("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2005. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Andrej by Tess Darcy (urbangypsyt@gmail.com) *** Tess gets home from a long day at work to find a man in her apartment who proceeds to "rape" and abuse her. (MF, nc, rp, bd, spank, oral, anal) *** Turning the key in the lock, I think something feels slightly off, like when you walk down the block but can't shake the feeling that someone is paying you way too much attention. I look around, up and down the hallway and see everything seemingly normal. Shaking my head, I take the key out and give the door a shove with my foot, quickly enter and lock up behind me. I am a city girl after all. My shoulder aches from carrying my laptop and handbag, so I set them down on the kitchen counter and then I shrug off my coat and drape it across one of the dining room chairs. Returning to the counter top, I sigh, and with one hand massaging my stiff neck, begin to sort through the accumulated mail with the other. What I notice right before he grabs my neck in the crook of his arm, pushing me back against the kitchen wall, is the way the air suddenly feels inexplicably icy. Then all I can think about is being able to breathe again. With his arm still wrapped around my neck, he turns me around so that I am facing the wall while easing his grip slightly. My breath returns but my heart pounds harder in my chest. "Stay calm," he says, "and quiet." As if I could think of doing anything else but just that. I don't think I could find my voice if I tried. I force myself to concentrate on just breathing, in and out, slowly, deeply, trying to still my heart. "I don't want to hurt you," he says so composedly that I almost believe him, "I want you to turn around slowly when I let go, don't say anything." Though he lets his arm drop and I can't see him from my position facing the wall, his proximity is undeniable. My apartment feels as if it has shrunken to a space no larger then the three square feet the two of us inhabit. Slowly, as slowly as if I am moving with the utmost caution through a completely darkened room, I turn around. He immediately presses me back against the wall, his hands this time pushing against my shoulders, his hips pressing against mine. I see him now for the first time, so much larger then my five foot one frame, even in my four-inch heels, he dwarfs me, but his eyes are where mine are drawn. Dark and inky, they have a depth I don't expect. I can't look away. "Please, please take whatever you want and leave, just leave," I say as softly as I can, never taking my eyes from his. He replies in kind, eyes locked to mine, "I intend to do just that, but you see, what I want, what I came for is you." My knees get immediately weak and if it weren't for his hips pressed to mine, I think I would fall to the floor. "Now, I told you not to speak, didn't I," he says shaking his head, "you need to learn how to listen. It will be my privilege to teach you. First though I am going to let go of you, but you don't move, not an inch, and this time you do not speak. Do you understand?" His eyes have become even more shadowed as he speaks to me. Without meaning to, I find myself simply nodding. He takes a step back, his arms fall to his sides and he looks at me from this new vantage point. "Stay," he says and as he begins to open kitchen drawers, my fear grows. I watch his back, taking in as many details as I can, noting that his tight jeans and grey zipped sweatshirt cover a taut and lean six-foot plus frame, that his tousled hair is as dark as his eyes. His casual, street type clothing seems incongruous given his serene and articulate speech. When he returns his attention to me, I see him clutching a roll of duct tape that he absently tucks into the pocket of his sweatshirt. The sight of him reaching for the poultry shears makes me wonder if I should be fearful or thankful that he didn't chose one of the knives. My breathing gets shallower and shallower as panic causes adrenaline to course through my body. I know that I will cease to breathe at all in another second. He seems to sense my building anxiety and before I can pass out or run for the door, he is grasping me again. This time he lets both his hands first assault my breasts and then moves lower, feeling my crotch through my skirt, as a moan escapes his full pouted lips. "Now we're going to go into the bedroom. I'll be right behind you. Don't make me hurt you, I'd prefer not to," he says so softly and seriously that my entire body shivers in response, "Walk and not a word." He puts a hand gently on my back and guides me to where he wants me to go. He follows me through the bedroom door and closing it behind him, steps in front of me and sits down in the corner wing chair. "Tell me your name," he states matter-of-factly. "My name is Tess," I manage to force out. "Take off your blouse, Tess," he says cementing his intentions in my mind, "you'll find it best to respond quickly to what I ask of you." His eyes stay fixed on mine, even as I open button after button of my burgundy silk blouse. I idiotically think of the moment I first saw it and tried it on and of how soft and cool it felt against my skin. Seeing it, so thoughtlessly dropped in a pool at my feet, seems to somehow reinforce the gravity of my situation. Even more startling to me is the fact that though my blouse is off and my breasts exposed in my chemise, he continues to look at my face. I feel him drinking in my fear and being perversely encouraged by it. His face is calm and unlined with a look as serious and as dark as any I have ever seen. There is a heavy shadow on his face, so very dark against his fair skin. I watch him as intently as he watches me, trying to will him to simply leave though I know with the core of being, that this will not be the case. "Now the skirt, unzip it, let it fall and step out of it," he continues. I follow his instructions quickly and to the letter. I now stand before him in only my sheer chemise, lacey black panties, black thigh high stockings and burgundy patent leather stiletto pumps. This time he lets his eyes drop and take in my entirety. Nodding absently, he seems pleased. Is this good or bad, I wonder? "Come here and stand in front of me. Turn around. Yes, just like that. Put your hands behind your back and lock your fingers together. Good girl." The sound of tape being ripped from the roll immediately precedes him grabbing my wrists and encircling them tightly with the thick silvery length. The sound of his belt being unbuckled and his zipper slowly opening follows. He seems to be in no rush, as if he has all the time in the world. When he turns me around to face him, he is completely naked. Though his body is tight and lean, his completely engorged cock is where my focus seems to remain. I am too fearful to look into his eyes now, seeing how the evidence of my submission excites him, I find myself not having the faintest inkling of what I can or should do. He sits back in my chair, "Kneel in front of me. Suck my cock." I can't help but hesitate and immediately know I've made a mistake, as he rises and grabs my long hair at the base of my neck, holding my head back, he pushes me to my knees. "Don't ever make me have to tell you anything twice again. Now suck it." Tears well in the corners of my eyes, but I use the considerable will that I still manage to possess and I repeat over and over in my head – I will not cry, I will not. My hands bound behind my back have me confused and off balance and I struggle to maneuver his erection over my lips. Once it is fully in my mouth, so warm and hard, I decide to give him the best head I have ever given, hoping that this will hasten his orgasm and end my ordeal. I pool as much saliva into my mouth as I can and soak his cock in it, allowing my mouth to flow smoothly over his thick shaft. I try to use all skills I've mastered over the years, remembering to keep it wet, wet, wet, to repeat the same movements over and over, and then switch, from moving up and down his entire to length to sucking greedily at the head and switch again to licking with the flat of my tongue. When I take his balls, one at a time, into my mouth and let them roll over my tongue, he grunts loudly and grabs my head, guiding me back to his shaft for a short time. I think he is about to explode, when he suddenly shouts, "Stop. Get up." I do, I have already learned not to disobey him. He rises as well, grabs me by my neck, terrifying me, and shoves me onto the bed on my belly. "I'm going to cut the tape off your wrists now. But only so that I can have the pleasure of seeing you bent over your bed, your legs spread wide and your hands opening your ass to me." As he cuts the tape and rips it off my wrists, I cannot restrain my tears. They are few but they burn my face as sharply as if they were acid. He rattles off his instructions - "Stand up. Go over to your desk. Bend over it. Lift that thing you have on over your waist. I want your ass in the air, so stand on your toes and lay your cheek on the desk; I want to see your face. Hold on to the edge of the desk." He takes a step or two back and objectively surveys the scene. "Yes, perfect just like that," he comments as he walks over, leans his body over mine for a moment and tenderly tucks the hair that has fallen in front of my face behind my ear. He straightens up and with his left hand gripping the desk for extra support; he slaps my ass hard with his right. I think to myself, that yes, I can handle this, it stings, but it's not so very bad. Don't cry, just stay as still as you can, it will be over soon. I am so very wrong. He lands blow after blow, sometimes alternating from one cheek to the other, sometimes landing a seemingly endless series of strikes in the same spot. All the while he watches my face intently; I try desperately not to look at him. I want to hide my face, bury it in the desk so he can't see, but I am afraid to move, to provoke even more of his wrath. Finally, finally he stops and steps back again to inspect his work. My knees are so weak, my body so spent, I start to crumble to the floor but before I can, he's over me. "Don't you dare move, I am far from done. You will stay standing, you hear me." He never shouts. His tone has always been calm and devoid of emotion. It frightens me enough to overcome my weakness and I grip the edge harder, forcing myself to remain erect as he desires. He walks away, and with my head tilted against the desk I watch him pick his jeans up off the floor and remove his belt from the loops. It is well-worn brown leather about an inch and a half thick, ending in a simple gold buckle. No, no, please no, I think. I am sure I could not possibly stand it if he were to hit me with that now. Though I can't see it, I can feel how very red my ass is and I can't believe he would chose to inflict more pain upon it. Instead he gently lets the belt slide along my body. He starts at my arm, following the curve where my elbow is bent and letting it drag smoothly over the hair at nape of my neck and then down along the other arm. My body tingles at the unexpected gentleness and tenses at the same time, waiting. The belt skims over my silk chemise down my spine, the soft fabric flowing where the belt guides it. I feel it cover my ass, calming the tenderness with its soft, coolness. My legs are next, first the left and then the right. He pulls away from me. "Reach behind you and lift that up. I want that ass again……Yes that's good. Now spread your legs wider, no, wider. Fine." His orders come out in a staccato manner, fired crisply, as I comply with one, the next follows directly. As always, I feel his eyes taking in my abject humiliation. I haven't yet cried, I reassure myself, he doesn't know, he can't know just how insignificant I feel. When he walks closer and closer to me, I am stunned to feel him kneeling between my legs, his tongue begins to lap at my exposed ass and dip down into my pussy. I moan at the unexpected pleasurable sensation. "Hmmmm, you like that, don't you, bitch," he pauses to say, "you'll love it when my cock is in your ass, won't you." I shudder involuntarily at the thought of his manhood inside me that way; no one has ever, ever done that to me. But it seems he will have whatever it is he wants of me. He goes back to the business of licking my ass vigorously and I feel his tongue enter my tight hole before he stands up again and places the tip of his cock there and pushes. I see stars at the pain; nerve endings scream and as he continues to push harder and harder, he whispers in my ear, "Push yourself onto to it." My knuckles have turned white from grasping the desk so tightly. I resign myself to do it, just push back and get it done with, despite the fear and the pain. As I push back, I finally feel the head of his cock break past my anus and the pain changes into something else. His head totally inside me, he pushes the rest of his cock in further and further until I feel his balls against my ass and know he is fully inside me. He moves the hair from my neck and kisses me there. I have no time to register how stunned I am at this unexpected tenderness because as soon as his lips leave my neck, he proceeds to fuck my ass vigorously. I can't catch my breath; I am so shocked at the pain of his erection impaling me over and over again. Finally he pulls out of me and I feel the warmth of his orgasm as his ejaculate spurts out onto my back and ass. I sink to my knees, no longer caring if he sees me as weak. I am weak at this point. I've never felt weaker. My chin is tucked into my chest, my hands cover my face and I sob as silently as I can. His hand seizes my hair, so tightly that I realize he must have wrapped it around his fist, and he pulls me up and tosses me onto the bed. This time he doesn't tell me what position to take, he forces my body where and how he wants it. I am on all fours on my bed, my face pushed into my pillow, and my ass high, he lifts the chemise up and over my head, so that I am now totally naked. "I'm thirsty," he says, "I'm going to get a drink. I'll trust you not to move, not because I trust you, but because you know how much you'll regret it if you do. Tell me you'll be a good girl. I want you to say it." The hoarse sound of my voice startles me as I reply, "I'll be good." "Yes, you will, " he says and he opens the door, looks around, goes back to my desk and lifts the portable phone from it's cradle, "I wouldn't want you tempted to do something stupid." He walks out. After a moment, I hear the refrigerator door open and close and his footsteps getting nearer and nearer to me, until he again appears in the doorway calmly sipping a bottle of Poland Spring water. He sits on the bed, brings the bottle to my mouth, "Drink," he says. I gratefully take a sip feeling the wet coolness against my dry raspy throat. He rises off the bed and looks around my room as if searching for something specific. His eye falls on a calendar and he takes it off desk and places it on the bed in front of me. "Close your eyes, point to a day," he says, "now open them, what day is it." Looking at the calendar in front of me I see my finger on January 27 and tell him so. "Good," he says, "the more the better. You will be getting 27 lashes with the belt. Did you think I'd forgotten?" I want to beg and plead with him, but I don't have the strength for words. I stay as still as I possibly can; eyes pressed tightly closed and let acceptance wash over me. The first strike of the belt shocks me nonetheless. It feels so much more raw and brutal then his hand had on my already tender ass. He counts each blow out loud and sometimes stops to readjust my position if my inability to remain still has changed it substantially. After having to stop for the third time he informs me that from now on, for each time he has to stop, I will receive two additional slaps. This has the desired effect of making me try my best to remain stoic, knowing it will more quickly bring this torment to an end. My extra movements seem now to be replaced by tears, flowing freely down my cheeks, and a seemingly continuous moan. I can feel how he likes this display; my sobs, my moans, seem to provoke him to hit me harder and faster and finally, finally I hear him say twenty-seven. I sink to the bed, my knees shaking so badly, my whole body trembling, and my face tearstained. I feel the bed shift as he sits down on its edge. He leans over me, gently pushes the hair off my face, and kisses my tears, which continue despite the cessation of the belt. "Tess, Tess, you're fine, baby," he whispers in my ear. "I love you, Tess, you know that." I nod my head, still unable to form or utter a word. "It was what you said wanted, Tess. Something we'd both fantasized about. I wanted to surprise you. You know you only had to say our word and I would have stopped. You didn't, baby. Did I go too far?" he softly whispers. "Please answer me, Tess." I stop sobbing, gather myself, force myself to rise onto my knees and face him. I look into those deep, dark eyes that I love so much and see his beautiful face, that only moments ago had conveyed real anger, and see only calm and concern and love. "I know you would have stopped, I know…….I couldn't say it, I just couldn't make myself say the word, I don't know why. Maybe I thought that we'd never do this ever again and if I wanted to live out this fantasy there was only now. This one time. I honestly don't know." "I do know that I was afraid of you, Andrej. Not pretend fear, real fear. You changed in front of my eyes. You enjoyed my pain and my fear and that scared me even more. I didn't know that you would." "Baby, you're right. I did like it, maybe too much. We never have to do that again. You know me well, Tess. Too well, if that's possible." I take his handsome face into my hands, feeling the roughness of his chin, his skin so white against his dark hair, his eyes, as always, drown me and almost rob me of my breath and senses. "Andrej," I begin to say but he stops me by placing two fingers on my lips. "Shhhhhh, baby. You are such a good girl. My good girl. Enough talk for now, let me hold you," he says as he encircles me, his chest pressed to my back, one arm around my waist, the other stroking my hair that only moments before he had pulled so roughly. I feel his lips against the back of my neck, and then he whispers, "Sleep now, angel. I want you to sleep." Fresh tears edge their way through my closed eyelids and I open my eyes for a moment to blink them away. They are different then the tears before, the polar opposite, I am overwhelmed by my love for this man; he is as much mine, as I am his. As I hear his breathing slow and deepen, I too allow myself the luxury of sleep, knowing that when I awaken, I will still be surrounded in him. And that is really all I want at this moment. END ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 39