave marks on my back when I hit her G-spot just right.
Maybe she’s not ready to be a mom, but she’s ready to get fucked like she is.
12
CALLIOPE
Raniero is an animal. He’s a god damn fucking monster. And I hate that I like it.
After that first time we had sex, he drew me a bath and said that it would help with my achy muscles. My muscles weren’t achy, but I took the bath anyway. It gave me time to think about what had just happened and how my body responded to his. He left the room and locked the door behind him, giving me the privacy to touch myself in memory of what we did. I was ashamed, but I couldn’t help but be turned on.
Was it wrong to lust after the man keeping you captive? Was this what they called Stockholm Syndrome? Did I need to see a professional about my attraction to the man that forced me to suck his cock in exchange for more dinner?
But it didn’t stop there.
Raniero came back after dinner to find me on the windowsill again, picking up where I’d left off in the Tudor Era story. I was going to set the book to the side and indulge him in conversation, but he shook his head at me.
I let him maneuver my body how he wanted it. He placed the book on the windowsill seat, open to the page that I was on. Then he had me bend over, arms on either side of the book. “Read,” he ordered as he pulled down my panties. “Aloud,” he added after a moment.
I made it through a line before I felt the tip of his cock at my entrance. I clammed up immediately, looking over my shoulder to make eye contact with him.
Raniero’s hand came down on my ass hard, leaving a stinging mark in its wake. I hissed from the pain but I had to admit, it made the feeling of his cock entering me so much better. “I said read aloud,” he glared at me. “Do as you’re told.”
I turned back to the book and my eyes failed to focus on the words. I could stumble through three or four words before I had to take a deep breath and concentrate. The sensation of his cock sliding in and out of my pussy was distracting. Every time I took longer than a few seconds to get to the next sentence, Raniero spanked me. He brought his hand down on my pale skin and turned it cherry red.
I was lost to the pain and pleasure when I came all over his dick. The book was forgotten as I grabbed onto the pillows, the windowpane, the drapes, anything to keep myself upright as he made my thighs quiver from pleasure. He used that as an excuse to keep slapping my ass. Over and over again his cock rammed into my center and his hand came down on my ass. I threw my head back and rode out the sensations.
By morning the achiness that he’d predicted had set in. My thighs were sore and so was my ass—both from the spanking and the subsequent workout. But the part that really felt like it’d been bruised and beaten up was my pussy.
I wanted to take it easy, but having sex for the first time seemed to trigger something in Raniero. He turned into a depraved monster that wanted to be inside of me all the time.
I barely made it through breakfast before he was taking me to the gardens and fucking me under the morning sun. It didn’t help the soreness at all and when he confiscated my panties, shoving them into his pants pocket before I could put them back on, I was forced to walk back to the house with his jizz dripping down my thighs.
“That’s a good look on you,” he said with a grin. “Wouldn’t mind seeing it every day.”
The sex felt good, but I was still afraid of getting knocked up. Any day now I could escape, have him arrested, and go back to living my life as though nothing happened. I could be myself again. But every time he came inside of me was one more chance that he could ruin my plans.
Not that I had any idea how I was going to escape. Sampson was everywhere all the time. I don’t know how. For a big guy, he was surprisingly agile. On more than one occasion I caught him running around the property at sunrise or sunset and he looked like he was in good shape. If Sampson wasn’t around, one of Raniero’s other employees was. They all regarded me with the highest respect, but I saw them watching me out of the corner of their eyes. They were instructed to stop me if I tried to leave; I didn’t need to hear it to know that it was true.
Raniero himself was in and out of the house at random. Sometimes I’d hear the garage door open in the dead of night. The first time I heard it, I asked him about it the next day. Raniero told me he had business to attend to. I couldn’t help but notice that his left hand was wrapped in a bandage and he had a shiner. I hoped that whatever business he was attending to had gotten it worse than he had.
When Raniero was at home, he was either with me or in his office. He allowed Sampson to escort me on walks on days that he was too busy to do so himself. When I tried to worm what he was doing in there out of his bodyguard, Sampson shut down.
On the rare occasion that Raniero wasn’t bogged down in work or missing from the mansion, he was fucking me. He’d come into my room and see me watching television. Then in a matter of moments, Netflix would keep playing the show while I was forced to ride on top of Raniero. Or he’d find me and Sampson in the library and he’d send his bodyguard away. With my book discarded, he’d press me up against the library’s shelves as he held me aloft and jackhammered into me. The spines of some of Charles Dickens’s greatest works were briefly tattooed on my skin.
Every time he fucked me, he ignored my pleas to come on my stomach or thigh. I think it turned him on to listen to me begging for him to come on my tits instead of inside me.
Raniero was hell-bent on getting me pregnant. And he was determined to make me want it. He’d wait until I orgasmed before shooting his load inside of me and refusing to pull out until a good twenty minutes had passed. He’d tease and torment me all the while, reminding me how much my body responded to him and how he knew I was turned on by his dirty talk. “You like it when I fill your pussy and tell you how I’m gonna do it again. It makes you crazy. You buck like a fucking bronco every time we go for round two.”
And just like that, he’d be thrusting inside of me again. His cock would awaken whatever beast inside of me wanted to be fucked and stuffed so badly. It was delicious. It was horrifying. And I loved and hated every minute of it.
