Learning to Drown

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This
book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually
explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some
readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

All
sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the
product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though
reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events
or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover
Design: Selena Kitt

Learning
To Drown © February 2011 Sommer Marsden

e
X
cessica publishing

All
rights reserved

Learning To Drown

Prologue

“Shut up, bitch,” he growled and fear
curled low in my belly. His hands were cruel on my skin as he marched me up the
splintered wooden steps and shoved me onto the screened-in porch. I barely
registered a plaid sofa, some fishing gear, old dirty boots before he bent me
forward at the waist and kicked my legs apart. “Now we’ll have some fun. You
and me, baby. I can hear you breathing, you know? And I can smell your pussy.”

I shut my eyes and tried to focus on
not shaking with fear. I must stay in control. But it wasn’t easy when he
started ripping at my clothes. The slow drag of his hands up my inner thigh,
yanking and tearing the cotton of my leggings as if they were made of cotton
candy. They parted so easily under his brutal touch.

“Please,” I whispered. An entirely
useless plea. His touch was crude, his voice cold. He pulled the leggings off
and dropped them at my feet where they pooled, black like a puddle of ink. His
fingers severed the small side string of my panties. Then the other. The small
piece of white fabric dropped like a felled surrender flag.

“Oh, you don’t have to say please.
I’ll fuck you no matter what you say.” He grabbed my hands up behind my back. I
felt the scrape of rope as he hastily looped it around my wrists. I struggled
harder, to test my bonds and he yanked the rope tighter so it burned my skin.
“Keep it up and I’ll hogtie you, whore.”

I dropped my head and stared at my
feet, still clad in my black flip-flops with the rhinestones. Where was I? Who
was he? It was impossible to tell because his black mask covered everything but
his mouth and blue eyes burning bright in the murky light. Eyes that shiny
usually meant fever. Or madness.

He pushed me forward, my hips banging
the arm of the old sofa. It smelled like wet leaves and dust. I stifled a
sneeze and he pushed his big fingers into my cunt from behind. Heat flooded my
cheeks and tears clogged my throat. A wet pulse started where his fingers met
my flesh. A swell of warm arousal that made my throat ache worse. I swallowed a
small whimper as his finger thrust perfunctorily before he added another.
“You’re so wet. Did you know you were this wet, slut? I can fuck you any way I
want. But first I think you need to take care of business.”

More moisture slid from my pussy. It
warmed the insides of my thighs and I shut my eyes even as he turned me so the
world went topsy-turvy for a moment. Alice through the Looking Glass. Alternate
reality. Insanity. Lunacy. All of it fit in this scenario as he manhandled me
and I bent to his will.

He shook me hard and I opened my eyes,
meeting his glacial blue gaze. “On your knees, pretty.” Then he dropped me a
wink and pushed firmly on my shoulders until my knees unhinged and I could only
drop to the cold dirty wooden floor with a thud and a cry.

“Please, mister,” I whispered. My
voice caught in my throat--a wet watery mess of nerves and shame. “I don’t want
to.” But I licked my lips, belying what was swirling around inside my head--at
my true emotions. He just smiled.

“Open wide and say, ah,” he said. His
zipper a buzz saw in my ears, his skin smelled of spice and car oil. He pushed
the head of his flushed cock to my bottom lip and pressed.

I sealed my lips, squeezed my eyes
shut. Squeezed my knees together, too, to try and tame the traitorous thump of
arousal between my legs.

“Open.” He pushed harder, slapped my
face and a hot sting of pain coursed along my cheek, blazed across my scalp so
that I felt each shaft of hair that grew from my head. I sobbed and when my
mouth opened, he slid his cock past my lips with a thrust of his hips. I tried
to breathe, shifted against the steady pulse between my legs.

He pushed deep, gagging me before I
could catch my breath. My nipples spiked, my clit throbbed. I shook my head but
allowed myself a brief moment to savor the thrill. My eyes wet with tears, he
fucked my mouth, forcing me to suck harder. His thumb bit into my chin as he
turned my face to his liking. A surreal bright light from the house filled my
vision, blinding me. “I like it when your makeup runs like that.” He pulled
free and I arched forward for just a second, chasing him with my mouth. Was he
done?

He trailed the wet head of his cock
down the wet mess of my mascara and chuckled. “Something for flavor,” he said, forcing
back inside my mouth. Holding my chin again like I was a horse under
inspection. I sucked in a breath through my nose and it was full of the scent
of him. My ears full of the sound of him. My skin burning with the rough grasp
of his skin on mine.

He yanked my hair, gathering two big
handfuls and tugging until fire burned across my scalp. My chest shook with
unleashed sobs. I had to stay calm, had to. What would he do to me if I freaked
out? I didn’t want to know.

When he got bored making me gag, he hauled
me to my feet. When he kissed me, his lips coming at me through the hole in the
dark knit that allowed for a mouth, I wanted to scream. But his hand held fast
to the front of my throat, an unspoken threat, and his tongue shoved against my
tongue replacing his cock. The kiss was no less brutal than his dick had been.
Big fingers trapped my pulse under the skin, marking off each beat of my heart.

I was spinning again, the world off
balance at his will. An oversized rag doll solely for his pleasure. His hands
shoved me and he tugged the rope around my wrists so they bent awkwardly,
painful enough to make me scream. My hips slammed to the old sofa, my pussy
slick with fear and something more. I kicked out and he took his boot, pressing
my foot back down. It landed in the small pile of dark fabric that used to be
my leggings.

“Watch it, missy. I
will
hurt
you.” To prove his words, he pinched brutally hard at the very top of my thigh.
The place where the skin is most fragile, like tissue paper rubbed nearly
translucent. His fingernails bit right below my bottom not even a finger’s
length from my wet opening. I shivered under him, then his presence was gone. A
vacuum created in the air by the removal of his bulk. I tried to see but
couldn‘t twist enough. The air was cold against my skin. My heartbeat filled my
head.

“Whatever you want. Whatever you
want.” I could hear my voice thrusting the words out at him. Scratchy and raw,
I sobbed them out like a mantra. A broken record. A department store recording
stuck in a loop. “I promise. Whatever you want.” And I meant it.

“I want pussy,” he said and laughed.
The laugh scared me more than his rage. So foreign, so detached. He kneed my
legs wider apart, shoved me forward. I tottered over the arm of the couch,
spread to him. His little broken toy.

Tracing the curve of my bottom with a
ragged fingernail, he hummed. There was another rush of warm fluid between my
thighs. The tip of his cock ran the seam of my wet slit, I pressed back.

I would do anything.

Fingers gripped me, cock slamming home
so that my face grated the harsh plaid sofa cushion. “You’re such a little
whore, you know that? Look how wet you are. You were just asking for it.” His
fingers probed my ass, sparking that dull bite of pain that can never be escaped
with anal. “I bet you’d come if I fucked you up the ass.”

The first hot coil of orgasm grew in
my cunt. A gathering pleasant tightening that filled my belly, my pelvis. I
shook my head no, no, but he pushed his finger a bit deeper. Slow. No
lubrication. Slow so I felt every insistent little pinch of pain. “I bet you
would.”

“No.”

His cock slammed higher. The wet
sounds of his fucking me seemed so loud. His length brushed every bundle of
nerves. I held my breath as the orgasm swelled bigger and brighter inside of
me. His cock slid through the shameful moisture of my outrageous arousal.
“Yes,” I said before I could stop myself. My fingers gripped at themselves.
Bound behind my back as they were, helpless but restless  Playing tug of war
with each other as I tried to hold it off. Do not come. Do
not
come.

“Yes.” He fucked me harder.

“No.” It was wrong.

“You’re going to come,” he hissed,
pounding into me. He pinched me and I sobbed. He pushed his finger deeper in my
ass. When my cunt went tighter around his thrusting cock he laughed. When he
laughed the orgasm crept closer. A dark liquid monster that I tried not to
welcome. And failed.

He grabbed a handful of my hair,
yanked so that my neck twisted and my vision dimmed. “Come for me, whore.”

“No!” But there it was--sneaking in,
filling me like warm black water. I bit my lip, drawing blood.

“ You know you want to,” he said in a
serial killer sing-song. The tiny hairs on my arms stood up. He froze
¾
his
breath all I could hear
¾
before plunging in rough and high so
the tips of my toes left the dirty wooden porch. “Fuck yes, you do. You want
to. Don‘t lie.”

And I did want to. I came, let go and
fell under. Salty tears wetting my cheeks, fingers bent double over one another
behind my back. Twisting and turning under him at the mercy of my orgasm. There
was not enough air in my lungs. There was not enough air in the
world
.
All of me lost to the roar in my ears and the jagged unkempt beat of my heart.
My pussy spasming with the very perfect, very intense pleasure.

My captor came, curses flying from his
lips before he dropped his hands and his head.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Ember. Are you
trying to kill me?” Damien tore off the knit cap, eyes still shiny, face slick
with sweat. He grinned. “Like that?”

I could only nod, my head only partly
turned to see him. My nose and one eye still pressed to the cushion. My heart
rate pulled back a bit so I could breathe. My mind a pleasant white fuzz of
cotton gauze and nerve endings still firing from my climax. “Like that.”

“I did good?” He cut the bonds and
help me stand, opened his mouth to speak.

Before he could, I kissed him. “Shut
up Damien or you’ll ruin the whole damn thing.”