The Elder

TRIGGER WARNING: this story contains reluctance/non-consent.

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As a child, you could find me nearly every week in church, faithfully next to my Grandmother, sitting quietly as the middle-aged Preacher quoted scripture and recited anecdotes from his own life experience. Was I listening? Let's put it this way, my thoughts weren't of applying the message to my life, nor something I wanted to share with my Grandmother.

And as an adult, I wouldn't describe myself as one who makes a point to be in church every week. So why today? Maybe it was conviction, a guilty conscience, the voice of God; call it what you will, but something was drawing me this morning. Now I find myself sitting between two talkative, adorable elderly ladies with white hair, feeling quite like a little girl again, a visitor name tag sticker clinging desperately to my shirt, just to the left of my plunging neckline.

A humorous one-liner from the sermon causes the entire congregation to erupt in laughter, which quickly subsides... all but mine; a couple extra giggles slip out and a few people look my way, laughing too, including you. As I calm myself, I catch your gaze, a couple rows up and in the section of pews to the left. At first, all I see are your eyes: dark, mysterious and powerful, like a hawk. The intensity of your focus makes me shiver visibly and the corner of your mouth begins to curl up. I lower my eyes, suddenly feeling warmth on my cheeks, as my gaze settles into my own cleavage, my large breasts starting to move with my rising breath and heart rate.

I know you're a hunter; I know I am prey, and I know you know it too. Suddenly my pussy is very wet. I glance back at you and your eyes are still on me, but that's when I notice your arm is around your wife. You know what I see, but it changes nothing. I look away and swallow hard. Reaching into my purse, I pull out the small glass bottle of frankincense essential oil and remove the lid. Holding it under my nose, I inhale deeply.

"You need to calm the fuck down!" I tell myself. I tip the bottle and a single drop falls onto my finger. I quickly swipe it across my forehead. "You shouldn't be lusting after man in church! A married one, at that! Ground those crazy emotions, right now!" I continue my internal, self-pep talk, while I recap the bottle and return it to my purse. I wait as long as I can but have to look at you again; god, your eyes, I might cum from your stare! A knowing smile lifts one corner of your mouth, and before I can suppress it, a submissive smile spreads on my face. I swallow hard and shake my head.

"Well, fuck." I murmur as I close my Bible, stuff my notebook into my purse and stand, easing out of the pew, past one of the nice old ladies. I make my way towards the back, trying not to be obvious when I glance your way. Your arm leaves your wife's shoulders and you stand. My breath quickens; the chase is on. I walk quickly to get out of the sanctuary before you can catch up, and see you calmly follow me, buttoning your suit coat as you walk toward the back.

I hurry for the women's restroom, trying not to squeal in fearful excitement; surely you wouldn't follow me in there! But you do, and since everyone is in the service, you simply lock the door behind you. All is quiet for a moment and then you call out to me as you slowly walk in front of the row of stalls, your dress shoes clicking on the hard tile of the floor.

"Come on out, Little One..." Your voice is deep, unnervingly sexy, and makes the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stand at attention, even as my pussy prepares to welcome you. I'm sitting on the toilet seat, one shaking hand pressed on the back of the cold, metal door, the other covering my mouth. I lean forward a bit and lock the stall door carefully before pulling my feet up so you don't see them if you look under the door. You push the first stall door open easily with two finger tips, it creaks a bit before hitting the side wall. I cover my mouth harder as if to keep even the softest whimper inside. But I know it's only a matter of time, you will find me.

The next door swings open... and the next... and the next... I am crying softly, listening to your impending footsteps and deep, controlled breaths.

"It's rude to giggle in church, only bad girls do that." You scold. "Weren't you taught proper behavior for the house of God?" Another stall door swings open, hitting the partition and making me tremble all the more. "So, are you a bad girl or a good girl?" I shake my head quietly, but I'm undeniably submissive and I can't help but to respond to such dominance. You're at my stall door. You push on it but it doesn't open. You sigh and tap the barrier between us. I whimper, my pussy so wet in anticipation my panties are starting to soak it up.

"Bad girl, or good girl?" You ask again. I sniffle loudly and sigh. "Hmm?" You push. I open my mouth to speak but close it again, repeating the sequence several times before I find my voice.

"A good... a good girl." I claim, quickly covering my mouth with my right hand. You moan and tap on the door once more.

"Then open this door and prove it." You shift your weight just beyond the barrier between us, your confidence is terrifying. My hand falls from my face and I shake my head wildly as if it will help me resist the urge to submit to you.

"No!" I cry. You knock firmly on the door. I jump, tears spilling down my cheeks as I cry softly.

"Come on, Good Girl, open the door for Daddy..." Your calm tone worries me. I whimper at the affectionate title you give yourself, and my eyes grow wide as my pussy waters and clenches hard. I take a deep breath and sigh.

"No..." I say softer, my resolve unsteady, rubbing my sweaty palms on my short skirt.

"I'm very patient, Princess..." Your voice is low and relaxed, but firm as fuck. I sigh loudly reaching for the lock, but I pull my hand back before meeting it, and cry harder than before.

"What... what are you going to do...?" I question. You draw a long breath and run two thick fingers along the gap between the door and partition as you exhale, making my clit throb at the similarity of that slit to my own.

"Open the door." You say again. I find myself extending my hand for the lock once more. This time, I touch it.

"God! What the fuck am I doing?" I whisper under my breath. You hear and respond.

"Submitting." I look up and catch your determined gaze through the crack. The intensity in your eyes pulls the plug on my perseverance. Fuck it; I'm toast. Click. I unlock the door and before I can finish gasping at what I've just done, you push it open and grab a handful of my short brown locks in one smooth, quick motion. I cry out as you pull me from the stall by my hair.

"Shh shh shh! Good Girls are quite!" You snarl. I'm crying so hard I cannot speak. I try to move where you lead to lessen the tension and pain in my scalp. "God, you are so wet; I can smell you already!" You laugh. "I thought you said you were a good girl? Do good girls get this wet from looking at an older man in church?" You chuckle loudly as you shove me into the biggest stall at the end of the row, then close the door behind us. I stumble on my way toward the tiled wall at the back of the stall and drop my purse.

"What do you want?" I ask, having calmed enough to talk through my tears. You smile widely and spin me around to face the wall.

"I think you know what I want." The palm of your big, strong hand travels up the back of my bare thigh, and your breath on my neck and cheek tell me just how close you are to my ear. "You say you're a good girl, so let's see." I hear your belt buckle being undone and your zipper go down. I push back and then against the wall, trying to get some kind of leverage from either direction, but your forearm across my shoulder blades won't let me gain any ground.

I gasp. "No! NO! Please not that!" I plead. You laugh again, flip up the hem of my skirt and grab the back of my black lace panties, yanking them down to my knees before guiding your thick and throbbing cock between my legs. I press my thighs together, but you smack my ass. God it stings, and I yelp at the pain. You lean close and growl in my ear.

"Open the fuck up." You demand, but tired of waiting, you place a foot between my heels and kick them side to side, forcing my legs to part. "Good girls do as they're told." You say, the disappointment in your tone slices at my heart, and I find I'm struggling between the emotions of a victim and a submissive. Fuck, I'm so confused!

I don't have much time to think though, as I barely sense your hot cock head at my moist pussy lips before the entire length of heat presses inside me. An animalistic sounds I've never even heard before, escapes my mouth as your tip hits my cervix, your thighs slamming into my ass.

I hear you moaning happily just over my shoulder, your free hand sliding up under my shirt and quickly releasing a large breast from my bra, palming it's warm flesh and massaging it deeply. Your body doing an excellent job of pinning me in place, you remove your forearm from my upper back and push your long fingers into my hair. You grip it tightly and pull my head back and lick my cheek. I whimper, fingers clawing at the tiles on the wall in front of me.

"Yes, that's it, bitch; take it like a good girl..." You start thrusting hard, fast, and deep, my body jerking with each one, a whiny whimper the only evidence of my discomfort. I brace myself on the wall with one arm and cover your hand on my breast with the other. I've never been pursued with such raw passion, and it's having quite an arousing effect.

"Oh god..." I moan, the friction in my cunt making my body forget I didn't want this; it's reacting as if I'm with a lover, not under attack. You notice and your hand abandons my sore breast, reaching down to my bare mound and finding my throbbing clit, aching for attention.

"Holy fuck, you're such a dirty little slut! I bet it won't take much for you to explode, will it?" You don't wait for an answer and start strumming my swollen nub with your thumb, pulling a loud, conflicted whimper from my lips, as my body begs you to continue. You feel my pussy tightening around your shaft and I try to control my breathing.

"Don't you dare! You'll cum when I tell you to!" You growl, leaving my hot twat, making me gasp as you pull me away from the wall. "Get on your fucking knees." Your hand in my hair leaves me no room to question your instructions, and I lower myself to my knees. With a strong nudge, you force me forward on all fours, and you quickly push back inside my cunt.

You adjust your grip and your hand moves from my hair to my neck, your long fingers curling towards my throat. You start hammering my pussy again as your hand on my neck squeezes just enough so I start to feel dizzy. You quickly return to your rhythm, and the friction builds faster.

"Oh god, oh god!" I moan, the pressure your cock is applying to my g-spot is intense. My orgasm is fast approaching, and you can feel it; you stop. It feels like you might even be holding your breath, like you know the slightest movement could set me off. Your fingers hover over my clit, I can feel their warmth, and hear you moan.

"God you're such a filthy whore..." you thrust again bringing me back to the edge. I gasp. "You want to cum?" Your question makes me nod as another thrust edges me once more. "Say it; I want to hear you admit it! Say 'I'm a filthy whore who deserves to be taken, ridden hard and put in her place.'" Another edging thrust. "Say it, bitch!" You coax and I groan, desperate for relief.

"I'm a filthy wh—" My sentence is cut short and I jump when you bark behind me.

"I can't hear you, slut!" I whimper as you thrust once more, a huge orgasm hovering just out of my reach. I try again.

"I'm a FILTHY whore, who deserves to be taken, ridden hard and put in her place!" I gulp a breath at the end of my quickly, sobbed claim. "Please, Daddy!" I beg as your next thrust goes deep, and your fingers connecting with my clit, push me over the edge. I scream as I buck and shudder, a satisfied smile spreading across my face, your throbbing cock continuing its assault on my dripping cunt.

Your hand leaves my neck and grips a bigger handful of my hair, pulling my head back just as you growl in victory, reaching your own climax, your hot load flooding my pulsing pussy to overflowing. The blood rushes back to my brain and my smile fades as I remember what week it is. I struggle to free myself from your hold.

"No, no, no, no!" I warn, clawing at the floor. "I'm fertile, oh GOD! I'm fertile!" Your hand leaves my clit and the forearm sensation across my back returns, pushing my chest to the floor. A hunter's victorious moan falls from your lips; you have caught and taken your prey.

"I know, I could smell it." You inhale through your nose to underscore your claim and you chuckle, holding me in place on my belly. "Now hold still! Feel my seed searching for your egg." I struggle, trying to not to smile. "Ah, you feel it..." I shake my head slightly, the cold tile floor making it incredibly hard to move.

"No! No I don't!" I lie, biting my lip. Your grip tightens on my hair, pulling enough to make me gasp.

"Don't you fucking lie to me, bitch, I can smell dishonesty, too." Your voice calms a bit. "You feel it, it's gonna find your egg so quickly..." You release my hair and start to stroke it instead. "Your womb is going to accept my child and nourish them, make them strong and healthy." I give up fighting, and relax under your weight, my silent tears pooling on the tiles near my smiling face. "Looks like you were right; you are a good girl."