Safeword: Matte (8 page)

He reached towards a nightstand and pulled out four leather cuffs and began securing one of them on her right wrist.

“These have connections so I can connect them to each other if I need to. Once I have them on you, we’re going to go outside and mark off a section of the yard we'll remain in. You can think of it as a cage, if you like. Then I'm going to fuck you, hard and fast and without any more prep. When I'm done fucking you, I'm going to string you up on the screened in porch and flog you until my shoulders and arms are too tired to do it any longer, and then I'll probably fuck you again while you're restrained in a standing position. Once we've lined out the boundaries in the yard, feel free to fight me to keep me from doing those things to you.”

All four cuffs were on her now, the leather surprisingly lightweight. Each had a small lightweight metal hinged ring – probably aluminum from the feel of it. Not something she could use as a weapon.

He continued speaking. “This cabin sits in the middle of four acres of woods. I've never seen anyone here who wasn't invited. It's almost dark outside, and there’s a storm coming. No one will be walking in the woods. The grass is soft. I'm fine barefoot, but you’re welcome to wear your sport sandals if you wish.”

He stood up and walked to the nightstand to get a few condoms, then walked out of the room, leaving her in the bed. She decided to take him up on the offer of shoes; she was a tenderfoot and besides, the shoes would give her something more to kick with. She'd seen Tom hit Ethan full force and he took it, which meant she could truly fight him, all out. This wasn't going to be a spar, this was going to be a fight to a simulated rape, and he was going to unmercifully fuck her with his wicked cock if she lost. When she lost.

She put her shoes on, used the bathroom again, pulled her hair into a ponytail and then pulled it in on itself to shorten it, and went outside.

He had a spray can, painting the grass white in a large circle, an area with no trees or other obstructions. “This is chalk paint; it’ll wash away when it rains, but it’s not raining yet.”

He stood as he finished the wobbly circle. He had his serious look again.

“Some ground rules. The goal is for me to fuck you. I’ll try it without resorting to the cuffs, but realistically, with the need for a condom, the cuffs are probably going to be needed. My goal is to not hurt you worse than would be acceptable in a workout spar. That's the handicap, and it's why the cuffs have to be an option. You don’t have to pull your punches. I’ve seen you spar, and you weren’t hitting full force. You can hit me full force, fight me as if you’re fighting a rapist. I can take it, and you know I can. If you hurt me worse than I'd be hurt in a spar then congrats. I’d like to request there be no groin or kidney strikes, or kicks to the knees from the front or side – those are the only concessions I'm asking for. If you can manage a flying kick to the head then feel free. Any questions?”

There was a white stripe of tape going around his forearm. “What's on your arm?”

“First aid tape holding a condom onto my arm so it’ll be handy when I need it. I should probably call that off limits too – leave it in place, don't get rid of it on purpose.”

She nodded and said, “I think we need to acknowledge we both have a safeword. I'm not going to fight you at this level unless I know you can stop the action with a word as well.”

He nodded. “Fair enough, we'll both use
matte
, then.
Matte
makes everything stop, no matter who says it.”

“I'm sore. I'm not sure I can handle you again so soon.”

He gave a half smile and said, “Consider it as incentive to hold me off as long as possible. I'm claiming you tonight, Samantha. I want it to hurt; I want you to know you belong to me as much as I belong to you. Most of all I want you to know I've earned the title of the man who owns you.” He waited a beat and said, “Trust me to know the difference in a good hurt and a bad hurt. It's not my intention to hurt you in a bad way.”

She grinned at him, knowing it would work out just fine, though she'd needed the assurance from him. “If you think you can take me then here I am.”

He relaxed his body and sauntered towards her. “Of course I can have you. You're mine. I just fucked you, remember? Me buried to the hilt in that pretty pussy of yours?”

It almost worked. It almost made her just agree with him and go into his arms. Almost. She really was sore, really was afraid of how sex would feel with him right now, especially when he'd promised to be brutal this time.

Spinning on the ball of her foot, rolling her body around his so she was behind him, she felt her hand hit hard surface as she punched him in the back of the bicep at an angle she knew would frog it with him not expecting it. It felt good to punch with all her might, and she followed it up with a kick to the back of his leg just below the knee before moving away from him. He didn't go down, but when he turned around he spun on the other leg, and he looked impressed. “This is going to be fun.”

He came at her fast and she sidestepped him, barely making it. She knew he was cataloging her moves, but that was okay because she was doing the same with him. She had the upper hand here, she'd seen him fight, had even studied his fighting so she could help Tom figure out how to fight him, and he'd only seen her spar the one time. Of course, he was eight inches taller than her and a hundred and twenty pounds heavier, but size wasn't everything. Lucky for her, she knew how to use someone's size against them. The trick was going to be to keep him from grabbing her. She would have to be quick, go in and get out, staying close only long enough to put him on the run before backing up.

Knowing better than to telegraph her plans, she got into position to sidestep him again, and watched him come at her. This time instead of sidestepping, she altered her stance at the last minute, shifting her weight and grabbing for him as he came, using his own momentum against him. A split second later he was lying flat on his back and she was moving away from him again.

He rose up on one elbow, one knee bent so he looked totally at home, lounging naked in the grass, a pleased and very relaxed smile. “Oh, so that's the way you want to play. Okay, we can do that, too.”

The next time he came at her she went into what Randy called her “rabid weed-eater impersonation,” punching and slicing and kicking until he backed off. She wasn't going to get cocky about it, she knew he could take her down with a few well-placed punches. So far he hadn't punched or kicked at all, just tried to control her. Making him back off didn't mean she was better than him, it just meant she was better than he'd expected.

He rubbed the side of his face and then massaged his ear. “What the hell was that?”

They were on opposite sides of the circle so she stood and relaxed her stance somewhat. “It was me fighting you. So far you've been down and I haven't. Maybe I need to go find a strap-on. Try my luck at fucking you.”

Eyes twinkling as he grinned at her, he said, “Never going to happen, love. But I’ll give you a much deserved compliment – I want you to teach me that combo someday.”

“Sure. But not today.” Looking down at his cock she said, “Are you playing with me until your cock is ready to get hard again? Or are you really having this hard of a time getting your hands on me enough to control me?”

He shook his head. “Not playing with you. My cock will wait until I'm ready for him before he comes to attention.”

They spent the next five or ten minutes feeling each other out, coming together and one or the other of them backing off. She put him on his back once more, but didn't want to risk trying it again because he darn near took control the last time she put him down.

Finally, he came at her and managed to get ahold of her in a way she couldn't escape, and before she knew it she was on her knees with an arm up behind her back and he was behind her. She felt him moving into position and she raised her body up, angling so the hand he was holding wasn't torqued too terribly bad, and slinging her free arm up in the process, catching him in the face with her elbow as she did. She used his momentary surprise to push herself forward and get her feet under her so she could get away. Her arm hurt from being torqued – her fault, not his, as he'd just been holding her still and she was the one who twisted it the wrong way. Her other elbow also hurt, so she knew his face had to be hurting.

When she turned to look at him, he had a full hard-on and the look in his eyes was scary. He stood and stalked his way towards her, and once again, it almost worked. He almost psyched her into just stepping away from the stalking tiger instead of going on the offensive. She heard thunder in the distance and felt sprinkles on her arms as she went at him again, the intention to pull a different version of her rabid weed-eater out again. He powered his face through it this time, and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her into a fireman's carry, slapping her ass a few times. She'd been too focused on striking and left herself open to just being picked up and slung over his shoulder.

She tried to flip herself sideways, then tried to move her body forward enough to fall down his back, but he was ready for all of it. He grabbed her hands and flipped her off and the next thing she knew, her wrist cuffs were locked behind her back. She leaned sideways, working on how to balance with her hands behind her back enough to get a few good kicks in, but he swept her legs and caught her before she hit the ground. She kicked a few times from the ground and managed to make good contact a few times, but within about ten seconds he had her ankle cuffs linked together, too.

Ethan’s shadow fell over her as he stood looking down at her, and she saw the sadist looking out of his eyes as he ripped through the first aid tape and opened the condom package, keeping eye contact as he smoothed it on. The rain started to pick up, an almost steady drizzle now, but neither of them mentioned or acknowledged it. The world had narrowed to the two of them, the warm rain was inconsequential.

He turned her from her side onto her stomach, standing so she couldn’t get to him with her feet to kick him again. Sam wondered how he thought he was going to fuck her with her legs bound together. He placed one foot on either side of her and lowered himself down, his knees squeezing her hips from the sides and his ass resting on her thighs. Sam felt him leaning back, felt her legs being unhooked. Ethan kept her right foot in his hand and gently pulled it towards her body as he lifted his ass off the back of her legs. She felt him release her hands a split second before attaching right wrist to right ankle. Before she knew it, he'd done the same with her left wrist and ankle, and she was on her knees and chest with her legs spread behind her. Her face sideways in the soft grass, which gave enough of a cushion to keep her off of the ground.

She heard and felt him positioning himself behind her, on his knees. She heard him softly say, “You're mine, Samantha,” and felt his cock as he lined it up and began to push.

As soon as his head was past the outer entrance he pushed himself all the way home, and Sam heard herself screaming as he shoved fully into her. She wasn't used to his size anymore, she couldn't take it, she couldn't... fuck, she was taking it, and he wasn't hurting her cervix. She felt every inch of him, spreading her impossibly wide, and coming into her farther than should be possible. It felt as if he were bumping up against the inside of her belly button, but somehow he was catching her g-spot, too, scraping back and forth over it until her orgasm crashed down on her like a tornado crashing through the storm and she came. She knew he had to know she was coming, but he didn't slow down or alter his rhythm, he just kept fucking her right through her orgasm, not changing the brutal tempo in any way. She felt invaded, violated. She couldn't make him stop, with her wrists and ankles restrained to each other there was nothing she could do to stop him. She wanted to fight him, but she couldn't.

He pulled out of her and turned her over, entering her again, but not going all the way in this time. He stopped and looked at her a few seconds before reaching to the side and releasing her left wrist and ankle, then switching hands and releasing her right wrist and ankle. She punched him in the jaw with her right fist and went for his throat with her left but he blocked it at the last moment, just before sinking farther into her pussy with his cock. He grabbed at her arms and missed. Without further thought he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed at them, moving his hands down to her biceps and holding them against the ground so she couldn't do anything with her hands except pound at his shoulders. He put more weight on her biceps and she couldn’t move her arms at all.”

“You’re mine, Samantha. Yield to me.”

“Fuck you.”

“I think we’re already doing that.” No smile, just the sadist looking out at her.

She pulled her legs back and tried to push him away with her feet, but he was this huge immovable object between her legs, holding her arms down. He'd moved his hands down to hers while she was working with her feet, and now he was leaning over her, his hands holding hers in place beside her ears.

He began fucking her in time to his words, so he dragged himself out of her while he said the first part of each sentence and pounded in on the words he wanted to emphasize.

“This pussy is
mine
. Mine to use.
Anytime
I want. You'll yield to me or I'll
take
what’s mine.”