0 comments/ 22005 views/ 3 favorites Amethyst By: Coltrane (Author's note: This story was written for a friend. It is intended as a companion for a series of photographs.) * * * * * Amethyst smiled to herself as she watched the flame in the fireplace begin to take the fresh log. The flame flicked under the piece of wood from the starter log behind it. Flicking, she told herself, flicking. Much like the touch of a finger, or perhaps a tongue. The new scented candles loosed an interesting relaxing smell that mixed comfortably with the music drifting through the room. Jazz, new old jazz, something about a softer side of Coltrane. She poured the chilled wine into a long-stemmed glass and sat down near the fire. The fire warmed her through her new white dress. It felt good. Her workday had been productive although routine, but it wasn't work or business that held her thoughts there beside the fire. It was the evening to come. The wine was good to the taste, it's bouquet fine and correct. She sipped it and thought of the woman coming to visit. Her smile kissed the rim of her wineglass as she pictured the evening to come. Would Brooke make the first move, she wondered? Or would it be better for her to act first? Neither of them had ever had a woman as a lover. They had shared that admission. Would they really do it? Could they? How quickly one can discover such things, she told herself sitting there remembering. How quickly when two people with a common, unsatisfied interest get to know each other. She had liked Brooke immediately. They had become fast friends over quick lunches and laughs at the computer in the office. A few drinks, a few phone calls, maybe too many drinks one particular night, but once they began to talk, their feeling just simply poured out to each other. The ideas and the suggestions followed soon after. Amethyst sipped her wine by the fire and told herself she had no doubt that she would act, she would make love to Brooke, she would fuck her in all of the ways she had imagined and fantasized about, provided, of course, that Brooke was willing. Would she be, really be willing, even after all the talk and shared fantasies? Would she be? Amethyst intended to find out. The antique clock in the living room struck eight and for some reason Amethyst was reminded of something she had intended to do. The comfort, the gray comfort she'd bought last year, it was in the hall closet, she thought. She wanted to find it and use it beside the fireplace with Brooke. She could spread it on the floor for a nice place to play. If she had it handy beside the sofa, she wouldn't have to go looking for it later. She got up and sat her wine on the hearth, careful not to sit it so close that the nice chill would be disturbed. The walk down the hall told her just how wet her pussy had become sitting beside the fire. With no panties for hindrance her warm juices had already begun to flow down the inside of each of her thighs. The wetness made her wiggle a bit as she walked. The hall closet was packed with stored clothing and boxes, but she knew the gray comfort was there somewhere. With the door wide open, she squatted there to look low behind the hanging clothes. The moment she squatted the signals arrived: very excited pussy, very excited clit. With her legs and knees open, her pussy was completely uncovered and open beneath the dress. Spotting the comfort she pulled it near her but didn't rise. There was no hesitation at all as her index finger slid softly up the full length of her swollen, wet pussy, no hesitation as the finger found the throbbing nub of her clit, no hesitation as the wet finger painted circles there, teasing, playing, promising. The doorbell startled her and she rose, almost tripping over the comfort folded at her feet. She reached down and grabbed it before walking quickly and wetly toward the front door. She turned in the den doorway and looked in at the fireplace. Nice fire, she told herself, as she tossed the comfort on the floor beside the leather chair. A few more steps and she was at the door. Opening it, she found Brooke. Brooke stood there smiling, her eyes fixed and relaxed, the short black dress she wore was not possibly more than six inches below her crotch. Amethyst smiled back completing their smile greeting. No words. As much as they had chattered and laughed, now they couldn't or wouldn't speak. But neither of them broke the silence, or their smiles. Amethyst simply stepped back from the doorway and let Brooke walk by into the house. The scent of her perfume hung subtly in the air as she passed, reminding Amethyst of the wetness chilling on her inner thighs. Brooke walked down the hall with Amethyst's eyes devouring her every move, every curve, every flex of her body beneath the tight black dress. No words passed between them as they found themselves at the breakfast bar, perhaps six feet from the fireplace, amidst the candles' scent and the waif of the music winding through the dim light of the den. Amethyst poured Brooke some wine into a matching glass before refilling her own. They both sipped and smiled at each other, both wondering, it appeared, whether or how it all would begin. It began when Amethyst reached out and touched Brooke's face lightly with her fingertips. Her long slender fingers moved lightly over Brooke's left cheek, down along the line of her jawbone, around the gentle angle of her chin, upward slowly to her lips. Brooke's smile parted and the tip of her tongue greeted Amethyst's fingertips. The touch of the tongue sent shutters down Amethyst's back, down over her ass, down each of her legs, down into the floor, she thought. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She didn't see Brooke step closer, move against her body, place her face only inches away. When Amethyst's eyes opened they found Brooke's. Brooke kissed her then. Softly, gently. Neither of the two of them had ever kissed another woman on the lips. Not like this. But there was no hesitation, no fumbling. Brooke's tongue moved easily into Amethyst's mouth and found a receptive playmate. Their arms entwined and they took each other, arms finding places to hold, hands wanting to roam but waiting, lips pushing harder against lips, sharing breath and quiet moans. "Come with me," Amethyst whispered, reluctantly breaking the kiss but wanting, wanting everything. Amethyst took Brooke's hand and led her to the middle of the floor directly in front of the fireplace. The gray comfort was only two steps away and was found easily. It was spread with a bit of a flourish as Brooke watched smiling. No more words were necessary as they resumed the embrace, the kiss, the touch. Amethyst hands were at the small of Brooke's back, gathering the dress, raising it as they kissed. Fingers discovered bare skin where panties might have been. They moved downward, fingernails grazing over the soft, firm skin, grazing downward until they cupped the cheeks of her ass. Brooke responded in kind until they both possessed the other's ass, possessed it with their hands, coming to know it as they had hoped. It was something of a lovers' dance when they lifted each other's dress, swaying to the music as they were, kissing, licking, tasting as they went, dresses rising higher, skin finding skin, soft tuffs of hair finding their match, nipples finally finding nipples. Upward each dress went, over each head and off, until they were naked in kind, naked together. Knees bent and they went down on the comfort, Brooke on her back, Amethyst on her side. The kiss was broken. The moment was for touching and exploring and feeling. Eyes held eyes but wandered to see, to learn. Amethyst gently took Brooke's hand from her breast and move it away. "Please," she whispered, reaching for the wine glass forgotten on the hearth above her. As Brooke watched, Amethyst took a sip of the wine and leaned down to kiss and share. Her tongue moved inside her new lover's mouth, tasting of wine, cool white wine mixed with white-hot passion. Her mouth moved from Brooke's lips and began to kiss slowly down her neck, the tip of her cool tongue tracing lines over the soft skin, downward over the collarbone, downward in irregular patterns over her upper chest, her breast. Brooke watched again as Amethyst took more wine in her mouth, watched the mischievous smile descend to her nipples, felt the cool tongue again, cooler now, taking each of her nipples, painting cool circles around them as they grew and hardened. More wine; more circles. More kisses. More gentle sucking. Brooke's eyes closed and she drifted into the blackness of the sensations. Amethyst embraced the thrill of experience. The rush of it made her mind race with things she wanted to do, things she wanted to feel and taste, but she reminded herself to be patient, to be patient as a good lover must. With wineglass in hand she left Brooke's nipples and began to let her tongue travel downward over the smooth belly, around and inside the pouting navel, downward further over the freshly shaped pubic hair, downward until her mouth and tongue could tease the smooth upper thighs in front of her. The thighs parted for her in invitation. Amethyst smiled and shifted her position, moving between those thighs as they parted, wine glass still in hand as she took in her first close view of a place she had never visited, a woman's pussy, Brooke's pussy. Brooke was beautiful, she told herself, beautiful. Her pussy lips were shining in the candle light, wet, swollen, thick, wanting to be opened and pleased. Brooke was shaven there between her legs, so smooth and clean. The tuft of brown pubic hair was left above, completing such an enticing picture, perhaps its triangular shape was a simple beacon to what resided at the small triangle's apex. Looking up, Amethyst saw Brooke watching her. Their eyes met and held as Amethyst tipped the wineglass slightly and let the cool liquid drip onto the hood covering Brooke's clit. Brooke flinched with a bit of a start but then settled feeling the wine run down her pussy, between the cheeks of her ass, and onto the comfort below her. Now, Amethyst told herself, yes. She leaned forward until she was on her stomach, forward until her warm breath met the chill of the wine on Brooke's skin, forward until she could touch her with her tongue if she wanted. Brooke felt the first touch of Amethyst's tongue at the base of her pussy, low between her legs. The touch of the tongue was so light, so faint, but yet so distinct as it slowly began to rise upward over her pussy, spreading her lips, opening her. She took in a deep breath and heard herself sigh as the tongue entered her. And the tongue fucked her, a woman's tongue, a tongue like no other that had ever touched her there, touched her pussy. And the tongue licked her, licked her gently like no other tongue had. So different, so good. Her hips moved to find the tongue, to fuck back, to get involved, but the tongue avoided her and moved up to find her clit. It flicked over her there, over her clit, over and around her clit, making her throb harder and swell. Amethyst slid a finger inside Brooke as she made love to her clit. With the wine and saliva and pussy juices running down her, it was just a matter of doing it to slide a finger in her ass as well. Two fingers filled Brooke, two fingers fucked her, as Amethyst sucked on her clit harder. Brooke came then, her hips rising up to get everything she could, to receive, to take, just to somehow get everything. Amethyst left her clit and dropped her mouth lower to lick and suck away the juices that flowed around her finger in Brooke's pussy. The fingers in Brooke's pussy and ass held themselves still as they were gripped and released, then gripped and released again in the spasm of an orgasm. Amethyst listened to the whimper of her new lover as she moved her face back and let her fingers slowly withdraw. She slowly kissed her way up the body below her, Brooke's body, until she found the mouth she wanted to kiss. They kissed quietly in the dim light and mellow music because they didn't need to speak. And they had the night in front of them, all of it. Amethyst Tara shot up from the bed into a sitting position. Her body was covered in a sheen of sweat. Her eyes were searching wildly around the room. She felt as though she was being watched. Her eyes shifted to the window. Through the frosted glass, she could see that another fresh coat of snow had fallen. She pulled the tangled covers from her legs and got up from the bed. She softly padded over to the window. Winter was her favorite season. She had preserved her best memory of her father within the season of winter. She closed her eyes and her father's smile as he lay in the thick snow beside her while they attempted to form snow angels filled her mind. A cloudy day in December in the backyard. She giggled merrily as she flailed her arms and legs about wildly. She looked over and saw her father doing the same. She laughed until her body shook with full belly laughs. They both jumped up to admire their work. She was eight years old. She hadn't seen her father in almost sixteen years. Tears stung her eyes as she could still picture his face so vividly. Most people who knew him, claims she's a spitting image of him. She looked to the large mirror that hung on her bedroom wall. Her bright hazel eyes, pale skin, and dark auburn hair were very similar to her father. She shivered when she glanced at the light layering of freckles than coated her cheeks. Too much like him. She let a single tear drop before squeezing her eyes shut tightly and willing them away. You're an adult for God's sake, pull it together, she admonished herself. Tara's eyes shot open as she felt that strange sensation again. She felt like she was being watched. She peered out the frosty window once more before turning to go back to her bed. She yawned sleepily and crawled back into the warmth and comfort of the thick afghan blanket she so loved. She was just on the brink of peaceful slumber when she heard it. The sound she heard resembled that of a low growl. She knew that wildlife inhabited this part of the woods, but she'd never come in contact with animals (save the raccoons that sift through her trash cans). Raccoons surely don't growl though. Tara jumped out of the bed and cautiously approached the window. Her eyes moved over the trees and shrubbery. That's when she saw him. There a several feet from the her cabin stood a very large wolf. The wolf's fur was as white as the snow around him. The wolf was watching her. She gasped and took a step from the window. The wolf slowly moved closer until, finally, its nose bumped the glass. She gazed at him in amazement. The wolf's eyes were eerily intelligent and curious. His breath created a small spot of fog on the window. Those strange dark eyes displayed another emotion she couldn't pinpoint. The giant wolf made a whimpering sound, one that pulled at Tara's heart. Suddenly, she noticed the dark blotches in the wolf's fur. He'd been hurt! She wasn't sure what to do, but she knew she had to do something. She moved closer to the window and gently placed her hand on the glass. She felt a light bump against as the wolf pressed his wet nose against the glass beneath her palm. She quickly removed her hand. This whole situation was strange. Wolves aren't supposed to be friendly, they are predators. Maybe he's someone's pet... But Tara knew this wolf was no one's pet. This wolf was different. He had to be at least three times that of an average wolf. And he wore no collar. She shivered. But not from fear. The wolf sat there watching intently through slightly pained eyes before whimpering and bumping the glass with his nose. She had to do something. She quickly moved down the hall to the front room. She grabbed her jacket and boots, and swiftly sliding them on, made her way the front door. She took a deep breath. Gosh, Tara, what are you doing? You're about to let a wild wolf into your home. Shaking the thoughts out of her head, she unlocked and unbolted the door. She stepped out into the night. The snow had stopped falling hours ago. The only sound was the crunching of the snow beneath her boots and her shaky breathing. She stood for a moment, surrounded by the calm. She saw the slightest movement to her left. She turned and there he was. The wolf slowly paced toward her. She noticed that he was limping. Swallowing the lump in her throat, along with the temptation to run, she moved toward him cautiously. She saw the dark blood that tainted the snow every step he took. "You poor thing," she whispered. As if the wolf understood her, he whimpered. She hesitantly placed her hand on his giant head, petting him gently. His snow white fur was so soft. The wolf leaned his head into her hand. Her mind was racing. She'd finally made up her mind. "Come here, boy," she said gently and somewhat awkwardly. The wolf (as though he'd understood her) limped after her as she led him back to the cabin. Once she had ushered the wolf inside, she was at loss for what to do. The wolf turned and stared at her with those soulful eyes. She became immobilized under that dark gaze. She attempted unsuccessfully to swallow the large lump in throat. Then she remembered he was hurt. She rushed to the bathroom and retrieved the tin tub from underneath the sink. She filled it with warm water and one of her various bubble-bath mixtures. When she returned back to the den, she found the wolf lying on his side whimpering. She sat the tub down next to him and ran back to get a towel and the first-aid kit she'd never used. At least it'll be good for something other than collecting dust, she thought. She returned to the wolf and began cleansing his blood-soaked white fur. Underneath the blood, she found multiple deep claw marks. "What did this to you?" she asked aloud. She winced and so did the wolf as she poured the antiseptic over the wound. The wolf growled deeply as she patched up the wound while trying her best to apply only the slightest bit of pressure. Tara let out a shaky breath. She'd never dressed a wound before. She sat back to admire her work. Not too bad. She stood (after vigorously scrubbing at the dark blood stains on the floor with the old rag) and carried the tub back to the bathroom. She was aware of the wolf's eyes on her the entire time, choosing not to meet those dark eyes for fear she might become even more unnerved. Emptying and then storing the tub back under the sink, Tara heaved a sigh and massaged her lower back, for the tub was not very light in weight when filled with water. When she turned around, there was the wolf in the doorway. He watched her with those dark, intelligent eyes. She audibly gulped. What now? She dropped to her knees in front of the wolf and reached to pet him. The wolf closed his eyes as her hand stroked the soft fur around its neck. Tara smiled. He's like a giant puppy. He opened his eyes again. In the light of the bathroom, she could see that his eyes were lighter than she'd first thought. She gasped, "Those eyes..." They were odd, almost a violet color. Tara had never heard of wolves with eyes that color. She thought of the word amethyst while staring into those eyes. Amethyst...Ameth for short. Yes. That's what I'll name you, she thought. "Ameth..." The wolf licked her palm and she giggled. She then let out a jaw-splitting yawn. She went to the linen closet and grabbed some comforters. She laid out a pallet on the floor of her bedroom. Ameth followed her there, his nose bumping the small of her back. She chuckled as she couldn't get over how out-of-place he looked in her tiny cabin. He plopped down on the pallet and watched her as she snuggled down into the warm of her bed. "Goodnight, Ameth," She murmured sleepily. She heard a faint growl in return before finally sleep took her. Amethyst: a Story of Fulfilment Leading an Idealistic Lifestyle [This may be the conclusion of the sequence of stories starting with 'Velvet: a Story of Obedience Ch. 1; we'll see. Whatever, I have to admit that this is the story that is closest to my own heart -- I only wish that my life had been like this. fp] I think I must be one of the happiest men ... women ... people alive. I scarcely know what I am any more; neither do I care. My beloved friend Garnet shares that same opinion with regard to his ... her own position. I'm quite sure that our companions, Opal and Sapphire, are also absolutely content with the situation in which we all four now find ourselves -- the feminised attendants of four powerful, strict and dominant, but benevolent, mistresses. This wasn't always the case with Sapphire, who had had the temerity to aspire to a dominant role and had to be conditioned into a proper and respectful servitude, by Mistress Amber and Mistress Jet. A large part of Sapphire's aspiration to control was, already a covert transvestite, his immediate and full time assumption of a female personality and a feminine mode of dress and deportment. It was that assumption on his part that led to the three of us -- Garnet, Opal and my self -- also publicly assuming female personalities, with appropriate female attire, albeit initially only par time, in our dealings with him: Garnet in his position as a submissive, alongside Sapphire's sister Emerald, and Topaz; Opal and myself in assisting Mistress Amber and Mistress Jet in his re-education into his proper masculine subservience. One thing That our mistresses decided to continue, from Sapphire's time in control; was that we should all continue to use the sobriquets conferred upon us, at that time, and that we should also continue to dress in the prescribed colours -- as appropriate to those names. Each one of the four of we feminised males has our own particular role in the shared household, plus the additional responsibility of being personal maid to one of our mistresses. I am personal maid to my darling, beautiful, adored Miss Topaz. Garnet serves Mistress Amber with equal enthusiasm; Opal and Sapphire serve Miss Emerald and Mistress Jet respectively. [The evolvement of the ménage at Farnham Royal can be found in 'Velvet: a Story of Obedience, Parts 1 to 4'; 'Garnet: a Story of Submission, Parts 1 to 3'; and, 'Topaz; A story of Restoration, Part 1 and 2' fp] Amethyst Deflowered Her name was Amethyst, named after the birthstone for the month of February, most people simply called her "Tess." It was the only thing her mother ever gave her, the name. Her coal black hair and violet eyes made the name make more sense, seeing as she was born in September. Tess grew up with her grandparents, her mother, often referred to as a whore, was just 14 when she had gotten pregnant with Tess. Soon after her birth, her mother had ran away and she was left with her strict, close-minded grandparents to raise. Grams and Gramps reminded her constantly of the sinful way she was brought into this world, of the dangers men brought to young women. She attended church 4 times a week, Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings, Wednesday evenings, and Thursday youth group. She never cut her hair or wore pants, only long dresses and skirts that went to her ankles. Tess was constantly teased through out school, for her type of dress and mousy personality. High school was much worse, girls her age were having sex with boys her age and she was labeled a tease, or an ice queen. Never allowed to date, or receive phone calls from the opposite sex, she led a sheltered, innocent life. Upon turning 18, she happily moved out of her grandparents house with the earnings she had saved from the part time job she held the last 3 years. Tess had barely spent a dime, waiting for the day she could escape her grandparent's critical looks and strict ways. She didn't earn a lot as a waitress at the local drive inn restaurant, but planned to move into management and work full time after completing high school. The tiny apartment she rented was one large room, with a small kitchen, bathroom and closet. Second hand stores and yard sales became her means of furnishing her new home. Tess accumulated a hide-a-bed sofa, small TV, and a few small tables that didn't quit match. She was proud of her new life, starting over. When she started wearing blue jeans to work, and cut a few inches off her long, waist length hair, she felt more like her own person. She smiled more, and hence made more tips. The boss gave her the night shift management job, and she thought things were just going to keep going her way. Though she didn't have the guts to accept any of her recent date offers, even those from familiar regulars at the restaurant, she knew she would one day, when she was ready. 18 years of fear instilled in her from her grandparents kept her on her guard whenever men approached her. She was determined not to end up like her mother, young, unmarried, and pregnant. Tess came home late every night, the restaurant closing at midnight, she stayed until it was cleaned up, paperwork done, deposit made, and all the other employees safely gone before she locked up and headed home herself. The bicycle she rode back in forth every day would do for now, but she'd have to save up for a used car before the weather turned cold. Wheeling her 10 speed to her front door she unlocked it and headed inside. Flicking on the lights, she then stripped out of her clothing and headed for the shower. After a long time under the hot, steamy water, she slipped on her robe, not bothering to comb out her hair tonight, and tucked herself into her hide-a-bed. Lights out and crickets singing in the distance, she fell into a self-satisfying slumber. A few hours later, a noise jolted her from her dreams. Tess went to click the lamp beside the bed on, nothing. 'Light bulb blew' she thought, sitting up and looking around. Nothing. She chided herself for being such a wimp and laid back down. Moments later she felt a weight on her bed followed by a hand covering her mouth. She grabbed at the wrist, trying to pull it off her face, and screaming against it. "Do as I say and I won't have to hurt you" came a deep voice out of the darkness. Still gripping at his arm, she struggled to sit up, he held her down easily with his one strong limb. Tess could see his head now, covered in a black ski mask, peering at her with the most intense blue eyes. They were cold as steel, piercing as they stared at her hungrily. "You want to do this the hard way huh?" came the deep , threatening voice. His hand moved away but was quickly replaced by a large piece of duct tape. A loud ripping noise echoed through the apartment before the next piece of tape was wrapped around her wrists. Eyes wide with terror, she twisted and turned, trying to wiggle free. He straddled her, his weight keeping her in place. She could almost feel him grinning at her behind his mask. Blacked, gloved hands gripped both sides of her robe, tearing it open to reveal her perk, white breasts. He inhales sharply, then whistled , "Your more beautiful then I had imagined." Wiggling and hitting him with her bound fists, she got him to take his eyes off her body for a moment. Another ripping sound and her bound wrists were taped to the top bar of the hide-a-bed. She pulled against the bar, hopelessly struggling for freedom, Tess's mind raced. He backed up off her for a moment, completely opening her thin robe. He drank her in, bit by bit, studying each curve and angle of her body. She clenched her eyes tightly shut, willing herself to ignore the scrutiny. When he removed his black leather gloves, and began to run his hands over the sides of her tiny body, she couldn't stand it. Tess wiggled and whimpered against her gag. This seemed only to encourage him. He lifted himself off the bed, undressed except for his ski mask, and returned. The soft light from the bathroom illuminated his body. The very first naked man's body she had ever seen. Sure, she knew where babies came from, but had never seen such instruments of reproduction. He was tall, at least half a foot taller than her 5'5 frame, and big, perhaps 175 pounds compared to her tiny 110. His penis, long, thick, erect seemed to be pointing at her, choosing her. Hot tears sprang to her eyes and ran zig-zagged paths down her cheeks. "Shhhh, little one" came the deep voice, as he settled himself next to her on the creaking mattress., stroking her black hair away from her face. She turned her face away from him, staring at the front door. It was so close, but undeniably unreachable. He seemed undeterred as he caressed her soft face with the back of his hand. Moving downwards, touching her lightly as a feather, he traced the out line of her collar bone, between her breast, around her breast, down her taunt, flat tummy, reaching for what was hidden behind the mounds of black curls. She squirmed again, whimpering against duct tape. Forcing her legs open by prying apart her knees with both strong hand, he settled himself between her legs, breathing her in. Eyes closed and fists clenched, she tried uselessly to close her legs. A tongue touched her lightly on her clit, and she tried to jump away. A low chuckle was his response before he continued his assault. Next, he lapped her pussy, first slow, teasing, then deeper, jabbing his tongue into her. He tasted her, treasured her. Then he began to insert one finger into her tight, virgin, hole. He felt her stretching, adjusting to this invasion. He worked the finger in and out, as her body responded on it's own, lightly lubing his way. Another finger was added, in the same manner. Finally, a third, Tess felt as if she was stretched to her limit. The awkward pain / pleasure made her want to move away, to stop the unknown from happening. He continued to finger fuck her, licking her clit from time to time, until he felt she was ready for him. Crouching between her legs, steeling her open for him with his knees, he began to guide his rock hard cock into her damp, tight pussy. Slowly pressing the head in, giving her body a moment to accept him, he then pushed further and further until he reached her hymen. Pulling out slightly, he leaned down to whisper a warning into her ear. "This will hurt, but only for a moment, if you relax and let it happen, it will be much easier on you.." Hatred stabbed at him from her violet eyes, she pulled at her binds as one last act of defiance. He shook his head, and began to push himself deeper into her. She could feel herself tearing, burning, as he continued. Suddenly, with one hard thrust, he broke through her hymen, and into her soul. The pain was intense, she screamed against her gag, pulling wildly against the duct tape around her wrists. He leaned down again, saying huskily, "I'm sorry, my sweet, it had to be done. Relax now and let me make you feel better." . His hard cock pumped into her swollen, bleeding pussy, faster and faster now. She could feel the pain slowly die away, replace with a tingling, an incredible dizzy sensation. As she forced herself to lay back, waiting for it to end, he continued. Grabbing her hips, he brought her waist upwards to meet his every thrust. God! She was so tight, she felt so good! Using his thumb in a circular motion, he massaged her clit as he fucked her harder and harder. His balls bouncing off her tight ass, sweat pouring down his face under the ski mask. She was responding and that made him more determined. Pussy getting wetter, he could feel the slick juice on his dick. She felt it too, unsure of what was happening, but knowing it was too late to stop it. An intensity was building within her, increasing with every stroke of him. Her head lolled back and forth, her hips coming up to meet his thrusts on their own now. Suddenly her eyes flew open, she was sure she was about to explode as she had her first, amazing orgasm. Feeling her pussy clench up around him, squeezing him, milking him, he could hold out no longer. With a mighty roar, he threw back his head and came. Thick, white, cum, filling her up, splashing against her cervix. Continuing to pump slower, as his orgasm faded, he looked down at her. Tess opened her eyes, cautiously, and found his piercing , ice blue ones staring back at her. He read the shame and embarrassment, making a lame attempt to remove blame. "This wasn't your fault, it was mine. I watched you for so long, wanted you for so long, I couldn't help myself. I needed to do this. Maybe now that I've had you, I'll be able to get you out of my head.." She looked away again, not wanting to hear anymore. Her assailant moved off the bed, the mattress creaking loudly in the silent apartment. He dressed, then pulled out a shiny, silver knife. Tess thought for a moment that he meant to kill her now, but he used it to cut her free. Rubbing her wrists, she then ripped the duct tape from her mouth and pulled her blankets up to her chin. She watched him walk to the door, open it, turning around to look at her one last time, before he disappeared into the night, leaving her confused, defiled, and alone.