The Ease Of It All

"Stay," I growled, "Quiet." And finally I reached into my vest, and pulled out the ten inch blade I'd bought at a second hand store, with cash. It was a knife, just like any other knife. Except this one was in my hands. "Or else."

I held the knife right below her eyes, and made sure she looked right down at it.

She burst into a fresh set of tears, and these ones were from fear. Her whole face contorted, and she sputtered when she spoke, "Please, don't..."

I laid the tip of the blade gently on her cheek, letting her feel the point, feel the sharpness. I didn't put any pressure on it. I didn't need to. "Behave."

"I'll scream," she threatened, but it felt more like a desperate grasp. At least her voice was low and quiet.

"And I'll slit your throat."

She looked up definitely at me. "People will come to help."

I looked down, like I was looking at the apartment below. "No one home." I looked at the curtains, to the suburbs beyond. "No one cares." I looked back at her. "Scream, and die. Quiet-- maybe I'll let you live. Maybe."

Maybe? That wasn't what I had originally intended, but-- yeah. I could take her life. It was mine, just like her body. I started to put a bit of pressure on the knife-- kept going, a dimple in her skin-- kept going, her eyes closed tight and pushing out tears-- kept going-- and there was a drop of blood. I pulled back, letting the drop roll onto the blade, and showed her.

"Maybe."

I stabbed the knife into the arm of the couch, so that it would always be in her line of sight.

I got up, confident that she'd stay put, at least for a little while. I saw the fear in her face. She was as unsure of her survival as I was.

I went into the bedroom, and grabbed all the pantyhose I saw. I looked wistfully at the clothes I had laid out for her. I had hoped to just overpower her, hurt her, break her spirit, make her co-operate. Get her to dress up my favorite outfit of hers. Fuck her in it. Tear it up. Cum on it. Ruin it. Stain in. Destroy it. But now she fought back, and I'd have to tie her up completely. I couldn't change her without untying her. Maybe one limb at a time, but-- fuck, she was making this so difficult. This WAS happening, one way or the other. I was taking my pleasure from her. No question about it. Why couldn't she just make it easier on both of us?

Not that there was anything wrong with what she was wearing now. It was a nice circular skirt, black, flared-- but too loose. I could flip it up, expose her, fuck her. But it was just too easy. I wanted her to wear the fitted purple miniskirt. So I could push it up her thighs, make it cling to her hips, force it up and over her ass. Really work for it.

The best laid plans, I suppose.

I came back, carrying the handful of pantyhose. They weren't silk scarves, but they were sturdy. It's funny, the fucking things will get a run if you blink at them, but they're nearly impossible to actually pull apart. Weird physics.

I took a moment to just look at her, bent over the couch, arms pulled in front of her, legs bound at the ankles. Bent over like that, her skirt did ride up nicely, the bottom of her ass just peeking out from under the hemline. She was wearing black panties. I wonder if the bra matched? For a short girl, her legs were long. Perfectly curved, perfectly shaped. I loved the way she walked, one leg proudly moving from under her skirt, then the other-- criss cross-- swaying hips. So sexy. Without her shoes, her legs didn't seem as long. The illusion of heels.

I sat on the floor behind her, and got to work. First step, tie the pantyhose around one ankle. A knot tight enough to be firm, not so tight as to cut off circulation. Not like she'll be able to kick her way out of it. I won't give her the leverage.

Her leg jerked, and I grabbed her ankle harder. She squirmed. "Please stop," she pleaded-- quieter at least. "Please stop-- I know what you want. You don't have to do this. I'll--" she paused. It was so cute how she could be confident and nervous at the same time. I always liked that about her when I eavesdropped on her conversations in public. "-- I'll give you a blow job. I'll even let you-- finish-- in my mouth if you want. You don't have to tie me up. Please."

"Let me, huh?" I said, musing over her words. "You wouldn't even let me buy you a drink the other day at the coffee shop."

She was silent for a moment. I could almost hear her mind racing. Funny, my heart skipped a beat, too. Almost-- almost-- as if she could say the right thing, right now-- maybe I'd feel bad about this.

"I'm sorry," she said at last, "I had people waiting for me."

And so much for that. I swatted her ass, hard. Loud. She let out a yelp. "We never met in a coffee shop," I growled at her. "We've never met. But I've always been there, watching you wrapped up in your little self absorbed life. Looking good for the world. Looking good for me. But you've never seen me before. Have you?"

Silence. I spanked her again. "Have you?"

"No!" she cried out, sniffling again, "I don't know you. I promise, I don't-- I won't tell anyone I saw you, or describe you or anything please just stop."

"Finally, some honesty," I said. "Too late, though. You had your chance not to be a silly lying little cunt." I pulled the knot tight around her other ankle.

Thank goodness the underwear was all she was wearing on her legs. I hated when she wore tights or anything else to obstruct the view of her legs. Some women needed them to tighten things up, to hide their veins and bruises. Not her. Fucking perfect. I looked up, could see right up her skirt-- her underwear was bunching up, her shaped cheeks right above me. I reached up-- no, not yet. Fuck, she was already trying to distract me.

I gave her a playful swat across the back of her legs. She let out a guttural yell, so I slapped her again.

"QUIET!" I growled-- and her cry became a forced, throaty, stifled mutter. She was trying. I didn't want to gag her. I didn't want anything to get in the way of her face or mouth when I came on it.

It ached to sit down like these in jeans. I was rock hard, so ready, pressing against the fabric. Come on, enough time wasting. I ran the pantyhose under the couch, looped around a spring, then back to her ankles. One at a time, I made slipknots. Then, finally, I loosened the lamp cord. Her legs were loosely bound, free for the briefest of moments.

I gave her other asscheek a spank. "Behave," I ordered, reminding her of my presence. I yanked hard on the slipknots, pulling her legs apart, wide open. Nice and wide. Ankles further than her shoulders. Perfect. I tightened the knots, binding her right to the couch. No wiggle room.

Then I did the same to her wrists-- one at a time, multiple bindings, just like I'd studied on the bondage websites. Each pantyhose was a counterbalance to the other, making any arm movement impossible.

Finally, she was in place. It was time to set up the scene.

I went back to the bathroom, and got two important things. My duffle bag, and the bathroom mirror. I carried them back to the couch, and she was just plain weeping now. Full on tears, mascara running off her face. Her body was twitching, trying to find a comfortable pose given her restricted movement. She'd settle into a groove, I was sure. Maybe I would prop her head up with a few pillows. Maybe.

I put the mirror by the TV, facing her. Facing us. I wanted to watch me raping her. This was too good to miss out on.

From the duffle back, three cameras and folding tripods. Older model digital cameras with custom firmware. No metadata, no location data. Fully anonymous. Perhaps filming my rape of her carried some risks, but those risks were far less than those of being a repeat offender. This was the one and only time I would do this. I wanted more than just memories.

"Cover my face," she whimpered, "Please."

I unfolded the tripod, talking to her as I went. "Nope. I want to see your ever reaction to what I'm going to do to you."

"I don't want to know-- to know I'm on film-- like this. Please?"

The tripod legs extended-- long, hard. What a metaphor. "Oh, but I need your face. You. Specifically. Because even after I'm done raping you, I want you to know I still have this--" I reached out a stroked her. "I'll treasure it. Watch it often. From every angle. Make the perfect edit of it. Jerk off to it, hundreds-- thousands of times. And really, you're being an altruist here. Put in a good performance, and you'll save some other poor innocent girl from getting raped because I needed to rekindle that spark."

Three angles-- behind, stage left. In front, stage right. And low angle looking up at her face-- to see her tears, her anguish, and the inevitable facials. Plus extra angles captured by the mirrors. It would be enough.

"And besides," I continued, "This is, let's say, insurance. If I hear you've been talking about tonight-- and believe me, I see and hear everything you say and do-- then a copy of my little movie will find it's way to your father. Along with explicit instructions on how I pulled it off so easily. And trust me--" I knelt down in front of her, "-- he'll appreciate it. He'll be the next one in your apartment, looking to reclaim daddy's sexy little girl."

As I balanced the tripod by her face, she sniffled, then spoke again. "Why?" she asked.

"Because I want to fuck you," I answered truthfully. "You're sexy."

"You can stop," she begged, "I'll strip for you. You can film that as much as you want. I'll-- I'll even play with myself."

"But I want to play with you," I said, getting a bit weary of this noise. I white balanced the camera, perfectly capturing the pale, lush and silky tone of her skin.

"Please, you haven't done anything yet, you can stop and go away and I won't tell anyone I promise, please..."

I twisted around, and slapped her again, for the third time in the same spot. Her head jerked to the side, then hung loose. My heart skipped until I heard her sniffle. Phew, maybe don't hit her that hard again. She was in an odd position, and I didn't want to snap her neck or anything. But she had to shut the fuck up. "This is happening," I said, "I don't want to gag you. I really don't. So if you make me gag you, I will make you suffer for it. A lot. Got it?"

She sniffled again. I reached up, and pulled the elastic from her hair. Her long brown locks fell down across her face, still so straight and silky and smooth fucking hell I love her hair. I grabbed a handful of it, and yanked hard, pulling her face up to mine. "Got. It?"

She nodded, and I let her go.

The third camera was in place. I walked around and hit REC on all three.

Finally time!

I had planned to start slowly. Expose her slowly, run my hands over her body, experience every inch of her. But I was so worked up now, so hard, so close to just exploding. I didn't want that for my first time fucking her. But that didn't mean my first load should just go to waste.

I knew I shouldn't do this-- I shouldn't take any more risks, but I had to do this. I had to use her mouth.

I walked around her, and positioned myself so that her head was between me and camera 3, on the floor, looking up at her. Leaning like this, held aloft by her arms spread to the side, she was just at the perfect height. I stood so I was in frame. I brushed her hair to one side, exposing her bruised and beaten face. And then slowly, I unzipped my pants, pulled them down, and kicked them off to the side.

Women always say they like men with big cocks. But those same women are stuckup bitches who don't give guys like me the time of day. How can they know my cock's big enough for them if they won't even talk to me? Well, their loss. I mean, I wasn't huge, not like those donkey monsters I've seen in porn. But I was big enough. Hold it with two hands. Just barely get thumb and finger wrapped around it. I'm not going to brag. I'm just going to put it to good use.

I took a step forward, and put it on her nose. A slow thrust forward, and slow pull back. I quivered with just that touch. So ready.

"Open your mouth," I said, and put my knife into frame. "If you bite, I'll slit your throat and throatfuck you while you die."

A moment of hesitation on her part-- was I going to have to hurt her more? Hit her? Cut her? I did like the thought of that. Then, finally, she obeyed-- parting her lips and just opening wide.

I grabbed a fistful of her hair, and pulled, lifting her face-- using her like a toy, maneuvering her mouth to my cockhead. Just her warm breath on my skin was enough to send a pulse of delight up my spine. This wouldn't take long at all. A risk, but a quick risk.

I moved her head into place, and put my cock in her mouth. It rested on her cheek-- my first feel of her warm insides. It was everything I'd imagined. Everything I'd thought about while masturbating, dreaming of her. This was all worth it.

"Close your lips," I whispered, and she obeyed. I was enveloped. I put the knife down on the couch, in her view, so she'd know I was serious. I rested my hand on her head, the other under her chin, and gripped her face like I'd grip the hips of a lover I was fucking from behind.

And fuck her I did. I thrust up into her mouth, rubbing along her tongue, her lips-- just enough to wet myself. Her mouth was so warm and wet. From all her crying? See, abusing her first was the right thing to do.

I pulled back, fully wetted, and slid back up. Further up this time-- but there was only so far I could thrust up without standing on my toes. I didn't want to be off balance. So instead, I pushed down on her head. Forced her down on my cock-- gentle, but firm. Down, then started to pull her head back up-- riding up my cock.

I got into a rhythm, push her face down towards my balls, pull it up to my head. I only dared to push her halfway down my shaft. Faster now. Harder now. I could almost feel the back of her throat, but didn't dare push into it. One of the downsides of being this long. I'd accidentally hit the back of a woman's throat before, and been admonished for it. Told off. But-- why was I obeying that inhibition now? What reason did I have for holding back?

She was mine to do with as I pleased!

I took a firm grip on the back of her neck, and pushed her down hard on my cock. I slammed into the back of her throat, and held her there. She gagged, hard, choking on my cock. Drool oozed from her pursed lips, dribbling down my cock and falling onto the couch. I held her there for another moment. Another gag. Then finally I yanked her hair, violently pulling her off me. I let her get a gasp of air.

Too bad she was at this angle. I'd love to fuck her throat. But then again-- she was bent over. What was stopping me?

I shifted positions so that I was in front of her face-- mindful not to block the shot. With my grip on her hair firm, I tilted her head so she faced forward. How obedient. How easy this was. I put my cock on her lips.

"You said you wanted to give me a blowjob," I told her, wiggling my cock on her face. "Here's you chance. Do it well. The sooner you wear me out, the sooner this is over."

And without any other warning or ceremony, I thrust as deep as I could into her. Past her lips, past her tongue, right down her long, tight throat. I pushed harder and deeper until her nose touched my stomach.

She convulsed, and gagged hard. I may have been cute before when I described choking her with my cock, but this was the real deal. I could feel her throat tightening around my intrusion, plugging her, her body desperate to gag me out. More waves of saliva poured from her mouth, her eyes welling with tears, her face turning red. I gripped her hair tight, holding her in place, fighting against her convulsions. Then, with short strokes, I started fucking her throat. I moved my dick around in her throat-- rubbing myself about in it. So hot, tight, alive with gagging and fighting. My cock started tingling, welling up. This was fucking amazing, and I wasn't going to last long at all.

At the last possible moment, I pulled out, held her head in one hand, my cock in the other, and came on her face.

It was a hard, violent spurt-- built up for days in anticipation. I fought all my inhibitions... so many harpy voices in my head... don't get it in my hair... don't get it in my eyes... ewwww... and aimed straight for her cute little face.

The first blast hit her right in the eye, and she recoiled. It splashed across her face, the second spurt jetting out, arcing over her head and landing in a gobby streak in her long hair. My vision blurred, my knees weakened, and I dumped the rest of my cum on her face. It dribbled down her forehead, pooling in her eyes, smearing her cheek, mixing with the gobs of saliva I'd fucked from her throat.

She was still coughing and gagging as I took a half step back, my head a buzz with the post-cum fuzzies. Her eyes were closed tight, her face scrunched in disgust, crying.

For the first time, I looked at her without sex on the brain and cum in my balls. I looked at her as she was, not just as I saw her. A girl. I'd broken into her apartment, attacked her. Beaten her. She was frightened, tied up, captured, terrorized. Afraid for her life. And now well and truly raped. I'd violated her, just because I wanted to. Because I could, right or wrong be damned. And I'd only begun what I'd planned to do to her.

A gob of cum ran along her lips, and she sputtered and spat it out.

Whatever calm had come over me suddenly vanished in a wash of rage at the sight. "Don't you EVER spit that out again!" I growled at her. I grabbed her face, and wiped the cum from her eyes. "Look at me." I shook her head. "LOOK AT ME!"

She opened her eyes, barely, blinking away the remnant of my ejaculation. Her eyes were red. I'd gotten her good. I shoved my cum-soaked fingers into her mouth.

"Look me in the eye and swallow," I commanded, squeezing her face harder. She closed her lips, and her eyes. "LOOK AT ME!"

Her eyes snapped open, welling with tears-- she looked up at me, eyes wide, terrified. Her head still hung low, her eyes rolled up to see me. She sucked on my fingers, her tongue licking, lapping, and then slowly, and deliberately, she swallowed. I saw her throat work my cum down inside her. I pulled my fingers out, and stroked her hair-- being careful not to upset the nice streak of cum I'd laid in it.

"Good." I said, relieved I didn't have to hurt her more just yet. I did want a moment to breath before I got myself worked up again. I knelt beside her for a good, close look. I'd memorized all the curves and nooks of her face from photos. I'd cummed on pictures of her. But nothing captured the reality of the moment as a good, close look. The way it pooled, the way it gather. The way her skin glistened. It even covered part of the bruise.

"You look so much more beautiful with my cum on your face," I told her, and it was the truth. "Show the camera."

She obediently moved her head side to side.

"I'm going to leave you glazed, let you enjoy it on your skin."

"You're done?" she asked, hopefully, looking up at me with her cum-stained face.

I almost laughed at the naivety. "Oh nononono, you silly little cunt. That was just to relieve some tension while I got ready for all the other ways I'm going to rape you. There's so many places left for me to cum in, and on. So many more of your clothes to ruin, and body parts to glaze, and holes to fuck. I'm going to rape you-- it feels so good to say that outloud-- rape you. Hard. I'm going to rape you until I'm satisfied, and there's nothing you can do about it. You're mine to rape until I say otherwise. We have all night. We have all weekend. I'm going to rape you until you're completely ruined. And if you even think about doing or saying anything to the contrary, I will hurt you. Badly. And then I'll just rape broken little you some more. So just shut your fucking cunt mouth up, and do what I say, and maybe this won't turn into a rape/murder. Got it?"