Dirty Little Secret Pt 01

She woke up feeling like she was completely new, remembering nothing. Before she even opened her eyes, she tried to gather sensory information about where she was. She was in a bed, which felt soft and comfortable. There was a comforter over her, she felt warm, but she was also entirely naked. What had she been wearing? There was no memory. It was a complete blank. She lay on her side, the cotton fabric draping her body, tucked in under her chin, her skin feeling smooth against it. She also wasn't alone.

That was the next thing she became aware of, after familiarizing herself with the feel of sheets against her naked body. There was a man in bed with her. Was it his bed or her bed? She couldn't remember. Nothing seemed familiar. His arm was draped around her underneath the covers, his fingers splayed out against her belly possessively. He held onto her firmly, pressing her to himself. His body outlined hers, his front to her back. She evaluated the feel of him behind her, creating a mental image of this man she couldn't actually remember. He was much bigger than her, her head seemed to be tucked in underneath his chin. His chest felt hard against her back and so did his penis, an inflexible ridge digging into her back. She could feel the soft hairs on his legs pressing against her smooth ones. He breathed evenly, apparently asleep.

She didn't feel panic at this situation. Somehow, despite having no idea where she was or who she was with, she felt only mild concern for her lack of memories. She opened her eyes, taking in the room in front of her. It seemed like any typical bedroom. There was a nightstand next to the bed holding an alarm clock, which read 6:27 am, a small lamp, and a box of tissues. The wall parallel to the bed held a double closet with sliding doors and between the bed and the closet sat an ottoman. There were a few articles of clothing on the ottoman, but none of them looked familiar. Were they hers or his? There was soft blue carpeting on the floor and the grey sheets she lay in had a pattern of a similar blue color on them. She could see a door in the corner of the room, closed.

It must not have been her room because it seemed entirely unfamiliar, but when she tried to imagine what her room looked like, she drew a blank. Nothing surfaced. She tried to imagine the house that she lived in but that wasn't coming to her either. Her heart picked up speed, worried at the idea of being unable to remember these things about herself. Before she could become any more concerned with her lack of memories, she felt the man's hand tighten on her belly, pulling her closer to him, while simultaneously pressing his erection more firmly into her back. He groaned. She felt herself grow very still, waiting for what he would do, what he would say to her.

His hand moved down her belly on a trajectory to her pussy. Her breath hitched, but she wasn't sure how to react to this. She was in bed with this man, he was spooning her, everything about this situation suggested that he had her permission to touch. His fingers skimmed over the smooth area preceding her slit and the thought that occurred to her was that she didn't remember ever shaving there. His fingers wedged into her seam, entering her folds, gliding through them towards her entrance. His touch felt good, it was firm, but not forceful. He wasn't hurting her and she was able to relax into his touch.

"Open up for me," his voice was deep and quiet, coming from above her. It jarred her. There was nothing about this voice that sounded familiar. Her heart sped up again, something inside her body signaled danger. "Open your legs, Nicole," he repeated his instruction. Her breath caught at the mention of her name, a name that sounded entirely foreign. Nicole? Why didn't that sound right? He pressed his palm up on her thigh, lifting her upper leg away since she failed to respond to his verbal instructions. Her brain was too busy trying to process the name and the voice.

His fingers slid down into her pussy, filling her. She could feel her body react by producing wetness. The digits slid in more easily on his second pass and her passage seemed outright slick on the third. He continued to work his finger in and out of her while his cock seemed to rock gently into her back. The sensation was wonderful, tingling, igniting sparks inside her. She felt her knee fall further open, splaying her out to him.

"Ah, you're awake now?" His voice seemed to smile. It put her slightly more at ease.

He moved down her body, readjusting himself. His lips met the nape of her neck, kissing her tenderly. Oh God, why did she have no recollection of who this man was?! He obviously knew her! He pulled her leg back, hooking it over his hip, opening her up to him even wider. His cock now aligned with her entrance, the tip gliding through her folds, building up to something more intense. He shoved the length of his cock inside her unexpectedly. She yelped at the sudden intrusion. He was thrusting deep inside her, filling and stretching her pussy in a way that, although pleasurable, also left a distinct sting.

"You're OK," he told her. There was a strange tone to this affirmation. He wasn't asking her, and he didn't seem particularly tender in that moment, he just announced it to her as a fact that wasn't up for discussion.

He was thrusting inside her hard and fast, grunting occasionally with effort. She felt lost. The idea of sex was in her head, she knew that's what was happening and she had a strong feeling that this wasn't her first time, but she couldn't remember doing this with anyone specific. She couldn't even remember this man's face, the one whose cock was buried inside her now.

He brought his hand up to her nipple, twisting it between his fingers, creating another instance of that stinging pleasure that she already felt between her legs. She whimpered under his touch and didn't recognize that sound as her own. Was that what she always sounded like? He moved his hand down her belly, reaching for the sensitive bundle of nerves above the place where he continued to ram her with his cock. He circled it, increasing the pressure until she felt an explosion of pleasure radiating from his fingers. She felt her body shudder and her channel contract around his cock, gripping him tightly. He groaned again, thrust deeply, and halted. His cock jerked inside her, filling her with cum, and she felt a new wave of anxiety as the word 'protection' swam up into her consciousness.

They both breathed heavily, her heart thundered in her ears. He pulled out, rolling away, onto his back, and she turned her head to finally look at this man. She was surprised at what she saw.

He was older than she expected. Her defective brain couldn't remember exactly how old she was, but she was certain she wasn't as old as him. He was handsome, slim, with a strong-looking chest and arms and flecks of grey mixed into the stubble along his square jaw. He had short dark brown hair that seemed to be specked with strands of grey here and there too. Thirty-five? Maybe forty? He sat up, bringing his knees up and resting his arms on them. Looking at her. It was as if he waited for some sort of recognition, for her to say something to him, that would be the 'normal' or the 'usual thing for her to say.

"Good morning, Jack," he seemed to prompt her. She took a deep breath, getting ready to squeeze out the words from her throat.

"Good morning, Jack," her voice was quiet and unsure, as if she didn't know how to use it properly.

"We're gonna go take a shower now," he informed her, getting out of bed on the opposite side. She noticed his tight ass and then immediately looked away, not sure if she was supposed to be looking. "Come on, out of bed," his voice sounded stern.

She got out of bed, looking down at her own naked body. It seemed unfamiliar. She felt frail and weak, which was rather disconcerting. Looking down at herself, she noticed a number of fading bruises, her knees skinned and raw. Her heart was hammering again, not knowing what had happened, why she looked this way, and who had caused it. Was it Jack? Should she be scared of him? It wasn't coming back to her. He stood in the open doorway, his now flaccid penis dangling between his toned, athletic legs. He had a serious expression on his face, watching her inspect her own body. After a moment he turned and walked out into the hallway, undoubtedly expecting her to follow him. She did, wrapping her arms around her small breasts, feeling suddenly cold without the covers on her.

They crossed the hallway into the bathroom, the tile floor cold against her bare feet. She could feel his cum starting to drip down her thighs and the uneasy feeling returned, regarding the lack of protection. Was she on birth control? Did he get her pregnant?

Jack had started the shower just as she turned to look into the mirror above the sink. Her auburn hair looked like a tangled mess, coming down past her shoulders. She had dark circles underneath her hazel eyes and her cheeks looked sunken, giving her face an overall gaunt appearance. Just to the right, her bottom lip had been split, but partially healed now. Maybe this is why she couldn't remember anything. Maybe she was mugged and beaten and had some sort of head injury. The thought about whether Jack was the one who did this to her crossed her mind again. She looked over at him. He stood in front of the toilet, taking a piss, completely unconcerned with the fact that she was there. She suddenly realized how much she needed to pee as well. He flushed, putting the seat down, and gesturing to her.

"Get in the shower when you're done," he told her before stepping inside the tub.

Did this mean that they had some kind of a relationship? That they were so comfortable with each other that they didn't need privacy for this sort of thing? Was he just her boyfriend? Her husband? Was it possible for her to have been married and not remember any of it at all?

****

He breathed out, stepping under the hot stream of water. He ran his fingers through his hair, getting it wet, and worked shampoo into it before Nicole stepped into the shower with him, still hugging her breasts. She looked small and scared, not entirely unlike she looked yesterday, but also different. She clearly didn't remember him, didn't remember what she was doing there or how she ended up in his house. And he was glad for that. It worked as he had intended and he had a blank slate to work with now.

He took her shoulders and shifted her underneath the showerhead. She closed her eyes and tipped her face up to the falling water. He pulled her arms away from her modest breasts, taking a good look over them again. He moved close, working his fingers through her tangled hair, trying to get the water to penetrate it all before he squeezed shampoo into his hand and applied it. He turned her, working the shampoo into her auburn locks, trying to work his fingers through the knots. She didn't wince or give him any indication of pain as he worked them out. He rinsed her hair then repeated the procedure with conditioner. She stood calmly, obedient, and pliable, letting him do this, asking no questions, showing no resistance. He could feel his cock stirring back to life at the thought of this and the sight of Nicole naked and wet.

The marks all over her body were not particularly arousing, especially since he didn't cause them, and he couldn't wait for them to heal. He saw her shock at the bruises and the skinned knees, but she'd likely be even more concerned had she seen the criss-cross of fading lines spanning her back and ass. It was better that she didn't know.

He washed her entire body, meticulously running the soapy washcloth over and underneath her breasts, between her legs, and through her folds, between her ass cheeks, and over the tightly puckered asshole. She flinched but didn't move away from him. He let his fingers dip inside her again, just a quick tease. Then he carefully rinsed her off.

He washed himself, while she stood there, watching him. Her silence seemed deafening. She hasn't said a word, aside from repeating his greeting in bed. At least he had the confirmation that she was able to speak, that there wasn't some sort of side effect where her speech was affected. He'd run some tests on this later. Right now, he had her naked and wet in the shower and his cock was fully hard again.

What he really wanted right then was for Nicole to get down on her knees and suck him off. He wanted to grasp her hair in his hand and fuck her mouth, but it was too soon. With the current state of her knees, Jack worried that it might trigger some of the horrific memories for her, which he was trying to repress. He'd avoid having her down in that position for a while. She was his, that wasn't going to change. He had time.

"Nicole," her eyes shifted to his face, waiting. "Grab a hold of my cock and slide your hand up and down it." Her eyes widened slightly at his instruction, but she grasped his shaft with her little hand and stroked, her eyes down on his cock. "Good girl," he told her. "Tighten your grip and stroke a little harder." She did as he asked. This would work perfectly, Jack thought to himself. He didn't need a fighter, he didn't need someone he'd have to break and put in their place, he didn't want to beat anyone into submission. This was fine, compliance and cooperation.

Jack placed his hand over Nicole's, guiding it, strengthening her grip on his cock and increasing the speed. Her eyes stayed down and a sliver of doubt crept into his head about whether she really remembered nothing about her ordeal or whether some dregs of memories had stuck with her. He knew that they drilled it into her head that she was to keep her eyes down and not look anyone in the face. Did she remember that part? Was she silent because she remembered being instructed to not utter a sound? Shit, had this not actually worked as well as he thought it did?

"Why are you looking down?" He asked her, both of their hands still stroking his cock together. She looked up at him, her eyes wide. She shrugged. "You are allowed to speak, you don't have to be silent," he tried to keep his voice gentle and firm at the same time.

"I don't know," she told him. Her face expressed genuine confusion. He believed her. He could see in her eyes that she meant it.

He refocused his attention on her. His free hand came up to cup her small breast in his hand and his fingers played with her nipple. They seemed to fit perfectly into his palm, nice and round and firm. He switched to her other breast, kneading it in his hand.

"Does it feel good when I do that?" He asked her, cocking his head to the side and watching her face. She nodded, immediately. "It would feel really good if you would reach down and massage my balls with your hand, the way that I'm massaging your breasts." He wondered how receptive she'd be to this request, as opposed to an outright command. She nodded again and reached down to grasp his balls in her hand, using the perfect amount of pressure. He felt them tighten in her hand as his cock released streams of cum. It was on both of their hands and on Nicole's belly and her mouth dropped open, watching the eruption. He pulled his hand away from his shaft and brought it up to her mouth. "Taste it," he instructed. She stuck out her tongue and licked his cum off his hand. He rinsed the rest of the cum off her hand and her belly before turning off the shower.

He walked her back into the bedroom after they were both dried off and wrapped in towels. He pointed towards the bottom two drawers in the dresser.

"Those are yours. Find something to wear, brush your hair, and come out to the kitchen. I'm going to make breakfast," he told her, before pulling on a pair of mesh shorts, a t-shirt, and leaving her standing in the bedroom in her towel.

****

Nicole opened one drawer, looking through the items, then the other. She lived here? She had no recollection of ever living in this place. She tried to imagine exactly where in this house the kitchen was or what it looked like and came up with nothing. The hairbrush and the deodorant both looked brand new, never before used. The clothes looked new as well. Tank tops, t-shirts, sweatpants, shorts, socks, and panties. She looked through them, deciding what to wear. She couldn't remember whether these were the type of clothes she normally wore or not. Nothing came to mind. She chose a pair of heather grey sweatpants and a blue t-shirt with a light blue pattern on it. She thought it looked pretty. The panties seemed ok, but the other clothes fit loosely, a bit too big on her. She tightened the drawstrings on the sweatpants and worked on brushing through her hair. She got it smoothed out, giving it another pat down with the towel, and hung up the towel in the bathroom before venturing out to find the kitchen.

There were two other doors upstairs and then a staircase that led down. It ended in the living room, a neat and simply decorated place with a dark leather sofa and chair and a large TV. There was a wall of books and DVDs spanning one end of the room. None of this seemed familiar. She followed through a dining area into a large kitchen. It smelled great in there and Nicole couldn't remember the last time that she'd eaten anything. Her stomach seemed to tighten at the thought. Jack set out a plate with some scrambled eggs and a piece of buttered toast on the kitchen island, in front of a bar stool. She climbed up onto it, looking down at the food on her plate, taking in the delicious scent. The eggs seemed more yellow than she'd ever remembered them being and something welled up in her throat at the sight of this breakfast. She didn't understand what it was, but her eyes seemed to blur with tears. Was this normal?

"What's wrong?" Jack looked at her intently, spatula in hand.

"I don't know," she admitted, shaking her head. "It looks really good, thank you," she told him, picking up the fork. His face expressed concern, his eyebrows drawing together slightly, creasing his forehead.

"Take it easy, ok? Small bites," he told her, before turning away to load up his own plate. That seemed like a weird thing to say, but she followed his advice.

The food was delicious and she chewed each bite many times, as if savoring it. Jack brought his plate over and sat down around the corner from her. He watched her eat, in between his own bites, his face contemplative.

"Do you want coffee?" He asked her after he had picked up his mug and took a long drink from it. She nodded, mostly because it smelled fantastic. He stuck another mug into the machine and waited for the coffee to pour. He looked over at her as if he was going to ask something, his mouth opened and then closed again and he turned away. He went to the fridge and got milk, adding it to her coffee, which he didn't do to his, and then added a spoonful of sugar too before sliding it across the counter to her.

"Thank you," she told him, picking the mug up in both hands, as if warming herself on it, and brought it to her lips, taking a very careful sip of the hot liquid. This, too, tasted amazing. It was as if some kind of pleasure sparks fired off inside her mouth and nose and she actually let out a little moan of appreciation. Jack smirked at her reaction.

When they were done eating, Jack cleared the plates, placing them into the dishwasher, then made himself another mug of coffee. He gestured for her to follow him as he crossed the kitchen back towards the dining room and over to the door underneath the staircase. He opened the door, turned on the light, and descended the carpeted stairs. The large room downstairs was split into two distinct areas, one set up as a gym the other set up as an office. There was a large corner desk with multiple monitors, filing cabinets, binders, printers, a shredder. A leather loveseat sat opposite the desk.