Lena hummed tunelessly to herself as she put away her groceries. Her voluptuously curvy figure, kept in check by four sessions of yoga a week and strict adherence to a healthy diet, was cased in snug denim and a soft knit sweater. Lena tried to keep her kitchen stocked with only healthy foods—whole grains, fruits and veggies, Clif bars. She knew that if she let herself snack on processed food, her toned waist would gradually expand and soften, and she refused to let that happen. She was too proud of her figure to fail—she took pride in the fact that her rounded ass and hips tapered sharply into a narrow waist and ribcage, then swelled out again to form her generous, D-cup breasts. She was short, with strong, slimly muscled legs and narrow feet that she loved to strap into sky-high heels. Other short women felt cheated by their lack of stature; Lena gloried in it. She loved to feel delicate and small. She kept her riotously curly hair long and had a standing appointment every two months to amp up her natural red color. As she meticulously shelved her dry goods and washed her fruit, her reflection was caught perfectly in the panes of glass above the sink. Her eyes, not quite traditionally beautiful, were the color of honey and luxuriously lashed. Her pale skin was dotted with freckles across the bridge of her nose and her cheekbones, and her rounded chin was a perfect frame for her bottom-heavy lips. Lena lived alone, in a house in the suburbs. She had recently moved to the neighborhood from an apartment in the city—she'd felt it was time to plant some roots. It was a new subdivision, so she hadn't any neighbors yet. The house next door on one side stood empty; the other side was still an empty lot. Her small, two-bedroom house felt perfect to her.
After putting away her groceries and showering, Lena rolled out her mat in the living room and performed the hour of yoga that kept her so toned. After a relaxing session, she slipped into a pair of sleep shorts—pale yellow, with lace trim—and a matching camisole. She climbed into her bed, an antique that dwarfed her small frame, and burrowed beneath the fluffy down comforter. Dropping into sleep almost immediately, Lena never heard the quite cracking sound of broken glass that shattered in her laundry room, across the house. She also didn't hear the snick of the back door being unlocked from through the glass, or the footsteps that crept across the house, straight for her bedroom. A habitually deep sleeper, Lena did not wake when the intruder stood in her doorway, frame by the soft glow of a nightlight in the hall. He was a substantial man, nearly filling the doorway. He walked toward her, more stealthily now, and watched her sleep. Her soft breathing filled the air as he slowly pulled a rope from the small black bag slung over his shoulder.
***
After he'd arranged everything just the way he liked it, the intruder admired his handiwork. Lena's full breasts were prominently on display, and he couldn't resist. He cupped the firm globes, massaging and squeezing gently, so as not to wake her yet. Lena's nipples hardened in a rush, and she shifted restlessly on the bed. He continued his touching, beginning to focus more directly on her nipples, rubbing and tweaking them. He leaned down and lightly licked the very tip of one, then the other. He blew on them, and they hardened even more, darkening until he could see their flush even in the dim room. He very slowly took one in his mouth, and sucked gently. He didn't want to wake her until the time was exactly right. His sucking caused Lena to moan softly and arch her back in her sleep. He alternated breasts until she was moaning almost continuously, and he could smell her dampening pussy. Fully dressed, he settled further onto the bed, and spread her thighs. Her pussy was sopping wet, practically dripping onto the sheets. He admired the neatly trimmed red landing strip before taking a taste for himself; her moans reached even higher in pitch. He couldn't believe that she hadn't woken up yet—he knew she slept soundly, since he'd been watching her house for weeks, but this was ridiculous. Deciding it was finally time to wake her, the intruder cupped one of her breasts, his thumb and forefinger lightly framing her nipple. He simultaneously shoved two fingers deep into her soaked pussy and pinched, hard, on her nipple.
Lena came awake gasping, the edges of an incredibly arousing dream vanishing in moments. She saw the man's huge silhouette looming above her, felt his fingers on her and inside her, and she began to fight. She screamed, jerking her arms and kicking her legs. While she slept so deeply, this stranger had tied her hands together to the headboard, and he was settled so firmly between her thighs that Lena's kicking had no effect. The more she fought, the deeper his fingers sank into her, until she realized that he was actively thrusting in and out of her, easily overpowering her struggles.
"There's no one to hear you—scream all you want," he said in a gravelly voice. Lena stopped screaming, and started shouting.
"No!" she shrieked. "Get off me. What are you doing?!"
"Isn't it obvious?" The man chuckled, fumbling with his zipper. "I'm about to fuck your brains out."
"Nooo," Lena moaned, trying to ignore the wetness coursing from her pussy. "Stop, please. You can have anything you want, just please leave me alone."
"Unlucky for you. All I want is this dripping cunt and the body that comes with it." Lena squirmed under her captor, trying futilely to escape. "And don't pretend you don't want it," he added, pulling his cock out of his pants. "You're a fucking lake, and your nipples are stiff as pokers." He rubbed the head of his dick in her soaked cunt.
"Stop," Lena whispered, but her body had betrayed her. It rubbed instinctively against his dick, arching toward what it so badly wanted.
