Marcy's Nightmare Pt. 02 of 04

Hear ye! Hear ye!(Author's note): This is part 2 of 4 of this story, if you've skipped straight here congratulations you've found where the sexing happens. CHECK THE TAGS if you've just stumbled here, upsetting Reluctance/Non-Consent things happen in the story.

Also you should maybe probably read part 1 first. Just, you know, if you want to. So you know what's going on and stuff. I've heard it's really interesting, just saying.

Also for no reason at all Chapter 8

Enjoy! ^-^

Chapter 6

The living quarters interior, I saw then, was cosy. A few metres across and not many more down, it was the kind of space that felt crowded regardless of how many people were actually in it. Two bunks on either side, with storage compartments above and below them. A walk in shower/sink cubicle to my right, and a toilet closet to my left. And apart from a tiny table that stuck out the opposite wall, that was it.

Oh.

There were some clothes stacked on one bunk. Made but not slept it. The other was dishevelled but other than that the whole place was mostly clean - for your average guy who lives alone at least - so that was nice.

At least I'll be in a clean bed when h-

The first thing he did, when the door shut behind us, sealing us with a hiss, was stretch. Well, he let go of my hand first, leaving me by the door. Then he stretched and sighed tiredly.

"You any good with your hands?" he asked me.

Based on his reaction, I think I must've made some kind of small, terrified sound. I couldn't hear anything at the time though, since I was then too busy listening to the sound of my own abject panic.

"The muscles," he prompted, glancing at me like I were dim. "The small of my back? They get knotted up with all the shit we have to carry around on boarding actions."

As he spoke, Kaspian had walked to the middle of the room, tore off his outer layers. Then he'd unzipped his jumpsuit down to the waist, and shrugged it off his shoulders. Soon enough I found myself staring as he took off his under shirt, and turned around to face away from me.

In hindsight, it made sense that they'd be in good shape. They flew around the vastness of the void and killed people. By boarding their ships which was still insane! I didn't really even consider the possibly that the man who'd... claimed me would be hot. I guess it wasn't relevant, due to the whole this or you die, thing. Sort of ruined the way his form caught the light. And to make it worse I now felt suddenly very uncomfortable making eye contact.

Don't get me wrong, everything about this whole situation was rancid. But that didn't stop me from noticing, and then trying very hard to un-notice. But then I was unfortunately faced with a problem.

He was too tall to reach.

I communicated the logistical difficulties by chopping the back of his shoulder with the side of my hand twice. Then he looked over and remembered that he was a head taller than me and chuckled. And I could hear him grinning. Ass, I thought.

"Ass," I mumbled.

He sat on the edge of the bed and I climbed in and scooted around behind on my knees. Then I placed my hands over his shoulders and set to work kneading with my thumbs and palms.

"Oh," he said, "you don't have to do my shoulders or anything. Just the small of my back."

"Right," I replied. "Sorry."

His shoulders were as firm as they looked and I really just-

I set to work on the small of his back instead.

"Ah," he sigh, "thanks that's helping."

I felt his tension slacken and he relaxed back towards me. I suddenly remembered where we were and who he was and that I was in his bed-

"Is that enough?" I asked, flinching away.

"Yeah, thanks Marcille." He got up, and circled his shoulder a couple of times, making the strings of muscle in his arm flex.

"How do you know my name?" I demanded, caught off-guard.

"Don't you know mine?" He shot back, working his jumpsuit down over his waist, and off his ankles.

And taking his underwear down with them.

"H-h-holy fuck." I stammered, dragging out the oh sound as I turned half away in shock.

"Relax, I'm grabbing a shower." He smirked even though though I wasn't looking at him I knew he was smirking I could hear-

"You can't just fucking strip without warning!" I blurted, feeling my face redden unbearably.

"It's been a long day," he went on, still belligerently nude, "I'm going to shower and you should too."

"I am not showering with you!" I yelled, every muscle in my body tensing at the horrifying thought of his body and mine in that tiny shower cubicle while we're wet-

"Then shower after me, I don't care."

"I don't want to shower at all!"

"Are you sure? You probably need one."

"Excuse me?!"

"What? You probably do."

"Did you seriously just tell me I need a shower? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Oh I'm sorry, I guess I figured you were having a stressful day! That you'd maybe wanna wash away the day in a nice warm shower. I didn't realise you were having such a Zen and relaxing time."

"Well excuse me, I'm sorry for stinking too much to rape you sick freak!"

I was staring up at him, having really sneered my hatred into the last word. I remembered he was naked then and turned sharply back before I could accidental look at his Shit his whole-

He chuckled again.

"If you want we could just fuck now," he offered, "while the tensions all high-"

"Fuck you."

"That was the suggestion yes."

"Die." I spat. "And yes you absolutely have to shower before you even think of touching-"

"Excuse me?" He mirrored my outrage infuriatingly.

"What?"

"So I have to fuck you while you stink of fear and but I still-"

"I do NOT stink of fear!"

"You reek of it-"

"Fuck you!"

"-and if you smell of fear I'm going to want to fuck you like you're terrified of me-

"I am! And that's a really messed up, creepy thing to say-"

"-but I promised not to hurt you if you behaved, and you kept your shit together so-"

"So what, I don't misbehave in public and you rape me gently is that it? Like a pet you can fuck?"

"Pets don't talk back," he pointed out conversationally.

"I'm not a pet!"

"No," he smiled at me again, "but I don't want a pet. I definitely prefer you the way you are."

I stared at him. I had been furiously glaring again but was suddenly once more struck with the horrible inability to make eye contact. Then I dropped my eyes without thinking and my eyes made contact with his cock and I yelped and physically jumped, covering my eyes.

"Here," he offered, "better?"

When I risked a peak through my fingers I saw he'd finally at least covered his waist by wrapping a towel around it. Even know I could still see the outline and did it just throb-

"Not even remotely." I glowered up at him.

"Then this should help."

Without warning he stepped close, and in one swift motion, grabbed me around the waist, put his other hand to my cheek, and kissed me. I squeaked and tried to pull back but he lifted me, spun me around and pressed me against the wall. I reacted without thinking, kissing back and then struggling and then realising it was pointless and kissing back again because gods the rough skin of his stubble felt good around the softness of his lips.

I was tense at first, but soon found my body relaxing into his grasp. He brought one of my legs up and ground his waist into me and I shivered and he hardened. We curled against one another, leaning into the kiss until we were both warmed and breathless.

I squeaked again, as he pulled back.

"See?" he panted against me, "I can be nice, as long as your a good Little Mouse-"

"IChangedMyMind!" I garbled, suddenly panicked, my words flying out of my mouth in a blur. "IWantUsBothToShower!"

I squirmed from his grasp, then marched across the room and pointed into the shower cubicle.

"Sperately." I declared, with the confidence of someone with no authority whatsoever. "DoorClosedPlease."

He gave me a wolfish look then that was not a grin, but nodded seemingly happy with this arrangement. Then he stepped into the shower, and shut the door.

I crumbled to floor straight after.

Chapter 7

Fuck fuck fuck I am so fucked!

Things were going well.

All I did was see him naked and make out once and now I'm wEt and he's gonna FiND oUt and I'm gonna wanna die-

It just seemed a little bleak is all.

Get. A grip. Marcy. Wait for him to shower and then you can shower and then hahahaDONOT think about that-

Maybe I was on the back foot a little.

And he was- it wasn't even hard but- I don't even know if it could fiT let alone-

Alright. So things were going poorly.

He comes out, the steam blinds him- Bam! I swing for him. He parries, I dodge, gradually wearing him down-

I was pretty sure I was either gonna die, or lose my mind.

Maybe I'm psychic? I could have mind powers! I mean how do we really know for sure until we-

Definitely the second.

Maybe I could just die. Just will my heart to stop beating or cook my brain like a MicRoWave-

Maybe both.

Oh. I grew suddenly calm, as the horrible, visceral acceptance hit, there's no way out of this, huh? No escape.

This is really happening.

And then the shower opened and he stepped out he was drying his hair. And covering nowhere else.

I panicked, ran straight into the shower fully clothed and closed the door.

The shower was still running.

So I yelped and swore and jumped back out half soaked and oh he was laughing-

~

I hate to admit that he was right about the shower. But it did help allot. Even if all it did was give me a brief few minutes to cry in peace and privacy. I went through the motions and washed the stink of fear off me - whatever the endless hells that means - and then stood for a full minute more under the water trying not to have a panic attack.

But, faced with the prospect of him waiting politely for twenty minutes and then finally giving up and opening the door to check on me, I decided against curling up into a ball and entering a catatonic state. He was pretty big, I reasoned, so he could probably pick me up and carry me pretty easily if he wanted to, even I were wet and slippery.

So I figured stepping out of the shower under my own power was at least marginally less undignified. And I didn't exactly have allot of dignity left to spare by then.

After I'd managed to stop visibly shaking, I turned the water off, and stepped out. There was a towel next to the door just for me, which is such a nice thing for the murderous unhinged pirate who was being really nice which I thought was strange for someone who was about to force-

"You look better," he said, leaning by the door next to me, watching me wrap the towel around myself like the creep that he was. "More relaxed, I mean."

"Don't stink of fear any more?" I jabbed, but there was no energy behind my words.

Nothing left to give, really.

"No," he answered, watching me with dark eyes, and darker intent. "But I can still see it on your face. I'm sorry that there's nothing I can do to fix that."

"Yes there is-" my voice cracked, as the tears returned. "Please don't do this, please!"

He stepped close quickly again, I shrank back on instinct but didn't struggle when his arms wrapped around me. And when he took hold of my chin, lifted my eyes to his and kissed me, I didn't pull away. And our mouths opened and our tongues met soon after, and I wasn't thinking any more for a few moments, while my body responded traitorously to his touch.

I was still trembling when our lips parted, and my eyes would stay wet throughout what was to come, but I was soothed. And I hated that such an awful monster was also capable of giving me the tenderness I so desperately needed in that moment.

That he'd chosen to do so as well. Like some sociopathic calculus he'd done in his head, planning out all the right things to say and do to make me feel safe, and comfortable and forget what was happening. But I wasn't going to let him.

He was still holding me to him after our kiss broke, nothing but a thin towel between my stomach, and the thick pulse of his heat as he throbbed against me. Eager. Hungry.

"We can pretend," he said softly then, "if it's easier for you, I mean. We can pretend this is something else."

I stared at him, suddenly repulsed. What, like I were giving myself willingly he means, my mind raged. Like I wanted this? And then he'd get to watch me enjoying it? Like he'd earned that right?

"Fuck you." I'd tried to make my voice spiteful, and venomous. But it just came out so small. Helpless. Hopeless.

"That is the plan," he agreed, with his unbearable wolf smile.

I felt myself smile, then shoved him aggressively for having the temerity to be funny and charming. Or tried to shove, anyway. I was pushing pretty hard but he just held onto my waist with no apparent effort. Then once the intent was clear enough, I gave up my aggression. It was the sentiment that mattered.

"You don't get to make me smile." Why does my voice sound like that? "I hate this!" So small, and high-pitched and pitiful? "I don't this- don't want you!" Like I'm weak, and broken already? "Get away from me!" Pathetic. Worthless. "Get AWAY-"

I was struggling then, squirming as the fathomless depths of panic finally overflowed. And I drowned in it. I writhed and wormed enough to get my nails in, dig them deep, and rake them across his arm.

He swore, tensed, but his grasp had loosened enough for me to slip out. I didn't know what I was doing, where I was going to go, but the fear finally had me. The last surge of desperate adrenaline before the end.

I felt his hand grasp my hair as I turned, jerking me back towards him with a cry of pain. He then took hold of my throat and slammed me against the wall, hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I gasped then as he squeezed - with only one hand - and I felt a tight, awful constricting sensation has he began to choke me.

It was only for a moment, a second or two maybe, but in that time I understood the cold terror of my own mortality. He could've crushed my windpipe. Without even braking a sweat.

And as I grew suddenly still. The instinctual relaxing as I submitted completely. I saw in his eyes that he would do it. I don't think he wanted to, not then at least. But he wouldn't stop at hurting me if I struggled.

He would kill me, if he had to.

"You were doing so well," he observed, "being so good, Little Mouse."

"S-sryy!" I choked out.

His grip loosened a little. I used this breath of air well, by letting out a whimper.

"Are you gonna stay calm now?"

"Mhm," I nodded, lip trembling.

He let go of my throat. Slow, and careful. And I coughed and massaged the tender flesh.

"That's my good Little Mouse," he purred, reaching up with his hands and gently wiping the tears from my cheeks, "Now, come to bed."

Chapter 8

"Eeek!" I squeaked, as he suddenly hooked his arm behind my knees, and scooped me up.

I hated that he kept making me squeak. It was bad enough everyone kept calling me the mousy librarian.

"Here we go," he said happily, as he tossed me lightly onto the bed.

I yelped that time. Definitely not another squeak. Nope.

The towel came loose and I scrambled to cover myself but Kaspian just firmly took hold of one corner, pulled it taught, and stared at me. I hesitated. Remembered the feeling of his hand round my throat. I reluctantly released my hold on the towel, and he pulled it slowly away from me, until it covered nothing.

And I lay there, trembling and naked in his bed, shutting my eyes tight and willing myself away from everything.

"Don't do that," he told me, making me risk a glance, "don't hide away. I want you here."

I whimpered and rolled away from him.

He chuckled, and I could hear his stupid insane handsome wolfish grin while he did it.

The foam mattress jostled as he climbed into bed next to me. I began to shake as all my muscles tensed. Then flinched when I felt him touch my shoulder.

"This way," he instructed, as, with the sudden patience of a caring parent, he made me roll over in bed to face him. "That's it," he cooed, "that wasn't so bad, was it Little Mouse?"

I didn't look at him, couldn't bare to. I was too afraid to cry, even.

"Look at me."

He took hold of my chin, tilted my head. I obeyed. Looked at him.

In all the smoke and chaos of my rapidly fraying sanity, I saw the reflective eyes of a wolf staring down at me. Predatory. Hungry. I was his meal. His mate. His fuck. To be taken, and used whether I enjoyed it or not.

And I suddenly had a new choice then. To endure.

Or to enjoy.

Both were impossible. Because to endure was to hold on to myself. To wall myself away, like a nesting doll beneath a callous of trauma and hope. To be the one sane person on a ship filled with madness. To go through the indignity of violation and abuse until I can bear it no longer. And either go mad or die, by my own hand or theirs.

Even if rescued, I knew, I wouldn't be the same. I could already tell, the tendrils of their world creeping in to my mind through horror and proximity.

So. That left to enjoy. To let that part of me, that ache within. The pleasure that would be, regardless of whether I want it or not. The flutter in my heart I felt when he'd first stepped into my sights. Those dark eyes, that wide, ravenous smile.

To give myself, not to him, but to It. The primal urge to be hunted and taken and bred. To become the prey he sought. And that's what I had volunteered for, though maybe I'd no clue at the time. That's what he'd decided for me, as I begged him to spare my life. To let me live, and in exchange I be his prey.

And, as I finally understood my new role, I was surprised to find I didn't regret the choice I made. To live.

Whatever it takes.

~

My mess of curls obscured my view as he rolled me to face him. Then, as I lay there, trembling and tense, he brushed the hair from my eyes.

We lay on our sides in the single bed, facing one another. He held my eyes for a moment, making sure I was there, present. He didn't just want a warm hole, he wanted a person. He wanted to know the one he took, and for me to know him. And it was horrible and wonderful and devastating all at the same time.

Then his gaze fell, and I felt suddenly shy and humiliated so I shrivelled up as I tried to roll away once again.

"It's alright," he soothed, stopping me lightly. "I like what I see, Little Mouse."

I'd stopped resisting entirely by then, and he'd needed no effort or threat of force. He just guided me back to face him, firm but patient. And I let him.

I felt his eyes study me, the pale skin underneath, all my curves, the soft skin of my breasts, the goosebumps on my nipples. I studied him too, then. The way his collarbone caught the dim sleep lighting. The tension in his muscles, like a coiled spring, vibrating with potential, ready to unleash at any moment, and snap into me. The fire in his hungry eyes, that burned an inferno of want into his skull, all of it just for me.

And the fire at his waist, already burning like the hells infernal, the smokestack of his virile lust already reaching high. Pressing against my stomach. It was definitely bigger hard. I wasn't petite or anything, just average height, average build, read too much, didn't work out enough etc. But it occurred to me as I stared down at his gently pulsing excitement, that we may be about to crash against the laws of physics.

"Oh," I breathed, in a low voice. "I don't know if that... You might be too... Um..."

"Don't worry Little Mouse," he smirked at me, "I won't do anything to hurt you."

He paused, then added, "At least not today."

I squeaked again as he took me suddenly and pulled me against him. Our bodies pressed together, his arms around me, hugging me to him, my hands against his chest, curled into him. I felt the thickness of his strong arms, the solid immovability of his his form, the hairs on his chest as they tickled my soft skin, sending an embarrassing shiver through me.

And the warm, steady thrum of his naked desire pulsing against my belly. The tip leaking his shameless arousal into my skin, already painting me with his seed. Anointing me as his chosen, his mate, his prey.

Slowly, I stopped shaking, the solidity of him steadying me somehow. Like the echoing panic that reverberated within my core were dissipating into him. And with that, this act of his tenderness, I finally broke.

I carefully worked my fingers up his chest, and felt him slacken his grip upon me, allowing me to lean back and look up into his eyes. Those horrible, wonderful, hungry eyes. And then I reached up, took my face in his hands, pulled him down to me and our lips met.

He tasted of want, and aggression this time, pressing his face to mine, forcing me to give back with equal eagerness or be gradually pushed off of the bed. He pressed his tongue into my lips and I opened wide and accepted it as I leaned into him. Then I pressed my tongue into his mouth and I felt his cheeks pull into a smile.

And he throbbed against me and I pulled him over as his pushed himself off of the bed, and he nudged my knees apart with one of his muscular legs. I followed this, then allowed myself to be spread wide and accepting beneath, as I felt his weight come to a rest on top of me.

He held himself up on his arms effortlessly, as I finally slumped back against the bed and broke our attempt to devour each other, catching my breath.

Strangely, I found then, I'd finally stopped feeling the constant urge to breakdown and cry. Like there was no point in getting upset about something, now that it was already happening.

"I knew I was right about you," he half-panted down at me.

"About what?" I asked, feeling oddly distant as I traced my fingers along the lines of his chest and stomach. Free, almost.

"That underneath the mousy glasses and constant worry," he purred, "My perfect little mouse was there, desperate and hungry and just waiting to be taken."

I didn't get a chance to refute this frankly slanderous assertion, because he chose that moment the grind his hips, pressing his warmth over the slick folds between my thighs. And I moaned in a long, low whimper of want.

And then I couldn't talk, because his lips were on my cheek and I went to kiss him. He'd continued down though, below my ear, down my neck. I felt myself tensing again as his wandering lips continued brushing my shoulder. Making me tremble in anticipation, rather than fear.

The warmth of his breath brushed the skin of my nipple, sending a jolt of sensation that travelled pleasantly all the way to my very soul. Then, as his lips pressed down, and lapped his tongue against me, I knew I was lost.

Chapter 9

It's hard to pin down the exact moment sanity left me. The mind is a funny thing: you don't notice it when it's there, and once you've lost it you can't remember what it looked like. I can see who I was before, but I know that's not me, not any more.

That person I was, would've never gasped up, pressing into him as he suckled and teased my nipple. And then the hand, his rough skin. Tracing down over my belly, sensation building as he grazes over every point of wonderful agony. I shudder at the aching desperation as his fingers discover the slickness of my thighs.

He drew it out, knowing I expected to feel it any moment. Teasing me. Threatening. Promising.

Then, when my moans had reached a purring mumble that bordered on begging, his fingers slid into me.

"D... Don't," I entreated, soft and quiet. "Please-"

I would've probably squeaked again then if I hadn't grabbed his head, tongue still teasing at my chest, and muffled the increasingly humiliating noises I was making against his hair. Then any thought at all grew difficult, for my mind was soon overwhelmed with the blissful oblivion of warm fingers curling into me.

Feeling me, learning were to push gentle, where to press hard. A writhing exploration, both his intrusive search, and my impending ecstatic rebirth. I knew he wouldn't stop, as I reached down and tried to push his hand away, but it's necessary.

"No..." I begged as his head began to move down further.

"You need to relax Little Mouse," he whispered between gentle kisses down my body, "I'll make you feel good first."

I glanced down, the surreal sensation as this predatory shadow drifted down the bed, until I felt his breath between my legs, and my eyes rolled back. I'm not sure what noise I made then. It all started to get a little hazy as I felt his lips teasing against mine, the tickle of his stubble against my dripping tenderness.

The sounds he made then were wet, as he went to work, sending shivers of bliss that threatened to arch my back and buck my hips. My sounds were unintelligible gasps, interspersed with the occasional No or Please.

My body readily betrayed me though. Soon enough, I was in motion against him, his hands locked around my thighs. My hungering warmth pulsing against his pitiless attentions.

I rode the waves of his stimulation higher and higher, until finally, with a horrible shudder, I came. I was silent, the yawning abyss claiming everything from me, and leaving me floating above reality in a totality of uncomprehending bliss.

Stages of collapse came after. First, all the muscles that had tensed and fluttered under his relentless touch finally relaxed. And with that, I sank away from him, slumping down. Utterly spent.

Kaspian released his lips and carefully placed my limp, obliterated form down, to rest in a warm puddle of my arousal. Then he moved up the bed again, facing me, and made me taste myself. I felt his mouth upon mine and kissed him back, lapping at the heavy scent of my desire.

Once I'd tasted to his satisfaction, he broke away, and stared down at me with gleaming eyes.

"Enough waiting," he growled, tense and breathless, "You're mine now."

And he pulled me under him, and pushed my legs apart once more.

~

I said nothing as he claimed me with his words. Growled them at me. The sudden aggression cowing me into submissive silence. I held my tongue when he dragged me under him, and only whimpered a little as he pushed my legs apart.

Kaspian had threatened to kill me. He'd humiliated me, and taken me as his personal fuck pet. He'd violated me without consent. And worst of all, he'd just made me cum so hard I'd seen stars. Arguably, the damage was already done.

Yes as I felt the tip of his length rest against my stomach. Saw him hunched over me. His weight pinning me to the bed, his arms closing me in. Nowhere to run. I still had once last desperate moment of hopeless panic, as I felt his tip trace a line of potent arousal, and he guided himself down to between my folds.

I grabbed his arms with both my hands, dug my nails in. Everything inside me went tense as I felt him teasing against my entrance.

"No!" I cried, my voice a broken echo. As the rest of me soon would be too.

"Relax Little Mouse," he instructed, patient but so hungry.

"Nono please don't do thisNO-"

"I promised not to hurt you," he murmured near my ear, "but only if you were good."

He pressed himself against my clenched entrance. Not enough to risk forcing himself inside, but enough to make me jolt at the threat of it.

I whimpered, wracked out a single sob, then - nails still dug into his arms because I needed to hold something and he was right there - I allowed my body to relax.

He sank his length into me.

I let out a single, hopeless cry as I fluttered and clenched instinctively, my body stretching to take him. He held me there, our forms coupled, waiting for me.

"Just say when Little Mouse," he whispered, as he tenderly stroked my cheek.

I turned my glassy eyes to meet his, looking up at him through my lashes. His body over mine, his arms either side of me. One wrapped around and under my waist, the other supporting his weight. Strong. Solid. Rough.

I loosened my nails from his arms, and wrapped them as far around him as I could. And once I had hold of him, I started to move. Test the sensation as he moved in and out of me. Getting my body used to his length, Gods his length.

I figured I was as ready as I'd ever be when my folds let out a slight spasm around him and my mouth let out a low moan.

"Okay," I whispered by his ear, my voice small, and gentle as I hoped he'd be to me. "I think I'm ready."

He sat back to his haunches, a sculpted hero of ancient myth towering over me. A statue, of hunger and dominance.

"Ready for what?" he asked then, smirk on his lips.

"You know..." I whined.

"No I don't know, Little Mouse," he teased against me, I squeaked, "you'll have to tell me."

"Don't make me say it."

"Ready for what?."

I sniffled.

"Mouse...?"

"I'm-" I stammered haltingly, barely able to force the words out, "-r-ready f... to f-feel you inside of me."

"Very good Little Mouse," he pivoted left and right, slowly, torturing me with my own want, "that was close, but I'm gonna need just a little bit more."

"... mean wolf smile..." I mumbled, not nearly as quiet as I'd intended.

I jumped a little as I felt him chuckle.

"Mean wolf," he smirked, "I like that, that's very funny."

"You're the one who started it with your weird mouse shuuugh..." It started it as a barb, as though I were suddenly remembering I was someone who defended herself when she was mocked. But I lost the ability to speak when he slid himself first out, and then back into me in one.

Long.

Deep.

Stroke.

Until, finally, I was completely filled. And I was unable to do anything other than focus on the terrible sensation of accepting him into me.

Chapter 10

It took a moment for me to stop tensing against the feel of him. My eyes watered continuously from then on, the extent of my body pressed aside to accommodate such length, such girth, already too much.

"Too big!" I whimpered urgently, as I felt the sharp straining of my tortured folds. "Too much I can't!"

"You need to relax," he still held a hand to my cheek, and wiped a tear away with his thumb, "if you don't relax, Little Mouse, you'll never be able to take the rest of me."

My eyes snapped to him.

"Rest... of...?"

My heart caught in my throat. I was so full already, but I realised then I couldn't even feel his pelvis against mine. Before I could glance down to see the full extent of my immediate future, he used the hand under my wait to life me from the bed, and angle my waist to better suit his purpose. Then, using his body to press my legs further back, and spread me open more, and pressed even further in.

I gasped, low and long. It was like every facet of my perception was then dedicated to the sensation of fullness as his warmth stretched my walls apart. Pressing deeper into me than I even thought possible. Like the monstrous insanity that held him - held all of them - was infecting reality itself and the laws of the universe. Warping the space around our room, our bed. Making my body capable of doing thing it shouldn't be capable of doing.

I felt a pain then, deep and uncomfortable. The feeling of him too deep. Only then, did I feel his body press to mine, and finally knew I'd taken all he had to give,

I squealed at the sharp.

"Hurts!" I breathed, gripping whatever I could get a hold of for support.

He chuckled, and I felt it through the union of our forms.

"I know Little Mouse," he purred, leaning down until his face was close enough to mine for me to smell the spearmint on his breath, "I'm being as careful as I can, but you're gonna need to be a little brave for me okay? Just until you get used to taking all of me."

I let out another whimper, half fear, and half desperate anticipation.

"Okay," I whispered, already feeling my traitorous body beginning to squirm around him. "I'll... I'll be brave."

"So close, Little Mouse," his hungry eyes tore into me, ripping and tearing and taking everything, "I'm gonna need you to say just a little more though."

I stared up at him wide eyed, trying to comprehend his desires. All trace of resistance gone, lost to the intensity of his attentions. I was eager to please him, eager to earn the praise and the reward of his body inside of mine. So I said what he wanted to hear.

And what I wanted to hear myself say.

"I'll be brave for you, Sir." I spoke low, and inviting. "Please be gentle." Then, for reasons far beyond what I was will to confront at that time, I couldn't help but add, "just at first."

The way those dark eyes lit up at my words made my mind buzz and hum in all of the ways. The want, the need, for him to use and devour and fuck me until I couldn't stand it any more. No one had ever looked at me like that before, and now I had a taste I wasn't sure I could live without those horrible eyes staring down at me every.

Single.

Night.

My eyes rolled back as he withdrew, leaving a yawning absence of warmth within me that was almost as blissful as taking his full length. Then, he pressed forward once more in another long, torturous thrust that sent a jolt up my spine as he drove himself back home.

I still felt myself tense slightly as he began fucking me slow and steady, my body learning his, shaping itself to please this newest source of bliss. To remember the weight of him on top of me, and prepare for the next night I was to serve my new master for his pleasure. To take him easier next time, and writhe and flutter and squeeze him so good. To allow myself to mould to his will. To allow myself be claimed.

After not too long, I felt it building again. The unrepentant ecstasy that he'd already subjected me to with his lips upon my soft flesh. It was different this time though. Deeper. More harrowing in intensity. Like the feel of his ragged pants into the crook of neck made it something more. No longer just him giving, this was sharing.

And I felt an awful pang of disgust with myself for allowing it. Permitting the growing heat in my body, the tactile response of our forms pressing together. Gasping. Moaning. Shuddering in unison.

We were one then, I realised. My will and body, submitted both to whims of the strong, dominant presence that pressed into me over and over. And soon, as all coherent thought finally started to trickle away, my legs began to tremble.

"Enjoying yourself... Little Mouse?" He goaded, breathless with his own pleasure then too.

"No..." My voice came out soft, and whiny.

It was obviously a lie, but even then it felt wrong to call this anything other than what it was. He was raping me, and Gods help me I was enjoying it. But that didn't mean I wanted it.

His response, was to kiss me hard. Greedy. His tongue quickly forcing its way into my mouth, searching for my own. All the while, thrusting into me harder, slapping his pelvis against my body with enough force to stimulate my clitoris.

It was these two in conjunction that pushed me over the edge. I tore away from his lips and cried out, my back arching, hips actually bucking onto him. A few garbled word fragments trickled from my throat as I came even harder than before, my walls tensing and squeezing and begging to receive what it craved most. What I craved most, then.

And, as he felt my climax ripple through me underneath him, I got what I wanted. I was still riding the tail end of my orgasm, and he fucked me right through it.

"I'm going to breed you now Little Mouse!" he gasped, "Take it inside!"

"No!" I managed just barely to force out. "Don't..."

But my words were more of a formality than any real kind of entreaty. Because when I wrapped my arms and legs around him, and pulled him tight against me, I wanted nothing more than to feel every second of what I was about to.

He pressed deep again, as he came. So deep I felt that strange ache within me, that sharp sensation. Then, a pulsing, throbbing warmth filled me. A burning of lust and ownership swelling in my core and overflowing down and out of me.

I didn't cum again, as his hot, thick ropes filled me. But that's just because I hadn't finished from moments before. It was more of a long, drawn out, double length orgasm. By the end of it, as he gently thrust himself in small pumps, making sure I took every drop of his delicious, hot, musky scent, my muscles were cramping.

I collapsed under him, flopping down limp as he stayed atop me, still buried inside. He breathed hard against my neck, the afterglow sending shivers down my body at the occasional aftershock.

I felt him kiss my neck then, and I actually let out a purr of delight as I felt his mouth close and start to form a seal upon my skin. He sucked then, causing me a little gasp of sharp pain as he deliberately bruised my neck.

But I relaxed and let him, once I realised what he was doing.

I was being marked. So that all who saw me knew, I was claimed now.

That I was his.

I didn't stay awake long after. I was exhausted, in every sense. To tired to be horrified, or disgusted, or ecstatic. To weak to do much other than curl away from him as he withdrew his body carefully from mine, and kissed me lightly on the cheek.

"That's your reward," he'd whispered then, "for being my good Little Mouse."

And I'd started crying quietly. And he'd wrapped an arm over me, spooning me to him. And I wrapped my arm over his, and pulled myself back against him, because he was strong and solid and he was there. And I needed something then. Even if it was him.

Then I was unconscious. Blessedly dreamless. Until morning came.