Heartbrea

The warm tropical air filled my nostrils as I walked up the hill to the cottage, carrying my bag from the market. I preferred to walk even though I had a car in the garage... it helped me to keep a lower profile, which was a good idea in the part of the world. Don't get me wrong, I had spent time in the more touristy places of Mexico, but I really couldn't stand it most of the time. All those college kids, getting wasted on Bud Light and acting like idiots. I liked it quiet, that's why I picked this place. Far enough out of town that no one bothered you, the locals were friendly enough, and it was well out of the way of any tourist traps. I reached the front door and checked over my shoulder one last time as I slid my sunglasses up onto my shaved head, just to be sure I wasn't followed, before opening it and stepping inside.

Something isn't right.

The HK USP concealed at my hip was already in my hand as I step to the side, partially crouched by the wall as I listened carefully. I had no idea when I drew it, it happened on its own, a motion drilled into my muscle memory from thousands of repetitions. The neutral temperature of the polymer grip filled my hand perfectly, just like a comforting touch from an old friend.

There was no sound. I actually relaxed a moment, thinking it was just in my head, trying to replay the last few moments and remember what it was that set me off. It's a weird feeling, something I find nearly impossible to describe, actually. Some people call it a sixth sense, or intuition, or a gut feeling. That tiny little voice in the back of your head that sees, or hears, or smells, or feels something out of place, something isn't right, and that voice is rarely wrong, if you'll only listen to it.

I walked carefully into the kitchen, still on edge, every sense tuned, when I saw it... a shadow. Someone was hiding behind the couch. A small figure, hiding, hoping I didn't see them so they could sneak by me... a thief.

I snarled and rushed around the counter, reaching out and finding a handful of something, clothing, hair perhaps, and yanking hard, throwing them onto the tile kitchen floor. The handgun snapped up between us, the front sight leveling with the rear as they lined up on the person's body, when I realized it. It was a young woman.

I sighed, lowering the gun and looking around me, positioning my back to the wall as I moved around her. I looked down at her shaking body for a moment, eyes full of fear, before holstering my pistol. Her clothing was old and dirty, rags really, her dark brown hair tangled and messy. Her tiny frame betrayed that she probably hadn't had a proper meal for a long time. She was clearly not threat to me. But was she alone? I looked around the room again.

"Quién más está contigo?" My Spanish sucks. I grabbed her by her dark hair, picked her up, and slammed her against the counter. "Who else is here?"

She shook her head at me in terror, speaking with a thick accent. "N... no... I... alone. No one else." I dragged her behind me, pulling a pair of handcuffs from my bag near the door and cuffing her to a metal rack in the kitchen. I left her there while I cleared the rest of the house, also finding her entry point... a tiny unlocked window that she opened and squeezed through. She had told the truth... she was alone. She'd probably watched me for a while, waited for me to leave and then broke in to search for food, or money, or something valuable. That wouldn't go unpunished.

I walked back to the kitchen, stepping close to her young, slender body and grabbing her by the chin to force her to look me in the eye. "You trying to steal from me? Huh?" She yelped sharply as my open hand harshly met the side of her face, tears welling up in her eyes as she trembled. "You think you can just come in here and take what you want? Well you're going to pay for that, right now."

I removed the handcuffs that held her to the rack and pushed her back into the counter, watching her spin around and try to run past me towards the door. I reached out and grabbed her, getting a fistful of her raggedy clothing and angrily yanking her back toward me, her shirt ripping open in the process. My other hand found her throat as I slammed her back against the counter, hearing her cry out in fear and pain, both of her little hands wrapping around my wrist to try to pull it away, pushing and scratching at me.

"No señor, por favor, no..."

I slapped her again, harder this time, snarling into her face. "English. If you're going to beg me, at least do it in my language."

"P... please... sir, please do... not hurt me..."

"Aaaawwwww." I kissed her softly on the lips, feeling her body stiffen in protest as her eyes widened, little whimpers coming out of her nose. "Sorry, but yes, I am going to hurt you."

Tears filled her dark brown eyes and began to run down the soft, tan skin of her cheeks as she uselessly pushed and scratched at me, her screams of terror growing louder and more desperate as I tore her clothing open and shredded each piece one at a time. I didn't bother trying to stop her from screaming, no one would hear her out here, and even if they did, I knew they wouldn't do anything about it. Finally I ripped the last piece off of her, a worn pair of white cotton panties, and pushed her down into a heap on the tile. I began to undress.

Her small, slender body shook uncontrollably as she accepted her fate, she knew all to well that she could never outrun me, and besides, where would she go for help? She continued sobbing loudly as she saw me stripping my clothes off, trying to somehow maintain her decency by covering her naked breasts and her untrimmed pussy with her hands. "Sen... sir... please... let me... go..."

I looked down as I stood over her, only smiling at her tender cries as my thumbs slipped inside the waistband of my boxers and I began sliding them down, watching her turn and try to crawl away as my hard erection came into her view. "Where you going? Hmmmm?" I pushed her back down as she tried to get to her feet, and then grabbed her by the ankles and began pulling her back into the kitchen. Her fingernails scraped the floor and she screamed as I dragged her, her naked body sliding along the floor.

My fingers slid into the tangled mess of hair as I yanked her up to her feet, turning her around toward me and violently grabbing her face under the chin. She slapped at me wildly while I reached down and forced her legs apart, finding her tight, narrow slit with the tip of my cock as she squirmed and fought, succeeding in stopping me for a moment before I picked her up and forcefully set her ass down on the counter. She yelped sharply as I slammed her into place, and then without giving her a moment to recover I grabbed her behind each knee and yanked her body close to mine, finding the opening between the ungroomed lips of her pussy and forcing myself into her body.

She screamed out and the tears began to gush like a torrent, her crying turning into a frantic, high-pitched sob as I violated her, forcing her young, tight vagina open with my hard shaft, raping her mercilessly despite her lack of lubrication and the discomfort that it even caused me. I grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them behind her, pulling them against her lower back and forcing her body closer to me so my cock could penetrate her deeper, my thrusts finally beginning to slide easily as her pussy raced to protect itself with a slow, steady offering of slippery wetness. My hands roamed over her body, grabbing and squeezing her firm, perky breasts, pinching her nipples, just to hear her scream louder between the sobs as I raped her.

My mouth turned into an angry snarl as I picked up speed, growling into her face each time I thrusted deeper, I grabbed her head with both hands and held it still so that I could look into her petrified eyes while I took what I wanted, used her body for my pleasure. Her tight, young pussy felt so incredible, wrapped tightly around my cock and twitching at the violent assault on it, the pleasure pushing me closer and closer and until finally a long, slow groan pushed its way through my teeth, my throbbing cock flexing hard inside her as I shot a thick hot load of cum into her.

Her sobbing picked up again as she felt my cum invading her body, perhaps from the thought of what it could do inside her fertile womb, or perhaps out of relief that I was finally finished raping her and perhaps now it would be over. My forehead rested against hers as I came, my hot breath against her lips while I still held her head tightly in my grip, until I collapsed against her and finally stopped thrusting. My face pressed against hers while I took several long breaths through my nose, recovering.

I let her go and pulled out, my cock wet and glistening with a mix of her wetness and my own cum. I pulled her off the counter and tossed her onto the floor, watching her ball up as she cried softly. She finally started reaching out and touching the torn remnants of the clothing she had been wearing, realizing as each moment passed that there was no way they could ever be used again.

I watched her the whole time, thinking about what to do with her, considering her situation. "Are you hungry?"

She looked up at me, her eyes darting around the room as if I was setting a trap. Clearly she was confused. "Well? I said, are... you... hungry?"

"Si... ah... Yes? Yes sir I am."

"Mmmm. Well you're a filthy mess. Let's get you cleaned up, and then you can have something to eat." I grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to her feet, turning and marching to the shower without pausing as she resisted me slightly. Part of her wanted to run, escape, even in her vulnerable nakedness. But there was something else that she saw, just a glimpse, or a glimmer, in my eyes. Kindness, perhaps.

I turned on the water, setting the faucets so that it was luke-warm, more than comfortable in the humid tropical air, before dragging her inside behind me. The water sprayed over us and ran down our naked bodies, soaking her dark hair that partially shrouded her face. Her eyes stared blankly at the wall, not moving, as if her mind had temporarily disconnected from her body for a moment. I looked down at her and then stepped out of the shower, searching for a few things as the water dripped off my body onto the floor.

There were a few items I knew were in here, but I never needed myself... a brush would have been good, but I only located a comb. And shampoo... something I surely didn't use. I stepped back into the water with them in my hands, noting that her eyes had found life again, moving around blankly before looking up at me, wondering what I was doing, and why. I turned her body away from me roughly and sat on the bench behind her, going to work on the tangled mess on her head.

Twenty minutes later I finally had it straightened out. Working slowly from the bottom up with the comb, taking out all of the snags, and washing her hair several times, it finally hung from her head, straight and clean. Next her body, with a soapy sponge, scrubbing her carefully from head to toe. I noticed a number of times that she would start to sob, covering her face with her hands, before getting control again and wiping her tears away. I just ignored it.

One last thing. I reached out of the shower again, grabbing the waterproof electric shaver I used, and knelt down in front of her, spreading her legs out wide. She tensed her body and resisted me at first, and then gave up, looking away as I shaved her pussy until it was perfectly smooth. I had thrown caution to the wind earlier when I raped her, but as I cleaned her up and got a closer look, I was relieved to see that she appeared to be clean and healthy.

I pulled her out of the shower and dried her off, covering every inch of her body with my hands as I went, like she was a piece of property that I owned. I wanted her to know that I could do anything I wanted to her, and I thought that the lesson was sinking in, as she had stopped fighting me and lifted her arms or moved around however I asked her to.

Finally I stepped back to see my work was finished. She was a very pretty girl, probably 19 or so, petite and definitely underweight, delicate, with eyes that you could get lost in if you weren't careful. I turned and walked away, stopping in the bedroom to dress and grab a long-sleeve button-down shirt, and went to the kitchen. She followed, her hands together in front of her body as she looked at the floor. She had stopped crying a while ago now, and still said nothing.

I tossed the shirt to her, watching her put it on, and I couldn't help but chuckle. The shirt was tailored to fit over my thick, muscular chest, and it dwarfed her tiny body as she tried to wear it. The tail of the shirt easily reached down past her ass. I turned and grabbed the groceries that I had dropped at the door and dumped them onto the counter, the makings of tamales and flautas pouring out. I preferred to eat like the locals, even if it wasn't my first choice, it made getting fresh food easier.

I turned to her. "What's your name?"

Her voice was tiny and quiet, barely audible. "Maria."

Typical name for a Mexican girl. I pointed to the raw foods laid out on the kitchen counter, the same one I had raped her on not long before. "You know how?"

Her eyes scanned the ingredients before they met mine. "Yes."

I motioned to them and walked away, moving to the lounge which was open to the kitchen and sitting down. I reached under the couch and pulled a laptop out, tapping away at the keys and only watching Maria out of the corner of my eye.

For several minutes she just stood there, frozen in place, looking at the door, then at me, then at the food on the table. She was hungry... so hungry. But she should run. Run away, while he's not so close to stop her, run away and never stop. She shivered, thinking of the hunger she felt. She hugged herself for a moment, her fingers brushing across her smooth, warm, clean skin. She even smelled clean. The way he had washed her body, groomed her so gently... No, she should go.

Maria walked to the door and reached down, touching the handle. She would look ridiculous running down the street in nothing but this oversized shirt. Her eyes turned back to the food on the counter, as she wiped a tear away, furious with herself for getting into such a situation. Her hand left the door handle and fell to her side, and she walked to the counter instead, touching the paper covering the tortillas, still slightly warm from the market. She pulled one out and rolled it up, scarfing it down quickly. Then another. She swallowed the last bite, looking down at the familiar items before her. Then she went to work.

---

I let my gaze focus on Maria as I heard food being scraped from a pan. She walked to the small table between the kitchen counter and the lounge, placing two plates containing perfectly made tamales onto it. Then she sat down and waited, her hands in her lap, not lifting her eyes from the setting in front of her. I walked to the table and sat down without a word, watching her wipe a tear away as her rapist joined her to eat the food she had just willingly prepared for him. I had kept an eye on things in the kitchen to make certain that she didn't try anything funny, and I was starving. I dove in. She did the same.

---

I finished the plate, getting up and moving back to my work on the laptop. She had finished before me, ravenous from not having had a genuine hot meal in who knows how long. I wondered what her story was, what circumstances had driven her to be on the run, fending for herself in a hostile world. But I said nothing. I figured she would leave now, having gotten what she had come for. She stood up and gathered the dishes, walking back into the kitchen and cleaning each one carefully in the sink. She clearly had worked in some kind of kitchen before, judging by the skill that she had prepared our dinner. Or perhaps she had been taught by her mother.

The lid of the laptop clicked as I closed it and set it aside. It was getting dark outside, and I was ready to relax. I pulled a DVD out of an envelope and slid it into the player, pressed play, and went back to the couch. The previews danced across the screen as I sat back and got comfortable.

Maria walked around the counter, her job complete, and stared at the floor for a moment. She was obviously exhausted, probably in part from being on the run, and in part from trying to stop me from raping her. She was clean, and warm, and dry, and had a belly full of food. The thought of asking to stay, being with the man who had just violated her, seemed crazy. The mixed feelings and emotions rushed around in her mind like a whirlwind, confusing her more and more until a single motion cleared her mind.

Never moving my eyes from the television in front of me, I pointed at the floor next to my feet. She swallowed, then stepped forward and knelt down on the rug, leaning against the couch close enough that her shoulder rested against my leg. Her eyes lifted to the movie playing. Through the insanity of it all, for the first time in a long time, as crazy at it seemed, she felt... safe.

---

I listened to Maria's soft, sweet breathing for a long time, the black screen having shown the final credits long ago. I wasn't quite sure of what to make of her, really. But I knew one thing. I needed to go to bed. Before that, there was something I wanted, and she had it. I stood up, Maria waking as the support of my leg left, and she looked around wildly for a moment trying to figure out where she was. She calmed down as she remembered, and looked up at me. I didn't have to say a word, and I didn't. She only scowled and looked at the floor, too tired to put up a fight.

I picked her up and up led her by the hand to my bed, laying her back and unbuttoning the shirt that covered her body. She turned her head to the side and stared at the wall, tears forming in her eyes as she began to sob silently. I finished exposing her and then pulled my hard cock out, spreading her legs out wide and taking in the sight of her clean, freshly shaved pussy. It was perfect, tight and young, the pink inner lips of her vulva barely peeking out. I bent down and slid my tongue over her slit to wet her slightly, feeling her jump at the sensation, then as my tongue penetrated her deeper, hearing her gasp and one of her hands grabbed and squeezed the bedsheets. She turned her head further away, one hand covering her mouth to muffle her sobbing as it grew louder. I wondered if she had ever had a man's tongue inside her before.

I moved up her body, pausing to enjoy each of her delicious nipples before finding her opening with my shaft and sliding inside her, raping her much more gently than before. The first time was punishment, making her pay for doing wrong, this time, I just wanted to fuck her. There wasn't any need to hurt her.

She kept her face turned away the entire time, sobbing still but quieter, wiping away her tears as if she thought me seeing them would make me angry. I actually loved listening to her crying, so soft and sweet, it made my cock throb to watch her give up resisting and let me rape her, spread her legs for me and let me pleasure myself with her body. The thought of it made my heart race, and I went over the edge again, thrusting hard and deep as I came inside her a second time, before collapsing onto her body, supporting myself just enough not to crush her.

I breathed deeply in her ear for several minutes, letting myself recover slowly, enjoying the feel of her sexy body underneath me, before finally pulling out and getting up. I picked her up in my arms and carried her out of the bedroom, laying her down on the couch, and tossed a thin blanket to her. I turned back to my bedroom, closing and locking the door behind me so I could retire in peace. She'd be gone by morning.