Taken 37

Restless rustling came from Cynthia's bed as she stirred. The early autumn air, felt through the slightly open, second floor window, carried a brisk chill. There was a scraping sound as the first dead leaves of fall skittered across the porch roof shingles beneath the sill. The only light in the room, was from a street lamp, filtered in through the leaves of the trees in the backyard, it fell in dappled darkness across the comforter.

A form passed by the window, fleeting in existence but still, Cynthia sighed in her slumber. As the shadows deepened briefly and a silhouette shaded her face, she rolled to her side. Perhaps the quiet swish of the sash awoke her, or it could have been the gust of cold air rushing in with the window's opening, nevertheless, she laid with her eyes wide open and tried to see through the night.

When a hand covered her mouth, Cynthia was so consumed with terror that she was paralyzed. His other hand moved to the neck of her nightie and pulled fiercely at the soft, worn material, it tore and as the fingers of that big hand slipped over her breast she roused and tried to push it away. Too strong for Cynthia's struggles to be effective against him, the intruder whispered in her ear, "Relax! I won't hurt you if you just . . . " he grunted as her knee hit his inner thigh, "Fuck! Relax!"

His fingernail teased her nipple to hardness and Cynthia squirmed beneath his weight, while jolts of feeling seemed to zap through her breast and directly to her pussy. She increased her efforts to get away, shamed by her body's response to his touch. He pressed his mouth over the same nipple he'd been tugging at, sucking it in and scraping his teeth across the erect nub. Without wanting to, as the soft, stroke of his tongue played a counterpoint to his pleasured humming at her breast, she moaned.

He moved to the other, teasing and playing with it, back and forth between the two, even though she didn't know who it was, it seemed important to him that Cynthia be aroused. His attention to her breasts and nipples continued for long moments. She resolved that she couldn't fight him and win. Desperate, she sought a solution through her confusion and fear. Hoping that if she did as he said she'd escape with her life, she surrendered to the desire she was feeling and licked the finger that was digging into her lips. The rapist released some of the pressure off her mouth and she moved her head until she could tickle his palm with her tongue tip. She shivered at his laughter because he sounded so evilly triumphant.

He brought his face up, his whiskers like a rasp against her skin and replaced his hand with his lips. Cynthia tasted whiskey and tobacco in his bruising kiss. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, almost gagging her as he bumped the soft palate deep inside and on the roof of her mouth. Overcoming her revulsion, she sucked and tangled her tongue with his. The man moved his own long, thick one suggestively in and out of her mouth.

She felt his hand slip down her along her side as far as the hem of her nightgown. His fingers petted the skin of her thigh as he pushed the remnants of her nightdress out of the way. "No! Please, don't!" Cynthia gasped when his touch fluttered over her mons, brushing across the downy pubes then stalling at her tightly closed thighs.

"Let me." His tone brooked no argument. She spread her legs. Granted access, he moved his finger down to her crease and between her folds, seeking and finding her opening. He hesitated there, pushing but not really moving inside. His palm moved over her clit when he cupped her pussy and squeezed her mound. Then his long finger circled the swelling bud, as if promising more. He parted her little, inner lips and pressed inside, stretching her, caressing. He paused, raising his lips from hers, "You're so tight and wet, princess," his voice rasped and sounded flat, "Yeah, baby. I'm gonna fuck you."

The discomfort she felt as his clothing dragged over her fragile skin was nothing compared to what his hand was doing at her vagina, "Don't hurt me. Please! I'll do anything you ask. Don't hurt me!"

He moved over beside her on the bed, holding his hand still, letting her accept his finger. "You'll like it, baby," slowly dragging his hand back, his touch slipped across her clit, "Do it. Relax, my sweet fuck, God, yes!" He moaned his approval as her hips rolled up to meet his inward stroke. He slowly fingered her tight opening and almost tenderly, once more, took her nipple into his mouth.

The tingles through her pussy seemed to radiate a heat as the rapist expertly drew her response from deep inside. His knowing invasion felt somehow pleasurable and Cynthia cursed her body for its betrayal. As she rolled toward him, she moaned one last, drawn out, denial, "No."

She whimpered in protest when he stopped and rolled to his back, leaving her almost nude body uncovered. He didn't move. He didn't say anything for long moments. It was as if, now that he had her reluctant co-operation, he was waiting for her. Cynthia daren't move, she held her breath for what seemed forever and then gave a long, ragged moan as she released it. "Why? What are you doing?" Her voice was shaky with reaction. "Do it. You prick!" venom dripped from her voice as she gained confidence, "Do it or go!"

She heard him unbuckle his belt and the sound of his zipper snapped her back to reality. She covered her body with her arms and tried to get off the bed. He grabbed her shoulders and brought her against him again, "Hush, feel this?" His hand covered hers and placed her palm over his groin, "You did this to me. I want you!"

Cynthia felt his pulse throbbing through his swollen cock. She was enthralled at the heat he radiated. He began moving her hand along his shaft as if she were some kind of puppet. She drew a shaky breath and closed her fingers around him, pumping her fist along his length.

The rapist groaned as her fingers touched his erection. He reached back to fondle her, more gently this time. At least her cooperation had bought her a bit of tenderness, her rueful thought quelled her tears and she spread her thighs even wider to his questing fingers. He moved to press his mouth to her neck. Cynthia felt his lips and tongue, kissing down, stopping to suckle each nipple, pausing to trace the round swell of her breast. He licked down along her chest, across the soft skin of her tummy and then, to tickle her belly button.

His fingers had continued to move, shallowly in and out of her tight opening and he brushed them over her clit with each slow prod into her. Her response was hot and immediate. Cynthia, being so inexperienced, had no idea of how arousing her passion could be to men, she only knew that his touch felt wonderful in spite of her loathing. She needed him physically with no idea why she should. When he placed a kiss on the soft wisps of her pubes, she drew a ragged breath and lifted her hips to him.

It felt so wrong to her when his tongue swiped across her pussy. He was humming again, almost singing his desire as he aroused her with a flick of his tongue. His mouth was so slippery and wet against her. She wanted to protest, to argue and plead with him, to beg him to stop. Instead, when he sucked the erect nub of her clit at the same time he added a second finger to his fucking, she rolled her hips, unable to speak. Her resolve melted away as the excitement continued to build. Now, she wanted him to go on and on.

As her peak neared, Cynthia stilled her hips. For tortured seconds she thought she'd be left hanging there, on the edge of orgasm. Praying that he wouldn't stop his noisy enjoyment of her, she dug her fingers into the sheets. Abruptly, with exquisite heat, she was experiencing a very intense orgasm. She could hear him gasping as her muscles contracted around his finger. He withdrew it and lightly kissed her sex as the spasms quaked through her. She squirmed and rolled through the exquisite sensations.

Her breath came in great sobs as she realized that she'd surrendered. He tauntingly licked over her clit and laughed as her hips jerked in reply. Seemingly eager to have his cock in her, he knelt between her splayed thighs and grasped her around the waist. Like a rag doll he pulled Cynthia to him, holding her close and nudging her with his erection. The velvet textured head slipped along the almost liquid heat of her crease and his shaft nestled between her inner lips. He held her and lifted her, moving her hips up and down along his cock.

He sat back on his heels and moved his hand between their bodies. He grasped his cock at the base and moved it, teasing her, before leaving it to rest between her swollen pussy lips. Cynthia, a reluctantly willing participant, wrapped her arms around his neck and swung her hips back, feeling his cock head slip along her slit. He aimed that hard thing at her interior and left it to rest, poised at her opening.

The stretching she felt was perversely welcome even though his fucking was a violation. He lifted her ass up and down, taking her with just the head of his swollen prick. Confused, Cynthia battled against the pleasure her body was experiencing from this shallow fucking. "Do it! Get it over with!" she whispered, her voice harsh and tormented. She was praying that this wasn't really happening and that she wasn't, in any possibility, liking what he was doing.

"Okay. Now . . . ," he grunted and suddenly, Cynthia felt extraordinary pleasure as he impaled her on his hard cock. She collapsed against his chest while all strength fled from her limbs, leaving her limp in his hold. The zipper of his jacket was hard against her and the denim of his jeans felt harsh on her thighs. Tears flowed down her cheeks and she rested her head on his shoulder.

He possessively stroked his hands over her back. As he murmured soft, pleasured noises, he cupped her ass in his big, rough hands, rocking her on his cock. Her clit was rubbing against his shaft and she could feel his cock head massaging her inside.

Cynthia joined him in his pleasured moans as she rolled her hips against him, working on satisfying both of them physically. Creating friction and pressure, she mashed her mons against him. He lifted her, sliding her almost off his cock and when she was agonizing that he'd finished with her, he thrust back into her, pulling her down at the same time. There was such wonderful tension building inside her. She moved with him, wanting more.

She wanted to orgasm again. She needed it. All the time her mind kept trying to argue with her body. How she hated her anatomy! Wet, swollen sexuality that, even in the midst of rape responded to a solid male's thrusting. She moaned as his fingers found her clit. Her soft whimpering pleas telling him, "Oh God! Don't . . ."

"Hurry. Cum for me, you nasty slut!" he demanded her response.

She could feel a new fireball seem to burst through her. Pleasure radiated around her vitals, from behind her clit, as her pussy clenched around his cock. He plowed into her with hard, pounding strokes. Cynthia fell back onto the bed, yet still, he pulled her ass against him, feeding her orgasm with every pump of his hips. She moaned, her only coherent words, the protest of, "No. No more!"

His cock seemed to expand as he collapsed forward, onto her. His masculine screams were muffled against her pillow as he ejaculated into her. She could feel wetness squeeze out from her pussy, around his cock. They lay trembling as his release completed. With a groan, the man rolled from Cynthia. She could hear his belt buckle and his zipper as he tucked himself together.

"I'm going. Don't worry, baby, I'll be back." he got to his feet and stood, shrouded in darkness. He bumped against the night table and cursed. Absurdly, Cynthia wanted to laugh, she suppressed the nervous impulse and once again, held her breath as he walked across the room and slipped out through the open window, leaving her spent on the bed.