Cherished Girl Ch. 03

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The captured girl redeems her captor.
4.7k words
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Part 3 of the 3 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 05/24/2017
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Applause thundered everywhere as the actors and actresses took their bows. No sooner had "The King and I" let out, the opulent Ritterdorf Theater became a bustle of murmurs and swishing garments. A tall, elegant brunette wearing a black ruffle bandeau dress stood out in the crowd. Her ruby earrings sparkled in the warm, flattering light of the chandeliers above. Slender yet curved, with rich brown eyes and luxuriant long hair sweeping to the tops of her breasts, the feminine figure caught more than a few glances from envious females—and hungry males. The strapless dress showed off the young woman's shoulders, and the cleavage...well, the dress left little to the imagination.

Carissa felt like the center of attention as Anders' hand grasped hers tightly.

"Come, darling. We go now."

"But I have to use the restroom," she protested. In response, his grip only hardened as he led the two of them through the post-performance jumble of theater-goers, making a beeline for the rear exit. As soon as he pushed open the door, she could feel half the tension drain out of his body. He looked both ways, then ushered them across the street, towards the parking garage.

Carissa's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Did you hear me? I have to pee. I can't wait until we get home."

Gruffly, Anders replied, "You'll just have to hold it." Moments later, he had whisked her into the parking garage and up two flights of stairs to his silver sedan.

Carissa looked up at her captor. She wondered what he was thinking just now. It had been two weeks since Carissa had made her breakthrough with Anders. Their new agreement had been simple: Anders would take her out on 'dates.' He would even buy her clothes, whatever she wished. In return, she promised not to run from him AND she promised to always be naked whenever he was at home.

From the standpoint of a sex-slave captive, which is what Carissa had been at first...she could have done worse. Her decision to not give up on the twisted man who was Anders, this handsome, contradictory, and disturbed Frenchman, was paying off. Or was it?

This had been their sixth outing in the past two weeks. The performances he took her to were always lovely. To actually be able to go out, even if it required him always at her elbow, that made a huge difference to her sanity. But there was just one problem. Him. Anders was still as vigilant as a sentry on guard duty every time they went anywhere.

He was always so on edge! Carissa had hoped that she could coax out the romantic in him, free him from the chains of this hyper-paranoia and jealousy that had compelled him to take her captive in the first place. That still compelled him to keep her as his virtual prisoner, even though he claimed to love her. He DID love her, in his own very demented way...but Carissa couldn't leave it at that...not if she was going to retain her sanity or make any progress.

Now the 22-year-old woman got in the car, crossing her legs as she heard Anders work the clutch. The car sped down the ramp and onto the streets of Berlin. A drizzle started, obscuring the window as she tried to look out.

"Anders..."

"Yes, Mein Schatz?" She was about to insist that they stop somewhere. She really did have to pee! He needed to get over his paranoia.

"Why do you call me that?"

He raised an eyebrow at her as he turned the wheel. In no time they would be on the highway. She realized that he was driving more aggressively than usual.

"Mein Schatz? It means 'my treasure,' in German."

"I know WHAT it means. I asked why," the young woman replied. "I mean, you're FRENCH." When he didn't respond to her expectant look, she sighed.

He chuckled at her exasperation. Anders' blue-gray eyes crinkled with a trace of good humor. "Because I am a Frenchman, it means I can be nothing else?" He gestured at the city of Berlin, buildings of concrete and steel cast in the eerie light of the full moon despite the pitter-pattering drizzle. "I have lived in this city for nearly ten years. France will always be my home, but I have made a conscious choice to become more German. It is important to be adaptable—to not let the past define you."

'If that's true, then why can't you change?! Why can't you become the good man that I love, and not this creepy control-freak?!' she all but wanted to shout at him. Still seething, still needing to pee badly, she threw up her arms.

"Anders, this has to stop."

The rugged face turned toward her. His sharply chiseled nose and high cheekbones gave him a Viking-like look in the half-light. "What has to stop?"

"This." She gestured between them. "You can't be so protective and paranoid that you don't let me use the restroom when I have to go in public."

"Letting you go out with me was part of our new deal. There was no specifying bathroom privileges. I dislike crowds AND what's more, I dislike strangers ogling my woman." He threw a dark glance out the window, as if the entire male population of Berlin were his enemy. Carissa would have laughed if the situation weren't so dire.

"Anders, I wasn't kidding. I really, really need to pee." Soon enough, he found a rest stop and pulled to the side. Technically it was closed, but there was no one about this late. No one stopped him when he broke the door open.

"In you go," he murmured.

Carissa gratefully took care of business. The rest area bathroom was the very essence of stereotypical German cleanliness. In fact, it was so spotless, Carissa almost smiled. She was just turning around after washing her hands and cleaning up at the sink when suddenly Anders was right there, looming over her.

"What—?"

She didn't have time to react. Anders was already unzipping her dress and savagely yanking it off of her.

"Anders, wait!" Despite her protests, he continued to disrobe her, one article of clothing at a time, until she stood butt naked in the bathroom. She fought the faint urge to cover her breasts.

"Anders, someone might come in!"

Her boyfriend-cum-captor gave her a dark, probing look. "They will not. The door is barred." She leaned over and looked around him to see something wedged underneath the door.

"Um, what are you doing?" she whispered. He was close now. Too close. He towered over her, his eyes intently on hers.

"I am showing you how I feel. How crazy it makes me, having you in public where men can salivate over you. Men who make me want to crush skulls and pierce eye sockets. These men...I want to KILL them when I see the way they look at you, when I imagine the thoughts which must be going through their minds. They are thinking of you naked, they are envisioning what it would be like to fuck you, subconsciously if nothing else."

Carissa began to scoff, but he put a finger to her lips as his other hand cupped her perfectly sculpted ass. "No, darling. Don't tell me otherwise. I know the minds of men. I am one. It is not a clean mind. It is filthy." He unbuckled his belt and kicked off his shoes, socks, pants, and underwear in what seemed like the fraction of the time it would take a normal person to do so.

"Spread your legs and face the mirror," he ordered. Carissa gasped. Was he serious? As he shrugged out of his shirt to become as naked as her, she realized that he was.

"I'm not having sex with you in a public restroom," she began to protest. But even as the words escaped her lips, he swiveled her around. His hands cupped her breasts from behind as she felt his thick, elongated cock pressed above her tailbone. Her hands gripped the sink as she became fully aware of his masculine scent. The heat of his body. His hands gently tweaking her nipples as he kissed up the side of her neck.

"My beautiful Carissa, let me be clear. You are MINE. Seeing all these men ogle you tonight, it makes me very angry. The only thing that can sate that anger is YOU. Closeness to YOU. I could not wait to get home to make love to you. Do you understand? This urge in me...it is beyond strong. It is iron law. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you, but..."

Carissa couldn't finish her sentence. Anders' hand had already clamped over her mouth. "No more arguing, you sexy little cunt. I have you naked and I mean to fuck you right here. Does that turn you on?" His hand left her mouth. Her breath came out in little rasps as she watched that big, strong hand glide down to her shaved sex. He gently stroked her clit, rubbing his one finger in delicious, tantalizing, maddeningly cruel circles around her joy nub. Her breathing hitched as he continued to touch her. He showed her so much care, just standing there and caressing her most intimate place for what seemed like hours...

The brunette's head slumped forward. She closed her eyes. Focused on Anders' touch. Her breathing became faster, joining her quickening heart rate, as she felt his sole finger joined by a second finger, both stroking her clitoris and gently dipping into her silken folds. He kept rubbing her until a modest but significant trace of wetness coated his fingers. And all the while, he nipped at the nape of her neck. He trailed kisses along her shoulder. It was amazing how he could be so rough one instant, and then suddenly so gentle the next. Carissa marveled at this man she couldn't understand. But she felt his care, and that made all the difference. It changed him from a monster to what he was: a disturbed, fallible, but could it be—redeemable?—human being.

"Ohhh babe." She sighed as his fingers began stroking her sex faster. She threw her crotch forward a little, helping impale her snatch on his stabbing fingers. She felt his smile as his lips pressed against her cheek.

"You called me 'babe.' You hardly ever do that, you horny little slut...but you do it more and more often. I notice these things. It turns me on." As he said this, the Frenchman reached his other hand around, fondling the girl's supple cones even as his lower hand upped the tempo of his clit-caressing attack. The lithe girl was practically humping his hand now. Her little pussy was bucking into his hand, into his touch. She felt a slick warmth trickling from her opening. Oh god...the bastard was going to make her come right here in a public restroom.

It felt so wrong to the young woman, but Anders' need was like a drug she'd been injected with too, a plague she'd caught too...and there was no going back. She bit her lip, stifling a moan as he plunged his fingers deep into her cunt, finger-fucking her with savage strokes. Meanwhile his other hand was roving over her aching breasts, pinching her nipples with teasing, agonizing glee until those same nipples had pebbled up in full arousal.

"Do you want me to fuck you now, Carissa?"

"Uhh!" Carissa tried not to reveal the full extent of the lust now surging in her veins. She didn't want to be fucked. She wanted to be fucked raw...like an animal. She wanted a hard pounding that would make her teeth rattle. There it was, perhaps it wasn't the most ladylike sentiment, but right now Carissa's thrumming sex had control of her mind, and it demanded one thing: cock.

"You answer me, little cunt." Anders gently squeezed her nerve bundle at just the right angle, with just the right pressure. It sent her over the edge. Carissa groaned as Anders clamped a hand over her mouth in case she squealed too loudly. Her cunt convulsed on his fingers until they dripped with her cunt cream. Her feminine body felt wave after wave of spasms until her legs turned to jelly. All the while she humped his fingers pressed inside her cunt even as her body shuddered uncontrollably. Finally, after time had lost all meaning to Carissa, the beautiful young woman leaned over the sink, breathing heavily.

Her fluids leaked between her legs, making the fingers and knuckles of his hand glisten. That hand was completely drenched in her scent, in her pussy juice.

"Oh god," she sighed. "I can't believe you," she huffed. "This is so—" She was about to say wrong, but Carissa never had the chance. Suddenly she felt the fullness of his cock-head prodding between her cunt lips. The bulbous head of his penis abruptly and violently plunged into her happily sated snatch. Her silken glove welcomed his stabbing shaft like a savior. She moaned as the Frenchman's entire cock slammed into her from behind, filling her in the most complete way she'd ever been filled.

"UHH!! You were saying, darling?"

It was hard to speak coherently while being stuffed full of cock, but Carissa tried. "Ahhh...I can't believe we're doing this here," she moaned. "This is sick."

"No, my beautiful girl. This is love." So saying, Anders began to fuck her with a passion she'd never known before. She gripped the sink, watching herself in the mirror. The slender 22-year-old girl watched as her breasts shook with the savage series of Anders' fucks, one after the next, brutal and rough and completely claiming her pussy as HIS. Anders' message was clear enough each time he swept forward with another thrust, his testicles jostling against the backs of her thighs. Each time he fucked her, she let out another raspy breath. One of Anders' arms had wrapped around her torso, and that hand now gripped her by the neck as they fucked. His other hand clung to her right hip, yanking her body back towards him with each fervent penetration.

She'd never been fucked like this. Never.

"UHH! Ohhh!" she moaned.

"Be quiet, you sexy little whore. You want someone to hear us?" he growled, clearly teasing her. They were at a secluded rest area. No one would come. No one would hear them, as long as Carissa could keep from screaming out in orgasm. But what if someone did?

The forbidden thought sent a fresh surge of libido racing through Carissa's loins. Her cunt squeezed Anders' shaft as he plowed into her. The sounds of their bodies smacking together echoed in the bathroom. She held onto the sink for dear life as he fucked her like a beast. His long, rigid shaft penetrated her again and again and again, until his grip on her neck had tightened and her raspy breathes were pathetic wheezes. Soon she wouldn't be able to breathe, and yet there was a cloud of pleasure that was now fogging up her brain.

She was having this out-of-body experience at the same time. She looked at herself in the mirror—her slender, naked femininity pounded by this brute of a man. Was this really her? Could this be the same college-educated woman who had started off on a European trip weeks ago? How had she been reduced to this?

Yet as Anders' cock lanced deep into her sex, fucking her again and again, the strangest emotion took control of Carissa's heart. He was whispering in her ear as he fucked her now. Tender words. Words of care. It was so, so unlike this brutal, paranoid man.

"Carissa, you have my heart," he murmured. "I love you more than any other woman, than any other person I've ever known. You are not just my treasure. You are my most PRECIOUS treasure. You understand, darling? Do you?" He sighed each time his cock found itself encased in her damp heat. She groaned, her cunt clenching up around his shaft and milking his balls toward release.

"Fuck me, Anders. Fuck me," she growled all of the sudden. Abruptly she felt a surge of libido that, like a rogue wave, threatened to destroy everything in its path. "I love you too, Anders. I love you with all my heart and all my soul. Now shut up and FUCK me," she almost yelled.

Now she was being too loud. Anders' hand clamped over her mouth again.

"I'll fuck you, baby. SSSHHH." He upped the deepness of his strokes, if that were possible, until his shaft was sliding all the way out and then ramming violently into her snatch, until the sheath of her pussy had no choice but to fully encase his throbbing dick. It wasn't long now. She felt it. She knew it. The sexy brunette moaned with Anders' hand still clamped firmly over her mouth. He didn't trust her now. She'd been too loud.

Then it happened. Anders' hips flew forward again. His cock embedded itself so deep inside her snug, silky-soft snatch. Her pussy welcomed his cock, gripping it like a tight, velvety glove as he erupted deep inside her. His cock fountained cum, more cum than ever before, it seemed. She groaned, aware of Anders' scent as his hand still firmly covered her mouth. The gorgeous girl felt burst after burst of hot, sticky seed fill up her aching pussy until it was overflowing.

Anders' kept grunting, his cock twitching madly. 'Oh god, is he still coming?' she marveled, as his straining penis continued to writhe inside her cunt for a good twenty-five seconds. His plaintive groan seemed to accompany the last few twinges of spewing seed, until every last drop had been spent deep inside her love-hole—every last trace of sperm destined for her womb. The muscular Frenchman finally sighed. His arms wrapped around her from behind as he relished the final few seconds of his cock nestled inside her sex. Neither of the lovers knew the significance of what had just happened.

Even though Carissa was on the pill, Anders had just impregnated her.

Now his wilting member slipped out. He watched as the excess cum began to ooze out of her well-fucked pussy. So much cum.

Still entranced in a haze of lust and passion, Carissa reached down, catching the falling jism. She brought her hand up to her mouth, licking Anders' glistening fluids from her fingertips.

"Mmmm," she sighed. "You taste delicious."

"Shut up and kiss me," he growled. She did, surprised that he didn't mind the taste of his own cum as she gave it back to him on her tongue. Then she was leaning against him, her sexually sated body reveling in the shroud of his scent and his warmth. He had his arms about her again. He felt the excess sticky streams of cum trickling out of Carissa's snatch, but he didn't care. Their bodies pressed together, he nuzzled her neck and just held her tight. And every fiber of his being showed a care for her that Carissa realized was rooted in pure love, regardless of the twisted, messed-up baggage that Anders brought with him.

She would love him back, no matter what.

**********

EPILOGUE

Four Weeks Later...

Carissa frowned. She was naked, standing in the bathroom, staring at the pregnancy test. How could one thin blue line just shatter her entire world?

"Anders. Anders!" She called to him. He was there in the blink of an eye. His eyes tightened as he saw the anxiety on her face. After she'd missed her period, she'd asked him to pick up the pregnancy test. He'd complied. Now, as he stood there, panting and concerned, she waved the test at him. Tears sprang to her cheeks.

"I'm pregnant."

She was crying because she assumed he'd make her abort the baby. After all, if he was such a control freak that he could barely let her go out, what were the chances that he would tolerate the chaos of a child entering the picture? How would a child even fit into this twisted existence the two of them had? She had helped soften Anders' rougher edges, but he was still basically the same paranoid, control-obsessed man. She was still his captive. His well-kept treasure in a gilded cage.

"Why do you cry?" he said. She could only gape at him, confused at first.

His eyes were shining with...was it joy? Yes, it was. There was this joy there, a blinding light inside those blue-gray eyes that practically infused the whole room.

He cupped her face, kissing her with a fervency that left her breathless. He was naked too. His warmth seeped into her bones as he hugged her tight. She buried her face against his chest, tears still leaking from her eyes onto his muscled shoulder.

"Wait...I don't understand," she sniffed. "You...the baby...?" There was a question lingering in the air as words just failed her.

He drew back. His strong, rugged jaw thrust outward with a look of pride. "My swimmers were too strong. I knocked you up," he said, eyes glinting with good-humored triumph as he stated the obvious. There was a look of amazement in his eyes too. They'd never looked so luminous, as if all the darkness in his soul had just been drained out.

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