Catching Up 3

I sit with the phone pressed to my ear and listen to Rayn telling me about another rough one of a day. I can hear the agitation and the distance in her words, more like they're echoing from another room down the hall than as if she were looking at me and talking. I listen and let her run it out for a while, adding only sympathetic murmurs. But, I'm seeing the further she goes with it, the further away and into her twist she's getting. So, I cut her off.

"I think we need a chase, Love."

It cuts her off cold and there's a long silence. "I... don't think I'm up for that, honestly, I..."

"Even better. Be ready. I'll be a bit."

"Oh... Okay, Love..."

And I hang up without the usual postscript of 'I love yous' and 'call if you need anythings'. She calls them my usual disclaimers. But, she wasn't in a space for them to mean anything to her, anyway.

I already know the door I'm going to, and in a short while I'm there. The can feel the excitement already building up in me, the anticipatory adrenaline and the thudding of my heart as I approach the front step. I don't bother trying to look innocent. People always pick up on you when you're trying to look innocent, but when you let yourself go ahead and be predatory and aggressive, people usually assume somethings wrong and act with deference. We people are funny animals.

I walk up the little path, open the screen door, prop it against my shoulder and rap firmly three times, then stand there to wait. A few seconds pass and I hear the metallic clicking and the knob twist to pull it open. The woman who stands there is dark blond like Rayn, with the same blue eyes, and she's dressed in a loose sweatshirt and baggy cargo pants. "Hi..." she invites inquisitively, standing partly behind the half open door regarding me.

"Hi... is the man of the house at home...?"

Her brow furrows quizzically, and I can tell she must be thinking this is some sort of door to door sales. Her mind is distracted for an instant forming the phrases to inform me there is no man of the house when I push. I put my shoulder to the door and reach out to grab the arm she has propped against the door frame. I pull her towards me as I push the door, as the motion effectively prevents her from applying pressure to the door to push me out. Her hands begin to flail to push or to hit, but off balance as she is, there is little force behind the movements as I grip her, step inside, and push the door shut behind me.

She is yelling, now, demanding to know what I'm doing, screaming at me to get out of her house, enraged redness creeping into her pretty features. But, the door is already closed and she manages to pull away from my grip as I lock it. She's running, then, for the phone, but her hands are shaking and she can barely find a number or two before my hand finds her cheek in a hard clap and I'm yanking the phone out of her hand.

Again, she's hitting me. She's slight, but she's a footballer, and I move inside guarding against her wild swings and using pushes to back her up and keep her off balance. She has strong legs and while I can deal with slight slaps I really don't want her to connect with a solid punch or a gouge to my face. A hard shove moves her backwards several paces, her heel catching on the corner of a throw rug as it skids, and she falls roughly onto her ass.

She's already scrambling to rise and turn. Letting her swing ineffectually at me had rendered fighting less of an option amidst her rushing thoughts. Now, all she can think of is flight. She turns to make for the stairs and I'm not quite quick enough to grapple her before she's up. I grab a hold of one pants leg but a wild kick of hers catches me along my cheek and the stars I see let her get a few seconds ahead of me. I catch up with her on the steps, get a grip on her shirt which instantly starts to tear as she tries to pull away from me, but my second hand catches her belt and I manage to haul her much lighter frame backwards. She collides into a wall and tries to slip off but I'm on top of her. I get a hold of her wrist and yank her off balance, push her roughly down onto the carpet.

She's fighting and I manage to wrench her arm into a lock and roll her onto her belly. She's thrashing and screaming to get the hell off her and out of her house. The cool, unyielding metal of the handcuff being locked around her wrist evokes a fresh wave of panic and frenzied struggle as well as adrenaline charged strength that brings me having to sit physically on the small of her back and trying to get a hold of her frantically moving hand, reaching for something to pull her away or to hit me with. I get her sleeve above her shoulder, then her elbow, and wrench her arm back to get it into the cuff.

It brings a sort of recognition in her and her struggles become almost defeated, but she remains defiant when I roll her onto her back, almost managing to throw me off of her or land a kick or two. I slap her across her cheek, once and then again, as I sit atop her violently thrashing knees to unbutton her pants and pull down her zipper, bringing a fresh round of squealing protest from her. I pull the duct tape out of my pocket, bite off a piece, and press it over her mouth. Her eyes are wide, alternating between anger and panic and she's trying to reason with me as well, but gagged by the tape her appeals for mercy are reduced now to amount to whimpering sounds that only arouse me more.

I maneuver her as she kicks and bucks and pull her pants and panties down over her hips. I pull off one sneaker and yank her pants down to her ankles, which is no easy task with her bucking her hips off the floor and trying to kick and keep her legs in a way that doesn't facilitate my removing them. Still, amidst the struggle, my palms and fingers indulge in their tactile exploration, feeling her cool skin and the muscles beneath warming. I tug one pants leg off the foot I pulled the shoe off of, and leave the other on... It's enough to part her legs as I lay atop her to pin her with my body.

I finally meet her eyes containing both pleas for mercy and indignant defiance, shaking her head, and even through the gag I can make out the words "please no". The look in my eyes seems to panic her further as she sees nothing but arousal and lust in them. I don't tell her to cooperate. I don't give her options, or persuade, or mitigate. I look into her eyes as though I could grip her own with my gaze as I do with my hands. I undo my belt and button and zipper and pull out my cock. I telegraph my intent and the hungry lust behind it.

She's struggling with squeaking grunts of effort to press her legs together, swinging her hips this way and that, heaving to buck and push me off, knowing now that no mercy is coming from me. She even tries headbutting me a few times. My hands coax between her thighs, poising my cock at her own sex, and she flushes red when she sees me realize how wet she's become. I rub her folds, tease them apart and roughly caress her clit, but she still bucks and thrashes, now fighting both me and her own body's reaction.

I push into her. It's tricky with her movements, but that itself increases my arousal. I feel her slick warmth and the muscles convulse with her wild movement as I push hard with my hips, stabbing weapon like into her to claim for myself her most intimate depths. Now her squeals are all but animalistic. But I don't hurry. I grip her throat. Force her head to me. Force her eyes to mine. Make her watch me enjoying her. Make her watch my eyes and the lack of shame in them as my thumb strokes her clit harshly while I fuck her. Her angry cries turn into whimpering pleas and her thrashing takes on a rhythm with mine as I slap harder and faster into her, grinding home with moist slapping sounds at the terminus of each attack like pistonning motion.

Soon, her whimpers and mewls have taken on a rhythm and squeak out of her with every grinding slam of my body onto hers. Then I see her eyes fly wide and her nostrils flare with a sudden desperately ragged intake of breath that makes a wheezing raspy sound as he feel her gripping sex convulse and tremor and twitch around my invasion of her. I grab a painful hold of her hair, make her look into my eyes as her body starts to come for me, and it puts me over the edge as well. My surge starts and I feel my motions slow as I erupt, flooding her sex with a grunt at the terminus of every forceful drive, my rigidly tense form slowly growing slack with each movement..

We lie breathless for some time. I don't take off the duct tape. I leave that and the cuffs on as she lies there struggling for breath through only her nose. I pull off her sneaker and her jeans the rest of the way and carry her upstairs to the cage in the bedroom. She is cooperative and obedient as I place her inside and go downstairs to make dinner.