SHARED
I woke, bewildered. I tried to move my arms but they refused me. I felt panic roar through me. My arms, I couldn't feel my hands! It was dark. I was blind! My body vibrated with remembered pleasure.
It came back to me. The step inside the front door, the arm around my waist, his mouth on my pussy, his cock in my mouth, the kiss, mounted on his cock like a corsage; it all came back to me in a trembling rush. My blindfold was still in place. I didn't know what time it was. I sensed him, realized my numb shoulder was against his bare back. I bumped it with my forehead. He groaned and rolled against me, almost like I wasn't there.
"What?" He mumbled.
"My arms, my hands are numb. I can't feel anything." I whispered, not wanting to hear my own voice. The sex hangover and the utter collapse, the full surrender to this man stood over me like a looming giant. I closed my eyes tight, glad I was blindfolded and bound. A stranger was naked beside me. I'd not even seen his face.
"Yeah, okay." He muttered. "Hang on."
I felt the bed heave as he rolled off of it. I heard his belt buckle rattle and then there was the sharp, sickening snick of a switchblade snapping into place. The bed moved again. His hands felt along my upper arms. They tingled painfully but dully, not really feeling him but knowing he was there. He found the stocking wound around my wrists and there was a soft ripping sound and my arms flexed free. I couldn't feel my hands. My arms below the elbows were like attached pieces of meat I no longer owned. It frightened me. I tried to move my hands but sensed nothing. His hand rolled me onto my back. I came aware that I was naked, still. He laid the cold knife on my tummy. It lay there, metallic and cold. I went completely still.
His hand, however, was not still. It traveled below my waist, his calluses scraped along my skin. I was smooth shaved so felt his fingers on me, the thick pad on his palm next to his thumb, the ridges of dead flesh torn away from calluses. His finger found my slit and entered me, pushing into me. I groaned.
"You are hot, woman. What's the matter, your old man ignoring you?" His sneer irritated me.
"No. I love sex. You need practice, though, buddy."
Lay back and enjoy it. No fear. Fight the fear. The fear leaves the marks.
His finger probed inside me and then left me. I felt him move my arms over my head. He crouched over me in my imposed darkness. With a knee he moved my left knee closest to him wide and then he was between my legs. The fear welled up in me. I fought it. This man had raped me and was about to rape me again. The thrill stood up to be recognized and I did. I understood I longed for him to be inside me once more. The sensation wobbled around in me like a drunk cat. I was being raped but I'd climaxed with him, not just once but several times.
His cock found my pussy. The head nuzzled at me. I came aware of his knees pushing my thighs wide. He leaned over me. I could feel his breath on my face.
"You are a beautiful woman." He breathed. "And I'm going to fuck you, all weekend." Then he kissed the side of my mouth. That suggested it might be dark but why would he speak of my beauty now? If it was dark? The next thing I felt was his mouth on the inner curve of my right breast. I felt the back of his head on my other breast. He sucked on the skin, hard.
I wriggled under his kiss.
"No. Don't mark me. Please." I whispered urgently. His lips released me but then sought and found my nipple. He sucked hard on it and I felt the electric zing flash through me and I was instantly aroused. "I said, I'd do anything you wanted, if you don't hurt me, if you don't mark me."
His lips released me. I couldn't help but think my words affected him and I felt a flush of pride. The truth may have been the belated response to being told I was beautiful. A girl likes to hear that, even when it is a stranger raping her. We won't admit it, even to ourselves but knowing that he was fucking me because of straight up lust, that he couldn't resist fucking me again, and he thought I was beautiful, that got to me, well, that and the presence of the head of his cock nosing into me. A vast shiver ran through me. He was entering me a millimeter at a time, so slow I wanted to scream, to demand that he push it into me.
You can't rape the willing. What if he wasn't raping me? What if he was fucking me and I was fucking him back? Did that matter? No. Not right then. Later but not then. At that moment, when I felt the agony of feeling returning to my hands and arms, all I wanted was to feel his big cock inside me again. Then the asshole kissed me.
My hips rose under him, thrusting his cock into me, which was what I wanted. That was unmistakable. The knife still lay on my belly and I think he forgot about it. He lay down on me and it was between us. His hands, though, reached up and pinned my hands over my head. His cock ground down into me through the folds of ecstasy. I gasped with the pleasure of it. His weight sagged between my legs, pinning me to the bed.
"Oh Christ." I whispered. "Oh please, fuck me!" The facade dropped, like there'd been any reluctance in the first place in my behavior. I was acting like a sex-starved woman but I wasn't acting and I wasn't sex starved. His dick inside me stirred something in me that I'd never wanted to admit was there. John had glimpses, like when I asked him to suck milk from my swollen tits when the baby refused to. I remembered his look before he did and how he tried to fuck me after. We made a mess.
The cock inside me disappeared. A noise interrupted my growing arousal. He heard it too.
"What's that?"