Stealing Emma

Now I might be a kidnapping sexual predator, but Emma was crazy -- like clinical dementia. Emma lapsed into silence again, apparently she had said her piece. The staring contest went on, and gears were whirring in my head, tumblers clicking into place.

Suddenly, I understood. My mind went back to the first time I met Emma; I had asked about her family, which turned out to be a big mistake. Emma was abandoned at the hospital after she was born, and she was a ward of the state her whole life. But she survived 18 years foster care and state houses, and when she graduated high school she had scholarships lined up out the door. It was at this time that her mother reappeared. Needless to say, that was emotionally traumatic, and I regretted making Emma relive it. It was a taboo topic, especially because Emma seemed so well-adjusted, and I had nearly forgotten about it.

But now, Trent made sense. He met a girl who was alone in the world and gave her the love she had never known. Maybe he was sincere at one time, and he had really loved her. That didn't change the fact that he had taken a fragile, lonely girl, made her completely dependent, and now he used her for whatever purpose served him. Meanwhile, Emma couldn't let go of the love she desperately needed.

I hated Trent before, but now realized what a heartless, manipulative bastard he was actually was. But he would get his eventually -- I can do a lot in two months, after all.

"Trent doesn't love you. He's manipulating your thoughts and pushing everyone who really loves you away so that he can control you. There was a time when he was all you had, and now he's using the fear of losing him to control you.

"I know you haven't had a normal life, and maybe that's why you can't tell the difference between love and control. But I think I can show you."

Emma didn't appreciate my little monologue. She turned her head away, the only escape she was capable of. I grabbed her chin and locked eyes with her. "I'm going to make you mine now -- completely mine. You can't stop me, I love you too much to give up on you. Now go over to that table."

I stood up and left Emma unrestrained on the bed. She glanced at the door, probably thinking about her last escape attempt. But that was only for an instant, and then she walked over to the table. It was a heavy, oak piece with some special hardware installed by yours truly.

"Kneel on the floor." I commanded as she reached the table. "Do you have contraception?" I questioned in a very professional tone.

"I have been on a birth control regimen for almost a year," she replied, equally professional.

"Get up and kneel in those ankle restraints." I gestured to the shackles on the table. They were iron padded with leather, bolted securely to the table. They were also the perfect distance apart to spread the legs of a petite 5'2" girl. Coincidence? Maybe.

I mounted the table and locked the shackles with simple pins. Emma was on all fours, her poor dress riding up to her waist and showing off her lovely body. I went over to the other table and collected my handy zip ties and scissors. I cut a cross through the back of her dress so that it fell off her back and from around her arms. I was entranced for a moment as the silky fabric slid off of her and she was left completely, exquisitely naked.

Her body truly was a masterpiece, which I drank in. From the bottom, it started with small, delicate feet and smooth, perfectly toned legs. Her round ass framed an enticing pussy as she knelt obediently. She had a narrow waist, and beneath her supple skin I could just make out her hipbones and two ribs on each side. She was pale, refusing to use a tanning bed like most college girls. She had almost no chest to speak of, but her slight breasts hung from her chest in perfect orbs, and her pink nipples stuck out with obvious anticipation. Just before I started to drool, I stopped staring dumbly and zip tied her wrists to the perfectly placed rope holds (basically large eyelets.) Still, something was missing. I couldn't help myself from going back over to the table to get a hair tie.

With her short hair pulled back, I had a much better view: Emma's cute little ears, her fair cheeks and delicate jaw. And if she turned her head, I would see a small, rounded nose, rather full lips, and those big emerald eyes. My preoccupation with her eyes actually began to disturb me. It seemed like they would hypnotize me if I let them, and I would never wake up. Those deep, silent eyes spoke of untold secrets, and still they betrayed no ray of light, no spark of life.

Now standing on the floor in front of Emma, I said, "Look at me." She raised her head and waited. I pulled off my shirt and quickly unbuckled my pants, letting them sink to the ground. Her eyes roamed over my body. I wanted her to have a clear image in her head for what was going to happen next.

After a moment, I walked out of Emma's field of vision and her head did not turn to follow me. Despite the feigned indifference, her breathing stopped and she grew rigid as I mounted the table. I paused here again, not to contemplate anything but to draw out the anticipation. The room was dead quiet; not a single duct rattled, not a single beam groaned, not a single breath emanated from Emma or me. She continued to hold herself rigid on all fours, waiting for whatever pleasure or punishment I had in store.

I knelt down and brought my tongue to her slit again. I lubricated her pussy and asshole well, and gently teased her with my tongue. That was all the foreplay I could manage as I held between my hands the ass of the girl I had craved for almost 3 years now (it's the girl I crave, not the ass.) My breathing became noisy and shallow as I knelt behind her, loving the feel of the silken skin just below her waist. With one quick motion, I entered her.

Before, I knew I was poorly in control, but now, I lost it. I threw all plans out the window as I frantically fucked this beautiful woman. I thrust and rutted and humped Emma with all the energy and passion in my body. The only rational part of my mind remaining was focused on not coming, on making this glorious moment last forever. Her response was equally wild and abandoned; she rocked back into me, arching her back so my cock would glide over her G spot with every motion. She moaned and shrieked and tossed her head, completely without thought, and soon she was taken further from reality by a steady string of orgasms. They built up gradually and periodically erupted with bouts of even more furious sex and unearthly screaming. We occupied this state for an interminable period of time, both of us devoting all energy to this monumental act of ecstasy that seemed to go on without end.

Finally my body betrayed me, and I came in one delicious, whole-body contraction. Emma couldn't do anything but continue to milk my cock until semen was dripping out of her and I was too soft to stay inside her clenching pussy. I fell to the side, trembling and possibly crying, completely unable to rise above what I was experiencing. Emma collapsed forward, and with the flexible wrist bonds she managed to lay down with her arms at her sides.

I was having a lot of trouble with time that day, and I believe several more years passed before I gathered myself and rose to my knees. In a daze, I unbound Emma, and after collecting myself further, I carried her back to the bed.

She rolled gracefully from my arms, collecting a blanket around her as she continued rolling to one side of the bed. Grabbing another sheet, I laid down behind her, and much to my joy, Emma wiggled backward and fit herself into the crescent of my body. The feeling was so sublime, and we both lay motionless, breathing softly. Her body was warm and soft, and she was somehow radiant. I gently held her next to me with one arm around her middle.

I discretely checked the time, 8am. While I had been musing about luck earlier, now I pondered how much things can change in such a short span of time. All over campus, the party crowd was still comatose or grappling with severe hangovers, and surely I had a few more hours before someone wondered where little Emma had gone off to. But this occupied only a minute part of my mind. The rest was simply content to lay there until the apocalypse came, whatever.

And yet, some other tiny lobe of my brain was confronting a hard truth. Eventually, I would have to emerge from this dusty bunker and face real life. Emma was a broken girl with no family, she was completely detached from reality, and she had spent the last few years of her life worshipping an evil man who systematically destroyed her self-worth. The image of her dark, dead eyes now haunted me.

But now I drifted to sleep, and I was hopeful, because some day I would find the light deep in those eyes, and I would make it shine brighter than ever.