Taken, Tamed

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Wealthy computer nerd relives his first real fuck.
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aveugle
aveugle
1 Followers

Henry Morgan flicked off his desk lamp and shouldered his black Armani laptop case. He turned to face his office window, taking in the shimmering sea of lights that was Manhattan after dark. He sighed deeply. This view was one of the few true pleasures in his life. He enjoyed it often, as he never left work before dark, and often arrived at the office before true dawn.

The light in the outer office, where his assistant worked, suddenly came on, flooding through the open door and turning Henry's window into a mirror. He grimaced. He knew he was not an attractive man, and he resented his reflection's intrusion into the calm moment. His clothing was impeccable, as usual, due to the fact that he employed a very expensive tailor and allowed the man complete control over his appearance, from his rectangular steel blue eyeglasses to his glossy brown wingtips. But the priciest haircut in the world couldn't disguise his thinning, mousy hair or his bulbous nose, hollow cheeks, and thin lips. At least he had avoided a beer gut thus far, no mean feat at forty-two. A passion for climbing and rappelling, nurtured over the past twelve years, had kept him in decent shape, but his lanky frame betrayed no hint of muscle. Despite the designer suit and the Rolex, he still looked like what he was—a nerd. A computer geek. A loser.

Henry turned to find his personal assistant, Daniel, standing in the doorway.

"Excuse me for interrupting you, Mr. Morgan, but I wanted to remind you that today was my last day working for you. I wanted to thank you... um... thank you for the last two years. I've... learned a lot." The thanks was clearly insincere, a meaningless social nicety. Henry said nothing. "Anyway, sir, your new assistant will be here at eight o'clock sharp tomorrow." Daniel stood uncertainly for a moment and then turned to leave. As he exited the outer office, he looked back and said "Her name is Melissa, by the way."

***

Henry accepted the keys from the valet and climbed into the front seat of his jet black Porsche Cayenne. He tried to keep his hands from shaking as he pulled smoothly into the late evening traffic. A female assistant. He couldn't work with women! Ever since he had touched his first Apple II at the age of fourteen, his primary interaction with the world had been through pixels and coding. In high school and college his few friends had been exclusively male. For nine long years he had worked alongside both sexes in a typical office environment and he had never become accustomed to the presence of women... their perfume, their hair, their curving figures under demure business suits.

The confusing, awkward interactions with female co-workers had contributed to his decision to quit his job at Sony twelve years previously. Every aspect of office work had been agony for Henry: the forced camaraderie, the group projects, the open-door policy. His boss had repeatedly passed him over for promotion, ignoring his twelve-hour workdays and choosing employees who were "team players." Finally putting enough in savings to quit had been one of the greatest achievements of Henry's life. It was a pleasant surprise to find that he had inadvertently built a reputation as a brilliant, creative programmer, and Digitech, Sony's key competitor, was more than willing to offer him a high-paying position complete with a private office and a work environment free from... other people. The one exception was his personal assistant, a position that for the last twelve years had been filled by a series of driven, ambitious young men, who were willing to match Henry's punishing work schedule for a year or two in exchange for being placed on the fast track to success at Digitech. He had never gotten along with his assistants. Even the friendliest had reminded him of the arrogant jocks and frat guys he had known in college. He was sure they all judged him, mocked him. He made a habit of maintaining a coldly civil professional relationship with them all.

And this girl would be no different, Henry decided. Why should she be? It wasn't as if he was frightened of women... he was no virgin! His sexual history was different than that of most men his age, perhaps, but it was certainly as extensive. He felt a tension building in his groin as he remembered. His first bedroom experience had come when he was a sophomore in college, courtesy of the kindhearted class slut. She had taken pity on him—or perhaps lost a bet, he would never know—and invited him into her dorm room one evening for a few hours. He had been shocked when she came on to him, but not too shocked to respond. She had sucked his cock with enthusiasm and expertise, and then patiently taught him how to reciprocate. At the time, he had been ashamed of the loveless, superficial encounter, but compared to his subsequent experience, it now seemed sweet, innocent, almost pure.

As a recent college graduate, Henry had found the work world unbearably stressful and boring. When a college acquaintance invited him to a frat party, he jumped at the chance to leave his adult life behind for an evening, conveniently forgetting all the reasons he had avoided such parties throughout his college career. His supposed buddy never showed up, however, and Henry was left wandering through the loud, overcrowded rooms of the frat house, pounding beers and speaking to no one. Eventually, he wandered upstairs in search of a bathroom. Having successfully completed his business, he decided to stay upstairs, where it was quiet, and he drifted drunkenly down the hallway, checking out the various rooms. He opened one door and was startled to see a beautiful, unconscious coed, lying on her back across the bed.

The room was a standard frat room, obviously belonging to a college male, but the girl was alone. Her auburn hair fanned out behind her head, and her skirt was flipped up around her waist. Her black panties were down around her ankles, and her slightly splayed knees gave him a perfect view of her glistening cunt. It was obvious that she had very recently been fucked; whether she had been awake and aware of the encounter was less clear. It occurred to Henry that he should try to wake her, perhaps call an ambulance, or the police. But her exposed, helpless state, not to mention her traffic-stopping body had aroused him to a degree he had never before felt. In a drunken, lustful daze, he stepped into the room, locked the door behind him, and stumbled around the bed, to stand by her head. He shook her gently, then more forcefully. She didn't stir. He lightly slapped her across the face, and her head lolled to one side.

Blood pounded painfully through Henry's dick as he unbuttoned his pants. He pulled it out and slid his pants and boxers to the floor. Gripped the shaft tightly, he knelt on the bed and began rubbing the swollen purple head against the unconscious girl's face. The sensation of her soft, sticky lips limply stroking his cock was intoxicating, as was the knowledge that she would never have submitted to this degradation, had she been given a choice. With his free hand, he reached down and unfastened the two buttons that were keeping her tight, white blouse closed. Her creamy tits filled the lacy black cups of her bra. Henry knew nothing about cup sizes, but she seemed almost as busty as the porn stars he so frequently jerked off to. Bra clasps were an impenetrable mystery to him, so he simply shoved the cloth of her bra cups down as far as they would go, freeing her soft, full breasts. Her mauve nipples were already semi-erect. Continuing to assault her face with his cock, Henry began kneading her tits, pinching and twisting her nipples. He tweaked them viciously, indulging a thirst for cruelty he had not known that he possessed.

He was close to blowing his load right there on her face, but in the back of his mind, he knew he would never have another chance like this. He stood up, realizing that he had already made up his mind. He walked back to the other side of the bed. On the nightstand, he spotted several condoms. Henry dimly acknowledged that he'd rather avoid whatever diseases this slut—or the guy who'd fucked her first—might have, so he grabbed one and clumsily rolled it on. He stumbled, collapsed on the bed. He clumsily positioned himself on top of her, and paused. Now or never... but his decision was made.

He grasped his dick, and began stroking her smooth, shaved pussy with the latex-covered head. She was still wet from her last encounter. He was so aroused it was difficult to breathe. With a single quick thrust, he buried his cock inside her warm, moist slit. Her body conformed to him, gripped him tightly. He pulled almost completely out and then slammed back into her. God! Henry had never felt anything like this. He pistoned back and forth, fucking her more and more roughly. Her breasts bounced and jiggled with every stroke and her head was jostled from side to side. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he yanked her head back, enjoying the rush that came from completely dominating her. Again, he pinched and twisted her nipples, then lowered his mouth to suck and bite them. He quickly found himself nearing climax, so he grabbed her ass cheeks in both hands for better leverage and began fucking her as hard and fast as he could. Tension gathered in his pelvic muscles and spread throughout the rest of his body, building until the need for release became unbearable. Then, in an explosion of relief and pleasure, he came, filling the condom with hot, sticky semen.

As the last exquisite aftershocks wracked his body, Henry collapsed on top of the still-unconscious coed. His body was filled with a satisfied lassitude. Between the alcohol still burning its way through his veins and the strong post-coital lethargy, he felt as though he could fall asleep right there. In the back of his mind, however, was the irritating certainty that what he really ought to do was get up, find his pants, and leave. Slowly, he returned to full consciousness. Then suddenly, he bolted upright, as the cold reality of what he had done became clear to him.

Rape.

His heart began to pound frantically, and his instinct for self-preservation kicked in. He slid the condom off of his semi-erect dick and tied the top of it. After scrambling into his boxers and pants, he concealed the condom (evidence) in his pocket and strode quietly to the door. Fear had burned off most of the effects of alcohol, but he still swayed slightly as he listened for any sign of people (witnesses) in the hallway. Hearing nothing, he quickly unlocked the door and escaped, shutting it tightly behind him. Henry was sure that his guilt was written all over his face, so he avoided looking at anyone as he left the party. Halfway home, he threw the used condom into a dumpster. Once inside his apartment, he took a hot shower and spent the night staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.

The following months had been unbearable. For days, Henry had been certain that the next knock on his door would be the police arriving to arrest him. He checked the university's student newspaper obsessively for news about the attack, but when the story broke, it made local, regional, and national news. A university senior, soccer star, and fraternity member was arrested and charged with drugging and raping a classmate during one of his frat's wild parties. Accompanying the article was a picture of the victim, the coed whose face was burned into Henry's memory. The case went to trial, the frat boy was convicted, and no mention was ever made about the possibility of a second attacker. As the weeks passed, Henry began to relax, to realize that he had gotten away cold, and to feel cautiously smug about the crazy, kinky, illicit way he had rid himself of virginity. In bad moments, he was still consumed by guilt over his treatment of his nameless victim, but she had never even known, he rationalized weakly, so what was the harm?

***

Nearly twenty years after the incident, Henry Morgan drove his expensive car into the driveway of his expensive townhouse. Reliving his first real fuck had not just restored his confidence in his ability to... handle women, it had also given him a painful boner. One of the perks of a high-paying job was the ability to retain the services of skilled, sexy, and very discrete call girls, and Henry had taken advantage of this resource many times over the past twelve years. He reached for his cell, and a few moments later, professional help was en route. Waiting for her to arrive, Henry smiled as he reflected that he knew just what fantasy she would be performing for him tonight.

aveugle
aveugle
1 Followers
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