YAYFORSLASH.
by dead.asleep.dreaming on September 02, 2006
Chapter 1:
“OUCH! Fucking – ARGH!”
“Erm, do you mind? People are sleeping.”
“Well get him the fuck off me then!”
“Get off Mike, right now. There you go – now SHUT UP!”
“Er, like that’s gonna make me move Bill.”
“I tried.”
“Not very hard.”
“Hahaha! HARD!”
“Oh Jesus fucking Christ…”
“Tré, you laugh at the weirdest things.”
“Hahahahahaha! HARD!”
“Shut UP! Sleeping time!”
“Billie, stop being so grumpy.”
“Says the person who woke me in the first place.”
“I couldn’t help it, Tré landed on me.”
“Well why was he falling?”
“Hmm…good point. Tré?”
“Ahahahahahahaha! HARD!”
“Mother of God…”
“Tré…shut up already.”
All I hear is muffled laughter in response.
“Oh, this is stupid…” I reach out for the light switch and flick it on, revealing a rather disgruntled looking Mike lying beneath Tré, the drummer turning red in the face in his efforts to shut himself up.
“Tré, it really wasn’t that funny.”
“I know,” he gasps. “I’m sorry…it’s just…hahaha!”
Mike rolls his eyes and attempts to shift Tré off of him.
“So…what exactly happened just then?” I ask as Tré manages to regain his composure, sliding off of Mike and in-between us.
“Yes, that’s what I want to know,” says Mike, looking at Tré expectantly.
“Uhm…I had to get up for…something…and then I just couldn’t see where I was going on the way back,” he explains, not meeting either of our eyes, a smile spreading across his face.
There’s a pause.
“You went for a wank, didn’t you?”
Silence. And then I hear Mike’s muffled sniggers. Tré’s grin widens.
“Maybe.”
I poke him playfully, my grumpyness from just moments before gone. “There’s no need to be so secretive about it Tré, it’s not like it’s anything new.”
“Yeah if you’d told us we could have helped you out,” says Mike, his hand slipping round Tré’s waist.
Tré’s grin widens impossibly. “Well…there’s still time…”
“Argh … no … sleepiness…”
“FINE! You can have one too.”
“Heh. That’s not what I meant but yeah, ok…”
“My ass that’s not what you meant.”
“No, seriously, I – MNGHFLH!”
“I did warn you.”
“Heh. Heh heh heh heh…”
“Tré … shut up.”
“Sorry Mike. Oh fucking hell Billie will you keep STILL?”
“Mnghfklkabat…”
“Way to go Bill, that made no sense whatsoever.”
“Can you blame him?”
“Heh. Heh heh heh heh…”
“…You’re doing it again.”
“Oh, shut up or you won’t get one.”
“…………”
“Heh, that’s better.”
“Stop saying ‘heh’.”
“But I like saying ‘heh’.”
“Yes, but … oh look, Bill’s coming.”
“Oh yes, would you look at that.”
“How long did that last Tré?”
“…All of three minutes.”
“Heh. Heh heh heh heh…”
“Look who’s talking now.”
“Oh, shush. Bill, seriously, your stamina is going way downhill.”
I blink at them both sleepily, my brain refusing to be coherent and unfuzzy with the lack of sleep and arousal hanging over it.
“I do apologise.”
“No matter. We’ll soon have you back up to scratch.”
“Heh. Heh heh heh heh…”
I rub at my forehead. “Jesus that sound is annoying.”
There’s a pause.
“Did you know that you just came freakishly fast?”
I groan. “Oh, shut up.”
“If it was anyone else I’d be worried, but seeing as it’s you…”
“Shut up. Fuck off. I’m not listening.”
“You are. You are you are you are.”
“Heh. Heh heh heh heh…”
“Tré, don’t get involved. Just hurry up and suck me off.”
“I do apologise Mr Michael. And since when did I become the bitch?”
“You’ve always been the bitch Tré.”
“Mr Michael? What the hell?”
“Heh. Heh heh heh heh…”
Hmm. Another average Sunday morning in the Green Day camp then. Well, it’s not even specifically a Sunday thing; most mornings tend to work along those lines. Not that I’m complaining.
“Bill? Gimme your fags a sec…”
“Why?” I say, a little defensive. Early wake ups always make me cranky.
“No reason. Just pass them here.”
I look at him suspiciously a moment before tossing him the packet.
“A-HA!” he cries, grinning delightedly.
“Hey, wait a minute!” I exclaim when he starts to turn away. “Where are you going? What are you going to do?”
“Jeez Billie, they’re just fags. It’s not like I’m abducting your kids.”
I sigh. “Yes Tré, I do realise that. I just want to know what you’re gonna do with them. I paid good money for them. For a reason. Because, oh, I don’t know, maybe I wanted to smoke them?”
He smacks a hand across his mouth in mock disbelief. “I never would have guessed.”
“Yeah, so, anyways, can I have them back now?” I say, voice turning slightly whiny. Grr, stupid voice.
He laughs. “Um…no.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“I said ‘no’, dearest. Clean your ears out.”
“I heard what you said, I just –“
“MIKE!”
I hear a muffled, “What?” from the other room.
“I’ve got them!” Tré calls back.
The door opens and Mike walks through, smiling serenely as Tré chucks him the cigarettes. I gaze at them both nervously, nicotine cravings coursing through my veins. “Uhm…guys?”
“You don’t remember, do you?”
“Remember what?”
“Exactly.”
“Uhm…care to embellish on that point?”
“Last night you told us you wanted to quit. Cold turkey. And you asked us to help you. So we are.”
I stare at them both blankly for a moment.
“I said what?”
Tré laughs and reaches forward to stroke my hair. “Oh Mr Armstrong, you really should lay off the beer a bit too,” he says, his eyes watching the confused look on my face.
“But…but…”
Damn. I really didn’t remember a thing of last night. I didn’t even remember drinking. But that might explain my splitting headache…
I watched as Mike took the packet and walked over to the bin. He glanced up at me as he dropped them in.
“Got any more lying around?”
“N-no.”
“Good boy.”
I look at them both for a moment before shaking my head.
“You do realise I am now gonna be one cranky sonofabitch,” I warn them.
They laugh. “You already are.”
Which, of course, makes me grumble. Which makes them laugh harder.
Argh…I hate this feeling, all twitchy and strange. I always get it when I’m sleep or nicotine deprived. With no cigarettes left to smoke the feeling away, I start fiddling nervously. With my hair and the table, crossing and un-crossing my legs, rubbing my fingers together. Mike watches all this, an amused expression on his face.
“You wanna go out?” he says after a moment of silent torture.
I leap right out of my seat. “YES! I mean … yes.”
A smile. “Where d’you want to go?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.”
“Well that narrows it down a lot.”
“Heh. Heh heh heh heh…”
“Tré, don’t even fucking start.”
“Sorry.”
“So, uhm, yeah … where we going then?”
“Ice rink?”
There’s a long pause.
“Uhm…I’m thinking NO.”
“You ARE joking right?”
“I might be.”
“Ok, so, I vote a bar.”
“…It’s like mid-day Bill.”
“And?”
“I veto this.”
Tré stands there, looking caught. “But…beer…”
“Yes, but not now. Too early.”
“It’s never too early for beer.”
“Jesus! You know, one day you two are gonna have no money whatsoever – coz you will have spent it all on BEER!”
“What the hell? Where did that come from?”
“If that ever happens I’m just gonna start to make my own. OOH! I should do that anyways…”
“Oh good God…”
“Hmm, yes, anyway, we’re kind of going off track here…”
“…I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry Tré.”
“Yes but…” Tré’s stomach chooses this exact moment to grumble loudly. “See? Told you so.”
“Wahoo! A decision is made!”
“What, we’re going to a restaurant?”
“Haha restaurant is such a stupid word!”
“…ookay then, Tré…”
“Alright shut up you two, we’re going. Now.”
“Hold on, just let me…”
“No Billie, you look gorgeous as it is.”
“Heh. Heh heh heh heh. I sense an in-car blowjob is coming up…PAH HAHAHAHA! COMING!”
“Oh dear he’s off again.”
“Hmm…all I heard then was ‘in-car blowjob’.”
“Well…if you’re lucky…”
So after a VERY enjoyable car-ride, we ended up in the middle of town outside this ultra-posh restaurant.
“Uhm…we’re really going in HERE?”
“Yeah, somehow I get the feeling we’d be made more welcome at Taco Bell.”
“That’s probably very true, but I refuse to put up with the after-effects of a meal there again. Remember how last time I wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as you two for a week?”
“Aww Mike I thought that was because you didn’t love us anymore.”
“Oh ha, ha, very funny. But yeah, we hardly ever eat proper food on the road; thought this would make a nice change.”
“Hmmm.”
“I guess…”
“These places make me uncomfortable too you know. But…c’mon, stop being such pussies and just come inside.”
“Fine then.”
“Meow!”
So in we went. We were immediately met with sharp stares, for the hair and the make-up and the tattoos. But oh well. When Mike asked for a table for three, I was convinced the frowning woman at the counter was going to bite his head off. She led us to our seats, the whole time giving us this Don’t You Realise You’re Not Welcome Here Please Get The Fuck Out look.
“Well, what a pleasant woman,” I said once she’d taken our orders and left, still glaring.
“Oh yes Billie Joe, I do agree.”
“Tré, don’t even TRY to be posh – you just end up sounding like an idiot.”
“Nothing new there.”
“Oh, ha, ha.”
“No need for sarcasm Frank.”
“Frank? What the hell? Why’d you call me that?”
“I don’t actually know.”
“Well don’t do it again.”
“Ok Frank.”
“Argh! Careful or the pussy will bite you.”
“Frank, please refrain from saying ‘pussy’ while we’re here.”
“Only if you stop calling me Frank.”
“Never.”
“Well then-“
A small cough breaks up the argument and all three of us look round. A guy is stood there, smiling serenely, hands behind his back. He, like us, doesn’t look like he should be here. His hair is ruffled, dirty blond-brown in colour, and his clothes could have come out of my own wardrobe. He’s even wearing eyeliner. Yes, guys other then me and Tré do wear that in public.
We wait for him to say something, anything, but it never comes.
“Um…hi?” I say, breaking the awkward silence.
“Hi,” he says, giving this little wave, that smile still plastered across his face. It’s starting to creep me out a little. Stop smiling already!
“Urm…can we help you?” I hear from Mike.
I can’t seem to tear my gaze away from this guys’ eyes. They’re blue – fucking magnificently blue. Like a mixture of the sky and the sea and snow all merged together; cold yet warm at the same time, their shades ever changing.
“No,” he replies, his voice calm. So calm, it’s almost bland. Can you even HAVE a bland voice?
And then he does something very strange. He takes a chair from a nearby table and…sits down with us. Err, excuse me, but do we know you Mr Crazypants?
All three of us just stare at him in disbelief for a moment. I manage to tear my eyes away from him long enough to lock a gaze with Mike and Tré. It’s an Oookay What The Hell Is Wrong With This Guy? gaze.
“Erm…I’m sorry but do we KNOW you?” says Tré after a moment.
A confused look passes across the guy’s face for the flicker of a moment, before that smile is back. That creepy-as-fuck smile that I just want to GO AWAY! Along with it’s wearer.
“I’m Jake,” he says.
Ok, that helps us how? We know your name – whoopdedoo! We still don’t know YOU, so get the fuck out!
“Oookay,” says Tré, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, but is there any reason in particular that you’re sitting with us?”
Good ole Tré. I do love that man.
“I’m Jake,” he repeats.
Oookay, getting a liiittle scared here.
“Yeah dude, you just said that.”
“I did?” He looks genuinely confused. “Oh. Sorry.”
We exchange looks again. Weirdo alert, weirdo alert!
“So yeah, Jake, why are you here?” Tré tries again, a frown spreading across his forehead.
“Uhm…to see you guys,” he says, speaking as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire world.
“But dude, we don’t KNOW you,” Mike points out.
“Yeah you do,” Jake replies, looking confused. “I’ve known you guys for ages.”
Oookay then. Scary Dude really needs to fuck off right now.
I look over at Mike and see his suppressed anger, see Tré’s fear-fuelled annoyance. It’s only then that I notice I don’t just have Mike’s hand on my knee anymore. I have Jake’s too.
I nearly scream out loud, but I have to do with just a wild shiver. I feel Tré’s concerned gaze fall on me.
“Make him leave,” I mouth across to him, and he frowns and nods.
But just when he’s opening his mouth, Jake’s cell goes off. He answers with a serene, “Hello?” one hand covering his exposed ear. A frown crosses his blank face and after a moment he hangs up without even saying goodbye.
“I’m sorry guys, but I’ve got to go,” he says, looking genuinely apologetic.
“Uhm…it’s ok, really,” says Mike, still confused.
“I’ll catch up with you later though, I swear. Where will I be able to find you?” Jake says, getting up and pushing in the chair. At least his hand had left my fucking knee.
“Uhm…” Tré glances at us both, looking worried.
Don’t you fucking DARE tell him where we’re parked or I shall kick you so far into the next state…
“I think you’ll know where to find us,” offers Mike, flashing a fake smile.
What the hell? What on earth does that mean Mikey boy?
But then I notice Jake smiling and nodding in agreement. His eyes lock with mine for just a moment, that smile stretching at his lips. And then … a wink. A wink?! He fucking winked at me. I want to scream again…
“See you later then. Bye Billie,” he says, doing that little wave thing again before walking slowly off.
‘Bye Billie’. He knows my name. He knows my fucking name. And oh crap, now I’m shaking…
“Billie, are you alright?” Tré asks nervously, reaching out to touch my arm. I realise I must have turned deathly pale.
“He knew…my name,” I gasp, fear pounding through me.
“Yeah, I know. That dude was creepy. What the fuck was his problem?” Mike grumbles, poking at the salt and pepper shakers.
Tré’s gaze was fixed firmly in my direction, looking worried. “Billie, are you sure-“
“He touched my knee,” I interrupt, my voice shaky.
Mike looks up quickly, dropping the salt on the floor.
“He what?”
“He had his hand on my leg the entire time he was sat here.”
“Fuck. Why didn’t you say? I’d have made him get the fuck off.”
“Sorry, I just…yeah. It was just…weird. Creepy.”
“Understatement of the fucking century.”
“Haha, yeah.” My laugh sounded very forced, very strange. “Jesus I want a fag…”
“Oh no. Don’t you dare.”
“You can’t use this as an excuse I’m afraid.”
“I’m not trying to! I just…oh, never mind. Can you at least let me go outside then? Some fresh air to help clear my head…”
“You’re gonna go buy cigarettes, I know you are.”
“Put your wallet on the table and we’ll let you go.”
“Jesus fucking Christ! I’m not gonna go buy fags! Don’t you trust me?”
I see them both wince at the words. Works every time.
“Fine then.”
“We want you back in five.”
“Yeah, who knows how many weirdos are wandering around out there.”
I force another laugh as I get up and make my way out of the restaurant, my head feeling muddled. Fucking sleep deprivation. Fucking hangover. Fucking weirdo coming on to me.
I sigh with relief at the cool outdoor air. The sky is grey, clouds rolling across overhead. The street is unusually quiet. Weird. What is wrong with everything today?
I sigh again, shoving my hands in my pockets and walking away from the restaurant. As I round the corner, I hear myself gasp as I feel hands grabbing me, wrapping over my mouth to stop me crying out and forcing my own hands taut behind my back.
“Aww baby, you came after me. How sweet,” says that bland, serene voice.
Panic courses through me, my heart beating furiously. Baby? He called me ‘baby’? No-one calls me that, not even Mike or Tré or Adie. HE’S not fucking allowed to…
“Come on baby, come this way…”
I feel myself being dragged backwards, and suddenly all of my light is extinguished. I try to struggle, I try to call out, but it’s completely useless. He’s too fucking strong.
I hear a low chuckle from behind me, and then the sound of something sharp, and…oh my fucking God there’s a fucking knife against my throat…
“Just you wait baby,” says that voice again, low and calm and dangerous. “I’m going to make you SCREAM.”
*
“So. Frank.”
“Don’t even fucking start Mike.”
“Oh Frank please don’t be mad at me…”
“I’m not mad. And stop calling me that!”
“You ARE mad Frank. I know you are. I bet it’s coz I blew Billie before and not you…”
“Stop with the Frankness! And for God’s sakes, I’m NOT mad! Although it IS rather unfair that I’m The Bitch That Gets None.”
“See? I knew you were mad.”
“I’m not. I’m not I’m not I’m not.”
“You lie.”
“No I don’t.”
“You shouldn’t lie like that Frank.”
“STOP IT WITH THE ‘FRANK’S’, MIKE!”
“Naughty, naughty, raising your voice like that in public. You’ll never get a blowjob now.”
“WHAT?”
“I WAS going to give you one, but now…”
“Aww Mike, come on, I’m sorry…”
“You don’t mean that. You just want to come. Down my throat.”
There’s this long silence. Then I grin and raise my eyebrows at him. “And?”
He looks at me long and hard, trying to be serious, trying to not smile and utterly failing.
“Meet me in the bathroom in five.”
And with that he’s gone, off across the restaurant, the men’s room door swinging shut behind him.
I curl my fingers in anticipation, smiling to myself.
Shit. What about Billie? I can just imagine him coming back in and finding us not here…the look on his face – HA! But he’ll go on about it for ages afterwards, especially with the foul mood he’s in today.
I’m just reaching into my pocket for a pen and a scrap of paper to write him a note on, when I feel a hand, heavy and warm on my shoulder. I can feel the power in that grip. I look up in shock and see…
Eyes. Those eyes – woah. So green, so intense, so pure. Yet dirty. Shining like emeralds even in this crap light. Long eyelashes, heavy lids. I can’t bring myself to look away…
“Hey,” says the mouth, the mouth belonging to those eyes. “You must be Tré.”
I nod dumbly, not even stopping to consider how he knows my name.
“I’m Jake,” says that voice again, perky and slightly high-pitched, almost excited.
I’d heard that name before…
But then one of those eyes is crinkling, moving. A wink. Just a wink. But wow.
“You’re friend…who was just with you…told me to show you something. Outside.”
My brain tries to churn slowly back into action but fails. “He did?” is all I can manage.
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
I sense that he’s smiling at me, and manage to unfocus from his eyes for just a moment, to get a shot of the overall picture.
Not bad, I find myself thinking. Which is quickly followed by a Tré, you slut. Mike’s mouth is waiting…
But for once there is something more appealing then a blowjob stood right in front of me. I feel him take my hand, am faintly aware of standing and being led outside. And then the eyes are facing me again, locking with my own, and then they’re moving closer and he’s pushing me against the wall. Lips bump clumsily together. His hands grab my own, and I feel them being clasped together and bound. What the-? I try to pull away from him, but then suddenly the eyes have gone, everything’s gone, I can’t see… I try to cry out but I can’t speak either. Try to flail at him with my fists and manage to catch him briefly, only lightly, barely making him grunt. And then I’m being smacked around the head and pulled away. I try to yell, to sob, to anything. But I can’t. And then there’s a low chuckle in my ear and that voice again.
“Don’t be scared baby, it’s just a little bondage. You like that kind of thing, I know you do. We’re gonna have so much fun!”
*
Heh. Five minutes my arse. Tré could never in a million years last that long. Not when I was offering him a free orgasm in a public place. Oh no. Not a chance. I was expecting two minutes, three at tops before he waltzed in, grinning devilishly.
I smiled to myself and bent over to glance at my reflection in the bathroom mirrors. Yes, at times I can be just as girly as Billie. I ran a hand through my hair, pulled at my collar. Gotta look my best for Tré.
Which reminds me – where the hell IS he? It’s been the full five minutes now … what’s going on? Ah, I know. The food must have arrived. That would be the one thing that would delay him. Food or sex? Tough choice.
But still … he always, ALWAYS, chooses the latter. Always, no matter how hungry he is. His hornyness seems to override it all. Or he at least tries to incorporate the two, kinky bitch that he is.
Hmm … eight minutes. I should probably go drag him in here. He can bring his frikkin’ meal with him if he wants, I don’t care, as long as he’s here.
But just when I’m reaching to push open the door, it opens by itself. I leap out of the way in alarm, letting out a strangled yelp of surprise.
“Oh, sorry Mike, did I scare you?”
What? Who the hell ARE you?
But … hold on. That face, it’s somehow familiar. Like I’ve seen it before but…differently. His eyes … his eyes are strange. Very unusual. One of them, his left, is blue. So blue. As blue as the deepest ocean. And the other, the right, is green. Sparkling in the light, shining like a precious jewel. Fuck…would you just listen to me?
“Uhm…no…problem?” I stutter, shaken and confused.
“No, no it IS a problem. Just look at you, you’re shaking. Come here…”
And suddenly warm, strong arms are being wrapped around me. I feel like I should struggle, like I should push him off, but for some reason…I can’t. I don’t want to. Being held like this should be weird, but it isn’t. It feels good, it feels safe. Even though I have no fucking clue who this guy is. And when I breathe in, I can smell his hair, smell his scent. And it makes me all … light-headed.
But wait, his grip, it’s getting tighter. It’s too tight now. It hurts. I can feel all the breath being squashed slowly out of me…
“S-stop…it hurts…” I manage to gasp, but that only makes him squeeze harder. And now I want to scream in pain and fear but I don’t have the breath left in me to do it…and oh God I’m going to die, he’s going to kill me…
“Shh baby,” I hear as he presses me so close to him, holding me so tightly. “There, there. It’s ok.”
But it’s not ok, it’s not, you’re killing me, I don’t know you, get off, get off…
“Poor Mike, there there. Come with me, you’ll be alright. You’re safe with me baby, you’re safe with me…”
Chapter 2:
Oh God – where the fuck AM I? It’s…it’s cold and it’s dark…and there’s some crazy motherfucker with a knife up against my neck and he’s pressed right up to my ass and … and … and am I about to get raped? Shit. Where the hell is Mike? Where the hell is Tré?
I’m trembling, crying. I’ve never been so scared in my entire life. Please, let me go…put down the knife…
“P-please…” I try to stutter, but then he’s clamping that hand over my mouth again, and I can feel the blade cutting in a little more, that sharp nagging little sting just above my adam’s apple. Holy fucking shit…
“Shhh baby, it’s ok. No need to beg. I’ve got everything you could ever want right here...”
Oh my God he’s un-doing his zipper… I don’t fucking WANT that dude!
“P-please…no…not that…” I’m gasping and begging, and suddenly he’s stopping, one hand at his own waist, the other on the knife.
A single tear trickles down my cheek, pooling softly over my lip, and then suddenly he’s leaning forwards and kissing me hard. I try and struggle, try to break away, to get away from him, grunting my disapproval, but it’s no use. His tongue somehow manages to force it’s way in and I can feel his jaw moving as his mouth opens, making the kiss so deep that my own jaw aches. His tongue is so far down my fucking throat that I think I’m gonna choke…
“There!” he cries delightedly when he finally pulls away, letting me stagger back, gasping and trying to wipe at my mouth where my lip has started to bleed. “Now wasn’t that fun? There’s plenty more where that came from.”
Oh shit, no… this canNOT be happening…
I’m still gasping, reeling, trying to edge away from him, and he just doesn’t seem to care. Suddenly he doesn’t seem to see me anymore. What the hell?
I try to back away further, edging back into the darkness that surrounds us. There’s got to be a door somewhere, right? Oh shit –
I let out a strangled cry as something connects with the back of my calves, making me trip and fall backwards, banging my head on something hard. My heart right about leaps out of my body in shock and I wonder if I was hit or shot or…or something.
“Eager, aren’t we baby?” I hear that voice murmur, so deceptively calm and serene. And that’s when I realise that I’m not just on a couch, or a rug, or anywhere safe at all. I’m on a fucking bed.
Oh shit. I am so dead.
“No…no no no no no … please…don’t…” I hear myself beg, shaking, as he edges towards me. I see a gleam of light reflecting in his hand. The knife. Fuck. There is nowhere to fucking run. What the hell do I do? “Please … I’ll do anything…what do you want from me? J-Jake? P-please…”
SMACK!!!
“OW! FUCK!” I cry, as something thin and stinging and painful is whipped hard across my face, the end of it catching my chest. I hear his deliciously evil laugh, see him bend further over me, raising the whip/rope/cane/whateverthefuckitis over his head again.
“JESUS CHRIST!” I scream as it burns over my skin again. “What the FUCK?!”
SMACK SMACK SMACK!
“Oooooooowwwwwww!” I wail, the tears flowing freely again as I writhe in agony, clutching at my own chest and thighs to try vainly to stop the burning pain. Wriggling away is useless, he merely follows me or drags me back by the ankle. It’s times like this I wish I weighed a little more.
“Stop – you’re – miserable – com – plain – ing – bitch!” he screams, breaking up his words with a vicious whip from the weapon in his hand.
So I shut up. I continue to writhe and gasp and cry, because otherwise I think I would just crawl up in a ball and die, but I manage to stop forming any coherent words. And eventually, he’s satisfied, and he stops. Oh thank God, he stops…
I lie there, gasping, pain exploding out of every pore. Jesus Christ I AM GOING TO DIE.
“Shh baby, don’t cry…” he murmurs, suddenly scarily gentle, reaching out with one hand to wipe at my eyes, smearing my make up even further and only really spreading the salty tears across my face. “You should have known I’d do that. You naughty bastard, trying to sneak away like that. And you were with the others, before… you were with them when they weren’t with their owners. And you weren’t with me were you baby? You’re not allowed out without me baby. You know that. And they know that too. So now you all had to be punished…”
“Wh…wh…WHAT?!” I stutter, not understanding a fucking word he just said. What was that about ‘others’? Did he mean Mike and Tré?
He frowns slightly, still stroking my face. “You were with the others. Before. Without me there. And you’re not allowed to see them without me baby. That’s the rules.”
Oh shit. He has Mike and Tré too? But … but how? He hasn’t left since he took me… what the HELL is going on?
“But … but maybe you just forgot the rules baby…” he continues, sounding as if he’s trying to convince himself rather then talking to me. “Maybe…maybe I won’t have to punish you again…”
“Yes, yes!” I cry desperately. “I’ve learnt my lesson, I swear I have…please…please just let me go!”
But then suddenly he’s grabbing my chin, bringing our faces so close together that our noses touch. His eyes are glaring with such fire that I physically wince, trying to shrink back, away from him.
“Oh you aren’t going anywhere baby,” he whispers, his voice deadly dangerous. “Not until I hear you scream.”
I choose not to point out that he’s already made me scream enough, seeing as he’s replaced the whip once more with the knife. And it’s now dangerously close to my face. I can’t take my eyes off of it; I’m so fucking terrified. My breath is once more coming in fear-fuelled gasps, my whole body shaking as he grips me, waving the blade threateningly. I want to beg, to plead with him to stop, to get off, to go away…but I can’t. I just can’t. I’m paralysed with fear. I don’t know how often you’ve been abducted, threatened with a knife, whipped and basically scared shitless but – trust me, it’s not an experience I would wish on anyone.
“Ok baby,” he murmurs, his hands lowering from my face to stroke down over my sweat-soaked shirt. His fingers play with the buttons as I tense at the overly-personal touch. “You’re wearing far too many clothes for what I want to do to you…”
Oh shit man.
He slowly starts to unbutton my clothing, tugging it oh-so-gently off of my arms. I’m physically shaking now in my half-naked state, as his fingers ghost over the brutal red marks the whip left. I gasp at the soft touch on the painful sores, trying to arch away from him but to no avail. He strokes at my skin, tracing the marks over my ribs and stomach, that creepy-as-fuck smile of utter delight once more plastered across his face. His fingers eventually leave the trails from the whip, tickling further down, down to the lowest part of my stomach. I just about die as he starts to follow the small trail of hair leading from just below my belly button to out of sight under the material of my trousers. Just stop at my belt, please, just fucking stop…
But of course, he doesn’t. He merely smiles up at me before gently undoing the clasp and tugging at the fastening on my pants. Shitshitshitshit I’m about to get so fucking raped…
“Stop,” I say, my brain finally kicking into action, my hand reaching out to rest on his as he begins to tug the clothing from my thighs. “Please…stop…don’t do this…”
I have a moment of blinding panic when I think he’s going to get the knife on me again, but then he’s smiling softly and serenely (and, might I add, fucking creepily) and he simply lifts up my hand and pins it back above my head. He fumbles in his own pocket for a moment before retrieving something hard and metal which shines dully in the barely-there light. Oh fuck. Handcuffs.
“Hold still baby…”
Like I can fucking move with you lying on top of me, pinning me down. Oh God, just hurry up and fucking KILL ME if you have to…just get it over with…
I hear the lock clamp shut and close my eyes, groaning. There’s no fucking escape now…
“Baby, you are gonna have the best sex of your LIFE,” I hear him chuckle as the material slides down my legs, his fingers lingering far too long over my crotch area. I squirm uncomfortably, horribly embarrassed at being so exposed and quite unable to do anything about it.
“No…please…stop it…don’t…” is all I can groan out over and over, my head turning pathetically from side to side, trying to fight the growing panic in the pit of my stomach. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Oh, but I do,” he says with an evil little grin, his hands rubbing at my underwear before slipping up the legs of the material. He rubs at my thighs as he tugs my boxers off, making me writhe and try to shift away. He’s not supposed to touch me like this, make him stop, get him off, please, God…
“You are gonna love me after this baby,” he chuckles again, his head so close to my flaccid cock that whenever he breathes out it tickles at the sensitive skin. “Well…even more then you already do…”
I don’t fucking love you man, I don’t fucking know you and right now I fucking hate you…and OH MY GOD GET YOUR MOUTH OFF MY FUCKING PENIS YOU LITTLE SHIT!
*
Oh shit man. This stuff doesn’t happen to me. I don’t tend to get kidnapped/abducted/whatever the fuck you wanna call it. I’m Tré fucking Cool. And I’m not about to get raped god damnit!
Ok so I wasn’t actually thinking that at the time. It was more like ‘Oh shit man. I am about to fucking DIE.’ Yeah. Not exactly the same is it? But I was shitting myself. This dude, yeah, he was hot. But he was also strong. Scarily strong. And y’know – he could do some damage if he put his mind to it. Fuck, my head was still reeling from where he smacked me before. Jesus. The only way I was escaping this one was in a fucking body bag.
Not a pleasant thought.
Anyway, after the whole restaurant scene escapade, he dragged me back into this … old warehouse type place. It was so dark I could barely see a few inches in front of my face, and every now and then I could hear these horrible far-off screams off pain. I was so fucking scared.
And then…and then he reached for my belt…
And fuck. I never knew ‘bondage’ could hurt that much. I was screaming, crying. I never cry. But I did then. With this fucking weirdo psychopathic freak whipping me to within an inch of my life, and then he was taking off the rest of my clothes…
I sat, shivering and naked in that horrible, dirty, dark hellhole and just wished that I was dead. Because I’ve never experienced pain or fear like I experienced there.
There was a wonderful five minutes where he left me, and I thought maybe he was gone for good … only to have him return with a box full of ‘toys’. Only they weren’t much fun to play with.
*
I think I passed out. No, I’m pretty sure I passed out. Because one minute I was being squeezed to death in that fucking bathroom and the next thing I know I’m flat out on a couch in some random building, hands and feet tied together and a gag across my mouth. I blinked and moaned, all my ribs feeling like they were cracked in two. I tried to wriggle and move, but it was so dark that I could barely see, and I didn’t want to risk falling off the sofa onto some broken glass and cutting myself to death.
Of course, things only got worse when ‘Jake’ arrived. With his little ‘friend’. I hate guns. So bad. But I hated his gun the most. He kept hitting me with it, whenever I tried to speak or move. You have no idea how much that hurt. And I was absolutely petrified that any second…he was gonna pull that trigger. And that would be my last breath.
I’ve never felt so UN-safe in my entire life then I did with him then. And yeah, I was actually relieved when he started undressing me. Because at least that meant he put the fucking gun down.
Chapter 3:
OH MY GOD GET HIM OFF OF ME! Someone help me for fuck’s sakes! Ohhh Jesus…
But … I … I can’t help it; I’m ever so slightly bucking up into his mouth. I’m trying not to, honest I am, but … but I just can’t help it. He’s so damn good at it.
He runs his tongue over the head continuously, teasing so damn much, rubbing at the base with one hand, the other on my hips, holding me down. I couldn’t have escaped even if he hadn’t done that, being (as I am) chained to the bed, crying, in pain, and now utterly aroused. Yes, Mr Slut strikes again. But … but as much pleasure as he’s giving me, I’m still trying to convince myself that I’m not enjoying it. Of course I’m not. This guy has fucking hurt me. He’s fucking kidnapped me. I’m not just going to forgive and forget because he’s sucking me off. Hell no. But … but there’s not really much point in resisting is there? I might as well get into it, because then it will be over quicker. Because all he really wants is to see me come doesn’t he? That’s what it boils down to.
Heh. Just listen to me trying to convince myself. Who the hell am I fooling? I’m still abso-fucking-lutely terrified. I don’t want him this close, this personal to me. I don’t want a guy who has a frikking KNIFE anywhere near my dick. Least of all sucking it down his throat. But yeah. We can’t have everything can we?
I’m moaning now, having to fight the urge to reach down and press him further onto me. Not that I can anyway, being handcuffed to the bedpost. I have to content myself with bucking viciously into his mouth, forcing him to take me down his goddamn throat. Maybe I can make him gag, make him suffer. He fucking deserves it.
But he doesn’t cough and he doesn’t gag and he doesn’t choke. He merely grins up at me and swallows me down, tongue working furiously, swirling around the sensitive head and flicking at the vein on the underside. And I’m lost. I’m fucking lost in my captivator’s mouth. What the hell is WRONG with me? I’m thrusting properly now, moaning loudly, stretching my hands down to tug at my curly black hair, my toes clenching, mouth open as I welcome each new wave of pleasure with a breathy gasp. His head is bobbing in my lap so fast my eyes can’t keep up, so I scrunch them closed, sweat trickling down my forehead as I try to fight it, try to fight the pleasure that this MAN is giving me. This stranger who shouldn't be touching me like this, who I don’t WANT to be doing this.
“Arghn…..Jesus….” I growl between delicious, deep moans that escape from the very pit of my stomach. And I’m so damn close…
“SHIT!” I pant, as he rubs me just the right way, sucks just the right amount, presses and touches in every way that I love, that gets me going just so.
And then, before I know what’s going on, he’s pulling off with a filthy smack of his lips, that serene grin STILL ON HIS FUCKING FACE, his eyes shining so brightly even in this shitter then shit light.
“Why do you fight it baby?” he murmurs, reaching up to kiss me lightly, stroking my sweat-soaked skin and tangling his fingers in my hair. “You know you want it. I know you want it. Who’re you trying to fool?”
I don’t want it. I never wanted it, I never asked for it. Jesus, just leave me the fuck ALONE!
But all I can do is roll my head from side to side, feeling barely alive, my eyes half-closed, my breath coming in heavy gasps. Just fucking finish me off you prick…
“You want release don’t you baby?” he hisses in my ear, wiping at my smudged eyeliner, gazing down at my now-hard cock, slowly weeping pre-come.
No, NEVER! I always get random hard-ons and expect them to just go away. Of course I want fucking release! So just give me it and let me go!
“Poor baby,” he whispers, stroking my cheek. “You’re gonna have a long wait.”
Oh God no…
He reaches down for my crotch once more, eliciting a deep groan from me. He oh-so-slowly starts fingering the tender-as-fuck slit, just rubbing the tip of his index finger against it, delighting in the sticky substance he’s met with. I pant and moan, helpless beneath his touch, hips bucking. My face is creasing into a frown, my stomach is clenching, and I’m still trying to fight it, to fight this feeling. It’s a battle I’ve already lost. The delicious moans escaping my lips are dripping with desire, my whole body rocking upwards and downwards into his most feather-like of touches, my head rolling once more from side to side. As the tension builds and my body starts to shake, sweat dripping from every pore, I think that maybe this is it, this is the apocalypse he wants from me. That maybe this is about to be over. Just one crashing wall of white noise and light, and heaven and hell, and then he’ll let me go.
I think wrong.
Because he wasn’t lying before. I’m in for a long wait.
Just when I’m on that brink, that knife-edge, where I’m thrusting wantonly into his waiting hand, back arching, groans building – he stops me. His fingers pinch at the base of my cock, stopping the orgasm rising, stopping my delicious release.
Bastard.
I could have cried with frustration – I damn near did – but I had to content myself with gasping pathetically, cracking my eyes open to gaze down at him, cheek to thigh, blue orbs of lust taking in my every move, my every expression, every contour of my body. He grins up at me, his hand clamped hard on my penis, before he bites down viciously on my inside leg.
“AHH! Fuck!” I scream, arching in pain. But after a second even that feeling turns to pleasure – I’m just such a big ball of light and air and lust right now. “Jesus fu- just … please … just … just let me come! God, PLEASE!” I whine, writhing as he starts to tickle my crotch once again.
He laughs softly, deeply.
“I love the sounds you make,” is all he hisses in response. “I want you to make more of them. For me.”
Sick freak. Sick psychopathic freak. I refuse. You can’t make me. I can be silent. Of course I can.
I can.
Ohhh Jesus…
He had to choose THAT moment didn’t he? To softly lift my legs, to twist my ass a little higher into the air, to bend down and gently lick across the tightly clenching muscles of my hole.
“Holy SHIT!” I hear myself cry, voice strangled. I half leap out of my skin in shock, my toes curling mercilessly at the intense pleasure his tongue is giving me. Fucking slowly in and out, making me wail in desperate need as his fingers refuse to leave the base of my cock, refuse to grant me my sweet release. I’m arching into his touch, rocking down hard onto his invading tongue, sweating and crying and loving every minute of it. And simultaneously hating myself for doing just that.
“Oh God … please … ohGodohGod … you - you can’t do this!” I pant, feeling myself stretching apart, torn in two by my own intense pleasure.
“Oh, but I can,” he says, nuzzling my lower stomach with his face, licking at my sweaty skin as he replaces his tongue with a finger. Just a single finger. The very tip of it rubbing at my entrance, massaging and coaxing and making me groan and arch twice as hard.
Jesus Christ, I am about to EXPLODE.
“Please!” I moan, pulling at my restraints, bucking and writhing and moving and doing anything, anything at all that might give me that little bit more friction, that might be the key to pushing me over the edge. Coz right about now I think I’m either gonna have to come or die.
I hear him laugh, a laugh from the very pit of his stomach; low and throaty and utterly evil.
“Oh GOD!” I scream, pummelling at the bed with my feet, rocking down to grind that fingertip further into me. But no, he pulls back, pulls away, so that it’s still just ghosting at the edge.
Motherfuckingshit I need to come RIGHT FUCKING NOW! God, doesn’t he understand? Can’t he see how desperate I am? Christ, he’s one HELL of a crap lover…
Wait a minute - what the FUCK?! He’s not a goddamn LOVER! OHMYFUCKINGGOD! What is WRONG with me? Jesus fucking Christ…
Come on Billie, you gotta at least TRY to keep it together. Come on. You can do this. You can resist this. You can resist him. You’re better then him. He kidnapped you; he’s basically torturing you. Don’t get caught up in the moment. Whatever you do, don't get caught up in the moment. Just go with it. You’re fine. You’re gonna be alright. The best thing that can happen is an orgasm. The worst is rape and death.
Nothing to be scared of.
Nothing.
At all.
…………
Who the hell am I kidding?
“Baby,” he murmurs, breaking through my reverie. “Baby you want to come, don’t you?” His voice is sing-songy, full of delight and excitement (and not just a hint of lust either).
I nod frantically, toes and fingers clamping and clenching in my efforts to squash my desire.
“Yes! Yes, oh God, yes!” I gasp, locking eyes with him, trying to make him understand my desperate need. “Please … please just let me…”
“How bad do you want it baby?” he cuts in, eyes twinkling, voice full of challenge.
My heart thumps loudly. I have never wanted anything so bad in my entire life. But do I say that?
He has a knife, Billie Joe…
“Bad,” I admit, breathing the word out in a little gasp as his finger fucking finally pokes a little deeper. “I want it bad.”
“How bad?” Jake repeats, stroking up my rock-hard cock with his other hand, teasing at my skin and making me writhe again.
“Nngh…bad…so bad…so, so bad…” I gasp, rocking down, eyes flickering shut as I moan and push him deeper. And this time he lets me. Is this it…?
He laughs again. “That’s good…”
And then he’s pushing the whole of his finger inside me, making me moan from the very depths of my stomach, maybe from my cock itself, and shift and writhe all over again. He watches, the blue in his eyes gleaming in the dark, as I slowly fuck myself on the single digit. He positively beams at the rasps of delight floating from my throat, and gently leans forwards to catch my pursing, open mouth in a tongue-filled kiss.
“Ohh…” I hear from somewhere as he breaks away, knowing that it most likely came from me. “Ohh Jesus…”
“So…” he begins again, stroking at my nipple as soft as soft can be, making me arch so high I think my spine is gonna snap. “You want it bad. You want it real bad.”
“I do!” I cry, my voice turning into a low wail. “Oh GOD I do!”
“So…what would you do to come?” he murmurs, piercing eyes never leaving my face, even as my own eyelids flicker open and closed in time with my rocking. “Would you do … anything?”
My eyes snap open at that, regarding him warily as I continue to move up and down, backwards and forwards, groaning almost absentmindedly.
“Anything?” I breathe.
He smiles that evil little smile again, before that calm, creepy voice is crawling once more into my ear.
“Anything.”
And suddenly I’m far, far too aware of the overwhelming aching in my cock, in the bottom of my stomach, of the desire and pleasure and goddamn animal lust flowing through me and over me and everywhere around me. I can feel so clearly his finger in my ass, corkscrewing and massaging over and over, right on that nub deep inside of me, can feel the sweat pooling down me, feel my head breaking in two. I crack open my eyes and gaze down at my own erection, see myself straining and leaking as he STILL fucking holds me.
And then I’m sighing, collapsing back onto the sheets with a small groan of defeat.
“Yes,” I whimper finally. “Yes I’d do anything.”
And his grin of triumph burns into my mind as I give myself up totally.
*
“Oh! OWWW! For fuck’s SAKES!” I scream, wincing and crying and wishing that I was dead.
But he doesn’t stop. He simply laughs, low and throatily. I can imagine his green eyes glittering maniacally (seeing as my own eyes are pressed tightly shut in pain) as he raises my own belt over his head yet again. I try to brace myself for it, squeezing my eyes closed as tight as tight can be, biting my lip and digging my fingernails into my palms. But I’m still not prepared enough. I scream, long and loud, as the hard biting material meets my soft skin, cutting into the raised pink marks put there by the exact same weapon and the exact same person only moments before.
“Good GOD!” I hear from somewhere, the voice choked and broken and mixed up with racking sobs. “Stop! For God’s sakes STOP!”
I hear that laugh again, answering those frightened words with simply more torment, whipping at me again and again until I’m curled up in a ball on the grubby floor, and all I can feel is pain shooting through every pore of my being.
But … eventually he does stops. Only when I’m so broken that I don’t even have the energy left in me to beg for mercy.
“Baby?” I hear him call, voice suddenly concerned at my own sudden silence.
I hear him step forwards, feel his hands stretch out to rub at the screaming skin of my back. He feels me shake slightly as the tears roll out of me, and it seems to relieve him, seems to assure him that I am still alive. His hands become firmer, stronger, more purposeful. He wraps them around me, right around my chest, holding me close to him as I cower, naked and shivering.
“Oh baby, I’m sorry,” he whispers, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I love you baby, I swear I do … you just needed to be punished. I’m sorry. Oh, come here. Let me make it up to you, let me kiss it better…”
And then suddenly his lips are on my skin, running across my shoulders and down my aching arms as he crouches behind me. His free hands massage at the painful sores that my own belt left me.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he breathes between kisses, beautiful pouting lips dancing over my body.
And … and I hate to say it, but … as much as his violence before terrified me, this show of affection manages to soothe me.
Just a little.
“Please…” I murmur, finally finding my voice again. “Please … just let me go…”
I feel him shake his head, his lips and teeth gently tugging at my skin.
“I can’t baby, I can’t,” is his whispered reply, hands still ghosting over my aching, screaming body.
I bite back the urge to say “You can”, fearing yet another violent outburst. I allow myself a small groan of misery, which very quickly turns into an unwanted gasp of delight as he starts to plant barely-there kisses all the way down my spine, fingertips still rubbing and massaging. When he reaches the top of my ass I feel him pause momentarily, and I consider telling him to get the fuck off, but think better of it. And before I know what’s happening, he’s pulling my thighs apart and continuing with his gentle caresses. I moan lightly at his soft-as-can-be touch on my sensitive skin, feeling him go low, so damn low … and … and god damnit … I can feel myself beginning to harden despite my best attempts at self-control.
“Stop it … please…” I whine, trying to pull away. But suddenly his hands are on my hips, if anything bringing me closer to him, and his tongue is at my hole…
Aww shit.
And now I’m panting, trying my hardest not to rock back onto the wet warmth that’s invading me, trying to stop him fucking doing this.
But, of course, it’s no use.
He starts jabbing his tongue back and forward, in and out, fucking me hard and fast with it until I’m groaning loudly, begging him to stop, begging him for more, thrusting into empty air and tugging at my own hair and face. I wail, wanting release, wanting more and wanting him to get off at the same time … and I’m so mixed up and confused and fucking high on my own pleasure that I don’t know what to do, what’s going on … anything.
And then … nothing. It stops, he pulls away. I sigh in relief, slumping forwards slightly.
“Oh no,” I hear that deadly whisper, far too close for comfort, his breath tickling my ear. “Don’t relax yet, baby.”
I tense automatically, as I feel his fingertips running down my arms, ghosting over my skin.
“We haven’t even started yet.”
And oh my God he’s reaching for his box…
I try to crawl away, scrambling on the rubbish-strewn floor, but he merely laughs and tugs me back, one forceful hand on my shoulder. I feel the power in that grip once more.
I am so dead.
I try to wriggle, mewling frantically, not knowing what he’s planning on doing to me and quite frankly not caring.
“Oh God, no … please … please don’t…”
I shouldn’t be begging like this, I shouldn’t be reduced to this wreck of a man … but I am. I can’t help it. I’m fucking terrified.
“Shush,” he says, and suddenly his voice isn’t soft, it isn’t calm, it’s a command, an order. And fuck it if I’m not gonna obey. My belt is after all still dangerously close to hand…
“SHIT!” I scream, as rigid as a board as something is thrust hard up my ass. It’s not a finger, it’s not a cock, it’s…
Oh God, what is it?!
*
Oh … my … God…
This is it. This is actually it. The end. Of everything. I’m gonna die. Right now.
Shit.
Oh Jesus, just put the gun down, for God’s sakes put the gun down…
“AHH!” I scream, blinding pain shooting through me, completely taking over me.
Is this it? Am I dead? Did he shoot me?
No. I’m still alive. Still breathing. What the fuck just happened? Might help if I opened my eyes…
Oh.
I wasn’t expecting … that.
“Wh … wh … what are you doing?” I gasp shakily, tears of utter terror pooling at the corners of my vision.
“What you want me to do.”
I don’t want you to do anything except to GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME.
“Wh … bu … I don’t understand,” I damn near sob, face crumpling with confusion, heart pounding.
A grin. And a wink.
What? What is going on?
“Oh c’mon baby, don’t fight it. Don’t lie, don’t pretend. You want this just as much as me,” he sneers, stroking at my cheek, his other hand, the one with the gun, somewhere out of sight. Somewhere near my crotch. Fuuuuck.
I mumble something incoherently, shaking my head, letting myself sob properly now. I hate not knowing. And this whole situation is not fucking helping much.
“Please …” I beg, tugging at my own hair in despair, shaking the tears from my eyes. “Please just put the gun down…”
He frowns slightly at the words and looks down at his hand as if seeing it for the first time. He runs his gaze over the weapon, taking in the contours of the metal, the weight of it in his hand. He sighs sadly, before … putting it down.
I can’t believe it. He actually put it down. What the HELL is going on?
“Anything for you, baby,” he says, his voice light and sweet and his touch just as gentle.
I allow myself a small sigh of relief and relax visibly, eyes never leaving his face.
And suddenly, he’s pulling me close, into a tight embrace, and I stiffen slightly, remembering last time.
“You’re safe with me, baby, you’re always safe with me,” he murmurs, the hand on my face moving to stroke my freshly-dyed hair, the other still out of sight down by my waist. “Don’t be scared, please don’t be scared…”
Why is he being so … nice?
His fingers begin to stroke me through the material of my trousers, rubbing softly and eliciting the smallest of whines from the back of my throat, and I sink into him just the tiniest bit more. I feel him smile against my cheek, the pressure from his hand becoming suddenly harder, more vigorous, more persistent. I can’t help how my body starts to react to this most simple of ministrations.
“Ahh …” I moan, breathing starting to become heavier, moans building in the pit of my stomach, hips ever-so-slightly starting to buck.
“So safe,” he murmurs, continuing his gentle torture. “So very safe with me.”
Chapter 4:
“You’re such a good baby,” he coos, stroking my face and hair as I shiver, sprawled languidly across the sheets. “So good.”
I don’t comment, I merely gasp, continuing to move against that finger, eyes clamped firmly closed.
“But deep down, I know that you’re not good. Not really.”
Oh?
“Deep down, you’re dirty. Filthy. A slut. A whore. My slut. My whore.”
I moan loudly, his weird, creepy words turning me on even more.
What the hell is WRONG with me?
“Please…” I manage to choke out, my whole body shaking and sweating and positively glowing with lust. “Please … just fuck me … or – or something. ANYTHING…”
He chuckles, low and throatily.
“See? I knew you were a slut. A filthy slut. Just look at you, lying there, begging me to fuck you. Begging me to let you come,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly with desire as his lips ghost over my ear. “You want me to grab hold of your cock and rub you to release. You want me to plunge myself into that clenching ass of yours and rub against your spot until you scream your pleasure to the heavens. You want me to suck you down until your balls are banging against my lips. Don’t you?”
I moan again. For FUCK’S SAKES…
“DON’T YOU?!” He accents his words with a sharp tug at my penis, making a small choking sound of pleasure escape from the back of my throat.
“Yes!” I cry desperately. “Yes, yes, YES! I do, I do! So for GOD’S SAKES will you just HURRY THE FUCK UP!”
Suddenly, that finger is pulled out of me sharply, and he moves away, off of me. What? What the fuck is going on?
And then his hands are at the handcuffs, fumbling with the lock until they fall away, discarded and unnoticed on the edge of the bed. I gasp as the feeling returns to my wrists and I quickly rub my fingers together, biting my lips at the slight pain as my circulation returns to normal.
“Oh no,” he says, grabbing one hand, pulling it away from the other. “You’re not meant to be rubbing that…”
Oh fuck.
He slowly lowers my hand, tracing it down my own body, circling my nipples and going on to tickle my lower belly. I groan at the touch. And then he’s leading my hand even lower, down between my legs to where my erection is straining, and he slowly wraps my own fingers around it.
“I think you know what to do,” he says with a smile.
Hell yes.
I clench my hand tighter and slowly start to stroke myself, drawing out small gasps as the pleasure rolls through me. I keep my gaze fixedly on his face, on his small smile, his gleaming deliciously-blue eyes, as I pump myself, fingers teasing as I work myself up to climax.
“Ohh….oh…” I groan quietly, my own touch turning me on immensely.
I feel dirty, like I’m his own private porn show. I kind of like it.
“Ahh…oh God…”
My thighs begin to shake and my eyelids automatically snap shut, my whole body tensing as I feel myself get close. My hand is moving faster now, up and down my own length, giving me that friction I so badly craved just moments before.
Even with my eyes closed I can feel him watching me, feel him smiling indulgently.
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