Her Fantasy - Ambush Damn it! She had lost him! Her mind filled with curses, insults she thought she deserved. How had he managed to escape their ambush? They had planned it so well. Agent Ann, Detective Midnight, and herself had planned it down to the last possibility. Half the people in the crowd were undercover, local police, or volunteers who had agreed to help them in their arrest. She hissed into her walkie-talkie, "Agent Ann, Detective Midnight!
Please respond… Where are you? Have you got him?" There was no response, except the buzz of static on the other line.
She had been the least experienced, having only been accepted into the FBI relatively recently, and she had skipped three grades and taken all advanced courses to get where she was now, at only age eighteen.
Agent Ann was an experienced agent, she worked for a government group that was unheard of, and she had always succeeded at her objectives. Detective Midnight had years of experience, he had been a detective for decades, and although he was a little slow in the fights he made up for it with intelligence and strategy.
But his strategy had failed… Somehow they had captured the wrong person, and in doing so alerted the target to their presence. He had taken off, in close pursuit by her partners. She hadn't seen them since. The walkie-talkie buzzed to life, but she wished it hadn't. All she could hear was the faint sound of Agent Ann's screams on the other line.
She stared at the device, unbelieving, terrified at what was happening to her friend. She couldn't move, she wanted to turn it off, but she had to know what was happening.
She could hear Agent Ann's voice, filled with terror and fear, "Please! No! Don't! Please… I beg you… I don't want to die… Oh God… please…" Followed by a sinister chuckle - it had to be him. Agent Ann had never sounded so helpless… and how had the walkie-talkie come on?
Agent Ann must have turned it on… and the begging was a distraction… She could hear Agent Ann's stifled screams - she sounded so terrified, and she concluded that her attacker had covered the agent's mouth. She stood frozen in the street, frightful to hear what would happen but even more scared to turn it off.
There were thumping sounds, the smack of skin on skin. She closed her eyes and, against her will, imagined the rapist on top of Agent Ann, covering her mouth with his lips and fucking her to death.
Agent Ann whimpered pathetically, she heard the rapist's young voice, "Relax… I promise it'll all be over soon." His voice was calm; it was as if he had found peace in killing others. There were more sounds, another whimper, and he chuckled again. "No---!" The woman's screams were cut short again, and the walkie-talkie died.
She dropped it to the ground. She touched her forehead with the back of her hand, and faltered in her steps forward. She stopped moving for a second, and then there was a gunshot. She forgot her fear, her terror. She had to stop him. She forgot reason and logic, not bothering to wait for backup.
She didn't care by now; she just knew she had to stop him before she lost Detective Midnight too! The crowds of citizens were in panic from the sound of the gunshot. She raced across the street, pushing through several people in order to get to where she was going.
She turned down an alley near where she had heard the sound. She saw blood on the ground, and turned the corner. Her blood chilled at the site. She was too late to save Detective Midnight. Agent Ann and Detective Midnight - two extraordinary people she had learned a lot from, were gone.
Detective Midnight at least had some dignity, having only been shot to death. From the looks of it there were at least five gun holes, three in the chest, one in the leg, and one to the head. His brown detective cap, which he had adored so much, lay at his side, stained scarlet by his blood. Agent Ann, however, hadn't died with any dignity. The young woman, from the looks of it, had been shot once - before the young criminal decided to rape her - and then shot again.
She was mostly naked, with torn clothing covering parts of her. Her eyes were closed, calm and composed as she died. Agent Ann had been with her for the past year, helping her to hunt down this person.
It was horrible to see this… so horrible to see such wonderful people, dead. She noticed a thin trail of blood leading out of the alley. Without thinking, she followed it. Her heart was beating out of control, her mind was blank, and the adrenaline kept rising. She didn't know where she was going, or when it would end. She just knew she had to catch him… before he killed again.
She, once again, thought over his exact features again - his hair was raven-feathered black, and long, it reached to his shoulders. His eyes were a powerful, seductive blue, and his face was the most handsome, and gorgeous she had ever seen.
His profile said that he was eighteen, and even his real name and identity were a mystery. She had never been told the name, if anyone knew. They simply referred to him as the 'target'. He was seemingly the perfect man, by looking at his photograph, only his mischievous grin hinted that he was up to no good.
He was a killer, a drug-dealer, rapist and thief. He was a master criminal, and she had been this close to catching him. He had just escaped her planned ambush, receiving only a gunshot wound that had barely injured him. Both of her partners were dead, and she had no idea where she would go from here, or what she would do if she found him again.
All she knew is that she had to hurry, before he got away and disappeared for months, changed his identity, his look… He was a master of stealth and escape. She had been tracking him for a year, but only recently had she even gotten close to finding him. She cut through the crowd, moving quickly, she had to find him. Lives depended on it. She had seen his handiwork, and it never looked pretty. She turned down an alleyway, following the thin trail of blood from the wound she had given him during their earlier fight.
The alleyway was a dead end. She looked up the brick wall, and then down to where the trail ended. A young man came out of the building in front of her. His hair was long blonde hair, and messy. He was wearing a white undershirt. His pants were long jeans, loose. She could see his brightly colored boxers, due to the lowly hanging pants.
The girl turned to him, "Where'd the bastard go!?" She flashed her badge to the teenager, "I'm FBI, you bum. Now tell me where in God's name he is!
Or I'll arrest you for Obstruction of Justice!" The teenager shrugged, "I don't give a fuck about who the hell you are, bitch. I dunno who you're looking for either, but you'd best get out of this part of town.
It's violent here, and a pretty girl like you could get hurt." "I'm not leaving until I find who I'm looking for!" She screamed angrily, losing 'her cool' that she had never had. The teenager looked sympathetic, and he took a step towards her. But before he could reach her she noticed a look of surprise cover his face, followed by a gunshot.
She saw the handsome boy in front of her crumble to the ground. He screamed in pain, and the blood seeped out… it was crimson. It flowed over the clean cobblestones, staining them scarlet.
He looked up to her, his eyes filled with panic and pain. Instantly she turned around - nobody was there. She raced over to the bleeding boy and kneeled down next to him. His breathing was ragged, and through clenched teeth he swore, "Fuck… this hurts." He gasped in pain as more blood oozed out from underneath him, "Ughhh… I think I saw your guy… you're right… he is a… bastard." She whispered urgently, "Where is he? What did he look like, where did he---" An electrical cord slipped under her chin, and yanked back, cutting off her sentence.
She let out soundless screams, tried to get her hands between the cord and her neck, but to no avail. Her attacker pulled harder, pulling up her body against his sturdy chest. She felt soft lips on her neck - a kiss!? - and she struggled more. She twisted and turned, desperately trying to see her attacker. She barely managed to do it.
What she saw stood frozen in her mind. The words kept pulsing through her head - reminding her of her failure. Her one responsibility, destroyed. All she could think as she lost consciousness was: "It's him." ------ A soft, warm hand slid over her cheek, and her eyes fluttered open. Above her was the most handsome boy she had ever seen stood, his features charming with a mischievous twinkle in his crystalline blue eyes.
His hair was coal black, and it reached almost to his shoulders and covered half of his gorgeous, intensely attractive face. She was suddenly consumed by hate as she recognized him. "It's him." She was sure of it. She was filled with a fiery rage, a burning hatred, tainted with a tiny bit of hateful lust. He cleaned a speck of dirt off her face with his thumb. She would have slapped him, or shot him, whichever she could, but her hands were bound together by the same electrical cord he had used to strangle her.
His hand brushed over her cheeks again, the feeling soothing her hate slightly. She turned her face away in disgust, only causing him to curve his wonderfully devilish lips into a roguish grin. He didn't talk; even if he had she wouldn't have responded. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a thin syringe. It was filled halfway with a cloudy, distilled liquid. Her eyes widened with fear, and she tried to move away, but she couldn't move fast enough. Before she could think he was on top of her, and close to her.
Their faces were inches apart, and she could feel his hot breath on her cheeks. He delicately poked the syringe into her neck and injected the liquid. She whimpered, and he softly touched his lips to her neck and kissed her until the pain faded away.
He leaned back from her, just having given enough of himself to her to let her know what it could feel like, and spoke softly, "That should take effect within the next five minutes; you'll be craving me back in here again before you know it." He walked out of the room, closed the door silently, and she heard the click of a lock. She touched her hands to her neck, feeling under her soft blonde curls of hair at the point the needle had entered.
She winced, but the pain was little.
She looked around, searching for any immediate weapon source, or escape route. She was on a bed. It was a nice bed, Queen Size. The room was large, and simply furnished. The ground was patterned tile. To her left was a small nightstand with a bottle of alcohol.
There was a cabinet, closed, and two doors, the one her captor had exited, and one other. She heard a soft snore from next to her, and felt warm breathing on her side. She turned to her side, curious, and slightly nervous.
The boy from the alleyway was sleeping next to her. His chest was bandaged, his hands bound by thin electrical wires, like hers. His clothes and hair was grimy, and he moaned softly and rolled over on his side, his body rested less than six inches from hers. She suddenly felt the need to wake him up. His sleep looked uncomfortable… She pushed on his chest with her body, sideways, in an attempt to wake him up.
He woke up instantly, from her contact with his wound, and swore. She suddenly regretted her decision. "Where the fuck am I?!" His vivid green eyes stared her down.
She thought he looked even hotter when he was angry, his eyes were like green fire, and she had always fallen for the cute and scruffy types. She hadn't noticed earlier, but he looked like he hadn't bathed in a while, his long, blonde hair was partially tangled. His bare feet had a thin coat of grime on the bottom of them. His face, strangely, was unlike the rest of his body.
His face was somewhat-recently shaved, his chin was broad, his nose long, and slightly bent - probably from a fight. His skin was slightly, just barely, tanned. He was slightly muscled, so that his abs were noticeable through the thin layer of cloth that was his undershirt.
His clothes were torn though. His pants and shirt were both covered with holes. His jeans were torn at the knees. "I… I don't know. I've been tracking this guy for a year - I'm FBI - and it seems… he just caught me. And because you were there you get brought along too…" She was a little nervous. It was somewhat her fault this guy had been involved, and now they would probably both die, just like her partners. "Well, what the hell does he want?" He looked at her again, his eyes flashing with anger.
She felt a hint of lust, working away inside her. It was like she felt some days when she was becoming really horny, except she hadn't been horny, not until her captor had injected her with that liquid… Was it a drug…? Oh no… "Well?" He glared at her. ------ She kept staring at him. He waited for a response, but he never received it. He looked into her eyes, they connected - Vivid, bright green to a darker, moss colored green.
She saw sympathy and tenderness in his eyes - followed by a hungry desire that anyone could notice. He saw her fear mostly, and then her drug-induced sex craving, and upon noticing it he desperately wanted to satisfy them both. He could see she looked confused, and despite his better judgment he wanted to use it to his advantage.
From his experience, confused girls were the easiest to take if you moved quickly and tenderly. He didn't know her. He wished he had though, she was hot. Since his girlfriend had broken up with him he had been sex-deprived. Looking at a beautiful girl made him hard; being in the bed with her made him grin playfully and her sexy smile he received back drove him to the edge.
Her hair was a dirty blonde color, and her hair spiraled down in long locks. Her eyes were green, but softer, and darker than his. Her skin was pale, as if she was cold, and he could tell that even though she had been trained, being captured had scared her - she was trembling. Even though they had never met before, he could tell she wanted him. He didn't understand it; she had seemed formal, business-like, not the type to be so easy. Maybe something was wrong, maybe he was just that good, but he wasn't going to turn down this chance.
"So… are you cold…?" They both knew what he was doing, and she played along with it. "Freezing." She wasn't kidding, but it was more of an excuse to get him closer than actually get rid of the cold. "I could sacrifice some of my warmth for you, if you need it." He grinned playfully, she smiled back. She leaned in towards him, waiting to see his next move.
He moved closer to her, so that their bodies touched. Gosh, she was cold! She was trembling, and he soothingly massaged her shoulders alternately with his tied hands. The cord made it extremely hard to do this how he wanted to, but he would manage. The opportunity had seemed too perfect, now he realized if he wanted to seize it he would have to do it handicapped. He paused, "Still cold?" She nodded. He grinned and spoke again, "Maybe I can help with that." It was ridiculous, they both knew he could have come up with a better excuse to get into that position, but this way he could check whether she really, really wanted it.
"Oh. Please, yes." She said, allowing him to get on top of her. She giggled girlishly at his attempts to do so without squashing her. After a couple long moments he managed to climb over on top of her, he kept himself from crushing her by putting one knee on each side of her waist, and he balanced carefully.
He laughed, victorious, and leaned in carefully to her face. He placed a delicate kiss on her nose, and she giggled. He chuckled, his bright green eyes sparkling lightheartedly, "You like that, cutie?" His lips formed into a grin… he liked her. This was easy, way easy. Something had to be wrong, but he didn't care enough to even bother asking her.
She nodded enthusiastically, "Uh huh." He almost laughed. She looked so eager and excited, like a five year old who had just gotten a new Christmas gift. He was pleased he could make her feel so excited so easily, and he planned on doing much more. The playful mood hadn't completely faded away, but it evolved into more passion than playfulness as they progressed.
He kissed her longer, more lovingly, on the lips. Her lips were cool, and the feeling of her coolness on his feverish body made him kiss her again, longer. He put more of his body into it, rhythmically pressing his pants up against her and releasing in a soothing motion. "You like that more?" Their eyes connected, and he didn't even bother to wait for a response.
He knew what she wanted. He kept kissing her, each kiss more passionate and strong than the last, until he was practically crushing his lips onto hers with each connection they made. His rhythm of pressing his pants against her increased, and she noticed the growing bulge in his pants. He didn't know why he said it, but he whispered in between their lip contact, "My name's Matt… Do you like this?" He loved how it was going, almost every aspect of the moment - except that he couldn't touch her with his hands.
He realized that taking off his pants and actually fucking her would be a lot harder than he had hoped for, but he would manage. "I'm… Karen…" she moaned painfully, her desires unquenched by his kisses, "I love it… fuck me… please…" He pushed his body against her harder, and then moved his lower body up to her face, so that the visible lump in his jeans stood in front of her.
She arched her body into him, desperately wishing that the barrier of his jeans was gone and she could let him relieve her. "Gladly, babe.
Just---" Matt stopped, mid sentence, as he was yanked from his position on top of her by his hair. He let out a shocked cry, as he was dragged off the bed, and the girl he had so desperately wanted to fuck. The force with which he had been pulled caused his head to bleed, and his attacker shoved him up against the wall. He slammed Matt's head into the wall and let him fall to form a slumped pile up against the wall. Karen let out a surprised scream too, shocked that she had been 'caught her in the act', that she had been making out with a stranger, and that she wanted to do more than just kiss him.
The young criminal stood in front of her, grimacing. Her partner's rapist spoke, "Looks like you're ready. If you're willing to let that backwash slob fuck you, then letting the man of your darkest dreams make love to you will be a no-brainer.
Karen was confused, very confused. This man, this killer, couldn't possibly be saying what she thought he meant. He spoke again, his voice alluring, "I know your dark fantasies. I know what you've wanted to do since you first glanced at my photograph. I know how you touched yourself every night as you got closer to me, and I'll let it happen exactly how you wanted it to. I'll make love to you, exactly how you wanted.
Word for word." With each word he got closer to her, and she shattered inside. He had done more than just injected her with a drug… How had he known? She had kept her dark secret so well that it wasn't even on a computer.
Not a single soul knew about it… except him. Somehow he must have been watching her, in her bed, in her room. Somehow he must have known what she wanted, what she desired, and her dark cravings she had never expected to come true. She didn't speak, she didn't dare. He pulled out a paper, unfolded it, and read the first paragraph, "He stood in front of me, a masterpiece of the human race, perfect in every way.
His figure was past compare, and he had me now, captured, and he was going to make love to me." He paused, and continued, "He slipped off his shirt, and crawled up next to me on the bed." He knew. This was her writing, her fantasy, and he had it. Her heart skipped a beat; she had pictured this moment so clearly, so descriptively. He did as he had read, "He began touching me, whispering naughty things to me, and kissing me, all ever-so-gently, like I would break if he did anything too hard." He followed the paper, word for word.
His hands left tender and affectionate touches along her sensitive regions he could reach: Her thighs and lower neck. His hands did their work and his lips softly touched to her neck, and moved to her ear. He nibbled on her ear softly, and whispered "You know how this is gonna make you feel. You're gonna be my whore, you're gonna scream my name for me before I take you, and when I do, you'll die for good.
But it'll be good, because your fantasy will have happened. I'll make love to you better than I ever have before, just for you. I'll make this fuck your best one." He went back to kissing her, so softly that she could barely feel his lips.
It was like he was wind, with a body and form. He let the kissing heat up so slowly, just how she had imagined it would. Against her will, she felt herself get wetter, if possible, in preparation for what she had dreamed so badly for. He read the next line, "He took off my clothes, exposing my full beauty for his pleasure.
He kissed me, licked me, and pleasured me, while enjoying it himself." He helped her out of her black jeans and formal clothes, placing tender, loving touches all over her. Everywhere his hands went she felt sparks, electrocuting herself with the anxiety she knew, from her fantasies, she would soon feel. Somehow… she desired him so badly already. It was partially the drug, she knew that. But she wanted him inside her, somehow… But she knew it was far from over.
His tongue slid over her, everywhere. His tongue slid around her vagina lips, only close enough to tease her, but not daring to touch them. If he was going to, he would later. "He carefully took off my bra, and played with my breasts - cupping them, pinching them, and licking them to his heart's content." One of his hands slipped up her shirt from the behind, gracefully gliding over the smooth, pale skin until he reached her bra strap.
He unhooked it with his thumb, and then let himself do as he pleased. He first cupped them with his hands, feeling them, touching them. They were small and fit snugly into his large hands. The feeling of him touching her so much put her into a state of pure glee. He finished cupping them and let his hands wander back to their other business, and he lowered his head to her tits and sucked on them softly.
She couldn't help but moan with the overwhelming pleasure. He suckled on them more and more, letting her enjoy the swelling feelings, he touched her lovingly; letting her grown accustomed to his touch.
She had dreamed of this moment… enjoying the tenderness. But then he changed. He bit into her tits pitilessly, only caring for his enjoyment for a moment.
She screamed, and he laughed and bit into the other one, harder. They were both bleeding instantly, and he licked at the blood. He smirked at her as tears dripped down her face.
It was a dark, dark fantasy that she had desired with every ounce of her soul, a dark fantasy that didn't end well. "He began to pleasure me, to a point I almost screamed. I wanted him in me, he wanted in me too, but he had more control. He wouldn't let me have my way yet." She could see the developing lump in his jeans, and she had no doubt that he was reaching his limits too.
His smile was still calming; it was if he was giving no heed to his body calling for him to give in to the primal instincts already, to have sex with her. He did have control. He had so much control… and she had so little… maybe it wasn't only the drug… maybe she was just weak… Only now did she dare speak, "Please… Please I beg you, please fuck me.
I will be your whore, till the second I die, till the last breath I take. Just please, fuck me!" This was unlike her, but the drastic situation had caused it to happen. How could she respond normally when she had been seduced by a boy she hadn't known even months before she had ever even seen him!?
It was near impossible, and she didn't know how she would get through it, all she could think was that she wanted him, and she wanted him now. The drug… He didn't respond, but continued to touch her all the places she had when she had fantasized every night, to kiss her where she had dreamed he would, and to lick where she had always wanted to be licked.
He was experienced at this, and somehow he knew the tiny, personal flares she had dreamed for. He had to have been watching her; there was no other way he could know exactly what she wanted from him.
"He finally revealed his manhood to me. It was a masterpiece, fitting him. He teased me with it, but didn't do more, not yet." He took off his pants gradually, unhurried by her desires. He unbuckled his belt, dropped it to the floor, and lowered his pants to his feet.
He casually pulled down his checkered boxers, and showed her his manhood, the tool that could give her so much pleasure, and so much pain, if he wanted it to. Eight inches of throbbing, swollen, blood filled flesh stood before her, and she was speechless.
Something so simple controlled her now, but she knew she would have to wait. Her writing had imprisoned her. Her fantasy had locked her up in a contract of desires, and she would have to wait until the time came before she could do everything she wanted. "He lifted me up, cradled me in his arms, and carried me. He brought me to the shower, and it was there that he made love to me." He wrapped his arms around her trembling body, and lifted her.
He held her with her head resting on his shoulder, her flawless, long legs dangling over one arm, and both hands connected at the waist. She groaned, and didn't stop herself from kissing him on the neck as he carried her. He had broken her. She was his. She didn't even know how long it was until he had reached the shower, her ability to tell time, and recognize it was completely gone, overcame by lust.
The shower was see-through, crystal clear. He cut her bindings with a knife, and then set her down inside the shower. He put down the paper on the counter outside, and climbed in. He turned the water on hot, and within seconds the water responded, and steam began to rise.
He looked at her seductively, she didn't even know why. He didn't need to; by this point she was more than willing. He touched her lovingly for a couple seconds, but by now he had reached the limits of his control. He pulled her to him in a tight embrace, nearly all of their bodies touching each other's, and put his lips to her ear again, whispering, "You're going to suck my dick better than you've ever done in your life.
The better you do it the longer you'll live, and if you do it well enough I'll fuck you exactly how you wanted it." She got down on the wet floor, and wrapped her slippery fingers around his prick. She gently touched his balls with her hand, fondling them tenderly for a couple instants.
He let out a gasp of childish delight as she touched them, and then she lowered her mouth to them and gently took one into her mouth. For once she had him completely at her will, and he let out a cry of pleasure as she sucked on them delicately. She played with his balls for a couple more seconds, and then pulled back and studied his dick. It was eight inches of bloated flesh, and two inches thick.
It was too big for her, she knew that immediately. Regardless, she reached out to it, slightly hesitant of touching something that could virtually bend its owner to her will. She touched it.
It throbbed more under her touch, and she delicately lifted it up to her mouth, remembering his exact words, and began to take it in, careful to keep her teeth from touching it.
She tasted it, licking her tongue up and down the long shaft and closing her lips around it, and realized that it didn't taste that bad. Its texture was like a thick sausage, and the taste was like anywhere else on its owner's body, except for a small taste of sweetness.
She pulled back and licked the head of his dick, cleaning off the drop of salty pre-cum on the tip. Touching the tiny slit made him groan again, and he grabbed her hair and forced her to take his cock back into her mouth.
He groaned with severe pleasure at the engulfing warmth her mouth was providing his dick, combined with the pressure that sucking on it was causing. She could only hold a couple of inches of his thick cock in her mouth, and she sucked on it softly at first, but increasingly harder as he started to force more of it into her mouth. She gagged on it as it reached the back of her throat, but she forced herself to take more of it in.
She sucked on it, harder and harder, as she took in inch after inch of his thick, meaty cock. Her tongue wrapped around the shaft again, tighter. He swore with pleasure, and groaned again. She couldn't manage to take it all in, but he didn't stop forcing it in. She gagged again, and choked. He didn't take it out, he wouldn't. He'd rather have her choke to death before taking his hard-on out of the one thing that was soothing it.
"Fuck… this feels so damn good." He finally admitted to the pleasure, but she couldn't respond. He forced more of it in, and she was unable to gag there was so much. It blocked the back of her throat, keeping her from breathing. She had to get him out before he killed her. She knew one thing that would make him take it out, before he suffocated her.
She bit into it. The bite wasn't too hard, but it was enough. He swore again, and yanked out immediately. Although he was still hazy from the blissfulness her mouth was, she knew she wouldn't be forgiven. She had been given one chance, she had to keep him pleased, and she had failed.
He lifted her with his well-muscled arms, till she was standing. He whispered, almost hissed, in her ear - his eyes flickered angrily, "Big mistake, bitch. Now time to have the roughest fuck of your life." He didn't do anything for a moment, his eyes turned soft for a second, and he brushed the back of his hand over her cheek, his eyes twinkled for her.
Then, as quickly as it had come, the tenderness was gone. One of his hands slipped around her wet body to her small, sexy ass. He pinched her ass cheek, and she let out a shocked cry. He began making out with her, crushing his lips painfully into hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth, and he shoved her up against the tile wall, his back facing to the glass door, and outside.
Their tongues battled for a moment in her mouth, hers trying to keep him out, his trying to break in. He won within seconds, and tasted her mouth, before going back to her lips, which he was much fonder of. He didn't stay there long, though. She wished he had. He dropped to his knees and licked her puffy red pussy lips.
He searched around with his tongue around her vagina until he found her clit, and then he proceeded to squeeze it barely, in between his teeth. To her it hurt like hell, and yet was so sexy that she screamed and laughed at the same time, both in pain and in glee. This last thing finally pushed her over the edge, and she had her orgasm.
She began convulsing, and her sex juices flowed out of her in full, emptying her body of fluids. He licked up a small portion of it with his devious tongue, but then moved back up and continued his painful make-out session. Crushing his lips back into hers, her neck, and even moving down to bite her still-bleeding tits again.
She knew that when this was over, if she was still alive, she'd have scars and bruises to remember it all by. He chuckled sinisterly, and then helped align his dick with her vagina.
He teased her with it, brushing it along the lips only just enough for her to feel it. She groaned with all the agonizing delight it was, it hurt but felt so good to her.
Her horniness would just end if he finally fucked her! Then finally, after all of this, he pushed it in. She screamed, just as she had in the nightmares she'd had when he finally fucked her.
It hurt! He was too big for her! But he cared not, and kept pushing harder. Her muscles contracted and expanded at this new presence, and she had a feeling of wholeness run through her. It was so right and yet so wrong. He didn't belong in her, but the drug combined with her desperate need for someone to finally fuck her gave her no choice: she couldn't stop him.
He pushed until their bodies connected. But he didn't stop there. He wrenched it out and thrust back in repeatedly, not moving slowly or caring for how it affected her. Her muscles squeezed his dick tightly, trying to force him to cum, to release his sperm in her. But he knew that would leave him exhausted, and he wanted to enjoy this before killing her.
He pushed and pulled rapidly, laughing with hellish amusement at her agony while also enjoying the comfort and thrill that came with each time he fucked someone that was too helpless to stop him. He kept it up, regardless of her screams or pleas for him to stop.
He fucked her long and hard, not wanting to be gentle or soft to her anymore. He had given her too much of that, he had been too soft to her. Perhaps it was her beauty that had made him go easy on her, but that was no more. He slammed into her, again and again. After ten long minutes of his hard fuck, she had become noticeably weaker. She stopped fighting him, her struggles and screams became less, and she gave in to him.
Karen stumbled, groaned in agony, and fell backwards against the wall. He gripped her with his broad hands on either shoulder, and shoved her up against the wall in order to brace her.
He laughed, kissed her softly on the lips one last time, and began pounding his cock into her with excruciating, rapid thrusts. After ten more minutes of relentlessly fucking her, resisting his urge to cum, to see how it would end, he reached what he wanted.
Her eyes faded to a murky color, she had lost her voice screaming, and she couldn't speak anymore. She couldn't move. She was so weak she couldn't breathe. Her body fell limp forward, onto him.
He held her slender, light frame against his, running one hand up along her neck. He felt her neck for a pulse, pulled her harder against him and listened for a breath - there was none.
He played with her for a couple more seconds, grinding his dick into her again, and withdrawing slowly. He caressed her with his lips and sensational hands, over her tits and neck.
He casually let one of his broad hands slide down, along her back, over her waist, to rest on the petite ass he loved so much. He brushed his fingertips along her butt crack, over each cheek lovingly.
He petted them, and massaged them fondly. Suddenly his hand gripped her ass tightly, squeezing it hard - digging his fingernails into the flesh enough to leave marks - looking for any reaction. Seeing none, he tightened his grip on her adorably cute ass, and applied a small amount of pressure to it from the behind, helping to ease his cock in all the way to the base.
He stopped pushing when their bodies were connected, up to the base of his shaft. Her love tunnel didn't contract or expand, didn't try to force the cum out of him like it had minutes before. His other hand wrapped around her back and up along her neck, which was lying limp on his shoulder. Only now, smirking with a cruel, grim satisfaction that only he could understand, he released his load in her.
The load was huge: He shot his hot white seed five times into her water-drenched pussy. He groaned, filled with comfort by the release, and relaxed as he finished. The cum flowed out of her unresponsive organ onto the ground, where it was washed away by the water.
His penis slowly deflated inside of her, finally done tormenting her. He turned off the shower, softly kissed the unmoving girl he held in his arms, on her neck, her pale lips, her bloody tits, and lastly, her forehead. Then finally he let her limp body crumble to the floor, as if she was a broken toy he was done playing with.
He reached for his towel, stepped over the corpse, and climbed out of the shower. He dried his long, silky black hair, his wonderfully handsome face, his muscular chest.
He cleaned his penis of Karen's sex juices, dried his waist, legs, feet. He took a piss in the toilet, brushed his hand through his luxurious black hair, wiping it from his eyes.
He chuckled again at how much he had enjoyed it all, up until the last moment. Then he remembered something: he'd have to kill the teenager he had tied up too; he couldn't leave a witness behind. He wrapped the towel around his waist, grabbed the knife, walked down the corridor. He decided he'd just stab the boy to death - that would be easiest. He wouldn't bother cleaning either body up, he would be gone before anyone found the place.
He opened the door into that room, and he didn't have any time to respond before a half empty alcohol bottle hit him directly in the forehead. He collapsed to the floor with his crystalline eyes open, he hadn't suspected a thing. He dropped the knife before he hit the ground, and it clattered across the floor to rest at Matt's feet. Matt picked up the knife and held it in his hands, nervous. He had found the bottle on the side table, and he hadn't believed that throwing it would work, but it had!
The young man who had captured him didn't move. His body was relaxed on the floor, his limbs outspread in a tangle, with his towel undone and showing his limp penis.
His head was bleeding, but most of the bleeding was covered by his silken black hair, which was now stained crimson. The strong liquor in the bottle had spilled all over his face, hair, and chest. His eyes didn't move, they were frozen open, staring at Matt.
He was dead. Matt stepped over the naked corpse, and walked down the corridor and into the bathroom. He saw through the clear shower on the ground, Karen's limp body. He went over to it, got down next to her, and cried. He was too late, and although he had killed her murderer… he hadn't saved what mattered most of all.
There was a small piece of paper on the ground next to the body, he picked it up and read it: It was the same thing that he had heard the other guy saying to her as he played with her… He recognized the words Karen's tormenter had said, and also made the connection between the paper and what had actually happened.
Hmm… that was odd. There were a few more sentences, but he couldn't quite make it out. He held it under the light, lifted it closer, and turned it at a slight angle so he could see it. Now he read the last sentences of Karen's Fantasy: "As he fucked me, I slowly weakened… I was weak, very weak - so weak that my body became limp and I collapsed against him. I wished he hadn't ever been the villain.
I wished he had loved me. I wish I knew what love was. …But I never would find that, because in the shower where he fucked me is where I died." Matt stared at the paper, unbelieving that she had written about her own death, and then proceeded to do CPR on Karen, regardless of the odds. He didn't know whether it would work or not. But he was driven by something more powerful than death. He had to save her. He had to show her what love felt like.
Questions, comments, concerns? ***Please do not post pointless comments such as "Stupid" unless you have a reason to go along with such a comment.