The Voice in the Dar

The Voice in the Dark

Chapter Three

By Ravenna933

Hello, my most patient and caring readers.

I hope you are well and thank you once again for reading my series. Welcome to the third chapter in Jess' story.

Yes, waiting for this chapter has probably tested your patience to the limit, and I thank you to all who have been here supporting me from the beginning, and welcome to any new readers and followers who have chosen to read my series.

Before we begin, I would like to thank my editors and beta readers for all their hard work, patience and understanding as I completed this chapter. Your encouragement and constructive feedback really means a lot to me. A writer is nothing without their readers.

Secondly,

while this story may seem like it skirts the line between consent and non-consent, remember that this type of kink is entirely voluntary in real life and can be used to better your life. I don't condone any kind of awful behavior that comes from practitioners of this kink. Remember that submission is based on consent and desire, not obligation or brute force.

Thirdly, I encourage you to check out my profile for information about a fellow content creator here on Literotica. If you're looking to find a voice as hypnotic as Smith's, this is the place to go. Thank you for being such an inspiration.

Finally, understand that the type of writing I enjoy is the kind that attempts to push the boundaries of what is considered acceptable. Of course, the line is never fully crossed but it comes very close. I want to write about the depths of human desire and how we respond to it in ways we are not fully conscious of. This kind of submission is done in a non-judgemental environment and with someone who is responsible.

Take care, and I hope you enjoy it.

All the best,

Ravenna

His hands run up and down the sides of my body as my hands find their way into his hair. I want to eat him alive, I am so needy for him. The silk navy fabric of my dress is not spared the desperation of his hands and I hear a rip as he turns me around so I am facing away from him. His lips kiss up and down the side of my neck as he moves my hair to one side, and the little remains of my dress fall away from me so I am left only in my lacy panties.

His hands latch onto my breasts from behind and I can feel the desperation in his body, hear it in his voice. His hands seem to be clutching onto me for dear life and I moan in pleasure as I feel his grip tighten. I don't feel any shame or guilt, all I know is that I want this man inside me. I need him.

"Jess, Baby. I can't control myself now. This is really your last chance to tell me to stop. I promise I won't be angry, I just need you to know that after that I may not be gentle if you decide to go forward with this. You understand?"

I nod in understanding, but he squeezes my hip so roughly I say:

"Yes Smith, I understand. Please don't make me wait."

His voice suddenly changes from a soft, sensual tone to one that is slightly rougher, more forceful.

"You'll wait as long as I tell you, little slut."

His voice was always powerful enough to make me forget common sense, but this is the first time I have ever felt real fear in my arousal.

He pushes me to the bed and almost before I know where I am, the weight and force of his body traps me underneath him. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest and the blood is roaring in my ears, but it's like his presence tells me that all is well. He is still dressed in his grey jacket and white shirt and the blue fabric of his jeans grinds against my almost completely naked body. I close my eyes and feel his strong hands moving all over me, his lips following where his hands lead.

His lips are pillow soft and my hands find their way into his dark hair as his hands make quick work of my panties, where they end up inside his pocket rather than on the floor.

I smile wickedly but don't say anything as he begins to quickly undo his jeans and remove his jacket and shirt. I want to watch him undress, but my eyes can no longer remain open and my head falls back against the pillow.

"That's right Jess. Fall deeper for me. Don't resist me."

"Smith, what's happening to me?" I try to say more forcefully, but it just comes out as a whisper. I have never felt this sleepy and weak before. I try to piece together why this feels so familiar, but before I can really focus, his naked body is on top of me. He is gripping me in his strong hands and my hips arch up to meet his pelvic area with such abandon I am past caring how I may look.

"Look at you, little slut. You're dying to be my little plaything, aren't you. How much do you want me inside you? Fucking you? Making you mine over and over?"

I don't have the energy to open my eyes, but as he kisses and licks his way up my body, his hands grip my wrists and press them into the mattress. I know I should feel scared and I try to squirm away but the heaviness in my chest and eyes leaves me powerless. I can feel my body writhing outside of my control as Smith kisses up and down my neck and chest.

It's then that I feel it. His teeth sink into my shoulder, slowly at first but the pressure gradually increases and I fear he may draw blood. I should be desperate to get away right now, but I'm not. Even if I wanted to, Smith's hard, heavy body has me completely pliable underneath him. His hands grip my wrists even tighter, and I can feel them moving slowly upwards towards my head before he urges me to wrap my legs around his waist.

"Look at me, Jess. Open your eyes and look at me." His more gentle tone is back and I want to scream out for him to continue, but looking into his eyes stops me in my tracks. I bite my lip as his beautiful brown eyes suddenly become the only thing I can see.

It's like the moment where you feel like you're about to pass out, but your mind latches onto one thing before darkness sweeps over your vision.

"Stare into my eyes, Jess. You know you can't resist me. Nor do you want to."

He's hard between my legs and I can feel his chest move against mine rapidly. Sweat begins to pour from his body onto mine and any movement I make, however small, seems to make him press me deeper into the mattress. I am caught between a rock and a very hard place.

And yet strangely, I have never felt safer with him, even when he has me pinned like prey trapped by a wild animal.

"Oh baby. You have such a look in your eyes when you submit to me. I know what a huge relief it is for you. Do you have any idea what it does to me?"

As if in answer to his own question, I feel his hips move forward ever so slightly, his cock throbbing with desire. It begins to move towards my entrance, but to my ever present frustration, he doesn't fully penetrate me. From the look on his face, he's enjoying my helplessness, my need, my desperation.

"Please Smith, er, Master. Please..." I say breathily, trying to move my hips upwards a little more, but one of his hands grabs both of my wrists and the other hand pushes my hip down into the mattress.

"Don't move, Jess. Believe me, you'll want to be still for this."

I am about to ask him what he means when the scene fades, and he vanishes from my sight. I call out his name, desperate to know why. I cover myself as best I can and try to sit up but there's still a feeling of weakness in my limbs that I can't overcome and my eyes snap shut.

And for just the briefest moment, I am quite certain I hear the clicking of a finger, and the word, Sleep, before all is lost to me.

***

My body is stiff and my mouth feels like it is stuffed with cotton as I sit up slowly. I take in the room around me and frown as I find myself back on the sofa in my own apartment. My shoes and bag are on the floor around me and my first reaction is one of confusion.

The second is shock, and I look down to find myself still in the navy silk dress from last night. I search around for my phone and see that it's exactly 6:30, and my stomach flips at how much time I have lost between going to the bar, and when I ended up back on my sofa. I try to remember moments from the night but my brain is foggy and I can feel the start of what I suspect may be a vicious hangover. I groan at the thought and make my way quietly out of the living room, being careful not to wake Lucy.

I pick up my bag and shoes and tip toe to my bedroom before grabbing my dressing gown and making my way to the bathroom. I turn on the light and my eyes sting as they adjust. My appearance is a far cry from how nice I looked before we headed out last night. My dress is wrinkled and looks out of place on my body so I peel it off and it takes a moment to register that my black lacy panties are missing.

Did I leave them in my bag? Did Lucy take them home?

Either is a possibility, and I am wondering idly where they could have gone as I comb out the knots in my now limply curled hair. As I brush it to one side, I notice a very strange mark on my shoulder, and I stare at it trying to work out what it is, and my eyes widen at the realization.

A bite mark.

Who could have given me this? Why wouldn't I remember that?

I don't remember having a huge amount to drink, although my memory is not a hundred percent reliable these days. I can't rule out the possibility that I drank more than I thought, and did things that I don't remember. I mean, Lucy has done that many times, and I have watched

The Hangover

films enough times to know that crazy shit can happen when alcohol is involved.

Yet, a lot of that just doesn't sit comfortably with me. I can't entirely blame the alcohol for all that is happening to me lately, and my experience on the train this week reinforces this worry. It may just become a convenient excuse to justify reckless behavior, and I have a good talk with myself as I shower, allowing all the confusion to simply fall away into the drain.

I emerge a new woman, and I tackle the make up dribbling down my face like an oil slick with a cotton pad. I also listen for any sign that Lucy might be awake. She's an early riser at the best of times, and I hope that her hangover, or possibly Ricardo, has distracted her long enough not to catch me just coming back in.

I know I will have to face her questions eventually, but she doesn't need my crazy antics right now after all she revealed to me last night. Our flirtation and easy sexual chemistry aside, I care about her and don't wish to pile more worry on to her than need be. I want her to use this time to get to know Ricardo, and possibly try to form a more long lasting relationship with him than I could give her. I know we will continue to sleep together, but I wonder just how much of that Ricardo could tolerate.

I also faintly wonder as to what her mother could possibly want so much that she would come to New York. In the three years Lucy has been here, Mrs West has never once visited, and Lucy only came home for Christmas after much convincing. She much preferred to erase her family and past life from her mind completely, but would be pulled back against her will every time the phone rang with another distressed call from her mother. I suppose there is only so much crap a person can take before they lose it, but the exact circumstances as to why she left her hometown remain unclear.

I sigh, knowing just how much this will mess with Lucy's head, and now at a time when she needs calm and self-assurance to make it work with Ricardo. Now that I am on more solid ground, I need to be a better friend than I have been to her lately. After all the times she has allowed me to cry my eyes out and be such a mess of a person, it's the least I can do to help her get on the right track with Ricardo.

I can imagine my arms around her as she places her head in the nook of my shoulder. I'd comb my fingers through her long, fiery red hair and kiss the top of her head. I'd just allow her to get out what's troubling her. I make my way back to my room quietly, and try not to think about the very real problem that could come between her and Ricardo. I care about Lucy and want to see her happy, but I don't know how much I am motivated by genuine caring, or just wanting to keep my best friend and occasional sex partner to myself.

I know that we won't ever really be more than friends, despite our sexual attraction, but I worry that her and Ricardo's growing closeness will mean I am pushed to the side. Lucy never seemed to show any sadness or jealousy at the fact that I made us go back to platonic friends after all the things we had done. I was torn between my growing feelings for Justin and the wild lust I had for Lucy, and was tired of feeling so confused. Yet, I always felt comforted thinking about her, and not exactly in an innocent way. When Justin and I fought, both during our relationship, and towards the end, I would imagine Lucy pinching my nipples from behind, or fucking my eager pussy with her fingers. I would try to sneak past her perpetually open doors as she went about her business. My keen eye watched her move around in little more than her shorts and tank top, and I would blush in embarrassment when she caught me staring. She never said anything, but a flash of wickedness in her green eyes made me go to bed imagining our previous encounters as I had a session with my vibrator.

I push aside these thoughts as I take my customary glass of cold water to bed with me, and I am walking down the hall when I catch a glimpse through Lucy's door. She's lying on her side curled up in Ricardo's arms, and the contrast of flaming red and inky black hair is just stunning to look at. Ricardo is every bit as handsome as she described. He's half naked with loose shorts that sit just below his waist. He's toned and well proportioned, and his hard body meshes very well with her feminine curves. His hands rest at the small of her back and his head lies next to hers on the pillow. He has a lovely jawline and Latin sensuality oozes from his face, even in sleep. He holds her close and I have never seen Lucy look more relaxed. My heart warms at the sight.

I have only ever heard him before, and now that I have seen what he looks like, I am much more secure in how he will treat my friend. He seems like a man who will give Lucy the comfort and protection she needs. After so long looking after everyone else, she deserves to be pampered and spoiled. I can tell from the mess they have made on the floor that they have fooled around but to what extent I don't know. I can only imagine that it was warm, loving and open. Something Lucy so desperately needs from him, even if she won't admit it to herself.

It always amazed me how easily Lucy could move from relationship to relationship without much thought, and part of me wanted to know why, but she would laugh at me whenever I asked if she was okay after a break up and instead pushed me up against the wall, then pulled down my knickers and latched her mouth onto my pussy as if starved for the taste of me.

Isn't it always said that women provide each other with refuge when men are simply too infuriating to be around?

I remember one night she came home late after work. It was a few months before I met Justin, and I was worried about the length of time she had been gone. I waited for her to come back so we could eat together, and I had been trying not to read too much into our encounters, dismissing them as one-offs. After a series of unfulfilling Tinder dates and short-term boyfriends, I wanted to find something more long lasting, and was prepared to say once and for all that I wouldn't sleep with her anymore if it meant finally finding my dream guy.

I was standing by the stove adding the finishing touches to our meal when I heard the door slam shut and her shoes being kicked against the door as she loudly called out my name. I occupied myself with the cooking, trying to hide my blush.

"You hungry?' I asked sweetly, "We have spaghetti and meatballs. Your favourite."

She didn't say anything but took me in wearing my nightgown and silk robe as I tried my best not to shake with... oh, I don't know. I can't say fear, as nothing about her really frightens me, but I can't say that I was entirely comfortable in her presence at that moment either.

"Bad day at the office?" I joked, and I went to the fridge to retrieve a bottle of wine, then reached up to the cupboard for two glasses. Again, she remained silent, but I could feel her gaze on me.

"We signed a couple of new authors today," I continued, "there's some great new talent coming up." I set the table and we sat down to a mainly one sided conversation. Even as Lucy ate her dinner, she barely took her eyes off me, and she greedily drank the wine and slurped the spaghetti into her mouth without care of making a mess. I squirmed in my seat under her gaze.

Her hand would occasionally move to my wrist as she reached out to the breadbasket and traveled up my arm, slowly caressing me. She then went back into the kitchen for something and came up from behind me a few moments later. Her hands then went to my shoulders, up my neck and towards the sides of my face. I wanted to lean into her touch and enjoy my friend's soft hands on my body again, but I could tell from her aura that being gentle was not her intention that night.

Remembering my resolution, I tried not to get flustered as we finished up, and I took the dishes into the kitchen. I had begun putting the dishes into the dishwasher when her hands slipped under my robe and dressing gown from behind. They probed, groped and teased as I moaned in her grip. I then shook my head and removed her hands, but they just latched onto my breasts instead and she began kissing my neck.

"Lucy. Stop it. I have to...," but I lost my words as I knew it was useless to resist. Her hands were on my breasts, pinching my nipples, and I could feel myself getting wet.

"Never mind about that, Jess. I want you, and I am gonna have you. Now, stop being a little tease and come to bed with me."

I allowed her to lead me by the hand without any further resistance, and she stripped me bare before slipping her fingers roughly into me.

I bite my lip and feel the redness on my chest as I make my way back to my bed, but not before taking one last look at the attractive couple. I am tired and confused. I need the oblivion of sleep, and the assurance of the old saying:

All will be well in the morning.

I resolve to help Lucy make her relationship with Ricardo work, no matter what. I want her to always be happy. She's my best friend after all. Yet, even as my eyes fall shut out of exhaustion, my brain is still straining to remember all that has happened tonight. My memory is a haze of things left unsaid and moments never remembered.

I wake with a pounding head and an even foggier memory. I can hear music playing in the kitchen and the smell of Lucy's french toast fills the air, making my mouth water. I stretch and check the side clock on my bedside table: 11:00 AM.

I sit up carefully and wrack my brains for an explanation. Even after some much needed sleep, I am no wiser to the reason for the gaps in my memory than I was earlier this morning. My pussy throbs in memory of Lucy's hand under my dress on our night out. I also remember flashes of her red hair next to inky black on the pillow as I watched from afar.