Taking Anna for His Own

Why was she even here? This part of her life was over, it was done. She supposed she had to make that totally and finally clear to him, then maybe he could move on the way she had.

She thought he had moved on, actually. They had barely spoken these past six months. And they hadn't been together in nearly two years. But, then he called, 'please meet me at our old spot, I need to talk to you.' It was important, he also said.

Anna hugged her knees while she sat on the steps outside the house, so still and empty like it had been for ages. She didn't know if the lady who owned it had visited for the past few years, the area seemed almost abandoned.

The grass would have been much taller if he hadn't been keeping it trimmed, but she couldn't help but notice he had gotten lazy on pruning the pine trees back. They seemed to be encroaching more fully into the tiny lawn, almost creating a wall of greenery between the house and the street.

The whole area seemed somehow menacing. The empty feeling and the total isolation. She briefly wondered about the danger of meeting him here, but pushed the thought aside. This was Wayne, after all. He wouldn't hurt her.

Wayne was older than her - much older. She had been enamored with him from the first time she saw him. He was tall, over six feet, and his golden-brown hair had quite a few grays in it, just the way she liked it. He sometimes sported a beard, but tended to shave it in the summer.

He was rugged, too, he worked with his hands and had a physique to match. His work kept him in shape, with a toned chest, strong legs and almost zero stomach. She remembered sneaking glances over at him, feeling a warm desire inside her. But what she hadn't realized at first was that he was had been watching her too.

20 years his junior, Anna was a short girl whose physique wasn't anything like his. She was pudgy and soft, not fat certainly but she carried more than a few extra pounds. Her hair was similar to his, a golden-brown, sans the grays. Her eyes were a piercing bright green.

They had worked together once, that's how they met. Years of flirting went by, getting more and more intense each month. She couldn't remember the exact moment, but there was a day when they both realized, looking at each other, that the tipping point was behind them. They both knew at the moment, the other felt the same way.

Of course, they'd had to keep their relationship hidden. Because of their work, and also because Wayne had a girlfriend. He broke up with her six months into...whatever they had, and Anna had been willing to risk work finding out - it's not like they were doing anything wrong, two consenting adults - but Wayne was concerned. So, to protect Wayne, she had agreed. But it had bothered her. They had nothing to be ashamed of - so why did it have to stay hidden?

A crunching sounds caught her attention - he had arrived. It was odd that she had beaten him, the whole time they were together he always made it first. It had made her feel wanted. Special. He got out of his truck and slammed the door. He had a bag in his hand. That must have been what delayed him. Maybe he grabbed lunch.

"I'm glad you showed," Wayne said, smiling at her.

"I said I would. What did you want to talk about?"

"In here," he said. "I don't want to talk outside."

He unlocked the door and stood aside, letting her through first. She stepped in under his arm and found her nostrils assaulted with the smells of pine and dust. Clearly, no one had been inside for a while. She wondered if anyone other than the two of them had been here.

She heard him step in behind her and close the door. And lock it. The sound made her nervous, because it brought up old memories. Not unpleasant ones, just old ones. Ones she had left in her past.

She turned to look at him. "Okay, now what did you want to talk about?"

"No, upstairs," Wayne said, pointing to the spiral steps. She frowned.

"No, I'd rather not. We can talk here."

Wayne grimaced. "Please? It'll be easier upstairs."

She paused. Why? There was nothing upstairs. Just a bathroom and a bedroom. And lots of memories. She shook her head. "No, I don't feel comfortable up there. Let's sit in the living room." She walked towards the couch, remembering the memories this room held. Far fewer of them, thankfully.

After a moment Wayne followed. She sat down on the couch, but he stayed standing. He seemed agitated, his hands clamping down on the back of the chair, then pacing back and forth, banging the top of the counter. Suddenly he turned towards her.

"This isn't working," he said.

"What isn't?"

"This. Us," Wayne said. "Not being together. I want it back. What we had."

She sighed. So much for being past all this. "I'm sorry, but I thought I made myself clear. We had a lot of fun together, but I'm in a different place now. As wonderful as this," she said, gesturing between them, "was, it's not something I want anymore."

Wayne looked pained. She stood up, and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry if it hurt you, but I thought you understood. I don't want to hide anymore," she paused, then spoke softer. "It's been over two years since we've been together. It's clear our lives have gone different directions and this is not possible anymore."

She turned towards the exit. She hated hurting anyone, and it would undoubtedly be easier on him if she left quickly. Though she was still deeply attracted to him, she had moved on, and it was time he did too. She was about halfway to the door when it happened.

His hand grabbed her arm in a vice like grip, twisting her back towards him. His other hand grabbed her chin, almost totally enveloping her jaw. He held her face inches from his, breathing heavily.

"Wayne!" she said, panicked. "What the hell! Let go!" She struggled in his hold. "You're hurting me!"

His grip didn't slacken. "Not possible?" he growled. "Anything is possible. And I'm not done with you." His eyes blazed, a dark and hungry look.

A sick, sinking feeling ran through her. "Let me go." She said. She tried to speak firmly, but her voice shook.

"No," he replied simply. "We're going upstairs." He let go of her face and started pulling her towards the stairs. She pulled back, stretching the skin of her arm under his grip. She knew she'd have a massive bruise there, but it didn't matter, she had to get away.

He growled and tossed her forward against the stairs, which meant another bruise was going to bloom on her shin. Before she could react he grabbed her hair, grasping it in his fist close to the scalp and yanking on it.

She couldn't help it, she cried out. "Stop it! You're hurting me!" tears sprang to her eyes. What was going on? This wasn't like him, not at all. Wayne started up the stairs, dragging her along with him. She scrambled to keep up, feeling strands of her hair being pulled out with every step he took. She stumbled down the hallway, half blind from the tears the pain was causing as he heaved her along.

Suddenly, she was tossed from his hold and she fell on her hands and knees on the bed. She scrambled backwards, but he was already there. He pushed her forward and pinned her down, her face mashed into the bed and his knees on either side of her. His hands were on top of her forearms. Totally pinning her, he learned down towards her ear.

"Do you understand now, my little slut?" he whispered, his hot breath on the side of her face.

She struggled against him. "I'm not a slut!" she said. "Let me GO!" she wasn't sure if he could even understand her, her voice was so muffled. But even as she shouted that she wasn't a slut, being this close to him, no matter the circumstances, she could feel herself getting wet. She could feel her desire building, but she had to ignore it. This was over, she had moved on. Hadn't she?

And then he laughed - a cold, cruel laugh that sent a shiver up her spine. It was like he knew what she was feeling.

"Oh the things I could do to you," he said softly, lifting one hand off her arms and brushing it across her hair. She shivered, but she didn't know if it was from fear or desire. "I know what you like. And I know you like this. You like being forced, and used..." his hand wrapped slowly around the back of her neck. "You like being treated like the little fuckslut you are." He said quietly.

Anna was breathing heavily, trying to maintain control. She knew now she should never have come, but she never dreamed in a million years he would do something like this. How could this be happening? She knew she needed to fight, even if part of her didn't want to. She would struggle, and yell. If she fought hard enough he'd decide she wasn't worth it, and let her go.

"I know what you're thinking, fuckslut," Wayne said. "And I would advise against it."

His hand grasping her arm let go, and his weight came off her. She knew he was standing now. She didn't move.

"Get up."

She obeyed, backing up slowly, still facing the bed. Once standing, she didn't move.

"Turn around."

She did so, turning slowly. The phrase "no sudden moves" was in her head. She stared at the floor.

"Look at me."

She moved her eyes up, taking in his body. Even with what was happening, he was so attractive. As she continued to move her eyes up she felt stabs of panic and fear threatening to rip at her as she struggled to maintain control. She tried to force the fear down. She needed to be clearheaded, she needed to think if she was going to get away. She did want to get away, right? She wasn't even sure anymore...memories were flooding back. Memories of how he'd made her feel. The desires he'd created in her, the mind-blowing orgasms...then, as her eyes found his, she felt suddenly locked in place.

The malice and desire in his eyes made her shake with desire. She swallowed in fear, totally overwhelmed by his need. He stepped close, pressing his body against hers. Her eyes were still locked in his, looking up now. He brushed her hair back, forming a ponytail.

"Obey me, and I will not hurt you," he said. "Do everything I say, when I say it, and you will not be harmed." His hand gripped her ponytail. "But disobey me...question me...or refuse me..." he yanked back, pulling her towards the floor, causing her to wince and her body to arch backwards. He leaned over her. "And you will regret it."

With that, he pushed her back onto the bed. She fell, staring at him. Her body was on fire. She felt more turned on that she'd ever felt before. She couldn't let him know what he was doing to her. She had to get away, that was the right thing to do!

Wasn't it?

Wayne stood back, looking at her. "Stand up," he commanded.

She stood, shakily.

"Take your clothes off."

She shook her head. As turned on as she was, she wasn't going to make this easy. Her answer was no. But to her horror, he smiled.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

With that, he strode across the room and grabbed her shirt. Her pulled his pocket knife and flicked it open, and with a sudden, sure movement, he brought the fabric up to his blade and with a horrible tearing sound it was on the ground in two pieces. As he reached for her skirt she struggled.

"No! No, stop, I'll do it!" she cried. She didn't want her clothes destroyed! Wayne paused, pulling his knife back.

"I'm waiting."

Hands shaking, she unbuttoned her skirt and pushed it down. Wayne leaned down, grabbed it and tossed it on the chair behind him. He flicked the knife towards her, indicating she should lie down on the bed. She did so, never looking away from the blade. She felt so exposed in just her bra and panties.

Wayne gazed down at her, his eyes taking in her body. She had been here so many time before, but this time it was different. Every other time, she'd felt desire for him. She wanted him to take her. This time...she didn't just want him to, she needed him to. And that horrified her.

"Please, Wayne...don't do this." She said, fighting her instinct to beg him to take her. "Please, just let me go."

"Oh my dear little slut, we are far beyond that," he said, resting the knife against her exposed stomach. "Do you really think, after all the trouble I've gone through, I'd just let you leave without having my fill of you?" he leaned over her. "Do you honestly think that I'd let you get up and walk away, while your tight little pussy, your dirty asshole, and that succulent mouth were still untaken?"

Her heart hammered. Fear and adrenaline. She fought against it, because those two combined threatened to overwhelm her system. She had to keep fighting. But the knife blade on her skin was intoxicating.

Wayne gently pulled the knife upwards, holding just the edge of the handle so the point of the blade would running along her exposed skin. Up her stomach, slowly...

When he reached the bottom of her bra, he tilted the blade back and pushed upwards with his palm, making her gasp as he freed her breasts. He grinned wickedly, because he could see how erect her nipples were. She turned her head away, ashamed. She couldn't control that reaction, it wasn't her fault, but it horrified her.

"Little fuckslut likes this, doesn't she?" Wayne said.

"No, I don't," she replied.

"Little fuckslut answers to her name, so I think she does."

She squeezed her eyes together. How had she let this happen?

Suddenly her eyes flew open in shock. Wayne had grabbed both her breasts, gripping them tightly in his hands. His thumb and forefinger pinched her nipples, and she gasped.

"No!" she said. "Stop!"

"Not a chance," he said with a laugh. Suddenly he was between her legs, tearing at her panties. She desperately tried to stop him, to cover herself, but in mere seconds the fabric was in pieces strewn across the bed. He pinned her arms to her sides, holding her thighs open with his knees while she struggled against him.

"Such a beautiful little cunt," he said. "Ripe and ready...and it looks so wet, mmm, my little fuckslut says no but she clearly means yes doesn't she?"

She could feel her pussy twitching, wanting him, but she couldn't let it happen. She struggled, knowing she had to stop him no matter how much she might want it. She fought with every ounce of strength she had.

But it might as well have been nothing. He barely had to tighten his grip. He grasped both her arms and pinned them behind her head, holding them with one massive hand. He reached over and she saw he'd brought that bag he carried with him. He pulled out a rope.

She knew then that this wasn't a sudden urge. This wasn't an uncontrolled, rash decision made just because she'd rejected him.

This was preplanned.

He used the rope...the one he'd brought with intent...to bind her hands. He tied the other end to the headboard, pulling it tight. She could barely move the upper half of her body.

She continued her struggles, not giving up. His hands now free, he trailed them down her quivering body towards her most intimate area. They lingered over her breasts, flicking the nipples and gently squeezing them. She felt her pussy contract at his touch, and was filled with self-loathing. She heard him chuckle and she knew he had seen it.

"Bad girl," he whispered. "But such a good girl too."

Then, his fingers reached her. She froze, staring into his eyes with panic.

"Don't."

He smiled and inched his fingers closer.

She tried to close her legs but he was still holding her open. He dug his knees into her thighs, forcing them open wider and making her wince in pain. His fingers trailed around the outer lips, gently sliding them towards the inner ones. One finger flicked upwards, rubbing her clit.

She couldn't help it. His touch was expert, he knew just what to do to excite her. She fought against her body; it was responding to him against her will. She knew her clit was swelling, her inner lips parting. She could feel herself getting even wetter.

Wayne leaned over her, bringing his face inches from hers. She stared into his eyes, terrified and ashamed. He stroked one finger across her face, from her temple to her jaw, then pushed his finger inside her mouth. She could taste her wetness on him.

"Does my little fuckslut like the way she tastes?" he whispered to her.

He pulled his finger away, moving it down her body again as he moved back down as well. Down her collarbone...between her breasts...across her stomach...just above her clit. Her body twitched with need.

"You want me," Wayne said, looking at her.

Anna stared into his eyes. "Yes," she whispered.

"Then ask me," he said.

"Ask you?" she said. "I...I don't think I can."

Wayne smiled, and teased the end of her clit, making Anna gasp and strain against the rope binding her.

"Ask me," he said again, still touching her.

She hated him for making her say it, and she hated herself for not being strong enough to overpower him. She hated herself for wanting him, needing him, so badly and being so easily controlled...

She closed her eyes. "Please...fuck me," she whispered.

She heard him chuckle. "Say it again, little fuckslut," he hissed. "And be more specific. Would you like me to fuck you with my fingers?"

She swallowed. "Please fuck me...with your cock." Her voice was barely audible.

"Louder." He said

"Please fuck me with your cock." She said.

"Again."

"Please fuck me with your cock."

"Beg."

"Please...please..." she felt the tears leaking through her shut eyelids. She couldn't bear it. "Please fuck me, I'm begging you to fuck me with your cock."

"So you want to feel me inside of you?" he said.

"Yes," she responded.

She felt him get off the bed. For a second, she thought he was letting her go. Had her begging been enough? She opened her eyes.

His cock, massive and erect, was mere inches from her face. He had opened his pants up and was staring down at her, knowing he was in complete control.

"Suck it first, fuckslut," he said. "Make it nice and wet."

She loved sucking cock, and he knew it. Without even thinking, she opened her mouth and Wayne pressed his cock inside with a groan. She tried to take it all at once, he was filling her mouth totally and her bound hands made it impossible for her to control it. He slipped into her throat and she suppressed her urge to gag. God it felt so good!

He began pulling back...and forward again. Again and again. Slipping in and out of her throat till she lost count. He was fucking her face, she breathed through her nose as best she could and tried not to think about anything other than the feel of his massive shaft. Suddenly he pulled away with a loud popping sound and he grabbed her by the back of the neck.

"Fuckslut," he hissed at her. "I knew you'd obey me soon enough. Look at the little tramp. I haven't even been holding you and your legs are still spread open nice and wide while I fuck your pretty face. You pretend you don't want it but you do, don't you? You can't wait for me to fuck you!"

She barely shook her head, but didn't speak. She couldn't trust herself not to tell him the truth. He stood up and shoved his pants the rest of the way off, kicking them across the room. He pulled his shirt off, revealing his hairy, toned chest. Oh how she wanted him!

With a quick movement he was between her legs again. Reaching under her, he cupped her ass with his hands and lifted her slightly.

"Are you ready for me, little fuckslut?" he said. Before she could answer...if she was even supposed to...his cock was pressing against her pussy and slipping inside.

She was so wet he met no resistance. Her body obeyed him, even as her mind screamed for him to stop. He pushed until he was completely buried inside her, his balls pressed right against her sensitive skin. She had forgotten how big he was, he filled her, stretching her insides and making her twitch.

It was just like before, with her mouth. He started fucking...harder...and faster. She moaned. She couldn't help it, and she hated herself as soon as she did it. He grinned down at her, enjoying his prize. He'd won, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. She wanted it. And he knew she wanted it.