Jailer Jac

When Jack left, after my world had shifted so violently, I fell apart. But still somehow managed to appear OK on the outside. My dad never suspected anything was amiss when he arrived home to his usual pot of warm coffee, or later, when we ate dinner and I lied about my weekend. Once I made it upstairs and locked my door, it was like my mind exploded in a million different directions at once.

I glanced at my computer and Jack's laptop on my desk. Neither of them could be trusted. So, I ended up hiding in my bathroom, sitting in the tub with my phone while I read feverishly.

I found, to a kind of relief, that arousal during assault was actually really common. So too were orgasms. If I was being honest with myself, I wasn't sure I could count it as assault, regardless of how unwanted it was. Which was yet another thing to add to my simmering pot of confusion. In a way, Jack was doing exactly what he'd set out to do, creating a Pavlov response in me. But at the end of it all, arousal did not mean desire.

So where did that leave me? I already knew Jack wouldn't stop. And he had been right about something else too. My bodily reaction was one thing, but it had all become easier when I'd accepted he wasn't being violent or trying to injure me.

For the time being, I had play along and hope the therapy bill later didn't bankrupt me. Treat Jack like a job. It seemed like I'd have plenty of time to work out what to do if his proclamation of his future plans was anything to go by.

And at least it didn't hurt.

As insurance, I smuggled an old notebook into my bathroom, the only place in the house completely safe from Dad finding it by accident, and started a journal. I wrote it all down- Jack's interest and staring and hugs, and how it all made me feel. The blackmail, the drugs and the videos. I was honest about my body's reactions too and added everything I thought was relevant about the assault and my arousal. Because it was important to remember, beneath the haze of weed and orgasms, that I didn't want it. I didn't want him. And maybe one day, I'd be free.

I hid it in the back of the vanity drawer, below my boxes of spare tampons which I'd apparently not need for a while- Jack had told me to skip the 'break' part of my contraceptive pills, partially for better protection, but mostly because I'd always be available for sex that way. Though I'd already called Family Planning and made an appointment to get an implant, because I did

not

want to take any chances.

The next afternoon, when his message pinged, I read it with more resigned acceptance than flat-out fear.

Jack: Tell your dad you have to go out

Melly: how long for?

Jack: A couple of hours

Melly:??? that's ages, I'm supposed to be cooking tonight

Jack: work it out. I told you Tues nights were on the menu.

Melly: ok

Jack: I'll be down on the next block. Look for the blue van. There's a dragon sticker on the bumper.

Melly: fine. I'll be twenty minutes.

Jack: Fifteen.

I glared at the camera and slammed the laptop shut. My mind racing, I hoped my excuse wouldn't be too lame as I stuffed prop clothes into my gym bag and ran downstairs. I found Dad in the back shed, tinkering with his woodworking projects.

"Hey Dad, I'm so sorry. I forgot I agreed to go to yoga class tonight with Ellie from work. They're already paid for. I didn't realize they were on Tuesdays, and I've been putting it off for weeks, so-"

"Yoga? Isn't that like praying on a mountaintop or something?"

"Closer to bending yourself into a pretzel and getting surprisingly sweaty doing it. Gaining inner peace and all that. Why, did you want to come?"

Dad's eyes grew wide. "No, no. I'm good. I'm not ready for yoga. Spiritually."

I laughed. "I'll be back later. You OK with a late dinner?"

"I'll cook. Go. It's nice that you're getting out and doing something besides work," he said. "I'll make my famous chicken curry."

"Not as much chili as last time, please. I think I was on fire for days," I said, feigning horror.

"That was an accident. I'll see you later."

As soon as I closed the front door behind me, my sunny disposition dropped. My steps dragged heavy and reluctant as I walked down the street, the dread in my heart blossoming when Jack's van grew closer. Each step felt like walking to my doom. I even missed the weed cookies. At least they gave me a shield of sorts. This time, I had to do this sober, and I was terrified of whether he'd coax a response out of me when my mind was clear.

The van was nondescript and fairly large, and I saw with distaste that the back windows were tinted so dark they may as well have been opaque. It fit Jack perfectly.

The door squeaked as I opened it, and I had to jump up into the seat, and lean way out to close it. I avoided Jack's gaze until the last possible moment and found him beaming at me.

"What did you tell your father?" he asked.

"I was going to yoga class."

"In a skirt?"

"That's why I have a gym bag." I said and waited as Jack looked at me expectantly. I frowned. "What?"

"Don't I get a kiss hello?" he asked, his voice deceptively pleasant.

Clenching my fist by my side, I shook my head. "Not here. My neighbors could see."

Jack scowled and started the engine, and we roared down the street. "I might have to punish you for that, Mel."

"You promised my dad wouldn't find out," I said. "You got what you asked for. I'm here. I'll do what you want. Isn't that enough?"

"For now," he muttered, lapsing into a sullen silence. He told me to take off my underwear, and grinned when I told him I wasn't wearing any as there'd seemed little point. We rumbled through the streets, headed toward the slightly seedier side of town, where empty houses slowly rotted and graffiti adorned the fences.

The sun was about to dip below the horizon as we pulled into an abandoned factory. It looked like the kind of place that girls in vans with predators should avoid, though I already knew what would happen. Jack's eyes swept the grunge-tarnished space as he headed straight toward a vast warehouse. The broken windows flashed in the sunlight, the scattered glass below glittering as we rolled through the entrance and parked in a dark, covered corner. There was no way anyone would find us. He turned to me and grinned. "Get in the back and take your clothes off."

"Are we not going to your place?"

"It's too far with limited time. Besides, I've used this van as a camper. It's fine."

I glared at him as he put up a windscreen cover, slipping into the dark space, my eyes adjusting quickly. The walls had some shelving attached full of things I couldn't quite make out, and my sandals bumped into the mattress that dominated the floor as I shuffled forward. I sighed and stripped quickly, and sat in a ball close to the back doors. The windows were so dark, even on the inside, that no light from the fading sunset made it in.

The van shook as Jack, hunched over to fit, stepped into the back. He flicked a switch, and a weak overhead light flooded the space, making his figure a looming shadow. He pulled his shirt up over his head and unbuckled his pants, stepping out of them before kneeling on the mattress.

"I know it was only one night, but I've been going crazy," he said, hooking his arm around my waist, sliding me toward him, arranging me like a doll to stretch out beside him. His lips dropped to mine, and he growled until I kissed him back, but my mind was clamoring against it all in a way it hadn't when I was high.

It took a while, but eventually I relaxed, and my body became slick. Jack had already learned how to make me respond while I was stoned, and now he was figuring out how to do the same when I was sober. It was still too little too easy as far as I was concerned, as my mind swung wildly between

run

,

response isn't desire

, and

ooooh fuck

.

"Not as wet as usual, baby," he muttered, raising his mouth from my breast.

"I'm sober. It puts a damper on the coerced sex."

"I'm sorry?"

"I know another word for it if you like?" I said sweetly, watching as his eyes turned dark.

"Oh yeah?" he growled, rolling me over onto my stomach and pressing me into the mattress with his knee, while I squealed as he captured my wrists. I heard the clink of his belt moments before he looped the end around them and yanked my arms up, securing it through the shelf supports and too high for me to get out of.

Once my hands were out of the way, he flipped me over and forced his knee between my legs, sliding down and holding my thighs in a vise grip as his mouth descended to my pussy. When I tried to buck him off, his fingers dug painfully into my soft flesh until I stilled.

Jack already knew what would get me going, and patiently licked and nibbled and sucked on my clit until my legs went slack. I knew, whenever he flicked his tongue down to circle my entrance, he was tasting my arousal that all but gushed as he worked me.

When I was close to orgasm, he crawled back up my body, and when he slid his cock inside my slick and unresisting passage, my hips rolled up toward him automatically. I kept my face turned into my arm, but I could see Jack's expression well enough. His smirk spread as little moans escaped from my throat, rising in volume as his rutting held me on the edge.

It was impossible to disassociate from the ripples of pleasure that shocked through me as he scraped over my g-spot, stabbing at some other tender place inside that craved the driving thrust of his cock. I screwed my eyes shut and pressed my face into my captive arm when Jack's fuck turned to the shorter, frantic lunges that I knew meant he was close to cumming.

The thumping of his flesh into my swollen clit pushed me over the edge, and my squeal was muffled as my knees rose and my legs wrapped around Jack's waist to hold him in as I convulsed. When the initial waves subsided, his thrusting continued to hit that spot deep in my belly and I broke over him again. My pussy milked his length as he began to spew ropes of sticky seed and Jack rammed himself in as far as he could, as if trying to inject his flooding heat directly into my womb. And my body apparently aided his efforts with the endless throes of orgasm pulsing my spasming cervix against his cock as I moaned.

When I finally calmed, I stared up at the roof of the van as my brain pointed out that my orgasm had lasted almost as long as they did when I was stoned. And that when I came around Jack's cock, they would spiral on and on, so much longer than when I masturbated. Those few dizzying seconds of frantic, sweaty release below my bedcovers were laughable compared to the euphoric splintering highs Jack forced upon me.

Of course, the crash back to reality was harder. No matter how many times he made me cum, I had to face the fact it was

him

spurting his hot semen against my spasming cervix in his strange obsession to root himself within my body and soul. Even now, I twitched with aftershocks when Jack's heavy cock, still lodged firmly inside, rubbed the flesh deep inside my belly as he endeavored to keep it all in, his hoarse breath calming against my neck.

"Yeah, you really seemed like you hated that," Jack said with a wide smirk as he unhooked the belt and finally pulled out of me with a wet slurp. "I could tell how heartbroken you were when you came the first two times. But the utter desolation in your soul was super apparent when you had your legs wrapped around me in a sexy jiu jitsu hold."

I rubbed my wrists after he let me go and glared at him. "Could you

seriously

not find someone your own age into rough stuff or something? Why me?"

"I guess you're just lucky?"

"Jack!"

He chuckled and his eyes went distant for a moment. "When you first started at the café... I'd never been so nervous to ask a girl out before. I was days away from asking for your number. Then Martin said you had to work on a school assignment when you missed game night. I thought he meant college. But when I found out you were a sophomore in high school, I felt sick," he said. "I'm not like this around other women. I've had plenty of girlfriends. But there was just something about you I couldn't forget."

"But I left. For years. Did you not get over it?"

"I tried. But part of me figured I just had to wait until you were legal. When you moved back here, it felt like a sign." It was hard to see his expression clearly in the weak light inside his truck, but something about it made me shudder. "I know it's weird right now Mel, but there will come a time when you jump on my cock willingly, and be genuinely fucking thrilled about it. I promise you that."

"Why are you so sure? Sexual response isn't the same as feelings. Anything I do is because you forced me. I would never choose this."

A dangerous gleam lit up his eyes. "I know how to be very persuasive. Or at least, I know someone that can be," he said. "And one day soon you'll say yes to just more than whether you want me to fuck your pussy."

"Don't hold your breath," I muttered, confused by his declaration, and sat up. "Can I get dressed now?"

"Not yet. I want you good and topped with my cum first," he said, palming his cock.

"Though considering how hard you came, you're probably fairly stuffed already."

I flopped back down on the mattress and sighed. "Why are you so obsessed with that? I'm not even sure that's how women's bodies work?"

It was difficult to read his shadowed expression, but he chuckled as he lay beside me, propped up on his side. "Honestly? I have a bit of a breeding kink. And while I don't actually want to knock you up right now, the idea of my sperm inside you is incredibly hot."

I tried to ignore that, because I didn't share his joy in that thought. "But I'm on the pill. So I don't think they can, uh, get in?"

"I checked. The pill stops the eggs, so yeah, you can't get pregnant so long as you take them. But as for the sperm? It's harder, but it's not impossible. And considering how much I've cum inside you, yeah. You almost definitely have a whole lot of me in there right now."

"Why do my orgasms matter though? You could just as easily cum either way," I said as I fought a grimace.

"There's a theory that when women orgasm, their cervix kind of dives into the pool of cum and sucks it in. It's not proven, but it fits my kink, so..." he trailed off, his hand leaving my waist and sliding up to caress my breasts. "Besides, when I decided to do this, I promised myself I would make it good for you. And seeing, hell, even just remembering you cumming while you're stuffed full of cock, is an incredible turn on."

"This is like a fucked-up sex-ed lesson," I muttered.

"You are quite the student though. Especially when you get your mind out of the way and just

feel

," he said critically. "Why do you think I gave you the cookies?"

"To get me stoned and compliant. Maybe roofies weren't available. I don't know."

"Weed isn't like that. It doesn't make you a mindless zombie. But they'll start getting phased out in a few weeks anyway."

"What? You want me to do this sober all the time? I-"

"I won't tell you to trust me, but I promise you again, you'll be willing. Sooner rather than later," he said, stuffing a pillow behind him and leaning back on to the wall of the van. "Now come here."

I glared at him, but his eyes met my challenge, and I looked away first. He grinned and stroked himself as I crawled over to him, and pushed my head down to his crotch.

"Lick my balls. Then you can suck my cock," he said, holding me captive by my hair as the scent of sex and the ghost of his soap drifted up toward me. I stuck out my tongue and darted the tip over the wrinkled skin, and Jack groaned, pulling my face closer. "Lick them, Mel. Now."

I learned quickly that it was a different art than sucking cock. When I sucked too hard, his fist in my hair would tighten so I felt the individual strands pull free of my scalp. He'd growl and give me a jolt, and shove me back into his crotch, and groaned when I did well.

A fat bead of pre had slid down his length when he pulled me off his balls and angled his cockhead toward my face. He smeared it over my lips before pushing between them, and his fingers twisted into my hair as he slid his heavy shaft so deep I choked while my saliva drooled down all the meat he'd not been able to fit in my mouth.

Jack was getting close to cumming, I could tell from his breathing. I sucked harder, hoping that if I got him off faster, I could go home.

"Turn around. Get on your hands and knees," he said, his voice hoarse when he pulled out of my mouth. I didn't move fast enough for him, his grip on my body rough as he hooked his hands under my hips and lifted me up, slamming his cock inside me.

My breath left me in a high-pitched squeal, half-discomfort and half-arousal, as he fucked me. Jack was rough, and I jolted forward with every thrust, hating the way my spine curved and raised my ass up toward him. His thrusts burned, despite my passage still slippery and slick with his cum.

I recognized his fuck, the rutting drive driven entirely by his pleasure. And although my body warmed, even driving moans from me when he hit sensitive spots inside, it felt out of sync. Jack was working steadily toward his own orgasm only, and in that moment I was little more than a fuckhole.

When I reached below me to rub my clit, he leaned down and grabbed my arms above my elbows, pulling me half up on my knees and using gravity to pull me back onto his cock. The fuck became almost violent, and Jack's moan was hoarse and guttural in the tiny, steamy space.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind and drove himself in all the way, groaning as his erupting cock coated my insides. I was close enough to my own release to feel it, every pulse of his swollen shaft pushing me further, but not close enough. I writhed in his grip, trying to free my hands to touch my throbbing clit, but his grip just tightened.

We tipped sideways on to the mattress when Jack's orgasm subsided. He stayed stuffed inside me, his meaty cock enough, even slightly deflated, to keep his cum sealed within. Keeping my arms trapped with one hand, he slid the other between my thighs and ran his fingertips through my folds, tracing my lips still stretched around him and finally reaching my clit. His fingers pulsed and stuttered, driving my body steadily toward the precipice of bliss.

Just as I was about to explode, he stopped and tightened his grip on me when I jerked in protest. My struggles faded, as did my almost-orgasm. Then he started again. Over and over he drove me to the edge and left me there to slide back down, unfulfilled, until I was exhausted and close to weeping with need. Finally, Jack laughed.

"Actually, you're probably full enough for now," he said, his fingers pulling away from my swollen clit at the same time as he withdrew from my body. Jack chuckled at my protesting squeak, shoving me unceremoniously to the far side of the mattress as he pulled on his boxers. "Better get you home!"

I rolled over and stared at him, my stomach clenching as the tide of orgasm inched once more away from my reach.

"Was there something you wanted, Mel? What's wrong baby?" he said, false innocence in his voice.

"Nothing," I grated from between clenched teeth, knowing he'd stop me if I tried to touch myself.

Jack chuckled as he dressed. I was still dressing when he climbed into the front and started the van. As we drove back to my home, every jolt over rough roads felt like a teasing torment.