Stalking Amber Ch 02

I'd like to thank TSB for giving this a read over :)

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Curled on her side, Amber sighed sleepily as she felt the comfortable warmth of a man's body spooning her.

"Mmmm Freddy," she murmured, wriggling back so they fit snugly together, "I had the worst dream." A strong arm circled her waist, hand playfully tickling up her flat stomach. Amber giggled, feeling his erection hotly rubbing against her buttocks as the hand moved higher and cheekily squeezed her breast.

"Hmmm," Amber smiled naughtily and arched, enjoying the hand slowly toying with her nipple as a pair of lips mischievously traveled along her shoulder. Her body began to warm with sexual anticipation. "Do we have time? Don't you have to be...?"

Amber's ice-blue eyes flew open in horror. Fred had a small amount of chest hair, and the large, firm, body pressed against her was completely smooth. And there was a chain on her ankle.

"Argh!" she screamed, all sleepiness ripped from her mind as she frantically tried to disengage herself from the body she had encouraged a moment ago.

Bright morning light streamed in through the window, and for the first time Amber got a clear view of the bedroom. It was evidently a large guest-room, as impressively furnished as the rest of the house. The blue walls seemed less oppressive in the light of day, and the side of the room Amber faced was lined with a black-velvet settee, a sleek oak desk and a dark-brown cabinet. There was another door, obviously leading to an ensuite. A scattering of framed photographs decorated the walls, mostly landscapes.

"Shhhh," Brad whispered in her ear, holding her tightly against him.

"No! What-what," Amber gasped in a panic, writhing in his hold as the reality of the previous evening flashed through her mind, along with the disturbing realisation she was buck naked. Using his weight, Brad forced her over onto her stomach, holding her down.

"Umff!" Amber huffed, both hands down on the mattress, trying to push herself up. She might as well have been trying to lift a bus. "Errgh," she complained, angrily straining under his weight, "you're squashing me!"

"No, I'm not," Brad's deep voice slightly quivered with humour. "I'm only using enough pressure to keep you down. You're just being a sore loser because you can't get up."

"Please," Amber pleaded, turning her face into the mattress as Brad used his knees to spread her legs. He arched back, and she squealed as she felt his hard cock prod her, nudging around her pussy. "Don't, Brad, please! Not again!"

"Yes, again," he breathed excitedly. Curling one hand into her soft, blond hair, he turned her head to the side so he could lean down to kiss her cheek and the side of her lush, pink mouth. "I left you alone all night, and it nearly killed me."

"This isn't- this isn't..." Amber stammered, trying to think of something, anything.

"This is how things are going to be," Brad spoke firmly into her ear. "You're going to lose count of the times we make love. There's no point begging."

"No, please," Amber begged anyway, tears of shock and frustration running down her flushed cheeks. She trembled as she felt Brad's warm mouth trying to collect her tears with kisses. "We're not making love, this is rape!" she argued, trying to turn her face away, but his hand in her hair wouldn't allow it.

Brad didn't answer, but he curled over her shoulder so his mouth could reach hers, and her lips opened against his as she gasped, feeling him enter her from behind. Though she was incredibly tight, his entry was smooth, because she was slick with their fluids from the night before.

"Mmmph!" she groaned, desperately trying to shift him off her. Brad released her mouth and raised slightly so he could slide in deeper.

"You're still wet," Brad grunted, jerking his hips against her in small thrusts, "really wet. I should surprise you more often." His lips formed into a sexy half-smile as she feebly tried to kick back at him, which only spread her legs more and gave him room to press deeper.

"Oh, Amber, baby," he sighed, driving his full length inside her and beginning to pump in earnest.

"Oh!" Amber cried out in surprise as she was again stuffed full of cock. Brad pounded her at a steady pace, and each time he drove into her, her body seemed to be shocked with an electric pleasure. "Uh! Stop! Brad! Uh! Don't!"

After a few minutes he withdrew and she sighed in relief. But her relief was short-lived as he suddenly pulled her up by her hair onto all fours.

"Oh, God," he said thickly, looking down and firmly seizing her hips as she tried to crawl away. "Oh, no you don't," he muttered with an amused smile, one hand sliding up over her smooth back to grip her neck as the other roamed her ass cheeks before spreading one to the side. His smile widened as he watched himself enter her.

"Don't do it, Brad! I'll fucking kill you!" Amber shrieked, feeling a tingling warmth spread across her pussy as he squeezed into her. After entering her fully, Brad began to thrust with a power that forced her whole body to jerk forward on the bed. Bent over, unable to escape, Amber realised she was a prisoner, with no choice but to be used over and over again by a man she was physically no match against.

Though her body was aroused, Amber's mind was too disturbed to get anywhere near an orgasm as she absorbed the awful new reality of her circumstances as a modern-day sex slave. In her head, Amber fleetingly scanned through all the freedoms she'd taken for granted, things she already missed dreadfully. She wanted to go to the park and sit in the sun, go to the gym, sit on the couch with Fred, eat unhealthy food and laugh at shitty TV. She'd give anything just to have Fred hold her and tell her everything was ok, soothe her fears while she cried like a baby.

Instead she was naked on all fours, being fucked like a whore by a complete stranger. Amber wept bitterly, hearing Brad's delighted grunting behind her increase until he moaned, reaching a shuddering climax. Shaking from his release, he spread her ass-cheeks with both hands so he could watch himself slowly pump in and out of her as he finished. When he finally pulled out, Amber scrambled away from him in disgust to the other corner of the bed, as far as the chain would allow, while he sat back on his heels, hands on his hips, still panting.

"I'm sorry, Amber," he said, not really sounding sorry as he tossed his head, flicking his chestnut fringe from his ocean-blue eyes. "I meant to take it slower, but I couldn't stop myself."

"Are you going to kill me when you're done using me?" Amber asked shakily, gathering the sky-blue blanket to her so she could cover her nakedness, wondering when he had undressed her.

"You have the most amazing coloured eyes," Brad commented, tilting his head, noting how her eyes seemed even brighter as they picked up the pale-coloured bedsheets. "Sometimes they're light blue, sometimes they look like white crystal."

'Great,' Amber thought, 'he'll probably cut them out for souvenirs.'

When she ignored his compliment, Brad sighed impatiently. "I told you last night, you're here to be with me. I'm not going to hurt you." He climbed off the bed and began to put on his trousers.

"Your clothes are in those," he told her, gesturing toward the brown chest of drawers. "And also some extras that will suit you," he smiled wickedly as she shook her head at him.

"You need help," she insisted, trying to keep the panic from her voice. "Please, Brad, let me get you help."

"You're all the help I need," he replied, dismissing her diagnosis. "What would you like for breakfast?"

Amber trembled with anger and hatred, but she was also trying to stay calm, keep her wits about her. How could she turn this to her advantage?

"Steak," she answered, curling her knees to her chest under the blanket, grimacing as she felt some of Brad's warm cum leak out of her. "And a morning-after pill."

"You wouldn't want to hurt our future child?" Brad asked with exaggerated shock. Amber glared at him, not dignifying his question with an answer. Finally, he shrugged, doing up his trousers.

"Ok, baby," he said, turning to the door, "I'll see what I can do." Pausing thoughtfully with his hand on the doorknob, he looked back at her with amusement, his large, bare chest coated in a light sheen of sweat from his recent exertion.

"Isn't steak a bit heavy for breakfast?" he questioned cheerfully, opening the door. His toned biceps flexed as he turned to face her, crossing his arms and leaning against the frame. "Never mind. How do you like your steak cooked?" he inquired.

"Medium," Amber said through grit teeth.

"Ok," Brad nodded, smirking. "And what size pieces would you like me to cut it into?" A knowing grin spread across his handsome face as he registered Amber's stunned expression.

"Oh, Amber, you didn't think I'd give you a steak knife?" he said incredulously. Lightly tutting, he opened the door. "I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself," he laughed, and left her.

"Fuck you!" he heard her scream from inside the room, and a few seconds later something crashed against the door. Frowning, he realised he'd cleared the room of all potential weapons, but he didn't anticipate she'd rip a picture from the wall. Feisty.

Shaking his head, Brad casually stepped down the stairs towards the kitchen. Opening the well-stocked fridge, he glanced here and there, picking out the ingredients he needed, only mildly thinking about cooking as the majority of this thoughts were preoccupied with his beautiful captive upstairs.

It wasn't just her appearance, Brad was accustomed to being pursued by beautiful women. From the moment he first saw her, there was something about Amber that sucked him right in. After the kidnapping, he did consider the small possibility that he'd tire of her after a few months, but since being intimate with her twice, enjoying snippets of her personality, he felt well on the way to being head-over-heels in love.

It made his chest swell, the way she'd dreamily giggled and cuddled into him, even though he'd been mistaken for another man. Remembering their encounter, his cock began to harden again in his trousers. Everything about her excited him - her begging, her anger, her pleasure. Brad knew she could be happy with him if she would just stop being so stubborn, yet her stubbornness was another element he appreciated, unless it was the direct cause of his sexual frustration. After last night, he knew he could give her pleasure, it was just a matter of making her admit and embrace it. But where would it all lead? Brad's brow slightly contracted as he envisioned dragging Amber down a wedding aisle, kicking and screaming. Maybe she'd be more accepting of him if he got her pregnant.

Frowning, Brad began to peel potatoes. Physical domination was no issue, but he couldn't put his finger on how to make her submit emotionally. What if she never gave in? Could they continue like this forever? He paused his task and contemplatively stared at the white wall in front of him. Visualising Amber's exquisite features, her stunning bright eyes, pale-gold hair, her amazing naked body writhing against him, he knew the answer. She could be his prisoner, or his lover, but he was not letting her go.

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Amber explored the ensuite, and though she couldn't quite reach the shower, she could reach the bath, which had an extended shower-head. She washed herself thoroughly, trying to get all traces of Brad off and out of her.

After drying herself with a fluffy yellow towel, Amber went through the cabinet drawers and dressed in the most unattractive outfit she could find - her grey gym tracksuit and red sports t-shirt, carefully zipping the hoodie all the way to the top. Amber was disgusted to learn that Brad, evidently a g-string man, had neglected to pack her any sensible, practical underwear. But a g-string was better than nothing, so she put on four pairs.

With great distaste she discovered several Bordelle lingerie items, ranging in style from demure to kinky dominatrix. Digging further in search of less-provocative underwear, she found the Victoria's Secret stash. Knowing Brad expected her to wear the seductive apparel for him, and that they must have cost an absolute bomb, Amber spitefully did her best to irreparably ruin them. The quality fabric was quite durable, and she angrily wished for a pair of scissors, only managing to properly tear minor areas of delicate silk and lace.

After she dressed, Amber gingerly walked about the room, trying to determine how far the chain reached. The windows were decoratively barred and locked, the glass heavily tinted. The air-conditioning had been softly running since the night before, and the torturous ticking of the clock had somehow switched off. Amber was only just out of reach of the door that led into the hallway.

After staring miserably at the exit for a full five minutes, she turned back to the room with a deep sigh. Glancing through to the bathroom and vaguely settling her gaze on the white sink directly within, she perked up as a thought struck her. The chain rattled along the floor as Amber ran across it into the bathroom, quickly opening the white cupboard doors under the sink, ducking down and looking around. Standing, she looked at the small plug in her hand.

"Bingo," she whispered.

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Potatoes and salad ready, steak resting, Brad hummed pleasantly, drumming his fingers along the counter as he waited. He looked up at the ceiling curiously as he heard the faint rhythm of the water mechanism starting up.

"Huh," he said absently. He'd heard the water turn on when Amber washed the first time. Obviously one wash wasn't enough to make her feel clean of him. Well, if that was her mindset, she was going to be washing very frequently in future. He chuckled, thinking she may as well live in the shower with the way his libido responded to her.

Checking his watch, the steak was ready, and Brad smiled as he neatly cut it into chewable pieces, thinking of how he'd humoured her meal choice, but foiled her little plan to get hold of a knife.

"Cute," he sniggered. Opening the cutlery drawer, he picked out a plastic fork, added it to the plate and headed toward the staircase, whistling.

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"Come on, come on," Amber urged, impatiently hopping from one foot to the other, watching the sink fill with water. She didn't know what the plan was, but perhaps if she flooded the place, it would get someone's attention. Or Brad would have to call a repairman and ultimately unchain her. At the very least, she'd have the satisfaction of damaging a part of his very nice house.

"Hmmmm..." drawled a deep voice from behind, bringing Amber around with a shriek to face Brad's bare chest. In her fixation on the sink, she hadn't noticed him quietly enter the room, step over the shattered picture, place the food on the bed and creep right up behind her. As she gaped up at him, he brushed past, calmly turned off the tap and pulled out the plug. The water was less than an inch away from overflowing.

"What was the plan Amber?" Brad smiled thinly, bringing to Amber's memory the fact she had no plan. With no reply, Amber watched anxiously as he walked towards her. She staggered back, but he continued past her to the bed. He picked up the food, carried it to the other side of the room and gently placed it upon a sturdy, black side-table. Then he contemplatively ran a fingertip along the table's gleaming surface.

"Trying to get my attention, Amber?" he asked quietly, his large, naked back to her.

"No," she answered, nervously running her eyes over the muscles down his torso, wondering why he'd just cleared the bed.

"Well, you have it now," Brad turned to face her, and his blue eyes were full of lust, running up and down her grey tracksuit, making her feel naked. Amber shook her head vigorously as he slowly began to untie his trousers.

"No, Brad, please," she pleaded weakly, edging back. "I'm sorry, please."

Ignoring her plea, he nodded to her tracksuit. "Take that off."

"Please, Brad," Amber tried again, "I said I was sorry. Please." Raising her light eyes to see the blue steel in his, she saw his determination to take her again, and teach her a lesson in the process.

Brad's trousers fell to his ankles and he stepped out of them. "If you don't," he told her casually, neatly folding his pants and placing them on the desk next to her meal, "I'll happily do it for you."

Amber didn't want that, but she couldn't bring herself to undress for him. As he stepped toward her, his erection clearly visible through his black underwear, she stepped back, quickly unzipping her hoodie and tossing it toward him, as though he was a seagull and the jacket was a piece of bread. Except she knew that the piece of bread he wanted was her.

"There," she said breathlessly. "Now, stop. Don't come any closer."

"Keep going, Amber," Brad grinned, slowly stalking her as she stumbled backward. Eventually she backed into the black desk and stared up at him desperately.

"No, no," Amber whispered, as he reached her, and in a last-ditch escape effort she sank to the floor, trying to scoot back under the desk. Laughing, he bent and dragged her out from under it by her ankles, then he straightened, watching her cower beneath him, her blue eyes brightened with tears.

"Baby, don't cry. It's not that bad," Brad tried to soothe her, genuinely disturbed by the fear in her eyes. "It's not as though you won't enjoy it," he reasoned, holding out his hands to pull her up. "Come on," he said kindly, "I'll make it good for both of us."

It had been less than 12 hours, and Brad was already going for round 3. Not that she was hurting, but at this rate, Amber anticipated she'd have to go out and buy a new vagina before the end of the week. Brad told her that it had required three men of his size to put the anchor under the bed. Had they known what Brad would use it for? Was she going to be abused by all of them?

In a nervous daze, she ignored his outstretched arms and slowly gathered into a kneeling position, readying to stand up. Then she did what any girl would do to avoid being raped. She gathered her fingers into a tight fist and punched him in the nuts.

Brad gasped in shock and bent over, grunting in agony. Amber scrambled around him and heard him hit the floor behind her. Grabbing his trousers from the table, she shook them out, almost bursting into tears as a piece of silver fell from a pocket, glimmering as it caught the light. Unlocking herself from the chain, she dashed for the door, and on the way out she saw him awkwardly rise to his feet, gripping the bedpost for support.

"AMBER!" Brad screamed behind her, and Amber began to sob as she fled through the hall and down the stairs, wishing she'd been more quick to unlock her ankle.

"AMBER! STOP!" he bellowed from the top of the stairs and in a moment of blind horror, she couldn't resist glancing back to see him practically throw himself down the staircase after her.

Skidding through the kitchen, she flew down the high-ceilinged hallway and fumbled with the front door. The latch gave, and Amber pulled it open a few inches before it suddenly slammed shut. Temporarily winded by the force of Brad barrelling into her from behind, Amber gasped when a large, angry hand gripped her neck, wrenched her away from the exit and onto the hall floor.

"Ouch, Brad, you're hurting me!" Amber rasped, as his hold on her neck tightened brutally. Breathing raggedly in pain, Brad slowly got to his feet, dragging her up with him, and marched her towards the kitchen. In silence, both panting, they unsteadily staggered through the kitchen, past the stairway that led to the bedroom, and into an adjoining lounge-room. Stumbling along blindly, both of Ambers hands were behind her, wrapped around the wrist connected to the hand cruelly contracting around the back of her neck.