Blindsided

Have you ever been taken by force?

Blackness descending over your eyelids; arms tied above you, legs pinned beneath the weight of your assailant; tongue silenced. A calloused finger running over your cheekbones tracing the path of your unheeded tears. Chapped lips kiss your exposed neck as you struggle vainly under your captor. You whimper helplessly at the violation, his thumbs softly caress your lips: "shh" he whispers. His hands travel down your body with a kind of reverence. You've stopped fighting; there isn't much use at this point, he's determined to go through with his licentious intent.

He swiftly unfastens the sash of your robe and his hot breath tickles the skin of your stomach; the feel of it should make you shudder but it doesn't feel wholly unpleasant. Your mind and body are at war with each other and your emotions the spoils. The roughened hands lift your back gently off the floor and unsnap the lace strap of your bra. You resist his advances anew but his other hand forces you down again as he pulls off the undergarment. He sighs softly, this time the air he exhales is cool on your revealed breasts. Your nipples involuntarily grow taut. He moans appreciatively and you feel his body shift down toward your bare flesh.

His mouth takes one of your breasts into his mouth and bites your hardened nipple; the feel of his lips sucking and nipping causes you to arch towards him, while still wanting to resist his ministrations. The fingers of his other hand pinch the nipple of your other breast causing conflicting sensations of pain and pleasure. He transfers his oral attention to your stomach laying kisses down your torso towards your hips; your legs struggle to remain closed, but he slips his hands between your thighs and begins to slowly stroke you through the fabric. Your body betrays you again as you feel yourself becoming slick. You hear him chuckle softly; he knows he has you.

He rips off the swatch of lace and forces your legs open putting his body in between them ensuring quick and easy access. With his thumb he rubs your clit and your breathing becomes heavy. As he rubs he inserts one finger into your wet slit, in and out, causing you to whimper. His thumb and finger begin working in tandem, a lazy rhythm that brings you to the brink but holds you there, begging for release.

Have you ever been taken by force?

Do you know what its like when your will's not your own; to be so utterly dependent on an enemy for the fulfillment of your desires? He continues to torment you, assaulting your body with nips and licks as his fingers wreak havoc on your already sensitive nerves. He slowly withdraws his hand from between your thighs and takes his fingers into his mouth, moaning as his licks your wetness from his fingertips. He then traces your lips with the same sticky digits, the juices slipping past the gag, forcing you to taste your body's betrayal.

You hear him unzip his pants as he kneels above your face, his member softly grazing your cheek, tears mingling with seed; a doubly salted stain marks your face and neck. He travels the length of your body lightly stroking every inch of you with his thickness until he stops inches from your swollen folds. Prodding carefully, barely entering; he’s planned his torment well. You struggle against your own need, ashamed and yet unsatisfied. He continues to circle his shaft around the sensitized nub of your clit until he’s sure that the moaning escaping from throat is pleading, not protesting.

In one fluid motion he fills you to the hilt while yanking your hair back, causing your body to arch, forcing him even deeper inside you. The mingling of senses is overwhelming; you’re unable to tell where the pain stops and the pleasure starts. Your body bucks with both, a heady mix, at once gratifying and mortifying. He pumps into you at a steady pace, hips thrusting with violence and possession. He owns you in this moment, body, mind and soul; you need him to bring you over the edge, and he knows it. He controls whether or not you achieve release, whether or not the ecstasy overrides the brutality. But it isn’t about you anymore and the realization strikes swiftly. Until this moment he has been attentive and solicitous, even gentle. Now it is his satisfaction that is paramount. Like a jockey putting his thoroughbred through its paces, he rides you hard and fast, with an urgency and viciousness that your body accommodates with ferocity as if its only task is to bring your attacker to his climax. As he nears this peak he lifts you off the floor, nails digging into the soft rear flesh, breaking skin, causing a fresh wave of ache to break over you. With one last stroke he spends himself into your throbbing insides, jerking you against your bonds, inflicting a cruel, yet intense end to your own orgasm.

He slips out of you tracing your thighs with fluid still trickling from his shaft, leaving a final brand on your quivering skin. He unties your hands but keeps them pinned lest you attempt to remove the blindfold and dispel the mystery. “Not until I leave…” When you’re finally calm enough to remove the blindfold and the gag, the only traces of your assailant are the dried juices on your skin and the faint lingering scent of a familiar fragrance.

© Briar Rose