The Caveman's Captive

In truth, it had been several weeks since I had had sex with anyone, as I didn't feel that my fingers and a vibrator really counted. I had had offers, but none of them had interested me. Most of them had been made in bars while I was there with girlfriends having a chicks' night out. Those offers had been fairly crude, and had been of the '

as long as I got a face, you've got a place to sit

' variety. I dismissed all of them, usually with some smartass remark.

Unfortunately, that hadn't helped the state of my libido. I had even considered an offer from one of the girlfriends, who was gay, made no bones about it, and had a standing offer to all of us if we ever wanted to '

go for a walk on the other side

'. However, I still wasn't ready to admit defeat, and I was even a little scared that I might just find that I enjoyed '

the other side

' a little too much.

There was one guy that came to mind. We had been together before, and had even gone away for a long weekend. My memory of that weekend came back to me, and I smiled, at the same time as I felt a pulse go through my groin. We had stayed in various bed and breakfasts and country inns, and had even made love one night in front of a roaring fireplace, on top of a few blankets on the floor. He was a good lover, had learned my body very quickly, and had a big cock that filled me very nicely.

He was also tall, ruggedly handsome, in very good shape, and very smart. That made him both a successful businessman, and a very good conversationalist, although he also knew how to put his tongue to good work without saying a word. All told, he was a very good catch, but didn't seem to want to be caught; he had never mentioned marriage, or even long-term relationships, and I suspected that he got his fill of gorgeous young women who probably tossed their panties in his direction on a regular basis.

I finally decided to call him, even though we hadn't seen each other in months, and had only exchanged the occasional text message during that time. He actually answered his phone on the first ring, which was unusual, since we usually played a bit of telephone tag. When I asked if he was interested in having dinner together one night, he said he would be going out of town the next day for at least a week, but was available this evening.

Without really thinking about what I was doing, I invited him to my place for supper. The last time he had been there, he had ended up spending the night; it had been the first time we had made love. I wondered whether he was now thinking that my invitation to dinner was really an invitation into my bed. I knew it was, but I didn't want to come out and say it to him, lest he think me needy.

After all, a girl's got to have some secrets, doesn't she?

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then he finally came back and accepted my invitation. We agreed on a time, and ended the call. As I put the phone down, I realized that I was flushed, and my pulse was a little rapid.

Before I could turn to the work on my desk, a smile crossed my lips, and I thought, '

Little Nina's going to get fucked tonight, and she deserves it.

' The thought was accompanied by an image of me writhing under him in front of that fireplace, and I felt a strong tremor go through me, in anticipation of having his long, thick, cock sliding into my needy hole.

I did my best to push those thoughts aside for the rest of the day, but I was distracted by the thought of making love to him, and even a few of my co-workers noticed. One of them made a comment in the washroom about me having a heavy date that night, and didn't accept my explanation of '

I'm just having a friend over for dinner

.'

"And what's for dessert?" she asked, with a cocked eyebrow. "A little Nina, served up fresh and wet?" She started laughing, then reached for the hem of my skirt, lifting it a little. "Are we nice and clean, and freshly waxed?" As I pulled back and knocked her hand away, I realized that I did have some stubble, but hadn't had time to shave that morning. I knew I would have to deal with it, and started thinking about the best method.

In the end, I spent my lunch hour getting a wax job, which I don't usually do because it hurts so much, and leaves my pussy a little inflamed. This time, however, it left me feeling even more aroused, mainly because the woman doing it seemed to want to touch me more than usual, and spent a much longer time rubbing in the lotion afterwards. I could tell that she wanted to keep rubbing until I came, but I was in a rush, and was feeling a little uncomfortable with the way she kept looking at me.

The skin on my mound was so sensitive from the waxing that the lace of my panties was annoying me and making me itch; as soon as I got back to the office, I went into the ladies room and took them off, stuffing them into my purse. Being exposed would help with the inflammation, and help to keep me dry, since the woman's fingers and my erotic thoughts were combining to make me a little wet.

Throughout the rest of that day I was reminded of my '

commando

' status, as every time I moved I felt a breeze under my skirt, and every time I sat down I felt the material of the chair under me. I was worried about leaving a wet spot wherever I sat, but didn't really have much choice in the matter. I tried my best to avoid sitting on my skirt, as I didn't want to stain it.

As soon as I could, I left work and raced home, stopping at the grocery store to pick up some chicken breasts and vegetables, and the fixings for a salad. I needed something that would be quick to prepare, and that wouldn't demand a lot of attention, so I could spend most of my time working on him to make sure he spent the night, or at least enough of it to matter.

When he arrived, I took his coat and led him back into the kitchen, then got him a beer while I topped up my glass of wine. We made small talk for a few minutes, catching up, and I took the opportunity to look him over, and remember what he looked like without the black jeans and black shirt that he was wearing.

After I had slid the chicken breasts into the pan, he stepped up behind me, and wrapped his arms around my waist, then leaned down to nuzzle my neck, and to nibble just under my ear. His hands slid up my stomach and came to rest over my breasts, pressing on them firmly, then closing over them to tighten the squeeze. His fingers moved to my hardening nipples, easily locating them through my blouse and bra, then squeezing them quite hard.

I started to say something as the pain in my nipples struck me, surprised by his bold behaviour, but he got much bolder a second later. His arms released my hard nipples and moved back to my waist, then he spun me to face him and picked me up to sit me down on the edge of the counter. His hands moved to my knees, pushing them apart. He moved between them, forcing them wider.

"What are you doing? I've got to look after the chicken."

"Look, we both know why you invited me over, so why don't we get the first one out of the way?" As he spoke, his hands were moving up my thighs, pushing my skirt before them. I had not replaced my panties, and in the next instant I felt his fingers on my mound, rubbing over my slit.

"What do you mean? I invited you for supper..." The words died in a moan as his fingers split my labia, rubbing over my clit, then moving to my entrance. One of them probed at my opening, then slid into me, rubbing along my G-spot as it went in.

"You're awfully wet for just wanting supper." The finger slid back, then a second one joined it and he rammed them back in so quickly that it made me yelp. "And you're nice and smooth...did you shave just for me? Or is this a wax job?" He chuckled as he asked the questions, and I thought his laugh sounded a little cruel.

Even though I was wet, and it made me a little ashamed to know that, he was being a little rough for my liking. As his fingers bottomed out, his thumb pressed firmly on my clit, and started rubbing it back and forth quickly. My eyes closed as my arousal suddenly shot up, even though the way he was treating my pussy and my clit was right on the edge of being painful.

His other hand left my leg and I dimly heard a zipper through my fog. Another moment and he was suddenly closer to me, his fingers pulling out quickly to be replaced by a feeling of intense pressure against my opening. I thought he might be putting a third finger into me when I realized it was his cock. He was going to fuck me, in my kitchen, on the counter!

He no sooner had his cock lined up and started into me when he hunched his hips forward and drove it all the way in. The sudden stretching of my pussy sent a flash of pain through me and I yelled with the feeling, putting a hand on his shoulder to try and slow him down. He took no notice of my protest, and pulled back a little before slamming into me again.

He slid his hands up the outside of my thighs and under my skirt until he could grab my ass. He used that to give himself more leverage, and pulled me closer to him, spreading my thighs wide. His hips started a punishing pace, pulling back then driving forward, slamming into me. He wasn't making love to me, he was fucking me, plain and simple, and more violently than anything I had ever experienced. I had a quick thought that this might be what rape was like, although I was so aroused that I was submitting to him fully.

And I was aroused, even though it had initially hurt, and his attack had surprised me, and scared me a little. There was still an element of fear in the way he was treating me, and I wondered for a moment what the rest of the night would be like. He had said he was just getting the first one out of the way, so he obviously expected more. If they were all going to be this rough, I didn't know if I could take it.

He was hammering against me, grunting with the effort, pushing himself toward his own orgasm, and I didn't think he cared too much about mine. Nevertheless, I was climbing toward that peak, and I knew that I would come if he lasted long enough. My breathing started to get ragged, and deep, but he seemed to be quite calm, other than the grunting noises. I could feel my clit rasping along the top of his cock, buzzing with energy, and my orgasm suddenly hit me with the same force as the battering ram that was his cock.

I put my hands on his shoulders for stability and yelled with the force of the spasms that were hitting me. He never slowed down, forcing his cock against the grasp of my internal muscles, hammering his way into me as if nothing I did could even slow him down.

As my orgasm began to wane, he suddenly moved a hand to my mound and began rubbing my clit harshly with his thumb. His skin on my over-sensitive button almost felt like sandpaper, but it quickly sent me into another orgasm and I yelled again with the force of it. In the middle of it he started coming, making him drive even harder into me as he shot wad after wad of come deeply into me. His breathing finally got deeper with the force of his shots and he ended by holding himself tightly to me as we both came down from our peaks.

That lasted for only a moment as he pulled back, withdrawing his still-stiff cock from me. I grabbed a towel off the counter and slid it up to my dripping pussy, pushing it under me to catch the combined fluids that were running out of me. His next move left me stunned. He lifted me off the counter, then lowered me to the floor, knocking my feet from under me so that I came to rest on my knees.

His wet cock was an inch in front of my face, and his hand tangled in my hair as he pulled me toward it. "Clean me up, then you had better see to supper."

I looked up at him in anger, and opened my mouth to say something nasty when he simply pulled me forward and slipped his cock into my open mouth. His hand in my hair held me in place, and he looked down into my eyes. "Do a good job, now. I like lots of tongue."

I wanted to bite him, and should have, but something held me back. For some unfathomable reason, I started sucking his cock, tasting myself on it, and running my tongue all around it to get all of our combined spending off of it. After a minute or two he pulled my head back, then helped me to my feet and turned me in the direction of the stove.

I couldn't believe the way I was being treated, and after making sure the food was all right, I spun to face him. "Why are you treating me this way? What is wrong with you?"

He was in the midst of pulling his pants back up, but after he had buckled his belt, he left his fly open with his cock sticking out. He smiled at me, then reached out to take one of my hands and place it on his cock. "Don't let go. Keep it nice and hard for later."

My mouth dropped open at the way he was treating me. Stupidly, I kept my hand on his cock and looked at the arrogant smirk on his face. "What the hell do you think this is? What's got into you?"

Instead of answering right away, he started undoing the buttons on my blouse. When I looked from his face to his hands, he finally said, "You were probably thinking back to the trip we took, and you were horny, so you called me. You were expecting to have another romantic evening, and to have sex at some point. I'll bet you wanted me to make love to you, right?"

By this point, all of the buttons on my blouse were undone, and he was pushing it down off my shoulders. He took the hand on his cock and worked the sleeve over it, then put the hand back while he pulled my blouse off of my other hand. I let him do this without protest because I was simply too stunned to accept what was going on.

"Well...yes, that's sort of what I was thinking. I was in the mood for a little sex, and thought of you, so I called you. We had such a good time that weekend, and I thought you might like a decent meal..."

"So, bribe me with food and then use me for sex, correct? Just the sort of thing that women complain that men do all the time—expect sex because the guy shelled out for a nice dinner and a bottle of wine."

I coloured a little at his remark, mainly because what he had said was an accurate summation of what I had been hoping for. "That may be, but why are you treating me this way? I feel like a hooker the way you've used me. You nearly raped me, and now you're taking my clothes off."

"Well now, hookers seldom get to have real orgasms, and you had at least one really good one, I'd say. And you're still mostly dressed. I took your blouse off, but you started out without your panties. I like a woman who isn't wearing much in the way of clothes; they just get in the way."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, right now your bra is getting in the way of me playing with your boobs, so I think it needs to come off." As he finished speaking, he wrapped his arms around me long enough to pop the catch on my bra, then pulled it forward off my breasts and down my arms. Once again he lifted my hand off his cock, then put it back when the bra was gone. I still couldn't figure out why I was letting him treat me this way.

He brought both of his hands up to my breasts, cupping them gently at first, then squeezing them and massaging them quite firmly. I don't usually like to have my breasts mauled, as it reminds me of being in high school and always having to watch out for teenaged hands. I knew that complaining about it wouldn't likely do me any good, so I let him have his way.

He soon switched to pulling on my nipples, and used them to pull me closer to him. As he rolled them a little painfully in his fingers, he said, "You're not doing what I told you. If you can't keep my cock hard with your hand, then I'll put you back on your knees, and you won't get any supper."

I gasped when he said that, but my hand involuntarily tightened its grip, and I felt his cock respond. I started squeezing it rhythmically, and he smiled. "That's it...keep it nice and hard, or you'll have to start sucking it. You're going to suck it later anyway, but I'm willing to let you eat supper first."

"I'm not going to suck..." My words died in the middle of a flash of pain as he clamped his fingers on my nipples and twisted them cruelly.

"You need to understand that you are going to do anything I want as far as your body is concerned. You called me because you wanted to have sex. Well, you're going to have sex—lots of sex. Whether or not you get to enjoy it depends on you. If you do as I say, then you'll get to come—probably quite a few times. But...if you don't do what you're told, then I'll get to have lots of sex, but you won't get to come at all. You'll just be a sperm dump for the rest of the night."

I could feel tears rolling down my face, and the way he was talking to me was scaring the hell out of me. I felt like a little girl being threatened with a spanking...and I wasn't at all sure that this man wouldn't spank me for his own pleasure. I looked up at him through my watery eyes. "Please...please don't hurt me."

He threw back his head and laughed loudly. "I have no intention of hurting you, even if you do think that I just raped you. Rape isn't about sex, it's about power, and rapists usually do hurt their victims. What I did with you was just some energetic sex, and we're just getting started with that. That first one was just a warm-up, but we both had a really good orgasm out of it. Play along and you'll have a few more like that, but don't expect any romance tonight. Tonight is all about fucking; I really enjoyed having you the last time, but that was too much hearts and flowers. What I want from you this time is just good hard fucking, and I think that's what you need as well."

I was still feeling overwhelmed by all of this. I had planned a quiet meal followed by some making out, and ending with a lovemaking session in bed before falling asleep in a man's arms. Instead, I was half-naked, holding a cock in my hand, and had been roughly fucked on the counter in my own kitchen...and this man was promising more of the same for the remainder of the night.

In the next moment I found out how controlling he intended to be as he put his hands on my shoulders and pressed downward. "I told you to keep me hard, and you haven't been working your hand, so now it's your mouth. You've got one minute to get me good and hard or I may have to spank you and send you to bed without supper."

There it was! He had threatened to spank me. I whimpered as I sank to my knees, and he once again grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulling me toward his cock. For the second time, I opened my mouth and felt it slip in, but this time I attacked it with my tongue, determined to not spend the rest of my evening like this. I felt his cock growing in my mouth, filling it, and was almost frightened by both its length and girth. I had not put my mouth near it during our weekend away, and it seemed that I would be making up for that this evening.

He used my hair to move me back and forth on his cock, forcing me to take it deep into my mouth, almost to my throat, then pulling me back until only the head was left. As he bumped into the back of my mouth, I was scared that he would try to drive it into my throat, and I was sure I would gag, or choke. Amazingly, on the next inward stroke it actually did slide into the top of my throat, and I didn't gag. I felt him jerk a little in surprise, and then he pulled me back. I washed the head with my tongue, and he started pulling me back in, although this time it was at a slower pace. I had an inkling that he was going to test my limits.

Sure enough, he slowed down even more as the head of his cock reached the back of my mouth, but he didn't stop. Inexorably, that pointed cylinder kept moving, and I did my best to angle my throat and neck to give it a straight passage. I was certainly scared, but did my best to relax my throat muscles and accept the inevitable. A moment later, my nose was pressed into his pubic hair and I heard him yell out above me. He held my head tightly against his abdomen and I did my best to breathe slowly through my nose. I wiggled my tongue along the underside of his cock, and I heard him yell again, then start to withdraw his cock.