0 comments/ 82003 views/ 15 favorites A Gift of Stilettos By: rockcandie As I sit here in the middle of my bed, my satin comforter drawn up around me, my body begins to quiet its trembling. I'm not sure how long I have been here like this. My legs are cramping up, and a nice stretch feels so good. The wet spots on the bedspread cling to my skin, chilling me. I think about peeling away the sheet and bury my face in my hands, sobbing. All my fear flowing outward, away from me, freeing me at last to think about what's happened in here tonight. As I step under the rain of warm water in my shower, allowing it to return the heat to my body, I recount in my head what went on tonight. I want to retell it the way it happened, to me......how I felt, what I did, and what my future plans are. I reach for my body sponge, unhooking it from the shower wall, and squirting a generous amount of body wash into it, soaping it up, just as I always do. I don't feel the need to scrub any harder, or longer, than I normally would. I find this curious. Is there something wrong with me? This isn't how I have heard it told. I have always heard that rape victims cry and shower over and over, trying to wash away the experience. I do feel stunned. My life has just taken a sharp left turn without my consent. I know that no extra exfoliation is going to help me. No harsh scrubbing or douching will erase any of what's happened to me tonight. But I think perhaps relating the tale may make me feel more.....solid, whole, again. It began as a quiet evening. It had been a wonderful, fun-filled weekend with friends. I met a man that could hold a decent conversation, has a good job, and didn't try to get into my panties on first meeting. This is unusual for me. At least in the end, most men find a way to suggest sex, but not this guy. He was intelligent, polite, well mannered, yet masculine. He wasn't ultra good looking, but that is not on my agenda anyway. I had planned on seeing him again, with the blessings of my friends, but that was not to be. Tonight, when I kicked back on my couch to watch my favorite crime show, I was surprised to hear a knock at my door. My neighborhood is generally safe, so I took a quick peek through the small glass panes in the thick wooden door before opening it. At first I didn't recognize the man standing there. Then, as he smiled, I remembered who he was. He had moved in a few houses down not long ago. His face was honest and friendly, like a big boyscout. He was about my age, perhaps a little older, and quite an average looking man. He held up a nice little gift bag and of course, I swung the door open to greet him. "Hi! I'm sorry to bother you ......" He smiled a bit sheepishly, though the hour wasn't too late for visitors. "No problem. What can I do for you, Mr....?" I smiled warmly, inquiring his name and waving off his apology. "Just call me Oliver." He grinned, disarming me at once. What a nice face and sparkling eyes. "Listen, my phone service isn't hooked up yet and my cellphone died. I can't seem to find the charger in my stuff. Do you think I could , please, use your phone? Just this once?" I invited him in, assuring him that it would be just fine. I remember that happening to me when I moved. That charger was nowhere to be found, until it damned well wanted to be found! If it hadn't been for a kind neighbor, I wouldn't have been able to call in a personal day at work. His phone call was short and he came in from the kitchen within sixty seconds. He was still holding the gift bag, and I was curious. I invited him to sit and have some hot tea, wanting to include him in the loop of neighbors here that rely on each other. If he seemed trustworthy enough, I'd pass a good word along to the neighborhood watch leaders. Strength in numbers, they say. As he sat down, looking around, as people do when they come to a new home, complimenting my taste in decor, he smiled at the offered teacup. He was awkward with it, as most men are, with the small, dainty handles and delicate rims.I grinned at his effort, and he laughed. I felt instantly comfortable with him. "I've brought you a little something, Miss Downey." He smiled and set the gift bag on the coffee table. "Please, call me Marla." I smiled back and thanked him as I took the bag and reached inside. I pulled out a gorgeous pair of high heel shoes. I'm sure I looked shocked as my mouth hung open. It was a gift of a more intimate nature than is appropriate. I felt myself blush, and an uneasy feeling crept over my heart. I felt it pound in my chest. I was sure he could hear it. His smile became a little darker. "Put them on, Marla." His tone was distinctly more stern. I knew this wasn't going well. I always assumed I'd know what to do in a rape situation. I always thought I'd be able to fend off an attacker. I keep in great shape, and I don't look like a target. I walk with confidence and I pay attention to my surroundings. This wasn't supposed to happen. His tone became a bit colder as I hesitated. "Put.......on the shoes...Marla." His tone conveyed wicked intentions toward disobedience. He kept saying my name, as if I were a child being scolded. My best survival instincts told me to play along, so I put on the shoes. These were sleek, black, shiny stilettos. I could tell he had shelled out some money on them. I wondered how he knew my size. The fit was perfect. His eyes appraised my every move, flashing fire as he breathed in deeply, looking at my shoes, slender ankles, and traveling up my shins, lingering at my knees. "Pull your dress up over your thighs, Marla." His voice was low, whispered, but still very much in control. I did so, exposing the tight flesh of my well toned thighs, though I kept my knees pressed together."Spread your legs, Marla." And I did. I blushed as he moaned and adjusted his cock in his slacks. He sipped his tea and let his gaze linger at my pantied crotch before dragging his eyes to mine. I felt frozen, like a frightened bird under his heated glare. "Look at you, all whorespread for me." He sipped his tea and watched me blush....watched my expressions....my eyes, my emotions. He smiled as the humiliation rolled across my face, and laughed as I felt like crawling in a hole. "Whenever I move, I make sure there's going to be a proper rapedoll for me living nearby. You are that lucky lady while I live in this neighborhood. You have been chosen for your beauty, certainly, but more. You have that slutty quality I look for in a fuckbeast." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. This sweet man speaking to me like a....a...a pervy freak! He went on to explain to me how things were going to be. "When I knock on your door, you will let me in. But before you open the door, you will slip on the fuckme shoes. Is that clear, Marla? If you fail to have on the fuckme shoes, I will punish you before I rape you. Nod if you understand me, Marla." His voice was measured and staccato when he explained about the purpose of the gift. He sipped the last of his tea and set his cup down as I nodded yes. "Good. You have been a good girl so far tonight, Marla. Let's keep that up, shall we?" He stood and gestured, indicating that I should lead the way, to the bedroom, I supposed. He locked the front door and followed me into my room. I turned on a lamp, and he was instantly on me, pressing me up against the wall, his hands caressing roughly, his mouth hot against mine as he kissed me. His lips crushed mine as he pressed hard, and his hands smoothed up and down my sides, arms and back. He broke the kiss to whisper something chilling. Something that echoes in my head even now. "I'm your new boyfriend, Marla. There will be no one else for you. I will consider it cheating on your part if I find you with another man." His voice sounded so odd. I could hear the sideways nature of him just then. The disturbed side of his shiny personality had shown itself. He backed up a step, his eyes falling to my breasts. "Take off your dress now, Marla." I was embarrassed, and I had removed my bra earlier to relax. I shook as I took the shoulder straps down and pulled each arm through, dying inside as I pulled the soft fabric down and under my big tits. I heard his breath draw in sharply. I pulled the fabric down with trembling hands, exposing my lean ribcage and concave belly, toned with hour upon hour of ab workouts each week. I worked the dress around to unzip it before working it further off my smoothly flared hips. The dress whispered along my long, pretty legs as I let the fabric drop to the floor. I stepped from the pile of discarded protectivity, clad now only in a sheer beige thong. His hands were immediately upon my beautiful , firm breasts, mauling them, kneading the flesh, pushing it up and together, around and around, while he pinched my dusky pink nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. "I will whip these gorgeous tits bloody if you EVER try to deny me access to them, Marla." And with that threat, he began to devour them, sucking my nipples hard, moaning, squeezing, licking, and nipping gently with his teeth, tightening his lips to pluck at the silky flesh of my areolas. He seemed to enjoy watching the pink nubs stiffen with his manipulations as I kept still, with my palms flat against the wall, breaths shallow. He reached into his pocket and drew out a small closed knife, and flicked it open with his thumb. I gasped in fear as I heard the blade click into locked position. He took note of my reaction and drew the blade menacingly across my neck. "I won't cut my girlfriend, but I will cut a deceptive whore, Marla. Don't lie to me, and don't deny me. Ever." He drew the blade across my tummy and smiled as it sucked in further, the flesh trying to escape harm. He cut the sides of my little thong and layed the flat of his blade against my soft cuntlips. I clung to the wall in terror, with visions of unspeakable things flashing through my mind. "I'm glad your pussy is shaven, Marla. That will save us from having to stop and take care of that." He closed the blade and slipped it back in his pocket. The relief I felt from that simple act was enormous. He slid his hand up into my hair, gripping it by the roots and bending me forward. He turned me to face the wall and told me to put my hands on it, and to spread my legs wide. I obeyed like a marionette. I was nothing more than his naked sex puppet on a string, complying with his every word. He cupped my velvety little pussy, freshly shaven earlier in my regular evening shower. He ran his fingertips over my smooth, toned buttocks. "This is the position I will beat you in, Marla, should you ever give me reason to discipline you." His tone was pleasant, as if beating his "girlfriend" was a normal course of action, and the threat was not made in anger. I knew as certainly as I am Marla Downey, alive and well and now finishing up my post rape shower, that this man would hurt me, perhaps kill me, if I refused him. "Now slide sensously onto your bed, Marla, and slither onto your back. I'm going to tie you down because I like that, not because I think you'll escape me." I walked mechanically, strutting to the edge of the bed in the insanely high heels, and placed my hands on it, bending low and keeping my long, pretty legs straight. I let my palms slide forward on the satin until I was on my belly. I crawled further, getting my legs onto the bed, making slow movements and keeping my belly and breasts down. I let my hips raise slightly and heard him growl in lust. I rolled onto my back and silently spread myself into an X, laying still with my heart pounding. "That was perfect, Marla. As long as I get that sort of behavior out of you, I'll be pleased and refrain from hurting you. I hope I've been clear on that." He smiled and opened the top drawer of my dresser. As expected, that's where I keep my stockings, nylons, and lingerie. He checked to see which drawer my bras and panties are kept in as well. He withdrew four sheer black stockings and bound each wrist and ankle to each bedpost. He stretched me tightly, allowing little slack. He circled my bed, tongue clucking at his work, and raking my sweet flesh with his eyes. He knew how to draw out my fear. With a moan of heated satisfaction, he crawled onto the bed with me, caressing every curve and plane, every crevice and swell with smooth, sensual strokes. He pulled off his own clothes unceremoniously, tossing them aside and crawled right up between my widely spread legs. I can't tell you how I felt then. I had become a bit numb, obeying his commands, keeping myself from harm. I think he must have known this. He had a solution. He was going to make me feel something. I could feel his breath, steamy hot against my bare, exposed pussy. He began to lick up the length of my slit, over and over, moistening me against my will. I could feel my body react as he continued to lick, delving deeper into my silky pink folds. He looked up at me, smiling with triumph in his eyes. "That's my girl. Give me that honey." His nasty grin made me whimper and blush. He chuckled darkly and drove his stiffened tongue deep into my sodden little cunthole, fucking me with it, making me squirm and moan, and to my utter humiliation, causing me to flood juices onto his tongue, lips and chin. He took his time at lapping up the spilled sweetness, teasing my excited little clit with brief flicks. He knew how to make me hot, breaking down my defenses first with my nipples, now my clit, expertly suck-licked to full sensitivity. He clamped his mouth down tight and sucked my clit up into his warm, wet mouth, bearing down to flick my clit, rapidly and unmercifully steady, until, at last, squirming, tugging at my bonds and squalling like a slut, I came, hard. He continued to tease my clit as he looked up at me, sweat-damp skin, heaving chest, belly muscles flexing as I breathe hard. His tongue tip flicked my ultra sensitive clit, causing my hips to buck as I jerked. The stockings strangled my slender ankles, and he looked back at each one, groaning in pleasure as he watched my high heels jiggle with tension, pulled taut by the black silk. I could feel him chuckle against my soaked cunt, and I felt his level of control over me heighten. He raised up to his knees and showed me his stiff, angry prick. "I'm gonna give it to you, Marla. I'm gonna stick it to you hard." And with that, he speared my cum-slickened cunt, filling me to the hilt with steel-hard meat in one wicked thrust. He stopped to enjoy my inner clenching, another reflex out of my control. "So tight, my pretty girl, such a perfect fit." He dabbed at my throbbing clit, making my hips buck again and fucked me with a vengeance I've never felt before. His face contorted, his muscles flexing beneath a generous layer of body fat. He was strong, alright, despite his weight. I wouldn't call him obese, by any stretch, but he was certainly not cut or lean. His thrust was mean, and lifted me with each slam. He planted his hands on each side of my head, holding my face forward by pinning my hair."You like that, Marla?" I nodded and whimpered as I came over and over, unable to stop. Uncontrollable orgasms swept over me as he thrust slow and hard, pounding me into submission. At last he was ready, and let his tempo quicken. My big, firm tits bounced to his viewing pleasure, and he did not neglect to look back at each high heel held tightly in black silk bonds as he geared up to cum. He kissed me deeply, sucking my breath into his mouth and biting my lower lip. He spat two words before he let his scalding jizz empty into my cream-milking cunt. "My bitcchhhhh." Within seconds, he had pulled his cock free and straddled my pretty face, letting his wet balls sit on my mouth. He cast his eyes down upon mine, with that disturbed look. "Lick them clean, Marla." And I did, with steady laps, my eyes glazed from my own orgasms, resentment hidden behind a pretty blush. He let his cock ooze droplets onto my cheeks, but he didn't make me suck his dick clean. Only his balls, for some reason. I couldn't possibly guess that he would be making his last "girlfriend" taste me later in the evening. He crawled off the bed and dressed, as I lay quietly, staring at the ceiling, stealing glances over at him, hoping he won't leave me tied this way. He smiled and looked over as if he could read me. "Don't worry, baby, I'll cut you loose." He made quick work of it, slicing only once into each stocking with his sharp knife. He leaned down to kiss me, gripping one tit and squeezing hard. "Until next time, m'lady." Was he trying to make me furious? He winked and swept out of my room. I could hear the front door click shut and I quickly drew the comforter up around me. I remembered the damn shoes and took pleasure in throwing each one against the wall. I panicked, throwing aside my sticky wrapping, and ran to make sure they weren't damaged before crawling back inside the blanket. I gathered myself slowly before making my way to the shower. What am I going to do? I comb through my freshly shampooed hair and moisturize my smooth skin. I pad back into my room and pick up the pair of stilettos, examining them as I walk to the front door. Carefully, gently, I place them beside the threshold, ready for their next use. A Gift of Stilettos Ch. 02 It has been nearly two weeks since sweet-faced Oliver came to my house. He shocked me with a gift of sexy high heels, and, during his rape, he made it clear that I am to be his "girlfriend". He would be back to rape me again, and I am to have no other men in my life. Did that happen? Even now it seems like something in a dream, hazy and far away. But there are the shiny black shoes by the door, untouched since I placed them there that night, after he left. I remember he instructed me to have them on before I open the door for him, next time he arrived. The demand makes me feel trapped with the certainty of his return. But I have not seen him, nor has he called. I'm beginning to feel a little more relaxed. Maybe he won't be back. I've been curious to see if he is even home anymore, but there is something too odd about purposefully visiting my personal rapist. I just can't do it! The idea is ludicrous I tell myself as I drive by on my way to work, my eyes forward, aching to slip off a sidelong glance at his driveway. My cheeks flush as I allow myself a furtive peek. Have his shades been drawn? Are there any noticeable signs of life in the few seconds I glance at the front of his house? It looks still, as if no one is home. I haven't considered calling the police. I'm still not sure if this is rape. After all, I kept his gift, and I didn't actually say no to him. Too much time has passed now anyway and it's doubtful anyone would believe my story. Could it be he's been caught for some other rape and he's sitting in jail? I can just see him, caged and frustrated in his cell as I drive down the boulevard. I grip the wheel to keep my hands from shaking and jump, startled as my cellphone rings. I exhale, long and slow, letting my tensed shoulders drop. It's my best friend, Jaqui. "Hey, Jacks, what's up?" I consciously force a normal, light tone in my voice, cradling the small, slim phone to my ear, smoothly navigating the s-curve onto the freeway. "Marlaaaaaa! I was getting worried....no one has really heard from you for what? Like, two weeks! Well, except that message you left. Are you still sick? We're getting together tonight and guess who's gonna be there? Daniel!!" She doesn't breathe when she talks, I swear. Daniel. Daniel will be there. He's the man I met the very evening Oliver came over. I was very interested in seeing him again. He is the sort of man I could see myself with long term. He's smart, funny, charming, and just rough enough around the edges to inspire trust. I felt an instant connection with Daniel the moment we met. "Where?" Oliver's threats faded and I made my plans. "It's called My Wife's Place, you know, that new bar and grill near the-" "Yes, what time?" "Oh, around seven? Gotta run, glad you're better babydoll, bye." Click. I love the way her office phone ends the call with that old fashioned land-line sound. What am I going to wear? Something hot, but not too hot. Something modest yet curve-hugging. I swing into my parking spot at work happy and brimming with excitement about the get together tonight. It feels like years since I had a bounce in my step. I know I'm going to be alright. I stride toward the elevators with confidence, flashing a bright good morning smile at everyone passing. I am myself again. My day passes quickly and I can do no wrong. Its been one of those charmed days where everything goes my way. I've have the golden touch it and it lasts through lunch and my afternoon duties. I have not run a stocking, broken a nail, spilled anything on any part of my snug gray suit. Every file was in it's place today. Clients were pleasant, and the receptionist actually worked! Good grief, could life get any better? I hope that Daniel will be glad to see me. Even rush hour traffic seemed to part just for me, like paparazzi to a star. I know the dress I'll be wearing. It's been in the back of my mind all day, of course, with my subconscious working it out. The jewelry, the stockings, the thong and bra set, and...the perfect shoes. Oh yes, I'm going to, and why not? They are gorgeous shoes. Sexy, sizzling, alluring. I'd feel guilty had I purchased them myself. They are an indulgence I cannot afford. I shimmy into my fitted red satin dress with the innocent white piping, straining to zip it up in that hard-to-reach mid back area. Thanks to my yoga classes, I'm just flexible enough to get the job done. A quick transfer of items to a beaded clutch, more lipstick, grab keys, yes. For Pete's sake I'm trembling with excitement! Did I retro to high school? Okay. Breathe. Steady. Slipping on the shoes. I feel so incredible in them. This will be fine. Don't think about Oliver. I need this night like I needed my perfect day. I feel great. I look stunning in the hallway mirror. I take the plunge outdoors, locking up behind me and tossing my long silky hair over my shoulder as I head to my car. I turn the key in the ignition. My dependable ride hums. So far, so good. I don't look as I pass his house. Noway. Nothing is stopping me now. The valet takes my key with a smile and nod and I breeze into the bustling restaurant. I feel eyes on me, gliding up and down my tall, elegant form, perhaps sliding from my beautiful face, down the graceful line of my neck to rest discreetly, perhaps not so discreetly, on the velvety valley between my plump breasts. Maybe eyes are lingering at the firm curve of my taut ass, or the delicate shape of my long legs as I pass, led to a table full of laughter and wine and friends. I nod a greeting all around the table as the host seats me, right between Daniel and Jaqui. I can feel my eyes brimming and I blink back inappropriate tears of relief. I couldn't be happier right now, seated between my best friend, leaning to answer her hug, and the man I hope to be dating. I turn to him and press my hand over his with a quick squeeze and a warm smile. His eyes are the color of the sea and they sparkle with delight at me. Oh good! He is as happy to see me as I am to see him. There are two other couples here besides Jaqui and her date. Everyone is chatting about the latest buzz in politics, the slew of celebrity deaths, and how delicious the wine Daniel chose is. The food arrives without delay, and more wine is poured. I decide to try a small amount. I don't normally drink but I feel so celebratory. Daniel obliges and as he pours the dark red liquid into my wineglass. I suddenly feel a hot breath on my neck. My heart drops, I freeze, and time itself stops. I am dizzy as I turn to look and yes, it is Oliver, smiling into my face, with fury hidden there, in his eyes. "Hello lover, sorry I'm late, and I really can't stay anyway. I was in the area and wanted to pop in to meet everyone anyway." He kissed my neck again and stood up, with his hand clamped tightly over my shoulder. He looked around at the startled faces of the party, and gave them all his most disarming grin. "Hi folks, I apologize for the interruption, I'm Oliver." Another disarming smile, and a raise of brow as most look surprised at his sudden, unannounced appearance. "I guess Marla hasn't broken the news yet, ooops." He pretends awkwardness, but I can feel his true nature. He looks down at me, cuing me to step in and smooth things over. My stammering and embarrassment however, are real. A glance tells me that Daniel's eyes are on his plate. I can feel Jaqui staring at me. "News, Marla?" She puffs a disapproving breath at me and bores a hole with her gaze. I know she's upset at having fixed me up with Daniel to find that I'm already dating someone. I wish I could tell her the truth. "Well, it's not really news, yet. I mean I..." His grip tightens on my shoulder. I just blurt out an answer. "Oliver is my neighbor and he........we.....um, we are dating." There. Its out. My heart is racing, though his grip eases up. My eyes fall to my own plate as Oliver leans again to kiss my neck. "Nice to meet everyone, sort of meet, everyone. But I have to run." He turns to me with a communicative look. I know it's not going to be good later. My company gives smiles and warm, polite words of parting as Oliver steps away, blowing me a kiss. The rest of dinner is a bit strained with Jaqui and Daniel silent on my flanks. I excuse myself and head to the ladies room. Jaqui is too mad to follow. That's damned angry. As I push into a stall, I am shoved roughly in, catching myself from falling on the back wall, arms outstretched. It's Oliver. His hands grip my breasts as he presses his hard cock against my ass. "You dirty girl. You want to be treated like a whore, I'll treat You that way." He roughly squeezes my full tits, and jerks my dress up and over my ass. His finger is inside me, raping, merciless, easily tugging orgasms out of me, making me give up my pleasure to him from the depths of my tightness. His voice sounds sinister as he pulls me back against his angry hard-on and pistons my dripping pussy. I fight to stay silent as he humps hard into me, making me stumble like a fresh foal. "This is mine, Marla. Mine. Mine. Mine. You. Fucking. Whore." He punctuates each calm statement, each raspy whisper, with a vicious, claiming thrust, rewarded with my juices, running down his shaft. A ripe little peach speared, giving up her nectar to the blade. "Sexy lil stockings, fuck. Were you planning on fucking that guy out there? In the shoes I gave you, huh? You know what I'd do to you, don't you, Marla?" He gives my clit a wicked pinch and lets his load empty into my spasming cunt. "I'll take these." He pulls his spent cock from my suckling pussy and rips the lacy red thong from me, jerking sharply downward, holding them by the soaked crotch. He tucks the naughty rag into his pocket as he leaves me there, shaking, cum running down my long legs. "Get your ass home pretty fucking soon, Marla. You have some 'splainin to do." This time his voice sounded amused. Frightening how quickly his moods change. With a smack to my left ass cheek, he departs, leaving me feeling used like a whore, indeed. I dread going home, but I have to, or things will get worse for me. I gather a big wad of toilet paper and tissue off my legs and well drilled pussy. At the sink, I inspect my face and smooth my dress. What am I going to say to everyone now? Sorry I have a rape to catch, gotta go? I wish Jaqui wasn't angry. As if she could sense my need, she pushed through the heavy door, exhaling audibly. "We saw Oliver leaving just now. What the fuck? Was he in here with you?" Oh great, real discreet, Oliver. I turned to her, crimson cheeks telling all. "Oh my gawd, Marla, you did it in here? What's going on? Who is he?" What can I say to her to explain all this? I couldn't be more humiliated. My friends think I'm cheating on my new boyfriend. My best friend thinks I'm hiding things from her. Turning to her, I shook my head and stepped close, my hands on her upper arms, and my eyes pleading. "Jacks, you gotta believe me. Some things are going to seem weird for me, ok? But believe me, I'm not trying to be all...secretive. I'm....trying some new things. I don't know, I'm just.......going to see where this goes." Her eyes shifted from one of mine to the other, trying desperately to find some logic. Her trust in me is the only thing saving me right now. "Ok, ok. Whatever. Don't tell me. You just be careful, alright?" She gathered me in a much needed hug, sighing like her little sister just brought home the wrong boy. "Will you say something to Daniel for me? I don't know, just...tell him I like him, ok? I'm going to go quickly. My dress is stained. I'm so embarrassed." She nods, checks out my dress, hands me my purse and makes me promise to call her later. I scoot out the long way around the dining room, hoping no one will notice the splatters on the hem of my dress and the long run in my right stocking. The valet notices. I roll my eyes as I drive away. Of course I can't get away without at least one person seeing my shame. I just don't have sex in public bathrooms. I've never been that wild. I turn off the motor and sit in my driveway for a few minutes, gathering my will. My hands are shaking and I place them in my lap. My heart is racing in anticipation. What is Oliver going to do? I jump as Oliver opens my door abruptly. Like a gentleman, he smiles, extending his arm, offering his hand. I take it warily, knowing that once inside, his facade will diminish. He uses my keys to unlock the door, and escorts me inside. Once we are in, he turns the deadbolt with a deliberate pause. His voice is quiet. "Take off the dress." He turned slowly toward me, and his eyes were cold, fixed on me, a specimen under his microscope. I strain again to unzip the tightly fitted garment, slip it off and gently lay it over a chair. I stand silently in my red lace bra and nude stockings, held up with a black lace garter belt. I can't stop shaking. I wonder if he plans to beat me the way he threatened last time he was here. "Bra." His voice is strange and calm. He sits down heavily and produces a roll of duct tape from the deep pocket of his black jacket. I take off my bra and lay it over the dress. His eyes are on mine as if he refuses to look at my body and the "fuckme" shoes. He gestures for my approach. I walk to him, my long hair in large, sexy curls cascading down my well toned torso. My vintage mother of pearl pendant nestles at the hollow of my throat, and I've nothing else on but the torn, nude stockings and the six inch stilettos he'd given me two weeks ago. He wraps the tape slowly around my knees, leaving a two inch space between them. He then wraps the tape around the gap too, fashioning "cuffs". "Now go make me tea like you did before, Marla." He watches me struggle, walking awkwardly, clumsily, taking tiny steps toward the kitchen. I can feel his wicked grin against my backside. My cheeks are burning and my own fury is rising. I feel so humiliated as I make his tea and step like a wind-up doll, bringing his tray back carefully. My full, round swells of tit flesh bounce lewdly with each jerking little doll step. My lovely high cheeks flame with embarrassment. I obey as he guides me to his thigh, bidding me to bend at the waist to set his tea tray on the table. His hands run up the back on my legs, gripping each cheek, testing the firmness, spanking the taut flesh as if I'm stock to be purchased. I pour the steaming liquid from the pretty pot into the cup. He stops me as I begin to pour the agave nectar. He raises the spoon to my bare, exposed pussy and pushes the cool metal in. I whimper, afraid its going to hurt. It doesn't. He is gentle with it and coats it well. "This is how I want my tea sweetened at your house, baby. The only nectar I need is right here." He stirs his hot tea with the honeyed spoon, smug with triumph.I find his tone curious and yelp with surprise as he grabs my hair at that moment, jerking me roughly to the floor. My knees clatter on the hardwood surface, one hand on the couch, the other palm on the table. He grips my hair tightly at the roots and picks up his cup with a steady hand. He blows at the steam before sipping, swallowing, and moaning in pleasure. "My last girlfriend is history. Her disobedience was tedious. But. I shoved my dick down her throat so hard she'll never forget me. I don't think she'll ever forget me anyway. I made her taste you, my new sweetheart. It was my parting gift to her, allowing her to clean my cock one last time." I shudder at the thought of some poor girl choking on his sticky penis. He laughs as my expression broadcasts my thoughts. His heavy hand pats my head as he leisurely sips his spiked tea. I wonder if he means he saw her tonight, or two weeks ago. I feel the need to reach out to him, and soothe his inner fury. His beast-like, primal energy is thick and heavy in the air, nearly tangible. How hard can it be to pretend, just like he does. I reach out and caress his leg, just a little. "That's it, Marla, show me how much you love your Master. Don't make me hurt you like I did with her. Tonight I saved your ass, and you know it. This is your first, and last chance to be a good girl. You can thank me with your sexy little mouth on my cock. If I'm happy I might let your beg to spread those perfect legs for me again." Ironically, he did save me tonight. Had I even kissed Daniel, I'm certain Oliver would be bruising me up right now. He unbuckles his belt and pulls it from the loops, placing it around my neck, threading the leather through and cinching it snugly. He grins down at me as he pulls my beautiful face toward his stiff prick. He holds the belt like a dog's leash, insistently pulling me til my mouth is right at his cockhead. Oh fuck no, I don't want to suck him! I almost pull away and manage to get ahold of myself before that happens. I want to be hurt even less, so I part my full, glossed lips and look up at him. I watch his expressions as I take his crown into my pretty mouth, wrapping my glossy pink beestung lips around his shaft. The corners of his mouth curve upwards as I register a strange flavor. He said his parting gift to her was allowing her to clean his cock one last time. Could he have fucked her before leaving earlier? I thought he must have seen her two weeks ago when he left here sticky. My lil nose wrinkles up at the thought of tasting another girl and he shoves my head down hard, forcing his cock in deep, choking me, lodging in my tight throat. "Get used to it, girl. You'll be tasting your cunt a lot. My girlfriends are required to suck my dick clean after I rape their horny slits." It didn't occur to me it is my own juices from the restaurant, when he raped me in the bathroom. He wraps his fist in my long hair and uses it as a handle to force my mouth up and down his shaft. Horny slits? I hate the way my cheeks flame up at that phrase. He points out the one reason I can't bring myself to report him. I constantly cum for him. That doesn't seem like nonconsensual sex. My naivete keeps me prisoner in many ways. His grip loosens and he begins to pet me again. "Now suck it like you worship it, Marla. Pretend it's a yummy popsicle, sweetheart. Use your tongue, and tighten those fuckable lips, babydoll." His grunts disgust me. I follow his instructions, bobbing my head up and down, sucking hard, swirling my tongue, licking it against the spot at the top, beneath the carona. That makes him moan and thrust his hips. My delicate jaws feel broken, jacked wide to accept his girth. Suddenly he pulls free of my dripping mouth, with my head held still in his hands. "Beg, slut, beg to spread, beg sweetly." He trembles at the edge of his orgasm. "Please, Oliver, Master, please, pretty please let me spread my legs for you. Please, I need to spread my pretty, long legs for You, Master I-" "Maybe next time, bitch." His brutal thrust jams his meat far down in my throat, over and over, gagging me hard. My eyes spill over tears, and drool splutters from my lips. He holds his cock deep as he shoots jet after jet of hot jizz down my throat. My nose bubbles as I try hard to swallow, his threats in my ear. "Don't you dare spill any, Marla, don't you dare spill a drop. I'll let you spread those hot legs next time." He knows how to drive home humiliation. I struggle to swallow his thick, hot load, afraid to let any seep from the corners of my mouth. I tighten my lips and suck hard, swallowing frantically. His hands reward me with soft caresses against my face and hair. Afterward, as he tucks away his spent rapecock and rises to leave, he draws his knife from his pocket. He clicks it open as he watches my face for reaction, grinning darkly as my body jerks. He leans down to cut the tape and touches the blade to my skin, trailing the sharp tip lightly down my shapely calf. My breathy whimpers elicit another horny groan from his raspy throat, but he merely folds the blade and tucks it away. My teary eyes half close in relief. A Gift of Stilettos Ch. 02 He slowly screws a thick finger into my swollen wet pussy, and holds it up to my flushed face. He lifts my quivering chin with a single finger, forcing me to look. It glistens with my juices. My beautiful face strains as my brow draws up tight with distress. How can I be so wet after this? What makes me excited when Oliver humiliates me so? Tears stream down my messy face as I try to make sense of it. "Oh don't be hard on yourself, baby. Your pussy knows best. You are a natural whore, whether you know it or not and when you're having a hard time thinking of how to explain me to your friends, think about this." He winks as he smears the slick of pussy juice and gloss across my full, pouty lips with his thick thumb pad. With that, he's gone, leaving me in a used, crumpled, messy, sexy little pile on the floor. Suddenly, through the fog in my head, I remember I'm supposed to call Jaqui. I think I'll put it off for a little while. Just a little while...