Elliot Mabeuse (14 page)

The skies suddenly split and the patter of rain became a roar. It began to pour—a deluge of water falling from the sky and thundering on the roof of the van and obscuring the windshield, filling the air so completely that I totally lost sight of her. I started the van, hit the wipers and yanked on the lights then threw it into gear, hit the gas and roared around in a tight U-turn, the tires sizzling on the steaming tarmac. Emma turned and looked at me and this time I could tell she wasn't acting.

I don't know what she'd been expecting—maybe she thought I'd call the whole thing off because of the rain and just pull up along side her and tell her to hop in—but apparently she hadn't been expecting a maniac roaring down on top of her at forty miles an hour in a tight U-turn in this oversized van with his brights on. She was already good and wet, the rain was streaming down her face, and now the sensation of being lit up in

the dark by a pair of five-thousand candlepower headlights must have sent some primal wave of fear surging through her body and she froze like a deer on the highway.

She quickly gathered her wits and looked around for cover, but there was no place to go except for the weeds at the edge of the parking lot some twenty yards away and I angled the van to cut her off. She turned back, hesitated just a moment, and started to run.

In my fantasy I'd dreamed of pursuing her in the van, running her down in the relentless glare of the headlights, but that had been fantasy. Now I was consumed with this weird obsession of stealing her away and I didn't have time for games. One part of me felt foolish but the beast was in control and the beast just stomped down on the accelerator and ran up along side her and squealed to a stop. I threw the lever into park and tore the door open, jumped out and grabbed her by the arm even before the van stopped rocking.

She was soaked now and her hair was stuck to her face, the dress clinging to her body. She got one glimpse at the look of insane desire in my eyes and she blanched with fear.

"Oh wow, Conner! No!"

She was really scared. Somehow she knew exactly what was going on. She could tell from my face just what was racing through my mind, and she knew our little game had turned into some private and demented caveman ritual far too close to the real thing. If she went along with me, there would be consequences. She could see that now. She could see it in my face and she could feel it in the way I held her. She could

sense it in the way I stood over her with the lightning flashing over my back and the rain streaming down over both of us in the dark and deserted parking lot like some crazy Cro-Magnon tableau.

"Shut up!" I shouted. "Just be quiet! Come on!"

I used my strength on her, pulled her to the side of the van and wrenched the door open, and Emma dug in her heels. She wasn't very big and I'm a strong guy. I could have thrown her in easily, but I stopped, one foot inside the van. I knew I was acting crazy and I tried to calm down. I looked inside the empty van and then I looked at her.

"You know your safe word," I said, daring her.

I held her arm so tightly she was half bent over and I could see the tops of her breasts where the bodice of her dress hung loose, the pretty lace bra she'd worn. She tried to pry my fingers off her arm, and then looked at my hand and at the grip I had on her. She looked up at my face but she didn't say anything.

I hauled her up into the van and pushed her inside, lowered her to the floor, then climbed in and slid the door closed behind me with a loud thump.

It was dark in the van and the rain thundered on the roof, a constant roar. The yellowish light seeping into the back had a wavy, greenish, undersea cast. Emma cowered against the wall of the van, her skirt riding halfway up her thighs. My heart was pounding in my ears and when I looked at her, she looked scared, but her eyes were glowing like coals.

I'd tacked strips of duct tape against the inside of the van and now I grabbed a piece and used it to bind her wrists behind her back, then I took another and wrapped it around her ankles. I grabbed a scarf from the box behind the back seat and blindfolded her, then wrapped another around her mouth for a gag.

"Are you okay? Can you breathe?" I whispered. "Give me two if you can breathe okay."

"Mnh! Nnh!" she groaned.

"Good. Three times is your safe word, okay? Two more if you understand."

"Mmmpff! Mnngh!"

I slid behind the wheel and threw the van into gear and drove around toward B

building. In all, it had taken me less than thirty seconds to get her into the van and I don't think anyone had seen, not with this rain coming down. I drove back by the parking lot by B, over by the far end where there were big trees, back by the duck pond. The rain was pouring down and already the van was splashing hubcap deep through big puddles; water was dripping down the back of my neck.

I pulled into a spot and turned off the engine and crawled into the back where Emma lay against the wall—bound, gagged and blindfolded, breathing fast, her legs bent and knees together. The sight of her inflamed me and I felt wild and desperate and dangerous.

It didn't matter that it’d been a game and I'd planned it. I'd become an outlaw for her, I'd broken the law for her and I felt it in a burning lustful cock-centered rage. I'd had some plans about keeping her here for a while, about playing with her—feeling her up

and teasing her, maybe making her blow me, taking my time—but now my blood was up and I forgot all about that. I felt desperate. Huddled in the van with her as the rain poured down, it was like we were two animals in a cave, reduced to the most elemental level of existence. I pulled her against me like I'd won her and felt her panting with excitement. I ran my hand over her body, touched her between the legs and heard her moan.

I got to my feet and untied the gag and tore it from her mouth, grabbed her hair and pulled her up and held her head in a death grip. She gasped, afraid to move, arching her back and groaning, trying to ease the tension on her hair, waiting while I held her and fumbled with my pants with the other hand. I pulled at my belt and clawed at the zipper, shoving them down and pulling out my dick, then I pulled her head up and pressed my cock against her expectant lips. She knew what I wanted. She already knew the price she had to pay.

"Take it!" I hissed, tightening my fingers in her hair. "Take it, Emma! Take it! I'm not fucking around!"

I was standing there bent over, almost trembling with need, and if she hadn't opened her mouth and sucked me inside the way she did, I don't know what I might have done. As it was, the pleasure of her mouth was like some scalding relief to me, so intense I had to brace my hand against the roof of the van to keep from falling over, and Emma moaned and sucked hard, obsequiously, with slavish joy and abandon, glad to be conquered and glad to be used. The sensation was so intense I lost my grip on her hair and braced both hands on the roof. Emma remained fixed to me by the sheer force of her powerful suction, like some sort of cum-starved leech. Even the spastic reflexive

jerk of my hips as her tongue rubbed across my hypersensitive glans couldn't dislodge her. My hips punched forward at her in a powerful thrust but she hung on, hands tied behind her, hanging on to me like a fish on a line.

It was good she was blindfolded and good she couldn't see because I didn't want her to witness the naked animal ferocity on my face. I was all beast now, all savage, and I was glad, too, I couldn't see her eyes, whether they showed fear or pleasure, either one, any sort of sign that she wasn't totally involved in what was happening right now because all I needed her to be was just this—a sucking mouth, a cunt, a woman in the crudest, most basic sense. I needed it because I needed the freedom to be just as cruel and inhuman as I felt . This wasn't about love and this wasn't about tenderness.

This was about the crushing ferocity of sex and desire. This was the rock everything else grew from, and I didn't need anyone reminding me of everything I was repressing and throwing away.

I took one hand from the ceiling and slid my fingers through her hair again, tightening my grip. I slid my hand across her cheek and felt the way her jaw was distended to take my prick in her mouth and I kept my hand there against her face, grinding my hips around in tight, wicked circles. I wanted to feel the tip of my prick press against the inside of her cheek, feel it there working in her mouth, touching her teeth, her palette, the private places where she made her words and ate her food. I wanted her full of me, choking on me. I loved fucking her mouth, violating that beautiful face with my big, brutal dick…

I tightened my grip in her hair and held her head, bent under the roof and, turned her so I had her pressed up against the side of the van and began to fuck her mouth

with short, savage strokes, my heavy balls slapping against her chin. The pleasure was intense, unutterable, the feeling of possession. The rain thundered down against the roof but still I could hear the thump, thump, thump of her head as it hit the side of the van from my blows and hear Emma's cries of protest and acceptance, and then as my stomach clenched in the warning spasms of pre-orgasmic pleasure and the world started to fade and get blurry and indistinct, I suddenly realized she was crying out in groups of threes and stopped, pulled myself back from the edge—stopped, drew my cock from her mouth and let go of her hair.

"My arms," she coughed. "It's my arms. They're too tight."

I pulled off her blindfold and she blinked and looked at me. Something in my face must have alarmed her, because she added, "They're just too tight, that's all. I didn't mean for you to stop."

I pulled the tape off her wrists. She couldn't see me smile. "You bitch."

I taped her wrists together again, this time in front, but the break had drained the ferocious insanity out of me, had brought me back to reality, albeit altered. We'd crossed some bridge and she was mine, at least temporarily. We had time now. This cave had become a temporary home.

I pulled her into the center of the van and put her on her side. I shucked my shoes and pants and shorts off and got on my knees. I held her bound wrists above her head in one hand as I slid my cock into her mouth again and started to fuck her, slower this time, without the savage desperation, feeding it to her and letting her show me what she could do, how she could love me with her mouth, just how good she was.

And she was good.

I knelt by her head and rolled my hips in a steady, even pace. Emma kept her jaws apart, her cheeks hollowing and filling as my cock slid in and out. She hummed softly, a kind of tender chant of pleasure as she let me have her mouth, sucking me and chasing me with her tongue, offering me her slavish devotion for whatever I might want.

She was ready to accommodate me in anything, and when I pulled my cock out and bent the shaft up against my stomach and leaned forward Emma immediately pushed her face forward and began to lick and fondle my balls with her tongue.

Such a good slave deserved something of her own. I rose up on my knees and rolled her onto her back so she was arched over the pile of blankets, her body entirely on display, her rain dappled dress stuck to her skin, then I reached down and peeled the tape from her ankles. Emma sighed as I returned to my position at her head and the steady pumping of my cock into her softly sucking mouth.

Her body was rich and lush and, as I held her wrists over her head with one hand, I used the other to roam over her breasts and body like a conqueror taking possession of his territory. I pushed down the bodice of her dress and pulled her bra up out of the way and filled my hands with the ample flesh of her tits, then slid my hand down beneath the dress and over the warm, smooth skin of her belly. Lightning ripped through the sky and illuminated her lying there half naked, my cock dipping into her mouth, my hand ravishing her body, her legs parted in abject surrender. I began to fuck her faster, leaning forward and thrusting straight down into her throat, loving the soft, sudsy sound my shaft made as it churned up her saliva. She could sense my excitement now and must have felt the clenching spasms of my cock and known I was

getting close. Still it was very quiet in the van—the sound of my cock in her mouth, our deep breathing, her soft, airy moans of pleasure—the tension, the sounds of two people intent on one person's pleasure.

I slid my hand down between her legs. She was wearing cotton panties, the kind little girls wear, sweet and innocent. They went with her entire outfit and that allusion to innocence and naiveté was just too perfect, too wickedly brilliant. It spoke to that basic sweetness and purity women aspire to, the difference between girls and women, between pretty and sexy, and it spoke to the basic reason Emma had come to me—to have that purity defiled. She knew us too well.

I ran my finger up the soft cotton crotch and looked down at Emma as she was lost in sucking and laving my cock in whorish pleasure. I grabbed the panties and locked them in my fist, slowly and steadily tightening my grip. Emma groaned and shifted her hips as the fabric bit into her sex. I pulled and her voice rose in alarm. Her sucking increased as if she were trying to appease me. I pulled harder and the cotton began to rip, and Emma whimpered submissively, trying to calm me, trying to stave off the all but inevitable rape that was certainly coming, a silly thing to do given the nature of our relationship, but instinctive I suppose when a man starts ripping your innocence off.

The panties ripped wide and Emma fell back with a cry. I yanked and tore at them and Emma raised her head and stared down at herself as I pulled them off, shredding them to pieces until nothing remained but a few scraps of cotton and elastic hanging forlornly around her waist and thighs. Then her head fell back in surrender. She was exposed now. She had nothing left to defend anymore.