Stranger Than Fiction

The strong soothing scent stirred by her breath within the glass brought a hypnotic calm before the dry red crept across her lips and rippled around her tongue. She held her eyes closed and sighed, happy at this one small indulgence. It was a cheap bottle, but cheap indulgences were the best kind anymore. Years ticked off on her time card towards her degree, and the late night yellow glow of her poorly lit apartment was a haven in and of itself. It was quiet here, alone, sometimes lonely, but the cheap furniture and terrible paint job wrapped around her like a warm blanket: all hers to revel in, feel safe, feel warm. She opened her eyes and stared into the glass: empty. The glass looked so sad and cold at the bottom, much like the damp cold air outside. Fall settling in once again with a light rain...so comforting, so drearily routine.

She sighed heavily and twisted her mouth as she alternated her eyes between the computer on her lap and the empty glass in her hand. She was enjoying giving this assignment her own defiant twist. "Does this hide my 'personal feminist vendetta' enough for you, Professor Lehey?" She unfolded herself from the couch, set the laptop on the floor, and padded to the kitchen to fill her glass. The struggle with the cork ended in a dull pop: "This be my muse." She smiled watching the burgundy nectar splash for the fifth time that night against the sides before smoothly filling to the top. She cringed as the last of the bottle quickly emptied into the glass; she thought her splurge would have lasted her longer.

The light dizziness in her head intensified as she sunk back onto the couch. Her eyelids felt heavier than the computer she nestled back into her lap. Procrastination isn't so terrible as long as the end result is satisfactory. Each blink was a temptation though at this point; the momentary comfort of dark beckoned unconsciousness. "Gotta get this done." She shook her head to clear her vision and her fingers danced their mandated steps:

...she could help it. He had made her do it, but why? The excitement in her stomach should have given her the answer, but instead it only burned more questions. Her sweating naked skin pressed into floor harder with each heavy breath, tears rolling down her nose, head turned to the side, eyes squeezing shut against her shame. "A...are you done with me now? Can I go?"

The room felt warm...perhaps from the wine? She swiped her hand across her chest through the sweat accidentally touching her breast. "Mmm..." she rolled her head back and murmured, a knowing smile spread across her reddening face. "Not now, need to finish." She shook her head again, trying to clear her thoughts:

His good-natured laugh surprised her. "Sure, go right ahead darling. See you later." Gingerly she tried to stand, then realized the cruelty of the joke. There was no way for her to rise the way she was bound, let alone try to go anywhere. She struggled for a moment against the bonds naivety told her would loosen, only for her hope to shatter like her spirit had minutes before.

"Problem? I told you that you could leave, don't make me change my mind."

"Please..."

"Yes?"

"If I...If I'm free," her voice tightened against sobs of inevitable defeat, "will you take these off so I can go?"

He circled his prey. "You're asking me for a favor?" His cold arrogant tone alone relayed the true answer to her question.

Her emotions kaleidoscoped through sadness, rage, humiliation, fear, frustration, and arousal. "You said... but I... why are you..." unable to put it together. "Just...why? Tell me why you are doing this to me?"

Cat-like grace controlled his movements as he knelt by her side, laced a hand through her hair, and made a fist. His other hand probed between her thighs to the sticky wetness she was surprised he found there. "Perhaps this answers your question?"

"Freaking right," she almost moaned out loud, a small trickle of moisture creeping between her thighs as she typed.

She gasped as his cold steely fingers invaded her warm, wet folds. What response could she have for his observation? He pulled his fingers out and placed them in her mouth. Staring at him wide-eyed, she sucked them clean.

"Oh man, I need to do this." She pulled down her pants and allowed her wetness to splay across the couch. One hand shot down the front of her shirt, grabbing her nipple to tug and pull, the other hand went to her sex and began to glide over her slick clit. Slowly at first, she started thinking about the rest of the paper she was going to write. "It's all part of planning, have to get the mood right" she tried to reassure herself, letting her hands add to her head's dizzied frenzy the alcohol already created. More, and more, her hand down her shirt alternated between her nipples, rubbing them, pulling on them, pinching, imagining her hands belonging to a man. The hand on her sex likewise pretended a man was there caressing her, probing her insides, plunging deeply and rhythmically before using the sopping wet juices to lubricate her clit. The routine was familiar, but always exciting, building upon her story, her own private fantasy, her scholastic project, her manifested lust.

Arching one leg over the back of the sofa, she began plunging her two longest fingers deep inside of her, never pulling them all the way out, but providing a rhythmic pulse, her palm providing a sucking action against her clit. "Yes! Yes, I want to cum for you," talking to her undefined fantasy, the figment that in her mind was fucking her. "Um-hmm, oh yes, yes, let me have it, it's so good, yes, come on, I want it!" Pumping harder and faster, stretching herself out with her fingers, she was soon overwhelmed with sensation: the wine and pleasure made her head spin with surreal ecstasy. "Yes, yes, I want it, I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Thank you! thank you....thank...." She closed her eyes and let her body settle into involuntary jerks and waves until she was still.

"Good girl," his dark voice half murmured, half chuckled.

The panic of not being alone snapped her eyes to the side to look at him. His eyes glinted but his mouth twisted. "And sense when do you look at me?"

She shot up as best her weakened legs would allow her, never having experienced such a sharp "fight or flight" quandary. She couldn't even scream; that would have made sense. "Wh..Who the fuck ARE YOU???" She yelled at him, backing away, standing on the couch as if a few more inches of distance between them would provide her solace. But her feet whispered a new discovery:

That wasn't her couch.

For whatever reason, he looked rather pensive as he cautiously approached her, almost as if he were the one confused. "Girl...I'm only going to ask you this once: what is the matter with you? Have you learned nothing in the past few days?"

She barely heard him as she clutched both fists to the sides of her head in panic, her eyes desperately wide as she took in her surroundings: a bedroom, darkly furnished. Wooden floors not her own. A man she didn't know, shirtless, muscular, darkly tanned. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark, dark, dark, everything. Her head swirled as nausea crept up her throat. She kept physically turning, as if each new corner was an unbearable surprise. "What is happening to me?"

He leapt for her, tackling her on his bed that she was standing on. Her feeble fight died quickly under his massive embrace, he none-too-kindly pinning her beneath him. "Have you lost your mind?" he spat through clenched teeth into her ear. "You're just going to have to fucking accept this, one way or another. And you WILL do as I say..." he roughly yanking her strange dress up to expose her bear bottom.

Handling her easily, he folded her hands behind her back as he sat up, then pressed her firmly across his lap. Keeping her hands bound behind her with one hand, the other caressed her naked globes exposed to him. She was fighting to maintain consciousness; it was all too much.

"Tell me" he shot authoritatively, "what are you?"

"What do you mean?"

SMACK. His hand landed hard on her naked ass. "What are you?"

Smack. Smack. Over and over, his hand landed, she trying to ask what he meant, he only kept repeating his question. After about the twentieth time he smacked her, she cried, "What do you want me to be?!"

His hand landed once more. "Well, that's at least a start." He threw her onto the floor in disgust, and stood to loom over her. His rage seemed radiate off of him. So strong, he looked so incredibly strong. With wild eyes she looked up at him, wondering in terror what he would do. In one smooth move he reached out for the crop on the table and brought it down with incredible force across her back. "Eyes down, slut!"

New heights of panic and terror overtook her as she tried to rationalize. He was the only one in the room with her, the only way she could get answers. Somehow, she knew.

She knelt abjectly in front of him, trying to make herself appear as submissive as possible. "Please...Sir...I beg you have mercy on me, but I do not know where I am, who you are, or what is happening...will you please help me Sir?"

His eyes narrowed, trying to detect a trick. "You're kidding me."

She started to cry, and shake her head fervently, but she didn't look up at him, just at the floor in front of him. "No Sir, I don't know what happened, I don't know where I am..."

"...I'll light your skin up if you're lying to me."

"no...I'm not lying."

He let out a guttural groan of disgust. "You fucking people, I swear you aren't even worth it." He started to laugh, half out of anger, half out of legitimate amusement. "Are you all this crazy? It would explain why your city was so easy to capture."

Her eyes inadvertently shot up to his. "My city?" The crop fell hard on her back, she yelped, and put her eyes back on the floor adding a quick, "my apologies, Sir."

"Yes, your city...how you got here?"

Tears welled up in her eyes, shamed. "How DID I get here?"

"Heavens, you have lost it, haven't you? I need to talk to my boys about their gift giving abilities." He paced a bit, his eyes still narrowed on her, still trying to pick up on the game she was playing. "So you don't remember the raid? Perhaps you're trying so hard to forget?"

"...perhaps,"

"Stand!" His sudden command interrupted her attempted rationale. She was slow to get up, which found the crop landing on her twice, sharply, quickly. "Immediately!"

Once standing, he stood directly in front of her, tracing his crop over her skin. "My beauty, you don't remember your entire city going up in flames? Our army completely destroying everything, including the lives of most your men?"

A flood of tears welled in her eyes. "No."

"Perhaps it's better, then, that you don't remember how we took what we wanted, including curvaceous little sluts like you. Spoils of war, if you will." He deftly pulled her loose dress over her head. His eyes raked over her naked body. "I guess they were doing the best they could, based upon what they saw, but my men didn't realize what insanity lie behind that succulent little face of yours. You were a gift to me."

An ever tightening throat squeaked, "What are you going to do with me?"

A huff of a laugh escaped before he reached up and grabbed her breast. "Start by retraining you." He paced around her, circling his prey, running a hand across her flesh as he moved. "Train your body to do as I'd like. You're nothing."

She couldn't see the sneer on his face as he surveyed his enemy trophy. "Do you know what you are now? What are you?"

"Your slave, Sir."

"Very good. We're making progress." He paused behind her, his large hands circling around her waist. Pressing downwards, his hands let her flesh slip through them making their way to her ass. "And what will my slave give me?"

As if in a daze, not believing this was actually happening, in her meekest voice possible: "Anything you desire."

"Very good. Maybe you're not so dumb after all." He moved around to her side, groping her breasts with one hand, kneading her ass with the other. "You sluts are only good for one thing."

She clamped her eyes shut in protest of her response: wetness trickling steadily from her sex. Her labored breathing told him he was right.

"Ah..." the sneer in his voice evident, "so my little captive likes it? Maybe she's starting to remember how she moaned like a whore each time I plunged myself into her?"

She couldn't control it. Her head was spinning, lust, confusion, ecstasy, bewilderment. Her lips had long parted to let excited puffs of breath escape, but she focused her energies to give him a feeble response: "no."

"No? Alright then, let me remind you."

Roughly taking her arms, he half pushed, half carried her to his bed. He placed her on her back, grabbed her legs, and pulled her cunt to him as he crawled on top of her. His raging hard on seemed to naturally find the opening of her wet sex, but he was teasing her. He dipped himself in only slightly, only to pull himself out and rub against her clit. She closed her eyes: was this really happening? What was going on? She wanted him so badly; she wanted him to fuck her. Her head thrashed back and forth, and her moans and struggles left doubt as to whether she was feebly fighting him or encouraging his entrance.

His mouth closed down over one of her nipples, holding it in his teeth as his tongue flicked hard and fast. With a suctioned kiss, he pulled his head away to hold her close to him, and buried his face in her hair next to her ear. "Tell me, my beauty, do you remember now?"

"No...no but please...let me..."

"Please what?" He thrust into her hard and fast, holding her body tightly to his as she went rigid and gasped sharply, letting her once again get used to his enormous size. "Please that? Is that what you were asking for?"

"Yes!"

He chuckled, his hands circling around her back, getting a better grip. "Oh...okay. Let me give it to you, then. Take each stroke gratefully, whore," rocking his hips, grinding himself in and out of her.

Never in all her life had anything felt that good. His large, hot, sleek organ entirely filled her, giving her just enough friction in all the right places. His hips lightly kissed her clit each time he moved into her, and the heat of his skin pressing against her nipples sent waves through her core. He kept his head next to hers, kissing the side of her face, murmuring words of encouragement. Pure ecstasy; she couldn't get enough of it.

She wrapped both her arms and legs around his back, pulling him into her harder, tighter, every nerve in her body crying out to touch more of him. In her subconscious mind, she knew it didn't make any sense, desperately needing a stranger who claimed he owned her to fuck her the way he was, but there they were, and she was loving it. "More...more..." she moaned out to him.

He moaned out his observation: "You sluts...it always amazes me how you put up a fight for ten seconds before giving yourself over as fuck toys. That's all you are," accentuating each word with a stroke, "Warm. Wet. Holes. To cum in." He continued pounding at her. "Is that what you want? Do you want my cum in you?"

She was on the verge of cumming herself. "Yes! Yes, please, just a little more?"

"Are you going to cum with me, whore?"

"Yes, yes please let me..."

His head dropped as it lulled, holding her tightly, sinking into her. "That's it, girl, take what I give you."

"Yes, yes please, there it is, let me cum..."

"Take my cum..."

"Yes, I want it, oh please..."

"You fucking whore..."

"Yes! Yes! I'm cumming!"

His body went rigid with involuntary jerks spurting his seed into her, groaning deep. When the jerks subsided, he lay on top of her, his labored breath slowing, his hard shaft shrinking, his body sinking into hers as he drifted into slumber. She, holding his sweating skin to hers, used his warmth like a blanket to drift off herself. Such pleasant sweet thoughts...wonderful dreams to come...

She bolted awake, knocking her wine glass over, it shattering on the floor. She was still naked, staring at her apartment trying to figure out what had happened. Her computer had gone into standby mode; the only light came from her eerie yellow lamps. She put her hand to her head and shut her eyes. "Shit."

Begrudgingly she pulled herself off the couch, went to the closet, and got a broom and dust pan. After cleaning the broken glass, she slumped back onto the couch and pulled her laptop back onto her lap. Shaking her head to clear it, she looked at the clock: 4 am. "Shit." She read back over where she had left off, trying to find get back to here theme. Smiling with her inspired dream, she sighed long and happy before her fingers danced over the keyboard to finish the project.

She knew he was right: she did like it, she did want it. All her life she had fantasized about a man like this, and now that he was running his possessive fingers over her naked body, she didn't know how to react. But reaction doesn't always require thought...

***

A knock came to his door. He pulled it open to see two of his men standing in the hallway.

"Had to come check, Sir, it sounds like you're enjoying our present?"

He ran his hands through his hair, twisted his mouth, and turned his head. "Yeah, well, she's a good lay alright, beautiful, but she's crazy. She's sleeping now, but keeps murmuring stuff that doesn't make any sense. What the hell's a laptop? Is that a sexual dance we don't know about?"

"I don't know," said one of his men, "have her show you when she wakes up."

"I don't know that I want her to wake up. Last time she acted like she had no idea where she was, who I was, or anything."

"You fucked her and she forgot? You're losing your touch."

He laughed. "I guess so. That or she is having a hard time accepting her city's gone and she's a slave. She doesn't want to believe it. Let her sleep; let her stay in her dream world where she's safe and happy...for now."