Every freak thunderstorm.6

The man played with my body with his fingers, with his tongue. With his bare skin on mine. Despite my initial disinterest, my body eventually began to warm up to him with his persistent efforts. He dragged his leaking and excited member across my sensitive private parts, making me shiver and tremble, flinch and jerk. He played me like a musical instrument, getting to know where my buttons and places of harmonic resonance were, until he could raise me up and keep me hovering, fluterring on the edge of a precipice. I didn't know what was down there at the bottom of the precipice, or up there in the sky, or on the other side of the cliff, depending upon how you looked at it. Whichever way, after a taste of what it was like to achieve release, he brought me back up and teased my body until I was almost frantic with frustration.

"This," he kissed me, "is what it feels like to be played by a scumbag who won't take responsibility. Now, you know. How can you not take responsibility for what you started?"

"I can't. I can't. I'm scared. Please stop. Don't make me," I begged, sobbing.

"Meaning, you would like to consent, but you are too scared. Then let's have the drunk you take back over to get things done," the man smirked, wiping my nose and grabbing a tissue to let me blow my nose. "She's not scared."

"No way! She's a maniac," I protested.

The man mixed a drink and lifted my head, bringing the cup to my lips.

"No," I tried to turn my head.

"Then come and let me do it. Look. Your body is ready. I can fit three or four fingers in there now," he said putting in fingers to stretch me open. I moaned and arched. He put the cup back down. "All you need is to agree. Say 'yes'. Ask me to fill you."

"No!" I cried.

"Does it feel good?"

I had forgotten how to speak. All I could do was moan.

"It does, doesn't it? Then would you like more?"

I moaned again.

"That's consent. Then let's bring the drunk you back out."

"No!" I refused, but the sensational pleasure, was making me waver.

Drunk me took advantage of my unstable emotions and grabbed the drink, chugging it down. With that, she was back in control.

"Sober me is such a bore," drunk me rolled her eyes. "I told you that you don't need to talk to her."

"Tell me why she's so scared."

"Oh. She's just scared of the pain, the embarrassment, the aftermath. She's scared of everything, poor dear," drunk me snickered. "She's scared of getting pregnant, the consequences, how to face herself afterwards. Whether her relationship with you will change for the better or worse. She's scared she's betraying herself. Most of all, she's scared you'll kill her once you're done playing with her."

"Oh. And you aren't scared of me killing you after getting your body and taking what I want?" the man asked, positioning my body in preparation to perform the deed.

"Well, I am," drunk me confessed. "A bit. But you're so handsome and good looking. You wouldn't do that, would you?"

It made me want to slap myself in the face and face palm. How naïve was my drunk self?

The man laughed and kissed me some more.

"Little girl, drunk or not, you are so cute and beautiful like this. There is no way I won't be coming to visit my wife regularly in the future."

"Wife? Did you just skip over dating as boyfriend and girlfriend, and engagement directly to the wedding?"

"Yep. I've already decided. You're going to be my wife. Personality disorder or not. Your reactions are just too delicious, drunk or sober."

"Then hurry up and get on with it," I puffed a sweaty strand of hair out of my face, reached down and helped him find the right spot.

"After this, consider yourself married. Little girl, you will always be my woman."

And he plunged in without any gentleness, preparation or forewarning. It was the first time in and he didn't seem to care. He just thrust in and hammered away, making me scream in fear and pain.

He held my arms down, forcing me to lie helplessly with my legs over his shoulders while he rammed deep. The force and surprise of it all made my muscles flicker and tighten around him, making him smile ferociously and grunt deeply.

I fought against him but he seemed to enjoy overpowering my struggles and resistance. After what seemed like an age, he emptied himself inside and I sighed with relief that it was over, although I was also concerned. Would I get pregnant?

"You think that's it, little girl? Who asked you to let the wolf in?" he whispered in my ear, easily swivelling me around into a new position. "I told you that you were mine. You're going to have to learn fast. I'm a hard taskmaster. Come, call me Daddy. Call me Master. Why aren't you calling me those names now?"

Sadist. He was a sadist, taking delight in my humiliation and pain.

Drunk me was bewildered. She had not expected this turn of events. She had expected something delightfully pleasurable, gentle and sweet. Sober me was horrified and overwhelmed. Drunk me had obviously not been exposed enough to the dark side of the world. Idiot. I told her she was being stupid and impulsive. This would teach her not to be so innocent and superficial in the future.

Sober me couldn't cope. She was in the process of a nervous breakdown and falling apart, leaving drunk me as the only one present and able to take the reins. Drunk me was confused, fumbling, trying to understand what had happened what had gone wrong. Drunk me with her slowed and delayed reactions, had to work hard to catch up. She still wanted to please this big prick in order to try and maintain her pride. Idiot. She was such a big idiot. Somehow, eventually, she managed to find the right rhythm, greatly pleasing the intruder.

She did all she could in her desperation to please our torturer and get this finished sooner rather than later. Feeling exhausted, she lay beneath him spent and steamrolled by the man's greater endurance and strength, unable to move anymore while he smiled teasingly at her, caressing her with a gentle hand. He didn't say anything, but his silent satisfaction spoke volumes.

Picking her up, he carried her into the bathroom where he tenderly washed the both of them in the shower, telling her that he would introduce her to the joys of the shower another time. Later, he put her to bed while he went to clean up the mess they had made on the couch. Too exhausted to move, drunk me had quickly fallen asleep while sober me was left panicking and fretting over how I was going to survive the next few days. Sober me wanted to knock herself unconscious but didn't know how. She wanted to sleep too, but kept jolting awake again with a whimper.

Noticing how tightly strung and nervous I was, the man hugged and patted me to sleep, humming a pleasant melody until my eyes began to droop. He seemed to realise just how traumatised I felt and didn't do much more. Somehow, I did eventually fall asleep properly, all the while trying to think and plan how I would make my escape.

I dreamed of the intruder taking me in my bed in a very gentle manner. Nothing like the ruthless and inconsiderate style with which he had introduced me to the adult world. This time, he touched and made sure my body received as much enjoyment from it as him, taking time to patiently make sure...

I woke up with a start and flinched back, discovering that he was indeed inside me. Feeling me wake up, he sped up and finished inside me with I gasped with both pleasure and terror.

"Good girl," he stroked my back, wiping my tears, spooning me and seeking entry again. "Look how well you can take me inside yourself now. You're mine now. Mine. I've been holding back and waiting for this for years. Now I've finally got you, you're so delicious that I can't seem to stop."

I could only vocalise a coarse groan as he began again, holding me tight.

The doorbell went off, causing him to pause and me to freeze. Who would dare to come out in this kind of weather? The storm was still billowing, sheeting and booming around the house.

"You stay here," the man tapped my nose, getting up to pull on some clothes. "I'll go see who it is."

He left the room and I heard the sound of the front door being unlocked, causing a blast of cold humid air to breathe through the house with an invasive snort. The doors all banged on their hinges and the windows rattled harder.

Wrapping the blanket around me, I took this opportunity while he was distracted to slip out of bed, wrapped in a sheet to hurry to the laundry, locking the laundry door against him to slow him down and then unlocking the back door.

I ran out into the wind and rain and was promptly blown off my feet by a gust of wind. A drenched and uniformed arm caught me before I could be blown away.

As expected, my police contact was there, waiting for me. She gave me a nod and hugged me tight, pulling me to follow her and her partner while the other two of their team distracted the man at the front door.

They led me to climb the back fence where they already had a ladder waiting for me, and helped me up and over. We ran through the side gate of that house's garden, catching sight of the house owner watching us through the window with a nod. My legs weren't working properly and I kept nearly falling over. The pain and discomfort of having been rudely handled last night made my legs feel wobbly and soft.

My police contact had to keep stabilising me and helping me fight against the wind that wanted to blow me and my bedsheets away. A police car was parked on the edge of the street and we fought through the wind and rain. Lightning flashes and thunder boomed. The clouds seemed to roll in seething froth.

And then he was there, stepping in front of us to block our way to the police cars with a small smile. It was the first time I saw his face properly and I paused.

His face was so familiar. I had seen it many times. Many, many times. I should know him. Who was he again?

The storm didn't seem to buffet him as it did us. The police held me tight and we stared at him while he stared at us. At this distance, even if we shouted, the storm would carry the sound away. We wouldn't be able to see each other.

The police partners who were holding onto me were trembling. When I glanced up through the sheeting rain to look at my protectors, I saw not just fear, but terror on their faces. Shock. Disbelief. They knew him. Knew him well, by the looks of things.

My police contact hugged me to her a little harder while her partner, a man, subtly stepped in front of us. He patted my police contact and me without taking his eyes off the man.

He stepped forwards and my police contact pulled me into an all out run that I couldn't keep up with. I kept tripping. The wind tore my bedsheets from my grasp to cover the windows of the neighbour's house, preventing them from watching any further. My police contact turned back to help me up but then froze.

Stiffly, she turned her head to find the man already standing behind her and then screamed before she was knocked out. The man gave me an amused and disappointed look and pointed at me, his mouth seeming to order me to 'stay here'.

I hugged the unconscious police woman while he stepped through the storm to return to where the police car was. He somehow drove it over to us where he manhandled the unconscious bodies of the police officers into the car and put me in the front seat. We drove back to my little house and parked behind the other police car that was there.