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Isabelle's Awakening

By: Jasmine30



Isabelle jolted awake to feel the cool night air blowing across her chilled skin. She absently reached for her comforter hoping to feel its warmth on her bare shoulders. She patted the bed searching for the hefty down comforter but it wasn't within reach. Sighing, she sat up and grabbed a hold of the sheet to cover her breasts. 

Where was the damn comforter anyway? She supposed she could have kicked it off, but she wasn't a wild sleeper and usually stayed put most of the night. Isabelle scooted down to the end of the bed to look for the comforter. It was there piled in a heap on the floor. She grabbed the comforter up and arranged it on top of the sheet. 

It wasn't until she was settled back into her warm cocoon that she began to wonder why it was so cold in the room. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she noticed the curtains were lightly billowing from the open windows. Isabelle felt a chill move down her spine knowing that she had not opened the windows before going to bed. 

Suddenly her warm bed didn't feel so safe. Isabelle jumped out of bed and turned on the light. The room didn't appear quite so sinister in the warm glow, but she didn't let her guard down until she had checked out the bathroom and closet. A brief check through the rest of the house reassured her that no one was inside. 

"Well, that's that then. I must be losing it." Isabelle muttered to herself. 

She closed the windows and straightened the curtains, then turned off all the lights except for her closet light. She cracked the door to allow some light into the room because she was still chicken enough to want a light on. She hopped back into bed determined to stop this nonsense and get back to sleep. 

Isabelle was just drifting back to sleep when a hand dropped over her mouth.

"Don't scream." The voice said casually, in a deep, rich, melodic tone. The words were spoken as if they had met on the street and he was asking her for the time. The pressure of his hand was light, as if he expected no resistance. 

Isabelle's eyes flew open to see a man standing over her, his silhouette outlined by the closet light. His face was obscured by the light at his back, only an outline of a large man could be seen. Isabelle felt a pang of fear, not sure if she could scream anyway as the panic clogged her throat. 

"You understand what I'm saying Isabelle? I'm asking you not to scream, I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you disobey me. So if I take my hand away, you're not to scream, understood? Just nod if you do." There it was again, that casual, low growl.

How did this man know her name? Isabelle knew she must not panic. She closed her eyes and opened them again. She wondered if she was dreaming or if this was really happening. Surely this wasn't real she thought, but when she opened her eyes her attacker's silhouette remained shadowed in the now eerie closet light. So she slowly nodded. 

"Good. I see you understand me." He said, still not removing his hand. "I need to secure your hands Isabelle. And maybe your feet, I don't need you interfering with my work, you understand don't you? Nod for me if you do." 

Isabelle nodded her compliance, afraid to move for fear of what he meant by "work". Her eyes followed his movements as he pulled something out of his pocket and moved towards her face. His hand left her mouth and was quickly replaced with rough material, which he tied at the back of her head. Isabelle knew that once she was bound there would be no escape from this man. She began to squirm as the panic overtook her. 

The man leaned down close to Isabelle's ear and whispered, "Remember what I said Isabelle, I don't want to hurt you but I will if I have to. Stop fighting me." 

Strangely enough, his calmly spoken words had the desired effect and since Isabelle had no desire to get hurt she stopped her squirming and decided to save her energy to plan for a better escape. 

"Good, I see you decided to listen to me. It really wouldn't have done you any good to fight me anyway Isabelle." The man chuckled with amusement. 

Isabelle watched in fear as his hands moved to hers, pulling them above her head and securing them tightly together. He then moved to stand at the end of the bed, his eyes devouring his prey with her hands trussed up in the bed.

He grabbed the comforter and flung it to the ground as if suddenly impatient to see more of his prize. He stood back and looked at Isabelle's body under the thin sheet. Her breasts were plainly visible in the stream of light emanating from the closet. Suddenly conscious of the sheet brushing against her nipples, Isabelle squirmed under the sheet, hoping he wouldn't notice her nipples stiffening. 

He tugged the sheet down a little, the fabric grazing her nipples and ending on her midriff. Her breasts were now exposed, the nipples raised and stiff. Isabelle looked up at him to see what his reaction was, and while she couldn't see his face, she sensed his satisfaction at making her respond. 

The sheet moved down more, every small movement felt like a hundred needles piercing her skin. Isabelle couldn't understand why she was responding like this. This was a complete stranger in her house tying her up and about to rape her. Well, not a complete stranger, he knew her name. Somehow that was little comfort. And yet despite all that, her nipples were stiff, her stomach felt fluttery and there was a distinct pooling of heat in her womb. 

Tug, the sheet moved down again, the fabric settling just above her pubic mound. Her pubic hair seemed ultra sensitive, the sheet heavy enough to rustle the hair but too light to ease the growing ache. Her hips jutted up involuntarily, seeking more pressure. 

"Hmmm, look at that pussy. It looks hungry Isabelle." The man's hand hovered over her mound. "I wonder how hungry." He said as he lightly traced the shape of her through the sheet. 

Isabelle felt her insides clench at his crude words. She did not want to respond to this man, to his words, to his deeds, but she was powerless to stop him. She was powerless to stop her body from reacting. A low moan escaped from her throat as she realized the hopelessness of her situation. 

"I know what you're thinking Isabelle; you're wondering why your body is betraying you. You're thinking about how to get out of this." He said almost kindly, his hand still hovering over her mound. "But I'm going to tell you right now Isabelle; there is no getting out of this. That's why I tied you up, because I don't want those thoughts to disrupt what's going to happen, what you're going to feel, or maybe its part of it and I want your fear, I want you to feel helpless when I make your pussy come for me. Don't bother to respond, it doesn't really matter what you think anyway, my sweet little pussy." 

Isabelle tried to suck in her breath at his matter of fact statement but the cloth covering her mouth prevented her from getting much air. This man expected her to come for him? Was he crazy? Didn't he watch the news? Rape was a power crime not a sexual one, at least that's what they always said. 

Down the sheet went once more, scraping her thighs and leaving her mound open to his gaze. She felt more than saw his eyes moving down her body, they went from her breasts, down her stomach and over her now increasingly swollen lips. Isabelle shuddered at the arousal swimming through her veins caused by his visual violation.

His hands had not touched her save for his hand over her mouth and his torturous outlining of her pussy, and yet she was more aroused than she had ever been before. His gaze felt hot on her exposed skin, leaving a warm trail that ran from her breasts to her toes. The cold room was now a distant memory as the heat from within replaced any chill she may have had. 

His fingers gripped the sheet and slowly pulled the rest of it off, leaving her naked body completely exposed in the dim light. Isabelle suddenly felt self-conscious, aware of the fact that she was not a young woman with a perfect body. Marriage and two kids will do that to you. 

She wasn't a complete lost cause, her breasts were full and heavy, her hips rounded and lush and she had a nice ass, or so her husband had always told her. Then she wondered why she even cared, this man was raping her for crying out loud. But she did care; she wanted him to want her. She hated admitting that to herself but it was true, this man had brought forth in her a fire she hadn't felt in years and she needed it quenched. 

"Your body is beautiful Isabelle, hmm, perfect for my needs. You have an ass that begs to be spanked, and those tits, my, my, I can't wait to get my hands on those. And don't you worry that pretty head of yours; I will get to that pussy but only if you do what I ask." He drawled out, his voice lower than before. 

Isabelle just watched helplessly as he moved from the end of the bed to stand next to her. She tried to get a better look at his face but the light behind him made it impossible. All she could see was shadows of an angular face framed by what looked like dark hair but in the dark she couldn't be sure. 

"Tighten your pussy for me Isabelle." 

The words were spoken softly, too softly. Isabelle reacted instantly, her insides contracting violently, reaching, searching for something, what she didn't know. His voice set off a flow of heat emanating from her core. And still he had not touched her aching skin. 

"Turn over." Again the voice was low and soft, issuing a command he fully expected her to obey. 

Isabelle knew it was useless to object, besides how could she? She brought her hands down in an effort to turn over. She rolled over onto her stomach and turned her head towards him. She felt his eyes moving over her backside, down the arch of her back, and over her full bottom. She couldn't help the moan in her throat when she brushed against the bed. She pushed deeper into the bed, knowing he was watching her undulate against the mattress. 

"That is a hungry pussy, isn't it? It really must need some attention, but I didn't tell you to do that Isabelle. Remember you're supposed to obey me." He said, only this time his voice carried a hint of sternness in it. 

Isabelle stopped pushing into the bed and stayed still, waiting for him to make the next move. It happened so fast she had no time to react, his hand came down hard on her ass cheek, slapping it hard enough to sting.

"Tighten that pussy." He said with more force. His hand once again came down onto her bottom, the slap leaving her skin tingling and warm. 

Regardless of whether of not Isabelle wanted to tighten her pussy, his words caused her pussy to tighten almost of its own accord. She felt the wet heat of her arousal on her lips and that caused her to tighten once more. 

Slap! Slap! Slap! The blows kept landing on her now red ass cheeks. Isabelle felt the wetness between her legs grow with each slap, the vibrations of the slaps tingled at her core. She didn't want to be aroused; she shouldn't be leaking wetness out of her pussy, and she shouldn't want the slaps to continue, but she was and she did. 

Then as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Isabelle was left with her ass red and her pussy aching. And wondering what was going to happen next. She didn't have to wonder long. 

"That's what happens when you disobey me Isabelle, I may not always spank you but you will be punished. I may for example, not let you cum, even when your eyes are begging me to let you. I may make you suck my cock deep into your throat and I won't care if it makes you gag Isabelle. So take heed of the last warning I will give you. Don't disobey me, sweet pussy." 

Isabelle laid there and tried to suck air into her lungs. Her system was on overload, she shouldn't want to be tied up and spanked, or forced to suck some strangers cock, but oh, how she wanted him to make her do those things. Her swollen weeping lips had long ago betrayed her. 

"Spread your legs Isabelle. I want to see that dripping pussy of yours." He said as he moved to better position himself for the view. 

Mindful of his last warning, Isabelle didn't hesitate and quickly spread her legs. The action caused her pussy to sink into the bed a little more, but she ignored the fabric rubbing against her lips and concentrated on following his directions. 

"Spread them wider, Isabelle, I know you can show me that pussy. Raise your ass a bit and spread those legs. And don't forget to tighten your pussy." 

The man was surely going to kill her with desire, Isabelle thought, as her pussy contracted again. She opened her legs until she couldn't spread open any more and raised her ass up in the air, granting him the view he wanted. Knowing her ass was perched in the air, her pussy exposed to his view only made her pussy walls tighten once more. 

"Hmmm, that's right Isabelle; you know what I want to see, don't you? Did you know that when your pussy tightens like that it pushes all your juices out? I like seeing your pussy leaking for me Isabelle." The man grunted his approval. 

Laying there helpless and wet with desire Isabelle hoped the man would hurry up and stop his torture. Never in her entire life had she been this wet, wantonly displaying her pussy and ass, wanting, no, needing to get fucked as if her life depended on it. 

Isabelle was so lost in desire that she wasn't prepared for his next move. A light slap landed on her pussy lips, not hard enough to ease the aching, but hard enough to make Isabelle jump and her insides quiver once more. 

Her legs began to shake with the effort of maintaining her position. Another slap rained down and Isabelle began to want more of this man's hands slapping her pussy. She pushed her pussy out farther, wanting him to see her engorged lips. 

"Hmmm, good Isabelle, very good. You know if you continue to give me such a good show I might let you cum. What do you think about that? Would you like that Isabelle?" The man chuckled, "I know you can't answer right now, you just keep that delicious pussy of yours on display and I might let you cum. Might, Isabelle."

Isabelle groaned into the mattress. Her skin was on fire, every slap of his hand only served to inflame her desire. Her muscles ached with holding the position he demanded of her but her aching pussy was the only ache on her mind as she awaited his next torturous act. 

His hand slipped in between her thighs, a finger tracing the shape of her slick lips. He pulled on one lip slightly, stretching the tender skin until taut. Then letting it slip back into the folds of her vagina. He repeated the action with the other lip, then back to the first one. Over and over he pulled, his fingers growing wet from the slickness of her pussy. 

Isabelle's will was slowly eroding; she wasn't sure how much more she could take. His hand moved towards her clit, grasping the tender bud between his fingers and pulling the sensitive skin until she wanted to cry out. He would abruptly release her clit then pull it again, applying direct pressure to her most sensitive spot. 

His touch was anything but soothing on the swollen knob. Her flesh would swell up as soon as he stopped applying pressure ensuring a rush of warm heat deep in her pussy. She gritted her teeth against the grating sensation and tried to pull away. 

"Don't pull away Isabelle. I'm only doing this for your own good. Your pussy deserves to be tortured; it has to be punished for making me want it so much. Maybe that doesn't seem fair to you, but I don't really care all that much Isabelle. You see, I have work to do and I can't be bothered with your petty grievances." He said, his tone remaining conversationally light, almost teasing. 

His fingers searched out her clit and again pulled on it, only this time he held it, kneading the hardened bud between his fingers, rolling it around. He knew her pussy would contract and that she would back towards him, furthering his view of her gaping slash. And she did, seeking to ease the discomfort he was causing her. His fingers grasping at her were at once pleasurable and painful.

A slap landed on her warm bottom and Isabelle's clit jumped in his fingers. The tingling sensations built deep in her vagina walls before she felt it in her clit. Her pussy was making sucking noises as the waves emanated from deep within her womb, radiating out and encompassing her entire body as she began to shake. He only pulled harder on her clit, seeking to stretch the flesh beyond its stretching point. Her already engorged pussy spilled out, the wetness covering his hand. Before the wave washed over her completely, he removed his fingers, leaving her convulsing alone, her bottom still jutted out. 

"Isabelle, sweet pussy, I didn't tell you to cum yet. What a bad girl you're being. Now truthfully I don't mind your pussy spilling for me, in fact I want it spilling for me, but from now on Isabelle, you only cum when I tell you to and not a minute before. I may want to make out with your pussy or suck the cum from your pussy lips next time." He said while licking the cum from his fingers. 

Isabelle's head was swimming. She laid there trying to calm her racing heart but her pussy was still throbbing. She watched his tongue slip out and scoop up the creamy liquid left there by her orgasm and her insides contracted again. 

She tried to concentrate on what he was telling her. He wanted her to wait to cum until he told her? How ridiculous was that? She surely wasn't able to retain any semblance of control when he was pulling on her clit, so how was she supposed to cum on demand? She only shook her head and tried to clear her mind of the thoughts crowding in. 

"I want you to roll over Isabelle. I'm going to remove the gag but only if you promise not to scream. Remember sweet pussy, I don't want to hurt you but I will. Can you do that for me Isabelle? Nod for me if you understand?" 

Isabelle rolled over onto her back and tried to sit upright nodding her agreement in the process. She was resigned to whatever this man had planned for her. Truth be told, she wasn't sure if she didn't want it just as much. When he leaned in to untie the gag around her head she caught the scent of cologne, the fragrance was a familiar one but she couldn't name the brand. 

Isabelle sighed with pleasure when the gag was untied and she was free to breathe normally and speak again. But the pleasure was short-lived and quickly replaced with panic as the man wound the gag around her neck, looping it around and tying it in the back, essentially collaring her. Isabelle wanted to fight him, wanted the tight collar off of her neck, but she didn't dare knowing how vulnerable her position was at the moment. 

"I see you've decided not to fight me Isabelle. Good choice. I really wouldn't want to hurt that beautiful body of yours, and really, Isabelle is it so bad, being made to do the things I'm going to make you do?" He said, his large body blocking any thoughts of escape. 

"How do you know my name?" Isabelle asked her voice husky from not being used. 

"I know lots of things about you Isabelle. For instance, I know that your pussy likes to be punished, you like your bottom to be spanked and you have the biggest, juiciest pussy I've ever seen." 

Isabelle sucked in her breath and tried to control the clenching of her pussy at the casually spoken words. 

"See, even my words make your pussy jump. So maybe it's not so important how I know your name, what's important is the fact that I can give that pussy what it needs." His eyes raked over her naked form sitting on the bed, her hands tied and a collar of cloth wrapped around her neck. 

"You look so lush sitting there waiting for my next move, Isabelle. Your breasts are heavy, the nipples aching to be sucked, your pussy, while it just came, is ready to cum again. I don't have to tell you what a turn-on that is, Isabelle. In fact, I want you to feel what you're doing to my cock." 


Isabelle's Awakening



Hello people! This my first submission, part of a story I'm writing. This is just the intro, the action heats up later...

I hope this doesn't seem weird or insulting to anyone. If you like this/want more drop me a message!

= = =

Isabelle shut the door of her toilet cubicle after making sure the room was empty. Jessica, her current (and only) love interest, had demanded that she go here immediately. Isabelle was, in honesty, scared -- She knew that Jessica was a far more experienced girl than her. They both, undoubtedly, liked each other in *that* way, already having shared a passionate kiss together after work hours. Jessica had even touched Isabelle's breasts, but this was as far as they had ever been. They weren't going out, but there was something between them -- that was definite. 

This really made Jessica's latest command odd. The note had been passed to Isabelle when she came running past, carrying a whole stack of paper. It wasn't a hastily scrawled note, but it was clear that Jessica in a hurry when she penned it -- for example, the "x"s at the end were huge and went off the page. However, the orders were still clear.

Isabelle sat down on the toilet. Jessica still had not yet arrived. Isabelle read the note again:

"hey sweetiee, I want to try something now with you. It wont be much, don't worry, just goto the toilets and sit in the end cubicle, ill come nd sit in the next one soon after, ;)"

The nature of Isabelle's sexuality was not very clear. She knew she was interested in women -- no doubt about it, she found them vastly more attractive. She liked to browse pictures of famous celebrities in her spare time, finding them pretty beyond belief, but she never seemed to be sexually aroused. Not even when Jessica felt her bra, all that drove her was how pretty she found her. 

She didn't know what to do in here. She was wearing normal work attire, a blouse, without a jacket (left by her desk), and a mid length skirt. Underneath, her panties were pure white, as well as her bra, which was especially tight.

Her automatic reaction when in a toilet cubicle was, well, to go to the toilet -- so she did. She knew Jessica was going into a different cubicle, so there was nothing to worry about. She lowered her skirt and panties, but stayed still, not peeing, because just then, Jessica walked in.

Isabelle heard her high heels clipping along the room at a fast pace, excited. The cubicle next to her opened and then closed with a bang. Isabelle dared not move, tensing up in position for anything. She trusted Jessica more than anyone else at the moment, but right now, she felt truly alone.

She heard the unzipping of a skirt. Maybe it was someone else? That would be fine. Isabelle would probably have preferred that. What she then heard was more desperate shuffling, as if they were negotiating more than just a skirt. 

Then, silence. Isabelle held her breath.

Suddenly, in a flash of red, a hand appeared from below, through the gap between cubicles. The red in the hand was what shook Isabelle to the core -- panties. They were crimson, with intricate lace knitted nearly around the edges in beige. They seemed thicker than most, and almost appeared well worn. 

The hand remained there for a few moments. Isabelle leaned over for a closer look. She didn't know whether Jessica was just... showing her, or giving them to her? But why would she do that?

Suddenly the hand shook, making Isabelle jump. She quickly grabbed them -- they seemed heavy in her hand. She brought them up, but dropped them on her lap, unsure as to whether she should be touching such a thing.

They were so... detailed, so fine, and they were very warm. They almost seemed appealing, sitting innocently on her lap.

Then she heard a tap, making her jump again. She let out a gasp, and saw the empty hand below again. This time, they wanted to take something. She also realised that Jessica would be sitting in the other cubicle without panties on now, whilst Isabelle took her time examining them.

She picked them up, only with two fingers, and dropped them back into Jessica's hand. The hand returned, back to its own cubicle.

But then the panties were dropped back in.

"No, Isabelle, give me yours!" came a harshly whispered voice.

This, Isabelle did not expect. She grabbed her sides, pulling back from the voice, intimidated. What could she do?

She could just leave. This was far too embarrassing.

...But, this was Jessica. She really had a good feeling for Jessica, how she looked, how she behaved, how she laughed. She can't be a bad influence on me, can she?

Isabelle, in another split second decision, tossed her panties to Jessica. Then everything happened very quickly -- there was a grabbing sound, then a sniffing, followed my a low, resounding "Mmm". Then, there was the sound of clothes being put on, quickly, and suddenly, the cubicle next to Isabelle was empty, and she was left in the room, alone.

Without her own panties.

She was in shock. Above all, that was just rude. How could she do that?! She stole her clothes! Now all she had before her was Jessica's panties -- empty, vacant, and unwelcoming.

And she had nothing to wear underneath now. She was well aware that many office girls did not wear panties to work -- but then again, they all liked men. She felt she had no choice but to do what Jessica had done -- swap panties.

Did she have a choice? Maybe. But what matters is that she chose this path.

She slid the panties up slowly. Once they had arrived in their place, she felt their warmth, glowing around her groin. They were tight, and almost weighed her down. The red was clashing with the rest of her outfit, quite dramatically (but unless someone was about to investigate her, this wasn't a problem -- it just nudged at her quietly). She had a terrible feeling about all this. She hitched up her skirt again and walked out.

She sat back at her desk and tried to ignore the tightness around her groin. Isabelle wasn't fat at all, quite the contrary, but Jessica was smaller than her, making the swap less than suitable. She ignored it and decided to continue typing up her report. 

An hour passed, and the panties still itched. They still seemed to carry an uneasy warmth with them. She wondered how Jessica was taking it. Assuming it was all just a quirky experiment, she'd be at her desk like normal. They both worked quite late so they'd probably swap back and have a laugh about all this.

Or, if it was more serious, Jessica could be anywhere. Isabelle had not been wearing expensive panties, so if they were damaged in any way, it shouldn't be a problem -- however, Jessica's seemed to be expensive, at least designer, so one could only assume Isabelle was being trusted with a fairly expensive pair. Jessica always had a lot of money.

At lunch, Isabelle didn't see Jessica. They usually went to different places or had slightly different hours, so this wasn't unusual at all.

However, later, Isabelle did want to know that everything was normal, so she went to look for Jessica. Besides, the panties were still too tight for her, despite having a few hours to settle in, so she wanted to swap back again.

On her way to Jessica's work area, she thought about the past day, still confused. But, when she arrived, she was even more confused, because Jessica wasn't there.

Her work seemed to be across her desk, as usual -- she wasn't very neat -- but her computer was on standby and her bag was gone, as well as her jacket. Isabelle looked for a note, since it was the kind of message she'd leave, but couldn't find one. Checking her text messages, she found nothing. The only other thing would be e-mail, but Jessica didn't use that, and MSN was only at home.

She decided to ask someone else. Next to Jessica's cubicle was Grace, who worked a very similar job to Jessica. The two didn't get along well. Isabelle was very shy so it took some initial courage to ask. Jessica's panties still burned around her groin.

"Uuuh... Grace?" she started, quietly.

"Oh, yes Isabelle?" said Grace, looking up, wide eyed, from her work. Isabelle couldn't help but admire her -- her brunette hair, her beautiful eyes, and an almost perfectly formed face.

"Erm... do you... do you know where Jessica is?"

Grace laughed, "Oh, that slag? She's gone home sick, she looked really stressed out earlier. She's probably just skiving."

Isabelle felt hurt about that comment -- she didn't like to hear her friend being called a slag -- but it was common knowledge that Jessica was more than easy, and she fucked both men and (usually) just got off with drunk girls (she was especially famous for being 'sober' on most of those occasions).

But Isabelle couldn't bring herself to dispute this -- Grace was very popular in the office, and nobody knew anything about Isabelle and Jessica. Plus, Isabelle just felt like running away right now, so she turned without another word and went straight back to her seat.

Now she was stuck at work with someone else's underwear. Jessica was *never* ill, besides frequent hangovers, and was never ever stressed. It felt like more than just a casual link between this experiment and Jessica's disappearance. Stressed? How could she be stressed? Also, one bad feeling Isabelle held onto had to be deeply suppressed, but she had heard the rumours of Jessica's sex life... even masturbation habits. 

But Isabelle did not want to believe rumours like that, so she didn't. She strictly saw Jessica as a good friend, and never associated her with sex. In fact, Isabelle kept well away from sex all together.

She furiously tried to ignore this confusion, and it seemed to work -- when it came to 5, she had almost forgotten about it.

As she left the building, she turned on her phone. Suddenly, like a gunshot, she was reminded of the day's weirdness -- Jessica had sent her a text. 

It was only about 2 hours old. It simply said:

"aaah. Chek ur e-mail at home : ) xxxxxxx"



Isabelle's Awakening



Isabelle stayed late after the rehearsal, hanging around at the school's drama studio once everyone had left. She loosened her long red hair from its hair band and let it fall around her shoulders. She was still in her school uniform, the blouse felt tight and restrictive. Throughout the rehearsal she had longed to rip both it and her bra off. The sweat was accumulating in the small of her back. Instead she stayed slumped against the wall, with the kilt buckled up around her young, slim thighs.

At eighteen years old she was still a virgin, not that she couldn't lose it if she had wanted to. Isabelle could name at least six boys in her year that desperately panted after her, but she had no interest in teenage boys. She had long lusted after the her father's grown up business partners. She used to sit at the top of the stairs and watch them in the dining room when they came round for dinner. She loved their hard masculine bodies in suits and sometimes she let her fingers stray into the pajama bottoms to softly stroke her clit through her cotton panties.

Even though she was as horny as fuck she never dared come onto a guy. She knew she would have to wait for him to make the move on her. And though this frustrated her tremendously, she knew it would be worth it when a powerful man finally fucked her. She could just imagine the taste of his juicy cock in her mouth. God she longed to suck on a long, thick cock. 

Alone in the studio her hand slipped under her skirt. She wasn't wearing any tights and began to stroke her damp pussy through her panties. Lost in this fantasy she pushed the cotton to one side and started to circle her wet hole. The sensation drove her wild and she slipped a finger up, and then two. She shifted for a better position until her legs were splayed and she had three fingers up her cunt, furiously fucking herself. If anyone was standing outside of the door now they would have had a pretty nice show of it.

It wasn't Isabelle's fault, this play they were doing was making her super horny all the time. In her scene she had to seduce this guy, crawling up to him on the floor then straddling him and undoing her blouse. Her school was pretty progressive and her drama teacher was young and hip so it had been decided that she would actually get her tits out on stage.

But although she could see in her head how she wanted to do all this, she found it really hard to act out. Especially in front of her hot drama teacher who made her feel even more like a silly school girl. Sure she had fantasized about sex, but she hadn't actually done any of this stuff so it made it so much harder. Plus the boy she was trying to seduce was just that, a boy. Now, maybe if it was her drama teacher in the scene...

This thought pushed her to the edge and she came over her fingers in a glorious climax. She had quickly worked out in her night time activities that she was a squirter. She had only just rearranged herself and wiped her dripping fingers on her kilt when Mr. Cox walked in.

She stood up in a hurry and tugged down on her already very short skirt. 

"Don't mind me Isabelle," Mr Cox said.

For a moment she wondered whether he had seen her, but by the very calm nature that he sat on the edge of his desk in the corner of the room made her think otherwise.

"You seem upset. Are you ok? Having any trouble with the rehearsals?" He continued.

She crossed the room to stand by him.

"Not really," she said. Hesitating, she then continued "I find the scene with Zach a bit... challenging."

He sighed and chuckled. "These things are always hard for student productions. But I think I can stretch you guys. Anyway, isn't Zach considered a very attractive young man?"

Isabelle looked disgruntled. "He's not my type".

She had hoped he would ask her what her type was, and then she could tell him how she really liked older guys. Instead, he asked an even better question.

"Isabelle," he said. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure."

"I really shouldn't, as your teacher. But I can trust you not to snitch on me, can't I? Or get offended?"

"Of course," Isabelle snapped, feeling a twinge of nervousness that curled down her stomach, and pulsated in her groin. She unconsciously parted her lips. Mr. Cox noticed.

"Have you ever had sex?"

Isabelle blushed to the roots of her hair. "No sir."

"I see, I could tell. Sometimes it is hard to act stuff like that when you have no experience to draw on."

Isabelle glanced down at his crotch involuntarily. Was it her or was there a slight bulge there now? She noticed him shift a little and she bought her eyes back to his face. He was staring at her very intently. She returned his gaze.

She had never really looked at him properly before. But now she could see that his dark blue eyes were flecked with grey. That this hair fell so charmingly across his forehead, framing his chiseled face. She could also tell that under his suit he must have a killer body, and a killer something else by the looks of it too.

"Now," he said, breaking the silence. "We have two options. Either you can pick up your bags and leave and we will pretend this conversation never happened. OR you can go over and lock that door and I can teach you how to do that scene even better. But that would have to be our secret. The choice is yours."

What choice? It was obvious what she wanted to do. She went over quickly and locked the door.

"Good girl," he said, pulling a chair to middle of the room. "Now let's do that scene."

Isabelle was shaking in anticipation. She dropped to her knees, as the script dictated. She knew that the gape of her blouse would give him ample view of large, firm breasts. Soon he would see them in all their glory. She crawled to him, almost feeling her juices leak down her leg. He looked at her like an animal, lips parted, shallow breath. He wanted her, god he wanted her so bad.

When she reached his knees she looked up at his face then slowly straddled him. The skirt left her legs fully bare and she should feel his hard on pushing at her through her panties. He rested his hands lightly on her thighs for a moment, before pressing his fingers in harder. Slowly she began to unbutton her blouse.

"Do you want me to go the whole way sir?"

"Yes, I think that would be helpful."

She undid the buttons one by one, until her blouse was fully open. He could see the smooth plane of her stomach and her lacy white bra peeking through. She had gorgeous cleavage that he just wanted to bury his face in, but he restrained himself. Isabelle improvised, taking off her shirt entirely.

"That's as far as the scene goes sir."

"I think for the sake of this exercise we should go further. Do you agree?"

"Yes sir."

He took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, thrusting his tongue into her willing mouth. She was inexperienced but learnt fast, matching his pace. When he drew away he could see that she was breathless.

He ground his erection in her hips and unhooked her bra, releasing her soft breasts. They were huge yet pert with large pink nipples. He took one between thumb and finger and squeezed it hard. She moaned in response. He cupped her breasts in both hands and bought his mouth to her beautiful nipples. He kissed, licked and sucked them, before biting down and teasing them out. She bucked her hips in abandon, clasping his hair in her hands.

He pushed her to the floor where she knelt between his spread knees. Without any instruction she unzipped his flies. He helped maneuvered his cock out of his boxers and she gazed at it in awe, alittle unsure of what to do with his massive, throbbing erection. The head of his cock was glistening with pre cum. He realized that me might need to instruct her in this. She was a good student, she would do everything he wanted.

"Just take it between your hands, yes like that, good girl. Now rub it up and down, oh yes, just like that. Lick it. God, Isabelle, lick it."

She bent down her head and licked his cock from shaft to tip, savoring the salty taste. She took it in her mouth, and at the guidance of his hands, begun to slide her mouth up and down. Tucking her lips over her teeth like a pro. She had sure got the hang of this fast. Mr. Cox luxuriated in the experience as his student sucked down greedily on his cock. He had to restrain himself from bucking his hips and vigorously fucking her face. But this was her first time. Stuff like that could come later.

But he didn't want to cum now. He wanted to give her some pleasure too. He pushed her down on the floor and she complied, spreading her legs for him. He got down from his chair and laid on top her. Kissing her he tasted himself in her mouth. Once again, he pinched her hard nipples. She moaned louder and he figured she must like that sort of thing. He must find an excuse to spank her one day.

But now he bought his hands to her pulsating pussy. He pulled her panties down and she slipped them off her legs. For a moment he bought them to his nose before pocketing them. As he kissed her he took his fingers and slowly circled her clit, driving her wild. She pressed her hips against him, wanting him inside her. He toyed with her, spreading her legs further and pinching her clit. Then he quickly slipped two fingers inside, feeling her tight, virgin pussy. He quickly located her g spot and finger fucked her into submission. She moaned and wailed with abandon, and writhed beneath him in ecstasy. When she finally came and squirted her juices over his hand he bought his finger to her mouth. She licked them greedily, little slut.

To finish off he told her to lay like that on the ground and play with her nipples, which she did willingly. Then he straddled her and started furiously tossing himself off. He came all over her tits and face, covering her in streams of spunk that she reveled in.

Then they lay panting and spent on the studio floor.

"Right," he said. " Well that was lesson one. Think about how much we will learn next week."



Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 02



He was back. The man who had raped her was back in her house, she could feel his presence like a cloak wrapped around her shoulders, feel his eyes devouring her. She cursed him for returning, she had almost obliterated his memory from her days. He still haunted her nights, filling her dreams with erotic memories full of dark twisted desire and sweet pleasure. 

She hadn't told her husband what had happened that weekend. And she hadn't reported it to the police, she had been too ashamed. She had enjoyed it and wasn't sure she could file a report knowing that. Besides, there wouldn't have been any way to identify him physically other than D.N.A. She had only caught brief glimpses of his features and none long enough to remember what he actually looked like; she only had an impression, not a solid identification. 

Over the past two months since he had raped her she had found herself wishing he would come back, that she knew who he was. She couldn't explain these thoughts, or why she desired this man and she tried to fight them, but the memories made it impossible to forget. The last time her husband had left to his aunt's ranch with the kids to give her a weekend off; she had lain in bed waiting for him, hoping he would come back. He hadn't but he was here now. She wondered why.

Her heart beat faster when she felt him move closer. The room was completely dark unlike last time when she could at least make out some of his features in the shadows. She caught his scent and her nostrils flared like an animal in heat. She remembered what he had done to her, how her body had responded to him, how it was responding now and then she knew why he was here. He couldn't forget what had happened either. 

That thought sent the blood swimming through her veins, increasing her awareness of him. A hand reached out of the darkness and slid down her hair, softly caressing the tangled mass. Isabelle shuddered, the memory of his hands on her slowly being replaced by the reality. On really long nights she had wondered if she had dreamt the whole thing, but his hands sent shockwaves through her, eliminating all doubt that it had been real.

She wanted him, hadn't stopped wanting him since his visit so many nights ago. The nights since had been spent dreaming of the things they had done, what he had made her do for him, and to him. She shivered, remembering the nights she had touched her pussy, rubbing herself frantically as the thoughts of him filled her mind. Her body would buck silently in the bed, remembering his length jammed into her. 

"Did you miss me?" He whispered in the darkness, his voice shattering the quiet stillness.

"I wasn't sure you were real." She replied. 

"Oh, I'm real." He said, sitting on the bed next to her. 

Isabelle pulled the sheet to her chest and sat up, reaching a hand out to touch his face, wanting to feel the contours against her fingers. He caught her hand midway, closing his fingers over hers and bringing them to his chest, where she could feel his heart thumping through his shirt. It matched the thumping going on inside her chest. 

Isabelle licked her dry lips in anticipation. What did all of this mean? Why this man? Why now? The questions crowded her mind, competing for equal time. She pushed the thoughts aside, he was here; she could touch him; that was all that mattered.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you. I tried to stop, but the memories were too strong. I wondered if you were going to come back and I waited for you. When you didn't come back right away, I figured you weren't going to." Isabelle said, the words echoing in the silent room. 

"Why didn't you report it the police?" He asked, shifting his weight closer to her on the bed. 

"I..." She started, "I couldn't." She finished lamely wondering how he knew she hadn't reported it. 

"Why not?" He whispered in her ear, the vibrations of his voice setting off goose bumps all over her now chilled skin. 

"Because I wanted it." She answered quietly, trying unsuccessfully to pull her hand back, but he held fast. 

"Hmmm, you did too. I have never seen a pussy that wet, you soaked me Isabelle. I haven't been able to stop thinking about that, or about the way you sucked my cock, or the way your pussy came over my tongue." He said, sending a tingle through her spine. 

Still holding her hand he pressed it against the bulge in his pants, letting the memories assault her mind while her hand reacquainted itself with his size. He allowed her to open her hand and close it over him, squeezing the length of him with her small palm. Isabelle's body was coming alive, her senses overflowing, as she caressed him. 

She reached for him with her other hand, needing to feel him encased between her palms. She grew impatient when her hands encountered the buttons on his pants and she fumbled with them in the dark until they finally popped open. She didn't bother trying to take them off; she just needed her hands on him, wanted to feel his heat. She needed to know that it had been real, that she had been taken by this stranger in the dark and had loved it, wanted more. 

She pushed his briefs down and wrapped her palms around his shaft, reveling in the heat coming from him. He was hard, extremely so. His cock jerked in her hands, the head bumping against her fingers. She had waited for two long months to know what he felt like in her hands and now she knew it was beyond anything she had conjured in her mind, it was magical.

She let her hands dance over the entire surface of his shaft, memorizing every vein and ridge. His head was large, jutting up every time she brushed against it. She leaned into his frame, her mostly naked form coming into contact with his clothed body. She wanted to feel his naked body against hers, the length pressed completely to hers with not a single inch between them. She couldn't put a voice to the need pulsating through her; it was too intense with too many emotions riding on the surface. Arousal, shame, and desire so intense it took her breath away and coursed through her veins.

She looked up to see him studying her in the moonlight; his eyes were dark, brooding orbs that held many secrets. He returned her stare, their eyes meeting for the first time since he had raped her so many nights ago. His gaze was full of dark desire, twisted secrets that only the two of them knew. Her hands stilled, his throbbing cock resting in her palms. 

Isabelle tried to control the beating of her heart as she looked upon her attacker for the first time. It was still too dark to make out his features but his eyes held her in their trap like a deer in the headlights. So many things went through her mind, the absolute belief that she belonged to him was one of them. Never had a man so mesmerized her. 

"I don't even know your name." She said thickly, the words sticking in her throat. 

"You wish to know my name? That would only complicate things. I know I can't have you, sweet pussy, we only have this. My name is unimportant." 

"Please tell me." She pleaded. 

"No, It's not important." he replied firmly. 

"Why didn't you come back sooner?" She asked, noting the tone of her voice which suggested she would have welcomed him back much sooner than this. 

"I had no plans to come back Isabelle, I thought I could have you once and that would be enough to stop the dreams of you. I didn't know it was only the start of more dreams, dreams filled with the memory of your skin." He said while his thumb rubbed over her bottom lip, plumping the skin out. 

Isabelle's breath caught in her throat at his whispered confession. She had been unsuccessful in eradicating the memories of him as well. It had been all she could do to act normally around her husband and kids. Ever since that night, she had felt like a different woman, a woman with secrets, secrets that aroused a restlessness that niggled at her constantly. 

She walked around with a confidence she hadn't had before, the passion she had experienced with this man had changed who she was. You could see the changes in the way she walked, she walked like a woman who had been thoroughly taken and wanted more of that in her life. 

Her nipples tingled at the most inopportune times, she would be in the grocery store and a memory of that night would invade her mind, and suddenly she would be fully aroused in the middle of a hundred strangers, her face flushed and her insides throbbing. But then she would smile, because she had never felt so alive, so free to explore her sexuality, so desired. She couldn't deny the woman he had made her into, a woman who craved his touch constantly; a woman who got aroused in a grocery store just at the memory of his touch. 

He slid his hand under her jaw, breaking the spell. He studied her face as his thumb grazed her lower lip. His hand slipped towards the back of her neck, sliding into the tangle of hair and pulling her head back. His mouth came down hard on hers, his tongue snaking out to possess her mouth. The kiss was hot and demanding, he took her mouth like a desperate man. She eagerly returned his kiss, leaning into him and meeting the insistent stroking of his tongue, feeling equally as desperate. 

The scent of his skin was dizzying; his mouth claiming hers sent her on an emotional roller coaster. He didn't wait for her to return his kiss; he only took, silently laying his claim on her. The moan built up in her throat, bubbling up in a desperate attempt to release the exquisite sensations coursing in her veins. His kiss was everything she needed and had craved since his last visit. 

He shoved her away abruptly and pushed her down onto the bed. She felt his eyes moving over her and she shivered as the cool air blowing over her replaced his warmth. His hands gripped hers and moved them to the headboard, forcing her hands open and placing them around the wrought iron bars.

"Don't let go, love, whatever you do, don't let go. Don't forget that I will punish you if you disobey me." 

His hands slid down her arms, caressing the muscles taut with maintaining her grip on the bars. His fingers stopped at the fabric barrier of her nightgown. He looped a finger into the hem at the top of her gown and tugged it downward slightly, testing the fabric's strength. He smiled at the thin barrier covering her body and she realized that he would not allow anything to hinder his progress. 

She heard a soft snick and turned toward the noise, at first she saw nothing, then in the dark a glint shone off of something he was holding. She knew she was still in danger from this man, despite how much she had wanted it the last time, he was still a complete stranger and the very fact that he had her fate in his hands sent a shiver down her spine. 

The shiver increased as she realized what he was holding. A shiny blade caught the moonlight as he leaned closer and Isabelle felt the panic well up deep in the pit of her stomach. She let go of the headboard and tried to get up before he reached her, but he was way too quick. He wrapped his knife-free arm around her waist and dumped her back onto the bed.

"Didn't I tell you not to let go? I'm not going to hurt you Isabelle. But it's important you understand that you can't disobey me." He put the knife in his mouth and again moved her hands to the headboard, wrapping his hands around hers for a quick squeeze. The tender touch was in direct contrast to the knife held tightly between his teeth.

With the knife still in his mouth, he moved to straddle her legs, taking care that her pussy was still within reach. She couldn't see but she could feel his movements. He ran a hand down the length of her body, then back up to cup her breast, squeezing the tender flesh, filling his hand with the weight. 

She didn't want to admit she was afraid, more afraid then she was the first time. Yes, he had raped her the first time and she hadn't known if he would hurt her, but somehow after the fact, she had to admit to herself that she hadn't really been afraid, not for her life anyway. Being in this precarious position though changed her perspective drastically. She watched warily and waited for his next move. 

She felt the cold steel brush against her arm and couldn't help trying to move away. The blade wasn't directly on her, he was using it to somehow caress her arm but the threat existed nonetheless. He trailed it down to her shoulder; then traced the neckline of her gown and then to her other arm ending at her fingertips white from gripping the bars. 

She watched as the glinting metal again landed at her neckline. He was very deliberate in his actions, using the knife to lift the fabric away from her breasts. She gasped as he cut through the soft cotton down the middle of the gown, the gown parting to reveal the tops of her breasts in the night light. He had only cut through an inch or so of fabric but it was enough to make her feel completely exposed. And afraid. 

"What are you doing?" She managed to rasp out. 

"Don't worry, sweet pussy, and don't let go of the bars no matter what. You understand me?" He answered. 

"Yes." She whispered back, uncertain now of what she should do. 

The cool steel again brushed her skin, this time in between her breasts and up and over her tingling nipples. He used it to push her nightgown away from her breasts, exposing her nipples to the night air; then ran the blunt end of the knife over them, flicking the nipples into hard little nubs. His usage of the knife seemed second nature as he wielded it to tease her nipples. 

His free hand came up her leg and pushed the gown to her hips, exposing her cotton panties. She wanted to move, afraid of what he would do next but he was straddling her legs, trapping her against the bed. She could have tried to buck him off but the knife in his hand pretty much nixed that idea. 

She made an effort to relax her grip on the headboard, and tried to think. But it was impossible to think when her body craved him like this. She was confused about her reaction, this man had a knife and she was scared but her tingling nipples and the wetness growing between her legs said otherwise. So she did nothing, but she knew deep in her heart that she wanted his domination of her, she wanted his cock plunging into her and she wanted to know that she belonged to him. With that knowledge came even more fear, for who knew what she would do to have him. 

She heard the soft cotton tearing and knew he was using his hands to pull the fabric of her nightie apart. He spread it down to her navel, letting it drape away from her breasts where it gathered in a pool of forgotten cloth on either side of her. The nightie brushing against her skin and the cold steel of his blade elicited a soft moan from her lips. 

She felt the cold steel running a line from her breasts down to her navel as she desperately tried to suck air into her lungs. He toyed with her stomach, using the knife handle to trace her smooth hips, to circle her belly button, all the while testing her ability to obey. The handle of the knife kept coming dangerously close to her underwear, even slipping under the hem at one point. Her hands were going numb from gripping the headboard but still she did not let go.

"I'm glad you decided to listen. I can't have you disobeying me when it comes to something as important as this Isabelle. Make sure you don't let go, love." He whispered in the darkened room. 

His weight shifted and she felt him position himself farther down her legs. Then she broke out in goose bumps as she felt the knife move closer to her panties. His hand hovered over her mound, the knife handle dangling very close to the top of her pussy. She wanted to push up against his hand but knew he wouldn't want her to. She almost did it to spite him, but then thought better of it considering the position she was in. 

Five seconds later Isabelle was very glad she didn't as she felt the knife slice through her panties. He had very deliberately cut an opening down the front of her slit and pushed the fabric aside to expose her swollen mound now framed by the jagged edge of her panties. 

"Hmm, look at that sweet wet pussy. So sweet, Isabelle." His voice shattered the spell she was under, the shock of what was happening wearing off. 

"What are you doing?" She rasped out, the fear and lust making her voice husky. 

"I'm taking what's mine." He stated in response. 

"I don't belong to anybody." She replied shock and lust being replaced by anger. 

"Well, that's true, you certainly don't belong to that poor excuse of a husband you have. I bet you he's never made you cum like I did. But make no mistake Isabelle, you belong to me." The tone of his voice suggested that she not argue this point further.

She felt the truth in his words and the shame that it brought. Her husband had never touched her this way, had never excited her so thoroughly, had never taken her body and used it in this way. She wasn't sure she would have welcomed it from him anyway. He was always so stiff and unsure of what to do; she would have been surprised if he had exhibited any of the qualities this man seemed to have. 

Isabelle was yanked out of her silent reverie when she felt the heat of his palm rub against her soft lips. Her body reacted instantly, the anger gone as suddenly as it appeared as her hips bumped up. Her reaction elicited a chuckle from her attacker.  

"Ah, just as I expected. You can't stay angry at me Isabelle. Your body needs this, needs to be stroked, taken. You need me to slake your thirst, this incredible thirst your body has for me." The smugness in his tone only served to inflame her even more. 

He moved off of her legs and moved her around like a rag doll, picking up a leg and swinging under it so he was positioned in between her legs instead of pinning her down. The knife forgotten, he then grabbed both legs and spread them apart as wide as they could go forcing her panties to split further and her pussy to jut out. 

She felt exposed and insecure. Her pussy was gaping out of her slit underwear and this man was watching her every move. Yet in that exposure was incredible desire, for she was completely vulnerable to this man's whims and dark desires. Last time she had been afraid and maybe that fear had heightened her desire but she didn't think so. It was this man, he had the power to excite her this way, to reach down to the deepest parts of her and pull out her darkest fantasies. 

His hands moved over her thighs, caressing and squeezing the soft flesh of her inner thighs. He then moved his hands further up, teasing the torn fabric outlining her pussy. His finger found the opening and slid in to touch her swollen pussy mound. He drew small circles over her lips, not quite parting them, not quite touching them, just a faint impression of his finger lingering over her wetness. 

Isabelle fought the urge to push her mound into his hand. She so desperately needed to feel him but her desire was fighting with her pride. She gripped the iron bars tighter and held her breath as his finger brushed over her lips again. She felt her panties being pulled even farther apart, his fingers working efficiently now. 

He shifted his position until he was braced over her, his mouth hovering against her ear. "Do you like it when I play with your pussy? It's so swollen and puffy. Do you know what I want to do to that pussy of yours? I'm going to tell you." He whispered close to her ear. 

"First, I'm going to stroke your lips until they're painfully swollen. I'm going to spread those lips open and watch your pussy contract for me. Then I might make out with your pussy or shove my finger deep into your wet walls. Maybe two or three fingers, depending on how wet you are and if you can take it. And even if you can't take it Isabelle, I'm still going to do it, because I need to feel those walls contracting around me." 




Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 02



My second submission. Check out the first for the storyline.

I hope this doesn't seem weird or insulting to anyone. If you like this/want more drop me a message!

= = =

Isabelle turned the door handle and went inside her flat. She almost ran to her computer and hit the power button with two fingers. The machine whirred up, slowly, starting to turn on.

She put down her handbag by the desk and slowly lowered herself into the seat. It was a swivel chair much like her work one. The room she was in was her bedroom – it was a tiny flat, with little more than a small kitchen and living room, a toilet, and a bedroom, but it was ample space for her. It was dark now, being November, so she had the lights on. The room was only dimly lit. She had a large mirror to the side.

Around her room, she had her odd decorations – her posters, mainly. Most of these were just pretty models she adored. 

She felt tired – usually she would have got a cup of coffee at this point of the evening to keep her awake. Usually in her spare time she just read – it was a quite pastime and didn't require any level of eccentricity. She shook her head to wake herself up as the desktop appeared on her screen. She opened up MSN to get to check her mail.

Wait, was that a good idea? If Jessica was on at the time, there could be quite an awkward moment. Isabelle was terrible at those.

Sadly, before she could switch to "invisible", she was in. She had only a few work friends as contacts, who were online... But no Jessica. Phew.

Isabelle hadn't got any additional texts so now she had to face up to the e-mail. Why the hell couldn't Jessica just tell her what she wanted in the text?

Hotmail flickered up on her screen. Yes, there was a new e-mail. She clicked that tab to open it up, not knowing what she was getting herself into. All the while, Jessica's panties still burned around her, almost suffocating her groin.

There it was. The e-mail. Having not selected it, she couldn't see what it said, but the subject gave nothing away – it was simply "xxxxxxxx : ) : )". But, there was an attachment. A .zip file, no doubts containing more than one file inside.

With shaking hands, Isabelle clicked on the e-mail. She read almost without blinking:

"heya Isabelle,

I hope ur loving my panties! I LOVE YOURS, theyre so big and cute. Ill give them back tomoro, but im gonna make the most of em now x

I know we have nevr talked about this but when I got home I had to masturbate.., in ur panties! Im sorry but I was just sooooo horny.. i came so fast, u turn me on soooooooo much xxxxx : )

After I decided to pay you bck, with sum pictures, theyre attached. I made a video of me playin wit myself too, so youu know what to do ; )

So enjoy those, im gonna shower nd wank some more, maybs we can get on webcam l8tr :D :D:D:D

Ilu,, Jessica xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx"

Isabelle didn't really register any of this. She read it twice and slowly reeled back in horror, and fear. What had Jessica done?! Apparently, she had "cummed" in Isabelle's panties. She couldn't even picture it.

But then again, she didn't really have to, realising the attached files would show her what had happened. She felt furious, but failed at holding onto the correct emotions for long enough, sliding between confusion, fear and anger – but she had to see the pictures. 

After all, at least she'd find them attractive, right? Her face, at least, she could always admire her face, however uncomfortable her body position may be. And she had to see what had become of her panties. At least she'd be getting them back...

The .zip file downloaded quickly, almost arriving far too soon. It was fairly large – almost definitely due the previously mentioned video.

She took the plunge. She opened the folder.

Inside, there was 1 video file and loads of images. Isabelle was no where near ready to see any videos so she went straight to the pictures after extracting the files to a folder.

Isabelle expected to see worse. Jessica was still wearing her work suit (a knee length, light skirt, with a tight shirt). Isabelle saw no tights, but she simply marvelled at the crispness of the image – it was taken into a mirror, and the room was well lit behind her. She could clearly see Jessica's face, her pretty hair, long and lush. Her eyes were deep and piercing, her facial expression could only be described as 'seductive'.

However, Isabelle could tell the other pictures wouldn't be as clean as this. She clicked next to see the scene had barely changed – but this time, Jessica's free hand was clutching her skirt at the bottom – not lifted, just raised a little. The facial expression was one now of pure glee.

Next, Jessica was holding her skirt up to her chest. Isabelle saw the back of it behind Jessica's legs. And, that's when Isabelle recognised her panties. They didn't quite fit and were very ruffled. Isabelle was suddenly reminded of Jessica's panties, slowly choking the bad feeling up through her spine.

From here on, the pictures only made Isabelle feel worse. Next, Jessica had dropped the skirt but her hand was deep inside it. She was biting her lit, hard. Next, Jessica was without a blouse, leaning forwards to show off her breasts before the mirror. Her hand hadn't moved. 

Next, the skirt was leaving, almost falling down between pictures, leaving Jessica with Isabelle's panties on and her bra – of course, a crimson red colour, matching what Isabelle was now wearing. 

The pictures went on. The bra vanished, leaving her tits hanging down. She was licking them in a few photos, leaving a clearly visible residue across them. Her hand moved back to the panties, and her face became more and more red, her expression more and more desperate. The skill at taking pictures was also becoming worse, as some shots were our of focus and 

Isabelle was skipping through them quickly now. The panties went, and Jessica toyed with them for a while – in her mouth, between her breasts, kissing them softly. Suddenly her clean shaven pussy was visible and her fingers were jammed up there.

Reeling back properly now, Isabelle realised she had come to the last shot. Now it was just the videos. The last one was obscured, since Jessica had collapsed onto the bed – all she could see was the pussy, her fingers, and her large breasts, all between her legs.

Standing up, Isabelle forced herself to stay calm... It was alright, she could wash them, right? She wasn't going to get some STI or something?

Maybe she could just get rid of them. Throw them out, even burn them. They weren't expensive anyway.

No. Clear your mind, Isabelle. She decided to go to the toilet and get a drink.

Sitting down, hitching up her skirt, and dropping her panties, she went. She put her head in her hands, worried, and distressed. 

However, now, looking down in the clear light, she could see the panties. Jessica's.

They were wet.

Isabelle wasn't innocent enough to know what that meant. She was horny.

Oh my god! It must have been the photos. Isabelle had found them appealing, almost beyond belief. They were so new to her, raw, sexy. She'd never really seen another pussy before.

Isabelle put a shaking hand to her groin. Sopping wet. She pulled her hand back, a clear sense of right and wrong compelling her to behave. As she washed her hands, she saw her face was bright red. 

No. No more. She decided to get very serious. She would delete them, and stop talking to Jessica. She was a terrible influence, ugh! How could she be so aroused by them?!

She walked a back to her PC. She wiggled the mouse to remove the screensaver but stopped dead soon after, seeing the picture again – Jessica, spread legged over the bed, fingers furiously pumping.

Sexy. It really was. For the first time ever, she felt a deep, warm, lustful feeling inside her for Jessica. The wetness in Jessica's panties was only getting wetter. Dirty thoughts were now sneaking into Isabelle's head. Bad thoughts.

It all suddenly made perfect sense to her now. She allowed herself to move towards the video in the folder too, now shaking in anticipation. 

The video ran. First it showed the camera being moved about on her desk, changing angles to aim towards the bed. It was fully lit up from the widows around the room. Isabelle's panties lay in the same place as before.

Then, Jessica walked on after a few moments of adjusting. She turned to the camera straight away – she was completely naked. She held her breasts tenderly with a noticeable grip, and her body seemed perfect to Isabelle in all ways. Slender hips. Beautiful legs. But the breasts... They were a new addiction.

She instantly started to talk, "Hey Isabelle, oh my GOD. I love you so much. And your panties!!!"

She picked them up from the bed (Isabelle's pussy lurched with excitement as she revealed her breast) and held them up. "When I got home I came in them straight away, it was so awesome. Oh fuck..." Straight away she was rubbing them in between her legs, as if they were a fresh new sex toy.

Isabelle watched as she masturbated on them for a moment. She had never seen how it was done and Jessica was showing her all the moves. Already her face was pure joy and she was clearly moaning out loud. She could have sworn she heard "Isabelle" underneath her voice. Isabelle was loving it now. Jessica's panties no longer felt tight, but they hugged her together perfectly. As she swayed, she felt her clit being stimulated.

Jessica kissed the panties and threw them backwards. "I'm gonna have another wank now and I really want you to watch. Please do the same as me, you've never done it and it's such a perfect thing." She blew one more kiss to the camera before putting hand to pussy and beginning.

The look on her face was one of pure joy. She was making the loudest moans Isabelle had ever imagined – rocking on her fingers, rolling her fist around her pussy like it was a perfect sex toy. She had lost track of the camera and was just focusing on her own hot body. She circled her nipple with her free hand in the sensual rhythm she had created.

Isabelle felt her pussy warm up and dampen through to the seat. Her things were sticky and her skirt was ruffled. She felt herself join Jessica's pace with her own shaking, her hands gripping her face in horror and awe.

God, Jessica was ploughing herself quickly – Isabelle could barely count the pace as she gradually became higher and higher pitched, squealing now, squeaking "Isabelle! Isabelle!" with every breath. Her climax approached fast.

Suddenly, she was screaming out of the top of her lungs, her pussy on fire, her pulse racing. With one roar of "I'M CUMMING!!!" she released her built up energy, her hand halting, grabbing her wettening pussy to hold herself down. Her whole body shook throughout. What a beautiful climax.

As soon as Isabelle came to her senses, she realised it was her own turn. Her wide eyes still transfixed on the post-orgasm Jessica who was panting on screen, she moved the chair backwards and rose, her hands now clutching her skirt. Her eyes transfixed, she took off her skirt to improve groin access. She also realised she may get very hot and sweaty, just like Jessica, so she took off her shirt and her bra too.

The video ended with Jessica shakily wandering to the camera. She switched it off and all that was left was the frozen frame of her breasts, still in shot, as her arm leaned across. 

Isabelle was still high with this new, wonderful sensation. She gazed down at her own body, never expecting to find it so appealing. Her breasts were pumping up and down, full and perky, their shining skin tone filling the room with reflected glory. Her nipples were also visible. She started there.

She lightly trailed a finger down to them, and they responded with a light pang of excitement. She giggled, pushing them in, like some kind of pleasure button. The response was immediate, filling her mind with dirty thoughts. 

Looking up she spotted herself in the mirror. She aroused herself – I guess that was a perk of being the way she was. The light seemed to emanate from her breasts, whilst her panties and pussy were in shadow. 

She stopped for a second, as if she was about to breach a holy barrier that she would regret later. Past her breasts, her shadowed legs seemed to herald a new beginning for her. 

But she couldn't say no – not now. She continued rolling her nipple around whilst observing herself in the mirror. Soon, this minor stimulation was not enough, she needed the real deal. Falling back onto the bed, she saw herself in the full light. Jessica's panties were hot in so many ways – a turn on beyond anything she could imagine. Sliding a hand onto her groin she felt the warmth fully – and the wetness.

Eyes transfixed now on the reflection of her hand, she watched it as it charmed its way into the sweaty inside of the panties, and finally making contact with what was growling for attention below – her pussy. Almost instantly the feeling registered and spiralled upwards, spinning in her stomach, creating butterflies to amplify the intensity. She could barely feel her fear.

Then, like Jessica, she let her fingers slide around. Her cooler hands made circles around her pussy – oh, what a feeling it was, her mouth gaping open, eyes now straying away from her reflection and into fantasy. As she brushed her clit, electric sparks of pleasure lit her up. Gasping, she found a pace and set to grinding away in pure ecstasy. 

He other than grabbed her nipple again just to add to the effect. She couldn't believe she had ever done this before – her whole body was now rolling on her fingers, sweaty and sticky. Her bed picked up the juice and her thighs were soon sticky with liquid. She teased her fingers in, letting out a quiet "Oohh..." as they slipped into her pussy. The warmth was intoxicating, she had to push further, feeling pleasure spots light up on all sides of her pussy.

As she forced her way in, she suddenly became limited by the tight panties. Feverishly, she pulled out, releasing the pure smell of female into the air, and tore off Jessica's panties. She dropped them to the side and went straight back to where she was, not a single breath wasted. 

She began to thrust harder, her breasts jiggling out of control below her, moaning now with ever. "Oh my god," she groaned, now pumping herself with one finger, inching to insert another as Jessica had done. She looked straight up and screamed as it went in, fucking and fucking herself, getting wetter and sticker, only imagining one face and body in her mind – Jessica.

"Uh... Uh... Ugh..." she cried with each successive push, loving the sweet juicy smell the room filled with, feeling her breasts float around under her grip, firmly caressing her nipples, providing another path to climax. Isabelle could feel something stronger approaching, an overture to an explosion inside her. Her pussy was only pounded more with this feeling, adding more and more delight to each successive pum of her fingers 

She then felt a glorious wave of power overwhelm her – this was it! Her orgasm ripped through her body like an earthquake. "FUCK!" she squealed, as wave after wave flattened her, feeling her pussy pulse with sexual energy around her feverishly pumping hand, bouncing on the bed, feeling fire rip though her body and her mind.

She breathed deeply as it subsided, still swearing, still thinking of Jessica. Her pussy had had its fill now so she withdrew her hand, and dropped both arms either side of her as she fell back on the bed. Her pussy still raced with the slowly fading aftershock. She closed her eyes and gripped the bed, whispering "Jessica..."

Then, suddenly, consciousness seemed to fall back into place, the dream like world faded away. She gradually brought herself to the colder reality of where she was now, and what she had just done. Suddenly her eyes lit up and she sat upright, aghast at what had just been done.



Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 02



Isabelle's breath caught in her throat, his whispered words, although vulgar, caused her pussy to tighten, dampening the outer edges of her panties further. She squirmed under him, noticing for the first time his chest pressing down against her nipples, his chest hair causing a hot friction against her puckered breast. His mouth descended again to claim hers, his tongue plunging in to seal his words, showing her with his mouth what he promised to do to her pussy. 

Isabelle was lost to the sensations thrashing through her bones, her skin was screaming for his touch and all the while his words ran through her brain like a headline. Shove my finger deep into your wet walls, make out with your pussy, contracting walls. Oh God, she was aching so desperately. Her pussy contracted over and over as the words repeated themselves in her head. His hand plunged into the mass of hair at the back of her neck, his hand gripped tight to pull her away from his mouth. His hot breath in her ear nearly sent her over the edge. 

"Oh, Sweet pussy," his voice came out ragged and coarse, "you're contracting for me now. I can feel it Isabelle. That sweet little pussy of yours is so tight that when I push into you it's going to feel like you're trying to push me out. But I can't have that," he chuckled, "No. Your pussy is going to take all of me, every thick, bulging, throbbing inch of me." 

She sucked air in between her teeth, frantically trying to escape the throbbing sensations heating her blood to an almost unbearable intensity. There was no escape, the only relief she would find would be when he decreed it and no sooner. The more she showed her weakness the more he would use it against her. She may not know the man, but she sensed a slightly sadistic side to him that would relish using her weaknesses. 

She almost came off the bed when his teeth clamped down on one of her nipples, drawing it into his mouth, his full lips sucking her into his mouth. He pulled on her, teasing her into a tight bud of hardened nipple flesh. When he was satisfied that the first nipple was sufficiently hard, he transferred his attention to the other one, lavishing the same slow, sucking, pulling motion. She gripped the bars tightly and watched his head bent over her breasts. She had an overwhelming urge to press him even closer, to keep him suckling at her nipples. 

He pulled away from her breasts and looked down at his handiwork. He watched her chest rise with each breath, her stiff nipples wet from his mouth, jutting into the air. He sucked in a ragged breath at the sight. Isabelle wanted to reach for him, pull him back down to her aching breasts and have him continue his torturous explorations but she knew he would only make her wait longer. So she held on to the bars and waited silently, her chest heaving with pent up desire. 

He continued to taste her, slower now as he moved even farther down her ribcage. He dropped small kisses onto her side, surprising her with his tenderness when only minutes ago he had ravaged her into oblivion. How could he continue to move so slowly when she felt as though she had been waiting for this forever and couldn't stand to wait another minute? She jumped when she felt his teeth nip at her belly, drawing her skin softly between his teeth and sucking on the soft flesh there. 

She almost yelped when his teeth found the top of her panties. His tongue slipped out to taste the skin underneath the waistband and swirl little patterns on her soft under belly. Isabelle knew she could move her hips if she wanted to, but she was under his spell and would do as he asked and not move. But Lord, the exquisite torture he was inflicting on her was enough to drive anyone insane. 

He moved farther down until he was once again between her splayed legs. She felt cool air blowing softly against her warm swollen lips and couldn't help the contraction that followed. She had to grit her teeth to stop from crying out or moving. The restlessness was forging a trail through her blood, swelling and growing with each brush of air. 

He pushed the slit panties to each side, allowing her lips to push out of their semi-prison. He watched them plump up even more, until the fabric at the side was inconsequential. Isabelle waited, hoping he would touch her because she wasn't sure how much longer she could wait. He started with a kiss, placed softly against her clit. Her lips hid most of her wet pussy but he managed to kiss her clit, separating her lips only slightly with his tongue. 

He flattened out his tongue, leisurely lapping at her clit, dragging his tongue over the surface of her sensitive nub. Up and over her mound he lapped, until her clit popped out from under its protective hood. Then he took her into his mouth, sucking and pulling on her clit in the same way he had with her nipples. He pulled more of her clit into his mouth, his soft, full lips cradling her while his tongue teased the small hardened bump. He knew how and where to touch her, too hard this way and she would jump, too soft and she would get complacent. 

She felt the blood rushing through her veins and knew it was only a matter of seconds before she came all over his tongue. The delicious lapping of his tongue on her clit was driving her mad. For even though his tongue was soft, his strokes against her clit were not. They were designed to make her clit swell and harden. Again his tongue lapped over her hardened clit and Isabelle came off the bed, moaning and thrashing against his mouth.

She felt the sensations building deep within her pussy walls, the clenching and tightening of her walls as they searched for something to fill them. She fought the urge to grab his head and hold him against her clit. It wasn't necessary as he continued to pull on her tender clit, sometimes letting his teeth scrape her. 

He used his hands to spread her lips open and watched her pussy contracting, the wetness seeping out of her. She felt his fingers probing her inner walls, felt him slide two fingers deep into her pussy. Then he rammed them home, her slick sheath making his entrance easy, his fingers scraping every inch of her long neglected pussy. Isabelle couldn't hold out for much longer, she came with a strangled moan escaping her lips and her pussy bucking against his lips. 

He slowed his lapping but didn't remove his fingers just yet. Just let his tongue continue to swirl over her traumatized clit, his fingers still probing her tender insides. Isabelle didn't realize her hips were writhing against his hand until he pushed her hips back down into the bed. He removed his lips from her clit and she felt an immediate loss, until she felt him move up her body and grasp her wrists. He held her wrists loosely in one hand with his fingers of his other hand still embedded in her. 

"Sweet pussy, Isabelle, you have such a sweet pussy." He looked down at her and smiled in the darkness. "I love the way your pussy squeezes over my fingers, the way it sucks my fingers deeper into you, so wet, so slick and tight. Mmmm." 

He firmed up his grip on her wrists and pulled her hands until they were stretched up above her head. His other hand continued to stroke the soft inner folds of her pussy, keeping her slick and warm. He leaned down close to her ear and began to whisper. 

"This pussy is mine Isabelle. Can you feel how wet you are wrapped around my fingers right now? How hot your pussy becomes when I'm stroking you? How swollen and tight you feel when your pussy squeezes for me? I need this pussy to cum for me again. I want you pouring out for me." 

He said this in a dark guttural whisper that coincided with his feverish stroking of her pussy. His voice was deep and silky sliding over the inner parts of her ear and sending goose bumps racing over her skin. She contracted around his fingers over and over as he kept up his onslaught of pleasure. His body was stretched taut over hers as he gripped her hands and held on. 

"Oh God." Isabelle rasped out. 

She couldn't stop her hips from meeting his thrusts, pushing up wildly to have more of him jammed up against her pussy walls. His tongue slid around the outer edges of her ear, slipping in to leave a warm damp trail. He tongued the hollow behind her ear and whispered once again.

"Cum Isabelle. Give me that pussy." 

Isabelle felt the scream gurgling in her throat as his tongue commanded her to release. She obeyed without question, simply letting the sensations overtake her, as orgasm after orgasm spilled out of her. It was surreal to realize she was literally gushing, her pussy juice squirting out around his hand and wetting the sheets tangled beneath her. She heard moaning and was surprised to realize it came from her. 

He released her hands and smoothed the hair from her face. He slid his fingers out of her grasping pussy slowly, amused to see that she was not immune to him. He pulled her panties down to mid-thigh and gazed down at her pubic mound, the curls wet and clinging to her lips. He trailed his finger down one side and back up the other, softly stroking the swollen lips until her breathing had returned to a more normal pace. 

Isabelle was completely dazed as she looked up at him. Who was this man? How in the hell could he possibly have this much power over her? She eyed him warily; unsure of what he would take from her next. 

He pulled her to the end of the bed and up; then duck walked her over the easy chair in the room. He wasn't gentle by any means, nor was he rough, fiercely determined would best describe it as he pushed her face down over the arm of the chair. His cock bumped against her lips and she moaned, hoping he would take her now, give her pussy what it had so desperately craved since his first visit two months ago. 

His cock slid over her lips, her wetness making it easy. He rubbed her clit, pushing his cock against it and drawing little circles over her swollen clit. Her position made it difficult to move but she tried, pushing her pussy back in an effort to feel his length. He pulled back to let her know he was in control and that she wasn't to disobey. She let her body resume the position he had placed her in and silently waited. The waiting was the worst and he knew it, knew that she hated to wait for anything. How this man knew so much about her was a mystery but he knew what buttons to push. 

She felt his cock head bump her slit, pushing in only slightly. His large head broached her opening and waited there, letting her adjust to his size. Suddenly he pushed in, forcing her to take all of him in one deep thrust. 

Isabelle gasped into the chair, as he kept pushing forward, filling her completely and still going. She could feel the muscles in his legs flexing against the backs of her thighs as he strained to jam even more of his thick cock inside of her. His hands found her hips and pulled her back trying in vain to force her pussy to accept even more. Her pussy reacted and squeezed, almost as if she was trying to push him out but in essence wrapping herself even tighter around him.

This time it was he who gasped as he felt her pussy muscles clamp down tightly around him, providing a wet hot sheath to sink into. He began slowly, pulling his cock out to within an inch, then driving back into her in an agonizingly slow manner. His hips were pressed against her ass so tightly that Isabelle would have been surprised if anything could have gotten between them. 

She jutted her ass back against him, hoping he would drive his cock back into her. He obliged her and drove into her again. His cock was slick with her pussy juices and it was much easier for him to slide even farther into her. She felt him deep in her womb and knew a satisfaction that she hadn't experienced with any other man, including her husband. He kept up his slow deep fuck of her, driving his cock into her with a ferocity that couldn't be expressed, only felt. His grip on her hips only tightened as his body drove into hers, his hands leaving only to smack her ass occasionally. 

It was that exact incongruity that kept her off balance, the tenderness he exhibited versus the brutality of being taken against her will that made her pussy tighten and pull at him. She needed him. Needed the control he seemed to have over her body. The desire he had awakened in her only grew with each thrust of his large throbbing cock. 

Her neck snapped back as he grabbed hold of a handful of her hair and forced her to arch her back. She knew that he needed to see her ass jutting out, her pussy lips swollen and slick and full of him. And she needed him to see her, all of her. 

His thrusts grew faster, his cock sliding in and out under the tight friction. Her legs imprisoned by her panties ensured an even tighter fit. His thrusts reflected that as she felt him using all of his strength to drive into her, his balls slapping up against her ass. The pussy juices running out of her provided the soundtrack to their mating, making wet sloshing noises with every thrust. 

"I want you to squirt for me Isabelle. I want your pussy to gush over my cock. And I want your pussy squeezing my cock, milking me. CUM FOR ME!" He yelled out, demanding she acquiesce to his command. 

His cock seemed to grow as he pushed deeper into her. Her pussy responded to him and squeezed down, encasing him fully as her walls contracted and released around him. She was panting when another orgasm ripped through her, causing her to buck wildly and slam her hips against him over and over. He gave a loud shout, thrusting forward once more as his cock exploded, the hot gush bathing her womb. He shuddered as it was his turn to pour out inside of her. 

The only sound left in the room was the sound of their breathing. Her pussy was still contracting around him and he was still hard inside her. Isabelle lay her face down on the cushion and tried to catch her breath. Her entire body felt like Jell-O, soft and squishy all over. She felt him pull out and immediately wanted him back, her insides aching at the empty spot he left behind. 

His hand caressed her still jutting bottom, stroking the flesh he had only minutes ago smacked. He slipped his arms under hers and pulled her to a standing position. Pulling her back to him, he cradled her where they stood, her back to his front. His hands splayed over the front of her protectively, as if to say this is mine, do not touch. Isabelle leaned into him, feeling his arms wrapped around her and knowing that without his strength she would not be standing. He placed several kisses on her shoulder then reluctantly pulled himself away to walk her back to the bed. 

He gently laid her back down and kissed her lips once more. The need she felt in that kiss had her arms snaking out to wrap around his neck and pull him closer. He indulged her and himself and let her hold him, if only for a moment. She sighed into his mouth, loving the feel of his mouth on hers. 

She had to stop herself from holding on to him when he began to untangle her arms from around his neck. She wanted to cry in disappointment when she felt him move away from the bed. She knew he was going to leave and she didn't want him to. Not yet. 

"I must go Isabelle. I want you to remember that you are mine. You'll always be mine, and no matter who you're with it will always be me you'll crave." 

"I know." She whispered into the darkened room, wishing she could see his face just once. He had left an indelible mark on her that she wouldn't ever forget and she wanted to know what he looked like. 

"Are you coming back? I mean will you come back?" She asked quickly. 

"No. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I was just going to have you the way I wanted you and that was it. No more, love, you'll just have to live with the memory of my skin on yours, of my cock sliding into your pussy over and over." 

"And how are you going to forget about it?" She asked her voice testy from being denied. 

"Who says I will?" He answered. He quickly adjusted his clothes and bent over to gather his belongings. He stopped at the end of the bed where she sat watching him in the dark. He leaned down and captured her mouth once more, letting his tongue sweep into her and taste her one last time. 

"Goodbye Isabelle." He whispered. 

"Goodbye." She whispered back, the tears rolling down her cheeks freely. She didn't know if she could live knowing that this man existed out there somewhere without her. Her heart was breaking and she could only hope that he would return. 

"Please tell me your name." She pleaded one last time, desperate to know more about him.

"I can't Isabelle." With that he turned and walked out of the room, leaving a stunned Isabelle sitting on her bed. She crawled up the bed and laid down trying to swallow her tears. 

Her hand brushed against something cold in the dark and she pulled away quickly before she realized what it was. His knife, he had left his knife in his rush to leave. She snatched it up and turned on the lamp on the bedside table to examine it. It was a well made knife, the handle was heavy and the blade balanced nicely. But what interested her most were the initials etched into it. D.S. Hmmm, so her mystery man's initials were D.S. Isabelle smiled into the dark, suddenly not so sad. She would see this man again; she would make sure of it. She had something to go on now.



Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 03



He said nothing, only stood there silently, his eyes locked into battle with hers, daring her to say anything, to scream, to run, anything but stare back in amazed silence. When Isabelle had left her bed after hours of tossing and turning to get a glass of water, nothing could have prepared her for the sight that greeted her in the hallway. He was back and casually leaning against the wall, waiting for her. 

She must have sensed it on some level. How else could she explain the fluttering sense of anticipation she had been feeling all night. There was no fear, only a slight, startled moment when she realized there was a stranger in her hallway. The surprise quickly turned into pleasure when she realized it was the stranger in her dreams. 

She tilted her head back to get a better look at the man who had been haunting her dreams. He seemed taller than before but then again she hadn't exactly been taking inventory of his attributes save for one at the time. The light coming out of the living room caught on his tousled dark hair and highlighted his lean form. He was good looking in a rugged way, with dark no nonsense eyebrows that slashed over dark gray eyes, a nose that said he'd been in a few fights and soft full lips that should have looked ridiculous on a man but only managed to make him look even more sensual. 

And he was a sensual man; she had experienced those sensual lips on her body and remembered how they had caressed her skin. Isabelle felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at the memory of his lips on her and quickly tried to steer her thoughts to other things, like why he was back after so long. 

"Why are you here?" She asked softly. 

"You know why Isabelle, don't play games. You're smarter than that. I'll answer your question though; I'm back because I'm hungry for you. But you already knew that didn't you?" He said, taking a step closer to the position she had taken leaning against the opposite wall. 

"I... well, yes." She had no intention of playing games, but the question was the first thing that had slipped out her mouth. Or maybe on a subconscious level she had wanted to hear him say it. She was no longer sure of her intentions anymore when it came to this man.  

"Are you hungry for me Isabelle?" He asked, searching her eyes for the answer, "Have you spent your nights dreaming about us?" His gaze drilled into hers, forcing a nervous laugh out of her as she turned away. 

Her answer didn't really matter, he could see through her façade. The nervous way she refused to look at him, her fingers grasping at the hem of her robe and twisting it into little balls of cotton said more than any lame answer she could give him.

Still he forced her to answer, taking a step closer to her and snaking a hand out to cup her chin, bringing her cat eyes up to meet his. His nearness stole the breath out of her, rendering her speechless as she locked eyes with him. God, she was so hungry for him, it was ridiculous for her to try and deny it. It was woven through the very fabric of her being, this lingering, insatiable hunger that twisted her dreams into dark sensual journeys she never wanted to awaken from. 

"Answer me." He said; his voice a rich baritone that floated through the air and hummed through her veins. 

"Yes, I'm hungry for you." She replied huskily, unable to stop the catch in her voice. 

He loosened his grip on her chin and began to rub her jaw gently. His hand flattened out and spanned her neck, lightly encircling it. Isabelle stood still, trying desperately to breathe normally but unable to move away from his mesmerizing hold. His touch wasn't threatening, at least physically she felt safe, but the hold he had on her was far more dangerous than any physical harm he could inflict on her. 

"How hungry?" He whispered, refusing to let her eyes escape his. 

Isabelle wanted to tell him she had lain awake almost every night since she had last seen him, reliving in her mind his touch, his taste, the pleasure he had given her, but something stopped her. She had never been an overtly sexual woman and expressing those things out loud wasn't something she was comfortable with. Instead she opted for the easy way out. 

"Very hungry." 

"You disappoint me, Isabelle. I can see in your eyes you want to tell me how much you missed me. What's stopping you?" 

She wanted to slide out of the room. Why couldn't he just cut her some slack? Wasn't the fact that she had never reported his actions proof enough of her need for him? Wasn't the fact that she refused to deny the attraction that existed between them enough? Now he wanted her to tell him all her dark secrets. Well she had news for him. She wouldn't be spilling out her need for him anytime soon. She seethed inside at his gall, refusing to answer his last question and instead lifted her chin to look him squarely in the eye.  

"There's nothing stopping me. I choose when and whom I will confide in. I simply choose not to confide in you. I mean, really, can you blame me? I don't even know your name." She said the last with a scathing look that emphasized her point.  

He chuckled in response and it threw Isabelle off for a moment, obviously not the reaction she had expected. 

"It's cute how you think you have a choice. Do you really think my name matters when this exists between us?" He asked, moving his hand farther down her throat and pushing her robe aside. "Do you think not telling me how much you want me is going to change this?" He asked his last question while his hand roamed freely over her breast, rolling his thumb over her nipple and pinching the hardened nub between his fingers. 

"You're a stubborn woman Isabelle. I'm going to enjoy punishing you." 

He stepped even closer, forcing her to inch closer to the wall in an attempt to put some distance between them. He refused to back up, and when she tried to scoot to the left he braced his arms on either side of her head, effectively blocking her exit. 


Fine, he obviously didn't want her moving away and Isabelle gave in with a muffled sigh. There was really nothing else she could do; he was much too big to fight off. She was more concerned about the punishment he was talking about. She knew from past experience that he had a sadistic streak, and while he wasn't cruel, she worried about the punishment he had planned. 

Finally giving in to the urge to look at him, she raised her gaze up to his to see a warm, amused heat glowing in his eyes. 

"Worried?" He asked; his lips quirking into a slight smile. 

"No." She stubbornly replied. 

"No? Hmm." 

"How about now?" He asked, leaning closer and placing his lips against her ear, lightly licking the hollow behind her ear. She felt the warm heat sliding against her neck about the same time she felt the evidence of his arousal against her leg. His big body pushed her against the wall, while his thighs trapped her in their grasp. 

She tried to move away from the heat searing her leg but he was quicker. His left hand snaked out and brought her hand behind her back, while his right hand did the same to her other hand. He deposited her other hand into his waiting left hand and held her loosely, pinning her to the wall with his body.  

"How about now, worried now Isabelle?" His voice was lower, the soft silky tones drifting into Isabelle's subconscious and sending up a warning signal. 

"No." She answered, determination to prove him wrong seething through her veins. 

"Hmm, ok. Guess I'm going to have to show you." 

Now she was worried. Show her what? Couldn't he just come here to take what he needed without humiliating her? Was it possible for him to have her without this constant power struggle? She wanted him, that much was true, but she refused to be some game he could play anytime the mood struck him. With that thought fresh in her mind she steeled herself to resist his every move. 

What she didn't know, couldn't have known was that his tenderness would ultimately be her un-doing. 

She hadn't been prepared for the soft kisses he rained over her face, nipping at her jaw with soft teasing bites. She couldn't have known how it would feel to have his full soft lips pressing warmly against the corner of her mouth, or the whisper of his breath against her earlobe. His lips brushed her eyelids and continued a path over the contours of her face. Her breathe came out in a soft sigh. 

His whispered confession sent a flame of heat throughout her core, shocking her with its vulgarity. Her nipples tingled and tightened against her will. 

"I need to hear you coming, I need to hear you panting with the strength of your orgasm, and I need to know it's because of me. Tell me you want that Isabelle, tell me about the need pulsing through you right now, about your pussy clenching tightly, wetness leaking out of those engorged lips. Tell me." 

She couldn't possibly speak. The rush of heat streaking down her body had left her thunderstruck. Her pussy clenching and grasping did nothing to soothe the ache or help to clear her head enough to enable her to speak. The way he had softly whispered in her ear had only put to words what her body already knew, that she did need him, her body knew what it wanted and he was willing to give it. Only he could stop this aching desire coursing through her system, and even then, for only a moment. 

His hands moved impatiently over her breasts, squeezing the rounded globes and lifting them out of the confines of her robe. Leaving the waist tied, he efficiently pushed the material to the side, clearing the way for his hands. He wasn't rough, nor was he gentle. He simply possessed, his fingers marking her flesh as his and committing the feel of her to memory. 

Isabelle felt every touch, it scorched her skin, and left her soul marked. Never had she felt a man's touch so impatient to possess. She had never felt truly possessed until he had put his hands on her. Now she knew she belonged to him, she simply hadn't known how glorious it would feel. He knew exactly where she wanted to be touched and how. It was like he was in her head, seeing her fantasies and then acting them out with her. 

"Tell me." He growled. 

Isabelle reacted with a clench, her insides roiling from his deep baritone. She took a deep breath and prepared to tell him what he was doing to her. 

"I need you, oh God, how I need you. My pussy lips are swollen and aching from wanting you. I've been dreaming about feeling your cock sliding into me." She paused to steady her voice. "You have such a long, thick cock. I remember how it felt to have you thrusting into me and I get wet all over again. Even now I can feel myself clutching for you, wanting to pull you into me and feel my pussy wrapped tightly around you." 

She heard him suck air into his lungs through clenched teeth and knew she had surprised him with her confession. She had surprised herself. These were not words she would have normally confessed but she had a powerful desire for this man. Her earlier determination had dissolved as soon as she had felt his hands caressing her. He knew how his touch would affect her; he knew her desire would supersede her reticence. And he knew it would get her to capitulate to his will. 

He adjusted his position until he was on her right side, her hands still held hostage by his left hand, and rubbed his erection against her leg. His member strained against the constraints of his jeans and throbbed against her skin. 

She could feel the heat emanating from him and longed to feel his heat slamming into her. She moaned low and deep in her throat, her hips moved on their own accord, thrusting forward in that age old mating dance. And still he didn't touch her where she yearned for him; he hadn't done more than softly caress her curves when he was removing her robe. She ached all over, her skin felt feverish and warm and she wanted his fingers stroking her.

His grip tightened on her wrists, pulling her back and completely against the wall. She tilted her head back to watch him with slanted eyes, wondering what he would do next. His mouth covered hers in one fell swoop, crushing her lips to his with a fierce grasp. He kissed like he made love, slowly at first, teasing and tasting, then building her up, taking her lips, her tongue and mating with them. 

The blending of their mouths was so carnal; so blatantly filled with need that it caused shivers to run down her spine and goose bumps to rise on her arms. She felt like she was being devoured, feasted on like a hawk would feast on its dinner. 

Dipping down he nibbled on her lower lip, sucking the tender flesh between his teeth. He licked her lip and circled it, and she remembered how his mouth had felt on her clit. How he had licked and circled her nub, how swollen she had felt in his mouth. 

He captured the moan escaping from her by covering her mouth, thrusting his tongue into her mouth in an imitation of his cock thrusts. She met his thrusts, her tongue mating with his, their lips meshed together and feasting on each other until he pulled away with a tortured laugh. 

"Damn. You have what I need Isabelle. I can't forget your taste, your touch, the way you feel pressed up against me like this. You're mine, this pussy is mine. This body is mine." 

He reached out and encircled her neck with the span of his large hand. He squeezed her neck lightly, forcing her head up to meet his eyes. They shared a long look, neither wanting to break the searing bond they shared. Not looking away for a moment his hand glided down her neck to her collarbone, staying there briefly and tracing its shape. 

Isabelle watched his eyes as he cupped her breast; then lifted her up by her nipple. She watched as his expression darkened with need, how his lips tightened when her nipple puckered under his fingers. She watched him as her pussy clenched with the rhythm of his fingers on her nipple. 

Sensing her complete arousal, his concentration sharpened, focusing on her other breast. He drew the nipple out slowly, watching the ripples form at its tip. He seemed fascinated by the way it rolled between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it back and forth and watching the flesh being squeezed and released.

"Look at you, look at the way you respond to me. Your body gives you away. Your lush, sweet pussy must be so wet right now. Hmm, I can't wait to feel that hot sheath encased around my cock, the thick cock that's throbbing for you right now, the one that's hard as a rock. You deserve to be punished for doing this to me, for making me want you like this." 

"I haven't done anything. You're the one who came to me." Isabelle couldn't help but try and defend herself. 

"Doesn't matter who came first my beautiful belle, I plan on coming last." He leered. 

She couldn't help but laugh at his wordplay but the laughter was short lived. He moved his hand off her breast and spanned her stomach with his palm. He spread out his fingers and kneaded the soft flesh, moving lower in slow circular motions. Hovering over her pubic mound she watched as he swirled ever closer but out of reach. She pushed up hoping to entice him into cupping her but was disappointed when he sidestepped her moves.  

His knuckles scraped her mound, tracing its shape; the pouty lips, the wet inner lips peeking out in an attempt to gain some attention, but steered clear of squeezing her mound like she wanted him to. Her breathing had started to shudder out of her in restless gasps, knowing this was her punishment, to have him this close to her dreams and to be denied at his pleasure. She was forced to wait, her insides clutched tightly, anticipating the moment she would feel him touch her most private regions. 

Her breathing stopped when she felt the first tug. He pulled again to get her attention, made her look down at what was happening to her pussy while she had no choice, while she was locked in his arms. What seemed to her to be a relatively small amount of hair was held tightly between his fingers. And he was pulling, pulling on her hair in short little tugs causing liquid sensation to fly through her veins. Her lips grew even more swollen with every tug and when he switched to the other side and began pulling on a different area she nearly screamed out her pleasure. 

He only watched, observing how she held herself, how she had nearly screamed then looked into his eyes as he continued pulling. Finding different little sensitive areas that he couldn't resist, he pulled and tugged, watching when her lips tried to find their way back into their folds. He loved the way her lips swelled, they were like a mouth seeking to suck on his cock and he would make sure his was the one.  

He stopped his tugging for just a minute, long enough to pull her hands from behind her back and pull them over her head where he held them in his grip. Then back to tugging, pulling on her pussy hair, forcing her to move with his tugs to ease the pain. Her hips surged towards him, hoping he would end his torture.  

"No Isabelle. You can't always have it your way, you know. I know your pussy is weeping for me right now. I know you want me to slide my fingers deep into that slit of yours, or maybe suck on your clit." He emphasized his point with a tug that accompanied every statement. "Oh no, sweet pussy, this time is for me. You can try to get your way; in fact I welcome your attempts, but don't think for a minute you will slip past me. This is my pussy and I'm claiming it." 

Isabelle sucked in her breath at his deep growling statement. He further emphasized his point by nearly grabbing all her pussy hair and pulling, knowing she would follow. She offered up her pussy to his hand, following his movements and desperately aching to feel his fingers on her moist slit. His finger slipped accidentally, sliding over and around her clit, but wait that wasn't right, he didn't do anything accidentally. He had deliberately let her feel his finger coming ever closer to her hardened clit. 

"Please." She whispered, the word coming out strangled. 

"Please, what? Tell me what your pussy wants." 

"I need your fingers inside me now, please. I ... oh God, Please." She nearly choked having to beg him to touch her but the waiting was unbearable. She felt ready to explode with desire for him. 

Suddenly he pushed her up against the wall hard, his body pinning her with his hips. There was no need to tie her this time; she was bound to him as surely as if the cold steel of handcuffs were wrapped around her wrists. There was nothing that bound her to him save for the memories of the nights he had visited her. In that, she was a slave to the master of her memories. Yet he refused to let go of her wrists, she belonged in his hand, had to be bound to him by more than emotion, he needed her under his domain. 

His grip on her wrists tightened as he pushed her up even harder against the wall, ramming two fingers into her pussy at the same time. She gasped at the violent contact. Her pussy clutched his fingers like they were a lifeline, pulling and dragging him back into the swirling riptide inside her. Her hips arched wildly, meeting his fingers as he pushed into her again and again. 

His mouth covered hers hotly, wetly, swooping down to claim her partly open mouth. He matched his thrusts to the thrusts of his fingers, drawing her up, over and over. He knew the exact moment when she was about to come; she made a little sound in the back of her throat that escaped into his mouth. He immediately stopped his thrusting and waited. She was still clutching at him, trying to pull him back into her but he waited and held her still and watched the fury come into her eyes when she realized he had just denied her an incredible orgasm. 

She watched him warily out of her cat eyes, trying unsuccessfully to look down her nose at him. She lost the game when he wiggled his fingers inside of her, rubbing the tight walls. Gasping instead, she arched towards his cruel fingers. 




Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 03



Smiling grimly, he continued to move his fingers slowly inside of her, swirling them in a circular motion, hitting every slick surface. He moved them up until he found her G-spot, where he concentrated his attention for a moment, rubbing the swollen flesh until she bore down. His grip on her pussy tightened and he pulled up, forcing her to stand on her tiptoe's to accommodate his hold. He held her in his tight grip, looking into her eyes and holding her pussy and her orgasm in his hand. He knew one small movement and he would feel her gush out over him but he held off, enjoying watching her frustration and need. 

Slowly he withdrew his fingers, caressing her lips as he left the warm grip of her pussy. He circled her clit and pinched the hardened nub between his thumb and forefinger. She moaned and pushed forward when his fingers squeezed her clit, hanging on the edge of her endurance. 

The wetness pouring out of her prevented him from gaining a firm grip, so her clit slid in and out of his grasp. He was greedy, never satisfied with just pinching the nub, he had to roll it between his fingers, pulling the hard little button up and watching it slip back between her lips. She felt him watching her and looked up to see his eyes darkened with desire and completely focused on her. 

His eyes never left her as he reached down and lifted her leg over the crook of his arm, then closed the distance between them again. She felt the rough material of his jeans scraping against her lips, swollen from his endless tugging. She almost came when he purposely brushed his stiff cock against her lips, surging forward until he was cradled between the wet folds. She arched forward to allow him more access. 

He released her hands and she clutched at his shoulders, pulling him into her now that he had allowed her the use of her hands. The feel of his shoulders strong and tensed under her fingers opened the door to her hunger and she fed it, her hands exploring his entire chest and neck. 

He allowed her hands to roam free, enjoying the feel of her passion. She made quick work of his shirt, unbuttoning it and pushing it aside to explore the furry mat of hair on his chest. He sucked in his breath when her fingertips brushed over his nipples, giving them the same attention he had given hers. He watched fascinated as she blazed a trail over his skin, leaving an indelible mark wherever she went. 

The button on his jeans gave her some trouble and he quickly lent a hand. Making quick work of the zipper, she slipped her hand into his jeans and cupped his erection. He throbbed in her hand, jerking when she squeezed the bulging mass. She traced his shape, her finger outlining him through his briefs. He was everything she remembered. The thick, jerking member made her mouth go dry with wanting. 

He angled his body just a tad sideways until he was almost under the leg he held. After quickly pulling his briefs and jeans down, he knocked her hands aside and secured both hands on either side of her hips. The head of his cock was jutting against the top of her mound, and he was pushing it forward even more. 

She was in a precarious position, balancing on one leg and being pushed into a wall by a hulking stranger leading with his cock. Her legs were spread wide open to allow him all the access he needed and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. She didn't like feeling helpless but something about him triggered a whole spectrum of feelings, mainly, mind-blowing lust. 

Without warning he pushed in, allowing just the tip of his cock to invade her pussy, leaving her to gasp at his throbbing heat. His head circled her opening again and again. He watched as her juices flowed over him. He pulled back out, watching her lips drape his cock and listening to the liquid notes they made together. He slowly pumped in and out, displacing more liquid from her and coating his cock further. 

Looking into her eyes again, he encircled her neck with his hand, squeezing lightly, letting her know she was his. Isabelle's pussy clamped down in excited anticipation. His cock pushed in another inch, and he squeezed again. He was only a quarter inch in but she felt his throbbing in every beat of her heart. The steady thrum, thrum of his engorged member matched the thrumming vibrating through her. 

"Your pussy feels so good milking my cock, sucking on it. I'm going to fuck that pussy good, I need to punish it. I need to fuck every wall of your pussy. First, I'm going to fuck your left wall; then I'm going to fuck your right wall. Then I'm going to angle my cock downwards to fuck your bottom wall. I need to be thorough you understand. You know that little spot on the top wall," He shallowly pumped in and out. "Yeah, where your g-spot is, that's where I'm going to fuck you last." He whispered gruffly in her ear, squeezing her neck to emphasize his words. 

Her breath was coming out in harsh gasps as she absorbed his statement. His cock still hadn't moved past his initial entrance and was steadily throbbing against her swollen pussy walls. He was lazily pumping in and out of her, never going past the quarter inch mark. She didn't think she could take any more, she was beyond ready to explode, her pussy clutching and pulling on him. 

"Please, please." Isabelle cried. 

"Please what Isabelle?" He answered, smirking. "Say it. Please what?" 

"Please fuck me!" She yelled out, desperate to feel his cock embedded in her.

"Say it again."

"Please fuck me. Please fuck me." She whimpered. 

"Say it again." He said, pushing his cock deeper into her ready pussy. 

"Please fuck me, please fuck me, please fuck me." It became a chant that Isabelle kept repeating, no longer sure if she was even saying it out loud anymore. 

Vaulting her leg even higher over his arm, he rammed his cock home, driving into her in one deep thrust, his hand squeezing her throat. He stayed there, letting her feel his cock jerking deep in her womb. Her pussy responded, clenching around him every time her jerked. 

Every time he squeezed her throat her pussy wrapped tighter around him. She began to suspect that that was his motive. He jerked, she squeezed, he held her neck tighter and she squeezed, she squeezed and he jerked. But, oh, the sensations coursing through her pussy were magnificent. 

Her pussy jumped when she realized he was following through on his promise to fuck all of her walls. She felt him sliding over her left wall, familiarizing himself with the feel of her. He moved to the right wall, pumping in and out slowly, dragging his head against her slick wall. The breath flew out of her when she felt him angling downward and scraping her bottom wall. God, he was so good. 

"You're the only woman I've ever wanted to fuck like this, to fuck every single wall. I need all of that pussy wrapped around me, to feel each part of you like this. I want you to cum for me Isabelle. Cum for me. Squeeze your pussy tighter babe, that's right, cum for me." 

His words triggered a spasm of sensation inside her pussy. She clamped down on his cock and felt him driving into her harder and harder. He was so thick and long, like a tree trunk. 

"I've been thinking about fucking you like this Isabelle. LIKE THIS!" He thrust forward, his legs straining to push more of his bulging cock into her. "And like this." He rammed into her again, almost lifting her off the floor. 

"Like this." His words were punctuated by his deep thrusts and tortured groans.

Isabelle lost it, with her pussy wrapped around him so tightly and him fucking her so deeply she couldn't stop the orgasm from ripping out of her. 

"Oh GOD! Please!" She screamed as her release came. Her pussy let loose with a hot spurt of cream, slicking his cock even more. She felt his body shudder and with a muffled shout he came, his hot liquid shooting into her core. 

The stayed there like that until they could both breathe again, his cock still embedded deeply inside of her. She could feel her pussy quivering around him while he continued to pulsate.

"I can feel you fluttering around me. I'm still hard Isabelle. Do you see what you do to me?" His hand circled her neck tighter, moving his hips in a circular motion. 

Isabelle wasn't sure she had anything left to give, considering she had just had one of the most earth shattering orgasms of her life. But she was amazed to feel herself respond to his earnest stroking. 

"Flutter, flutter." He whispered. She responded with a clutch, trying to pull his cock deeper. 

Slowly, he lowered her leg and pulled out. He released his hold on her neck and looked down at their cum coating his cock. He looked down at her pussy, swollen and wet from the fucking he had just given her. She jutted out at him, her lips full and waiting for him to fuck her again. Reaching up he pinched her nipples and watched as they hardened further under his fingers. 

"This pussy is mine Isabelle. Don't forget that, ever. When I come to you, I take what I need, I don't ask because it's mine. Do you understand?" Entangling his hands in her hair, he made her look at him. "You are mine, I can't be bothered with trifles like asking you what you want, you have what I need and I'm going to take what I need, whenever I need it." 

Isabelle felt a jolt of panic at his words but she also knew them to be true. She answered him the only way she knew how, with naked honesty and good old fashioned smart-ass.

"I understand. But shouldn't I know my owner's name?" She smiled sweetly back at him. 

He threw back his head and laughed. 

"God, you are majorly cute when you're being insolent. Course I'm going to have to show you the error of your ways." He wiggled his eyebrows ominously. 

"Great way to change the subject. Just like a man." She rolled her eyes and tried to pull away from his grasp. His grip was firm though, making it clear he was not going to let her go on her terms. 

"Not changing the subject Isabelle. I have my own priorities, as do you. They just don't happen to be the same right now. If my priority becomes such that I need to tell you my name I will. Until then, get down on the ground, on your knees, I'm not finished with your pussy. My cock is still hard for you and I need to fuck your pussy with your ass in the air."

Isabelle gasped in outrage at his calmly uttered rebuff. As if she was just going to get down and offer him her pussy after what he just said. When he didn't release his hold on her hair she knew she wasn't going to have a choice. 

He pulled her closer to him, using her hair as his weapon of dominance. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "Flutter, Flutter." 

Isabelle tried to keep the shock off of her face when she felt her pussy respond but he was watching her too closely to miss the quick grimace that passed over her face. DAMN HIM! Even if she didn't want him, even if she found him to be the most repulsive man alive, her pussy would still respond to him and he knew it. 

Resigned to her fate, she started to lower herself to the ground; he wasn't feeling patient and pulled her down faster by the grip he had on her hair. He released his grip momentarily to remove the rest of his clothes and position himself behind her, pushing her shoulders towards the ground. Then he clasped her hips, pulling her back against his cock. 

He was rock hard and pulsating against her lips. She was already dripping wet from their earlier fucking and was surprised to feel her pussy tightening in anticipation. His head bumped against her lips and she arched, offering up her pussy. Just like that, that's how fast he was able to stir her arousal to a point of total submission. To a point where she would give all just to have his cock inside her once more. 

He didn't disappoint her, pushing his cock into her pussy and listening to the slurping noise she made when he pulled out. Tightening his grip on her hips, he pulled her back against him again, allowing more of his cock to enter her tight sheath. She gripped his length, shuddering when she felt his cock head swelling. He was so hard, pulsing and thickening inside her until she was ready to explode. She wanted him to fuck her again, hard and deep. She wanted it to hurt deep in her womb, wanted his cock ramming into her without abandon. Arching back towards him, she hoped to achieve her goal. 

He responded by tightening his grip on her left hip and exerting just enough pull to guide her back to him. Then he repeated his action with the right hip. The effect was essentially to make her fuck him, one hip at a time. He repeated his actions, grabbing first one hip then the other, making her pussy roll over him. 

When she didn't move the way he wanted he slapped her ass. The first slap was somewhat of a surprise to Isabelle. Why, she didn't know, he had spanked her before. This was not something new; she just hadn't been expecting the sharp sting she felt on her ass and the resulting clench of her pussy. But he had. Smack! Another sharp slap brought an equally sharp clenching, weakening Isabelle's already weak position. 

Her hips continued to move in the slow, grinding, rolling rhythm he had set for her. Taking a chance, she decided to increase the pace, she wanted his cock pounding into her and Isabelle was losing her patience, fast. 

"Now, Now, Isabelle. I take what I need remember, and right now I need to watch your ass moving in that delicious motion like it is right now. I need to feel your pussy fucking me like this and if you try to do things your way, remember this, you're going to lose. I know you want to cum just as badly as I do, but this is my pussy. You will fuck me like this until I tell you to stop, otherwise...." He let the unspoken threat hang in the air. 

She gritted her teeth and moved her hips back one at a time, rolling them in a tight circular motion set by his hands on her hips. When she moved too fast or got sloppy in her eagerness, he brought her back down with a smack. She was beyond caring about the smacks on her ass, they no longer hurt, her ass anyway. Her pussy was another matter entirely, each time his hand slapped against her ass cheek, her pussy would swell even more, clutching and sucking on his cock. His cock was growing harder and bigger inside her and the urge to cum was so intense she had to bite her lip to stop from cumming. And so she could keep fucking him the way he wanted. 

"Ahh, good girl Isabelle, good girl. You have such a sweet pussy, such a tight, incredible pussy. I'm going to fuck you now Isabelle, the way you want me to. I'm going to fuck you so hard that when I'm all the way inside of you, you're going to be able to see my legs straining, still trying to push more cock inside of you. Is that what you want Isabelle? Hmm? I know you're trying very hard not to cum right now because you know I don't want you to yet and that's good. But when I'm pounding your pussy later and I tell you to cum over my cock, you're going to squirt me with your pussy juice. But not until I tell you to." 

Smack! Smack! He landed two slaps close together, almost causing her to cum on the spot. The combination of his words and the clenching of her pussy caused by his slaps was almost too much, and she cried out helplessly, shuddering and hanging on by the merest thread of control. 

He released his hold on her hips and ran his hands over her ass and up her ribcage. Letting his hands slide under her, he squeezed her breasts, lifting them by her nipples. She gasped at the new sensations he was causing and arched back again, trying to pull his cock further into her. 

Entangling his hands in her hair once more, he pulled her back against him, thrusting his cock as far into her as he could go, throbbing violently. And still he kept pushing, she saw the way his legs were straining and she knew he was keeping his word. He didn't stop until she was gasping and struggling against his hold on her and then it was only to pull out and repeat the whole process over again. Drive, Slam, Throb. 

He used his hold on her hair to control her movements, not allowing her to push back against him. No, he had her exactly where he wanted her and he was not going to let her get what she wanted until he was ready. 

Drive, Slam, Throb. Drive, Slam, Throb. Isabelle was shaking, her body responding to each thrust with a tightening, and each time he drove his cock deep into her womb she felt her walls collapsing around him. She swore she could feel every vein that pulsated throughout his cock. 

Drive, Slam, Throb. He was relentless, pushing into her at the pace he had set. Not allowing her to move, unless he was directing her movements. Suddenly his grip on her hair tightened as he pulled her head to the side.

"I need to watch your face as I fuck that pussy of yours Isabelle. Are you ready to cum Sweet Pussy?" He punctuated his question with another deep thrust. 

"Yes, oh yes, please." She pleaded. 

"Hmm, good. I want you creaming my cock, milking me, sucking on me." 

He slammed into her again and again, driving home his words with throbbing violent thrusts. Isabelle was helpless to do anything, except feel his cock and listen to the loud squishing noise they made when he was boring into her. Her control snapped and she pushed against him, taking his cock even deeper and feeling the fluttering of her pussy. 

His hand landed a smart blow to her ass check but he didn't release his hold on her hair. He pulled back once more, forcing her to accept even more cock. He finally issued the command that would release her from her bonds, at least temporarily. 

"Cum for me Isabelle. CUM FOR ME NOW!" He shouted the last command, the strain of his voice indicating just how thin the thread of his control had become. 

Isabelle felt her body rippling, shuddering when his cock drove into her over and over. His shouted command had the desired effect and she came, the muscles in her pussy contracting tightly around him and pulling from him what she ultimately desired, his seed pouring into her. 

She wasn't sure how long they stayed that way, his hands entangled in her hair, his cock still throbbing inside of her but she knew she never wanted it to end. 

Eventually he pulled out of her. He settled himself on the floor and pulled her down on top of him. She was still shaking from the strength of her orgasm and wasn't sure she could speak. Her body felt like it had been used, thoroughly used. She tingled all over and loved the way he felt holding her. 

She dreaded what would come next. He would leave again, and leave her to wait and wonder if he would come back. She hoped what she was about to say would make him understand that she simply couldn't tolerate being away from him for very long anymore. Her hunger for him was absolute. 

"Please don't leave and act like you're not going to come back. I want you to come back, as often as you can. Don't even try to act like what happened between us is normal everyday sex for you, I know it's definitely not the norm for me and I just can't stand the thought of not seeing you again." She risked a glance at his face to see what he thought and saw him gazing up at her with wonderment in his eyes. 

She was momentarily stunned by his look of wonder but hoped that it meant he would come back. Please God let him come back. 

Wrapping his arms tightly around her, he whispered into her ear, "Try to keep me away." 

She smiled into his shoulder and held on to the last few moments they had. Before she could relax though, he began to move her off of him and reach for his clothes. She knew it was silly to care so much for a man for a man she didn't even know, much less one whose name she didn't even know, but she did care. Too much. 

She also knew that no amount of begging, wheedling or cajoling was going to get him to stay anywhere he didn't want to. Resigned to the facts, she began to look around for her robe. After finding it in a heap on the floor, she flung it over her shoulders, and watched him as he dressed, trying to memorize the features of his face to savor later in her dreams. 




Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 03



Once dressed, he stepped over to where she was currently trying to curl herself into a ball. He opened his arms and she stepped into them. The feeling that she was home was a strong one, one she couldn't ignore. He held her for a little bit longer, kissing her softly before turning and walking down the stairs and out the back door. 

Isabelle held her breath for a moment; half hoping he would come back this instant. When it didn't happen, she told herself she would be ok even though deep down she wasn't sure. She cleaned up the mess they had made with their lovemaking and went to get the glass of water she had intended to have before his arrival.

Settling down with a glass of water and a pillow hugged tight to her chest, Isabelle wondered what the future held for her and her mystery man.



Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 04



She pressed up against the brick wall of the house to avoid being seen, shivering in the freezing wind. This had to go in the record book as the stupidest idea she'd ever had. When did breaking and entering into someone's house in the middle of the night ever sound like a good idea? Sure, it seemed easy enough on paper but wait until you're out in a dark alley with the temperature hovering in the low 20s.

She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the next step. If you're going to be stupid you might as well be stupid all the way. And Isabelle had always been one to give her all. She crept towards the back door and reached under the potted plant to retrieve the key she had used countless times in the past. She had been here before many times, usually to water the plants and air out the house.

The house belonged to Beatrice Sterling, or it had until she passed away three months ago. Beatrice's son and daughter had inherited the house but she figured no one had gotten around to removing the key. And she was right. The key was tucked securely under the same tired old plant. Now came the hard part; actually using it.

Was she really going in there to enact her revenge on D.S.? She hadn't been able to stop thinking about the nights he had visited her. It was all his fault; she would have been content to be a housewife her whole life, never knowing what was missing until he came to her house that first night. Now he was all she could think about.

She had spent a good amount of time pondering D.S.'s identity. She had made a mental list of everyone she knew, crossing out names and ruling certain people out automatically because of their physical characteristics. But she hadn't been able to pinpoint who D.S. was in that list. No one she knew, so to speak, fit the profile.

It wasn't until Beatrice had passed that a spark of memory came to Isabelle. She remembered spending afternoons with Beatrice on her back porch, drinking sweet tea and being told stories about her son Dillon. He was, according to Beatrice, a handsome man, but so many parents think their children are attractive. Judging by the looks of Beatrice, she had a hard time imagining her son as handsome. Beatrice wasn't ugly; she was just a huge hulking woman, with graying hair and large, doughty features.

Dillon had visited his mother often, so for that he was a good son. She had never met him, but had spent time with his sister, Cheryl, on Beatrice's back porch. Cheryl didn't seem as impressed with Dillon's achievements, as siblings are often harder to impress.

Beatrice could talk of little else. Dillon was visiting, could we help her clean? Dillon sent this wonderful bouquet of flowers; could we put them in a vase? Oh, and wash out the vase first, pretty please? Beatrice was old so we forgave her bossiness and did as much as we could to help, even if it meant slaving over her house for an entire Saturday and neglecting our own duties at home.

But she knew she had more than a little resentment built up towards Dillon, as he was the cause of countless hours of cleaning. Cheryl did as well judging by the dark looks she shot her mother's way every time Dillon's name was mentioned; which was often. 

Beatrice's passing had taken her mind off of D.S. temporarily, at least until the funeral. At the graveside service, Cheryl and her family had huddled together under an umbrella. Standing right behind Cheryl was the acclaimed Dillon. She had surreptitiously tried to study the man Beatrice had raved about, hoping he wouldn't notice a married woman with husband and children in tow staring at him.

Beatrice hadn't lied when she told of his good looks. He was handsome, with dark brown hair that curled carelessly over his scalp, deep gray brown eyes that probed into your mind, and long graceful fingers. Why she noticed his fingers when there was so much more to notice bothered her, but notice them she did. He had broad shoulders encased in an expensive black suit that fit his somber attitude but didn't quite match the glint of mischief in his eyes. He stood there with his family and did his duty with class and grace, never once giving anything away in his demeanor.

She, however, wasn't that lucky or good at being surreptitious and had left her class and grace at home. He had caught her staring at him and raised an eyebrow in her direction. She couldn't be sure but she sensed a glimmer of humor in his eyes, as if he found it amusing that he had caught her. Then he did something so bizarre, well, bizarre for a funeral, that she had literally staggered. He had blown her a kiss.

A kiss for crying out loud! What had that been about? She had quickly looked away and hadn't looked at him again for the rest of the service. Or at least when she looked she made sure she wouldn't be caught. After the service she took her family home and grieved for Beatrice, for even though she had been an old curmudgeon, she had been her friend. She would miss her a great deal.

It wasn't until later that images of Dillon started to interrupt her thoughts. There had been something familiar about him, something she couldn't place. It wasn't just that she knew so much about him from Beatrice, there was something else. She just couldn't figure it out.

A memory of something that had happened at the funeral had kept replaying in her mind. At one point during the service, when she had been successful at studying him without being detected, or so she thought, he had ran his hand down his niece's face and that movement had struck a chord in her. It was the same lazy stroking her rapist had used. She had brushed it off at the time but it had continued to haunt her.

Could Dillon be D.S.? The questions had jumbled up in her head. She couldn't be sure but knowing Beatrice like she did, she was almost positive she had talked about her to Dillon, but why would he have chosen her to rape? Surely there were more attractive, young, nubile women out there? No resentment there, she snickered. He was certainly attractive enough to get his own dates without force. So why choose her? As far as she knew the funeral was the only place she had ever come into contact with Dillon and even that had been extremely limited.

Shortly after the funeral Dillon had moved into his mother's house. She hadn't been back since Beatrice had passed but Cheryl had kept her up to date on Dillon's activities. She could have cared less what Dillon was doing as she had heard enough about Dillon from Beatrice to last a lifetime but she had listened politely anyway. 

What did she care if Dillon was fixing up his mother's house? As far as she was concerned he should have done that when Beatrice was alive. But Cheryl seemed to have gotten over her sibling rivalry now that Beatrice was gone and Dillon was her only surviving relative.

She had only half listened when Cheryl had talked about Dillon's latest achievement, something to do with producing music. But she remembered clearly sitting bolt upright when Cheryl said the name of his production company, D.S. Productions. 

Then she had turned into a fiend, asking Cheryl questions about Dillon's work, where he worked, how long had he been using D.S. in his business name? She stopped short of asking what his schedule had been when that mysterious visitor had come to her house and before Cheryl got suspicious. She had never before shown any interest in Dillon so she didn't want to give anything away.

After that conversation, she had started doing some investigating of her own. She checked out D.S. Productions and was able, through their website, to see where D.S. had been during that time and found out he had been in town, both times. She was also able to read the web profile on D.S. and gleaned a few more interesting tidbits of info from that. The biggest clue had been the company logo, a knife with D.S. engraved on the handle and Productions running down the blade. That was when she knew the identity of her rapist. That was when she began to plan.

She didn't want to go to the police; it would be her word against his. She didn't have confidence that she would be believed and without DNA evidence it seemed useless to go through all that. Truthfully, she didn't want him jailed for what he had done. But she did want revenge for the desires he had awakened in her. He deserved to pay for the hunger he had instilled. So she had watched Dillon, trying to find out his habits, trying to figure out for sure if he was the one who had disrupted her world.

Based on what she had seen, he could very well be her mysterious visitor. He was the right height, his hair was the right color and he moved with an animal like grace she had witnessed only a few times before. Plus, his being her rapist made sense; there had been no evidence of a break-in at her house, only someone with a key could have gotten in. Beatrice had had a key to her house. She was certain it was him and that led her to come up with this plan. This stupid, stupid plan! What was she thinking? When her husband informed her he was taking off on his usual weekend trip with the kids, she had gone into action.

Now, teeth chattering, she stood on Beatrice's back porch and listened to the night, trying to discern if anyone else was out there. She held the key in her palm and rubbed its rough edges, torn between enacting her revenge and going home to her warm bed. She should go home and forget this man ever existed but she couldn't forget, wouldn't ever forget. With that thought she felt a kernel of courage, she couldn't forget and she was willing to bet money that he hadn't forgotten either.

She stepped forward and slid the key into the lock. It turned smoothly and opened easily. She pushed the door open and stepped into the darkened kitchen. This breaking and entering stuff was easier that she thought. She placed her bag down on the kitchen table; thankful she had been in the house so many times before and knew where everything was.

She removed her heavy winter gear and proceeded to dig through her bag. Knife: check. Rope: check. Blindfold: check. She was looking forward to making him pay. She quickly stripped out of her street clothes until she was clothed in only a small tank top, even smaller panties and the skimpiest bra she owned. She grabbed her gear and crept up the stairs to the master bedroom.

She stood in the shadows of the doorway and watched Dillon as he slept. Had he done the same to her? How long had he been in her house with her completely unaware? She shivered just thinking about him watching her in the dark. But she didn't take her eyes off of his sleeping form. He had thrown the blankets off during the night and lay sprawled and entangled in the sheets.

Her mouth went dry as she studied him in the shadows. This was the first time she could look fully at the man she had been dreaming about for months. He was big, but then she had known that. His chest was covered in a fine mat of dark curly hair that led straight down his belly towards his cock. His arms and legs were muscular and also covered with that same dark curly hair.

She crept closer to look at his face, hoping he wouldn't wake just yet. She reached out a hand to caress him, her fingers aching to touch his sleep roughened cheek, but then she remembered; she was here for revenge.

She quickly backed up and reached into her bag for the rope. She silently moved to the headboard and tied the rope to it, leaving two ends down. She had to be careful, he was much stronger than her, so she only had one chance to tie him down and she had to do it right the first time. She put the knife on the ground next to the bed but still within reach and quickly tied knots in the rope that she could then slip over his wrists. She wasn't an expert in tying knots but that was what the internet had been invented for. She finished the knots and thought about how she should do this.

His hands were close enough that she was sure she could grab at least one, the question was would she be fast enough to grab both without waking him up.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart and grabbed a hand, slipping the rope over it and pulling it tight. She moved to the other side of the bed and was reaching for the other hand when he let out a small groan. She froze and watched to see if he would awaken. He didn't wake up, but pulled slightly on the rope as he adjusted his position slightly. Isabelle quickly snagged his other hand and secured it.

She was sure he was going to wake up at any minute so she snatched the blindfold up and bent over him. She placed the silken blindfold over his eyes and tied it haphazardly, in too much of a hurry to secure it as well as the rope.

She felt a shift in the atmosphere and knew he was awake. She sensed his confusion and his panic at being tied up but knew it was too late for him to do anything about it. She didn't know she had it in her, but she relished his confusion, his frustration, for it was the same confusion and frustration she had felt the first time he had visited her bedroom. She truly didn't know where this sadistic streak in her had come from but she would use it to exact some of what he had coming to him.

"What the hell?" He growled, coming fully awake and pulling on his restraints.

"I see you're awake," she murmured in response.

"What are you doing Isabelle?" he asked, trying to move, but she was happy to note the ropes held. She was also secretly thrilled that he recognized her voice.

"I believe its called revenge. Yes, that's it, I'm getting revenge. How does it feel to be tied up with your eyes blinded, not having a clue what's going to happen to you next?" she whispered close to his ear, letting her warm breath cascade over his earlobe.

"You better release me Isabelle. You know what happens when you disobey me and this qualifies as seriously disobeying me."

She chuckled at his response. "I'm just taking what's mine." She repeated his words back to him.

"This isn't funny. Release me now." His voice had changed as he realized the situation in which he now found himself.

"No," she answered in her best don't mess with me voice.

She seated herself close to Dillon without touching him. She was careful not to get too close because even though he was tied securely, she didn't doubt that he was capable of getting loose if the situation called for it. 

She smiled in the dark; already imagining him squirming under her machinations. She was enjoying turning the tables on him. She was torn though. Part of her wanted to caress him, tease him, and taste his skin and yet another part wanted him to pay for what he had done to her. She knew she would never be the same, knew that no man would ever satisfy her unless it was him. She had no illusions that he felt the same way, but she wanted him to remember her at all costs. He had to pay for sentencing her to a lifetime of yearning.

She felt on the floor for the knife he had left behind and laid it gently across his chest.

"Do you recognize this D.S.? Or should I say Dillon?" she asked, waiting to see if he recognized the knife on his chest as being the same one he had left. "Did you think you could leave that behind and not get caught?" 

"That was a mistake," he answered tightly.

"Hmmm, yes, I suppose it was. I imagine you didn't think I could find you based on your initials. Tell me Dillon, were you planning on returning for your knife?"

She lifted the knife and ran the handle of it over Dillon's chest, moving the sheet a little farther down. She liked the sense of control she had over him. Her fingers were practically itching to touch his long, lanky body but she was here to make him pay, not to fulfill her own selfish desires. He still had not answered her question.

"Going to answer me Dillon?" she asked, her voice syrupy sweet.

"No, I wasn't going to come back."

"So you think it's okay to rape a woman and walk away without getting punished for your actions? Is that it?" She heard her voice starting to crack and took a deep breath to calm down.

"No, just you Isabelle. I had to have you. You call it rape; I prefer to call it something else."

"Why me Dillon?" she kept saying his name partly to hear it on her lips and partly to remind him she knew his identity.

When he didn't answer right away, she bent down close to his ear again and repeated her question.

"Why me?"

"I saw you with my mom. She was always talking about you, about how if things had been different you could have been her daughter. She was always badgering me to meet you so I could talk to the wonderful Isabelle. I managed to avoid you when you visited my mom, but I watched you through the window one time."

"And...?" she prompted.

"I liked what I saw."

"That's it?" she asked incredulously. "That can't be the only reason Dillon. After seeing you at the funeral I have a hard time believing that you can't get your own dates."

"Of course I can get my own dates," he said, indignantly, "but I wanted you."

"Why?" she repeated.

Dillon sighed into the dark room and didn't answer.

"Ok, if that's how you want to play it. You leave me no choice but to do what I came for."

He snickered. "And what exactly did you have in mind?"

"Well, since your eyes are blindfolded and you're tied to the bed, you'll have no choice but to wait and see," she snapped in response.

"Isabelle," he growled.

Isabelle moved off of the bed to give herself some distance. She had to be careful with him; if she continued to talk to him she might change her mind. She had come too far to stop now. She couldn't deny that she wanted him again either, hadn't stopped wanting him. So it was now or never.

She smiled as a thought came to her. She quickly stepped out of her panties, bra and tank top. She clenched her panties in her hand as she lifted the knife off of his chest and tucked it on the bed next to him. God, could she really go through with this? Should she? There would be recriminations of course, there always was. She decided to quell the annoying thoughts pinging in her head and gathered her courage.

She leaned down close to Dillon's mouth and placed a soft kiss on his lips. She lingered there a moment, letting her tongue softly trace the shape of his mouth. His lips were soft and full, she hadn't forgotten that, but still it was a shock to feel them again. Then he opened his lips to return her kiss, his tongue sliding out to meet hers. They stayed there motionless except for the dueling match occurring between their tongues; he because he had no choice and she because she couldn't have moved if her life depended on it.

It took all of her willpower to pull away from his mouth. She sucked air into her lungs once the contact had been broken and tried to focus her thoughts. Do it, she screamed at herself. Do it now. Before she could change her mind she lifted the hand that held her crumpled panties and brought them to Dillon's mouth. His lips were still slightly parted from their kiss so it was easy to shove them into his mouth.

He grumbled around the fabric in his mouth and struggled with the ropes, but she knew he couldn't do anything about it. She lay down next to him, reveling in the feel of his body coming into contact with hers. She moved closer until her mouth was next to his ear.

"How do my panties taste? Do you remember the taste of me Dillon?" she purred into his ear. "I remember you eating my pussy; I know you liked it."

He only grunted in response. But she could see the evidence of his arousal, even though the sheets covered his more private parts. She ran a finger over the sheet covering his jutting cock and heard him struggling to maintain his cool. She traced the shape of him, up one side and down the other. It felt so good to touch him, to know he was hers for the taking.




Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 04



She moved then to straddle him above the sheets, letting her already warm pussy hover over his cock through the sheet. She knew she was wet, she didn't know how it happened so fast with him, but it did. She could feel his hips jut up to meet her but she quickly adjusted her position so she would have the upper hand. He would not be the one in control this time.

She leaned down and bit one of his nipples through the sheet. She heard his intake of breath and knew she was getting to him. She laved at his nipple, wetting the sheet with her tongue. She felt his nipple stiffening, and fought the urge to grind her pussy down hard on his cock.

Isabelle moved to the other nipple and flicked it lightly, feeling it grow taut against her tongue. She gripped the sheet with her teeth and moved it down to just below his nipples, watching as both reacted to the night air. She grazed her palms over him and felt the hard nubs straining. Since he was the one who had been in control before she hadn't had the opportunity to touch him, to feel his skin as she had craved. She was quickly making up for that now.

She took one of his nipples into her mouth and suckled at it. She could hear him straining to breathe through his "gag". She flicked her tongue over the surface, feeling the hair of his chest tickle her nose. He felt so good, so warm, so solid and so hard. She licked his other nipple until she was satisfied it was as hard as the other.

She moved the sheet farther down and moved up to straddle his chest just below his ribcage. She settled herself lightly down onto his chest, rubbing her wet pussy against his chest. She knew she was wetting him but she didn't care. Isabelle moved her hips in small circles over one nipple until the stiffened point was mashed against her clit. She moaned at the sensation but didn't let it deter her from her objective.

A light flickered in the dark room and she turned to see the source of the illumination. There was a mirror on the opposite wall that must have caught a light from a passing car. She was shocked to see herself with her back arched, breasts out and hips undulating on Dillon's chest. The sight of her straddling his chest, with a look of supreme desire on her face, told her she was a goner. It also served to make her remember why she was here, for revenge.

She stopped her movements and moved her pussy closer to Dillon's mouth. It was a little awkward because his hands were tied above his head, but she was still able to arrange her pussy until it was within inches of his lips. All she had to do was move forward and his mouth would be on her clit. She pushed her mound forward until she felt his lips grazing her pussy. Her pubic hair rubbed against his mouth and she could feel him straining to reach her. She pulled back before he could reach her.

"Can I trust you not to yell for help Dillon?" she asked, reveling in the power she had in using the same words he had used.

When he nodded, she removed the gag from his mouth and looked down at his face. Even though she couldn't see his eyes she knew he was struggling to adjust to this new sensation of not being in control. Judging by his previous visits, he was a man accustomed to being in control at all times.

"Do you want to taste my pussy again? I remember how it felt when you sucked on my clit and I want you to suck on my clit again. Can I trust you not to bite me?" 

Isabelle knew she was playing with fire but didn't care.

"Yes, you can trust me not to bite you. This time," Dillon replied.

Isabelle laughed softly, reaching down to dip a finger into her wet pussy. Her finger slid effortlessly into her wet sheath, coating her. She pulled her finger out and ran it over his lips, watching his lips moisten with her pussy juices. His tongue darted out to lick the wetness from her finger but she wouldn't allow it, moving her finger out of reach and replacing it with her pussy.

She knew he could feel her pussy hovering over his mouth, and he worked to reach her. She kept just out of reach, torturing him and herself in the process. Isabelle wanted nothing more than to grind her lips against his mouth and feel his lips suckling her clit but she had to keep in control. So, instead, she moved her hips in a back and forth motion and in doing so managed to bring her clit even closer. She stopped just above his lips, watching his nostrils flare as he caught her scent.

Slowly she lowered herself until his lips were just touching hers, then she circled her hips again. His tongue slipped out and ran over her lips and this time she didn't move away. He stiffened his tongue and ran it up and down her slit. Isabelle couldn't stop the moan escaping from her lips when she felt his tongue gliding over her slit. He knew exactly what she wanted.

She gripped his head, pushing her hips down towards him in a circular grinding motion. His teeth clamped down on her clit and she stilled, knowing the precariousness of her situation. His tongue slid over the trapped surface, roughly gliding over the swollen bud until he felt the small contraction rippling underneath. 

He released her clit from his teeth and clamped his lips over her instead. Isabelle wanted to scream when he suckled her clit between his lips. He was excruciatingly gentle, his full lips surrounding her in a cloud of liquid heat. But she didn't forget for one moment that his gentleness could disappear in a heartbeat. 

She knew logically that she should move away, that she was the one in control, but he had the most amazing way of drawing out her desire and need that rendered her unable to fight the flames coursing through her. She surrendered briefly to the heat of his mouth, reveling in the sweet suckling of her clit.

Drawing on every last ounce of strength she had left, Isabelle forced herself to move away from his soft wet mouth. She sucked air into her lungs and moved farther down his body until she was no longer at his mercy. She was the one who was supposed to be taking her revenge out on him, not the other way around.

She was dismayed to realize that her hands were shaking and she could feel a distinctly wet heat pooling at her core. Gathering up what was left of her pride and courage, she reached for the knife and moved down Dillon's body until she straddled his stomach. The sheet that still entangled him did little to stop the heat generated between them.

She flicked open the knife. Dillon's mouth opened then shut as he realized what she held.

"Isabelle, what do you intend to do with that?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

"Shush," she whispered, not wanting his protests to distract her from her mission.

"ISABELLE!" he growled louder, this time pulling on the ropes entwined around his wrists.

Isabelle rode the bucking of his body calmly, watching with hooded eyes while he fought to free himself of the bonds. Satisfied that they would hold at least for a while longer, she turned herself to the task at hand.

The knife handle gleamed menacingly in the darkened room, catching what little light in the room off of its slick blade. She used the handle to brush his nipples, watching in silent satisfaction as his nipples hardened. The cold steel of the blade was next to touch his nipples. The shock of the cold surface brushing over him caused him to suck in a sharp breath.

She smiled and drew the knife handle over the soft pelt of dark hair leading down his stomach. She traced the shape of his belly button with the butt of the handle and watched as his breathing grew even more erratic. The fingers of her left hand drifted down on their own accord to graze over his chest. The fur-covered surface tickled her fingers and made her want to bury her face in the soft hair.

She moved lower, wriggling her hips until she straddled his bulging cock. The sheet prevented any accidental contact but she could still feel his throbbing heat beneath the thin cotton material. His hips thrust upwards when he felt the heat of her pussy hovering over him, but she moved up and away, letting him know in no uncertain terms that this was her game and her rules.

His growl of frustration pleased her. Never had she wanted a man with the intensity that he generated in her and she was secretly pleased that she could return the favor or curse, depending on how one chose to look at it.

Slowly lowering herself onto him, she indulged her desire to feel his cock nestled between her lips. The wetness seeping from her immediately wet the sheet, outlining the veined, angry head of his cock. Slight movement brought his head up against her clit. Gritting her teeth, Isabelle rolled her hips. His head ground against her overly swollen clit. She was the one who had to bite back a growl this time as her clit came into contact with his hard shaft.

She realized with a slight jolt that she was enjoying this far more than she had thought she would. Being in control of Dillon's passions, if only momentarily, was a powerful aphrodisiac. Knowing that she could set the pace of her revenge was sweet, for he deserved no less. If she were a more ruthless woman, she could certainly make it less pleasant than it already was. Briefly, she contemplated the various other ways in which she could make him pay. She smiled slightly in the dark until she thought of what he might do in return. It was enough to dampen her zeal for the revenge business.

Dillon was a man used to getting what he wanted, and she had no doubt that if she were to go too far he would hunt her down and make her pay. She also knew that his capacity for mercy would be severely tested at that point. The thought sent chills racing down her spine, in fear or anticipation she wasn't sure. The question was, what was too far? Shaking her head to clear her thoughts brought her back to the present and the man situated between her thighs.

His body felt so good and right nestled against hers. She found it difficult to concentrate on torturing him when she was fighting the urge to press close to him and taste his mouth while her lips cradled his cock. Instead, she used the knife handle to weave a pattern through the pubic hair at the base of his cock, swirling lazy circles through the curly thicket of hair.

The sheet was pushed down to his base, creating a cloth barrier that prevented both of them from gaining what they both desired. She felt his cock jump when the handle of the blade came too close. So she did it again just to feel him throbbing and jerking against her. When the answering throb in her grew too large and potent to ignore, she placed the cold steel blade close to his warm skin and felt his cock brush her clit harder and more urgently this time.

Deciding that the knife was becoming a hazard to both of them, she dropped it over the edge of the bed. She knew she was going to bear down on him and feel him grinding against her clit no matter what and it was better to do that without a knife in the way. The throbbing need growing inside of her was making her do things that didn't make sense in the light of day. Good thing it was dark.

His head was bulging with the strength of his erection. The contact sent little waves of heat throughout her entire body and chills broke out on her arms. She was shocked to find that she was so close to orgasm, she had only to come into contact with his body and she was beyond ready. At least with her in control he could not tell her when she could cum. She could cum on him anytime she pleased and there was nothing he could do about it.

Deciding that the sheet was no longer to her benefit, Isabelle adjusted their positions, pulling the sheet down to his thighs, effectively trapping his legs under the cotton and her body. While she trusted that the ropes around his wrists would hold for a little while longer, she was not so confident that he still had his legs free. Given Dillon's size, those legs could well become weapons against her.

His legs became the least of her worries though, when she felt the heat of his penis pressing upward towards her moist cleft. She allowed him to penetrate her outer lips, until he came to a rest at her opening. There she stopped his upward momentum, moving up and away until he dropped his hips. This was her game he would not be the one in control this time.

She dropped down slightly to capture him between her lips again, this time sliding him up towards her clit. The feel of her lips wrapped snugly around his shaft was enough to send her over the edge but she could not let him know how this was affecting her. The heat radiating from his cock caused her clit to jump, sending shockwaves shuddering through her. Isabelle knew this was dangerous, one more jolt from him and she would not be able to hide her response. It would be evident by the wetness seeping from her and coating him.

Sighing in frustration and need, she decided to turn her attention to his bulging cock, moving down his body until she straddled one of his knees. He immediately pushed his leg upwards towards her warm pussy, and this time she didn't resist, knowing that his knee was a poor replacement for his cock or his lips but she still desired the pressure he exerted against her. 

She trailed her hands over his stomach, watching as he drew in a sharp breath. She captured his cock with her hands and rolled the rigid flesh between her warm palms, gasping when she felt him thicken even more. She wanted to take him into her mouth and feel that thickening against her tongue.

Wanting to prolong the torture, at this point it was no longer clear who was the torturer and who was the tortured, she clamped a fist around the base of him, pulling his head up closer to her lips. She watched in fascination as his head expelled a tiny amount of pre-cum. She couldn't help herself as she leaned forward to catch the wayward drop before any was wasted. The instant her tongue touched his head she knew it was a mistake. Her hunger for him was all encompassing, one taste of him would never be enough to satisfy the burning desire coursing through her.

He was slightly salty, and somewhat sweet and oh so familiar, confirming what her tortured wet dreams had told her about him. She swirled her tongue over him, relishing in the feel of his veined marble-like head straining towards her. Could she really be this turned on by the taste of this man? His cock throbbed under her tongue, releasing yet another taste into her mouth. 

Isabelle clamped her lips over his cock head and ran her tongue around his head, exploring under the ridge of him. Her tongue immediately returned to the small hole at his tip to dip into gently and lave at slowly. She couldn't help herself, this was where the jewels were stored, and this was where she knew she could have her fill, if she chose to. She could drink of him until she was satiated, not until he said. It was a heady thought and one that brought with it the knowledge that she had all the time in the world at this moment to partake of this man, he couldn't just up and walk out when he was ready, he would have to abide by her rules until she was satisfied.

Her lips formed a smile around his cock. Power was a dangerous thing, especially when it was wielded by a woman in the state of mind she was in. Of course, she was intelligent enough to recognize that her power mad mind-set could be her greatest weakness, but until she lost the game, she would play to win.

She drew his cock out of her mouth until his head rested against her lips. She placed small kisses up and down his shaft, letting her tongue dart out on occasion to trace a vein, or feel his rigidness. When her tongue glanced seemingly on accident up against his balls, she felt and heard his gasp shudder through his body.

Oh, so the man had some sensitive areas. Her tongue darted out once again, but this time she slowly licked his ball sack, right up the middle and kept going up his cock and to his tip again.

"Isabelle," he growled.

"Yes?" she asked innocently, her fingertips brushing his head and her fist squeezing him at his base gently.

"You're playing a dangerous game Isabelle. You know you have my cock jerking for you, you know I want to spill my seed into your warm waiting mouth," he paused when she sucked his cock into her mouth, then took a deep shuddering breath and continued. "Since there's no use trying to talk you out of this, I've decided that you can go ahead and play your game, because sooner or later I will get free. Then, Sweet Pussy, we shall see ultimately who wins."

Isabelle chose not to answer him just yet. She was busy. His cock throbbed in the back of her throat and her lips were exploring every inch of his cock as she slid him into and out of her mouth. The mere thought of fucking his cock with her lips like she would fuck him with her pussy was making her grind her pussy even harder onto his leg. She could easily cum on his leg, she simply had to open her lips and place her clit on the hardened muscles bulging in his leg. But for now, she wanted to enjoy having him under her control, and if she came he would know how very weak she was when it came to him.

Drawing her mouth away from him, she allowed his head to almost pop free but not quite, catching his head between her teeth softly. It felt so good, incredible really, to feel the strength of his erection in her mouth, so good it sent a shuddering contraction through her pussy. Isabelle knew she would not last much longer. She had to make him break first. That was a must.

No longer satisfied with his leg nestled between her legs, she removed her mouth from his cock and re-positioned herself over him, biting her lip to stop the sigh of contentment that came when her pussy came into contact once again with his cock. 

She circled his head with her lips, watching his face contort in the darkness. His lips were curled back and a muscle throbbed in his jaw as he fought to contain himself. She could certainly understand his reaction as it was the same one she herself was experiencing.

However, understanding his reaction was one thing; showing mercy when he had shown none was another. She was not feeling merciful this evening. In fact, mercy was the last thing on her mind. Her hips seemed to move of their own volition, disregarding her mind's order to slow down. Suddenly she had to see his eyes, she had to watch them smolder like she knew they would. It wasn't enough to have him writhing underneath her, his cock jutting up, anxiously anticipating sliding into her wet pussy, she needed to see.

She ran a hand over his chest, letting her fingers slide through the hair on his chest, before reaching up and removing the blindfold. She watched him blink and adjust to the shadowed light in the room provided by the streetlamps outside. She didn't move a muscle, just simply watched him. He didn't take long to seek her out, his eyes flicking over her face, her breasts and then over the rest of her body. Everything in his gaze suggested that she belonged to him and he was only patiently waiting for the moment when he could claim her.

Isabelle shivered as she felt the ownership implied in his eyes. Normally she would have resisted any man trying to assert his ownership over her, but in this case, she had no choice. It just was. Her nipples hardened under his gaze and her pussy contracted as he marked her skin with the heat of his stare. Almost belatedly she realized the error in removing his blindfold. Somehow she was no longer sure that she was going to win this battle. His knowing smirk said all that and more.

Still, she was not going to give up now. She met his eyes and moved her hips lower, grinding her clit onto his head. His marbled head was slick from their wetness and it didn't take much for her to maneuver him to her entrance. That was when she paused, she wanted nothing more than to grind her hips downward until he was fully encased inside her; she could already feel the clutching of her pussy wanting to wrap around him. But she needed something else, something more than this animalistic mating, something he had taken from her, her last shred of self control.




Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 04



With a silent groan, Isabelle moved down an inch, reveling as Dillon's hard shaft penetrated her hungry pussy. He was so hard and so thick, but she didn't know why she was surprised at the size of him. She had felt this incredible fullness before, but each time it was like she was being stuffed so full of cock she would burst. And yet each time it left her wanting more. She bit her lip to stop the moan that threatened to escape and rotated her hips around his cock head as her pussy leaked wetness over him. 

She could feel damp spots of perspiration on his chest under her fingertips as he fought to control the lust raging through him. She didn't blame him she was feeling decidedly un-cool herself. There was a raging inferno blazing between her thighs and it didn't help that the large hose she needed to put it out felt like it was on fire too.

Bracing herself on his chest she lowered her pussy another inch, gritting her teeth the entire time. She was not used to having control over a man, much less one who she had never met in the light of day. It was disconcerting and liberating at the same time. 

She felt stretched by the bulging mass of flesh straining towards her womb. She contracted around him, and felt his answering throb. It would be so easy to lower herself down and take what she so desperately wanted. But that would defeat her whole purpose. So instead she stayed where she was, her pussy clenched around his hard, unyielding cock as it jerked inside her. She dared him to move with her eyes, fighting the urge to close her eyes and revel in the feel of him.

He calmly returned her stare, only the slight dots of moisture beading on his upper lip gave any indication that he was struggling. Suddenly and without warning, he smiled at her. It wasn't a pleasant smile, nor was it a lover's smile given with tenderness or love. It was a challenge, pure and simple. Issued as a silent declaration, you belong to me, you have the upper hand but ultimately you will lose this battle. Isabelle ignored the shivers of danger that skittered down her spine at the message he conveyed.

Isabelle knew that it was likely she would pay for her actions, but she wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't enjoy the punishment, especially if it involved Dillon and his dark sexy ways. Her pussy clenched at the thought of being at Dillon's mercy again, he was so deliciously wicked. His answering throb sent more shockwaves through her.

Feeling hungrier than she had in some time, she lowered herself until her breasts brushed over Dillon's chest. The thick curling hair tickled her already sensitive nipples and only served to swell the skin even more. She circled her swollen and dripping lips around him while rubbing her breasts against him. She felt like a sinewy cat stretching out for a nap under the sun, she was just as anxious to receive the warmth he offered to her, and her body stretched and reached for the heat of him.

Finally giving in to the violent urges that swam through her veins, she took more of his heat into her, but still wouldn't give either of them what they both so desperately wanted.

Each time she allowed more of his cock to enter her she balanced precariously on a steep ledge, hovering and clasping for a handhold to pull herself up, but knowing no one was there to hold her hand. She knew that as soon as she felt all of him deeply embedded in her, it would be over and she would tumble down the rocky precipice. She also knew that she would try her damndest to take him with her.

Sliding upwards, she released her hold on him until only the very tip of his cock was precariously close to popping out, then slid back down to allow just a little more of him access to her moist, tight heat. She gasped when he thrust upwards suddenly, going deeper into her than she had planned. Her back arched and she clenched her teeth to stop the flood of sensations. She tried to move back up but his legs and hips were strong and he followed her movements, not allowing her to escape from the ground he had gained.

She placed her palms back on his chest with the hope of lifting herself up, at least until she could regain some control, but his quick bucking movements stopped her mid-movement. The feel of Dillon's thick cock jerking inside her was nothing compared to the thickening, hard thrusts he enforced on her now. Her body instinctively tightened around him, enjoying the depth of his strokes, and the thickly veined instrument he wielded like a weapon against her.

No longer caring if she won this round, Isabelle could only focus on the pulsating throbbing going on inside of her, that and the man throbbing deeply inside of her. The hands she had planned to use to lift herself up were now tangled in the hair on Dillon's chest and she was pulling on him. A moan escaped her lips as she danced over half of his cock.

"Now, Isabelle. Now." he ordered, his voice hoarse with need.

Isabelle didn't answer, she didn't trust herself to. Her own voice would echo the need in his and she had already crossed enemy lines. She would hold on to this last vestige of control that she had; it was all she had as her emotions swirled and tossed inside of her dangerously.

"Don't think that by not answering me you can escape Isabelle. I know you think you have me exactly where you want me but I always return anything dealt to me ten-fold. I think you would be wise to remember that."

His softly veiled threat didn't quite have the impact he was hoping for as the images of Dillon returning to enact his revenge on her only heightened her arousal and determination to see this through.

Using what little strength she had left, she fisted her hands against his chest and pushed herself up. A shudder went through him as her pussy walls clenched at him not to go even while she was taking away the warm cocoon. Bracing herself on his chest she encircled his head once again and this time let her body slide down until she met the base of his cock against her pubic bone.

He growled in the dark room and pushed up to meet her. This time she didn't resist as the full weight and length of him invaded her pussy walls. She tightened and clutched at the thick invader, her body adjusting to the massive rod seeking refuge inside her until finally settling around him in a humid cloud of warmth.

Unsure of her capability to move, she stayed silent and motionless atop him. He throbbed violently, the tightening of his lips the only indication that he was suffering as she was. She answered him with soul deep throbs of her own, her hands clenching at his chest.

The need to feel his mouth claiming hers was sudden and overwhelming and she no longer gave any thoughts to her actions; only gave in to the need and claimed his lips. She was shocked to feel the answering need in his kiss as his powerful mouth claimed hers in a hungry feast. Their tongues dueled as their bodies fused.

Isabelle didn't have thoughts of revenge anymore, just a need so deep, so ingrained in every pore of her being that her body acted on its own volition. Without her mind even acknowledging the action her hips began to rotate. Dillon swallowed the gasp from her lips as his cock sought out more of her hidden secrets. His hips swayed under her as his cock swirled lazily inside her weeping pussy.

She wasn't sure anymore who was getting revenge on who. She felt helpless against the raging tide of lust that crested and roared inside of her. Finally acknowledging that swimming against this particular wave was useless as she had already drowned in the man underneath her, Isabelle surrendered to the emotions and sensations that threatened to take over her very existence and drove her hips viciously downwards, taking Dillon into her even deeper.

This time he was the one who let out a strangled moan. She accepted the moan as her due and lifted her hips again, shuddering when she felt his cock dragging against her walls. Dropping down again, she reveled in each thrust of his hips that met her own and in the full thick feeling in her pussy. Her legs shook with need but she ignored them. The outside world had ceased to exist except for the pulsating throbbing desire that she was feeling inside.

Dragging her mouth away from Dillon's for just a moment took more willpower than she had imagined for as soon as her mouth left his she immediately wished for its warmth back. She took care to make sure she was breathing and continued to take her fill of Dillon; rising over him a little faster now and dropping down with more force. She liked it when his cock jabbed into her hard and thick like she remembered.

"I want you to cum for me Isabelle. I need to feel your pussy contracting and spilling for me. Cum for me Sweet Pussy. You are mine, your pussy is mine and you will give me what I want." The command was issued in a strangled voice but still one that left no room for argument.

Isabelle wasn't sure she wanted to obey his order. When his hips thrust upwards violently and his cock invaded every inch of her pussy, she wasn't sure she was going to have a choice. She rode his cock in broken desperation, she had so wanted to break his will, to make him beg as she had, but her need to give him what he desired superseded her earlier motivations.

His head swelled and throbbed taking what was left of her willpower and smashing it to pieces. Using his chest as her personal handhold, she gripped his body and used him to help her move at the pace she wanted, which was hard and fast. She had been without him for too long to make slow love, she wanted his passion to match her own and judging by the narrowing of his eyes and the tightening of his mouth she was succeeding. He simultaneously bucked his hips and used his strength to pound back.

Their union was violent, brutal and exactly what she wanted, needed, and remembered about him. There had never been time for slow lovemaking, theirs was a lust that burned brightly against the night sky and until the flame had been banked it would continue to be blaze. So far nothing had succeeded in dousing the heat he ignited in her.

The rolling, sweet aching in her womb was the only warning she had before she came, a scream erupting from her lips as her body convulsed over him. She heard Dillon's encouraging murmurs but couldn't make out what he was saying over the ringing in her ears. The tightening continued as he pushed into her, forcing another violent shudder of ecstasy. She gripped his body between her legs and held on as wave after wave consumed her.

Dillon's body tensed beneath her and she braced herself for another wave of bliss as he filled her pussy with his seed, never breaking the pace he had set even while he yelled out her name. Her pussy tightened once more as the hot fluid filled her, setting off shockwaves inside and she arched to greedily accept him. The last thing she remembered was whimpering his name and collapsing against his chest as she gave in to the most mind blowing orgasm she had ever experienced.

Dillon had no intention of stopping now that he had stolen from her what she had tried so naively to steal from him. He continued to move, his cock still hard and rigid inside. Isabelle wasn't sure she could take any more, not after what had just happened.

She rested on Dillon's body, her arms and legs feeling so jelly like she wasn't confident that she could even move. But the persistent thrusting cock sliding in and out of her pussy soon erased her trepidation and she found herself moving over him again. The man was relentless and he demanded that anyone who dared enter his domain gave just as much as he.

She didn't mind, not really. If his goal was to bring her hours and hours of ecstasy, who was she to argue? Quickly gaining back some of her earlier energy, Isabelle resumed stroking his cock, only this time she went slower, preferring to draw out the strokes as his head scraped her walls delightfully when she did.

Her mind and body were so lost to the feelings Dillon aroused in her that she didn't notice that he had slipped one hand out of the ropes. The scream of surprise was quickly cut off when his hand encircled her neck. His grip wasn't tight enough to stop her, but the power in his hand was undeniable. Her eyes flashed open and focused on the grim determination in his face.

He met her stare unflinchingly; this time it was he who issued the dare. She swallowed and raised her head defiantly. He may have a hold over her that no man had ever had, but she still had some pride left and while she knew that ultimately she would do anything this man asked of her, she wanted deep down to know he was just as similarly affected. The dark gleam of desire and ownership shining in his gaze answered any question she had about the effect she was having on him.

His hand moved down her throat and to her breasts, cupping first one then the other. Once satisfied with feeling the weight of them he moved to her nipples, pinching and pulling on the oversensitive nubs. She made no attempt to stop him or to tie him back up. She also knew that he could easily escape now; but still she remained as she was, mesmerized by the feel of his hand shaping her breasts even as it brought with it a sharp tug deep inside of her.

His hand moved to her neck again and this time there was no gentleness in his grip as he used his hold on her to bring her hips down with a force that she hadn't felt in him before. She had no choice but to move as his hand tightened around her throat in a punishing fashion; forcing her to slam against his cock over and over again.

Isabelle was trapped by the revenge she had sought and she knew she was losing. Her pussy convulsed and contracted over Dillon as he rammed into her ruthlessly. His goal wasn't to give her pleasure, indeed, she doubted that he was even aware of her as his grip tightened and his body rode into her. It no longer mattered whether he intended to give her pleasure for he was succeeding anyway.

Her back arched as her breasts pushed forward. Her hips moved like pistons, settling into the savage rhythm he had set. The gurgle of achingly hot pleasure shot through her loins and she felt her release being yanked from her just as savagely. The moan that tore from her throat vibrated against Dillon's hand and reverberated throughout the silent room. 

When Dillon answered her moan with deep thrusts that denoted his own release, she felt dangerously close to losing her sanity. And when his release was spilled from him in hot liquid spurts she lost it completely, sobbing into his chest and shuddering around him as he filled her with his seed.

She didn't remember what happened next; she only knew she had closed her eyes for just a moment, seeking respite from the volatile emotions swirling through her. Dillon didn't budge, but he did remove his hand from her neck and moved it to her back, rubbing her gently.

The soft motion of his hand stroking the sensitive skin on her back sent her into a dreamy daze and it wasn't long before she felt her eyes getting heavier. Isabelle drifted off with Dillon's cock embedded inside her and his hand rubbing her back in soothing little circles.

"Isabelle, my SweetPussy. How can I let you go back to that husband of yours when you belong to me?"

She didn't hear Dillon's whispered confession as she slept. Nor did she hear her name on his lips as he too slid off into a dreamland.



Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 05



Authors note: This is a bit of a departure for Isabelle and Dillon. I hope you enjoy it.

Isabelle opened her eyes slowly, feeling sluggish and dazed. With some alarm she looked around at the completely unfamiliar surroundings she found herself in. Her arms were heavy and tingled at her fingertips amidst the tangled sheets. As she struggled to clear the sleep from her eyes, she took note of her location.

She was sprawled in a king-sized bed in a room she had never seen before. There was the usual bedroom furniture dotting the rest of the room, dark cherry nightstands, two matching mirrored dressers, a large comfortable sitting area, and a towering armoire that she guessed housed a TV and other entertainment devices. Artwork tastefully arranged on the cream-colored walls as well as heavy drapes that covered tall windows, and any glimpse she might have had of the outside world.

It took a moment for understanding to dawn on her and when it did; it came with a tingling sense of dread. She had just awakened in a room she didn't remember coming to of her own accord. She closed her eyes and opened them again hoping this was some weird dream she was having. When she opened them the room stayed the same forcing her to accept that this was no dream.

Something was terribly wrong; the knot forming in her stomach confirmed it. Using what little strength she could muster, she tried to pull herself up, realizing to her horror that it wasn't possible. The reason her arms felt so heavy was because they were tightly bound by rope. With her eyes, she traced the origin of the ropes only to see that they were tied to two very thick imposing posts situated at the head of the bed. Her horror increased when she realized she was completely naked except the flimsy excuse of a sheet that barely covered her breasts.

Fighting a growing sense of panic she tested the strength of the bonds. They were tied much too tightly for her to get out of. Desperately she tried to wiggle her hands out of the intricate knots around her wrists only to lose some of the valuable sheet that covered her body. It inched its way down to her ribs. Her plan of escape wasn't working and she struggled to breathe through the panic consuming her. Where in the hell was she? Why was she tied up?

The last memory she had was of Dillon. Guiltily, she remembered the daring plan she had executed without thought of the consequences. Well that's not entirely true, she had thought of the consequences, she had just chosen to ignore them. Breaking and entering into his mother's house to seek revenge probably hadn't been one of her smartest ideas.

Wild-eyed and cruising towards a massive panic attack as the bleakness of her situation hit her, she felt the warm salty wetness of tears falling on her cheeks. Surely someone had to know she was missing, at the very least, her husband Mark would be looking for her. 

But if this was Dillon's doing, Mark wouldn't even have a clue where to look for her. It was her fault, she was beyond stupid. Putting aside the fact that the man had taken her against her will, he was a stranger, a total and complete stranger that she had no link to whatsoever. The queen of safety had just fallen off her throne.

She didn't even know if she was technically missing, she had no clue what day it was or what she had been doing last. Whatever she had consumed must have really knocked her for a loop if she couldn't remember what day it was.

Her nipples puckered as the cool air hit them; wiggling uselessly, she tried in vain to snuggle back under the sheet. It was no use. The sheet wouldn't budge without the use of her hands. She tried to ignore the goose bumps dotting her arms, but they traveled gleefully over her skin leaving behind an uncomfortable prickly sensation in their wake. Wishing she knew what the hell was going on, Isabelle concentrated on figuring a way out of this situation.

It was obvious she would not be able to get her hands free anytime soon. It seemed like the harder she pulled the tighter the ropes became, frustrating her to no end. She looked down to see that two more posts were at the foot of the bed, also with ropes attached to them. Thankfully those were not attached to her legs otherwise she would be totally freaking out. At least with part of her body free she stood a chance of escaping.

Her arms were starting to ache with her efforts. Giving up for the moment, she turned onto her side, using what little slack was available to change her position. Staring dejectedly at the prison which she now found herself, she pondered her options, slim as they were. She could continue to struggle with the ropes binding her, or wait out the person who held her.

Given that the ropes hadn't budged the entire time, the answer was clear. She had to wait and conserve her strength. Closing her eyes, she huddled under what was left of the sheet covering her and tried to stay warm. She attempted to take a fitful nap, having a hard time getting comfortable with her arms shackled above her.

An insistent voice that wasn't her own woke her from near sleep and immediately all thoughts of a nap disappeared.

Sweet dreams Isabelle.

Isabelle struggled to come to a semi-upright position, looking around the murky room for the source of the voice. She was positive she had heard something. Only it was so soft and far away she couldn't be sure. There was no one else in the room that she could see and the room had the stillness that could only come with vacancy. She held her breath and listened for the sound of another person breathing but there was only silence, heavy, thick silence that seemed to grow with the shadows.

"Hello?" she called out. Her voice was tinny against the absolute silence.

I'm here.

"Where?" she cried out in frustration.

Isabelle shook her head to clear it, sure that something was wrong. She could almost swear that she had heard the answer to her first question in her head because she couldn't be absolutely sure that the voice had spoken out loud. She cocked an ear to listen for an answer and gasped when it came.

Right here.

Isabelle felt a rush of heat so intense she had to close her eyes and bite her lip to stop from moaning. The warmth traveled from her head down to her toes, leaving every hair standing on end.

The searing heat didn't stop there. It continued to travel through her entire body until it reached her heart, where strangely enough, it felt as if it was being held by two strong arms, as if she had just been hugged on the inside. It was so strange, the loveliest feelings were coursing through her bloodstream but she still had no idea what was happening.

Feel what you do to me.

There it was again, that voice that only she could hear. Maybe she was losing her mind. She certainly felt like it. Hearing voices certainly qualified one as at least somewhat mentally ill. Right now she wouldn't be surprised if they showed up to cart her away in a straitjacket.

"What do I do to you?" She called out in response, reasoning that if she was losing her mind, she should at least try to find out why before it was too late.

You drive me crazy with desire and make me feel things I shouldn't feel. Like this, and this.

Isabelle felt every syllable with a longing so intense she almost cried out. Her nipples puckered and turned extremely sensitive. Her insides turned to mush and her body contracted involuntarily. This definitely wasn't happening. She was having a hallucination brought on by the drugs given to her, a very sexually charged hallucination.

"This isn't real. I'm going to sleep now and I'd appreciate it if you'd stop bothering me. NOW," she emphasized. Isabelle felt more than a little stupid talking to some phantom voice only she could hear in her head, but it was imperative that she put a stop to this nonsense. She was simply having a bad trip or whatever it is that happens when you consume too many drugs.

Closing her eyes she did her best to huddle under the sheet. After an eternity of trying to talk herself out of her delusions, she finally drifted off.

Sleep good Isabelle, you're going to need it, the voice whispered deep in her mind.

*****

Isabelle opened her eyes several hours later to a completely darkened room. She shook her head in amusement at her one and only experience with hallucinogens. Hearing voices, really. She must have had a hefty dose of drugs if she was hearing voices. She almost laughed out loud until she felt the heavy weight of another presence in the room. Hearing voices in her head was the least of her problems. She had a real live problem waiting for her here.

Quickly she turned her head to locate the source. Scanning the room for another person proved fruitless for she could see no one. It had grown dark and there were no lights on in her dim prison but she didn't doubt for one second that someone was there. She knew that given time her eyes would adjust to the darkness, but the presence waiting for her didn't allow her the luxury of time.

"Who's there?" she called out, her voice husky from lack of use and slightly shrill, belying her underlying panic.

The quiet in the room only increased and she held her breath trying to hear something, anything that would give her a clue as to who was in the room with her. A clock chimed somewhere in the house, signaling the time and breaking the yawning silence. It was ten o'clock in the evening, of what day she wasn't sure. She only knew that it was late and she had no idea where she was or who was keeping her here. Well, no, she had a pretty good idea but it wasn't like Dillon to keep her waiting for this long.

She called out again but received no answer. Feeling more than a little desperate she tried once more to loosen her bonds, but whoever had tied her up had obviously not studied knot tying on the internet like she had.

She stilled on the bed deciding to change her strategy. She would not give in to the fear that was clawing up her throat. She would think logically and rationally.

Obviously this was no random kidnapping. Given the dangerous game she had been playing with Dillon it seemed only logical that he had the best motive to want to get back at her. It was just like him to do something so completely outrageous; something that he must have known instinctively would cause her fear.

But why wouldn't he answer her? Surely by now he must have sensed his victory and was just waiting for the right moment to lord it over her. A tingle of apprehension slithered down her spine at the distant notion that it could be someone else. No, he was just making her sweat it out. Please let that be it, she prayed. She decided to test out her theory by calling out his name.

"Dillon? Is that you? Please answer me." Her voice came out sounding way more desperate than she would have liked.

She heard what sounded like a sharp intake of breath coming from the sitting area to her left. She turned her head towards the sound, hoping that she could catch a glimpse of who was there. The thick curtains ensured that no outside light would get in to help her. It was still too dark to see the figure situated in the shadows, but she knew someone was there.

"Please, whoever you are, I have to use the bathroom. Please." Isabelle had said it as a ruse but she really did need to use the facilities. She had no idea how long she had been kept here, but her bladder was telling her it had been an eternity.

"Close your eyes." A robot-like voice erupted from the corner she had been watching. It was obviously not a human voice. Whoever was holding her was intent on not letting his identity be known even to the point of disguising his voice. The knowledge sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine.

She closed her eyes most of the way, hoping he, she was pretty sure it was a male, wouldn't notice the slight opening in the darkness. She heard him come towards the bed and tilted her head upwards slightly to try and see him. 

What she saw gave her more reasons to be afraid, not less. His face was covered in a mask, his eyes barely visible and only because they glinted dangerously in the dark. Everything else was a blur of black. When his hands reached for her bonds, she saw that they were covered in black gloves as well. She swallowed convulsively to keep the bile from coming up her throat and tried not to think about what those gloves meant.

Before she could catch her breath, a rough cloth came over her eyes and was tied tightly behind her head. He wasn't gentle as he lifted her head to accomplish his task. Because she could no longer try and glean clues about her attacker through sight, her other senses soon took over.

A faint whiff of cologne assailed her nostrils along with the remnants of a familiar soap. At least he was clean; the inane thought came and went. She could feel the roped muscles of his arms brush her chest as they worked the knots around her wrist. But the rest of him was a mystery as he held himself stiffly over her.

A clinking noise snapped her out of her silent reverie. Cold steel clamped over her wrist along with a long chain that clanked against the bedpost. What the hell was going on? 

Weakly, she flexed her hand, wincing as the feeling came back in a rush. He moved to her other wrist and quickly undid the knot. He didn't lock a cuff over that wrist, leaving her to wonder what he had planned.

"You can use the bathroom now. It's through the door on the left." The distinctly non-human voice grated out. Before she could get out a reply, she heard the door open, a light switch flick on and the soft snick of the door closing as her kidnapper slipped out.

Isabelle's legs shook as she moved to get off of the bed. She gripped the edges of the bed before attempting to walk, trying to gauge her strength. Using her free hand-the chain around her wrist felt too heavy to lift-she pushed the blindfold up, blinking in the now blinding light. She felt so weak it made her wonder how long she had been tied up in bed. Finally, she felt strong enough to try to stand, keeping her free hand on the bed in case she wasn't.

Thankfully her legs held and she made her way to the door on the left. She was in too much of a hurry to make use of the facilities that she didn't pay attention to the chain on her wrist; she was too grateful at this point to care.

In the bathroom, toilet paper and a measly bar of soap, along with a sadly worn hand towel were the only meager contents available. After making use of the facilities and washing her face and hands, she studied her haggard reflection in the mirror, wincing at the tangled mess of honey brown hair that barely graced her shoulders. She dragged her fingers through it in an attempt to tame it but the only thing that was going to help was a shower and a blow dryer.

Her eyes were still one of her best features but they bore the faint imprint of sleep and vague shadows underneath that only served to highlight the lines forming at the corners. She studiously ignored looking at her naked figure, even though she knew it was still okay by most men's standards. She snorted. Standards, right. Give a man a few beers and suddenly even the ugliest woman could get lucky.

Her breasts, while large and full, sagged where they should have stood proudly at attention and her stomach would always have that little pooch that said she'd had a kid or two. She refused to address her hips and ass and managed to leave the room before she had a nervous breakdown.

Back in the bedroom, she took note of the chain and what it was attached to. Her kidnapper had kindly left her enough room to move to the bathroom but not enough to make it to the windows or the bedroom door. Like the ropes, the chain was attached to the heavy bedpost.

The bed had to weigh at least five hundred pounds, at the minimum. She knew that in her sorry state, she wouldn't have been able to get the chain loose even if the bed had only weighed twenty pounds. Shit, just lifting the chain around her wrist seemed like too much in her deteriorated condition. He must have drugged her. That had to be why she was so tired and sluggish.

Still, she looked around to see if anything could be used as a weapon against him. She paid no attention to her nakedness, there was nothing she could do about it now and worrying about it would only slow her escape.

The dresser tops were devoid of any personal items just as the bathroom had been. Quickly, she opened the dresser drawers hoping to find something to aid in her escape, but she was disappointed at the selection. Besides a few socks and t-shirts, there was nothing.

She grabbed a t-shirt and was about to put it on when she realized the chain was going to be a hindrance. She tested the strength of the fabric and was pleased when it ripped down the side seam. She finished ripping it up to the arm using her teeth to tear the arm portion off then slipped her other arm into the other hole. As far as coverings went, it was pretty lame as it left her whole right side exposed, but it was better than nothing at this point.

She moved to the armoire and opened the cupboard. The TV that normally sat there had been moved, the dust outlining its usual position hadn't even been cleaned up. The rest of the electronics that she assumed had occupied the lower shelves were also missing.

Frantically she opened the bottom drawers, but they too had been cleaned out. She was running out of time and had found nothing for her efforts.

The sitting area proved to be a fruitless waste of time as well, the chairs were too big and sturdy for her to lift and there was nothing that she could use to throw at the windows.

Turning she caught sight of another door next to the bathroom. Breathing hard and moving even faster now she ran towards it. She cried in disappointment when it opened up into a walk-in closet that had been stripped of everything except a box in the corner. Without thinking she headed towards the box, only to realize that her chain allowed her to enter only halfway. She let out a short grunt as the chain stopped her progress.

Frustrated, pissed as hell and more scared than she wanted to admit, she left the closet, slamming the door on her way out, no longer caring if he heard. It was apparent that Dillon had planned this well in advance. He was taking no chances that she could escape.

Her hands on her hips, Isabelle surveyed the room one more time. If she could regain some of her strength it might be possible for her to drag the bed towards the window, but until that happened she would have to rely on her wits, such as they were, at this point.

Without warning the light flicked off, leaving her standing in the dark again. Disoriented and fearful, she groped her way towards the bed. She clambered back onto it and pulled the sheet over her, hoping for even its slim protection.

"Put the blindfold back on." The disembodied voice echoed in the room.

Isabelle didn't waste any time obeying the order. Waiting to find out what was going to happen was sometimes worse than the actual event and she was tired of waiting to find out her fate. After fumbling in the dark for the blindfold, she slipped it back over her eyes leaving a small portion uncovered.

The light clicked back on as he entered the room. The silence in the house allowed her to hear his soft footsteps as he grew near. She held her breath and was certain that he was standing no less than three feet from her, even though in the dark it was hard to gauge the distance. She could hear him breathing and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up in instant attention.

She tried to angle her head to the side to catch a peek of him but his hand shot out and gripped her chin, holding her in place and stopping her in her tracks. The leather bound grip was cruel, punishing almost, and she cried out in shock. He immediately loosened his hold but did not release her.




Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 05



Isabelle fought to remain calm. It wasn't easy; her lungs were working overtime to provide her brain with enough oxygen to survive. She was frightened by the strength in the hand holding her chin but unable to fight an invisible enemy.

"Lay down Isabelle." The electronic voice echoed eerily in the room and was so close it sent shivers up and down her back.

He released her and she wasted no time obeying, scooting down until she was lying prone on the thin sheets. Her chained arm was jerked above her head and secured to the post by another chain and her other hand quickly followed. She held her fear in check until she felt the chafing of the rope as he secured her ankles.

She struggled in vain against the rough fibers of the rope as they encircled her ankles. He wasted no time securing her though, and she soon found herself completely at his mercy. It wasn't a comforting thought. A rough hand removed the blindfold but there was little change in her view, as the room was illuminated only by a dim bulb in the closet.

Still pondering her predicament, she was unprepared for the bare hand that gripped her wrist above the rope.

Oh Lord, he was savage in his touch. He didn't grab, he didn't grope, or grapple helplessly, he simply owned. There were no limits he obeyed to own her body, mind, soul, and anything else he found along the way. All were fair game in his mind. She wasn't sure why she knew that but she knew it with certainty.

She was consumed with an overall feeling of warmth that spread soothingly throughout her limbs. She began to daydream, lingering in the sizzling heat flooding through her middle, and immediately images of Dillon's body bucking under her flashed like a movie playing on a screen in front of her eyes. She smiled, the last time they had been together had been incredible.

The grip around her wrist tightened and her eyes widened in alarm, had he read her thoughts? No, she was losing it for sure. She could've sworn his squeeze was in direct response to her thoughts, but that would be insane. No, he wasn't reading her mind. It was simply her overactive imagination going into overdrive. That and the extra bonus of being drugged with God knows what.

But the tingling warmth and languorous feeling that were invading her every pore said otherwise, even her hair felt like it was standing on end. She wanted to reach a hand up to check but felt ridiculous for even giving credence to her ramblings. Besides, the chains securing her hands wouldn't budge.

She relaxed further into the soft bed; why hadn't she noticed it was so soft before? The drugs must be making her loopy. Why else would she feel this way? This slow, searing, dreamy ... oh my God, it was lust she was feeling. Her insides clenched as if acknowledging the truth.

The hand squeezed once again. Her lust laden eyes flew open to look at her captor in the shadowy light. It was impossible to see anything, any light she might have had was blocked by his position and the handy mask he was wearing.

Suddenly flashes of her and Dillon tangled together on her bed, him taking her in the hall of her home, and his cock thrusting deeply into her played through her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the images. But closing her eyes didn't block out the mental images, they only increased the overwhelming urge she had to be with Dillon right now.

Damn Dillon, she knew it was him. Somehow, someway, he was showing her what he wanted to do to her in her head. Visions of naked limbs, a thick bulging head thrusting up hard into her pussy, her tied in several obscene positions, were just a few of the images she registered. She blushed at the last one. She felt violated, that he should show her those vile acts, as if... she couldn't go on. Her mouth had gone dry at that last image. No matter that it made her blush, she couldn't imagine not being that exposed to Dillon now.

Tentatively she tried communicating back to him. While her attempt was tentative, her tone was clear.

It wasn't enough to have my body.

She concentrated on sending the thought back at him. Concentrated might have been a bit of an exaggeration considering the fact that she had never tried to talk to someone (in her mind) and might, in fact, be suffering from severe delusions.

It's never enough.

The thought settled into her mind before she could finish questioning her sanity. Immediately she began to clear her mind of all thoughts, it was one thing to give your body to a man, but quite another if he also wanted to possess your mind. She concentrated fiercely on erecting a barrier between them but her work was for naught. For while she was concentrating so hard, he, too, had been hard at work.

Give it up Isabelle. I fought it for as long as I could, but its getting stronger. We are linked. You're mine.

Strong, hair-roughened arms brushed by her as yet another of his thoughts invaded her mind. She highly resented having him in her head and thought several nasty thoughts about him just to spite him. He laughed instead and any shadow of a doubt she had before about the identity of her kidnapper was gone in an instant.

She'd recognize the timbre of his voice, the subtle shift in tone when he was aroused, and his arrogance any day. It was as familiar to her as her own voice.

"You're a warlock aren't you?" She deliberately asked the question out loud, she did not want to encourage his shameless mind reading.

Shameless? I prefer merely expedient. Besides as far as I know, this thing goes both ways.

Oh?

He lays a bombshell on her that they can read each others' mind and all she can say, err, think is oh.

It's a lot to take in, trust me I know. But I think you'll find it has its advantages as well.

"Like what?" she snorted in disbelief.

Well, for one thing, we could talk about people we don't like in front of them without them ever knowing.

"And? So far your one advantage is that we can talk about people. What if I want to talk about you?" She pressed.

I would know of course. There can be no secrets between us now.

"And If don't want that? What then? Have I no recourse?" She kept voicing her questions out loud in order to try and maintain some semblance of distance between them. The sinking feeling in her stomach told her she was fighting a losing battle but she wouldn't give up just yet. There had to be some way to keep him from occupying her mind whenever he felt like it.

No, I'm afraid not. At least I have yet to find a way to stop this growing connection. It wasn't this strong yesterday, in fact...

She cut him off before he could finish. PLEASE TALK TO ME LIKE A NORMAL PERSON! She screamed at him the only way she knew how to with her mind, in big bold letters. She hoped he got the message.

He winced and inhaled sharply. He sat close to her on the bed before continuing.

"There's no need to shout." His voice sounded alien to her after listening to the robotic voice recorder he must have been playing earlier.

"It seems to be the only way I can get through to you. This may seem normal to you but it isn't. I'm not at all sure I want you reading my thoughts all the time, or being able to arouse me with images of us together anytime you want. I won't have it Dillon."

Her voice was clear and decisive as she laid out her wishes, however, being tied to Dillon's bed with chain and rope took something away from her harsh demands. She realized that she was in no position to make demands, but for crying out loud, some things were just private and her thoughts should be one of them.

"I aroused you with those images?" he asked.

Isabelle sighed lustily. Hadn't he been listening at all to what she said?

I heard you Miss High and Mighty. Keep your pants on. Oh wait, too late for that, isn't it?

Isabelle clenched her teeth together and conjured up images of Dillon being tortured in several different but painful ways. A couple that involved him losing some valuable parts.

He chuckled at her. Nothing in this whole world had ever infuriated her as much as that smug little chuckle that escaped from his lips. There was so much undisguised glee in that haughty sound that she found herself imagining even worse things for him to see.

"Where are we Dillon? Why did you kidnap me and keep me tied up? Why didn't you just tell me it was you, why the elaborate voice machine?" she asked, wanting desperately to change the subject and distract him from lingering in her brain.

"It won't work you know. I spent two years trying to stop feeling your every thought and emotion, trying to sleep through the night when your dreams would keep me up for hours. I wondered if you felt it too or if was just me. I tied you up and disguised myself because I wanted to test this link between us; I needed to see if you could feel it before you knew it was me. Now, you won't distract me from my goal any longer."

"What exactly is your goal?" She queried with a knot in her stomach, for she already knew his answer.

To make you mine always.

The thought was placed gently into her mind, but his intent was clear. He would have her and nothing was going to get in his way. It didn't matter that she was already married with a family; it didn't matter if she wanted it or not, she would belong to him, even if he had to keep her captive.

The last thought sent a shudder through her. While she had certainly fantasized about being held captive by a stunningly handsome man; what woman hadn't? The reality would be far different. She had no desire to give up her freedom even if the thought of not being with Dillon made her physically ill.

What about her children and her husband? They would be hurt beyond belief, at first they would look for her, hoping for a miracle, but eventually they would realize she wasn't coming back. And then what? She would miss out on everything important in her children's lives and that brought an achingly sharp pain deep inside her heart. Dillon had to understand that there had to be a better way to achieve his goal. She simply couldn't imagine going on without her children.

"Please don't." she whispered through a suddenly thick throat. Tears threatened to escape from her tightly shut eyes and all she could think was please, no, don't hurt my children.

"I would never do anything to hurt you or your family Isabelle." He sneered, suddenly too close to her for her comfort.

She drew in a shocked breath at the vehemence in his tone but didn't reply.

When you are ready to acknowledge this connection between us, you will come to me. Your conscience will be clear when you do, but not because I say so. You will leave your husband because you are unhappy with him and can never be happy with him now that you've experienced the magic between us. There will simply be no other choice for you now that you know. That is the woman I know, the one I feel in my heart and mind. The one I reach for at night.

She felt the familiar warmth seeping through her again at his tender thoughts and while she hated his arrogance she also knew he was right. She wouldn't be able to forget and ultimately would only hurt her husband more by staying. The thought made her sad for all that she would be giving up, but she, too, knew that it was inevitable that she would be with Dillon.

It didn't mean that she was ready to acknowledge it though and she didn't appreciate being forced into making a decision.

Quit being so stubborn woman. You are mine; fighting it is only wasting valuable time, time that I could use to kiss the hollow in your neck, or to nibble on your ear or to taste those swollen lips of yours.

Isabelle felt his thoughts as clearly as a caress, and her skin tingled at her neck and ears, and her lips pursed involuntarily in preparation.

Even your body knows I'm right. I guess I still have to convince your mind.

She refused to answer; instead she fought the wave of thoughts coming from him and tried desperately to think of something else. Gardening, yes that was a nice safe thought. Why, it was almost time to plant her vegetable garden and if she rented a nice roto-tiller this year instead of doing it herself, then she'd have a head start.

She began a mental list of the plants she wanted to put in when another image butted into her nice fantasy garden. The brief flash of her naked and covered in dirt and Dillon immediately stopped her from dreaming about her garden. Silently she seethed, was nothing sacred to this man?

Nope.

The response was almost cheerful and Isabelle sighed in disgust. Then she had a thought that put the smile back on her face. Dillon had said he thought this thing worked both ways. She instantly began to conjure images of Dillon in the throes of passion, while her mouth worked his cock. She smiled when she heard him suddenly begin to struggle to breathe. Then she stopped the images as quickly as they came, and smiled once more when he gasped in outrage.

You little minx. You did that on purpose, didn't you?

Why don't you just look and see if you think you know so much about me?, she thought back, smug now that she knew she could get to him as well.

We'll see about that Isabelle, oh yes, we shall see.

He rattled the chains surrounding her wrists and laughed at her sour expression. She forgot her reply as yet another picture entered her mind. This one was different; it was combined with his words, words that she could see and hear in his voice, almost as if he was whispering them in her ear.

Isabelle, my love, how I've dreamed of touching you again. I dream of seeing those pouty lips frowning at me or parted in ecstasy after I've brought you to orgasm. I dream about your legs wrapped around me as I drive my cock into your pussy. I dream about the taste of you on my lips after I've licked every inch of your pussy.

She sucked air sharply into her lungs at the images he provoked in her mind. She felt the answering clench of her pussy and knew he felt it too. Her nipples puckered as liquid heat coursed through her. He locked eyes with her as he asked his next question.

You like that my Belle? Do you like seeing what I want to do to you?

Yes.

Would you like to see more?

Yes.

I love seeing you tied up for me. You look so tempting spread out on my bed. Your pussy lips aren't quite open and there's a little moisture on your pubic hair. I can do anything I want to do to you because your legs are tied up so neatly there's no way you can fight me. Isn't that a nice picture? No? Well, I think so. I like watching your chest rise and fall as you fight to get air into your lungs. It makes your tits stand up and your nipples pucker into these tight little pebbles. Pebbles I want to lick, bite, and suck on.

Her hips arched up as his thoughts flooded her mind. The man was ruthless. She couldn't stop her reaction to his thoughts and he knew it. He wasn't above using it either.

No, I'm not above using it to get what I want Isabelle, and what I want is you. You, perched just above my cock with my hand entangled in your hair as I get ready to pull you onto me, you down on your knees servicing my cock, you bent over every piece of furniture I own just so I can remember taking you in every room of my house. Every time I look at the chair in the corner I will see your ass perched in the air and my cock disappearing inside you. Every time I glance at my couch in the living room I will see you splayed over it, your body completely exposed to me. Does that scare you? Knowing that no matter how much you protest I will have you every single way I have been dreaming about and more?

There was no way she could look away. The slideshow playing in her mind had her reeling; every image being burned into her subconscious was like the branding of a cow. A permanent, enduring mark she could never erase. She tried to mentally shake herself out of her stupor but he kept up his onslaught.

Want to know how much more Belle? I will own your pussy before this night is over, I will spend the night making you mine. Before, when I came to your house to have my way with you, I only wanted you for the simple reason that I lusted for you, but that is no longer the only reality. I find that simply having your body is not enough anymore. I need to possess all of you and I mean to do that tonight. Before this night is over you will yield to me. You will give yourself to me willingly and lovingly.

What was he saying? That he wanted her love? This was nuts, this wasn't supposed to happen. She was married, she thought stupidly. Like that mattered anymore. He was all that mattered and giving herself to him wouldn't be any kind of hardship. She was his already; it was only a matter of making it official.

Tonight it is official, we belong to each other. You are my mate in every way that matters.

His words resonated in her mind. She was reeling from everything he had communicated and still a little disbelieving that this was really happening.

Give herself willingly and lovingly? The words brought a poignant ache from deep within her soul. Once, she had promised herself to another, but that promise had been given before she knew what it had meant to truly belong to someone else. Now he was demanding that she promise herself to him. He had figured out a way to embed himself into her very existence and would not let go. And he wanted her to give her promise willingly and without reservation, without any hindrances or walls erected between.

She was a little startled at his insistence on that point. He was reading her mind for crying out loud! How could she maintain any walls with him lurking in her subconscious all the time? She couldn't.

Then an image of a father being trapped into marriage by a pregnant girlfriend, and who had professed love then had left filled her head and she suddenly understood. He was showing her his past and why he was asking for her willingness. He wanted her to give of herself willingly, otherwise it wouldn't mean anything.

Being forced to share a room because you happened to occupy the same space was not at all the same as inviting someone into your home and making them feel welcome. She understood that he wanted her but only if she gave of herself willingly, which was ironic, considering their beginning and her current state.

Yes I know. He mentally snapped at her.

She smiled back at him.

Think you could untie me now so I can give myself to you willingly? She queried sweetly, still unsure of her new "power".

I like your sass Belle, but, no, I'm not going to untie you just yet.

Why not?

Because I have some plans for you.

What kind of plans?

You'll see.

And she did. Visions of faces tilted in ecstasy and hearts merging into one blurred with the fevered thrashing of their limbs. Her face warmed at the images. As did other parts of her. Dillon felt it and finally released her arm from his grip as if he had been handling hot coals.

Isabelle smiled. He wasn't as immune to this as he pretended. She concentrated fiercely on some particularly hot images and almost laughed when he groaned.

You'll pay for that.

Pay for what?

Isabelle was starting to enjoy herself. That is, until the reality of her predicament came crashing back. It was amazing how easy it was for her to forget what was happening when Dillon was in the vicinity.

Dillon moved away from the bed and snapped on another light. Striding purposely towards the end of the bed, he scrutinized her from head to toe. Or toe to head as it were. Granted, she wasn't totally naked, the skimpy t-shirt covered some of her, but not enough. It wouldn't have mattered if she had been wearing winter snow gear, she had a feeling he would have seen through it. His eyes were stormy as they took her in. His gaze was that piercing.




Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 05



He still had a glove on his right hand and she briefly wondered why he hadn't bothered to take it off yet.

She tried not to squirm under his stare but it took a lot of effort. Lord, he was intimidating. Stunningly handsome in a rugged way, with hands that said he wasn't afraid of hard work, but that could caress your cheek with such tenderness you didn't feel the rough calluses. His shoulders were broad and accentuated with strong arms covered in a fine mat of black hair. His hair was longer than most men kept theirs and she liked that about him. And his eyes, oh God, his eyes; they had been haunting her dreams for months now, those piercing, dark eyes that seemed to bore into her soul.

Her skin prickled everywhere his eyes graced. First, raking over her legs, which were bare due to his ripping the sheet off in one smooth motion, then, over her mound and up to her stomach. He made quick work of the t-shirt, finishing it off in one quick tear. He perused her newly exposed breasts until finally moving gently up to her face. A steady clear gaze met her equally steady one.

The power of his perusal was palpable. The air hung thick over an already supercharged atmosphere and Isabelle found it impossible to tear her eyes away. She hoped futilely that he couldn't see what was in her heart and mind at the moment because Lord knows it scared her to death. He provoked such a volatile reaction in her. Even she couldn't understand the depth of emotion she felt for him. She only knew it was stronger than anything she had ever felt.

Yes, it is strong. We have something no one else has. But you don't need to fear it.

Damn it Dillon, just because you can read someone's mind doesn't mean you should.

He just arched a brow at her and shrugged.

"We can have no secrets, why bother pretending we can?" he asked, logically, reasonably even, as if it was completely normal to speak to someone else through your mind. She didn't even know what it was called, telepathy, empathy, or some form of it. That much she knew but she didn't know if this connection they shared even had a technical name.

She knew he was right, but did he have to sound quite so calm about it? She supposed he had had a longer time to adjust to their newfound power than she had and that must account for his rational analysis. But it still rankled.

"Stop fighting it and stop pouting. I suggest we make the best of it."

"Of course you would suggest that, you're not the one tied up," she muttered.

His hands reached out to grip her ankles above her restraints, one warm and smooth palm and one cool, leather bound touch. She promptly forgot what she was about to say as his touch registered on her skin. His thumbs began massaging her calves, slowly working his way up to her knees. The heat from his left hand penetrated her skin while the leather clad hand was a little cooler.

Her knee felt trapped on all sides by leather. It was cool and soft but his grip was not. She watched his face as his fingers took liberties with her body. His expression was shuddered; his eyes slanted in such a way as to not reveal anything of what he was thinking.

She wished she knew if what was happening was real or not. Could it be possible that they shared a connection that somehow allowed them to communicate via their minds? The proof was hard to deny, unless she had completely lost her mind and was just hearing her own voice in her head, which, considering the predicament she was in, could be a plausible explanation.

Quit thinking Isabelle. It is real.

Isabelle ignored him and decided that crazy or not, she was getting entirely too used to him answering her this way. It was comforting in a way, to know that your whole self was vulnerable and open to another, that there were no secrets, nothing that could separate them.

It was also one of the scariest things she had ever experienced. Trust did not come easily to her and here was this man demanding she trust him with all of her heart, mind and soul. And in the meantime he would come to know every little thing about her, every secret she had kept, every lie she had ever told and the fears that kept her up at night.

I already know your secrets Belle and the only lie I concern myself with is the one you keep trying to tell yourself now. The one that says this isn't happening, you don't really love me and that you can hide from me, all lies. As to your fear of giving of yourself, well I'm afraid it's a little too late for that. You give with every breath you take.

He squeezed her thighs tightly as if to emphasize his point. Isabelle felt her eyes well up at his message. Her heart clutched tightly in her chest and she felt a floating sense of peace overcome her. Letting go was sometimes the hardest thing to do, but something in his psychic touch reassured her that he could be trusted, completely and fully.

Faced with the truth, she finally let herself float on a cloud of pleasure as he stroked her legs. His touch was deceptively soft but determined.

For instance, the way he used his gloved hand to slowly slide up her thigh while his non-gloved hand slipped under her thigh to squeeze her bottom. The heat followed his bare hand and traveled under her thigh and into the muscles of her buttocks, spreading a soothing feeling throughout. Her legs moved restlessly, almost involuntarily, seeking his touch.

Her bottom felt warm from his hand and she yearned to feel him squeezing her again. Almost immediately he complied. In the fog-like state he managed to get her in every time he was near, she had totally forgotten he was reading her mind and was startled when he complied with her unspoken wish. When hot, dirty, pulsating images of things she would never name out loud began running through her head she realized how dangerous it was to have him seeing into her thoughts. Dear God, even her fantasies weren't safe.

There was no answering response to her last thoughts and for that she was grateful. She sensed he was deliberately ignoring the thoughts he didn't want to acknowledge. She yelped out loud when he squeezed her bottom even harder, giving acknowledgement to her last mental snipe.

His gloved hand continued its journey up her thigh, finally settling on that soft flesh next to her hipbone, where it rested companionably, almost nonchalantly, except his hand spanned her skin in such a possessive way it made her tremble. Every touch of his hand, even through the glove, made her feel loved in a way she had never experienced - protected, cherished, treasured; those were just a few of the emotions taking root in her heart.

Yes my love.

Soothing warmth poured through her limbs at his unspoken endearment. He always knew what she needed; she didn't know how, she only knew he did. His hands continued their torturous journey up her torso, skimming her tummy and spanning her waist. Her breath caught when the leather clad hand brushed the underside of her breast. His warm palm of his other hand cupped her other breast. Her nipples contracted, straining upwards like a flower seeking sunlight.

Her other breast was encased in satiny soft leather worn smooth by years of work. She could feel the heat of his hand through the glove but not as intensely as that of his other hand. A soft moan escaped her lips when his fingertips twisted and pulled on her nipples. The peaks stiffened further, reddening from his semi-rough handling of them.

She ached deep in her womb and she silently begged him to touch her. To please touch her swollen lips, her distended clit, and the moist heat flowing from her center. At that very moment she would have given anything to have him do as she wished. His hands reacted to her pleas, stilling on her breasts yet continuing to hold her nipples tightly in his fingertips. The ache intensified as a rolling, churning, torrid sensation gripped her loins.

"Dillon," she breathed.

"Yes dear, I know your pussy is aching. That's how I want it to be for me always, Isabelle, always swollen and weeping."

The soft tenor of his voice washed over her. His gentle tone gave no indication of his intent, but she knew. Oh yes, she knew. She squirmed into the mattress, trying without success to ease the unbearably delicious twinges happening inside her. They were taking over her entire being; they were all she could think about, these pulsating, throbbing, sweet contractions taking over her body.

His gloved hand flickered over her mound and she bucked as high as her restraints would allow, which wasn't much given his natural rope tying ability. She struggled to get her heels on the bed and could just barely manage it. It didn't provide her much control in this twisted power struggle they had going on, but she would take what she could get.

Is this where you want to be touched Belle? Do you want me to stroke your pussy lips like this?

He punctuated his question by lightly dragging a finger over one swollen lip.

Or like this?

He squeezed the other lip and pulled on it, entangling his gloved fingers in her pubic hair.

Isabelle opened her mouth to answer but nothing came out. She squeaked out a reply, she wasn't sure what, but something unintelligible as her pussy reacted to his touch. He exerted enough pressure so that she felt his every stroke, but not enough to soothe the turgid emotions boiling inside her.

Or like this Belle?

His hand covered her entire mound, the leather gliding smoothly over her pussy lips. Fingers twisted in her hair and pulled. Sweet pangs twisted her stomach as he held her powerless in his grasp. Wetness seeped out of her and covered his glove and yet he continued to hold her, gazing down at her with all the passion he felt evident in his eyes. 

He didn't have to look at her to know what she was feeling; he could feel every twitch, every tickle, and every contraction she felt. It was part of the deal. But he looked because he liked seeing her like that.

She felt like a thousand ants had taken shelter under her skin and were scurrying too and fro in an effort to rush home. Every nerve ending danced wildly and chills flitted up and down her body with undiluted glee. She had never been this close to orgasm without being touched, but it was like she was under a spell. A lust spell? Yes, that was it. What other reason could there be for this hot enveloping sensation overtaking her?

What other reason indeed?

Tug. Her lips were stretched a little as he pulled but that only made it worse. She wanted to cry out but knew he would enjoy that, so she held off for just that reason. Another sharp pull was his answer. Her lips were trembling and her insides were quaking but she didn't cry out.

And when he used his fingers to pry her apart with one slightly wet gloved hand and one warm one she didn't cry out either. Leather bound fingertips glided up and down her folds, circulating wetness over her vulva and up and over her clit and drawing a sharp breath from her.

If he had exerted even the tiniest of pressure on her clit she was sure she would have come, but he studiously avoided putting any real pressure on her. That alone was enough to make her cry out in despair. Oh, she knew he would pleasure her, he always did, but sometimes the waiting was more than she could bear. Being tied down only added to her stress.

Your pussy is so very hungry babe. I almost feel sorry for you. Almost. It's just your bad luck or maybe my good luck that you hunger for me like you do. I love seeing you squirming for me like this with your pussy lips spread wide open, all glowing and pink. So damned delicious.

"Please Dillon, touch me."

"Hmm, you want me to touch you? You want me to end your misery? I don't know sweetheart, I kind of like you like this, all achy and dribbling sweet pussy juice all over my hand. It's how I always picture you."

Isabelle groaned, her head thrashing a little from side to side as his words punctuated her brain. She was going to die of desire if he didn't stop holding her pussy hostage. As if to show her how generous he was, he let her pubic hair slide through his fingers, finally releasing her pussy.

A hard gloved finger soon replaced his whole hand and he teased her opening with the tip of his finger. Unable to resist what he was offering she pushed against him, hoping to pull him into her. He was stronger and resisted pushing his finger deeper as she wanted him to.

If he wanted a power struggle he wasn't going to get one, Isabelle decided, she no longer had it in her to fight him. She had effectively become his prisoner, for she would do anything to feel like she did in this moment. To have this sweet aching in her womb for him, to feel this throbbing hunger deep inside her nether regions was beyond compare to any other emotion she had ever experienced.

Her hips arched towards his hand, desiring his touch, his affection, his discipline. He made her stretch beyond herself, made her reach for things that had once seemed unattainable but were now enticingly within reach. He tested her and smiled approvingly every time she passed his test.

"I'm going to finger fuck you now love. You're going to feel this soft, slightly worn, leather sliding in and out of your pussy and you're going to want to cum. I don't want you to cum until I tell you Belle. When this is over you will know who this pussy belongs to without a doubt. But until then, you will cum only when I say."

She looked at him with all the love and trust in her heart shining in her eyes and nodded. She didn't know how she would comply with his order, she was twitching violently inside, but she would try.

Velvety soft leather covered a finger as hard as steel as he followed through on his promise and pushed into her. She clamped down on the smooth textured finger displacing her pussy juice as he made room for his invasion. He didn't stop pushing until his leather clad fist was jammed up against her lips.

There was no helping the violent clutching of her walls as he stretched her to accept his finger. His finger curled up and stroked upwards, as if trying to stroke her clit from underneath. More liquid heat enveloped his finger but she didn't come, although she had to clench her teeth to stop the release of turbulent desire she felt. Her release waited impatiently on the other side.

He used his finger like a corkscrew, drilling into her and twisting inside and against her walls. Relentlessly he pushed on, pushing deeply into her and holding it there for a long second, before pulling out slowly and watching her wetness cling to his gloved finger. Her lips grasped at his finger when he pulled too far away, and he would laugh teasingly every time at her eagerness.

Isabelle was beyond caring if she appeared too eager, she was too eager. He held her orgasm in his hand, and withheld it from her over and over again. A growing stain of dampness grew under her as he teased her pussy. There was no denying the effect he had on her.

His thrusts grew stronger and her hips jutted up to receive him. Roughly, almost methodically, he began to fuck her pussy. Strong warm lips moved to possess her mouth and she opened her lips to accept his tongue, thrusting into her mouth with the same rhythm of his finger. She was going to cum even if he didn't command her to. She couldn't help the overwhelming sensations pouring through her.

"Don't do it Isabelle." he growled into her mouth.

She sucked on his tongue as he delved into her mouth and inhaled his essence. She had no intention of obeying him. Her body was in control now. Her mind and will were forced to sit quietly in the backseat of this ride.

She felt the familiar ache grow to terrifying intensity and sucked on his tongue harder, fiercely willing him to give her the command she craved. The velvet soft slickness of his tongue caressed and plumbed the recesses of her mouth, possessing every inch. She moaned and urged his finger to move faster with the urgings of her hips.

He refused to acknowledge her urgings and instead slipped another finger into her. The sudden infusion of two thick, warm fingers caught her off guard and she cried out. He moved slowly at first, giving her time to adjust to this new thickness he was ramming into her.

His patience soon wore thin, and before long she felt him using his fingers to spread her apart from the inside. He explored her walls, reached for her cervix and caressed the knobby entrance before moving to the back of her pussy and learning the texture of her skin there. She felt hollowed out, used, her pussy exposed and open to his every whim. But she didn't want him to stop. More than anything she wanted him to know every single inch of her.

And before long he did, his fingers diving in and out of her pussy with the same methodical slow rhythm he had set earlier. The air was being sucked out of her faster than she could replace it and she knew she was panting like an animal. Her breath came out in short, choppy gasps. He swallowed every one, pushing his will on her with intense strokes designed to drive her crazy.

With a choked sob, she rode his fingers, begging him with her mouth and pussy to give her what she needed. His fingers only increased their determined thrusting, sliding deeply into her before pulling out to his fingertips once again. Each time her hips would follow, desperately hoping for more.

Finally he grunted the words that would grant her release into her mouth.

"Cum for me Isabelle. Pour out your pussy for me." He punctuated his statement with several hard thrusts deep into her.

Isabelle needed no other encouragement. Her release was a combination of pain and pleasure as wave after wave shook her. Her pussy clamped down on his fingers and squeezed down over and over again as a strangled scream escaped her lips.

He didn't stop pushing his fingers into her, if anything he pushed into her even further. He was greedy for the feel of her clamping down on him. She gave him what he wanted without reservations; her body could do no less.

Her ears were ringing when he finally slowed his assault. She knew she had experienced an orgasm, but it had never been like that before. It was almost painful, as if he was pulling from her things she had never given anyone else. Things she thought were safely tucked away. But he managed to get at her core and take everything that wasn't nailed down.

Through hazy eyes she watched him untie her feet. She wiggled her feet when the ropes came off and looked up at him expectantly.

He smiled at her grimly but didn't give her any clues as to his next move. She didn't have to wait long as strong arms slid under her ass and pushed her to the head of the bed. The tension from the chains on her wrists eased as she was moved but not enough to allow her any real movement. He pulled her into a sitting position leaving her to wonder what was next.

She was saved from further thought as Dillon suddenly loomed over her. He had stripped off his clothes and was now standing on the bed, his cock jutting formidably in front of him and in front of her. The glove was gone but one hand was behind his back. In her orgasm induced state she was unable to read his thoughts, and tried instead to peek around him.

"Oh no, you don't. I want you to close your eyes Isabelle."

She obeyed, closing her eyes and trusting that whatever came next would ultimately be a good thing.

Her eyes flew open as cold hard rubber greeted her pussy lips. Dillon was kneeling in front of her and trying to work a massive dildo into her pussy. The fake veined head was sliding in and out of her but he hadn't yet pushed the whole thing into her. Good thing, too, she wasn't sure she wanted it inside her. The thing was a monster.

You will take all of it, you've taken all of me, and you'll take all of this.




Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 05



Her pussy seemed to contradict her desires by pulling on the fake cock instead. It slipped a little farther inside as her hips rocked forward.

"Yes love, feel that thick cock inside you? You want to know why I want to shove this dildo inside your pussy? I need to have something thick and hard in your pussy when you suck on my cock. I need to know your pussy is clenching something tightly, need to know its getting wetter by the minute. Lift up Isabelle."

She obeyed using her feet to lift up until the dildo was positioned directly underneath her. Her hips tilted forward to accommodate it and the head slid in easily. She had yet to ease her weight down half afraid she would be impaled so instead she used her heels to hover precariously over it. The chains wrapped around her wrists gave her the extra strength she needed to accomplish that task.

Dillon straightened back up until he was again standing over her. His cock was jutting dangerously close to her face but the dildo positioned under her was demanding her full attention. Dillon's hand snaked out to tangle in her hair. Warm fingertips massaged her neck in a deceptively mild manner. Her back arched as strong fingers caressed the soft delicate skin at her throat.

"Push down Isabelle."

"I can't, it's too big Dillon."

"Yes you can. Push yourself down."

Isabelle gritted her teeth and let her aching muscles relax until she began to feel the thick member moving even farther into her pussy. She immediately pulled back up only to feel Dillon's hand on her neck pushing her back down. Understanding dawned and she realized this was what he wanted; her, impaled on the dildo.

Dillon's hand encircled her neck and moved to tilt her chin up. He gazed down at her as she complied with his wishes. His eyes willed her to take all of it. She met his gaze with a hint of defiance but did as he asked nonetheless. When the dildo was fully engulfed inside her, she began to register the fullness spreading throughout, leaving no section of her pussy untouched. Her womb ached from the rigid unyielding member lodged inside of her and her pussy contracted involuntarily.

"Roll your hips, Belle. Move a little on that thick cock filling up your pussy."

"Oh fuck, oh my God." Belle croaked out as she rolled her hips and felt the hard thickness rubbing against her walls.

"Hmm, that's right. You see why I wanted you to have something inside your pussy when you're sucking my cock? I want that fullness inside you while you milk my cock. I want you coming while you're sucking my cock into that beautiful mouth of yours."

His words brought a fresh wave of urgency to her already battered pussy and she clutched tightly at the dildo filling her. She watched as Dillon moved closer to her position. He wrapped a handful of her hair around his fist and brought her head closer to his cock. She knew what he wanted, knew he wanted her mouth wrapped around him.

She wanted it too, wanted to taste the tiny drop of pre-cum dangling from his head. She needed to feel the marble smooth head sliding past her lips and against her tongue.

Her tongue darted out to lick the wetness gathered at his tip. The slightly salty yet sweet taste of him only served to increase her longing for him. She leaned closer to lick the sides of his shaft, using her tongue to lap at his long member. Rigid veins met her efforts and throbbed and pulsed enticingly against her lips.

Realizing that it wasn't enough, she scooted even closer until her mouth was centimeters from his balls. She ached to cup them. Instead she used her mouth to love them. Licking the soft underside and up and over until she reached the base of his cock. Frustrated because her hands were unable to caress him, she nipped softly at his base and smiled against his warm thickness when he jumped slightly. She quickly soothed the spot with her tongue.

The grip on her hair tightened and she knew he didn't have a lot of patience for games. His need was urgent and he would tolerate no more games from her. Still she lingered at his base, circling her tongue around and around. She was particularly interested in the sides of his shaft for some reason and couldn't get enough of running her tongue up and down the sides of him. She pursed her mouth and kissed the bulging head demanding her attention.

Dillon's body arched towards her. She opened her mouth to receive the pulsing cock insisting on entrance to the warm cave of her mouth. He was so large and thick inside her mouth. He jerked as the moist heat of her mouth enveloped him.

Isabelle reveled in the hard member invading her mouth. Images were flashing through her brain faster than she could compute them, but she knew Dillon had plans for her and her mouth. The thought of those plans caused her to squirm.

"Suck the sides Isabelle."

She obeyed without question, moving her mouth to suck on the tender soft skin with the steel running underneath it. She moved her mouth up and down each side, learning every part of his cock, from the angry veins that pulsed under her tongue to the tuft of pubic hair that tickled her nose when she was close to his base.

"Pull up, suck the head only." He issued orders like one accustomed to being obeyed.

The head of his cock filled her mouth and she concentrated on rolling it between her lips. She enveloped his head and sucked until her cheeks hollowed out from the effort. She heard his sharp intake of breath and knew she wasn't the only one being affected so powerfully.

"I want you gagging on my cock babe. Suck harder!" he yelled, pressing down on her neck even harder.

Strong waves emanated from deep inside her womb as the dildo slid further into her. His cock proceeded to glide all the way into her mouth until she felt him bumping against her tonsils. Immediately she felt herself begin to gag and fought the impulse. It was good she did, as he continued to propel himself forward. He held her tightly in place as he pulsed and jerked in her mouth. Her own body pulsed and clutched in response.

Pulling back he withdrew until the tip of his cock was again at the entrance of her mouth then thrust slowly back. Over and over he fucked her mouth, used it as his own personal fuck toy. He never sped up his pace, simply kept pushing in and pulling out. He always made sure to touch the back of her throat before pulling out to just his head. Sometimes he varied in that he would stop and roll his cock around her mouth. Other times he would simply use his hands to push her even harder onto the dildo in her pussy.

"Stick your tongue out Isabelle. I want you to lick the balls at my base."

Sticking her tongue out only allowed him better access to the back of her throat and he knew it. When his cock was fully embedded in her mouth, she stuck her tongue out and licked his balls. She lapped at them the best she could until he yanked her back up to his head again. She sucked furiously on his offering, loving the harsh little breaths coming from him and the answering beat of her own heart. Every time his cock bobbed in her mouth her pussy tightened on the dildo making her squirm further.

Dillon's hand completely tangled in her hair as his pace quickened slightly. He pushed her down with harsh force. She was tightening and clenching almost uncontrollably over the monstrous thickness she was riding. Her position was so awkward and yet she felt nothing save for the thick hardness she had her lips wrapped around and the pulsating throb in her pussy.

Squeeze that pussy for me Belle.

Oh God help her, she did, over and over. It was like a fist was squeezing her from the inside that wouldn't let go. His cock began to jerk in response. She knew he could feel the tensing of her pussy as if his own cock was lodged inside because of the way he reacted to every contraction she had. She squeezed even tighter now and felt his answering bob in her mouth.

His hands tensed on her neck and his grip forced her down until the dildo slid completely home and was fully encased in her snug sheath. She tried to gasp around his cock but he only shoved it farther into her mouth. Her pussy was contracting non-stop on the dildo and yet she rode it with a violence that scared her, not caring that her throat was full of cock, not caring that this thick, monstrous dildo filled her to capacity and then some, and not caring that Dillon's hands guided her every movement. She was free of all the ties that bound her, and she reveled in it.

"Cum for me Isabelle."

The command was spoken softly, yet authoritatively. 

Isabelle's hips rocketed back and forth under his command. Her mouth tightened and sucked even harder as pulsing threads of pleasure shot through her pussy. Dillon's hands kept up their brutal pace, forcing her to continue to ride the dildo, shoving more and more thick hard rubber deep into her womb. Great rolling waves of bliss consumed her every nerve ending and pore until the dam broke. Squirts of hot fluid shot out of her and covered the dildo and the sheets. Tears spilled from her eyes as the ecstasy was just too much, too overwhelming, too consuming.

Dillon pulled out of her mouth and another spurt of hot fluid seared her skin, this time on her neck and chest. She looked down through tear clouded eyes and saw thick ropes of cum covering her breasts and neck.

In a daze she watched his cum mark her skin, watched as it covered her, heated her and left her feeling possessed. She had never known what women liked about the classic pearl necklace until now, until Dillon, until she had known what it felt like to have a man you loved cum on you and want to cry because you couldn't lap up every precious drop.

She felt his eyes on her and looked up to meet his gaze. His eyes were still smoldering from their experience together. He nodded to let her know he understood how she felt.

Slowly he rubbed his cum onto one of her nipples, then gathered some on his finger and brought it to her mouth. She opened her mouth and moaned as she tasted his seed. She sucked his finger clean. Then did it again and again as he fed her his cum, drop after drop until every bead had been removed from her.

The spell was broken by the chime of a clock ringing through the house. Isabelle felt as if her world had tilted on its axis. She looked around the room, at the chains wrapped around her wrists, the dildo shoved into her pussy and at the man who had brought her here. It was all so surreal; as if she was watching this happen to another woman in a movie theatre. But this was no ordinary movie theatre, it was triple XXX rated. It was also very real and so was he if his grim smile was any indication.

Dillon released his hold on her hair and sank to his knees in front of her. He reached down to remove the dildo, jiggling it around several times before fully removing it and setting it aside.

"Damn you Isabelle, you turn me into a savage. Why is it never enough? How come I just had you and want you again? You must be a witch for you have me completely under your spell."

"I am no witch Dillon as you well know."

"Hmm, I think I'll reserve judgment on that." His eyes scoured her face as if hoping to find the answer there and when none was forthcoming, his frown lines deepened, bracketing the corners of his mouth.

Reaching behind her, he fiddled with her restraints until they came loose. Her fingers itched to touch his face and she didn't refuse herself the need.

His skin felt like velvet against her fingers and she boldly stroked his face. It was like her fingers had a mind of their own, silently tracing and memorizing every line and plane of his face, from his bold cheekbones to his stubborn chin. They traveled over his eyelids and felt the delicate flutter underneath, they sought out the tender lobes of his ears and finally, they danced over his soft full lips.

"Dillon," she murmured her voice thick with unshed emotion.

Yes, my love, I know.

Strong hands reached out to caress her face. She moved closer, wrapping her arms around his neck as her body sought out his warmth. He pulled her towards him and kissed her deeply. Everything else was forgotten as they tumbled onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs.

His hard, warm thigh wedged in between her legs as his body covered hers. The heat alone was enough to send shockwaves through her, but the added benefit of feeling the entire length of his body pressed against hers overrode the small tremors and soon turned into a full blown earthquake.

Her hands raced to touch him everywhere that she had been denied earlier. From his broad shoulders to his arms blanketed in furry dark hair. Her fingers roamed his chest and stomach, eager to make up for lost time. His breathing became ragged as her hands continued their exploration. She liked having this affect on him. It also confirmed that she wasn't alone in her desires.

You're definitely not alone Belle.

She ignored his attempt to engage her in communication via their minds. She was too busy enjoying the feel of his skin and the rough hair that tickled her fingertips. Her mouth found the spot where his collar bone joined with his neck and she bit down softly, relishing in the feel and taste of his skin.

She continued her explorations and nuzzled her way up to his ear, whispering her desires while softly nipping at his tender lobe.

Dillon reared back but didn't release her. His hands moved to either side of her where he cradled her head gently. Fingers entwined in her hair as he focused his gaze on her.

You are mine Belle.

And you are mine.

She answered back showing him with her heart and mind everything he was to her and more. They stayed that way, each locked into the other's gaze for what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes. Things were communicated that couldn't be spoken out loud - need, love, desire so intense it took her breath away but she refused to look away.

Spread your legs for me, open yourself up to me Isabelle.

She complied willingly, opening herself up to him and all the pleasure he would bring.

He wasn't gentle in his taking of her, if anything his movements were jerky, savage almost, but she knew his control was slipping despite his best efforts. She loved it and wanted more. It was almost a pathological need she had to see him as helpless as she felt when he touched her.

Look at me again Belle. Do you see what you're doing to me?

Yes I see.

Heat spread throughout her entire body as she met his eyes. It was the same strange warming sensation she'd felt when he first touched her but she understood what it meant now. It was him invading her mind, body and soul and claiming it as his.

His hands framed her face and held her in place while he searched her face. His hips moved closer and she felt him nestling in closer to her core. The heat of his erection pulsing at her entrance held her spellbound and she struggled to catch her breath.

"Squeeze for me Isabelle." The words barely made it past his compressed lips but the message hit her like a jolt. She squeezed involuntarily and felt his answering pulse back.

Using his elbows braced on either side of her head, he surged forward but didn't release his grip. The head of his cock demanded entrance and she was more than willing, wiggling her hips upward to allow him entrance.

Holding her head gently and looking into her eyes, he pushed into her slowly, filling her to capacity and still pushing. A long groan escaped her mouth as the fullness and warmth of his member took possession of her. He was so large compared to the dildo she had been riding - thick, full, hot, and pulsing inside her.

"Squeeze and hold it Isabelle, hold it, keep holding it. I'll train this pussy right; teach it to suck my cock like your mouth does. I love the way your pussy responds to me, so wet and sloppy. I can feel every squeeze, every ripple. Like a warm milking massage." He said all of that while looking directly at her, his hands holding her in case she tried to turn away.

His words were meant to shock and provoke a reaction from her and they did, causing her to bear down even harder. She refused to look away though. It was so intense with him; he knew just what to say and do to bring her to the brink.

"See how I'm holding back Belle, even when it's almost painful, when sweat is beading on my brow, and you're pussy is contracting around me? And still I hold back, you want to know why love?" He ground into her a little more.

"Because I love making you cum." He thrust forward an inch. "Love feeling you rippling over my cock." He ground his hips in a circular motion. "Love feeling you squeeze for me when I ask you to." His cock swelled as she did indeed contract around him. 

She only groaned in response, too far gone for words now.

"It's so selfish of me I know. I chastise you for moving when you're not supposed to and yet I want you to because you tighten so nicely over me. So damned tight, so FUCKING GOOD," he said through gritted teeth, the words barely slipping past his tightly held lips and punctuated by his strong thrusts.

"Don't move Belle, I won't have it," he warned when he didn't move the way she wanted and she wiggled against him in a useless attempt to get her way. "I will take my cock away if you try."

To demonstrate his cruelty and mastery over her he pulled back until only the head of his cock was nestled between her lips, barely grazing her insides. She moaned in pain, and begged.

"Please Dillon, please."

"No," he answered firmly.

"Squeeze," he demanded yet again pushing into her as she did so. "Hold it, Isabelle. Hold it, hold it...., okay."

Isabelle felt like her insides were about to burst but she resisted the temptation to move, despite her urgent need to do so. She couldn't bear the thought of him pulling out of her again. Her need was too great to hold in check for long and before she knew it her hips again sought him out.

"I want you to take it deep, so fucking deep. Do you hear me?" Dillon ground out his mouth mimicking his hip motions as he consumed her mouth again.

Her answer was lost as she kissed him back desperately, holding on for dear life as his cock filled her completely. He captured her moans in his mouth and continued to propel himself forward, his cock throbbing and angry.

Isabelle had never felt anything like this before, the intensity of her emotions threatened to take over and she fought back a sob. Dillon's possession of her was more than sexual; it was consuming her very soul. She no longer felt alone, she felt as if she belonged. And she knew who she belonged to; the man filling her pussy with his thick warm cock and filling her soul with love.

Her pussy contracted over him again and again, seeking his answering throb. He never failed to comply, thickening and growing harder every time. She squeezed him purposely, using her muscles to hold him in their grasp. He growled into her mouth and pulled out before thrusting back in with brute force.

The wet sloshing noises she heard were coming from their joined bodies and the slick wetness he generated in her. She found that she liked hearing the sounds of their lovemaking.

Yes my sweet. I love the sound of your wet pussy reaching for me, wrapping around me and coating me. I want more, always more.

Fuck me, oh god please.

Dillon reared back and released her head temporarily, slinging her legs over his shoulders then repositioning his hands in her hair. He watched her intently and continued driving into her, this time with even more force.

Isabelle gasped as the new position allowed him even greater access to her womb. She felt hollowed out and full, so full. She loved it, arching her hips up to take even more of what he offered.

"Cum for Isabelle. I want you to spray my cock with your pussy juice, wet me even more. Cum!"




Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 05



His words acted like a trigger, sending a signal to her pussy. She squeezed down and rode his cock as he filled her over and over.

"I love you Dillon." She gasped out before her world shattered.

Dillon's determination to drive her mad was paying off. Lights sparked behind her eyes and her body curled up to accept him as she came, shattering into a million pieces while Dillon's body rocked into hers.

The loud roar in her ears signaled Dillon's release. He pumped into her, coming deep inside her pussy while her fingers dug into his shoulders.

Isabelle's body continued to contract, rippling and tingling around Dillon. Their breathing finally slowed but he did not release her or move away. She watched him as he struggled to regain some semblance of control. She was not so lucky; she knew she would never be in control again.

Dillon lowered her legs but did not pull out of her, instead he settled himself between her legs, resting his weight on his elbows. He stared at her with smoky gray eyes and then smiled softly.

"I love you Isabelle. I always have, I just had to find you." He leaned down and kissed her gently, showing her how much he cared in one kiss.

Dillon's declaration took her breath away. Staring back at him was all she could manage as a rush of emotions surged through her. Oh Lord, she loved this man, she didn't know how it happened or why, but she didn't care. He was everything she needed and more, including the added benefit of being able to communicate with him telepathically, although that was a little strange and would take some getting used to.

Isabelle knew her life had changed forever. A life she now looked forward to, full of discovering everything about him, of nights spent in ecstasy, and a love so incredible she would never be the same.

Sighing in satisfaction she pulled Dillon back down towards her and claimed his mouth for another kiss. He held her close and kissed her back with all the passion and love he held inside for her.

Mine Isabelle.

And you are mine Dillon.

Isabelle smiled to herself and shot a quick mental image to Dillon before curling up next to him on the bed. He howled in outrage.

"What exactly does that mean?" he questioned.

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see," she answered sweetly before scrambling off the bed to run.



Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 06



Author's note:

Hello Readers,

I'm so pleased you're back to read the final, final installment of Isabelle's Awakening. This is my last submission to Literotica due to a desire to try my hand at self-publishing. However, I felt I owed my loyal readers one more round of Isabelle and Dillon before moving on. Thank you all for the love, feedback, and support you have shown since I began writing here so many years ago. Enjoy!

Jp Grace

**********

Isabelle sat at the kitchen table wrapped in her robe and glared at the website in frustration. Dillon's eyes mocked her from his picture. It wasn't fair. She was stronger than this. Unfortunately, she could only lie to herself for so long and staying glued to her laptop hoping he would contact her didn't do much to dispel that lie.

She snapped the lid closed with a decisive click. Enough torture for one day, it was time to get a move on.

Sipping her coffee, she tried to focus her attention on her schedule but it was pointless, her mind kept returning to Dillon and last night's dream. She was still shaken from the rapacious nature of their shared nightly sojourns. His presence in her bed and mind were impossible to ignore.

But it was silly of her to wish for contact now when she had been the one to run away six months ago.

Jesus, she had never experienced anything like that before and wasn't sure she wanted to again. No, that wasn't true; she did, but icy talons of fear held her in their terrible grasp.

Being with Dillon was terrifying and exhilarating. But what would it cost her? She had sold her soul for what she thought was love before and look how well that had turned out; separated from her husband and on the road to a divorce they had both agreed to. Her kids, when they deigned to visit, refused to spend more than a day or two at her new house. What time they were here was spent trying their best to avoid her or yelling at her. Not that she blamed them. She deserved their anger. Anger, however, wasn't going to heal their family.

Her husband felt differently. She had told him what happened and he had immediately and loudly asked her to leave their home. The guilt kept her from fighting for him or their marriage. Besides, she knew it was over. How could she ever be with him after Dillon? The answer was she couldn't and it wouldn't be fair to pretend otherwise.

Now she was alone for the first time in her life except for her German Shepherd, Lacy. Strangely, she didn't mind it, but she missed her family desperately. She missed the hugs of her children, the sloppy piles of dirty clothes, dishes in the sink, and the accompanying noises that came with a full house.

Needing an outlet, she filled her time with work. Since her only skills had been heavy in the mother department and light on actual outside work experience, she had decided to offer her services as a sort of helpmate to anyone who would pay her a decent hourly rate.

She had tacked up flyers at all the local grocery stores, laundry mats, senior centers, and community centers she could find, often coming home sweaty and exhausted. At long last, her efforts were starting to pay off.

Within a week the calls had started. At first, it seemed as if they were only curious, but then she got a few jobs, then a few more each subsequent week until she had no choice but to hire an assistant.

Francine, a young retiree, worked two days a week and was as sweet as they came. Their older customers loved her and frequently requested her for jobs. Isabelle understood their affection, as Francine was a fantastic cook with a warm, generous heart who often brought samples of her labors in the kitchen to Isabelle and their clients.

Since the work she performed was relatively simple, she had no need for a formal office space and had adopted a battered dining room table as her base of operations. Some customers wanted meals prepared, others wanted their laundry washed and folded. Older customers tended to need the most care but mostly wanted the companionship she and Francine offered. She ran errands, went grocery shopping and picked up after people. It was what she had always known, except now the family she picked up after was a hodgepodge of customers, her lone employee, and Lacy.

Still, she didn't regret it. Of course she regretted the pain she had caused her family but somehow, someway, she knew she would have been in this very same place at this very same time regardless of whether Dillon had entered her life or not. Maybe her intuition was stronger since "linking" with Dillon but her gut told her it was true. She wished she could have done it differently and spared her kids and husband pain, but it couldn't be changed. All she could do was move forward and hope they would forgive her in time. Judging by their non-existent relationship as it stood right now, it was going to take a long time.

When not absorbed with work, she was obsessed with learning all she could about telepathy, specifically, how to stop it. After reading page after page of dry research papers, she still wasn't sure that was what she and Dillon shared, especially since six months had passed and she hadn't felt or heard any thoughts in her head except her own. If it wasn't for the dreams that haunted her every night, she could almost believe none of it had happened.

God, the dreams. Every night he appeared in her dreams and she was powerless to stop it. It was stalking at its worst and best. Escape wasn't possible. Hiding physically was easy in comparison to hiding her mind from a man who could reach her at all times if she wasn't guarding against it. And at night her mind escaped the restraints she put on it during the daylight hours and roamed freely.

Some nights the dreams were innocent, a silken caress on the cheek, a soft kiss placed just so at the side of her mouth; other times they were violent in their obsession and need. The dreams were also his way of marking her as his. That much she knew. There was no mistaking the decidedly avaricious nature of his thoughts during the night. Most of the time she woke tangled in the sheets, her skin slicked with sweat, and Dillon firmly in her head.

No distinct thoughts presented themselves though, just hunger so thick it coursed through her veins like old motor oil, slow to clear and harder still to get rid of. Not that she cared if he no longer talked to her via their thoughts, she didn't. It was just odd the connection they had had vanished like a puff of smoke the minute she walked away. Was their connection only viable when in close proximity? She had no clear way to test that theory as she had no clue where Dillon was and his website hadn't offered any clues. She wasn't sure if he was two miles away or a thousand.

Looking back, it all seemed rather ridiculous. They had communicated without speaking....with their minds for crying out loud! Isabelle shook her head. It seemed so surreal. She had spent quite a bit of time questioning her sanity since and no amount of reading up on the subject made her feel any better about the whole experience.

It didn't matter. She had to focus on what she had learned and more importantly, her future. Months of research had taught her the necessary skills to close off her mind when or if she should ever meet Dillon again. Part of her hoped she never had to put those newfound skills to the test and yet deep down she yearned to feel his touch again. The fact remained Dillon had a strong hold on her and coming face to face to him after what they had shared would be taxing in her current state of mind.

Sighing, Isabelle swallowed the last of her coffee and rinsed her mug before heading to her room to change into a light summer dress and flip flops; dressing how she wanted was another perk that came with being her own boss. She grabbed her bag and list of things to do and headed to her car. Time to get on with her future.

It was going to be a busy day judging by the seven a.m. phone call from Mr. Heidelman, a peculiar older gentleman, who had requested her services for the first time this morning. He had protested the cost at first but once past that hurdle had complained because she couldn't get there fast enough. Because he was a new customer who happened to live in a large senior development, she had rearranged her schedule to accommodate him and was scheduled to arrive shortly after noon. That was the ultimate beauty of having her own business, the flexibility to do what she wanted, when she wanted.

Threading her way through the usual early traffic, Isabelle went to her morning appointments, doing laundry for Mrs. Slathe, running Mr. Doldre to the grocery store and picking up prescriptions for several others.

When she finally arrived at Mr. Heidelman's modest brick house, it was well past noon and she was starved. He lived in a standard senior development with small cottages, duplexes and larger free standing homes scattered around an emerald green golf course dotted with expensive carts and rich seniors. Lots of rich seniors.

She smiled in satisfaction. This could be an extremely lucrative place of business.

She gathered her belongings and walked to the door.

She knocked and heard a gruff bellow from inside directing her to come in.

Upon entering the small foyer, she caught a whiff of spice, a hint of musk, and something else she couldn't place. She quickly brushed the uneasy sensation accompanying it aside.

"Mr. Heidelman? Hello! It's Isabelle from Senior Helpers."

"Be down in a minute," came the muffled reply from upstairs.

Isabelle looked about the entryway as she waited, noting the lack of personal effects at once. That was strange; most of the seniors she worked with always had a plethora of personal memorabilia displayed wherever there was a spare spot to put it. Curious, she peeked into what she assumed was the living room, but without any furniture, it was hard to tell.

Frowning, she cast a cautious glance at the stairs and seeing no evidence of Mr. Heidelman, treated herself to a mini-tour of the bottom floor, starting in the dining room that led into the kitchen. Sparsely furnished at best, it held a tiny mahogany table with two chairs in a nook off to one side and a utility room but not much else.

Concern for Mr. Heidelman's sterile existence puckered her brow. Clearly Mr. Heidelman needed more than just help around the house, he needed a friend.

Hello, my dear. Have you missed me?

Isabelle stiffened sure she hadn't just felt Dillon's familiar presence in her head. No, of course not. She forced her jaw to relax while simultaneously strengthening her inner resolve to forget about Dillon. It was natural for her to feel him because she'd been thinking about him this morning. He couldn't be here.

Throwing her shoulders back, she walked through the rest of the house determined to put thoughts of Dillon from her mind. After walking aimlessly down a hallway leading to an office with a desk and chair only, and through the sparse living room, Isabelle was getting anxious for Mr. Heidelman to make an appearance.

She called to him from the stairs and again received a muffled reply in response.

Her eyebrows knit in concern. Perhaps Mr. Heidelman needed help. She tentatively put a foot on the stairs, unsure if her concern overrode his right to privacy.

Oh, why can't I be here?

Isabelle stopped in her tracks, icy trickles of awareness dancing down her spine. Hearing Dillon once might be construed as her mind playing tricks on her, hearing him twice did not bode well.

Closing her eyes and drawing air deep into her lungs, she mustered all the skills she had learned to effectively block a telepathic connection. In her mind she carefully constructed thick concrete and brick walls, twisting them around and around in a maze designed to confuse any who dared enter. Once that was complete, she surrounded herself with a blinding white light for protection and sealed it tightly around her mind. Probing for outsiders, specifically Dillon, she felt nothing.

At first.

Then a wispy tendril of need began to swirl through those carefully constructed walls. It wasn't obvious. No. If it had been, she would have recognized it for what it was. Instead, she followed the trail of warmth it was marking through her mind, unaware of the lurking danger it posed.

Yearning so deep it pulled the air from her lungs enveloped her from inside out and Isabelle was left without any doubt as to who was responsible.

Dillon was here.

**********

Dillon calmly walked down the back stairs into the kitchen and smiled at the silly mind games Isabelle was trying to play. It was pointless, but he admitted to a certain level of satisfaction at seeing her going through the same mental machinations he had when he discovered their shared ability. Sensing her walls weakening, he infused his next thought with a meaning she couldn't ignore and was rewarded with a sharp gasp from the other room.

She had learned too quickly to shield her mind from him. He didn't like it, but he wasn't worried. He knew he could access all of her thoughts if he chose; it just took a little extra effort when she blocked him. He was content to let her believe she could have her own private thoughts and make her own choices. For now. Besides, it was cute the way she thought she had a choice.

He hummed a tune while he prepared sandwiches. Slathering mayonnaise and mustard on the bread, he wondered how long it would take her to realize he was here. He knew from past experience Isabelle had little patience. He added the lunchmeat and cheese and wasn't surprised when he heard the tell-tale creak of the kitchen door opening. He turned away to hide his smile.

Isabelle walked into the kitchen and Lord Help him; all thoughts of food left his mind and were immediately replaced with thoughts of eating her on the counter instead.

Isabelle smiled up at him in acknowledgment of his last thought and snitched a piece of cheese out of his hand, never once giving away her astonishment at seeing him again. Although judging by the clamor of thoughts in her head, she was extremely surprised. Shocked even, but not displeased, he noted.

**********

Isabelle chewed slowly, giving herself some time to regain her composure before turning her attention to the kitchen. It was a standard issue kitchen, decent cupboards, beige countertops and average white appliances. Her perusal included Dillon assembling sandwiches on the beige island in the middle of the room.

"So this is your place, Mr. Heidelman?" She asked, smirking. She refused to let him see how his presence was affecting her.

She flicked her eyes over him briefly, taking in his lean, muscled form draped in faded jeans and a t-shirt. He looked tired, the faint lines at the corners of his eyes more prominent than she remembered. Hmm, maybe the situation had affected him more than she thought. His ridiculously soft lips were quirked in a half-smile and his eyes, God, his eyes, thundercloud gray and piercing, were exactly as she remembered.

"Yes, I bought it to fix up and sell," he answered, his eyes roaming over her in their usual proprietal way.

"Ok." Isabelle crossed her arms over her chest, feeling vaguely unsettled. She had shared so much with Dillon, she knew he did things to her heart and mind that were beyond her control, but she didn't even know if he liked mustard on his sandwiches or not. It was not a comforting thought.

"I do."

She looked at him blankly.

"Like mustard," he added helpfully.

She shot him a poisonous look, but he remained blissfully unaware of her displeasure.

"Fine, big shot. In the future please refrain from reading my mind." She resisted the urge to put her hands on her hips.

He smiled down at her and her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were warm and smiling; his thoughts were not, in fact, they were downright steamy.

One image in particular caught her attention. A lone ice cube teased her clit while his warm tongue swirled between her folds. She looked away before she threw open the freezer door and got the ice cubes for him.

"That includes sending me your thoughts as well," she added primly.

He only grinned and went back to the sandwiches. He placed them on a plate, grabbed a bag of chips and a bunch of grapes and carried them to the table. He came back for a couple of water bottles and napkins. Then came back one more time, grabbed her by the hand and half-walked, half-dragged her to the table.

"Come have something to eat, you haven't eaten in a while. Some food will do you good."

"And you would know that how?" she asked.

Dillon raised an eyebrow at her.

"Okay, fine, but I'd like to wash up first."

"Of course."

Isabelle narrowed her eyes at him before walking out of the dining room. She was halfway up the stairs before she remembered that she had no clue where the bathroom was. She turned around to go back and ask when he yelled out.

"Second door on the right."

Right, of course, she forgot the amazing mind reader was downstairs invading her every thought.

"I heard that, too."

Isabelle rolled her eyes before continuing up the stairs. She found the bathroom and washed before returning to the dining table.

Dillon hadn't touched his food while she was gone.

"What's up?" she asked slipping into the chair opposite him at the small table.

Instead of replying, he reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. The gesture was unexpectedly tender and caught her off guard.

It was one thing to think she knew her lover's thoughts and emotions; it was entirely different seeing that tenderness reflected in his eyes and in his touch. Isabelle had trouble swallowing past the lump in her throat and instead concentrated on the food he had spread out on the table. She helped herself to a sandwich and some grapes.

Dillon shook his head, presumably to clear it and piled two sandwiches, a handful of chips and grapes on his plate. They ate in companionable silence; each lost in their own thoughts and yet inexplicably linked. She would reach for a chip and before her hand would reach the pile, Dillon would hand her one. It was a slightly unnerving, if efficient system.

"This is strange. I'm used to having conversations with people, not sitting in total silence while we transmit thoughts via our minds," she fussed with the napkin on her lap while she waited for his reaction.

"It is a little awkward right now, I'll grant you that. I understand you're uncomfortable with our abilities. It's weird for me, too, but we're going to have to find a way to deal with it. Like it or not, it's here to stay."

"I don't like it."

Dillon chuckled in agreement.

"I'm not an expert on the paranormal but it seems we share some form of mental telepathy. Judging by what I've learned from my research, our link is unusually strong." He shrugged apologetically while his lips curved in amusement.

"Your research?" she raised a brow in his direction.

"Yes, my research," he answered before taking another bite of his sandwich.

She played with the crusts of her sandwich, but felt his eyes following the movements of her fingers.

"What exactly did your research entail?"

He didn't look surprised she had asked.

"Well, there's the internet, obviously, and books from the library. And my own personal experiments, which are, by far, my favorite form of research." He leered at her.

"Yeah, I know you like to play with my mind. Don't worry, I totally know that." She rolled her eyes.

"I love playing with your body; your mind on the other hand, is an endless labyrinth that I will never tire of trying to solve." He winked at her.

She ignored him.

"What makes you think our link is stronger than most?"

He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before answering.




Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 06



"Most of the articles and studies showed moderate to excellent telepathy skills for those who participated; however, even at their best communication was often limited to certain areas. Some could only hear thoughts, some could see images, and some could feel emotions, but most could not do both. Or they had other paranormal skills that didn't necessarily bring them to a point where true communication was achieved. There are a few exceptions like us."

Huh. It sounded as if he really had researched the subject. And if he was right in his interpretations, then what did that mean?

"If I'm right? Dear, dear, Isabelle, I am rarely wrong."

Isabelle snorted in reply, annoyed at his cheerful invasion of her every thought.

Dillon reached out and slipped a finger under her chin, forcing her to meet his probing gaze.

"Tell me now if you want to leave this alone and I will. I have no desire to cause pain or distress in your life and marriage but I felt I had no other choice but to see what is between us. If I am wrong in that, I apologize."

Isabelle's chest tightened at the thought of him walking away from her. She'd had six months without him, six months to decide if what she felt was real. No, she definitely didn't want him to walk away. She swallowed before answering, giving herself time to compose her answer.

"Dillon, I don't know what to say. Even though we've only known each other a short time, I can't walk away either. There are things we have to consider though. I'm in the middle of a divorce and my children can't stand me, those are the biggest hurdles obviously. Until I have that figured out I'm going to be in limbo for some time."

"I know. I'll wait."

Isabelle opened her mouth to respond then closed it when she realized no response was necessary. He wasn't asking for her permission. He was stating a fact. Before she could digest what it meant, he continued.

"I think we both know I've exercised great patience and restraint in the last six months," he leaned towards her and placed a finger on her lips, "that stops now. Despite the serious issues we need to deal with, I intend to enjoy every stolen moment I have with you. Peel me a grape, Isabelle."

"Excuse me?" Isabelle cocked her head at him.

"Peel a grape for me, Sweet Pussy. I did hire you after all."

Dillon's words were casually spoken. The heat behind them was anything but.

Flustered, she reached for the cool and shiny grapes before realizing what she was doing. It was simply inconceivable she was sitting here with Dillon casually discussing grapes, as if no time had passed and it was an ordinary day. Why on earth would he want her to peel a grape?

Puzzled, she removed her fingers and gazed at him in askance. Then his words penetrated her brain and she bristled.

"Excuse me, you hired me? I think not. Mr. Heidelman hired me and since I've yet to meet him, I'm officially off the clock." Satisfied with her logical answer, Isabelle sat back in her chair, arms folded across her breasts.

Dillon's smile never changed, but the answering challenge in his eyes set warning signals off in her brain.

Is that so?

Startled by his quick and easy entrance into her mind, Isabelle scowled at him before answering.

"Yes, and please stop that."

Stop what? Stop thinking about my hands all over your body? Stop thinking about your warm sweet mouth wrapped around my cock? Stop thinking about your dripping pussy nestled against my face? No, I don't think that's possible.

Isabelle ground her teeth together to stem the tide of images his thoughts provoked, but it did little good. Her traitorous mind was allowing him to lead her there like a lamb to the slaughter. An apt analogy, slaughter, for as surely as she knew her own name she knew Dillon would tear down any defenses she had, starting with her tender skin, and reaching deep into her beating bloody heart.

Cocking an eyebrow at her, Dillon reached for the grapes. Sinuously sliding a finger over her hand he reached past her and snagged a bunch of plump grapes.

"Since you are being completely unreasonable, I will peel my own grapes. Although I feel obliged to warn you, disobeying me has consequences, Isabelle."

Seemingly unperturbed by her answering frown, Dillon's long fingers diligently worked to remove the skin from a grape.

She watched in consternation, fully aware of Dillon's ideas of punishment. She found she wasn't completely adverse to the idea and in fact, almost looked forward to the battle of wills he would surely engage her in. And the final result of that battle.

Did you think you could lose me that easily? Did you think I would let you walk out of my life forever? You should know better, Sweet Pussy.

Isabelle worked to maintain a mask of indifference but Dillon had hit the nail on the head. She had thought he wouldn't return after she had run away six months ago. Part relieved and disappointed, she had endeavored to forget he had ever existed with little effect.

"I walked away so perhaps it was my choice."

"Fear is not a choice. I chose to let you have some time alone before approaching you because of that fear but it won't and didn't keep me away forever."

I'm not that easy to lose, Isabelle.

Isabelle refused to meet his eyes, afraid he would see the truth in hers.

"One."

Dillon's voice brought her out of her reverie. What was he up to? She probed his thoughts for clues but he was much better at concealing his thoughts than she was.

"One what?"

"One grape, my Belle." Dillon pointed down.

Confused, Isabelle glanced at the naked grape lolling on her napkin.

"Feed it to me."

Oh. He wanted her to feed him, did he? Part of her liked the idea even if she objected to his imperial commands on principle alone. Still, she was a practical woman and unwilling to fight him on something so trivial.

She looked at the grape with its cool innards laid bare and stripped of any protection. She could empathize, she felt like her insides were exposed for all to see, too. She reached for the fruit.

"No. Not like that."

"How else am I supposed to feed the grape to you?" she asked impatiently, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

He waved a hand in the air dismissing her question with a flick of his wrist.

Isabelle's hands curled into fists. Dillon was acting very strangely and she didn't like the way he slipped in and out of her mind. It was rude.

"Rude, eh?"

"Yes, rude so stop it," Isabelle seethed. The man was shameless.

Only shameless when it comes to taking what I need, love. And make no mistake I will be taking what I need, over and over until I'm satisfied. Unfortunately for you, I am very hard to please.

Vivid pictures flashed through her mind, fevered hands cupping her mound, Dillon's long tongue lapping at her swollen lips, sucking and pulling her into the swirling vortex of his mouth. She swayed in her seat as heat flushed through her tingling nerves.

It was only the appearance of Dillon's outstretched hand, a grape balanced on his fingertips that brought her focus back. He held it with such graceful ease, his long fingers extended towards her.

"One, Isabelle."

Confused, she frowned at him, not understanding his intent.

"I want you to keep it warm."

Isabelle reached for the grape before understanding kicked in and once it did, her hand hung there awkwardly in the interim.

Oh. A single flash, a sudden vision of where he wanted the grape and Isabelle felt her cheeks heat. She couldn't though. No way. She must have misunderstood. Besides, was that even safe?

You can and you will. Don't you think I deserve to have grapes soaked in your juice, for no juice is sweeter than yours? I will personally ensure every grape is retrieved, of that you may be sure.

Isabelle gaped at him, unable, even in her most intimate fantasies to go where he wanted her to go. She was so not that woman. And yet...no.

Dillon just stared at her, silently imposing his will and waiting with an anticipatory gleam in his eyes.

Isabelle you are that woman. My woman.

His simple communication had the air from her lungs whooshing out in shaky acknowledgment.

Dillon placed his hands on her tightly clasped knees and with little effort pushed her legs apart.

She sat motionless, her legs opening to accommodate Dillon despite her reservations. She trusted him. It was that simple. If he said she was that woman, then she was. If he said she was beautiful, she was. If he said they could fly to the moon, she believed him.

She was so fucked.

So it was in that frame of mind, detached and floating from reality, she watched as Dillon very cleverly snuck the grape past her panties and up between her lips. He paused when the cool flesh of the grape came into contact with her much warmer flesh and became too much for her to bear silently and continued when, after a few shaky breaths, she was able to regain her composure. Not that he cared if she was composed, he didn't. The messier she was the better as far as Dillon was concerned. He was obsessed with breaking her composure.

No I'm obsessed with you, Sweet Pussy. Obsessed with breaking your will and bending it to mine. Obsessed with a violent need to make you mine and to break down all of those neat little barriers you use to keep me away.

He rolled the grape back and forth at her opening to prove his point, the restriction of her panties only increasing the pressure. Against her will, she opened for him, willing him to push the grape inside. The erotic image lingering in her mind threatened her rational side and left her wanting to be the supremely carnal woman he saw in his minds eye. She desperately needed to be that woman.

With insight so excruciatingly clear it hurt, she realized life was too short to waste on proper behavior. With the right man, nothing was off the table. Anything and everything was erotic and she found the grape threatening her existence with its textured surface intensely erotic.

She held her breath, anticipating its foreign touch when the grape breached her opening and slid into her. Emotions and sensations she couldn't name soared through her as he slowly but deliberately pushed the grape deeper.

One.

Why do you keep counting?

She fired off the question, too connected with him to realize she hadn't spoken aloud.

A soft chuckle was the only verbal response she received.

Because my dear, I need to keep track of how many grapes you hold onto for me. So when I'm sucking them out of your pussy one by one, I won't forget how many there are. Can't leave you with fruit ripening in your womb, now can I?

Isabelle forgot to breathe as she digested his words. His mouth pulling grapes from her swollen pussy dominated her thoughts and she tightened in response, inadvertently pulling the grape in farther.

Oh yes, My Sweet.

Dillon pulled away, removing his hand to stare into her eyes.

Mesmerized, Isabelle was unable to look away. There was lust in his eyes, of course, but so much more. Staring into his liquid gray eyes, his soul open before her, his need on naked display, she was lost, no, she was changed forever. Devastatingly, irrevocably changed.

She saw the recognition in his eyes as he acknowledged their shared fate.

Never one to give in to fate quite so willingly, Isabelle sought to hold onto her remaining shred of independence, but with a decisive quirk of Dillon's mouth, her fate was sealed.

Don't forget to count.

Isabelle blinked in response and looked down at the bunch of grapes in Dillon's hand. The ones he was trying to give to her.

Start peeling, I'm running out of patience.

She snorted inwardly, as if he had ever possessed a shred of patience when it came to getting what he wanted.

Don't push it or you will find out exactly how little patience I have.

Isabelle didn't respond and instead reached for the grapes. If he didn't want to wait, he really shouldn't have chosen a fruit so damned difficult to peel she silently fumed as her fingers feverishly worked the skin from several plump grapes.

She regretted her thoughts almost immediately as various images of more exotic fruits and vegetables flashed through her brain, leaving her no doubt that he could have chosen much, much differently.

Within minutes she had peeled a small pile of oddly shaped pulpy fruit, the lumpy pockets of flesh alien in their appearance.

"Stand up."

The harsh rasp erupting from Dillon sounded nothing like the cultured and composed voice he normally spoke with and her body responded accordingly, nipples stiffening while the invisible rope directly attached to her womb twisted even tighter. Breathing was optional and it took a few seconds for air to wheeze into her lungs and a few more for it to stutter out.

She stood, scant inches away from Dillon as he tried with his eyes to penetrate her soul.

Without taking his gaze from her face, he reached for her and managed to hook her panties with his thumbs and negligently whisk them down her thighs until they puddled around her ankles. A quick yank and she was standing between his legs, naked except for her bra underneath her light cotton dress.

Panic set in as elegant fingers scooped up an undetermined amount of grapes and she realized she had forgotten to count how many she had peeled. She must have made a sound of distress that alerted Dillon and within seconds, she knew he was counting for the both of them.

The lone grape felt strange as she stood, setting off an involuntary chain reaction. She squeezed to keep it in place and in effect pulled it higher which set off another quickening in her womb. The mere thought of the battle he would wage to retrieve it made her feel faint. She clasped Dillon's shoulders to steady herself before the twisting, churning fireworks going off in her became too much.

His amusement at her distress was evident only to someone who knew him. No flashy grins or loud guffaws would do, the only acknowledgement he allowed was the sardonic twist of his lips. She was determined to see him full on smile at some point.

Determination was soon forgotten as he probed her lips for an opening, a few grapes nestled in his fingers. Their slippery cool surface was a shock against her warmth. Instead of soothing her inflamed skin, it only served to remind her of the heat surging through her limbs, especially when he rolled the pebbled fruit over her lips, driving them in circles towards her clit.

He slipped two between her folds and nestled them at her opening before easing them inside with a soft pop.

Three.

Seemingly unaffected, he returned to rotating the rest of the spheres over her mound and over the delicate skin connecting her thighs and pussy. Up and down the remaining grapes went in some twisted version of a massage while she struggled to maintain the last vestiges of her control.

Dillon rolled a grape up her folds towards her clit, stopping only when the grape bumped the small protrusion.

Oops. Too far.

Not far enough was Isabelle's answering thought, involuntarily scooting forward as he moved his hand away. The grape he had so innocently placed at the ridge of her clit throbbed to the same beat echoing inside her and she was desperate to feel it grazing her again.

He, of course, ignored her desperation for his own diabolical desires and moved the grape away from her grasping hips and back to her opening. Holding one firmly between thumb and forefinger, he pushed it past the barrier of her lips until it joined its cousins.

Four.

Tightening almost painfully around the fruit, Isabelle watched as Dillon's mouth hovered near her mound, his warm breath tantalizingly close. A quick lift of her hips and she could meet his lips in an intimate kiss, a wet, heat-filled kiss that would go a long way towards soothing the ache at her center. One glance at his determined features quickly told her he knew her thoughts and would do everything in his power to hold her at bay, to bend her to his will as he had stated earlier. The bastard.

Tsk, Tsk, why so combative, my love?

Shut up.

He chuckled, the sound filling her senses like no other. Dillon at his most intense and passionate was something to behold. Dillon with a smile on his lips was devastating and he knew it judging by the condescending smirk that followed her thoughts.

The damp surface of another grape pressing against her overheated nether regions distracted her from chastising him for his conceit. The distinctive pop of it moving past her opening to snuggle in her passage stopped common sense from further daring to intrude.

Five.

Isabelle struggled to catch her breath. This was obscene, unheard of. And she was dripping past the grapes, her body proving she thought otherwise. It was a battle she wasn't comfortable losing, but then again, every battle with Dillon was a battle she never wanted to lose. Too bad most of the time he left her feeling at a distinct disadvantage, something she had a feeling he knew all too well.

Another succulent grape skimmed her clit and she bit her lip to prevent the moan building low and deep in her throat, a moan that would have revealed her vulnerability, her need. Oh please, she thought, no more, while her mind grappled with the sensations overwhelming her normally eminently sensible thoughts.

Scared?

NO!

Liar.

Without fanfare he slid the grape into her sheath, forcing her to swallow her deceitful claim. In some recess of her mind she could admit to her fear; not of him or his games, but of her reaction. He had the ability to see everything, nothing was sacred, and he used his knowledge unashamedly.

How many grapes had she fucking peeled anyway?

Six. That's enough. For now.

What are you doing, Dillon?

Shhh, Sweet Pussy, I'm busy.

Damn you, Dillon....why?

Because I have no choice.

His last thought succeeded in quieting her rioting emotions. She had thought she was the only one to feel that way, as if all choice had been eradicated from the first moment he had entered her darkened room so many months ago. How else could she explain her reaction to what should have been a traumatic event? To what normal people would scorn her for if they knew? Fate? Mental illness? She didn't know. She only knew the compulsion to be with him was the single most compelling thing she had ever felt in her life and no amount of logic or reason could change it.

Reeling, she risked opening her eyes to see him watching her with glittering orbs that had haunted her for months now, the intensity and desire just as strong as she remembered. She could look at him forever and never tire of losing herself in his hooded gaze.

His grip tightened on her legs and she looked down to see his strong hands digging into her thighs and just like that the balance of power shifted ever so slightly.

She allowed a small smile to grace her lips, careful to turn her head so Dillon wouldn't see. It was pointless, really, he could sense her gloating but she liked playing the game with him.

Ah, so clever, Isabelle. So very clever. I wonder if that smile will remain when I hold you hostage in my mouth, your pussy desperate and quivering with need. Will you smile while you beg?

Isabelle gritted her teeth which effectively wiped the smile from her lips. She had no need to beg. Sooner or later he would give her what she wanted; it was simply a matter of patience. Yes, patience. She only needed to practice patience and Dillon would give her what she needed.

She answered him back with a toss of her head and a cocky I have no need to beg.




Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 06



A slight lift of his eyebrow was his only reaction but it was enough.

Her stomach trembled. She ignored its ominous warning.

Dillon stood and reached for her dress. With cool firm hands, he unbuttoned it, pushing it off her shoulders until she was completely exposed. With detached and efficient movements, he made quick work of her bra before sweeping the remains of their lunch off the table. He sat her down on the edge, her toes barely brushing the floor.

The hard wood at her backside was a reminder of how far she had fallen, of how far she would go to have this man. She no longer cared. If she was a slave to her desires, then so be it. If only the object of her desire would hurry the hell up.

His eyes raked over her, carnal possession in his slow heated perusal. Her body no longer belonged to her and she found she preferred it that way.

His eyes dropped to the thatch of downy hair at her center. The center he had stuffed full of grapes and was now presumably going to retrieve. Her mouth went dry and her insides clenched.

He cupped the back of her neck and held her in place until she met his gaze.

I've dreamt of you every night. Isabelle, you are everything to me. Don't ever question it again.

Isabelle stared into the fathomless depths of his eyes and felt warmth suffuse her entire being. His declaration illuminated every dark corner of her soul, a bright light of belonging on every little hurt and slight she had ever suffered, every insecure, unsure part of herself she kept hidden from others. His acceptance, nay, pride in who and what she was, was one of the reasons she loved him so. What was more seductive than a man who loved and took pride in his woman? Who celebrated everything about her and desired her body to distraction? She couldn't think of a single thing.

He moved a hand to her neck, his thumb pausing at the pulsing beat under her jaw before running over her shoulder and down her arm. Capturing her hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed her fingertips.

Isabelle fought to maintain her composure. Was Dillon being romantic? The man who demanded things from her she sometimes didn't want to give was showering sweet kisses on the tips of her fingers and she found it terribly appealing.

A shiver coursed through her, impossible to hide. As if hiding from him was even a remote possibility.

He smiled.

Smug bastard.

Leaning forward, he licked her neck before nipping at her ear.

Her fingers itched to touch his hair and she reached for him only to be firmly directed to leave her hands at the edge of the table.

Of course, he always had to have it his way.

My way, yes. I suggest you remember that.

As if I could forget...

I'll make sure you don't, my dear.

My gratitude knows no bounds.

He tweaked a nipple in response, forcing her to re-think her momentary lapse of obedience.

Seconds later, his mouth replaced his fingers and her nipple was bathed in the sweltering shower of his tongue. Rough and silken, he lapped and suckled until her nipple poked into his mouth impudently and without any of the pride beheld by its owner. Oh no, her nipple practically begged to be in his mouth, quivering and stiffening with only the slightest provocation from him.

She should have been embarrassed by her reaction to him, but she was beyond caring if it was right or wrong, if it was proper or not, being with him lifted those boundaries and freed her to act according to how she felt, not how she should feel.

He moved his head back and forth, giving equal attention to both aching and stiff peaks.

Her head dropped back, her weight shifting slightly until her body was arching away from her precarious position at the table's edge.

You're lovely like this, Isabelle. Open and mine to do with as I please.

Images flooded her mind. She could see herself in his eyes and it wasn't what she expected. Yes, she was splayed for his view, wantonly so, but it was his vision of her as the center of his soul that had her eyes drifting shut in pleasured bliss.

His thumbs brushed over her nipples and she jumped at the change in texture. He pinched and plucked until she panted in concert with each careless twist and tug.

Patience, Isabelle.

Her jaw snapped closed at the reminder of her earlier boast. She was certain he was attempting to make her pay for her perceived transgression. Well, she wasn't new to his brand of punishment. If anything she had watched and learned a few tricks of her own.

He cupped both breasts and lifted them up for his inspection before savagely twisting the tips into submission, bringing forth a whimper from the depths of her throat.

Raw need hissed through her veins, thick and all consuming when he dropped to his knees before her. Framing her lips, he watched her face while casually gathering her pussy in his relentless grip.

She was proud of her restraint. Her face didn't reveal the tumultuous storm of emotions raging inside her. But on the inside her womb quickened, her stomach fluttered, and her heart thundered like a hummingbird in flight.

With one hand on her stomach and the other on her hip, he guided her with a not-so-gentle push back onto the table, spread her thighs even wider, and fastened his mouth on her clit in a move so quick she didn't even have time to register surprise before the heat of his mouth removed all thought.

One.

Ohhh. The significance of that tiny little number hit her like a brick.

Nibbling on her lips, he worked his way to her opening, licking up the wetness gathered there in efficient brisk movements. As usual he preferred to torture her beyond comprehension.

I see you're learning.

Kiss my pussy, Dillon.

I intend to. My way.

Grrrr.

Dillon chuckled against her lips, the vibration tickling her sensitive flesh and making her squirm. For once, he didn't deny her, applying his mouth most diligently to her moist middle, a fact which didn't escape her attention even in her hazy state of mind.

Isabelle sucked in her breath and sagged against the table, her strength disappearing under the onslaught of his mouth. He bypassed her lips and forced his way into her opening, his tongue probing for the fruit hidden in her honeyed walls.

So tight, love. I might be here awhile.

Her heart raced at the implication while she clutched at his tongue with her body.

Dillon worked his way past the tightened cluster of muscles, swooping in determinedly, unmercifully.

She knew the exact instant he located a grape as his whole body went rigid between her thighs. With lips parted in fascination, she watched every excruciatingly slow movement of his mouth as he worked to pull his prize from her body.

He leaned back, the fruit cradled in his supple lips, its slick surface proof she was a slave to his desires. And her own.

So slippery, Isabelle. So fucking slippery. I had to suck and pull so hard to get it out.

Isabelle nearly choked as he put words to her own thoughts, momentarily surprised at how linked they truly were.

Hmmmmm. Yes.

It was the only coherent thought she could answer him with, she was too busy watching him savor the fruit coated in her pussy juice. He chewed it with such precision and appreciation, as if enjoying a gourmet meal one slow course after another.

Just think how many more are left....

Stars danced in her head as his intent sank in. There were no words. He was a beast to tease her and he knew it. The acknowledgment did nothing to quell the fluttering answer in her pussy.

Two.

Oh fuck. She unconsciously opened her legs wider, sacrificing herself up to his very capable mouth.

He glanced down at her offering, a sardonic twist to his lips, before he applied his fingers to parting her folds until she was fully exposed.

How does it feel to watch me loving your pussy? To see me eating grapes drenched in your arousal?

Hot, so incredibly, hot, her entire body was burning from the inside out, she wanted to answer, truly she did, but logical thoughts were battling with fiendish biological needs, the ones demanding he shut up and get back to what he was doing.

Tell me.

Marshalling her errant thoughts, Isabelle focused on answering him, no longer questioning her obedience.

Like a Goddess, worshipped and loved. And so alive. So fucking alive.

Hmm, good, love. You are worshipped and loved. By me. Always.

With that, he turned his attention to showing her, his diligent mouth bent on tasting the lips guarding her opening.

She fought to keep her eyes open so she could continue to watch him. She loved watching him. He was an animal rutting with his mate and it was glorious to behold the power he exhibited over her and over his own self-control. Glorious and frustrating.

He accidentally-on-purpose grazed her clit with his chin and she jumped. She hesitated to voice the plea echoing in her head, but she prayed he would apply his attention to the overheated and swelling button at the center of her desire.

He obliged her. Not the way she wanted, with slow lapping licks that would cool her off. Oh no. That would have been too easy, too straightforward, and wouldn't involve making her beg like a frigging lunatic. No, the diabolical son-of-a-bitch rested his chin on her pulsing flesh and simply pressed down. It was effective, she'd give him that. It stopped the incessant throbbing. Temporarily.

As soon as he lifted away from her though the blood rushed back into her nether regions at an alarming rate and she soon realized the pulsing wasn't as strong as before.

It was much, much stronger.

His attention wandered back to his objective and he left her erratically pulsing clit to move back to her opening. He licked softly.

She tensed.

He nipped softly at her lips.

The small pool of liquid beneath her grew.

Isabelle moaned, the fever burning through her veins leaving her so senseless she begged.

Hurry, oh please, hurry.

Dillon laughed. The sound of his amusement was almost worth the price of submitting to him, of admitting to her weakness and need. Almost.

He slid a long agile finger deep into her sheath.

She cried out, hips rising and falling around him. It was worth every single second.

Oh what a sweet pussy you have for me. So tight. I'm going to have to really dig around, you're squeezing so hard and they're so high up....

He pushed until he could go no further.

Panting, Isabelle felt every ripple, every ridge of his finger, every flex of his knuckle, it all registered in glorious waves until her entire being centered on those pulses like they were her last lifeline. And perhaps they were.

Swirling his talented finger upwards and around her sensitized walls, he located a second grape, but made no move to retrieve it. He was too focused on tormenting every patch of flesh he could find.

He was good, she'd give him that. But then, she'd already known that. What she hadn't known was how many areas of her body could be used against her. How many places he touched that suddenly felt an overwhelming need for more, and how many areas brought such incredible joy and pain. Mostly sweet, yearning, breathless joy; pain when that joy turned into acute, aching need essential to her very being.

Like when he bumped her cervix and her entire body curled up, the thought of him so deep he butted against her womb turning her into a frenzied animal no longer able to contain her rutting instincts.

Yes, give it to me, my sweet.

For once, she obeyed without question, too far gone to rebel, her desire overwhelming her need to remain independent.

She offered her pussy up to his mouth, like a lavish banquet spread out for a king. And like a royal, he didn't hesitate to partake of the feast set before him, taking bites out of her succulent lips, drinking deeply of the wetness pooling at her center, and tasting every inch of skin she displayed for him.

Isabelle couldn't bring herself to look away from the sight of him kneeling at her core and loving her the way only he could, dominantly, sweetly, and with such skilled mastery over her body, her breath caught and held.

He withdrew his finger, his hot tongue spearing her in its stead in a never-ending search for the elusive grapes.

Her hips rose off the table and arched towards his mouth, silently begging him with her mind. The torment was almost too much but she never wanted it to end.

He flicked at her walls leisurely in response and she knew he would never cede to her wishes, unless they were in direct correlation with his.

You're learning.

Shut up, Dillon and get back to work.

He chuckled at her entrance and she felt it thrum through every molecule of her being.

He withdrew his tongue and applied his lips to her center, sucking at her until a lone grape broke free with a little pop and landed in his mouth.

He smiled and resumed his gentle lapping, tucking the grape into his cheek she presumed.

Her insides were burning up and all Dillon cared about was making sure she submitted to him. But she had, multiple times. What would it take for him to submit to her?

He didn't answer the question posed in her mind. Instead, he stood and picked her up.

Momentarily shocked out of her delirious state, Isabelle squealed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He strode from the room and up the stairs to what was obviously the master bedroom, with floor length windows on three sides framed by brown silky drapes, a comfortable sitting area, and well polished oak dressers and night tables. It also had a matching bed that dominated the room with its sheer size.

He gently deposited her to her feet and pushed her against the nearest wall. His mouth claimed hers while his hands sought hers out. He clasped them together and brought them against the wall, trapping her between their intertwined fingers.

Hungrily he nibbled at her lips, coaxing her to open for him. Isabelle let herself be swept away by the intensity of emotion conveyed in his kiss. His soul reached out to hers and there were no more thoughts, just love and sweet, wet kisses.

Without warning, he released her hands and moved his over her body.

Mine.

She attempted to answer him, but her senses were coming alive with the feel of his powerful hands stroking her sides, cupping her breasts, and slipping over her buttocks. She couldn't feel him in her mind the way she had earlier and she briefly wondered what he knew about their abilities and whether it had included a lesson on blocking thoughts.

Rough hands skimmed her thighs with warm palms and probing fingers and she let her suspicions slip away like a child's lost balloon, drifting out of reach as she succumbed to his seductive mouth.

He broke away from her and used his body to urge her back against the wall. She allowed it, waiting in breathless anticipation for his touch.

Only he didn't touch her. He hovered, his mouth a scant centimeter from hers. He was close enough for her to feel the warmth from his body penetrating hers. But he did not touch her.

Isabelle could feel the heat of his breath wash over her, making her crazy with need. She leaned forward.

Never one to give in too quickly, he moved back and watched her with lazy eyes. Without uttering a word, either out loud or in her head, she read his desire, his need, and his love in his eyes. Something else slightly sinister in form occupied those thoughts and yet she wasn't afraid. Judging from the frown her thoughts caused him, maybe she should be.

Dillon reached out and cupped her pussy, claiming her in one possessive clutch. Her lips parted for him immediately, as if silently acknowledging his ownership.

She worked to breathe air into her lungs but lost the battle as warm fingers slid between her folds. He toyed with her, slipping a finger between her lips to graze her clit ever so lightly, enough to tease but not enough to satisfy her urgent cravings.

Her hips tilted upwards, eager for his touch.

She held back her moan of frustration simply because there was no point in releasing it. Dillon did not care if she was frustrated or boiling over with lust. He had his own agenda, always his own motives that drove him to torture her in any way he chose. It was who he was. It was who she had fallen in love with. The strong man who only strove to please her and bring her out of herself in ways she had never dreamed of, who was somehow able to reach into her soul and lay bare her desires. And the man who then did all he could to fulfill those desires.

She raised her head to watch him and found his eyes focused with laser-like precision on her mouth. Involuntarily she pursed her lips, anticipating his mouth on hers. As he leaned in closer, her breathing slowed and she waited for his kiss, his branding. It never came.

"Do you want me to kiss you, Isabelle?" he whispered hoarsely as he lingered near her mouth.

She nodded in response, unable to voice the words necessary.

"Not good enough, my Belle. Tell me."

Isabelle raised her eyes to his before answering.

"Kiss me, Dillon," she begged hoarsely.

"What are you going to do for me if I give you what you want?"

She felt her mouth open in shock. What game was he playing now?

"What do you want?"

He smiled.

"Everything," he said simply, "starting with those luscious grapes."

Isabelle couldn't form a reply as she was unceremoniously picked up and dumped on the bed in an ungraceful heap. She swallowed the curse that sprang to her lips as she scrambled into a less awkward position.

Dillon casually circled the bed, eyeing her with a predatory gleam in his eyes. She reached out with her mind and tried to figure out what he was planning but his thoughts remained a blank. Oh, she still felt his love and his need for her, just no specific images or words.

Frustrated and worried about his control over her in every situation, Isabelle squirmed under his gaze. She was powerless to do anything about it. Dillon always seemed to have the upper hand and had no qualms about using his power either. She eyed him to gauge his response to that but he only paced grimly around her, devouring her flesh with the heat of his gaze.

A twisted smile framed his lips and she knew then he had decided on his plan of attack.

Dillon?

She probed delicately, afraid to look and yet unable to stop herself from trying. The strange tingling she had felt earlier began to invade her limbs, the molten heat pooling at her center.

It was useless, he was closed to her. The only way she had of reading him was body language and all his lean body was communicating was danger, not lovemaking, although there was some element of that in his stance. Overall, she sensed his desire to brand her, to use her in ways she had never been before and it sent chills racing over her arms.

He gazed at her with his half mast eyes and smiled. His smile was not the smile of a lover. No, it was the smile of a conqueror, of a warrior swooping in to claim his prize after a hard fought battle. No tenderness or care was evident in that smile. It was a smile that would have scared even the most battle hardened soldier. She was no soldier but nonetheless squared her shoulders and defiantly raised her chin to meet his eyes.

His smile widened and her gaze faltered briefly, too afraid of what that widening smile meant.

Tonight I will claim you as my own... show me.

Isabelle watched his eyes as the thought entered her mind of exactly how he wanted her to show him. She had every intention of obeying his command, for make no mistake, that's what it was, but she wanted to see his intentions in his eyes.




Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 06



He lowered his eyes to her breasts and waited, not giving her the chance to read him.

Her nipples tingled where his gaze lingered and she traced an invisible line down her body where his eyes marked her flesh, ending at her pubic mound. Engorged, she felt the heat flickering through her, tiny flames that scorched her skin and left a trail of devastating need in its path.

Isabelle gave up all pretenses and moved to her knees on the bed, altogether too eager for his lovemaking. She positioned her rear in front of him and arched her back, knowing he could see how swollen her pussy lips were and the dampness seeping out.

A stinging slap reined down on her bottom. Instantly her body clenched in relentless desire, her flesh tightening with urgent demands for more. Her mind screamed for more but she knew Dillon would ignore her needs as surely as he was ignoring his own.

She stayed in position, waiting for another slap on her bottom, waiting for a slap that never came. She glanced back at him to ascertain his next move and found him gazing at her damp pussy lips with a dazed look in his eyes.

Now, Dillon, please.

Moving as if in a trance, Dillon lowered himself to his knees behind her. Strong, warm hands gripped her buttocks, lifting and molding the rounded cheeks.

A strangled moan escaped even while her bottom jutted out to meet his probing hands.

Lips so soft, so warm, so foreign and yet so familiar met her weeping pussy lips with a ferocious hunger, sucking and biting her opening in an attempt to retrieve the grapes nestled inside. She blossomed for him like a flower budding for the first time, slowly and tentatively at first, then once the glory of the sun was felt, spreading her petals wide.

Three.

His clever mouth was going hunting again. Oh fuck, she didn't know how much she could take. A long finger joined in his quest, delving and scooping in and out of her already liquid center. A knuckle brushed her walls and her body formed a tight fist around his finger and the remaining grapes, making it necessary for him to push further into her warm channel to reach his goal.

Deeper he went, casually searching for the lost fruit as if he had all the time in the world to complete his task.

Arching back towards him, she experimentally circled her hips, a belated effort to help him reach his goal.

He pulled away, his finger slipping out of her despite her low moan of protestation. Dazed lust quickly turned into desperation as his mouth resumed its quest, his tongue warm, wet, and probing as it slid into the spot vacated by his finger.

She knew the exact moment he seized upon his goal, a surge of his mouth against her lips, a deep flick of his tongue as he curled around his prize and a vague sense of male satisfaction that pervaded her mind as her body pulsed for him.

Isabelle remained in place, mesmerized by his complete command of her senses. She wanted to feed him grapes with her body all the time. She wanted his mouth locked onto her mound at every opportunity and she desperately wanted to cover his sweet tormenting tongue with her juices and then kiss him while his lips tasted of grapes and pussy. Her pussy.

Isabelle reeled at her thoughts. Desire for Dillon had warped her beyond redemption. As long as Dillon never stopped what he was doing, she figured she could live with it.

Four.

Please....

In time, my love.

She waited, his words running over her like a lovers' hands, wicked, tantalizing, and oh so clever in their knowledge of her needs.

He worked at dislodging another grape, pulling and sucking on her insides until one slipped down her passage walls, his tongue expertly guiding it to his waiting mouth. It was the sounds that proved to be her ultimate undoing, the soft release of her lips as the grape slipped out to plop wetly in his mouth, his wicked mouth closing over it and savoring her flavor mixed with the sticky sweetness of the fruit, the rush of her breath as it left her lungs, his soft growl of contentment. It was all so indescribably erotic her insides clutched repeatedly while her legs shook and her head thrashed from side to side, moans of pleasure rolling off her lips.

Delving back in, he licked her walls, reaching deep for the remaining fruit held tightly in her sticky grasp.

Five.

Dillon, I can't wait...

You will wait.

Biting her lip, Isabelle closed her eyes as sensation after sensation crashed through her system. Every sweep of his tongue set off a maelstrom of shock waves. Every time he languidly chewed the fruit soaked by her desire, her level of tension grew to unbearable proportions. His brutal splaying of her pussy lips should have slowed her arousal, instead she found herself wanting to be spread even wider, to give him anything he wanted and the access he needed. Anything to get him to finish what he started and give her what she needed.

He retrieved number five with the skill she had always associated with him, plucking it from her body and leaving an unbearable ache in its absence.

Her eyes flew open as Dillon took possession of her hips and flipped her over. His hard body shifted to cover hers, his cock angling into the soft notch between her thighs, eliciting a tortured moan from her and a tight scowl from him.

She took in his granite hard mouth, full lips set into a stern frown of concentration, his chiseled cheekbones showing the strain he was under, and his eyes burning with need. For her.

Leaning down, he nibbled at her mouth until she opened for him. He dropped a grape onto her waiting tongue and watched for her reaction.

Knowing he was waiting, she managed to cover her surprise and slowly chewed the grape soaked in her juices.

Her nostrils flared as the grape exploded on her tongue, salty sweet and reeking of their mingled flavors. The force of their passion took her to another place; a place where rules didn't apply and where nothing was sacred, where Dillon would take her on sensual journeys beyond her wildest expectations, if she'd only let him.

He nodded in approval, her thoughts pleasing him, satisfying the possessive male inside demanding her acquiescence.

Dillon lowered his head and claimed her mouth. This was no soft kiss of love. No, this was a kiss of possession, of greed, gluttony, and ownership. A kiss she returned with equal fervor, their mouths fused together as their bodies strained closer.

He pulled away after a few minutes, his breathing labored and eyes storm cloud grey with emotion.

He abruptly sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, pulling her astride him, her back to his front, in one smooth move. He covered her breasts with his hands and raised her nipples up ruthlessly, fingertips flicking over the turgid peaks until they were stiff and upright.

Arching in anguish, Isabelle felt his throbbing cock at her backside and stilled at the exquisite torture, to be so close and not get what she wanted was a lesson in patience she never wanted to learn.

Dillon leaned closer, the molten muscles of his chest against her back, and whispered in her ear.

"This is my sweet pussy, Isabelle. Your pussy knows its rightful owner. Look at how it responds to my cock. So wet, so tight, and all mine. But that's not all I'm going to claim. I'm going to fill you and you're going to take every fucking single inch. And you will love it and beg for more."

She opened her mouth to reply but it was pointless. He wasn't paying attention. His hands were claiming every inch of her body, cupping her breasts before moving down the length of her body and ending at her hips.

He gripped her and pulled her hard against him. His cock lodged in the cleft of her buttocks, shocking her with his angry arousal.

She wiggled her hips, anxious to feel his hot length scraping her skin before he stopped her with a single word.

Six.

Ohhh. Yes. The last grape held snuggly in her walls. Number six. Such an innocent number, such an innocuous label for the most erotic experience of her life.

She idly wondered how he planned to retrieve it. He wasn't exactly in the best position to do so.

"You're so transparent, Isabelle."

Dillon's amusement echoed wickedly in her ear.

He nibbled a path down the smooth column of her neck, sending shivers of delight dancing down her spine. His hands remained occupied with rolling the pebbled tips of her nipples between his unforgiving fingers and owning their taut weight in his palms.

Wrapping a hand in a tight fistful of hair, Dillon pulled her closer, "I love how you think, how your body responds to my touch, how you make me feel. You were made for me, Sweet Pussy."

Isabelle groaned, low and deep in her throat and pushed back, eager to be closer to her him, to feel his chiseled body against hers, to have his length pushing deep.

"Now, I better get that grape."

Her entire body tensed in curious anticipation.

Releasing his hold on her hair, Dillon's hands resumed their possessive trail over her skin, his fingertips like branding irons, marking her as they went, scalding her in spots where he lingered a little too long. Like her belly button, where he traced the smooth outline before exploring the soft hollow. Or the inside of her thigh where he drew ever maddening circles that grew close to her center but never close enough. And the heated cupping of her bottom splayed over his lap for his pleasure.

Isabelle was sure she was going to go mad waiting for Dillon. She wasn't entirely sure she wasn't there already. Her entire world had narrowed to this one moment and she felt as if she would surely perish if the fire burning inside of her wasn't doused soon.

Please, Dillon. Please.

Isabelle begged. There was no other word for it. This was no gentle giving of her body or willing surrender, no, it was a plea borne out of desperation, out of a desire she had no control over, out of a fiercely devilish compulsion to submit to him and by extension, herself.

Smug male satisfaction rolled over her in waves. She prayed it was enough.

Nerves already frayed past the breaking point jumped as Dillon's teeth sank into the soft skin at her nape. His hands probed her entrance, impatiently pushing her lips aside as if they were responsible for his dalliance.

Long, questing fingers slid into her opening, four of them spearing her, invading, and delving into her channel mercilessly.

Isabelle cried out and clamped down hungrily. He violated and took with little thought given to her needs so focused was he on pursuing his quarry.

She endured his endless forays into the recesses of her body, biting her lip at the incessant grazing of her sensitive flesh, her mind anxiously seeking a toe hold into his thoughts.

He provided none, simply continued to stroke and search, purposely missing the grape on more than one occasion.

Isabelle recovered enough to look down. The dampness seeping out of her covered him to his wrists and wet her thighs while he pierced her over and over again with practiced casualty.

His mouth worked a path between her neck and shoulder, kissing, nipping, and when she didn't respond the way he liked, landing a sharp bite. She knew it was a matter of seconds before she lost all semblance of control.

Mmmm, yes, Isabelle.

Dillon....oh, Dillon.

Watch.

Isabelle obeyed, never once questioning his motives. She watched the mesmerizing glide of his hand as they surged upward and into the deepest crevices of her womb, the excruciating downward slide to her opening where he would hover for a beat too long before again riding upward in a violent claiming of her sheath. It was unbearable to see and impossible to look away.

He taunted her senses until she could take no more, until her walls screamed in protest, until her entire body surrendered with soul-stealing, tempestuous submission. To him.

Mouth open in a silent cry of abandonment, Isabelle gripped Dillon's hands as she spilled out for him, her body moving on its own volition, up and down, up and down until she could take no more.

His harsh groan and the tensing of his hands inside her were his only acknowledgment.

She slowed her movements as her fluttering insides calmed, the utter despair of earlier dissipating, allowing her a moment to regain her wits. What was left of them.

Dillon removed his hands, but surprised her when he held a perfectly naked grape up to the light before popping it into his mouth.

"You taste so sweet, Love."

Her insides squeezed.

The insistent flesh of his cock attempting to push between her legs diverted her attention from thoughts of him slurping down a grape soaked in her juices.

Can't let my fingers have all the fun. Open that pussy for me, my Belle. I need to fuck you. It wasn't enough to have my hands in you. It wasn't enough to have you coating my hands in your cum. It will never be enough. Open for me.

Without a second of hesitation, she widened her legs and positioned her slit above his bulging cockhead.

Dillon wasted no time surging upwards with his rigid length until he filled every corner and crevice.

With one hand guiding her hip and one hand tangled in her hair, Dillon drove into her, his thrusts measured while his ragged breathing was anything but.

Isabelle gave into the crowd of sensations buffering her from every direction; the excruciating push of his cock stuffing her pussy full, the ruthless grip on her hip guiding her, the tightening hold on her hair driving her to the brink of madness. They refused to be ignored, each one battling for her attention until her focus narrowed to one thing and one thing only, Dillon's pleasure. It was suddenly as necessary to her as the very air she breathed.

Not content to let Dillon run the show, Isabelle took control of the tempo, rising and falling as she saw fit, circling her hips around and around on his cock until they both moaned in surrender.

It wasn't enough to merely ride him; she wanted to possess him as he possessed her. It may have been sick, it may have been delusional to want him to surrender to her that way, but she didn't care. He demanded her submission, now she was demanding his.

She flexed forward, experimenting with the way he moved with her, waiting to see if he would attempt to pull her back. He didn't and she stretched out her forward momentum until his tip threatened to slip out. Then she slid down in excruciatingly slow increments, loving every delicious inch she took.

Dillon moaned, low and deep from behind her and she smiled. Good. It was about time he got some of his own back.

His grip tightened on her hair and he used the leverage to grind his cock against her walls.

It seemed he had heard her.

Isabelle rose up and slid back down, setting a languorous tempo to their lovemaking. Although she wasn't sure it could even be called lovemaking, more like an animalistic marking of one's mate. The need was so intense, so beyond her reasoning, it completely erased all logic and replaced it with a bone deep craving she wasn't sure could ever be satisfied.

Over and over she rose over him, his cock pulsing inside her with every downward glide until she landed with a muffled thud, her center meeting his ever thickening head.

It was heaven and hell all at once.

Izzy, you're killing me.

Payback is a bitch, Dillon.

Vixen.

Isabelle felt the warmth emanating deep in her heart at his words. Yes, she was a vixen, his vixen and she always would be.

She needed to see him, to see his eyes watching her when he submitted to her, when he drilled deep and heated her womb with his seed.

Rising up and reluctant to let him go for even a second, she quickly turned around, settling her opening over him, her heat enveloping his slick rod.

He watched her with hooded eyes full of smug contentment.

She couldn't blame him, not really. One look, one touch and she became a mindless drone to his needs and her own.

Smiling, she drew her fingertips over his navel, laughing when he sucked in a breath at her touch. Good to know she had the same effect on him he had on her.

His cock twitched.

She squeezed in reply.

His lips quirked at the corners, but it was one of those scary, I'm-going-to-get-you smiles, the kind that promised sweet torturous retribution.

I can take it.

Yes, you will.

She flicked a fingernail over a nipple, watching in fascination as it puckered up.

Hmm, Dillon needed a taste of his own medicine.

Leaning down, she caught his nipple between her lips and teased the tip with her tongue. She loved how his chest rose and his cock bulged inside her when she did that. It was like a chain reaction of the best kind.

I'm warning you...

Shh, I'm busy.

Isabelle.

She ignored him, focusing her efforts on loving his nipples, nibbling, tasting, owning.

He thrust upwards, his hands gripping the flesh at her hips as he pumped deep and then deeper still.

She almost lost it. He was so deep, so impossibly thick and damn, he felt so good, like he belonged there.

Forcing her attention back to the task on hand, she reared up and seated herself more fully onto his shaft.

Air hissed between his teeth. Hers, too. The sensation was so exquisite, so filling.

She peeled his hands off her hips and laced her fingers through his.

Rising slightly, she placed their interlinked hands on either side of his head.

Smiling, she placed a soft kiss on his collarbone before sliding up, riding his cock upwards until her mouth met his fully.

His eyes said more than the myriad thoughts running through both of their heads. They blazed with emotion. She had always known he wanted her, but this was different, this was him naked and vulnerable to her like never before. They were still linked, but only brief jumbled thoughts broke through. She could no longer tell who they belonged to anymore.

She nuzzled his lips and the fire burned brighter, hotter. He thickened and this time it was she who jumped.

He smiled into her mouth and she rose up, gliding up his body, then down, her nipples grazing his chest, over and over she rode, their mouths fusing and holding with every rise.

She welcomed him into her body and into her heart. And she knew she was offering both forever.

Yes, Love, always.

Dillon surged up, pushing their hands behind her back and forcing her to sit up. He took over, increasing the pace, driving into her with teeth jarring intensity.

With nothing to balance herself on or anything to hold on to, she was forced to take him deeper than she'd had before. Her insides clenched and tightened. God, she was teetering on the edge and he was determined to push her over.

Give it to me, Sweet Pussy.

Dillon...? She reached out.

Now, love.

He pushed up again and again, filling her to the brim before retreating, his mouth worshipping her neck, her breasts, and her face along the way.

It was too much. Little shock waves reverberated from her core and grew until they traveled to every nerve ending. She exploded with a cry, her body rising and falling of its own accord, as the molten heat poured out of her and covered his cock in a thick coat of her desire for him.

Dillon shouted and buried his cock deeper, until she felt the liquid fire pouring from him and into her weeping sheath.

She trembled as the aftershocks echoed through both of them, too weak to move, even if she had wanted to.

He released her hands and she was stunned to realize they were asleep. How hard had he been holding her and why hadn't she noticed? Oh, right.

Stretching out over him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, making sure to keep his cock firmly lodged inside her. She wasn't ready to give him up just yet.




Isabelle's Awakening Ch. 06



He embraced her, placing feather light kisses at her temples.

She released a lusty sigh of satisfaction. Dillon had come back for her.

Always, Isabelle.

And in that moment, Isabelle knew what she and Dillon had was once in a lifetime. 



Isabelle's Awakening



He took hold of her bound hands and drew them up to the bulge in his pants. He rubbed them over the length of his cock, letting her feel the thickness and weight. Isabelle felt the hardened shaft jerking against the pants restraining it. He was a big man, in every aspect and Isabelle couldn't help the thrill of desire that pulsed through her at the thought of a shaft that big penetrating her pussy. 

Her hands, guided by his, continued to stroke the length of him. Her palms itched for the feel of his naked flesh. He pushed his hips forward and groaned as her fingertips gripped his head through his pants. The crown expanded and pulsated under her touch, setting off a firestorm of need through Isabelle. 

Suddenly and without warning, he pulled her hands away, dropping them back into her lap. He undid his pants holding in his raging hard-on and pushed them down his thighs, exposing his cock to her view. He was throbbing, the veins pulsing and angry; the shaft jerking when the cool night air hit it. 

"Look what you've done to me Isabelle. You've got my cock jerking. Can't you see how angry it looks, how it swells up? You have to pay for making me want you so much." 

Isabelle wasn't paying attention and didn't reply. She was too busy looking her fill at the man's cock. Imagining that thick rod buried inside her made her mouth go dry and her pussy squeeze down tightly. Since she wasn't paying attention to his words she didn't notice the gleam in his eye, or the movement of his hands until his hands were on her shoulders. She looked up to see what had prompted him placing his hands there. 

"Do you like what you see Isabelle? Have you ever been fucked by a cock that big? Has that sweet pussy ever been impaled on something that threatens to split it open?" He asked, a strange look coming over his face. The light had shifted somewhat to allow her to see his eyes, dark haunting eyes, the color still unclear, but the intensity contained in them couldn't be mistaken. 

Isabelle gasped. It was like the man was reading her mind. Yes, she liked what she saw, and oh Lord, how she wanted to impale herself on his gigantic shaft, but how could she tell her rapist that she wanted him. 

"Answer me, Isabelle." He said his tone more insistent. 

"Yes." She rasped out, afraid to say or do any more for fear of giving even more of herself to this man. 

"Yes what? Say the words, sweet pussy." 

"Yes, I like what I see, No, I've never been fucked by a cock that big or been impaled on something that threatens to split me open." Isabelle swallowed to hide her embarrassment and humiliation. 

The man laughed. "But you'd like to be fucked by a big cock, wouldn't you? What about impaling that sweet, wet pussy on this cock Isabelle? Would you like that? Would you like to feel my throbbing, jerking cock in that pussy of yours? Don't lie to me Isabelle, I'll know if you're telling the truth or not. And besides you're not really in a position to lie now are you?" 

The resentment built up in Isabelle. How dare this man break into her house, tie her up, take advantage of her body and now force her to tell him how much she wanted him. It was completely humiliating and Isabelle was ashamed of her arousal even more because of it. Still, she knew she had no choice but to go along with his charade and because she did want his cock inside her she answered him, choosing her words carefully. 

"What woman wouldn't want to be fucked by a big cock?" 

"Ahhh, very clever of you Isabelle, but that's not what I asked. I asked if you wanted my throbbing rod sheathed in your hot pussy." 

"Yes." Isabelle whispered.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you." He said.

"YES!" Isabelle practically shouted. "Yes, I want your cock in my pussy, I want to grind my hips against yours and rub my lips up and down your shaft until I coat you. And I want your cock shoved as far into my pussy as it will go. Are you satisfied now?" 

Isabelle averted her face from his piercing gaze, ashamed of her outburst and waiting to see what he would do. 

"There, that wasn't so bad now was it Isabelle?" He said, his hands moving to grasp the collar around her neck. He pulled on it gently, making her back arch. "But I'm afraid I can't give you what you want just yet Isabelle. You see I need to see your lips wrapped around my shaft first. Can you do that for me sweet pussy? Can I trust you not to bite me?" 

Isabelle just looked up at him, and imagined the way he would taste. She tried to shake the mental image he had conjured from her mind, the image of his cock disappearing into her mouth, the large head ramming deep into her throat, but it swam before her eyes and caused her mouth to go dry. 

"Answer me Isabelle." 

"Yes, I can do that. I won't bite you." Isabelle answered, aware of the fact that she was now a willing participant in her own rape. Her tongue slipped from between her lips involuntarily, already anticipating the feel of the smooth marbled flesh. 

"Good girl, Isabelle." 

With one hand wrapped in the collar he brought her to her feet. One hand reached out and tugged on one of her nipples, pinching the raised flesh. Then slowly he drew her to her knees in front of him on the floor. When she looked up his cock was mere inches from her mouth.

"That's a very good girl Isabelle. I can't wait to feel those luscious lips wrapped around my cock." He murmured. 

With his hand still entwined in the cloth collar, he guided her mouth closer to his cock. His thick cock bobbed near her face and Isabelle swallowed hard, afraid and yet anxiously awaiting the brutal pounding she was sure he was going to give her mouth. 

"Open your mouth, Isabelle." He commanded, his ramrod stiff cock jutting dangerously close to her lips. 

Isabelle licked her dry lips and did as he commanded, watching trancelike as his cock moved ever closer to her mouth. She felt the head bump against her open lips, brushing over her full lips, and pressing against her cheek. She instinctively turned her head towards him seeking to take him into her mouth and heard him chuckle. 

"I knew you wanted to taste me Isabelle. Look at you following my cock around with your mouth. I like that Isabelle." He said, and then he tightened his hold on the restraint around her neck, pulling her down over his cock, thrusting his head into her waiting mouth.

His head swelled upon the contact with her wet and ready mouth. Isabelle explored the rigid head, swirling her tongue over and around his probing cock. She couldn't take more of him into her because of his hold on her restraints. He only allowed her to suck on his head, pushing it in slightly and then drawing it back out, rubbing his cock head over her lips. His hands maintained a steady grip, not allowing her any mobility, and when she tried to taste more of him he pulled her back, leaving his cock a scant centimeter away. 

"Arch your back Isabelle. Show me those tits. And don't forget to squeeze that pussy." He pulled her back, forcing her into an uncomfortable arch. 

Isabelle's pussy automatically responded to his demand and she leaned farther back, pushing her tits into the air. She looked up to see a smirk of satisfaction cross his face at her vulnerable position. His free hand reached down and fondled her breast causing her already stiff nipple to grow even more rigid. 

"Get up and get back on the bed Isabelle, I need to be able to see that pussy while you're sucking my cock, maybe even shove a finger or two inside that tight pussy of yours." He growled, pulling on the collar to help her up and then pushing her back onto the bed. Only this time he positioned her head at the end of the bed, her unbound feet at the head. 

Isabelle watched as he moved to stand at the end of the bed. His efficient hands took hold of her shoulders and pulled her down until her head was hanging off the edge. Isabelle had never felt more at a disadvantage than she did at this moment. Her bound hands prevented her from grasping anything for leverage and hanging off the bed wasn't a position that allowed one to feel superior. It only served to increase her fear; she didn't know this man and had no clue what he was capable of. 

"Spread those legs, I want to see that wet pussy of yours. That way when you're sucking my cock I can play with your pussy anytime I want." 

Isabelle did as he asked and spread her legs open, knowing she was pretty much helpless to do anything else. His cock bumped against her lips and she opened her mouth to receive him, unsure of what to expect next in his twisted game. 

"I want to fuck your throat Isabelle. I want to feel my cock rammed down your throat, going in and out of your wet, warm mouth. The better you suck my cock Isabelle, the better I will treat that pussy."

Isabelle couldn't reply and wasn't sure she wanted to. His cock was moving deeper into her mouth, her tongue tasting the length of him and feeling every angry, throbbing, vein slide by. And still he kept going, driving his hips forward and filling her mouth. When his cock got close to her throat, Isabelle tried not to tense up, afraid she would gag and then afraid of what he would do if she did. 

He held his position for a moment, rubbing his cock around her mouth, getting familiar with the contours of her tongue and cheeks. Isabelle relaxed a little, still nervous, but noting that he seemed to be exercising some restraint. That thought flew out of head almost before she had time to complete it, as his hands came down onto her breasts and he ground his cock into the back of her throat. 

Isabelle almost choked feeling the size of him moving down her throat, but she managed to relax her muscles and tried to block out the sensations tingling through her breasts. She couldn't believe this man had his cock shoved so far into her throat she was threatening to gag. His hands continued to pull and twist her nipples, using her nipples to lift her heavy breasts in the air. Isabelle couldn't stop the moan from escaping her lips at the way he was tweaking her nipples and grinding into her mouth.  

"Hmmm, that's right Isabelle, moan on my cock, I like the vibrations." 

Isabelle began to suck at his cock more frantically, pulling him even deeper into her throat, wanting to feel his cock swell even more. Her pussy was contracting over and over, the hair matted with moisture. She almost came when she felt his fingers probing the folds of her skin. He slid a finger up her slit while simultaneously ramming his cock farther down her throat, teasing the tender flesh and causing her pussy to clench even tighter. Isabelle sucked his cock harder, her cheeks sinking in from the effort of maintaining a tight seal around his cock. 

He slid a finger into her entrance, swirling it around her inner walls, just barely teasing her entry. Isabelle went nuts, her mouth sliding up and down his shaft, his cock coated with her saliva. 

"See, Isabelle, the faster you stroke my cock with that sexy mouth of yours, the faster I'll stroke your pussy. If you stop sucking I'll stop giving that pussy what it wants. It wants to be fucked real hard doesn't it Isabelle?" 

Again Isabelle didn't reply; her mouth was too busy. She knew that her pussy needed to be touched and it needed to be touched by this man, with his fingers and his cock and his mouth. So she worked harder at his cock, stroking his length over and over with her mouth, sucking his head into her mouth and rolling her tongue over the sensitive surface. Hoping he would match her movements and stroke her overeager pussy. 

His finger stopped the stroking and pulled her lips apart, and Isabelle moaned with disappointment. He spread her wide open and her gaping pussy contracted against the cool air hitting it. She could feel him looking at the wetness dripping from her lips which only caused more to seep from her. Isabelle couldn't remember ever being this wet, this ready, or this willing to suck a man's cock. She thrust her hips upward towards his probing fingers, knowing she would do anything to have this ache in her pussy appeased. 

He slid his finger farther into her, rubbing it around her slick walls, seeking more of the tight sheath. Isabelle kept up her vigilance, stroking his cock with her lips and silently hoping he would touch more of her. This time he didn't disappoint, his finger slid deep inside, his hand was flush against her pussy lips he had so much of his hand in her. More, Isabelle thought, more. Her hips were grinding against him, pushing hard against his finger and sucking more of his cock into her mouth. 

"Your mouth feels good Isabelle; your lips are so soft wrapped around my cock. And such a sweet pussy you have. I might let you lick the cum from my shaft if you keep sucking me like that Isabelle." The man's voice encouraged her while his fingers continued to massage her vaginal walls. He pulled his cock slightly out of her mouth and again rubbed his cock head over her lips, the rapidly expanding flesh jerking against her mouth in the process.

Without warning he thrust his cock back into her mouth and moaned. The sound reverberated through his body and vibrated in Isabelle's mouth. She was literally about to go mad, tasting this man's large bulging cock was making her pussy twitch, and she didn't know how much more she could take. She knew she was supposed to wait to cum until he said so but he kept dipping his fingers into her pussy and drawing them out again, bringing her dangerously close to disobeying again.

"Don't do it Isabelle. You won't like what will happen to you if you disobey me again. I can feel your pussy squeezing my fingers, about ready to explode over my hand but I didn't give you permission yet." He withdrew his cock and his fingers and Isabelle wanted to cry in disappointment. She laid there gasping for air wondering when he was going to end this torture. 

He quickly moved her back onto the bed, her head no longer hanging off the edge but still at the foot of the bed. He stripped off his clothes, dumping them unceremoniously on the floor. The bed shifted as he moved over her, his legs straddling her thighs and trapping her legs as effectively as the ties binding her hands. The light from the closet was no longer at his back but he kept his face obscured in the shadows, allowing her only a glimpse of his hair covered chest and muscular shoulders. 

His thighs were hair covered and muscular as well, the heat from them enveloping her legs. His manhood hung heavy against the junction of her thighs, the weight seemed to press down on her, instilling a desire on her part to thrust towards him. But the thought of what he might do held her back. Still, she couldn't help the shuddering thrill that pulsated through her upon feeling his thick cock in such close proximity to her waiting pussy. 

"Isabelle, sweet pussy, look at those puffed up slick pussy lips. My God, I have never seen a more delectable pussy. I can't wait to fuck that pussy, no, not fuck it, punish it Isabelle. I need to punish it, I need to know that it's stuffed full of cock, rammed to the hilt with cock, my cock Isabelle. Don't you ever forget that." His voice had gone rough, the once smooth tone now sounding scratchy and sand covered. The statement was one made by someone who understood deep desire and felt it to the core. 

Isabelle insides responded to the need in his voice. It wasn't what he said, it was the rawness of the emotion expressed in his tone that got to her. A raw need she herself had experienced and had never known how to quench. She reached down with her bound hands to trace a line over his chest, trying to memorize the texture and feel of his skin. 

His hands closed over hers and he moved them back over her head. Isabelle felt helpless to do anything else but watch. She wanted to touch her rapist, it was that simple and she was disappointed that her hands were unable to touch his skin with her palms or rake her nails lightly down his back. 

He pushed his hips closer, his heavy genitalia brushing against her, tickling her pubic hair. This time Isabelle didn't stop her hips from thrusting up, her pussy lips coming into contact with him briefly until he pulled back. Once again he pushed closer, his cock hovering over her clit, where he then drew little circles in her pubic mound lightly before again pulling away. 

When he pushed back the third time he laid his cock right on top of her pussy, nestled on top of her hair, pressing down softly and teasing her unmercifully. Isabelle's hip shot upward, seeking more of the heavy pressure from the weight of his cock, and needing to feel the hot thick heat of his arousal against her. 

He didn't disappoint her this time, pressing his cock harder against her lips, then rotating his hips in small circles. Isabelle cried out as her aching pussy reacted to his gyrations. Her lips felt even more engorged as if that were even possible, and she knew if he touched her clit she would cum in an instant. He kept grinding against her, never quite touching her clit, just pushing his cock harder against her pussy lips. 

Isabelle's mind knew she had to obey him, but her pussy wasn't listening and she knew it was matter of seconds before he brought her to climax just from his cock rubbing over her lips, making them so sensitive the slightest pressure would send her over the edge. He must have sensed she was close because he abruptly stopped his movements and looked down at her knowingly. 

"Did I tell you to cum yet Isabelle?" He asked, his tone indicating displeasure. 

"No." She answered meekly, afraid that if she didn't obey him he wouldn't let her cum and right now that was the only thing she wanted. Her pussy had never ached like it did now.

"That's right I didn't. I guess I'll have to show you what it means to listen, Isabelle. I told you, you were not to cum until I told you to, and now you'll have to learn the hard way I'm afraid." He sighed and rolled off of her legs. He gripped her thighs and spread her legs open. He moved between her legs, his hands reaching under her thighs and pushing her legs up and back until she was obscenely exposed once again. The new position forced her pussy to jut out causing even more sensations to roar through her. 

He knelt down closer to her pussy lips, his hands firmly holding her legs, his mouth hovering only inches from her mound. He blew a breath over her lips, watching them tighten in response. Her reaction brought a smile to his lips. So he did it again, just to see her pussy tighten again, her wetness seeping out with every contraction. 

He pressed his lips against her opening so softly she wasn't sure if she imagined it. She felt his lips pressing against her again, a little harder this time. She realized he was kissing her pussy lips, softly nipping at her lips as if it were her mouth about to open up and meet his kiss. His tongue slipped out and traced her lips, the tenderness of the gesture wasn't lost on Isabelle, and she wondered where it came from, considering the situation. As the kiss continued, his tongue slipped in between her lips and traced her entrance, tasting her soft moist heat. 

A moan escaped from Isabelle, his tongue stoking a fire already out of control. She contracted around his tongue, her opening tightening around him, hoping to pull him even deeper. He slipped his tongue in and out of her entrance, French kissing her pussy until she was shaking with need. 

"I want you to cum for me Isabelle, cum in my mouth. Let me feel that pussy gushing, because I know it's going to gush when I let you cum." He said softly, his lips only a breath away from her swollen pussy. 

The softly spoken words inflamed her further as his tongue lapped at her, licking at one side of her pussy then licking the other side. His tongue only served to swell the flesh even more. He braced her legs on his elbows and used his hands to make contact with her lips and spread them wide, leaving her entrance completely exposed, stretched open by the force of his fingers holding them. His tongue continued to lave at her taut skin, applying more pressure than at any other time. The pleasure was excruciating in its intensity and Isabelle's body reacted violently, her legs shook, and her hips pushed up in a desperate attempt at release. 




Isabelle's Awakening



He pushed his tongue into her, swirling his tongue inside her entrance, her pussy instantly tightened around him, pulling him deeper into her wetness. Her pussy sucked at his tongue desperately, needing the full contact of his mouth against her lips. He obliged her and pushed farther into her, his tongue stroking her inner walls, his tongue exploring, searching for her secrets. His lips sucked and pulled at hers while his tongue danced inside, increasing the speed and intensity of his strokes, seeking and finding her release. 

With his mouth latched onto her pussy and his tongue thrusting deep into her pussy, Isabelle screamed out as she came. She convulsed with pleasure, her pussy wrapping around his tongue and squeezing the source of her pleasure. She felt him moan into her pussy and couldn't stop the second wave that washed over her when she felt the vibrations on his tongue. She couldn't believe the amount of wetness that poured from her, coating his tongue and face. 

He continued to lick her until the convulsions slowed down, cleaning every drop of cum from her pussy. Isabelle moaned, she had never been taken this way, never had a man make love to her pussy with his mouth in such a way, never had a man lick all the cum from her and still expect more. And he did want more, judging by the size of his hard-on. 

"You taste so sweet Isabelle, just like I knew you would. This pussy was made for me, for my cock and my tongue." He said, still positioned between her legs, he let her legs drop down but kept them spread open, using his hands to push them even farther down, exposing her raw pussy once again. Placing a kiss on her lips, he arose from in between her thighs onto his knees, his cock moving dangerously close to her pussy. 

Isabelle sucked in her breath at the closeness, realizing how badly she wanted to feel him buried to the hilt inside of her. It didn't matter that he was her rapist, she wanted him. It ashamed her and sent her arousal level into another galaxy. Her hips bucked seeking the thick shaft and hoping he would allow her the pleasure of feeling him sheathed deep inside. 

His cock slapped against her lips, sending a shockwave through Isabelle. He was so heavy, the weight of him slapping against her lips caused her mound to swell to painful proportions. She felt his hands at her lips again, spreading her open a little more gently this time. His cock came down again on her open pussy, slapping at the pool of moisture left over from when she came. It made a splat like noise and Isabelle turned her head in embarrassment at the wetness. 

"Don't you dare turn away Isabelle, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You have a beautiful, swollen, sopping wet pussy that needs to be slapped, sucked, licked, and fucked real hard. There's nothing wrong with that, sweet pussy. Why do you think I'm here? Because your pussy is like a roaring bonfire and I am a moth drawn to its flames." 

Isabelle looked up in time to catch a brief glimpse of his intense features before he pulled himself back into the shadows. His cock continued to slap her lips, and her entrance, teasing the flesh, until Isabelle couldn't take it. 

"Please." She whispered. 

"Please what Isabelle?" He asked.

Isabelle couldn't say the words, didn't want to. She only knew that she needed to have him inside of her now before the need consumed her alive. 

"Please what?" He asked louder this time. 

"Please fuck me." The words barely made it past her lips, she wanted to choke on them. 

"Please fuck you. Hmmm, maybe I will and maybe I won't." He teased.

Isabelle wanted to scream in frustration, his cock kept up its incessant battering against her pussy and still he would not fuck her. His cock was coated with her cum, making the slaps noisier. She thrust her hips up and caught the head of his penis against her opening. She held her position and looked up at him, silently begging him with her eyes to finish what he had started. He must have taken pity on her because he pushed into her, just until his head was surrounded by her grasping lips. 

"Oh." The word escaped her lips, the only coherent thought she had when she felt him pushing into her. He was so large, yes, she had taken him into her mouth and hadn't had a problem, but she was almost afraid of what he was going to do to the inside of her pussy. But she was even more afraid of what would happen if he didn't push into her. 

"Tighten that pussy Isabelle, let me feel that pussy gripping me." 

Isabelle obeyed and felt her muscles clamping down on him, seeking more of his thickness. He pushed farther into her, stretching her pussy, easing the way for the rest of his cock. Her wetness helped to ease what felt like a battering ram being shoved into her. And still she pushed up, not caring that she felt like she was being split in two. Her pussy contracted again and again around him, desperate to feel the length of him seated in her. 

"Your pussy is so tight Isabelle, a wet velvet box wrapped around my cock. I need to push more of my cock into you, need to feel your pussy squeezing my cock, milking it. Tighten it up again Isabelle." He murmured. 

Isabelle tightened her sheath, feeling him sink even farther into her. He felt incredible, full, thick, and throbbing. His fingers found her nipples and pulled, twisting the nubs until they were stiff and standing at attention. The action drew her attention away from her pulsating pussy for just a moment, focusing her arousal on her tingling nipples. 

He brought her attention back swiftly, slamming into her with a force she had never known. The thickness of his cock took her breath away, it filled her completely. And still he kept pushing forward, not stopping until his balls were pressed up against her ass, until their pubic hair meshed. There he stopped, holding his position and letting her feel him throb inside of her, his cock jerking against her walls. Every movement set off a firestorm in Isabelle, her back arched and she pushed back with all her might, matching his position and feeling him grind into her mound. 

"Squeeze, Isabelle, squeeze." He commanded. 

She complied, squeezing him with everything she had, feeling as if she would push him out and still he kept pushing into her, forcing more of his cock into her extremely tight pussy. Even though she couldn't see his face, she knew he never took his eyes off of her. She felt him looking at her, gauging her reactions, watching the different expressions flit across her upturned face. She no longer cared what he thought, she just didn't want him to stop what he was doing, didn't want his cock to withdraw from her. 

"Hmmm, Isabelle, that feels good. Now I'm going to take this pussy like it's never been taken before." 

He withdrew his cock halfway, rolling his hips and his cock around. Isabelle followed him, her hips seeking his thickness, not wanting to lose the warm contact between them. He pulled out farther, leaving the tip of his cock just barely in her entrance. Isabelle tensed, waiting for him to come back. He gripped her hips hard and slammed into her, driving his cock home, displacing all the liquid in one quick swoosh. 

Isabelle felt all the breath leave her chest when he slammed into her womb. She curled up, fighting the urge to buck him off. Just as she adjusted to the size of him ramming into her, he pulled out again to the tip and slammed back home. Over and over he repeated his movements, never stopping or tiring of fucking her. His pubic bone ground into her clit, never breaking contact. It exaggerated the throbbing sensations because of the constant pressure. 

Isabelle felt the orgasm building deep in her pussy, she felt herself contract, her walls squeezing down with a force she didn't know she possessed. She wanted this man to let her cum, she wanted him to fill her with his seed. She didn't understand the desire to cum over him or the desire to feel him cumming deep in her pussy, she only knew she wanted it badly. She pushed up against him, wanting more of his heat, his thrusting cock, and his hips grinding into her. 

"Are you ready to cum Isabelle?" He asked, holding his cock at her entrance again, refusing to push back in until she answered him. 

"Yes, oh please, yes." She rasped out.

"Hmmm," he moaned, "it would feel nice to have your pussy cum on my cock, to feel you milking me." He pushed in again, circling his hips, his cock raking over her ultra sensitive walls. 

"Please." She whispered, her mouth completely dry, her body tensed up. 

"CUM Isabelle!" He yelled slamming into her over and over, driving his words home with his hips. Isabelle responded, her pussy clenched at his shouted command and released a warm wet gush, the walls contracting again and again. And still the crest continued, the orgasms coming in waves, wrapping him in wetness and heat. She felt his cock expanding, growing even larger inside of her as his release came. He thrust into her over and over, shouting her name as he filled her with cum. 

Isabelle laid there with her eyes closed and waited until the room stopped spinning before she opened them again. She could feel his cock jerk inside of her and her pussy squeezed back in response. He slowly pulled out of her and moved off of the bed.  

She knew he was getting dressed by the sounds. She could hear the zipper of his pants as he fastened them, hear him slipping his sweatshirt back over his head. Felt him sit down on the bed to put his shoes on. Still, she didn't open her eyes, uncertain of what to feel in a moment like this. It wasn't as if he was a lover she wanted to cuddle with, he had raped her. Had she participated? Definitely. But she did not ask him to come to her house and take her, and yet she was saddened he was getting dressed and leaving. 

"That was good Isabelle, thank you." He said casually. 

Isabelle gritted her teeth, refusing to believe he was as unaffected as he sounded. She watched as he moved even further into the shadows, not allowing her the opportunity to catch even a glimpse of his face. 

"Are you leaving?" She asked, hating herself for asking even as she said the words. 

"Worried about me leaving Isabelle? I just raped you sweet pussy, I don't think it's wise to hang around. I wouldn't want your husband to come home and catch us in this compromising position." 

Isabelle gasped, she had completely forgotten about her husband. She had willingly participated in her own rape and hadn't once thought of her husband. Or her children either for that matter. She knew they weren't coming home, there wasn't a risk of him catching her in the act, so to speak. They were visiting his aunt and always stayed for a long weekend at her ranch. She turned her head away from his voice coming out of the shadows and didn't answer him. 

She stewed in the silence that followed, waiting to see what he would do next when she realized it was too quiet in the room.

"Hello?" She called out. 

No one answered. She heard a soft snick downstairs and realized he had left out the front door. She ran to her window to try to see him but the lighting was too poor, she only caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure walking quickly over the lawn and to the sidewalk where her view was obscured by the trees. 

Isabelle sighed and tried to sort out what had just happened. She sat back down on the bed and realized her hands were still bound. She worked the knot, twisting her hands until they were free. She untied the bond at her neck and rubbed the soft skin until normal feeling returned. She knew she should call the police but she didn't want to, couldn't bring herself to call what had happened rape, even though that was what it had been. 

Instead she gathered the blankets and rearranged them neatly back onto the bed, laying back down and covering herself in the process. She closed her eyes and let the memories assault her mind. Her hand reached down and touched her still tingling nipples, wondering if what had happened was real. 

Had she really been that wanton, that willing, that anyone would do, including a man she didn't know but who knew her? Her thoughts drifted and she relaxed into the bed, smelling his scent on the sheet. The last thought that crossed her mind before she floated into sleep was that she wanted him again.