Overpowered at the Office Ch. 05

As Sandra released her grip on the robe, it parted on its own. She felt her face flush as Simon's warm gaze settled on her breasts.

'Keep it together,' Simon cautioned himself, feeling his cock begin to ache.

Shakily he blew out a long breath. Although he'd climaxed back at the office, now that he faced a clear view of Sandra's nudity for the first time, he momentarily questioned his lasting power.

Simon reached to the side and picked up a pair of mismatched scarves draped across her white bedside table. Pushing up onto his knees he edged toward her, wrapping one scarf around his hands until it pulled tight.

Sandra gaped at him in horror. 'Is he going to strangle me?' she wondered, inwardly screaming for her body to move. In terror her limbs had frozen and could she only watch as Simon slowly closed the distance between them.

When he pounced, she shrieked and fell backwards with him on top of her. His chiseled face loomed above hers a few seconds before lowering - his mouth teased and nibbled her lips, encouraging her to open up and kiss him back. Half-resigned to her fate, she didn't fight but tried her best to ignore him, lying passive until he raised his head and looked into her beautiful eyes, glimmering with unshed tears.

"What did I tell you about screaming?" he teased, and moved the scarf resting across her collarbone up to her mouth.

"No, wait! Sim-nFFFHHH!" she cried, as he effectively gagged her.

The scarf was several shades of purple wool, made by her grandmother. Its coarse thickness silenced Sandra far more efficiently than an ordinary scarf would have. First-hand she discovered that her gran knit one hell of a sturdy scarf. Although not in the same league of stupidity as leaving the balcony door unlocked, Sandra was irrationally mad at herself for leaving the scarf next to the bed.

"This is going to be so good," Simon promised her, his dark eyes serious in his arousal. He sat back and pulled her clenched fists from her sides, forcing her hands open easily.

"Right now you have no idea, but you will," he muttered, pressing a wet kiss into the palm of each small hand before wrapping the second scarf around Sandra's wrists. This scarf was pure silk and warm-coloured, like her eyes.

Sandra could accept that he wanted to keep her quiet, but when he moved her body so that she lay properly on the bed and raised her arms above her head, she fought for her life. Back at the office she thought he was just a pervert, on the drive home she suspected he was emotionally unstable, but by now she genuinely believed he was bat-shit crazy.

Simon laughed cruelly as he climbed forward, forcing her back. He straddled her, knees on either side of her waist, keeping her down while he took his time securing her hands to the headboard.

He didn't pay any attention to her knees kicking into his back. Given his size Sandra grudgingly realised her actions were hurting herself more than him - it was like kneeing into a solid wall. Her strength was no match for his, and soon she found herself bound, gagged and, though technically still wearing the robe, completely exposed to him.

Simon carefully manoeuvred his body backwards over her writhing form, toward the foot of the bed so he could survey his handiwork. Blushing in embarrassment under his perusal, she twisted and turned to loosen the bonds, carefully keeping her legs closed.

"NNNNNFFFHHHH!" she hollered into the scarf, her eyes pleading with his.

Simon winked at her, loving her helplessness. "Don't worry," he grinned widely, "I won't keep you waiting long."

"Bnnpph, ynnphh, unnnph-phhhh!" she argued.

Simon easily recognised what she was trying to say: 'But you promised!'

"I did promise," he admitted, enjoying how her eyes lit up hopefully as she realised he understood. "I promised not to rape you at the office. But I also made it clear we are going to be lovers, so," he shrugged his broad shoulders with exaggerated regret, "you could say that promise is now obsolete."

Though Sandra expected betrayal from him, her eyes widened in dismay and her breathing became laboured. Both exertion and panic caused her pert breasts to rapidly rise and fall. Simon could almost feel his pupils dilate as he watched them. Barely able to control his own ragged breathing, he tried to soothe her anxiety.

"Sandra, I'm not going to hurt you," he said sincerely, "but you know better than to think I'll walk out of this room and go home." He chuckled that she might have thought such a thing.

Simon's words had the opposite effect. Sandra was fast becoming hysterical. For the first time that evening her mind was completely blank - she could think of nothing to calm herself down. She was naked and completely helpless; captive to a nutcracker who had deceived her into believing he was a normal person.

Unable to resist, Simon moved forward, reaching out with both hands to capture her straining breasts while she struggled. He couldn't suppress a groan as he caressed her, rolling her nipples between his fingers till they stood to attention.

Lowering his head to her right breast, he attached his mouth to one deliciously pink, perfectly shaped nipple, just begging to be sucked. His hot breath seemed to sear her to the bone and his mouth lingered above her breast as he alternated between licking, kissing, and gently tugging at the sensitive peak with his teeth. Almost immediately Simon realised he was going too fast, he needed to slow down or he'd finish too soon.

Reluctantly his mouth left her breast and he sat back, exhaling heavily and moving his hands from her chest. He traced down her body, casually running his large hands a few times up and down her bare, shapely legs. Soon after, he settled them on her thighs and lightly squeezed their soft, taut flesh. Quickly, before she knew what he was about, he slid his strong hands inwards and expertly forced her legs open.

Upon this awful development, Sandra, twisting and pulling against the restraining scarf, urged herself to think of something, anything. She wished that by some astronomical miracle he'd have a sudden attack of conscience. But like in the file-room before he'd first kissed her - she knew better than to hope.

Going over the circumstances made her feel worse. It was the start of the weekend and she was a prisoner in her own home. No one was coming to rescue her. All she could do was fight her bonds and mew into her gag. And now, legs spread before him, she was in a terribly vulnerable position.

Her thoughts were unpleasantly forced back to the present when she felt his fingers tentatively touching her pussy - stroking, spreading, probing. Squealing into the scarf in fright and outrage, detesting the feel of unfamiliar hands on that sensitive location, she drew her knees up and tried to kick him away. Simon easily deflected her kicks and settled comfortably on his stomach directly in front of her, closely facing her most intimate area. He captured her legs and held them down firmly under his strong arms as he continued his play.

'What the fuck is he doing?' thought Sandra wildly.

"I can't trust you to answer me truthfully, so I must find out myself," Simon murmured, as though he knew her thoughts. "Now try to relax."

Sandra curled forward and strained her neck to see what he was doing. Feeling her movement he lifted his head to smile at her reassuringly before lowering again to concentrate on his task.

Her head hit the pillows and her back arched in shock as she felt a finger slowly slip inside her and settle, feeling her walls surround it tightly, before pulling out. She heard him sucking his fingers, then again jumped against her bonds as she felt two fingers ease into her, but this time they weren't taken out. They slowly began to slide further inside, deeper, gently feeling their way along her tight passage.

Trying to disrupt the assault, she fought to free her legs from under him.

"Easy," his deep voice travelled up from between her legs, she could feel his hot breath on her inner-thigh. "Easy, Sandra," he soothed gently, as though calming a spooked horse.

'What the hell-' then she realised. He was checking if she was a virgin!

Aware that she was becoming aroused, Sandra wriggled uncomfortably until Simon was finally satisfied and took his hand away. He sat back on his knees, sliding his hands from her thighs down to her calves. His hands circled her ankles, ensuring she couldn't try to kick him again. He looked at her thoughtfully, then playfully lifted one of her legs to kiss a finely-shaped calf.

"I was hoping to be your first," he confided in disappointment, resting his cheek against her raised leg. "I was almost sure of it when I got a finger inside you."

Sandra's couldn't help but notice the long fingers on his hand glistened with her juices and his saliva. Simon, following her eyes, temporarily released her leg to lick the moisture off his fingers. Out of his grip, she hastily brought her leg down, hating being so obscenely spread open to him. As she considered kicking him in the face, his other hand quickly circled her ankle. At least he didn't raise her leg again.

Simon felt his blood boiling in his veins. Although his actions were controlled and methodical, after viewing and playing with her sensitive core he was practically hyperventilating from lust. Forcing himself to take deep, steady breaths, he contemplated that perhaps if he didn't rush, he could see out his desires without being premature.

Releasing her ankles he slid his body up over hers, grinding his erection where it belonged. Then he moved back down so their faces were almost even. He hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her head upwards, directing her bright hazel eyes to meet his.

"I don't mind at all," he said thickly, gazing at her again with that same intensity she didn't think him capable of until the file-room encounter. "You're supremely tight, I can't wait to get inside you."

As Simon indulged in the thought, his eyes seemed to glow. "You'll take all of me Sandra, and you're going to love it. Soon you'll crave my dick inside you."

He sniggered as she quickly shook her head in response, glaring up at him.

"Oh yes," he kissed the top of her nose, since her mouth was occupied. "I don't know who popped your cherry, but he wasn't a man who had any idea what to do with a beautiful woman."

His smile faded and his eyes turned cold at the thought of her with another man.

"He was obviously some needle-dick loser who was lucky enough to get a shot at you, since you didn't know any better," he said in disgust.

Though she should have felt satisfaction in his displeasure, fury snaked its way through Sandra as Simon insulted her ex. Her ex-boyfriend, Peter, was a bona fide nice guy. Their relationship ran its course and ended amicably. Peter had always treated her with love and respect. More than anything she wished she wasn't gagged so she could throw it in Simon's face, tell him that Peter was more of a man than he could ever be, that she'd be thinking about Peter when Simon inevitably raped her.

All she could do was shake her head at him furiously. The anger in her gaze didn't aggravate Simon, but seemed to send waves of heat down his body with the force of shooting stars.

Half-smiling he watched her for a moment with one eyebrow raised, pointedly mocking her predicament, before he retreated backwards off the bed and stood facing her, still fully dressed.

Sandra stared at Simon apprehensively, and trembled when he began to slowly and deliberately undress.

"Don't shut your eyes," he said sharply, when she began to close them and turn her face away.

She watched him loosen the knot on his patterned tie. It slid off his neck, like a dark snake. One by one, he popped the buttons on his beige business shirt, revealing a muscular chest, which expanded as he breathed deeply, struggling to contain his excitement.

If she thought he was large before, Sandra realised she'd obviously underestimated his size, as he stood before her with no shirt on. Though he was still wearing business pants, waist upwards he looked like he'd just completed a day-long training exercise in the army.

Thoroughly intimidated, Sandra didn't recognise her own frightened whimper through the gag. She was terrified. He said he wouldn't hurt her, but watching him silently stand over her, half-naked, she quaked inwardly and uncertainty stirred in her belly.

He didn't look harmless, didn't look like the type of guy anyone would mess with. Dimly she wondered what she had to gain from refusing him and possibly making him angry. Not that her cooperation was an issue, she remembered bitterly, as her wrists tugged futilely on the silk bonds.

Smugly, Simon undid his belt and took his time slipping it from his trousers, unlike in the file-room, when his urgency caused him to discard it in a heartbeat. From the bed Sandra watched as his pants dropped and she recognised his black underwear, bringing back unpleasant memories.

Simon never took his eyes from her, didn't even glance down as he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks. In the light of her bedroom, she resentfully admitted he looked fantastic, like a male model ready to strut. Well, without the giant hard-on.

"Now comes the fun part," he said quietly, and she had to strain to hear him over her thundering heartbeat.

Before she could shut her eyes from the image, he slipped off his briefs and again she viewed his large cock, seemingly bigger than she remembered.

Fully naked, Simon crawled across the bed, slapping her legs open and settling himself between her smooth thighs. His biceps flexed as he easily supported his upper body, peering down into her face.

Sandra began to sweat a little, partly from nervousness, partly from the heat of his bare skin on her own. After all she'd been through that night, Sandra still felt dreadful embarrassment having their naked bodies pressed against each other. She'd never done anything so intimate with a person whom she knew so little, let alone a person who forced her outside her comfort zone. For a moment Simon appreciated her thwarted modesty, kissing both of her burning cheeks before speaking.

"Now, Sandra," he spoke carefully, like a parent warning a naughty child, "now that we're ready for our game to begin, I'm going to remove your gag, because I want to be able to hear your enjoyment."

Very conscious of his large cock nudging around between her legs, Sandra shifted nervously, not making a sound. She knew she treaded on very thin ice.

"But," he continued menacingly, "you're not going to give me any trouble. You're not going to disobey or upset me. Because if you do, you'll be very sorry to discover that you haven't seen my ugly side yet."

Bleakly, Sandra stared up into the black fire of his eyes and meekly nodded. If his current actions were what he considered to be best behaviour, she didn't want to imagine how his ugly side would treat her.

Supporting himself with one arm, he gently worked at the knot securing the scarf to her face.

"Kind of scratchy, isn't it," he commented, easing the rough gag out of her mouth and off her head, "no wonder you've been so quiet." He tossed it aside and looked down at her, like a kid about to eat birthday cake.

"I've missed these lips," he whispered, "open your mouth, sweetheart."

Seeing the terror in her eyes, Simon's heart beat more rapidly and his eyes narrowed in lust as she complied without argument, opening wide. Eyes closing, he quickly fastened his lips to hers, merging their tongues and angling his head to warm her up to it. One of his hands moved between them to caress her breasts.

With his tongue in her mouth and his muscular, naked body moving against her, Sandra could barely think. She'd given up on escape - if she couldn't get away at the office, or be safe in her own apartment, there was little point attempting to form some ridiculous plan to get this naked man off her and out of her life.

Her jaw still ached from forcing his cock into her mouth at the office, and any moment now he was going to put that huge thing inside her. With this realisation the blood began to pound in her head and she felt faint, or perhaps it was the heat of his naked form enveloping her. At least it wouldn't come as a shock - she'd have warning, though it gave her little comfort. Given their vast height difference he would have to stop kissing her, to move up her body in order for them to properly fit together, to join as one.

Petrified of that incoming moment, and imagining what the future held in store for her alongside this psycho, Sandra went to pieces and cried under him as he continued to grind against her. As his kisses shifted, alternating between her mouth and her cheeks, she tasted her own tears on his lips.

The hand massaging her breasts slipped down between their writhing bodies and Simon gently cupped her pussy, circled her swollen clit with his thumb, and dipped a finger inside her a little, less than a centimetre. Suddenly he stopped kissing her and jerked his head back in astonishment. Against her will, Sandra opened her eyes to face him. Noting the look on his face, she had no doubt he knew.

The light pouring in through the open window eerily illuminated the usually darkened bedroom. Simon stared down at Sandra as though hypnotised, ecstatic realisation dawning across his features. All the while his finger continued to gently probe around her entrance, thumb still brushing her core, torturing her.

"You're dripping wet!" he exclaimed.

If she was blushing before, now she felt like her whole face was on fire from both the heat of her involuntary arousal and the awful knowledge that he had finally discovered it.

Simon watched her for a moment wonderingly, absorbing this new information, his expression a mix of triumph and surprise.

"Well, Sandra," he breathed, and his eyes mocked her. "I think you're ready for me..."