Cant Take My Eyes Off You Ch 02

Author's Notes: These two chapters are essentially a rewrite of The Take-Out but I've made quite a few changes so I'm posting them with a brand-new title. I may take down the two Take-Out chapters eventually. :)

I spent the entire night squirming in my bonds, dozing off here and there because I was exhausted from my ordeal. The vibe in me had run out of battery, thankfully, and now lay in me, constantly reminding me what it was tasked to do- to keep someone else's seed in me. I had nudged the blindfold off and was able to keep watch on the time as it ticked doggedly by. The bedsheets beneath my ass was wet from the multiple orgasms it had wrung from me, the pillow he had placed under me on the floor next to the bed. My wrists hurt and my legs were stiff.

On the upside, I guess I didn't have to worry about staying up for the possible concussion from my head injury.

There was just one thing. I really really needed to pee.

Ideally, I wanted to shower too, wanted to clean and scrub several layers of myself off. All the parts which he had touched, all of the skin which he had placed his lips on. It made me feel soiled, uncleaned. Especially when I had orgasmed for him, this stranger who had come into my house and taken everything which was sacred to me, tore off whatever illusions I had and made me face the harsh reality.

Would I call for help? I didn't know. If what he had said about my husband was the truth, would he stay with me if I tell him what happened to me, or would he use it as an excuse to leave me? I felt like I couldn't trust him anymore.

These were questions I wouldn't ask before, when our marriage wasn't shaky.

In the meantime, physical concerns occupied my mind. My bladder felt like bursting and I had to hold still so I wouldn't put more pressure on it. Even the tiniest movement was torment to me. If he didn't come back soon, I might just pee on the bed.

The thought of it happening made me clench my fists in humiliation.

He had stolen parts of me that couldn't be replaced. I couldn't let him destroy more of me.

I wanted to go to the bathroom so desperately that I wished he would return. My mind wanted to rebel but my body was weak.

I heard a slight jingle of keys. I froze, my eyes darting to the doorway. My ears strained to catch the smallest sound other than the ticking of the clock. It wouldn't be my husband, would it? It had to be him, the invader, my rapist. He said he would come in the morning, didn't he? As fear spread outward through my body, I realized that I hadn't given much thought as to what he wanted with me from now on.

He finally appeared at the doorway and all breath left my lungs. He had changed into another pair of fitted jeans and a white shirt. His face was cheerful, his ice blue eyes bright and eager when they fell on me. His chestnut brown hair was spiked, looked as though he had just come out of the shower. I hadn't noticed the sound of a car just now, which meant he must have lived close enough to walk over.

He looked clean and fresh and probably smelled good. I, on the other hand, was pretty sure that my hair was a mess and there were stains on my inner thighs that made my skin itch.

If I had met him anywhere else, I would have been pleased with his attention. I'd even go so far to say that I'd be interested in getting to know him if I hadn't been married. Too bad beneath that appealing exterior was a monster.

I wanted to hold onto my dignity and tell him to scram, but between my pride and bladder, my full bladder won.

"Please untie me. I really need to go to the bathroom, please." I spoke urgently after he stood there for a few minutes just staring at me. It unsettled me, probably because he appeared as though he would be content to do it for the rest of the day.

Remember what he said about watching me?

Fine lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes as his grin widened. "Poor kitty. Are you uncomfortable?" He came towards me, reached out a hand to stroke along my inner thigh. I shivered, tensed and my pussy clenched around the vibrator in me. My bladder protested.

I wanted to move away from him, but I resisted the urge. All thoughts of running away would have to wait until I was untied, and after the bathroom trip. I had to pretend to be subdued, to be good. I forced tears into my eyes, which wasn't too hard when one's nerves were stretched to the max. "I really need the bathroom. Please let me go. Please."

I threw in a few more 'please's while looking up at him with the most pitiful expression I could muster.

It worked. His hand trailed up to my face, wiped off the tears from my eyes. He sat down on rhe bed, the sinking of the mattress when he did so send another wave of agony through me.

The obvious discomfort that I was in entranced him. He ran his fingers over my breasts, pinched them and tugged at them. He poked at my stomach, the flatness of which I had been proud of maintaining. I whimpered, shifted my limbs uneasily, afraid that I would wet the bed in front of him.

"Please, let me go to the bathroom first." I pleaded.

He raised a brow. "And then I can do whatever I want with you?"

I hesitated. I hadn't meant to insinuate that. But I nodded, because whatever plans he had, and whatever escape ideas I could come up with, they would all come after I released my bladder.

"Yes. Anything you want. But please, I'd like to go to the bathroom." I shamelessly lied to him.

He considered it, searching my face for any untruths. He seemed to be satisfied with what he saw because he nodded. My body relaxed.

Too bad I was wrong.

His large palm cupped my sex, his fingers entered me, searching for the vibe he had placed in me. "But, sweet kitty, you're already mine to do with whatever I want."

Between my legs, my flesh was swollen from use, bright red and tender. He pried my folds apart and found the vibe, pulled it out. I hated that he would touch me this way, used me however he liked, as though we were intimate lovers. Yet my body remembered his touch, remembered the feel of his cock in me, remembered how I orgasmed with him pounding in me. Even the act of his semen pouring in me excited me.

I shut my eyes as his fingers sank back into my pussy again. Despite the persistent throbbing of my bladder, I could feel myself getting wet, enjoying the sensations he aroused in me as he thrust them in and out, each time sliding easier as I put out more lubrication for his easier access.

Was I a slut to respond this way? I didn't know.

He watched the emotions filter across my face, played with my body as though I was a toy with buttons he could press and levers he could pull to get a reaction. When his thumb brushed my clit, I couldn't help but wriggle away. He let me draw away from him, even though I couldn't get far. I was panting, beads of perspiration dotted my forehead.

"I thought you said you wanted to go to the bathroom?" He asked genially.

My heart pounded loudly in my rib cage as I assimilated his words. Did he mean- No- He couldn't possibly-

"If you want me to release you, bring yourself to me and let me bring you off." His face glowed as he spoke. His lips were curved.

He did. How did I forget that he was a monster? Tears fell down my cheeks, genuine ones this time. There was no way I could orgasm and not pee in bed. A flush crept across my cheeks. My skin felt hot and cold.

He didn't move, waited for my decision. After a few minutes of me staring right back at him in obstinate silence, he got up.

"Well, I guess you don't really need to go to the bathroom after all. I can always come back in the afternoon."

I almost screamed out loud. I knew he had defeated me again.

"Please, don't. Come back." He was making me beg for it, beg for him. "I'll do it."

He cocked his head to one side and stared at me impassively. "Do what?"

Humiliation and embarrassment were twin fires which burned beneath my skin, made me warm and red.

"Please, I'll do it." I wriggled my hips towards him, swallowing nervously. If there was one thing he had taught me, it was to listen to him. Nothing bad would happen if I was good. "I'll do what you say."

A sinister gleam appeared in his eyes, made me shiver. "And what did I say?"

I bit my lip, hard. Of course he would make me repeat what he said. "That you'll help me orgasm."

He sat back down in bed again, caressing my face with his hand. The unholy light had vanished from him, replaced with tenderness.

"Sweet kitty," He murmured as he lowered his head to the hollow of my neck, kissed the sensitive flesh there. "My beautiful kitty. Lovely kitty."

He nibbled my earlobe, my breath catching. I had to hold myself still, keep my face blank, even though my stomach rolled in revulsion. He caught my lips and forced it open, his tongue swept in gently, teased my mouth until I was gasping.

Then he let me go, hovering above me as he said, "Sweet kitty, if you want something you should ask for it nicely."

I was sure I heard an explosion go off in my mind. I trembled a little from the ferocity of it. I wanted to scream, to yell at him. He wanted me to ask him for an orgasm, to beg for it, when the fact was, I hadn't wanted it one bit! I lowered my lashes, wanted to hide the anger in my eyes.

The clock on the nightstand ticked by steadily.

I drew in a breath, stared at him and whispered shakily, "Please. Please make me come."

He knew I didn't want it, that I fought him all the way. There was no way I could hide it, and I wasn't a good liar. He considered me, until I thought he would make me repeat all of it again. But he got between my spread legs, his fingers probing my entrance. His erection was already hard, its discernable shape pushing against the front of his jeans.

His fingers invaded me again and I couldn't deny how good they felt. How long was it since I had sex? If I had more sex with my husband, would I still respond to him this way?

I had no answer to these questions, no way of answering all the maybes and the what ifs. He was touching all the right spots, as though he had known me for a long time. His eyes remained on me, observed how I squirmed and wriggled and whimpered, what made me tick, what I like. He spread his fingers slightly in me, stretching my inner muscles, until I shivered and clenched around his wet digits.

"See, little kitty. Doesn't this feel good?" He purred, his thumb rubbing my hard bundle of nerves. "Why do you fight it so much?"

This man didn't understand that just because it felt good didn't mean I gave consent for it to be done to me. My bladder hurt with each breath I drew in. Each pumping of his fingers brought me closer and closer to the climax that I didn't want, and with each thrust, I trembled with the knowledge that I just might wet myself if I orgasm. The thought made me tighten down on the fingers in me.

"God, you're so tight." He rasped.

The urge to pee fought with the urge to come. It was a close battle. My hands were clenched into fists above my head, my nipples stiffened to hardness, pointing upwards. The battle took place on the lower half of my body, where he manipulated my flesh and urged me towards an orgasm. I was breathing heavily, my chest rising and falling with each breath. His eyes were wide and feverish, as he forced me to experience what I didn't want. Beads of sweat rolled down the valley between my breasts.

He delighted in that power, liked having control over me.

I was at the edge of an orgasm when he pulled out his fingers. Dazed by the turn of events, I stared up at him blankly.

He was unbuttoning his jeans. His hard cock sprang out, eager to impale me. I blinked at it wordlessly.

"You feel too good and tight for me not to fuck you, little kitty."

The large head of his cock pressed up against the entrance of my pussy. I was wet, very wet, made it easy for him to slide into me. The stretching of my pussy awaken me from my reverie. I fought against my bonds, protesting against his entering me, even as my body hungered for the lost orgasm.

"Please. You said you'll just make me come. I just want to go to the bathroom, please." I sobbed.

He combed his fingers through my hair, petted me. "I am. I'll give you your orgasm. You can come on my cock." He kissed my face while tears streamed down, licked the salty liquid away. "Hush, kitty. Everything will be fine. I'll let you go to the bathroom when you orgasm. Promise. Don't cry, kitty."

His soft words lulled me into a false sense of security. My tears gradually stopped and I got used to the heated rod in me again. My tiny muscles were already grasping greedily at his cock, rippling along his length.

"There, isn't everything much better now?" He pressed a kiss to my lips. "I'll fuck you now, alright?"

I nodded numbly.

The ascend towards orgasm returned. He used his cock like a weapon, skillfully turning my body against me, winding it up however he wanted. He enjoyed the tight sheathe around his cock, enjoyed watching me struggle against the orgasm and fight the urge to urinate at the same time. All throughout it, he watched me like a hawk, as the orgasm crest and broke over me.

The wet heat of his seed flooded my insides as he came too. I didn't protest, was too exhausted. I had managed not to wet myself, the effort increasing the intensity of my climax. And now, I lay limply beneath him, a sheen of perspiration covering me.

He withdrew himself from me, frowned when he saw his seed spill from my pussy.

"You shouldn't waste it." He told me sternly.

I didn't care. All I wanted was the bathroom. "Please. You said you'll let me go."

I thought he wouldn't have complied, would have simply gone back on his promise. But he leaned over, dug out the swiss knife from his back pocket (he didn't even bother to take off his jeans just now), and sliced through my bonds.

Finally! I sat up immediately, ignored the watchful eyes that followed my every movement, and stumbled clumsily into the bathroom. There were a few times I almost fell down but I managed to catch myself against the wall or the wardrobe. There were pins and needles in my legs from being tied down too long. I should have given myself some time to get the prickly sensation out but I needed the bathroom desperately. I didn't even care that his semen was dribbling out of me as I walked across the room.

Thinking that he was done with me, I didn't expect him to stride towards me and grip the handle of the door which I was just about to close.

"What?" I snapped out before I could stop myself.

"Don't shut the door." He said.

I tried to wrench the door away from him, found that I couldn't win him in a battle of physical strengths. I relented. "Fine. But give me some privacy."

I didn't even think of how ironic my statement was. I turned my back on him and walked in. By the time I was sitting on the toilet and relieving my tormented bladder, the man was gone. Good riddance, I thought.

I took my own sweet time washing myself, shampooing my hair thrice and making sure I gave every inch of me a good hard scrub. It was an hour later when I was done, the hot shower made me feel alive again. I stepped back into the bedroom, discovered that the soiled bedsheets had been changed. My rapist was considerate enough to take out the previous bedsheets, find the other set at the bottom of the cabinet, and exchange it for clean ones. The corners were even tucked in properly. There was no sight of the bondage toys nor the mess on the floor.

The man probably wanted to ensure there was no evidence of his DNA lying around, I thought to myself.

Still, I was thrown off by the thought of the man going around the house doing housework. It was something my husband always grumbled about, called it 'woman's work' and would procrastinate whenever I asked him to fix stuff. He would rather pay people to come and fix them than to take out fifteen minutes of his time and save a hundred bucks.

I put on a pair of tan slacks and a baggy black tee. No underwear because all my privates were sore and tender. I wanted to head to the doctor's for some pills because the bastard had come in me twice. Even though I had washed myself clean just now, I wanted to make sure that I wouldn't get pregnant from him.

I needed to get away from the house, to get away from him. Maybe I should move.

My plans were dashed when I saw the metal lock and chain on my door. We had installed a metal door with bars at the top when we moved into this house for extra security. Now, it was used against me, keeping me in this house. I tried the windows immediately, my heart in my throat. They were similarly locked down as well, every one that I tried. The set of keys to all the windows and doors in the house was no longer hanging on the wall where it usually was.

I whirled around, ran back up to my bedroom for my phone. I hadn't noticed it anywhere, and now I had a sick feeling in my stomach about it.

"Looking for this?"

I straightened from going through the pillows in the bed and turned around. He was holding up my phone, the same cocky smile on his face as he leaned against the doorframe. I gritted my teeth, tightened my thighs together.

"Give it back to me." I demanded.

He didn't, tucked it into his pocket nonchalantly. He gave me a onceover, undressing me with his eyes. "You cleaned up real nice."

I had enough of this. I had enough of him. Now that I'm no longer desperate to pee, I got back my backbone.

"What are you still doing here? You've had enough. Get out of here before I call the police." I stared right back at him.

In the light of day, he did not look scary. Just a gorgeous man one would ogle at the beach. Especially when he smiled. It certainly sent my tummy fluttering.

Damn, I hoped I wasn't attracted to this man.

He came away from the door and I instantly took a step back. It was instinctive now, to get away from him, to ensure he didn't come close. He backed me up slowly until I ended up against my wardrobe. I was breathing heavily, my heart racing and my palms sweaty. He nuzzled my neck even when I struggled to move away, grabbed my wrists and held them over my head.

"You smell good, little kitty. Roses and lemon." His blue eyes dilated. "Sweet, but with a bite to it. I like it."

I don't care what you like, I wanted to shout.

"Please," I said instead, "Please just leave. You got what you wanted. Please just leave me alone now."

He lifted his head. His face was inches away from mine. I could see the freckles below his eyes and the tiny round scar next to his mouth. His eyes weren't entirely blue, they had specks of grey in them. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek, tickling my skin.

I didn't move, remained still beneath him. The depth of obsession I saw in him frighten me. All the things he had told me last night came flooding into my mind. I had forgotten I was dealing with a man who stalked me.

"I'm going nowhere, sweet kitty." He whispered. His voice was a woman's wet dream but his words were a nightmare. "I can't let you go now that I had a taste of you."

The thought that I was trapped with him forever almost made me delirious. "You can't stay here forever. My husband will come back eventually. I have friends. And family. They'll know that something is wrong if they don't hear from me."

He didn't care, wasn't even listening to me. He kissed me to shut me up, his hands tugged my shirt up and over my head. I wrapped an arm around my breasts, my other hand pummeling against his muscled chest, my protests muffled by his intense kiss. I fought for it when he pulled down my slacks, lost.

"Please, not again." I whimpered when he finally allowed me to gasp for air.

He ignored my protest, wrapped my hair around his fist and dragged me towards the bed. He threw me onto it, spread my legs apart, opened his zipper and sank himself into me. Again.