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Overpowered at the Office Ch. 02

By: Bellie444



Finally, he pulled back and stared into her eyes. Although no longer pressing against her, his leg remained between hers, effectively pinning her to the cabinets. His left hand released her jaw to cup the side of her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were swollen. Like him, she was panting slightly. 

As soon as he kissed her his eyes closed in ecstasy, but he knew hers were open the whole time, possibly except when she squeezed them shut in exertion. Now those glorious hazel eyes glared up into his, blazing indignantly. He continued his silence just drinking in the sight of her, amazed that a girl could look so seductively sultry and infinitely adorable at the same time. She was perfect. 

"You- you-!" Lips feeling bruised from his kiss, Sandra couldn't find words to express her shock and fury. Never had a man forced himself upon her, and she couldn't believe that the man was Simon, someone she always respected. 

But at that moment his gaze was so disconcertingly obsessive she was temporarily lost for words. Not anything like the Simon she knew, his eyes were heavy-lidded with desire, in his excitement their colour seemed to have darkened into liquid pools of black.

"This is illegal," she said, her voice trembling with anger and fright. "This is assault. It's unacceptable. Let me go!"

Simon shook his head apologetically. "You don't understand," he tried to explain, "I'm still that same guy you've worked with for half a year. It's just...I can't resist you. And you like me, I know you do." 

As she shook her head to deny it, his right hand trailed down her body. 

"I can't forget what we just shared - I want more." On the last word he bent his head to kiss her again, but this time she managed to duck to the side and his lips grazed her right ear.

As she tried to dash around him he caught her easily and pulled her close into a bear-hug, pinning her arms to her sides.

"Don't fight me, Sandra," he murmured into her ear, his mouth on that sensitive area sending shivers through her body. "I can make this good for both of us."

"You're sick," she snapped, jerking her head back. "I didn't take you for the type to have an ego that can't take rejection." 

Twisting her torso, she tried to kick him. Simon grinned and tightened his hold on her, making her whimper. Realising her efforts were useless, she tried to placate him.

"Simon, please!" she insisted, "Enough already! Let me go!" 

She squirmed, trying to loosen his hold. "You're holding me too tight!"

Simon didn't think it was possible, but her begging made his erection even harder than before, bordering on painful. Without loosening his grip he easily hoisted her up, chest to his, so their faces were level. She lost a shoe as her feet left the ground. 

"Are you going to cooperate?" he asked roughly. 

Sandra tried to look away but she couldn't. The desire in his gaze alarmed her, and she could feel his erection more prominently in this position. Crushed against him, she noticed his eyes had hardened in his determination. In that moment she knew he was going to get his way regardless, and possibly hurt her in the process. 

For a long moment they faced each other - one apprehensive and uncertain, the other predatory and confident. A tear rolled down Sandra's cheek, and she dropped her head to his chest, hating further intimate contact with him but wanting to escape the tension in her body and most of all, his terrifying stare. 

"Please don't hurt me, Simon," she relented, "I'll do what you want."

"Look at me when you say it." 

"No." She shook her head against his chest and her soft hair brushed his chin.

Struggling with the temptation to breathe in the scent of her, he gave her a little shake. Always business before pleasure, Simon needed to assert his control first.

"Look at me. Tell me," he persisted. 

When she still didn't answer he shook her harder. 

"Say what I want to hear, or you'll just drag out the experience," he said.

How she hated him! She heard the smirk in his voice - he said 'experience' it as though it was something for him to enjoy, at her expense. If he was going to be an animal, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of her reactions. 

On an angry sigh she raised her head, stared right through him as though he wasn't there, and repeated herself, her voice completely devoid of emotion.

"Please don't hurt me, Simon, I'll do what you want," she said mechanically.

Simon tiled one head to the side, wondering how to tame her. Whilst the first plea fuelled his urges, her second attempt irritated him. By deliberately withholding the emotion from her voice, she lessened his pleasure.

'Strong-willed,' he thought, carefully watching her face.

Although Sandra feigned indifference, Simon noticed her eyes wandered over his face warily, anticipating his next move. He initially planned more kissing and then some heavy petting, but at that moment he changed his tactics. He knew how to curb stubbornness. 

Suddenly he dropped Sandra to the ground, startling her, but making sure he supplied enough support so that she wouldn't hurt herself in the fall. She promptly sat on the ground - her legs were not strong enough to stand after a combination of struggling and being held mid-air. Simon grinned down at her from his intimidating height and slipped his hands into his trousers, his erection still visible. 

"So, you're going to do what I want, right?" he checked.

Gazing up at him, she nodded apprehensively. He stood between her and the door, and there wasn't room to dodge around him. 

Looking desperately past Simon at the exit, Sandra wondered how she ended up in this hellish situation. She thought about how normal things were less than half an hour ago, what she wouldn't give to turn back the clock and hightail it out of there, before Simon had the opportunity to trap her.

Simon held a hand up to his ear, as though he was hard of hearing. "Sorry, I didn't quite catch that?"

'What a cocky bastard,' she thought, reluctantly breaking her gaze from the door to meet his eyes. Though she knew deep down that he had complete power over her, and she was in big trouble.

"You win, Simon," she gave in, "I'll do what you want."

Smugly, Simon pulled his hands out of his pockets and clapped them together once, as though he was finalising one of the many meetings they had attended together. 

"Excellent," he smiled, taking a small step forward so he was directly above her. 

When he came closer she immediately scooted backwards until she was half sitting on a lower shelf lined with dusty records. As he opened his mouth to speak again Sandra interrupted, taking a last shot at freedom. 

"Why are you doing this to me?" She signalled around the room. "Look at us, you don't have to do this. Think about what you're doing. Think about the consequences!" 

He just watched her. His silence wasn't encouraging, so she tried another tactic. She had to make him see reason, she had to at least try. 

"If you just let me go now, I won't tell a soul." She pressed a hand to her heart and exhaled heavily to ease her panic. "I swear. I just want to go home. You've had some fun, and scared the shit out of me. I've been through enough tonight. 

"Please," she continued earnestly, "It's not too late. We can forget all about this. I just want to go home." On the last word her voice trembled as though she might cry, but she was determined not to, and with a small sniff and a lot of effort managed to avoid it. 

Simon crouched down in front of her, and she shrank away from him. The truth was, normally her plea would have had an effect, as he could certainly appreciate her desperate situation. However at that moment, in the grip of pure lust, he wasn't moved in the slightest. In fact, with the way he was feeling, if someone had tried to come to Sandra's aid he might have killed them without thinking. 

Simon never considered himself a horrible person, but there was something about Sandra that brought out the sadist in him, and he liked it. All he knew was that he wanted her, more than anything in his entire life. 

When people really want something, they tend to find a way, and Simon suddenly struck upon an idea of how to turn an uncertain situation into a positive one. 

There was the nagging thought in the back of his mind that he could get caught, and arrested. The chance that Sandra would have him locked up as soon as she was out of his reach. Even if he didn't end up in a cell, now that she knew what he was capable of he'd never get within arms-length of her again. She wasn't the type to tempt fate or make mistakes. 

Watching her, shrinking on the floor away from him, he realised the solution to his dilemma. If she thought he only wanted one encounter, she was extremely wrong. But if he didn't reveal this right away, if she believed that she'd soon get to see him thrown in jail, she might be more cooperative in other respects. 

It was these other 'respects' that would keep her at his mercy in the long run. Simon hated his tactics, and before this point had managed to avoid the regrettable circumstance of forcing himself on a woman - where women were concerned he was never short of offers. But he couldn't deny that he delighted in this particular chase. Accepting a challenge and winning with flying colours. Besides, all's fair in love and war.

Simon's hand snaked out and though she tried to strain away, he was quick enough to get a firm hold of her chin. 

"Tell you what," he said amiably, "I'll let you go... on one condition." He watched the emotions flicker across her face - fear, hope, relief, trepidation. 

"What is the condition?" she asked suspiciously.

Tired of crouching, he released her chin and sat back on the ground opposite her. As he moved back he noticed she relaxed a little, and smiled thinking how she would react to his proposition. He spread his hands, palms facing her.

"You have two options." He raised his left hand. "You can fight me till you're exhausted and, although it's not what I want, you might get hurt. Then I'll thoroughly rape you, take your clothes, and you can call the police or whoever you want and they can collect you in the nude. Or..." 

Shifting the balance, he lowered his left hand and raised his right. "You give me a blow-job, I'll let you go, and you can keep your clothes on. But we're not talking just any blow-job." 

Simon's smile became a grin at Sandra's horrified expression. 

"You have to act like you love it," he said. "You have to give it like it's the best thing in the world. Like I'm the one doing you a favour."

Sandra's eyes had widened when he mentioned the rape, and he knew she would never choose that option. But when he gave her option two she turned her face away, eyes squeezed shut in disgust. 

Watching her struggle with the humiliating concept of the blow-job, it was difficult not to laugh his triumph. She didn't want to be raped, but acting like she enjoyed pleasuring him didn't hold much more appeal - it was infinitely more degrading.

Sandra's mind was a whirlwind of clashing thoughts. The first option would no doubt be physically painful, not to mention more intimate. The second option would scar her pride.

'He's not going to get that satisfaction,' she thought, savagely. 'I'd rather fight him.'

'What about you?' a second thought overrode the first. 'Look at his size, he'll put you in hospital. And at least he won't get sex. Then you can get out of here in one piece and totally fuck him up.'

Simon had no intention of hurting Sandra, but she couldn't know this. He gambled that she would choose option two. Well aware that the first option would come with torn clothes, minor scratches or bruising, and bodily fluids - she would have an abundance of physical evidence against him and he'd be screwed. But he knew she wouldn't call his bluff. 

Before his attack she wouldn't have believed he'd assault her - how could she tell what he was capable of now? Knowledge was his power at present, and in light of his physical strength, she was at a serious disadvantage either way.

"If I agreed to the second option," she said slowly, "how do I know you won't just rape me anyway?"

"Good question," he replied. "But I guess that's a chance you'll have to take. Besides giving you my word, I don't really plan to spend the night here - it could take me a while to recover from your attentions."

Simon rubbed a hand across his broad chest thoughtfully and amusedly watched her shudder when he said 'attentions'. 

"I do give you my word," he said, "but the truth is there's no way to be sure."

Watching her contemplate the options - either rough sex or sucking him eagerly, his heart began to race and he grew impatient. His need for her increased with every moment, and his cock was aching for release.

"If you don't make a decision," he continued, his dark eyes narrowed in lust, "by default it'll be option one."

Presented with this new information, she replied automatically. 

"I'll blow you." Sandra winced at her own words, but knew he wouldn't let her stall for much longer, and she was genuinely scared he would rape her if she didn't choose.

He picked himself up with surprising agility, and stood looking down at her with a twisted smile on his handsome face. 

"Then get started," he murmured, not wanting to give her time for second thoughts. He wasn't in the clear yet.

Overpowered at the Office Ch. 03



Sandra was having difficulty wrapping her head around the situation. It had been a long time since she'd done what he was asking, and even then it was for her boyfriend at the time, a guy she had dated for a while. She didn't know Simon beyond work, and at present he was even less than a colleague, he was a total stranger.

What was she supposed to do? He stood over her expectantly, completely disregarding the mute-appeal in her eyes. 

"Come on, Sandra," he cajoled. "You chose this, remember?" He checked his watch and it glinted evilly in the room's yellow light. "We don't have all night. Get going." 

Although he would have preferred a more seductive setting, even romance, he couldn't afford to show affection or weakness at this stage. Then she would know he cared about her, and he needed her to learn not to question him. That, and he was becoming rather desperate to ease his cock.

Hesitantly Sandra clambered up from her sitting position, onto her knees and reached for his belt. It was thick black leather, reminding her of an old horror movie with a serial-killer who strangled his victims with his belt after raping them. Shaking off the morbid thought, she tried to concentrate on her task. After she unbuckled his belt she flinched as he whipped it from his trousers to assist her. 

'How kind of him to help,' she thought sarcastically, unlocking the catch on his grey suit-pants and pulling his underwear down to release him. Simon's large cock burst forward as though it had been confined in too small a space, and as she stared at it she believed that was definitely the case. 

It seemed to strain toward her, thick and heavy with arousal, as though it knew she was its source of pleasure. She could hear his uneven breathing, and noticed how his body trembled slightly. Both his hands positioned themselves on the cabinet similarly to when he first cornered her, supporting himself in preparation for what was to come.

"Listen carefully, Sandra," he breathed, shifting his feet in his excitement. "At first, you're going to suck me with your eyes closed. I'll tell you when to open them. I want to hear everything - sucking and moaning. Close your eyes like you're sucking a straw on a chocolate milkshake, none of that 'squinting shut' crap you pulled in our kiss. And when I tell you to open your eyes, you're gonna be looking at me with moons and stars in them. Now, go!" 

Using the image of rape at his hands to motivate her, Sandra began her task, wrapping one hand around the base of his cock, and grasping his thigh with the other for support. His cock felt hot in her hand and was large in girth, not practical-joke big, but enough for her to know her mouth would be stretched to its limit. Before she could prevent the thought, she pictured a python swallowing an antelope whole.

Cursing her imagination, she felt her jaw stretch as wide as possible, she slowly slid her lips over the head, and he gasped in ecstasy. It was much easier to close her eyes than keep them open. She didn't want to see his cruel, handsome face watching her degradation. Absolutely she wanted to bite his dick off. 

But remembering 'option one', Sandra got on with it, rhythmically pumping the base of his shaft with her hand and using her tongue on the underside as she sucked, tracing the veins, tasting his musky male scent, feeling the velvety texture of him as her mouth was filled with a mix of cock, saliva and pre-cum.

"Mmmmmmm," she moaned, like a whore.

"Oh, God, Sandra," he groaned, "that feels amazing. You're so good at this."

Sandra's cheeks burned in embarrassment. How dared he tell her she was a good cocksucker?

Without realising it himself, Simon started making small thrusts with his hips. He couldn't help it, he was only half-way in and her little wet mouth on his cock made him feel like King of the world. In his pleasure he very nearly forgot the most important part of his plan. Opening his eyes and looking down at her, he almost blew his wad.

Her eyes were closed as though she was in the midst of an orgasm, her long dark lashes adding to the effect. Her cute pink lips stretched obscenely around his cock, making slurpy sucking sounds. He watched half his cock, all that could fit, disappear into her mouth again and again, shiny with her saliva and his pre-cum. The corners of her hot lips were wet with fluids, which began to seep out and edge down her chin as she pumped him in and out. Her moans vibrated right down his shaft to his balls, and the sound of her ragged breathing drove him wild. He couldn't last much longer.

Quickly, Simon slipped one hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Though he doubted she would notice, he held it toward the back of him, out of her line of sight. Unlocking the keypad, with shaking fingers he selected the camera option, and aimed it at Sandra.

Sandra had no idea what he was doing. She felt his body shift when he took one hand off the cabinet but the other remained, still supporting him. 

'Just get through this,' she thought. 'Once he gets what he wants you can leave.' These thoughts replayed in her mind until Simon spoke.

After filming her enthusiastically milking him like a two-dollar hooker, he decided to take things up a notch.

"You love my cock, don't you?" he panted, making sure the camera scanned the top of her head, before capturing her face.

"Mmmmmm!" she moaned in agreement.

He took his other hand off the cabinet and ran his fingers through her curls, tightening them into a fist.

"Oh, yeah. That's it," he said thickly. "How much do you love it? You've never sucked such a big juicy dick before, have you?" he taunted.

'I'm going to fucking kill him,' she thought, but she played his game. She nodded her head eagerly to everything he said, humming in assent, driving him wild as her head continued to bob back and forth.

Things were going so much better than Simon could have imagined. He had barely enough time to slip the phone back into his pocket. He wanted to last longer, use her wet mouth to pleasure his balls, but after the buildup of excitement it was impossible. 'Definitely next time', he thought to himself. 

He slid his other hand through her hair, tilting her head up with both hands, gently but firmly pulling her forward to take more of him in her mouth. Scared he would blow too quickly, he held her head still and stopped his thrusting.

"Open your eyes," he groaned. "Do it now."

Even though she initially agreed to it, Sandra ignored him. Never in her life had she felt so humiliated. She couldn't look at him at that moment, she just couldn't.

Simon exhaled heavily, trying to calm his body and hold off his orgasm. He needed her to watch him, to fully appreciate the situation. With her head tilted upwards he leaned forward and his cock nudged at the entrance to her throat, making her eyes fly open in horror.

"That's it, baby," he breathed, feeling a new thrill rush through him as they locked eyes, "isn't that better?" He slid a little deeper into her throat, in and out. "Oh, God, that's so good. Breathe through your nose, sweetheart. Don't look away! Good girl...eyes on me, don't you shut your fucking eyes! Use your tongue... Oh, yes!"

Sandra kept sucking as best she could, but she was no longer pretending to enjoy it, and Simon was beyond caring - she was watching and that was enough. He felt invincible with this beautiful woman at his feet, on her knees just for him, pumping his dick into her mouth, desperately staring with those big gorgeous puppy eyes. At that moment, he owned her, she belonged to him. Approaching climax, he had to release one hand from her hair and lean against the cabinets.

"Ohhhh shit!" he gasped, pulling out of her throat and poking around her mouth, savouring the moist, warm environment magically massaging his dick. "Oh, fuck! Oh, Sandra! Oh, FUCK!"

Sandra knew what was coming and squealed around his cock as she felt it jolt and stiffen in her mouth. Then out spurted several streams of cum, choking her, coating her tongue, teeth and gums. She desperately tried to pull back but he anticipated this, and quickly added his other hand to grasp her head tightly, dropping his forehead onto the cabinets in his relief.

"Take it all, Sandra," he said thickly. "Swallow, baby. Taste me. Do I taste good?" 

He pulled out a little so he could dribble his last shots right onto her tongue, then he pushed deeper again, nudging the fluids around her mouth and down her throat. This caused Sandra to whine around his cock in protest, making him shiver with pleasure as she stimulated his now very sensitive dick.

Even though he was spent, Sandra's mouth still felt amazing. A thrill went through his whole body remembering how her cheeks suddenly expanded when he filled her mouth with cum. He slowly eased in and out a few more times, savouring the remnants of his orgasm, making sure he'd pumped out everything he had to give. 

Sandra still watched him like he ordered, waiting for him to release her. With her mouth still plugged she shuddered as she was forced to swallow more or choke on it, and some inevitably escaped the corners of her mouth and ran down her chin.

"I know what you're thinking," Simon grinned weakly, "that was one impressive load, right? That's because I saved it for you." Still holding her steady, he caressed her cheek with his thumb as he spoke, and she tried to jerk her head away angrily. 

"You know, you're so fucking sexy," he said, shaking his head in disbelief, not wanting the moment to end. "My dick in your mouth. That look really suits you."

Finally he released her, but very deliberately, taking as long as possible to slide his cock out of her mouth. It was still swollen, semi-hard. As soon as it pulled out Sandra turned away, wiping her mouth and trying to spit out anything she hadn't had to swallow. Simon fixed his pants and began to hook his belt through the loops on his trousers.

"That was incredible, thank you," he sighed, stepping back so she had room to stand. He held out his hands to pull her up. "Come on, we need to talk," he said.

Sandra clenched her teeth and stared daggers at him, not believing he had the audacity to thank her. What was there to talk about? How much he'd enjoy prison? The taste of him still coated the whole inside of her mouth. 

Her knees were a bit dusty, her hair needed tidying, but apart from that her appearance wasn't too dishevelled. Her clothes were in tact and all traces of cum had been wiped away by her hands. Putting aside the thought that her hands were coated in his juices, she ignored his reach and pulled herself up using the cabinets, not wanting to touch him.

"You fucking bastard," she spat, and her voice vibrated with fury. "That was the worst experience of my life. You're disgusting. I thought you were a decent human being but you're filth. I can't think of anything bad enough to describe you!"

Not looking at him, she hastily put on her misplaced shoe and tried to run around him, but he blocked her.

"Not so fast, Sandra," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We're not finished."

"You promised me I could leave!" she cried, shaking his hand off her. "Don't touch me! You'll never get to touch me again! I hope you think of me when you're being ass-fucked in prison!"

"Now that's not a nice thing to say to a lover," Simon returned. "You really seemed to enjoy giving me head, didn't you?"

"Lover?! We're not lovers! You forced me!" she yelled. "It was that, or rape! I never-" she broke off abruptly, standing frozen like a statue, as Simon pulled out his phone and played his latest recording.

"I think this bit is my favourite," said Simon casually, as though commenting on an oil painting. Then he laughed. "Ok, I lie. I can't pick which part I love most, I love every second of it equally."

Sandra couldn't believe what she was seeing. The speakers on Simon's phone were A-grade, and the audio blared throughout the room as the assault played back.

"You love my cock, don't you?"

"Mmmmmm! Mmmm...mmmm!"

Simon deftly flicked the phone back into his pocket as Sandra raised both hands to her cheeks in horror. 

"You filmed it!" she screamed.

"I did," he grinned. "And before you get ideas about deleting it from my phone, which you'd have to get a hold of first, I've already emailed it to myself." 

From his great height, dark eyes glinting in the room's dim light, he appeared more sinister than ever. 

"So you see, we are lovers," he said slowly. "I have every intention of getting to know you...very intimately."

"Oh, my God." Sandra shook her head, hands still on her cheeks. No-one would credit her story now. How could she have been such a fool? How did her world turn into a nightmare?

"It's a little late," Simon joked, "but I'll take it." He winked at her. "Don't worry, next time I'll make sure you orgasm." 

His flicked his wrist again to check the time. "Oops, it actually is getting late. Come on, I'll give you a ride home."

Sandra dropped her hands and backed into the cabinets. "No, I'll make my own way home."

"It wasn't an offer," he replied smoothly. "You're going to accept my ride. My memory isn't the greatest, but I do recall over our pizza, you said your car is at the mechanics. And since you kindly stayed back to oblige me, it's my duty to see you home safe." 

It was surreal for Sandra, having this conversation with Simon of all people. Simon, the guy who didn't talk much, who rarely cracked jokes. Now he was doing a lot of talking, completely at ease with her despite what had just happened. It was as though he felt they were much closer now. Hands lightly resting on his hips, smiling at her, he looked almost normal. 

"I am a gentleman, you know," he said.

This was too much for Sandra. "Just leave me alone, you sick fucker!" she shrieked, slamming a fist into the cabinets behind her. 

The air left her lungs in surprise as Simon lunged forward. In a split second her face was held up to his in an iron grip. When he spoke, his voice was menacing.

"Don't you get it? I have footage of you sucking my dick. Not just willingly, lovingly. You know how many guys would love to see that video? Don't test me, Sandra. I've got nothing to lose here. No one could prove it's my dick, but they will most certainly recognise your pretty face wrapped around it."

Seeing the defeat in her eyes he smiled affectionately, and quickly pressed his mouth to hers before releasing his hold. 

"Now, get your stuff and we'll get going." His face brightened. "I've always wanted to see where you live."



Overpowered at the Office Ch. 04



True to his word, Simon drove Sandra home. On the way he tried to engage her in conversation and even had the nerve to ask her to have dinner with him the following night, but she just stared out the window. Sandra's mind was in damage-control. Trying to shut out his deep voice, her imagination strained to think of ways to get out of her predicament. She clenched her teeth as every solution she considered was shot down by the existence of that blasted phone video.

Having just experienced the greatest orgasm of his life, Simon was in too good a mood to force her to talk to him. With minimal effort and great pleasure on his part, the one woman he wanted was wrapped around his little finger. His body was in a state of relaxed bliss, and the world was his oyster. Life was certainly worth celebrating.

Sandra lived in a second-floor sunny-coloured apartment, in a rather nice neighbourhood. Simon didn't comment, but he made a mental note of her address. Although he was silent, Sandra knew better than to hope he wasn't paying attention, especially after what he'd said about wanting to see where she lived.

As his luxury vehicle pulled to the curb, she jumped out before the car had completely stopped, managing to avoid the reaching hand that tried to pull her in for a kiss. Through the open window of the passenger side, his laughter followed her as she blindly ran into the safety of her building.

Entering her apartment, Sandra promptly locked the door behind her. She dropped her bag onto the floor, staggered through the hallway to the bathroom and leaned both hands on the sink for support, breathing heavily, savouring the personal freedom she'd taken for granted. Raising her head, she looked at her reflection. Even now, she looked terrified. Her eyes stared wildly back at her. 

"Did that really just happen?" she said out loud, in disbelief. 

Focusing on her reflection, she noted her wide eyes, her swollen lips from the kissing and sucking, her voluminous hair from Simon's grip as he forced her to take him deeper, and the thin veil of white residue coating parts of her chin. 

Sandra inhaled sharply, aghast. After her vigorous efforts to erase all traces, Simon's cum was still on her face. In the car when he tried to chit-chat, smiling his little half-smile at her, he must have known the whole time. 

Worst of all, she was aware of substantial moistness between her legs, and knew she hadn't wet herself. After that whole awful degrading experience, she was aroused. The only saving grace was that Simon didn't know about it, thank God - that would have been the icing on her cake of humiliation. Remembering the kiss and how he caressed her, she couldn't have controlled her body's response.

And then she'd been forced to choose the lesser of two evils. With these options, in hindsight, she recognised that Simon had outsmarted her, pure and simple. Sandra bitterly realised it would have been better if he was rough, if he hurt her. That way it would have been a black-and-white case of assault. But now, she didn't know what it was.

She had to do something, but what? What could she say to the police without looking like an idiot? A scene played out in her mind, and Sandra imagined herself charging into a police station and being directed to report her attack.

'Officer, I've been assaulted!' 

'What happened?' The make-believe policeman leans across his desk in concern.

'My colleague attacked me!' she cries.

'My God, I'm so sorry,' he replies sympathetically. 'What did he do?'

'He kissed me! And then he made me go down on him!'

The officer shakes his head in disgust. 'We'll get the pig! Are you hurt in any way?'

'No.'

The officer begins to write the details. 'It's ok, we've had similar cases. We'll need to take all your clothes for evidence. Anything else I should know?'

In her fantasy, Sandra sits back hesitantly.

'He has a video where I might...appear to be enjoying it...and...'

'And?' frowns the officer.

'And, I might have been turned on a little...I don't know,' she continues in a rush, face turning red, 'it might show up on my clothes in evidence.'

The officer stares back at her coldly. 'If you're holding a grudge against some guy, this isn't the place to take it,' he informs her flatly.

'You don't understand-!' she tries desperately, but the officer holds up a hand and cuts her off.

'Lady, don't waste my time.'

Sandra snapped back to reality. Horrible as her imagination was, she realised there really was no way out. Her shoulders sagged in defeat, and she burst into tears.

********************************************

Simon planned to leave after seeing Sandra home safely, but he didn't. He sat in his shiny car, right outside her apartment, watching her lights flicker on, waiting to see her cross a window. Still looking up at her building, he absently rubbed his palm across his crotch, which was quickly coming back to life. 

For a moment his heart caught in his chest as he spotted movement, and his jaw tightened in frustration as she pulled the blinds, shutting him out without giving him so much as a glimpse of her. But at least she didn't know he was still there.

"What to do, what to do..." Simon murmured to himself. Remembering the film, he shifted in his seat and retrieved his phone.

Watching it all over again rapidly aroused him, and he was surprised how much he was responding to a mere replay. Normally after sex with women Simon was quickly bored, the reason he never saw the same woman twice. With Sandra, he just didn't want to leave her alone.

"What have you done to me, Sandra?" he sighed, slipping a hand down his trousers, hypnotised by her on-screen performance.

In the corner of his eye he noticed her lights cut out, and he stopped masturbating. What the hell was he doing - wanking in a car outside a woman's home, like some inexperienced teenager? Was this what he was reduced to? When every woman who crossed his path wanted to bed him? He jerked his head in irritation. 'Almost every woman,' he corrected himself. No, he wasn't going to wait outside in the dark like some old pervert who never got any. 

'That's definitely not me,' thought Simon determinedly, as he fixed his trousers and tucked away his phone.

Why should he have to pleasure himself when the very object of his desire was only metres away, at his beck and call? Sandra lived alone, he knew, and didn't have a boyfriend. Considering it was the end of the week, they had ended their night quite prematurely. Why should he retreat when here was yet another perfect opportunity to assert his dominance? 

He hadn't raped Sandra at the office for two reasons. Firstly, now he had the film it wouldn't officially be rape - he can blackmail her into 'consenting'. Secondly, he wanted their first time together to be special, intimate. He wanted to enjoy her in every way he desired, for as long as he wanted, without any chance of interruption. Simon's mouth curved into a wicked smile as he imagined her anger, when she'd discover that he indeed kept his word by not raping her at the office, but that they'd still be having sex. She looked so cute when she got mad.

For a moment he watched the quiet apartment, and his eyes scanned the bottom level before travelling up to Sandra's abode. Being tall and strong certainly had it's advantages. Using the ground floor's wall, he could easily boost himself up to reach Sandra's balcony and hoist himself over. Scaling private properties to reach reluctant females was a new experience for Simon, but no less thrilling.

'Too easy,' he smiled confidently.

Simon stepped out of his car and quietly shut the door, hoping the telltale 'beep' of his alarm system wouldn't alert her.

**************************

After her crying jag, Sandra stripped off all her clothes and shoved them into a garbage bag, even her shoes. She'd take the bag down to the trash first thing in the morning, she was too exhausted to bother now.

Standing in a shower as hot as she could stand, Sandra focused on scrubbing her face and hands. She cleaned her teeth three times, following each clean with mouthwash. Eventually she began to feel better as the nights events were washed away by the clean, comforting heat of the water. When she was done she didn't bother dressing in pyjamas, settling for a fluffy brown robe. 

Hair uncombed and still damp, she closed the blinds in the lounge-room, drew the curtains in her bedroom and tumbled into bed, cherishing her freedom. Though she didn't expect to sleep easy, the safety of her home and the soothing hot shower had relaxed her. Overcome by the physical exhaustion of resisting Simon combined with the emotional stress of the whole experience, within minutes she was sound asleep.

*************************************

It wasn't long before Sandra suddenly jerked awake, confused for the moment, but well-aware of the feeling in her stomach that something was wrong. Her heart began to pound as she heard noises coming from the living room.

'It's impossible,' she thought, trying to pull herself together. 'Stop being paranoid.'

But Sandra sat up with a gasp, and all thought of sleep was driven from her mind as she distinctly heard the balcony door leading into the lounge-room click shut. Her heart leapt into her throat. Someone was in her apartment!

"Oh, my God," she whispered, covering her mouth with both hands. "Please, God, no."

As much as she prayed for a gay burglar, it had to be Simon. Knowing she was barely dressed, that they were alone in her apartment, she wasn't naive enough to hope he wouldn't do her any harm. The robe she wore had no belt. Looking down at herself, it gaped open to reveal her full, round breasts peeping out. She wasn't wearing underwear, or anything else for that matter. Again, how could she have been such a fool?

'You forgot the balcony door again, you idiot!' she chastised herself, bracing for the rewards of her second error in judgement for the night.

What were her options? She could follow cliché and hide under the bed - and then be dragged out from underneath it for lack of creativity. She could try and get as many clothes on as possible before he reached her - and give him the pleasure of stripping her naked, all the while knowing she might have put that time to better use. The window was too small to climb out, but she could lean out of it and scream like a banshee. Naturally abiding by Murphy's Law the neighbours downstairs were out of town, but someone would definitely hear her.

'That's the ticket,' she encouraged herself. 'Worst case scenario I'll look like an idiot, but that's a small price compared to...' She couldn't bear to finish the thought.

Sandra wasted no time - she didn't imagine the noises that woke her, nor did she conjure up the click of her balcony door. She easily recognised the sound after the thousands of times she had closed it herself. 

Diving across the bed, she scrambled to her feet and reached the window, fumbling with shaking hands to unlock the stubborn latch. The latch finally gave, she pushed with all her strength, and the window zoomed upwards, letting in a lovely gust of fresh night air. 

Sandra took a deep breath, opened her mouth to cry out for help, and screamed into the large hand that clapped over her mouth.

"Looking for me?" a familiar voice breathed into her ear.

Sandra pulled with both hands at the one keeping her silent, and heard him laugh quietly as he bent forward to nuzzle her neck. Then she squealed protestingly into his palm as an arm circled her partially-naked waist, pulling her body tight against his, nudging his erection into the small of her back. The arm around her readjusted across her body diagonally, so his hand could slip under the robe and gently cup her soft, firm breast. Irrepressible tremors ran through her body as he used his fingers expertly, squeezing, rubbing and tweaking until her nipple firmed. She felt his whole body stiffen in excitement as his hand made intimate contact with her flesh for the first time.

"Nice," he whispered hoarsely. "I can barely wait for the rest." 

At this comment she summoned up as much strength as she could muster and pushed up from the ground with her bare feet, trying to dislodge his hand from her mouth and his hold around her waist. Instead of loosening his hold, he went with her movements and lifted her clear off the ground. She squirmed in his grasp and in her struggle the robe worked its way open, exposing the whole front of her naked body. Simon stared down over her shoulder appreciatively, and not without amusement.

"God, Sandra," he remarked. "You couldn't be more prepared for this than if I'd given you directions myself. Now stop struggling."

"MMMFFFFF!" Sandra replied, angrily kicking her slender legs out at the air.

"Sweetheart, I don't need you to open your legs for me yet," he replied sweetly, "your window isn't shut, and we don't want to show the whole neighbourhood your assets." 

He couldn't hold back a shout of laughter as she immediately snapped her toned thighs together, and he turned her toward the bed. "But it's lovely to know you're as eager as I am," he said, kissing her smooth shoulder. 

He slowly leaned sideways until they tumbled into bed together. He spoke low into her ear, still gently fondling her breast as she tried to move his hand off her, furiously arching her back and twisting her torso.

"I'm going to take my hand away from your mouth," he said, "but you're not going to scream. If you scream, someone might call the police to help you, and then we'll have an embarrassing situation."

"Mfffft! Mffffffffffff!' she retorted.

Noting her stubbornness, he continued. "By embarrassing, I mean I'll have to inform the police about our lovers tiff. I know plenty of females who could verify that I'm somewhat of a playboy, and you, sweetheart, would be just another conquest of mine who didn't take rejection well. Oh yes, and of course there is the tape."

Sandra shut her eyes as she recalled her own hypothetical police scenario. Feeling her body relax in resignation, Simon slowly withdrew his hand from her mouth, ready to reapply it in a split second if she changed her mind. When she didn't cry out, he exhaled in his longing and buried his face in her hair, grinning his victory amongst her soft tresses, feeling the cool, refreshing dampness from her shower. 

When he released his hand from her breast, she hastily shoved his arm away and wiggled further onto the bed, trying in fear and shame to draw her robe together. As they faced each other he marvelled at the way her eyes flashed at him even in her fright, their colour enhanced by the glare of the street light pouring over them through her window. For a short moment he watched her struggle with her robe, trying to seal it from top to bottom.

"I wouldn't bother with that," he said softly.



Overpowered at the Office Ch. 05



As Sandra released her grip on the robe, it parted on its own. She felt her face flush as Simon's warm gaze settled on her breasts. 

'Keep it together,' Simon cautioned himself, feeling his cock begin to ache. 

Shakily he blew out a long breath. Although he'd climaxed back at the office, now that he faced a clear view of Sandra's nudity for the first time, he momentarily questioned his lasting power.

Simon reached to the side and picked up a pair of mismatched scarves draped across her white bedside table. Pushing up onto his knees he edged toward her, wrapping one scarf around his hands until it pulled tight.

Sandra gaped at him in horror. 'Is he going to strangle me?' she wondered, inwardly screaming for her body to move. In terror her limbs had frozen and could she only watch as Simon slowly closed the distance between them. 

When he pounced, she shrieked and fell backwards with him on top of her. His chiseled face loomed above hers a few seconds before lowering - his mouth teased and nibbled her lips, encouraging her to open up and kiss him back. Half-resigned to her fate, she didn't fight but tried her best to ignore him, lying passive until he raised his head and looked into her beautiful eyes, glimmering with unshed tears.

"What did I tell you about screaming?" he teased, and moved the scarf resting across her collarbone up to her mouth.

"No, wait! Sim-nFFFHHH!" she cried, as he effectively gagged her. 

The scarf was several shades of purple wool, made by her grandmother. Its coarse thickness silenced Sandra far more efficiently than an ordinary scarf would have. First-hand she discovered that her gran knit one hell of a sturdy scarf. Although not in the same league of stupidity as leaving the balcony door unlocked, Sandra was irrationally mad at herself for leaving the scarf next to the bed. 

"This is going to be so good," Simon promised her, his dark eyes serious in his arousal. He sat back and pulled her clenched fists from her sides, forcing her hands open easily.

"Right now you have no idea, but you will," he muttered, pressing a wet kiss into the palm of each small hand before wrapping the second scarf around Sandra's wrists. This scarf was pure silk and warm-coloured, like her eyes.

Sandra could accept that he wanted to keep her quiet, but when he moved her body so that she lay properly on the bed and raised her arms above her head, she fought for her life. Back at the office she thought he was just a pervert, on the drive home she suspected he was emotionally unstable, but by now she genuinely believed he was bat-shit crazy. 

Simon laughed cruelly as he climbed forward, forcing her back. He straddled her, knees on either side of her waist, keeping her down while he took his time securing her hands to the headboard. 

He didn't pay any attention to her knees kicking into his back. Given his size Sandra grudgingly realised her actions were hurting herself more than him - it was like kneeing into a solid wall. Her strength was no match for his, and soon she found herself bound, gagged and, though technically still wearing the robe, completely exposed to him.

Simon carefully manoeuvred his body backwards over her writhing form, toward the foot of the bed so he could survey his handiwork. Blushing in embarrassment under his perusal, she twisted and turned to loosen the bonds, carefully keeping her legs closed.

"NNNNNFFFHHHH!" she hollered into the scarf, her eyes pleading with his. 

Simon winked at her, loving her helplessness. "Don't worry," he grinned widely, "I won't keep you waiting long."

"Bnnpph, ynnphh, unnnph-phhhh!" she argued.

Simon easily recognised what she was trying to say: 'But you promised!'

"I did promise," he admitted, enjoying how her eyes lit up hopefully as she realised he understood. "I promised not to rape you at the office. But I also made it clear we are going to be lovers, so," he shrugged his broad shoulders with exaggerated regret, "you could say that promise is now obsolete."

Though Sandra expected betrayal from him, her eyes widened in dismay and her breathing became laboured. Both exertion and panic caused her pert breasts to rapidly rise and fall. Simon could almost feel his pupils dilate as he watched them. Barely able to control his own ragged breathing, he tried to soothe her anxiety.

"Sandra, I'm not going to hurt you," he said sincerely, "but you know better than to think I'll walk out of this room and go home." He chuckled that she might have thought such a thing.

Simon's words had the opposite effect. Sandra was fast becoming hysterical. For the first time that evening her mind was completely blank - she could think of nothing to calm herself down. She was naked and completely helpless; captive to a nutcracker who had deceived her into believing he was a normal person.

Unable to resist, Simon moved forward, reaching out with both hands to capture her straining breasts while she struggled. He couldn't suppress a groan as he caressed her, rolling her nipples between his fingers till they stood to attention. 

Lowering his head to her right breast, he attached his mouth to one deliciously pink, perfectly shaped nipple, just begging to be sucked. His hot breath seemed to sear her to the bone and his mouth lingered above her breast as he alternated between licking, kissing, and gently tugging at the sensitive peak with his teeth. Almost immediately Simon realised he was going too fast, he needed to slow down or he'd finish too soon. 

Reluctantly his mouth left her breast and he sat back, exhaling heavily and moving his hands from her chest. He traced down her body, casually running his large hands a few times up and down her bare, shapely legs. Soon after, he settled them on her thighs and lightly squeezed their soft, taut flesh. Quickly, before she knew what he was about, he slid his strong hands inwards and expertly forced her legs open.

Upon this awful development, Sandra, twisting and pulling against the restraining scarf, urged herself to think of something, anything. She wished that by some astronomical miracle he'd have a sudden attack of conscience. But like in the file-room before he'd first kissed her - she knew better than to hope. 

Going over the circumstances made her feel worse. It was the start of the weekend and she was a prisoner in her own home. No one was coming to rescue her. All she could do was fight her bonds and mew into her gag. And now, legs spread before him, she was in a terribly vulnerable position.

Her thoughts were unpleasantly forced back to the present when she felt his fingers tentatively touching her pussy - stroking, spreading, probing. Squealing into the scarf in fright and outrage, detesting the feel of unfamiliar hands on that sensitive location, she drew her knees up and tried to kick him away. Simon easily deflected her kicks and settled comfortably on his stomach directly in front of her, closely facing her most intimate area. He captured her legs and held them down firmly under his strong arms as he continued his play.

'What the fuck is he doing?' thought Sandra wildly.

"I can't trust you to answer me truthfully, so I must find out myself," Simon murmured, as though he knew her thoughts. "Now try to relax."

Sandra curled forward and strained her neck to see what he was doing. Feeling her movement he lifted his head to smile at her reassuringly before lowering again to concentrate on his task. 

Her head hit the pillows and her back arched in shock as she felt a finger slowly slip inside her and settle, feeling her walls surround it tightly, before pulling out. She heard him sucking his fingers, then again jumped against her bonds as she felt two fingers ease into her, but this time they weren't taken out. They slowly began to slide further inside, deeper, gently feeling their way along her tight passage. 

Trying to disrupt the assault, she fought to free her legs from under him.

"Easy," his deep voice travelled up from between her legs, she could feel his hot breath on her inner-thigh. "Easy, Sandra," he soothed gently, as though calming a spooked horse.

'What the hell-' then she realised. He was checking if she was a virgin!

Aware that she was becoming aroused, Sandra wriggled uncomfortably until Simon was finally satisfied and took his hand away. He sat back on his knees, sliding his hands from her thighs down to her calves. His hands circled her ankles, ensuring she couldn't try to kick him again. He looked at her thoughtfully, then playfully lifted one of her legs to kiss a finely-shaped calf.

"I was hoping to be your first," he confided in disappointment, resting his cheek against her raised leg. "I was almost sure of it when I got a finger inside you." 

Sandra's couldn't help but notice the long fingers on his hand glistened with her juices and his saliva. Simon, following her eyes, temporarily released her leg to lick the moisture off his fingers. Out of his grip, she hastily brought her leg down, hating being so obscenely spread open to him. As she considered kicking him in the face, his other hand quickly circled her ankle. At least he didn't raise her leg again. 

Simon felt his blood boiling in his veins. Although his actions were controlled and methodical, after viewing and playing with her sensitive core he was practically hyperventilating from lust. Forcing himself to take deep, steady breaths, he contemplated that perhaps if he didn't rush, he could see out his desires without being premature. 

Releasing her ankles he slid his body up over hers, grinding his erection where it belonged. Then he moved back down so their faces were almost even. He hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her head upwards, directing her bright hazel eyes to meet his.

"I don't mind at all," he said thickly, gazing at her again with that same intensity she didn't think him capable of until the file-room encounter. "You're supremely tight, I can't wait to get inside you." 

As Simon indulged in the thought, his eyes seemed to glow. "You'll take all of me Sandra, and you're going to love it. Soon you'll crave my dick inside you."

He sniggered as she quickly shook her head in response, glaring up at him.

"Oh yes," he kissed the top of her nose, since her mouth was occupied. "I don't know who popped your cherry, but he wasn't a man who had any idea what to do with a beautiful woman."

His smile faded and his eyes turned cold at the thought of her with another man.

"He was obviously some needle-dick loser who was lucky enough to get a shot at you, since you didn't know any better," he said in disgust.

Though she should have felt satisfaction in his displeasure, fury snaked its way through Sandra as Simon insulted her ex. Her ex-boyfriend, Peter, was a bona fide nice guy. Their relationship ran its course and ended amicably. Peter had always treated her with love and respect. More than anything she wished she wasn't gagged so she could throw it in Simon's face, tell him that Peter was more of a man than he could ever be, that she'd be thinking about Peter when Simon inevitably raped her.

All she could do was shake her head at him furiously. The anger in her gaze didn't aggravate Simon, but seemed to send waves of heat down his body with the force of shooting stars. 

Half-smiling he watched her for a moment with one eyebrow raised, pointedly mocking her predicament, before he retreated backwards off the bed and stood facing her, still fully dressed.

Sandra stared at Simon apprehensively, and trembled when he began to slowly and deliberately undress. 

"Don't shut your eyes," he said sharply, when she began to close them and turn her face away.

She watched him loosen the knot on his patterned tie. It slid off his neck, like a dark snake. One by one, he popped the buttons on his beige business shirt, revealing a muscular chest, which expanded as he breathed deeply, struggling to contain his excitement. 

If she thought he was large before, Sandra realised she'd obviously underestimated his size, as he stood before her with no shirt on. Though he was still wearing business pants, waist upwards he looked like he'd just completed a day-long training exercise in the army. 

Thoroughly intimidated, Sandra didn't recognise her own frightened whimper through the gag. She was terrified. He said he wouldn't hurt her, but watching him silently stand over her, half-naked, she quaked inwardly and uncertainty stirred in her belly. 

He didn't look harmless, didn't look like the type of guy anyone would mess with. Dimly she wondered what she had to gain from refusing him and possibly making him angry. Not that her cooperation was an issue, she remembered bitterly, as her wrists tugged futilely on the silk bonds. 

Smugly, Simon undid his belt and took his time slipping it from his trousers, unlike in the file-room, when his urgency caused him to discard it in a heartbeat. From the bed Sandra watched as his pants dropped and she recognised his black underwear, bringing back unpleasant memories. 

Simon never took his eyes from her, didn't even glance down as he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks. In the light of her bedroom, she resentfully admitted he looked fantastic, like a male model ready to strut. Well, without the giant hard-on.  

"Now comes the fun part," he said quietly, and she had to strain to hear him over her thundering heartbeat. 

Before she could shut her eyes from the image, he slipped off his briefs and again she viewed his large cock, seemingly bigger than she remembered. 

Fully naked, Simon crawled across the bed, slapping her legs open and settling himself between her smooth thighs. His biceps flexed as he easily supported his upper body, peering down into her face. 

Sandra began to sweat a little, partly from nervousness, partly from the heat of his bare skin on her own. After all she'd been through that night, Sandra still felt dreadful embarrassment having their naked bodies pressed against each other. She'd never done anything so intimate with a person whom she knew so little, let alone a person who forced her outside her comfort zone. For a moment Simon appreciated her thwarted modesty, kissing both of her burning cheeks before speaking.

"Now, Sandra," he spoke carefully, like a parent warning a naughty child, "now that we're ready for our game to begin, I'm going to remove your gag, because I want to be able to hear your enjoyment."

Very conscious of his large cock nudging around between her legs, Sandra shifted nervously, not making a sound. She knew she treaded on very thin ice. 

"But," he continued menacingly, "you're not going to give me any trouble. You're not going to disobey or upset me. Because if you do, you'll be very sorry to discover that you haven't seen my ugly side yet."

Bleakly, Sandra stared up into the black fire of his eyes and meekly nodded. If his current actions were what he considered to be best behaviour, she didn't want to imagine how his ugly side would treat her. 

Supporting himself with one arm, he gently worked at the knot securing the scarf to her face.

"Kind of scratchy, isn't it," he commented, easing the rough gag out of her mouth and off her head, "no wonder you've been so quiet." He tossed it aside and looked down at her, like a kid about to eat birthday cake.

"I've missed these lips," he whispered, "open your mouth, sweetheart."

Seeing the terror in her eyes, Simon's heart beat more rapidly and his eyes narrowed in lust as she complied without argument, opening wide. Eyes closing, he quickly fastened his lips to hers, merging their tongues and angling his head to warm her up to it. One of his hands moved between them to caress her breasts.

With his tongue in her mouth and his muscular, naked body moving against her, Sandra could barely think. She'd given up on escape - if she couldn't get away at the office, or be safe in her own apartment, there was little point attempting to form some ridiculous plan to get this naked man off her and out of her life. 

Her jaw still ached from forcing his cock into her mouth at the office, and any moment now he was going to put that huge thing inside her. With this realisation the blood began to pound in her head and she felt faint, or perhaps it was the heat of his naked form enveloping her. At least it wouldn't come as a shock - she'd have warning, though it gave her little comfort. Given their vast height difference he would have to stop kissing her, to move up her body in order for them to properly fit together, to join as one.

Petrified of that incoming moment, and imagining what the future held in store for her alongside this psycho, Sandra went to pieces and cried under him as he continued to grind against her. As his kisses shifted, alternating between her mouth and her cheeks, she tasted her own tears on his lips.

The hand massaging her breasts slipped down between their writhing bodies and Simon gently cupped her pussy, circled her swollen clit with his thumb, and dipped a finger inside her a little, less than a centimetre. Suddenly he stopped kissing her and jerked his head back in astonishment. Against her will, Sandra opened her eyes to face him. Noting the look on his face, she had no doubt he knew.

The light pouring in through the open window eerily illuminated the usually darkened bedroom. Simon stared down at Sandra as though hypnotised, ecstatic realisation dawning across his features. All the while his finger continued to gently probe around her entrance, thumb still brushing her core, torturing her. 

"You're dripping wet!" he exclaimed.

If she was blushing before, now she felt like her whole face was on fire from both the heat of her involuntary arousal and the awful knowledge that he had finally discovered it. 

Simon watched her for a moment wonderingly, absorbing this new information, his expression a mix of triumph and surprise.

"Well, Sandra," he breathed, and his eyes mocked her. "I think you're ready for me..."



Overpowered at the Office Ch. 06



Sandra stared up at Simon with wide eyes and her full lips parted to contradict him, but no sound came out. As much as she wanted to lie, she couldn't - her body had spoken for her. 

Simon, seeing the stunned, defeated look on her face, didn't wait for a response. Sandra watched in confusion as his chest suddenly rose above her. In frustration he tipped his head and arched his back in perfect imitation of the 'Cobra' yoga pose, giving her a clear view of his solid physique, the strain in his thick, taut arms betraying the tension in his body.

As Simon arched, in his mind he made all kinds of promises to a God he didn't believe in to suppress his climax. Just being naked on top of Sandra felt better than any sex he'd ever had. Feeling an unfamiliar longing, he realised that as much as he needed to get inside her, he wanted to withhold his orgasm for the right moment. He'd just been gifted with an invaluable prize, and had every intention of holding her unwilling arousal over her head like his trophy. Her body's response was like a silent submission to his dominance, infinitely more precious than the coerced film on his phone.

When Simon discovered Sandra's incredible wetness, realised her body wanted him much earlier than anticipated, a thousand exciting thoughts followed and he very nearly came. What stopped him was the mental image that he wouldn't get to take her like he promised, he wouldn't make her come, that she would somehow triumph over him sexually. It was enough that he couldn't control his desire for her - she wasn't going to get more than that over him. 

While it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do, while his cock roared abuse at him for even considering his next action, Simon decided to retreat. He needed to collect his thoughts and calm his overheated body. With Sandra trapped right where he wanted her, he could afford to take the time to cool off. He wasn't fool enough to ignore the fact that the current hold he had on himself was dangerously temporary. Leaving Sandra would hurt him, but if he didn't walk away now he was going to lose, and that wasn't an option for their first time together.

"FUCK!" he screamed angrily, making her cry out in fright beneath him. Without any explanation he dragged himself from the bed and stalked naked from the room, leaving her bewildered and not least of all, relieved. 

As soon as he was through the door Sandra immediately rolled onto her stomach, not believing her luck at literally the last minute. Ignoring the humiliating slickness between her thighs and trying not to get tangled in her open robe, she used the scarf to pull herself up onto her knees by the headboard. 

Not spending a second thought on when or whether Simon would come back, she made the most of her precious moment alone and frantically worked at the knots around her wrists. They were brutal, pulled furiously tight by Simon in his determination to keep her helpless while he did his worst. Idly she wondered why he'd stormed out in a rage. 

'That fucker, is definitely on drugs,' she thought absently, shifting to manipulate the tangled scarf with one hand at a time. Fortunately she was talented with undoing knots, and in her current state of urgency her desperate fingers made short work of the restraints. She barely flinched when she caught a nail, drawing blood.

Finally getting both hands free, Sandra took a deep breath as she pictured her future like a dawning sunrise. She'd turn Simon in to the police and not care whether he spent time in jail. She no longer wanted revenge, justice or retribution. She didn't give a fuck if he sold the sex tape online and made a million dollars, didn't care if the whole world called her a whore - she was going to be free. She'd abandon her beloved job in a heartbeat and disappear. He'd never have power over her again. Tears ran down her cheeks as she fought to control her movements and make minimal noise. 

Rubbing her sore wrists, she paused, listening. If she heard him coming back, she would scream out the window. It didn't matter if the police thought she was a petty attention-seeker, their arrival would cut the assault short. Then again, Sandra knew very well that if she screamed Simon would silence her quickly, possibly before anyone could decipher where her cry for help originated. The better thing would be to sneak down the hall and out the door to immediate physical freedom. Riskier, but without question the more worthwhile option.

As she crept toward the door she listened for footsteps. Simon wouldn't bother to tread quietly if he believed she was still tied up. Sandra could hear the kitchen tap running full force. Shutting out her terror and all accompanying thoughts that might shake her resolve, she nimbly darted from the room and dashed past the kitchen down the hall. 

***************************************

In the kitchen, Simon turned on the tap and splashed cold water over his face and body, particularly his protesting cock. 

If he was going to do this thing properly, he couldn't be stopping and starting, with the nagging possibility he might explode without notice. Angrily he acknowledged he should have realised this when he'd first had Sandra's breast in his mouth, but he'd been too distracted by her amazing body, accessibly naked under the robe. 

Simon's bruised ego was reeling from the fact that for the first time ever, he had been forced to back down from a sexual encounter. With women he always had masterful control over himself; he was never quick unless he wanted to be, he took as long as he wanted, he came when he chose.

A combination of sexual frustration, anger, and male pride formed one irrational thought - his overwhelming reaction to Sandra was somehow her fault, she'd set him up. He hadn't expected to find her so scantily clad, and he hated how close his plans had come to disaster on the one occasion it actually mattered to him. A part of him hated Sandra for making him want her more than any other woman. 

Musingly Simon wondered if he should masturbate. After exploring her body so intimately he would no doubt release quickly, and then he could start over again without worrying about an unexpected climax. His expression morphed from a murderous scowl into a Cheshire cat grin when he considered he could get three orgasms in the same night, courtesy of Sandra, who'd done everything in her limited power to spurn his advances. The third time would be the charm - they'd come together. Boy, was she in trouble.

The moment he turned off the tap, his fantasising was cut short by the faintest snippet of sound - a floorboard creak.

'Impossible!' he thought incredulously, ironically imitating Sandra's shock when she'd heard him close her balcony door.

A shadow dashed past the doorway. He lithely poked his head out in time to see Sandra tiptoeing, still in her robe, down the hall.

Blinding rage clouded his mind as he charged after her. After already making him feel inadequate, she was going to leave and make a complete fool out of him! 

Sandra's hand barely touched the front door before two bare arms circled her waist, lifted her like she weighed nothing and tossed her over a rock-hard surface, temporarily knocking the breath from her body. Staring at the ground from the great height of Simon's shoulder she gasped, struggling to catch her breath, while her mind screamed 'NO! NO! NO!'

Simon carried her into the bedroom and threw her unceremoniously onto the bed. He quickly slammed the window shut and stood naked above her with a foreboding expression darkening his brow. Accustomed to his dark eyes simmering hot in arousal like melted chocolate, now they glared at her in his fury like cold, solid onyx. Sandra held her robe closed and cowered on the bed beneath his towering rage.

"How the hell did you get out?" Simon thundered, feeling both inexplicable anger and deep admiration for the woman in front of him. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to beat her up or get down on both knees and propose. Not only had he underestimated the effects of Sandra's physical appeal, he'd underestimated her courage and intelligence. He was twice her size and strength, had ambushed her in the night, tied her up, threatened her, and still she'd managed to almost escape him. He was furious with her for the fear she caused him, not fear of repercussions for his actions, but fear that she'd be out of his reach and gone from his life.

Not waiting for an answer, he stepped forward and grabbed her wrist. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he roughly dragged her across his lap. Sandra cried out and her heart sank with the knowledge that now he'd caught her again, her chances of escape reduced from minimal to zero.

Facing the floor, she lay across his naked lap, his large erection uncomfortably jutting into her side. Aware she had crossed a line in his eyes, she pleaded with him.

"Please, Simon," she begged, "you know you've taken this too far! You have to stop! Stop!"

Simon didn't answer, but she felt the air on her naked behind as he whipped the robe back. For a moment he pinched and kneaded, for the first time admiring the smooth, round firmness of her ass. Then she shrieked as he brought his hand down upon it.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

He didn't use his full strength, not even close, but he used enough force for his palm to sting, and her right buttock turned a lovely pastel shade of pink as she sobbed. 

Simon was furious, and painfully aroused. Luckily, the cold water and short time away from Sandra had somewhat calmed his body, and he felt confident he could continue where he left off. 

Giving her ass one last indulgent squeeze, he flipped her onto the bed without warning, roughly tearing the interfering robe from her shoulders and throwing it well away from the bed. Watching her, he decided it was better for her hands to be free, so he could have the pleasure of restraining her himself.

Now completely naked, Sandra instinctively held out both hands and braced herself for the impact of Simon's chest as he lunged at her like a football player, the force of him knocking her legs open, crushing her into the bed. 

As she tried to scratch him he easily caught her arms and held them above her, using his weight to press her deeper into the mattress. He noticed one of her hands was lightly bleeding - probably from undoing her bonds.

'Well, that'll teach her,' he thought angrily, though he made a mental note to tend to her hurt when he was finished.

No time for kisses and eager for the taste of her, he viciously licked her like an animal, from her collar bone right up to the top of her temple while she cringed away in disgust.

"Sandra," he breathed, moving upward until she faced his solid chest.

Sandra knew what the telltale shift up her body meant. As he planted a wet kiss onto the very top of her head, he lined his cock up and began to press forward between her legs, parting her pussy lips.

"Simon, please, no!" she wept into his chest, "Please, don't! What did I do to deserve this? Tell me, please, what did I do?"

He felt her warm tears on his chest, hardening his nipples as he strained not to bury himself completely in one thrust. 

"You're so fucking wet," he ground out, ignoring her plea. "Don't lie to me anymore. You're going to get what you want. I'm going to give it to you, I'm going to-" he exhaled sharply as he sank into her an inch.

"Ahhhh!!" she cried out, legs tensing around him. Even through her wetness she felt a burning ache as her pussy slowly expanded, stretching to accommodate his girth. "Stop! I can't, Simon, wait! I can't! Stop!"

"Shhhh..." he hushed her, and his hand blindly reached down to touch her breasts while the other held her wrists and supported his weight. His eyes were closed as he sank in another inch. "This is it, baby. Don't be afraid, I'll go slow...Oh God, Sandra, Oh god..." he moaned in pleasure. 

Sandra shut her eyes, not wanting to watch his wide chest move up and down as he slowly raped her. She bit her lip and tried to relax but groaned as her surprised pussy spasmed around the unfamiliar invasion, driving him wild. He slowly sank in a third inch.

"You're so wet for me," he said thickly, deliriously, pulling out slightly before pushing in again further, making her cry out in protest. "You're so wet...Sandra..."

It was true, she was gushing juices from their play before. Now her pussy produced more lubricant as it registered the natural motions of sex, helping him go deeper with less resistance. Soon enough, she felt her body begin to warm and with each small thrust trendils of pleasure rippled out from between her legs, extending down her limbs, up her torso right through to her chest. Just like he'd promised her earlier, the sex was starting to feel good.

"I hate you!" she screamed, trying to wrench her hands free of his grasp.

He laughed hoarsely, withdrawing an inch before pushing in again. She felt tighter than a closed fist. In all his imaginings, nothing could have prepared him for the elation of being inside her. As he slowly pumped he began to think of all the different ways they could have sex in future. He pictured himself bending her over, taking her from behind, watching her pussy stretch around him while he disappeared into her tightness as she moaned to receive him. 

"All of me," he gasped, in a trance, "you're going to take all of me..." he entered deeper.

"AGHHHH!" Sandra shrieked, her pleasure stunted as she was stuffed with six inches of the biggest cock in her life, knowing there was more to come. Like a terrified child calling for the safety of its mother, she instinctively screamed for the protection of her ex boyfriend. "OH GOD, PETER, HELP ME!!" 

Simon at this point, despite his searing desire, despite her calling out another man's name, felt an inkling of remorse. He didn't want to brutalise her, in his deluded mind he decided their relationship would be long-term. Soon enough her body would adapt to accepting his size, as girlfriends do when they date a new guy, but he knew he had to take care in their first encounter if he didn't want to hurt her. He knew she wouldn't orgasm like this. He pulled out a little and she sighed in relief.

"Sandra," he panted, "Sandra, I'm trying." With a huge effort, he slowly withdrew completely, and she winced as he exited her tight tunnel with a very audible 'pop'.

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered into her forehead, leaning his chin against her, brushing his lips along her hairline. "I'm trying my best."

Straining her neck to look up into his crazy eyes, seeing him stare blindly ahead at the wall in front, she believed him. But she also believed he was completely bonkers.

"Sandra," he gently scolded, "you can't make so much noise. I don't want to have to gag you again." Like her, his skin shone with sweat from his exertion, his broad chest moved with his heavy breathing.

Sandra, thanking God he was no longer inside her, arched her back and craned her neck to look up at him, trying to wipe the horror from her face.

"Could we rest a moment," she pleaded, "for me?" She fought her feelings and tentatively kissed his chest.

Feeling her willing mouth on his body, he leaned back to look down at her. She forced a smile up at him, and it quivered across her pretty face. 

"I'm yours, Simon," she continued breathlessly, trying to look seductive, figuring out his sickness, "I submit to you, and only you. Show me mercy." She watched him consider, saw him encouraged by the fake flirtation in her eyes.

Deciding to give her a short break, he slowly released her hands, wondering at the sudden change in her, loving it, taking it for granted in his lust. He eased back, kneeling between her spread legs, and wrapped a tight fist around his cock.

"That's it, Simon," Sandra cooed, arching her back, pretending to enjoy his other hand roaming across her naked breasts. "I'll make it up to you," she offered tremulously, trying not to cry. "You won't regret it," she panted, flinging an arm back in feigned passion, hand desperately rummaging along her bedside table.

"Yes, I knew you'd come around," Simon smirked triumphantly, pinching her breasts with one hand while he pumped his cock with the other. His eyes were dazed, he felt drunk in his desire. The victory and immense power he was experiencing went straight to his head and clouded his senses. 

"You belong to me now, I am your master," he continued, masturbating over her. "You're mine. You're going to love me," he claimed hotly.

Finally, a sob caught in her throat as she found what she was looking for. "I'm ready for you now, take me!" she insisted shakily, rubbing one hand up and down his chest, caressing him, feeling his breath catch at her touch.

Simon didn't need telling twice and surged forward, probing once again at her tight pussy. Body to body, cheek crushed against his chest, Sandra squeezed her eyes shut and swung her arm around. 

Simon screamed, feeling the shocking stab of something sharp and cold penetrate his side.

For a split second Sandra faced his accusing stare, his face twisted in pain and rage at her betrayal, before she felt a blow to the side of her head, turning her whole world black.



Overpowered at the Office Ch. 07



Sandra slowly roused from unconsciousness to the beat of gentle music. Despite the persistent throbbing in her head, she was comfortably supported on a soft surface, but it wasn't her bed. Eyes still closed, she recognised the song 'With or Without You' by U2 playing, and dreamily wondered how much alcohol she'd consumed to warrant such a hangover.

"On a bed of nails, she makes me wait..."

Sandra's eyes snapped open as she recognised Simon's deep voice floating out of the kitchen. Over the next few seconds the night's events flooded back to her, and she sat up with a jerk. It was still night, and by the light streaming in from the kitchen she figured out her surroundings. The tacky, glow-in-the-dark orange clock on her mantlepiece read 2.20am. She was lying sideways on her velvet grey sofa, covered in a light blanket, half propped up with pillows.

Wriggling the blanket down past her waist, Sandra could see her arms had been retied, but not at her wrists. The same summer-coloured silk scarf that had restrained her to the bed was now elaborately wrapped around her elbows, and trying to figure out the complicated pattern to their undoing only enhanced her headache. Her legs were free.

Looking further down Sandra discovered she was no longer naked - she'd been dressed in a tight-fitting white singlet, no bra, and black cotton panties. Leaning back to inspect her hands, she could see the bind marks on her wrists from her struggles before, and that her torn finger had been expertly bandaged, twice. A little overkill, but thorough.

Though her hands were technically free, her movements were extremely awkward. While curled on her side in a traditional sleeping position, her elbows fit together comfortably, but now that she was half sitting up, she learned how limited her mobility was. 

"With or without you, whooooaaahhh..." Simon sang, and the sound of his rich, vibrant voice sent a pleasurable thrill down Sandra's spine. In song, his voice was attractively strong, sexy, and infectious enjoyment resonated with every word. Just another thing about him that the girls at work would drool over. Momentarily baffled with reality, Sarah realised how very little she knew about Simon. Who would have thought the guy could sing, and that she could enjoy it after what had passed between them? 

Hearing movement Simon poked his head through the doorway. "Awake, are you?" he said cheerfully, before ducking back into the kitchen.

Confused by his good mood, Sandra was speechless. She clearly remembered being half raped, stabbing him with her Chinese hair stick, thinking she was about to die. 

The music cut out as Simon finished up what he was doing. Balancing a plate in one hand, he turned off the kitchen light on his way out. In the lounge-room the blinds had been opened, and as her eyes adjusted Sandra could see he'd put his black underwear back on, but nothing else. After running her eyes over his flexing biceps and hard chest, she noted that the injury to his side had been efficiently patched up. Only a faint red stain marked the centre of the large bandage taped over him.

"Took me a while to find your first aid kit," Simon commented, noticing where her attention lay. "I almost gave up. Thought I'd have to run out and buy one. Hope you don't mind the sight of blood, there's a lot of it in the bathroom. I cleaned all of it off you, though."

Setting a plate of sandwiches down on the glass coffee table in front of Sandra, he leaned over and clicked on the tall lamp by the side of the couch, showering them in dull, intimate lighting. 

"I didn't think you'd mind if I dressed you, just a little," he said cheekily. "Thought it'd be cute if we had matching coloured undies."

Sandra just stared at him.

Simon stood to his full height, looking down at her thoughtfully. He lifted his large arms in a tentative stretch, not completely straightening to reach full length. Then he dropped his arms half-way, and twisted his toned torso side to side with a small grimace.

"You surprised me, Sandra," he nodded. "I wasn't expecting it. But you didn't even hit inch-deep. You lack stamina, girl, but not guts." He moved around the coffee table and casually eased himself down onto the couch near Sandra's feet, and she quickly drew her knees toward her chest to avoid his nearness. 

"For a small flesh wound it hurt like a bitch," he confided, leaning forward and reaching across her to pick up a sandwich. "When I disinfected and sewed up, it hurt like a mother-fucker. I'm surprised my swearing didn't wake you."

Maliciously, Sandra regretted he didn't wake her - she'd have liked to hear him yowl in pain. Having never stabbed anyone before, she had no idea what strength it actually took to penetrate through skin and flesh. When she'd mustered up the courage to try and really hurt him, she was more focused on going through the motions than being effective. Not giving a second thought to consequences or how she'd escape, she was in survival-mode - her only objective was to stop him from impaling her. 

"Don't worry, I'm over it. I hold no grudges," he said quietly, before biting into the sandwich. While he chewed, he stared absently ahead, his face was serious in thought. After swallowing, he continued. "Don't be afraid of me, Sandra. I've never struck a woman before. I only hit you because I had to. I needed to check the damage and I meant to temporarily stun you, not knock you out cold." He didn't face her directly, but watched her from the corner of his eye as he finished the sandwich.

The knock to her head wasn't too bad, Sandra knew. After she made her desperate move and saw the awful look on Simon's face, she was 100% sure he was going to kill her, that she faced certain death. Right before he'd struck, she was in the beginning stages of passing out from fear. Given his strength, she reckoned he could have punched her head clear off her shoulders if he wanted to. 

"How did you know what to do?" Sandra nodded at his injury.

Glancing down at his side then back at her, his eyes lightened, pleased she was talking to him. "Before I joined our company four years ago, I was a medical intern. I'm no brain surgeon, but I know the basics of tending minor injury."

"You? Helping sick people?" she replied dryly.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Sandra," he said shortly. "You'll realise that once you get to know me better."

"I'm not interested. I've found out everything I need to know," she said, carefully keeping her voice calm. At least he was talking and not acting on his urges. In his current mood he might listen to her.

"Look, I know I've screwed up," he admitted, shifting to face her. "I know I've been a total asshole. Ok," he added, as her eyebrows shot upwards indignantly, "I've been an absolute fucking monster." 

"Are you going to let me go?" she asked, trying not to sound desperate. 

For a moment he frowned down at his large hands. "I think that ship sailed a while ago." He looked up from his palms and turned to her. "Are you hungry?" he gestured to the plate on the table.

"Not at all. Why can't you let me go?" she tried again.

"I could feed you, you know," he inclined his head toward the plate, and his dark eyes grew warm. "I'd really enjoy that."

"Why can't you let me go?" she repeated, ignoring his suggestion. 

Simon pointedly met her eyes. "Because the simple truth is, I don't want to. I thought I knew what I was doing, but I can see now that I went about things the wrong way. I was too fast with you. I went crazy when you almost got away, and I couldn't think clearly. I really haven't had a clear thought in my head since I kissed you at work. 

"And honestly, I'm glad you stopped me before it was too late. I know you think I'm nuts, but I want to be with you, Sandra, I'm serious." 

As she turned away angrily, rolling her eyes, he persisted. "I don't have to be this guy. I mean, this isn't who I am. It's not fair that you won't give me a chance. It's not as though I don't give you pleasure too-"

"You don't give me any pleasure," she interrupted him.

Simon tipped his head back and laughed. "Sure I don't. That's why you were so wet before. It had nothing to do with my kisses, me fingering you, sucking your tits. It was just that time of night, right?"

Sandra had no comeback and blushed at the reminder of everything he'd done to her, and how her body responded. But it wasn't her fault - it wasn't as though she led him on. How could it have occurred to her that Simon, after already getting his rocks off at the office, would decide to play Tarzan and break into her apartment in full business attire?

"Sorry, I totally forgot," Simon muttered guiltily, more to himself than her, and rose from the couch. She watched his large, half-naked frame disappear into the kitchen and heard her fridge door open and shut. 

Coming back into the lounge-room, he pulled the coffee table away from the couch and bent over her face. With one hand he held her chin steady and with the other applied an ice-pack to her head.

"Arrrrrhhh," Sandra shut her eyes and winced as her throbbing temple was unpleasantly encased in chilling, ice-cold pressure. After a moment the pain subsided a little, as the ice numbed the inflammation. She opened her eyes and saw Simon had crouched down in front of her, his face only inches away from her own.

"I'm really sorry about this. Does it hurt?" he whispered in concern.

"Of course it hurts, you dumb prick," she snapped back at him, wiping the worried look off his face and making him grin widely at her attitude.

"God, I love you," he confessed, and pressed his mouth to hers. This time his kiss was gentle, tender. He didn't force her mouth open or make her lips feel bruised. After a short moment he pulled back and looked at her searchingly. No longer overcome by lust, all traces of the disturbing, unstable intensity had left his face. But the affection in his eyes was almost as disconcerting. 

"If you really think you're telling the truth," he murmured, holding her gaze, "if you honestly believe you don't want me, I will make you a last deal. Well, not quite a deal. But there'll be no tricks, no strings attached, nothing." He released her chin but kept the ice-pack against her head, and settled comfortably onto his knees beside the couch in front of her.

"Another shitty bargain you're going to film and use against me?" Sandra asked cynically.

"No," Simon vehemently shook his head. "I don't need to blackmail you. I know you're either blatantly lying about how you feel, or you just don't realise it. Personally, I believe it's the former, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."

"Well, what now?" she asked impatiently.

"We'll have sex," he answered her straight away. When she opened her mouth to argue he cut her off. "Don't worry, I'll get you wet and ready. Then you'll go on top, in complete control, at your own pace. I won't force you to take anything you can't handle." Simon's eyes began to heat up as he imagined her straddling him. 

"No way," Sandra countered firmly, moving her head away from the ice-pack. 'On top' was her favourite position, and she knew that by instigating the erotic motions herself, she'd be digging her own grave, building her own orgasm with each thrust. Additionally, she didn't trust him not to catch it on film. 

"There has to be something else," she argued.

Simon chewed his lower lip as he considered. "I can compromise," he said slowly, "but you'll have to trust me."

"I can hardly wait to hear this," Sandra retorted sarcastically.

"Put yourself in my hands," he replied confidently, his dark eyes alight with mischief, "and I'll show you mind-blowing pleasure without hurting you. I know you're worried about my size, but I won't fuck you like some grunting barbarian. Let me make love to you. If you come, you'll commit to date me for three weeks, and give me a chance to prove I'm worth your time. If you don't climax, I'll leave you alone forever. I'll quit the company and move inter-state.

"If you were being honest with me before, then it should be a no-brainer." He rubbed a hand across his chin, watching her eyes flash as she absorbed his words. "But letting you go now is not an option, it never was, so don't even bother suggesting it. If you choose to fight me, I'll try not to hurt you but I can't guarantee it - this is a fact, not a threat. 

"After our tryst, I'll even let you go to the police, that's your prerogative. You might have a bruise on your head, but I have a hole in my side, and friends in high places. So know that if you do go to the police, I'll vigorously fight your version of events, and don't think for a moment that I won't fight dirty. Those are my terms." 

"Will you untie me?" Sandra inquired, raising her trapped elbows.

Simon shrugged his broad shoulders. "Sure, I'll untie you, but don't double-cross me again. I can understand where you were coming from earlier, I actually respect you more for it. But if you take another shot at me, I'll truss you up like a turkey and, believe me, you'll really hate it." Lips pursed together, he exhaled through his nose, a little frustrated. "I was careless with you before. I'm not going to lose my head this time."

"B-but you...you're...you've...I stabbed you!" Sandra protested, genuinely amazed. What would it take for this guy to back down? His calculating ability and physical strength seemed unlimited, and her mind was still whirling from the discovery that he was medically trained and could sing. Going by her luck, he was probably best friends with the Pope. What other skills did he have that she wasn't aware of? Circus acrobat? Psychic extraordinaire? 

'Is he even human?!' she wondered incredulously. 

"Your jab was superficial," he said lightly, as though trying to reassure her. "Actually, it's merely as though a referee called half-time on us. I actually needed a breather, though I would have enjoyed it more without being stabbed. And no, I'm hardly affected by what happened. I have a very high pain threshold." 

'High pain threshold, great,' thought Sandra, 'another item on your list of unfair advantages.'

Sandra leaned sideways onto the pillows and covered her face with her hands, thinking. She was exhausted, too tired to fight anymore, and a significant part of her was substantially relieved that he hadn't retaliated with life-threatening violence when she'd stabbed him. Frankly, she was too grateful to be alive to be difficult.

Until she could get the upper hand another way, the best she could do was try and beat him at his own game. If she agreed to his first suggestion, within 5 minutes she knew she'd be stuck dating him for three weeks, plus she suspected he wanted her on top to take the pressure off his injury. Clearly aware of how she felt about his size, he would be gentle with her. All she had to do was hold off an orgasm, how difficult could it be?

"Ok," Sandra's voice was muffled as she spoke through her hands, and Simon eagerly leaned closer to hear her. "You can try, but it won't happen." She raised her head from her hands and sulkily met his eyes. "And I'm not going on top, I'm too tired."

'And when you do all the work, I hope your wound causes excruciating pain,' she thought spitefully.

"Does this couch convert into a sofa-bed?" he asked unexpectedly, leaning back to survey its structure.

"W-What? Why?" Sandra stuttered, confused.

"Because I don't think the bed is a good idea right now," he said smoothly, "you might find the bloody sheets off-putting."

"O-Ohh," she frowned at him, trying to collect her scattered thoughts. "This-this...can be...can be a bed," she said stupidly. 

Sandra felt like Alice in an X-rated Wonderland. Her night was becoming more and more surreal. Less than 7 hours ago they were mere colleagues, then he'd abused her humiliatingly, he'd broken into her home and pretty much raped her, and in return she'd tried to kill him. Now, due to both exhaustion and the immense relief that she was still breathing, Sandra was cooperating, and he was treating her like a cherished lover, enthusiastically planning sex with the goal of giving her pleasure. It was an incredibly backward turn of bizarre and unlikely events.

Sandra's reverie was interrupted as Simon stood, pulling her up with him. Her balance was severely affected by her elbows being almost stuck together, and she blushed as his hands supported her around the waist. He directed her to sit on a nearby one-seater, dragged the coffee table well out of the way and went about setting up the sofa-bed. 

For a moment her heart stopped and her mouth dropped open as he pulled a small knife out of the waistband of his underwear. 

"Don't worry," he said casually, severing the scarf from her arms, "I'll buy you ten more." 

Throwing the small blade across the room, it clattered into a dark undisclosed location. Simon, smiling in amusement as she tried to see past him to where it had landed, easily scooped her up and carefully deposited her onto the extended sofa-bed. Once again kneeling over her, he brushed her soft hair from her eyes and kissed her passionately. Unlike before, he wasn't forceful or aggressive.

After a while his lips travelled from her mouth and across her cheek to blow in her ear, gently tugging on her sensitive ear-lobe. He kissed down her neck, while beneath him she gripped the sides of his large arms nervously, wondering what next.

Sandra meekly released her hold on him as he leaned back from her, his hands moving downwards to flatten over her belly, just above the waistline of her panties, warming her with their touch. Then his hands slowly slid up under her singlet, over her stomach and ribcage. They came to rest just beneath her breasts, causing her nipples to harden in anticipation. Again, he leaned over her and his lips lowered to move against the slim column of her neck. Again she felt the heat emitting from his bare skin as he moved in close.

It was very different experience for Sandra, being handled gently, unrestrained, not having him grind into her threateningly. Fairly confident now that he wouldn't hurt her, though she was still anxious, she felt the tension begin to leave her body. Already the pain in her head was forgotten as her breathing increased with her heart-rate. Suddenly, she remembered their agreement.

'Think of something terrible,' she told herself, trying to ignore how much she wanted his hands to move upwards. Her mind worked to distract her body. 'Starving children...death...animal cruelty...'

With Simon kissing her neck, she felt her lower body begin to heat up as his fingertips gently danced along the curved underside of her breasts.

'Rubbish tip...bankruptcy...old age...' her mind chanted lamely.

Suddenly her body took control and without thinking, she put her hands on his wrists and guided his hands upwards, sighing in relief as they immediately complied, cupping her breasts, massaging her, circling her nipples.

'Shit! Shit! Shit!' she thought angrily, realising her weakness too late. Trying to push his wrists down again, they didn't budge, and she heard him chuckle. Her mind rallied behind her, like a cheer-team egging on a losing boxer. 'Don't worry...not a big deal...just breast-play...' 

Simon had stopped kissing her neck and Sandra instantly regretted opening her eyes as they clashed with his. His dark eyes intently bored into hers and his lips curved into a small predatory smile, silently telling her that he was in complete control.

"Uhhh..." Sandra couldn't withhold a moan as he caressed her, and stared up into his burning gaze uneasily, stupidly hoping he hadn't heard.

"Yes," he encouraged, watching her expectantly, "it feels good, doesn't it?"

"No," she lied, but she bit her lip and her back slowly arched as she fought to control her breathing. She felt an ache begin to build between her legs, and she shifted beneath him nervously.




Overpowered at the Office Ch. 07



"I bet you're wet now," he whispered, watching her struggle to stay still. "I think you're going to lose this one, Sandra, or is it really a win?" he teased.

She glared up at him, her face twisted in pleasure and frustration. 

Keeping eye contact he slowly released her breasts and moved his hands down to push her singlet up over her chest, exposing her. For a moment they watched each other, and Simon stared into the depths of her light-coloured eyes, glittering with embarrassment and restrained arousal. Then he lowered his head and kissed her pouting breasts, gently sucking, using his tongue, his hot breath stimulating her sensitive flesh. 

'Nails on chalkboard...' her mind continued half-heartedly, and her hands absently slid up over his smooth shoulders to grip his head while he used his mouth on her. 'Great white sharks... mud... slime...rotting corpses...Oh God...fuck...fuck...'

"Simon," she suddenly gasped, "please..."

"Please, what?" he taunted, raising his head to look at her.

"Stop this," she panted, shutting her eyes, not wanting to face his confident stare. Sandra knew she was rapidly losing control, and that he knew it too, the bastard.

"What are you going to do?" he moved up from her chest and kissed her lips, cheeks and behind her ear before shifting back onto his heels, sliding his hands over her naked breasts, down her waist, his touch sending waves of heat across her body. 

"Don't be ashamed of how I make you feel, Sandra," he breathed, stroking her hips, "listen to your body."

"Simon, stop!" Hating his cockiness, Sandra wriggled her torso, trying to shift his hands from her hips.

"What are you going to do?" Simon repeated, smiling down at her triumphantly. "Stop enjoying it? Do you think you can do that?" Still watching her, he moved forward, gently nudging his hardening groin against hers, the mild pressure causing her pussy to pulsate with increasing urgency. Against her will, her hips pushed back in response, seeking more pressure, searching for relief. 

Aggravated by both her lack of control and his mocking her, in a trance of her own daring, Sandra slowly lifted a hand and jabbed her fingers into his wound. Simon's torso jerked above her, and she saw him clench his teeth as his face tensed in pain.

Looking down, he warningly raised an eyebrow. "You want me to tie you up?"

Hazel eyes wide, she shook her head.

"Then don't do that again." he said softly. After a moment he tilted his head and his gaze hardened. "You want me to fuck you rough?" he asked pointedly.

Sandra vigorously shook her head.

"You've seen me excited, you've seen me angry, but you haven't seen my rough side, Sandra. If you really want disciplining, I'll happily fuck you up the ass. Don't think I won't go there if you test me." He stared at her for a few tense seconds, letting the threat sink in. 

Finally, Simon tipped his head back smugly, still holding her gaze. "Try not to be such a sore loser, sweetheart."

Recovering from the sharp pain in his side, Simon focused on getting Sandra back into an aroused state. Admiringly, he kneaded her breasts, loving the way her hands unconsciously pressed him for more, the way her head angled back at his touch. After a while his hands left her chest and trailed down her body, coming to rest at her hips.

Sandra's disobedience forgotten, Simon grinned mischievously, his hands lingering around her hips. "You really have no idea what you're in for, do you?" On the last word he hooked two fingers around each side of her panties and pulled down.



Overpowered at the Office Ch. 08



As Simon dragged Sandra's panties down her legs and over her small feet, she kept her thighs tightly closed together. Tossing the scrap of black cotton aside, he winked at her.

"Open," he ordered, sliding his hands up her legs.

Sandra's face burned in embarrassment as she obeyed.

"Don't even think about kicking," Simon warned, backing off the sofa-bed until he knelt on the floor. He pulled her legs toward him so they hung over the edge. 

"Well, hello there. I've missed you," Simon smiled at her pussy. He raised his head a moment to check Sandra's reaction, and saw her stare blankly up at the ceiling, pretending not to hear him. 

"Your owner won't admit it, but I know you've missed me too," he teased, slyly lifting his head in time to see Sandra cringe angrily. Lowering his head, he inched closer and she felt his hot breath blow intimately between her legs.

"Oh!" she gasped in surprise, as his mouth fastened onto her inner thigh.

"Mmm-hmm, yes, you're delicious," Simon murmured against her soft skin. Fixing his eyes on her pussy, so close to his face, he forgot all about teasing her. 

"Oh, Sandra, I have been waiting to do this...all...night...long," he groaned, kissing his way to her heated centre, feeling her whole body seize up in pleasure. 

The bed tensed as her fists clenched the mattress at her sides, and for a long moment there was only the sound of Sandra's ragged breathing as Simon's hot mouth devoured her. 

"Try and pretend you don't like this, Sandra," Simon panted his victory from between her legs, his chest heaving with excitement, "I dare you." 

Slipping two hands under her perfectly rounded ass-cheeks, Simon lifted her and ducked his head underneath, playfully nipping a smooth, taut buttock. Then he moved back and continued going down on her, circling her clit with his tongue, placing sensual, torturous kisses all around her entrance.

"Oh, God," Sandra's eyes widened as he dipped a tongue inside, shooting waves of pleasure from her pussy straight to her brain. As his attentions progressed, a desire for more gathered within her.

"Oh- oh, God... oh, God...Simon, eat me!" she gasped, unconsciously raising her knees. She'd forgotten everything - who she was, where she was, everything but the feel of his amazing lips and tongue, making her crazy. 

Simon used every skill he knew to take her to the brink. As her thighs began to tremble around his face, he reluctantly pulled back, catching his breath after the excitement of tasting her so intimately and hearing her cry out his name.

"I think you want to ask me for something?" he panted, climbing up onto the bed to kneel above her, wildly staring into her stunned eyes. 

Sandra's brow furrowed as she met his burning gaze, struggling to think clearly, to recover from her sexual frustration. "I don't know," she said weakly.

"Yes, yes, you do," he encouraged. "You know what to say. Say it, Sandra. Ask me."

Sandra looked at his ecstatic handsome face, his jaw covered in her juices, and closed her eyes to the image, shaking her head. Simon confidently reached down, and her eyes flew open as his fingers danced over her pulsating pussy.

"Come on," he breathed, "come on, Sandra. You know what to say. Tell me you want me. I need to hear it." 

In the lamplight Sandra's bright hazel eyes shimmered like liquid gold. Noting her flushed cheeks, knowing she was very turned on, Simon became frustrated. How could she be so stubborn? 

"You're going to come, and you know it," he said harshly, spelling it out in a blunt reality check. "And you know it's going to be because of me. You're going to lose, and you're going to love it. We're both going to love it," he said hotly. 

Impatiently, he shook her shoulder with one hand. "Talk, Sandra," he growled. "Stop shutting me out, I've earned this." 

In lust, his jaw dropped open slightly as he slowly slipped a finger inside her, watching her breasts stretch toward the ceiling as she moaned.

"Say my name again, say it!" he panted, fingering her. In response she wrapped a hand around his wrist but didn't try to pull him away, instead she just held on as he worked on her. 

"Simon," she breathed.

"Yes? Yes? What?" he pressed her eagerly, unable to take his eyes from her tortured face. He brushed his thumb over her swollen clit as he pumped a second finger into her tightness, and her hips bucked upwards before she could stop herself.

"I want you, Simon," she said, in a small voice.

"How?" he asked urgently, his eyes narrowing in desire.

Sandra turned her face away and he had to strain to hear her. "I want you...I want you inside me."

"Again!" he demanded.

"I- I want you inside me," she said a little louder, hating herself, but unsure how to cope with the unfamiliar, irrational need for satisfaction.

"Again!" Simon yelled suddenly, startling her, and his hand left her shoulder to roughly turn her face toward him. He was losing control, becoming desperate for her to need him, like he needed her. "Use my name! You have to do better than that, Sandra!"

"No!" Sandra screamed back at him, her dignity pushed too far, "I won't! You can't make me!"

Before she could defy him further, Simon exhaled in his longing and his mouth swooped down onto hers, and again she could only moan into his face as he kissed her deeply. As her lips parted on his, she tasted her juices, felt his shaking hands move up to capture her breasts.

Sandra's whole body seemed to burn, like she was on heat, but she'd be damned if she'd admit it to him. With her singlet bunched up around her neck, her naked chest pressed to his, the position seemed more erotic than if she'd been fully naked. It was as though they were having some kind of 'sex fight', and Sandra believed she finally understood what people meant by 'angry sex'. She felt wild, primal, and reckless. While one hand grasped his shoulder the other reached down and boldly stroked his cock through his underwear, making him groan. 

Almost as soon as she traced his hardness, she dragged her hand away as reality flooded back to her. Immediately she regained the senses she'd discarded in lust, realised her surroundings, what she was doing. A deep, intense anger seemed to cut her from the inside as she recognised the situation she'd been forced into, what a fool he was making of her, while he enjoyed her body. 

Jerking her head back from his kiss, her eyes flashed at him as she threw it all in his face. 

"Fuck you, Simon" she hissed, spitting out each word like venom. "I don't want you, I don't need you. You disgust me!"

For a terrible moment they stared at each other, both struggling for breath. Sandra was panting from arousal, adrenaline and genuine shock at her own daring. Simon's chest heaved from barely restrained lust and the devastating blow of her rejection. With disastrously perfect timing, he felt the sharp pain in his side burn anew, as though her words had ripped open his wound. 

"You, bitch!" he snarled. The melting warmth in his eyes was replaced with volcanic-black ash as he spoke through clenched teeth. "Have it your way!"

Sandra cried out as he grabbed a fistful of her hair, dragged her up to him so their faces almost touched, and forced her over onto her stomach. With one hand she tried to disengage his hold while the other strained to push herself up from the sofa-bed. 

"You don't seem tired, as you said before," he observed mockingly, easily moving forward and sitting on her lower back so she couldn't budge. "You seem full of energy to me."

"Fuck you!" she screamed into the bed, struggling, her pretty face scrunched up in pain as he tightened his grip on her hair, holding her down. 

"I will, oh, I will," he growled, sliding back and easily tugging her up with him by her hair, onto all fours. "I will fuck you, Sandra, it's just a shame this is how you want it."

Keeping her docile with his hand mercilessly tangled in her locks, Simon angrily ripped his underwear down with his other hand, releasing his straining cock. 

For a moment his eyes flared as he gazed at her perfect body from behind, tensely bent over, trapped. But even in his intense arousal he felt an insuppressible rage build within as he recognised, despite his supreme physical dominance, he wasn't getting what he wanted. Simon had immensely enjoyed pursuing Sandra, he'd delighted in her fighting him, but now he needed her to ache for his touch, to want him and no one else. It was the one thing he couldn't physically force her to do, and it just happened to be the most important to him.

"I've had it with you!" Simon shouted, completely losing it, his composure collapsing as his grand plans of seduction shattered around him. "I've tried to be patient, but you just won't listen! Don't you get it?" 

Cruelly pulling on her hair with once hand, he brutally groped her pussy with the other, deliberately spreading her juices all around her thighs, and she squealed at his rough handling of her. "See how wet you are? You're wet for me! For me! Not some shit-head called Peter!" he screamed, insanely jealous of a man he'd never met.

Sandra shrieked in pain and rage as she felt him line up and push into her. 

"You can beg me for love, or you can beg me for mercy. It's your choice, but you'll be begging me for something, Sandra, that I promise you!" he ranted bitterly, sharply slapping her ass as he pressed forward.

Sandra grit her teeth and exhaled sharply as his cock forced its way inside her, again spreading her open, inch by inch. Determined to be silent, not to give him any reaction or response whatsoever, she turned her face into the soft mattress. She told herself to think of England, to let him do his worst without giving him the satisfaction of hearing her cries. 

"Maybe you'll know better when I knock you up," he muttered, painfully jabbing into her further. Though his thoughts were jumbled with fury and a desire to punish, Simon didn't thrust in completely. He wanted to teach her an unpleasant lesson, not tear her insides.

Horror spread across Sandra's face as she heard his words. In her focus on survival she never thought about pregnancy, and suddenly recognised her foolishness in persistently working against him. Nothing he had said or done that night could compare to the threat now laid before her.

"Simon wait! You can't! Please, Simon, wait!" she pleaded, discarding her resolve to be brave in a heartbeat. Dropping down onto her forearms, she frantically tried to escape as she felt herself again slowly being stuffed, feeling her pussy burn as she again seemed to split open to accommodate his size. He maintained his grip on her hair and leaned forward with her, sliding in deeper as the other hand distractedly stroked up and down her back, squeezing the bare flesh of her hip, pinching her ass.

"Oh, no! No! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Simon, please, look at me!" she wept, feebly trying to loosen his hold on her.

Simon paused, and Sandra felt him shudder behind her as he struggled to catch his breath. Though he was almost beyond leniency, he wasn't going to turn down an opportunity to hear her beg. 

Sandra whimpered in relief as he slowly raised his body and pulled out. She was so tight, to Simon it felt as though her small pussy was sucking onto him, trying to keep him inside her. He released her hair and roughly flipped her over to face him, raking a frustrated hand over his head. 

"Yes, Sandra?" he asked softly, though his chest belied his tone as it expanded, his breath coming hard and fast. Speaking gently, his quiet voice hummed with dangerously tested patience.

On her back, Sandra looked up at him fearfully, knowing she needed to appease him, whatever it took. She'd grovel, fake it, shove her pride through a shredder, it didn't matter - she could never carry this man's child. Trying not to curl into a ball and resisting the urge to pull her singlet down and cover her nakedness, she looked up at his tall, intimidating figure and earnestly ate her words. 

"I'm sorry, Simon," she said breathlessly, "I'm sorry about what I said before, I didn't mean it... I didn't mean it!"

Simon didn't move or respond, and her mind flashed back to when she was on the dusty floor in the file-room, begging him to let her go while he'd stood over her silently. 

"I want you," she insisted, "I do. I'll show you. I'll be good, I promise. Please," her voice shook as tears threatened to overcome her. "Please don't come inside me, Simon. I'll do anything."

Darkly watching her, Simon impatiently turned his head to the side and cracked his neck, considering her plea for a long moment before speaking. Sandra shivered, having never seen his eyes so callous. 

"Another trick, Sandra?" he asked coldly, raising a fist and slowly running his knuckles under his chin in a gesture as calculating as it was threatening. "Got another hair accessory behind your back?"

Under his fierce gaze Sandra shook her head, frightened. 

"You keep assuring me, and then you fight me," Simon said flatly, and though he kept his voice level, his jaw tightened in anger, and his brown eyes were mean. 

"This is your last chance, do you understand?" he told her sharply. "I've given you far more leeway than any other woman. I've tolerated insult after insult from you. I'm getting really, really sick of warning you, and not following through."

"I'm sorry," Sandra said, in a hushed voice. She sniffed and brushed a tear from her cheek, silently wondering what other women had suffered at his hands in the past.

Finally his body relaxed as he felt the anger leave his body, quickly replaced by a building desire as he recognised his disrupted plans were back on track. He leaned forward and gathered her into his arms so they were both upright, kneeling together. 

Willing to accept comfort from any source in her fear, Sandra buried her face in his chest as he held her, breathing in her hair. Although very ruffled, her tresses were surprising fresh and fragrant, despite the sweaty tussling they'd done throughout the night.

"We're going to make love," Simon whispered into the top of her head. He held her tight, loving the feel of her softness against him, trying to settle her as she quaked in his arms. 

"Don't cry," he soothed, easing her shoulders back so he could look down at her. He cupped her cheek with his hand, gently brushing the tears from her flushed face as she kept her eyes downcast, staring miserably at his wide chest. Then he pulled her against him, stroking one hand up and down her back until her trembling subsided. 

When he felt she'd sufficiently calmed down, he playfully pushed her and she fell lightly backwards, staring up at him nervously.

"Don't test me again, Sandra," he murmured, and it was clear in his voice that there would be no more chances. When she quickly shook her head to assure him she wouldn't, he gave her a last warning look before moving back down her body, lowering his face to her pussy.



Overpowered at the Office Ch. 09



Again Simon savoured the taste of Sandra, enjoyed her touch as her hands slid down to grip his head urgently. Cupping her ass cheeks with both hands he tilted his head upwards, gently circling and sucking on her sensitive nub, mouth widely smiling against her as she instinctively bucked into his face.

"Oh," Sandra sighed, her terrors completely forgotten. 

Glancing down, heat flashed throughout her body at the erotic sight of Simon's naked shoulders between her spread legs, sensually following the movements of his head as he ate her out. In her passion she hadn't noticed she'd laid hands on him, pressing him into her. She watched him through her lashes, noting the thin sheen of sweat coating his body, his skin glowing bronze in the dim lamplight. Her head dropped back and her body writhed in excitement as he inserted a finger, whilst running his tongue over her outside lips.

"Are you ready?" Simon asked hoarsely, having no idea what the fuck he'd do if she insulted him again.

"Yes..." Sandra uttered uncertainly, consumed with both fear and desire. 

After a last lingering lick, Simon's mouth left her pussy and passionately kissed up her body, over her abdomen, stomach and breasts. Supporting his torso with both arms, he leaned back to watch her face as he entered her.

"Tell me you want me," he whispered, nudging around her pussy with his cock.

"I want you, Simon," she immediately complied, not entirely sure what she wanted.

Satisfied, Simon didn't press her further on the point, and gently pushed in an inch, drawing in a sharp breath as he watched her gorgeous tawny eyes close, and her perfect breasts rapidly rise and fall in response. Carefully keeping his eyes on her face, he slid in a second inch.

Sandra wrapped her legs around him, urging him deeper, and he fought to get a hold on himself. With her legs around his waist, Simon ignored the throbbing pain in his side and eased up onto his hands and knees. Supporting himself on one arm, he circled her waist with the other and lifted her from the bed. On one hand and both knees, he lightly pumped into her a couple of times, feeling her body writhe in his hold, suspended completely off the bed. With a sexy half-smile he straightened, pulling her up with him. Still inside her, he leaned back further and further, until he hit the mattress and she was on top.

Simon's hands gripped Sandra's small waist, sliding upwards to capture her breasts as she straddled him. Curling forward, he reached up to pull the white singlet from around her neck over her head, throwing it across the room. Laying back, he was hypnotised by the sight her, naked on top of him just like he'd imagined. Simon absently licked his lips as he considered how incredibly sexy she'd look in all the different colours, textures and styles of lingerie he was going to buy her.

Sandra's legs slowly began to give out, sliding her further down over Simon's cock. Like a blind man searching for insight, his hands roamed all over her upper body, squeezing her breasts, brushing her nipples, reaching up to cup her lovely face. He ran his fingers over her full, parted mouth, dipping inside, and his body jolted beneath her as she sucked on his thumb. His large physique looked magnificent, straining and flexing in sexual tension as they moved together. 

Simon lifted his head and his dark eyes shone as he watched his cock partially disappear into her. Hypnotised by the sight, he reached forward to play with her pussy, and her torso stiffened above him as he stimulated her core. Still playing with her, his other hand slid from her mouth, over her waist, to firmly grip a rounded buttock. His hand squeezed her ass rhythmically with her movements, urging her to take him deeper on the downstroke.

Even in her excitement, Sandra began to sweat nervously, struggling to prevent herself from going all the way down. Searching for reprieve she leaned forward, tiredly resting both hands on his hard, smooth chest.

"Simon," she panted, looking down at him nervously, "I need to ask you something."

Interested, Simon helpfully moved both his hands to her waist, holding held her steady above him and taking the strain off her legs. 

"Yes?" he asked curiously, and watched in amusement as she dropped her head to look down at his cock, half inside her, before exhaustedly meeting his eyes. 

"What- I mean, how big are you?" she asked, exasperated.

Simon's head rested back into the mattress as he laughed weakly. "What's your guess?"

"Please," she pleaded, hovering over him restlessly, "just tell me."

"Am I hurting you?" Simon frowned up at her. 

"No-oo..." she faltered, and her pussy twitched around him, "I just...I don't think I can take all of you." 

"You can," he reassured her, nodding. "You're just not used to me, yet. You have the most amazing body, Sandra. You were made for sex."

"Well?" she persisted.

"Ok," he chuckled gently, closing his eyes in bliss and taking a deep, unsteady breath as he enjoyed the sensation of being inside her. "Eight and a half."

Sandra shook her head in disbelief. "I was sure you were ten plus."

"I'm flattered," Simon smiled wickedly, opening his eyes. With one supportive hand still massaging her hip, he traced the other up her body to idly fondle her left breast. 

"It's not a compliment," she glared down in response, annoyed by his humour and leisurely groping.

"You need to relax more," Simon advised her, tweaking a nipple. "You need to stop tensing. Not that it doesn't feel amazing when you tense up," he added. 

"I can't help tensing, I'm exhausted," Sandra complained, feeling her arms begin to ache as she held herself up over him. Suddenly, 'on top' didn't seem like such a great position when she didn't know how much was going up inside her. 

"We can switch?" he offered. "Don't worry, I've been with a lot of women, Sandra. I know I'm not too big. It's just you're not used to sex. You'll get used to it, trust me."

"Whatever," she mumbled, not wanting to think beyond the moment.

Slowly he moved his hand from her breast, lifted her waist up, and she felt his thick cock slide out of her. Rolling her over, he followed her movement and rolled on top. 

"Just take deep breaths," he said gently, brushing the hair from her eyes. "I want you to tell me 'yes' as I go in, and if it hurts, say 'no', and I promise I'll listen, ok?"

"Alright," Sandra agreed reluctantly, as though accepting an impossible assignment.

Reaching down, Simon skilfully played with her pussy, fingering, massaging, stroking, until he felt her heat up to his touch. Continuing to fondle her, he bent and placed feverish kisses all over her mouth, cheeks, neck and breasts, until she was panting and breathless. More than anything, he wanted to fuck her senseless, but had to console himself that he could do that later.

Kissing her neck, he moved his hand from her pussy and hooked it under one leg, drawing it up as he leaned in. Then he caught her other leg, pushing her knees toward her chest, stretching her open. His body moved closer, edging forward into the mattress until again his chest was in her face.

"Ohhh," Sandra moaned against him as his cock nudged inside, withdrew slightly, then pushed in deeper. 

"Sandra?" Simon paused questioningly.

Sandra's eyes opened as she remembered her instructions.

"Ok, yes," she breathed, "yes..."

"Oh, fuck," Simon groaned, squeezing in a third inch. He was determined to listen to her, at the same time her feedback caused an incredible desire to course through his veins. Could he last?

"Yes," Sandra chanted, shutting her eyes as he first pumped four, then five, six, seven inches into her, increasing his pace. "Yes, Simon...God, yes!" 

"Wait! No!" Sandra's eyes shot open in panic, and she dug her nails into his hips, halting him.

Simon clamped his eyes shut as his face tightened with unbearable restraint. Releasing one of her legs, he reached down and gently rubbed her wet pussy, careful not to press forward further.

"Tell me," he ground out, eyes still closed in the agony of his frustration, wondering who really had the upper hand, whether she tortured him on purpose. "Just- just...tell me....when." 

Simon felt her nod in understanding, and for another thirty seconds he patiently played with her, until he felt some of the tension leave her body as she was again taken over by arousal.

"Ok..." she confirmed unsteadily, "yes...yes..."

'Thank fuck,' he thought, and on a long shaky breath he re-hooked her leg under his arm and slowly slid inside her completely, praying she didn't stop him again. At first he felt her legs tense, and then ease up as she made a conscious effort to relax. He waited a moment, giving her time to adjust, before beginning to move again. 

"Oh, oh, oh, God," Sandra panted, as she was filled more than she'd ever been in her life. Now her crippling fears about his size had been put to rest, in her relief she began to enjoy herself. 

"Yes!" Simon groaned, feeling her writhe against him as her hips moved upwards to meet his. He arched back and leaned to the side, playfully trying to lick and suck on her toes as her feet danced past his face with each thrust. It was an unusually exuberant moment for him - he felt like a young boy trying to catch a scrumptious lollipop, bouncing just out of reach. Soon enough, he shut his eyes and shifted his full attention back to sex. 

Simon wanted to look down at her, milk the moment, to make her admit her feelings, but he didn't trust himself. He couldn't believe it was finally happening - after the most excruciating wait of his life, after thinking about her all these months, after wondering where the night would take them, he was at last properly fucking her, and she was loving it. Sandra's tight pussy was gushing juices like a river.

Simon had bedded enough women to recognise the distinct difference in his feelings, this wasn't just the thrill of the chase and the victory of success. Eyes closed in ecstasy, he temporarily released one of her legs and reached down between them to stroke her, then brought his hand up to his face to lick his fingers as he continued to pump in and out. The springs under the sofa-bed creaked as he increased his pace. 

As Sandra felt parts of her that she didn't think existed become deliciously awakened by his cock, she felt her body begin to rock toward a mind-shattering orgasm. Opening his eyes to look down at her, Simon recognised it too - the way she trembled beneath him, her head tipping back, mouth wide open, her hands desperately clutching his hips as he thrust into her. He arched, leaning back to get a better view of her face as he pounded her.

"Oh, oh, Simon, oh," she moaned. 

Simon, hearing her purr his name, watching her gorgeous face betray her impending release, bit his lower lip as his balls began to ache. All he needed was for her to open her eyes.

"Oh, oh, no, stop, stop!" Sandra begged, eyes closed, right on the edge. Despite her words, her hands desperately pulled his hips toward her as her legs flexed around him in rapture. Perfectly aware that she wasn't saying 'no' from pain, Simon's face broke into a huge grin, slightly twisted in his exertion and excitement. He watched her knowingly, feeling her slick walls tighten around his cock and begin to pulsate. 

"Now," Simon panted, his eyes fixed on her face. "Now, Sandra, come for me, now..." he temporarily squeezed his eyes shut and the mattress beneath them quivered as he fucked her to a climax.

"Oh, OH!" Sandra cried out, arching against him. Her eyes opened wide in astonishment and locked with Simon's dark gaze.

As Simon saw the expression of lust and despair on Sandra's face as she came on his cock, depraved moments of the night flashed through his mind, sending searing, electric heat through his whole body. Their first kiss, her cute mouth around his cock, her soft breast in his hand, sliding a finger into her tightness as she fought her restraints... 

"Fuck, oh, Sandra, FUCK!" Unable to hold back anymore, he curled his torso and his mouth urgently merged with hers as he continued to pump her, drawing out her orgasm. Then, as he felt her body slacken in a flood of pleasure, in one hard thrust he completely buried himself and came, keeping himself inside her, emptying out while she pulled her mouth back and gaped up at him in dismay. 

As Sandra began to cry, sensitive from the after-effects of intense sex, Simon straightened his torso over her, feeling his heart might explode. He brushed his lips across the top of her head, loving the feeling of being joined together. Eyes closed, he slowly pumped in and out of her tightness, feeling her tears spread across his chest, feeling incredibly used up from an amazing release after the painful ordeal of exercising such lengthy, disciplined restraint. 

"You promised, you bastard," she sobbed, trying to push him off her. "You promised you wouldn't."

Still catching his breath, Simon looked down at her in some surprise. "No, I never did. Maybe I led you to believe it," he admitted, "but nothing you said or did would have changed my mind, and I didn't want to upset you at the time by mentioning it." Simon's eyes glazed over dreamily as he pictured her pregnant, the curved swell of her stomach as his child grew inside her, nursing a beautiful new baby to her perfect breasts. 

Snapping back to the present he smirked down at her almost sympathetically, watching her eyes blaze at him through her tears, as her pink lips formed an adorable pout. "Even if I had promised, you know you can't trust anything a man tells you when he's preoccupied with sex."

"Get off me!" she cried, hating his humour. She strained against his large frame, pummelling his arms with her fists. 

"We had a deal," he told her firmly, pressing his hips into hers, literally pinning her down. "Look at me," he demanded, flexing his still-hard cock inside her, smiling as her sensitive pussy clenched around him in response.

As their eyes met he slowly released her, and as soon as he pulled out and backed off, Sandra quickly rolled onto her side and curled into a ball. Simon heard her make a small infuriated noise, like an angry kitten.

After all the fighting, all the fear, her unwilling body sensually teased and overtaken with sexual gratification, Sandra couldn't remember ever feeling so emotionally and physically drained. Opening her eyes she saw the orange clock glowing 3.45am.

"Can I get you something?" Simon asked, and the mattress shifted as he hovered over her.

'Your head on a stick,' she thought, but answered numbly, "water."

The bed lightened as he immediately went to do her bidding. Then she felt the bed dip as he climbed back onto it, edging close until he was spooning her. Gently he scooped an arm around her shoulders and half-lifted her, raising a glass to her lips. Without argument she drank it all, and he lowered her again onto her side. She felt him turn away from her as he put the glass down beside the bed, then felt his naked chest press comfortingly close to her back.

"Three weeks, Sandra," he kissed her temple and breathed in the scent of her hair. "You owe me three weeks."

Sandra could barely keep her eyes open. "Hmmm," she said vaguely. Her mind was swimming with confusion, the tiredness making her head ache as she tried to think. 

Only half-listening, Sandra felt his arm circle around her waist and pull her snugly against him as his deep voice gently drifted about her head, telling her he had never felt this way, that he wanted commitment, how happy they'd be together. Her brow slightly furrowed in sleepy bemusement as she heard him say he wouldn't share her with anyone, that he'll protect her, keep her safe from someone called Steven.

Even in semi-consciousness, Sandra knew she had a decision to make, and none of the available options seemed to present her with a positive outcome. Her ability for rational thought was severely affected by the mind-blowing orgasm she'd just experienced, her body was humming with pleasure and she felt ridiculously weak, like putty. She couldn't even sit up to drink water. Closer and closer to blacking out, her thoughts restlessly swirled around her head in a rapid current. Not spending more than a second on each notion, they flew across her mind like salmon swimming upstream.

The tigress in her wanted to teach him a lesson, hurt him, show him the price of his actions. If she went along with him and gained his trust, got her hands on a weapon, perhaps she could do damage that no amount of medical prowess could repair. But it was disheartening, how easily he'd recovered from a surprise attack at his most vulnerable moment. It would be an 'all or nothing' situation, she'd have to do it properly this time. It would be easier to poison him. Could she do it? Was she a murderer?

What if she endured the three weeks? Part of her scornfully mocked this line of thought, disgusted that she'd be naive enough to think for a second that he'd leave her alone when the time was up. An advocate for women's rights and equality, here she was contemplating submission to Simon after everything he'd forced upon her. What if she was pregnant? If she agreed to go out with him, she might have enough freedom to sneak off and buy the 'morning after' pill. Perhaps she could contrive to bore him in the meantime. Whatever hold he had on her, Simon couldn't watch her 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Sandra knew girls who hated their partners, in relationships devoid of sexual pleasure and intimacy, and they still stuck around, not necessarily leading miserable lives. Unable to deny she'd enjoy intense chemistry with Simon, already she would be doing better than some of her friends. After shaking her head at those girls pityingly, was this arrangement now ironically her fate?

Simon was overbearing, but he seemed to care about her, worship her even, and he didn't take satisfaction from physically hurting her. He did hit her, but only after she'd tried to kill him. In truth, she was lucky that he hadn't snapped her neck in a rage. Obviously Simon could be gentle, considerate, sexy and romantic. He'd also demonstrated tendencies to dominate, threaten, and cross boundaries.

Once she had slept and recovered some of her energy, she'd figure out what to do. With each option came too many pros and cons to consider. The survival instinct and adrenaline that had channeled through her veins over the last several hours was finally wearing off, and the overwhelming release from her built-up orgasm left her limp with sexual satisfaction, completely spent. Now she was being tenderly held by the man responsible for it, which was definitely not how she'd anticipated ending her night of horrors. For most of the evening, she was certain she'd end up broken and bleeding, if not dead. Her eyelids grew heavier as she began to doze off, her clashing thoughts butting against each other.

Resolving to face her problems in the new day, half-dead with exhaustion, Sandra drifted into a deep sleep with Simon curled around her, murmuring sweet nothings into her ear.