(A bunch of you asked for me to continue my "Intrusion" story, so here it is. It was originally supposed to be a one-hit-wonder, but it became more popular that I was expecting it to be, so I'll make an attempt at turning it into a series. This is a genre I'm not used to writing in, so I apologize if it's not the greatest series ever written in this category. But for now, I hope you'll enjoy this continuation.)
*****
Miranda stirred her soda absentmindedly, spinning the straw lazily between her fingers. She was only vaguely aware of the hustle and bustle of the café around her. Occasionally, her ears would pick up a snippet of conversation or the sharp clank of dishes being stacked, her eyes catching a quick glimpse of a waitress rushing by. But none of those sights or sounds interested her subconscious. No, her brain would far rather focus on something much more entertaining: memories. Memories of her activities the last few weeks. Memories of her new 'friend' who kept sneaking into her apartment. Memories of the way he'd held her and coerced her and fucked her into submission...
"Hey, gentle with me this time, okay? That belt of yours left some pretty weird bruises for me to explain."
His eyes gleamed at her as he laced his fingers into her hair. Miranda leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on the tip of his cock before giving it another quick brush with her tongue. She heard his sharp inward breath, could almost feel his stomach tensing beneath his thick sweater. She smiled slightly to herself. After all the control he'd exerted over her, all the times he'd forced her into submission and nearly scared her to death, she finally held a tiny amount of sway over him.
She gave his cock another long, slow lick. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a tiny voice reminded her that this wasn't in any way normal or acceptable behavior. It was screaming at her to fight against him, to call the cops, to do anything to get away from him. She knew this wasn't how most people played out their sexual fantasies: breaking into random apartments and forcing strangers into their twisted games. Most women faced with this scenario wouldn't be so complicit in his demands.
But another voice also echoed in her mind, this one far louder than the first. The second voice reminded her of two things: the first, that no matter how playful and gentle he may seem, this man was still armed with a blade, twice her size, and had a far more extensive skill set than she did. The second, that despite his intimidating size and skill set, this man hadn't done anything to physically harm her yet. Beyond the first few bruises (and scaring her half to death), he'd been patient and calm around her, even when she'd fought and struggled against him. He was dangerous, but not immediately so. Mad as it may seem, following the second voice seemed like her best option.
She took the tip into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it a few times before slowly moving lower, taking his cock into her mouth one inch at a time. She was gentle, her pace steady and measured. She'd learned from their last encounter that exerting control over her was paramount to him. The more she complied, the less threatening he made himself. She was playing a dangerous game with that bet. For all she knew, his first few acts of kindness and patience could have all been a ruse to gain her compliance, and he'd shift into a grotesquely sadistic monster once he had her totally submissive to him. For now, though, working with him seemed a far better bet than working against him.
She'd managed to fit most of his cock into her mouth – nothing extreme like deep-throating, but enough to easily satisfy him. She swirled her tongue around his length, teasing him. He stroked her hair in return, a sign of his appreciation. Before she could continue her oral seduction, his fingers twisted tighter into her hair, holding her head steady. He slowly bucked his hips forward, driving his cock deeper into her mouth before pulling back. His hands remained knotted in her hair, immobilizing her while he pleasured himself. He now controlled the pace and depth of her blowjob, wrenching control away from her and re-establishing himself as the dominant player in this game.
He fucked her mouth slowly, almost gently, seemingly savoring the heat and feel of her mouth. Miranda held herself still, letting him resume control. The more she went along with his plan, the easier he'd be on her later. Despite his current easy-going nature, he could easily turn against her. That knife was still hooked to his belt loop. One wrong move or too much resistance and he might reintroduce her to his old friend. For the moment, though, she was perfectly content to let him work against her mouth. As much as she may balk at the idea, his dominance and control were oddly arousing. She'd never been ordered around and tied to her bed before (granted, she'd never had a stranger break into her apartment and hold her at knifepoint, either), but something about his confidence and forcefulness excited her. Brushing aside her less-than-refined partner's domineering nature, Miranda found herself beginning to enjoy his silent authority. He was both intimidating and sexy, crazy as it may sound.
She felt his hands tighten in her hair, heard his breathing become shallower and more rapid. He groaned and pulled away from her suddenly, drawing her out of her mental musings. His cock slipped from her mouth, leaving Miranda feeling strangely vacant. He leaned forward again, angling his hips so his cock pointed away from her mouth. Instead, the tip of her cock brushed against her cheek, slick and warm against her skin. She heard his ragged breathing, could almost feel him trying to force his orgasm down. She held herself still, now puzzled rather than excited. He'd had her exactly where he'd wanted her, naked and willing on her bed, and he'd been more than happy to use her body as he pleased. And yet, he'd pulled himself away from certain pleasure and was fighting every instinct to finish the job. God, that must be torture for him.
He stroked her hair again, his cock just beginning to go flaccid against her cheek. He sighed heavily, finally coming down from his high. Miranda stared at the tangle of sheets below her, dumbfounded that he would deny himself an orgasm now when he'd taken them so willingly before. He straightened, his cock slipping away from her cheek. She risked a glance upwards, curious about his self-deprivation. She still couldn't see his face beneath his damned black ski mask, but she could see his eyes. They were alight with excitement, well satisfied with her compliance. He untangled one of his hands from her hair and gently stroked her cheek with his leather-clad fingers.
Good girl. Good, good girl.
He pulled his hand away, his eyes shifting from satisfied to mischievous. He took a small step back and walked around to the other side of the bed. Miranda watched him over her shoulder, curious as to what he had planned next. Her captor sat down on the opposite side of her bed, his thigh just a few inches away from her feet. He reached out and slipped one arm under her hips, his other hand resting gently on the curve of her ass. Slowly, gently, he pulled her hips backwards and around, forcing Miranda to awkwardly shuffle backwards along the bedding until she was kneeling over his thighs.
He slid his gloved hand up her ass and along the length of her spine, the heat from his hand wonderful against her skin. Once he reached her shoulders, he pressed down gently, forcing her first onto her elbows, the all the way down onto the sheets. He did the same action with her hips, forcing her down until she was lying across his lap. One gloved hand slipped between her legs, spreading them apart slightly. Miranda whimpered softly and instinctively grabbed at the piles of sheets, nervousness now overtaking her previous sense of confidence and arousal.
His warm, gloved hand returned to her ass, stroking and massaging her flesh with his fingers. As much as she disliked his constant breaching of her security and his twisted sexual games, she loved the feeling of those warm leather gloves against her skin. There was something inherently sexy about the smooth, soft texture of the leather. She suspected that was why he'd never opted to change any part of his uniform this time around. She enjoyed this, and he had no issues using her weakness against her. His hand continued to caress her skin, making her whine softly in appreciation. Naively, she began to settle into her new position, taking the time to savor his attention.
A sharp smack on her left ass cheek brought snapped her out of her comfortable musings. It wasn't a painful blow, but it certainly stung enough to get her attention. She whipped her head around, staring at him over her shoulder. His grey eyes were locked on hers, bright and playful and overflowing with confidence. Another smack on her right cheek had her squirming against him, but, as always, he'd been one step ahead of her. His free arm was braced across the small of her back, pinning her in place. A small bubble of dread started to well up in her stomach. She'd dropped her guard, gotten too comfortable around him, and now she was going to pay for it.
He adjusted himself beneath her, finding a more comfortable position to torture her in. He moved his arm a bit, keeping her pinned below as that hand moved to cup her ass cheek. His other hand slid down between her thighs and pressed gently against her sex. The contact made her twitch involuntarily, and she heard him laugh softly at her vulnerability. She whimpered again, painfully aware of just how open and easily accessible she'd made herself.
Great job, stupid. Just fantastic.
He smacked her cheeks again, still gentle enough not to be painful but enough to burn her skin. His free hand pressed firmly against her sex, stroking the length of her slit. She moaned softly, the sensation just pleasant enough to ease her nerves. Two more sharp slaps across her ass were followed by another stroke of his fingers along her slit, and Miranda found herself easing back into the soft bedding. This was no punishment or sadistic game; this was his own confusing brand of seduction. The bubble of dread had burst, replaced with an oddly familiar sense of comfort and arousal. Her body had started responding to his teasing, her slit slowly growing wetter every time he stroked her. She squirmed under his arms slightly, finding a more comfortable position for him to tease her.
Satisfied with her acquiescence, her captor started to build a pattern. He would smack her ass twice, once on each cheek, then tease her pussy with his fingers. It was a devastatingly successful pattern, one that he'd no doubt practiced and perfected over the years. The slaps on her ass were just strong enough to be felt, the sting slowly melting into a wonderfully warm burn across her skin. The gloved fingers the skimmed her pussy were equally gentle, drawing out one lustful moan after another as he slowly worked her into submission. God, this man was good. The next two smacks across her ass had her curling her fingers into the sheets. His fingers slid along the length of her now dripping pussy once more before slowly sinking into her.
