Her expression fell back to neutral.
He stepped close again, and used his hands to cup and lift her breasts. The touch sent shivers of revulsion through her. His thumbs stroked her nipples, but they did not stiffen. She was scared of this man, what he might do, what he might make her do, she wanted to both cry and to hit him. Her body not obeying her mind was the most scaring thing about her situation.
Without a command to enjoy it, it him touching her nipples was the least erotic thing she could imagine. Instead, she envisioned her hands around his neck.
“I can make you like this,” he said softly.
She glared at him, but she knew it was true.
He pulled away his hands. “But first, take off those jeans and socks.”
She tried to fight it but her hands unfastened her jeans and slid them down her legs. She stepped out of them and discarded them, just as she had her shirt, then she pulled her socks off. Now clad only in white cotton panties, she resumed standing immobile. The sensation of helpless certainty of her situation, filled her with renewed rage and terror.
He slipped one finger under the waistband of her panties and slid it slowly across the skin below her navel. “One little piece of cloth is all that keeps you from being naked,” he said. He circled behind her, then stepped so close she could feel his erection through his trousers against her buttocks. He cupped her breasts from behind, his now-ragged breath in her ear. As he kneaded the soft flesh, he said, “You can speak now. Tell me how this feels.”
Like a switch had been thrown, she snarled, “bastard, get your fuck hands off me, don’t ever touch me again, I swear to God when this wears off, I’m going to kill you so fucking slowly you won’t—”
“Shut up,” he said, and she did. “Now…answer this question honestly. Which would humiliate you more: me removing your panties, or making you do it yourself?”
“Myself,” she said with no inflection.
She felt his breath on her neck when he chuckled. He took away his hands, stepped back in front and again raised his phone. “Smile, and take them off.”
It only took a moment. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband, bent over and slid the slight garment down her legs. It joined the pile of discarded clothing. Then she stood again, motionless, smiling with apparent happiness, and now totally naked. Inside she was screaming with the humiliation of her situation, stood completely naked.
The way he looked her up and down felt like the touch of some filthy rag, but her smile didn’t waver. “Turn around,” he said, and she did. When she again faced him, she realized that he hadn’t photographed her, he’d filmed her: to all appearances she’d willingly disrobed and posed for him, delighted to display herself. Another red flush of shame crept up her chest to her face.
He lowered the phone.
“So we are about to have several hours of pleasure, or at least I am and I am going to. He stepped close, his smooth silk shirt pressed against her bare breasts. He lifted her chin to look into her eyes. “I’m going to put you through your paces, and film every minute of it. You will appear not only willing, but eager. And,” he added with a smile, “you can think whatever you like, but any words you try to speak will come out as, ‘fuck me.’ Now tell me how you feel about that.”
“Who ever you are I hate you” she tried to say. But she only said flatly, “Fuck me.”
“Good. Now: on your knees.”
Obediently she knelt before him. She had a good idea what he was going to make her do, she had never done it before. She knew what was about to happen, what he intended to make her do. Her stomach roiled with revulsion.
“You can speak whenever you’d like,” he added as he undid his belt. She tried to beg him not to make her do it but “Fuck me,” was all she said.
Not surprisingly, he was already rock hard when he freed himself from his pants. “Don’t keep me waiting, Janice.” Open your mouth. In her head she was screaming no, no I don’t want to. His dick was massive far bigger than Wayne’s or Stephen’s Go on he said, she took his cock in her mouth.
He was hot and rigid, and tasted of salty dick sweat. She was terrified he would come this way, claiming her with his masculinity in the most disgusting way possible. But she couldn’t stop, nor could she deliberately do it badly. She obediently bobbed her head, one hand at the base of his shaft, the other braced against his thigh. She looked up, and saw his phone held over her, filming. It blocked her view of his face, but his little noises of pleasure were loud.
“Stop,” he said breathlessly, and she did. He stepped away, his cock red and hard, gleaming with her saliva. She sat back on her heels, breathing heavily, waiting. He sighed with satisfaction and asked, “Did you enjoy that?”
“Fuck me,” was all she could say. She felt so dirty at what she had just done.
He put his phone aside and removed his clothes. He was even bigger than she had thought tall very broad and extremely muscular. “What do you say” asked Ginger. ” fuck me” she said. He smiled at her “yes I will do as you ask and fuck you, how does it feel to be complicit in your own rape” he asked Janice. She wanted to cry and run away “fuck me” she said dully. Her eyes found her own discarded clothes on the floor. The small pile now represented the last of her dignity.
Now he was also naked, still rock-hard, and once again smiling. “On your feet,” he said, and of course she obeyed. She put all her hate and fury into her eyes as he stepped close. The end of his cock pressed against the soft flesh below her navel.
He raised her chin again. “Kiss me.”
Somehow, it was even more revolting than sucking his cock. That act was all about domination, and even though she hated it, it had no emotional intimacy for her. As she pressed her lips to his and slid her tongue into his mouth, though, the reality of her situation overwhelmed her. Worse, his kiss wasn’t rough or clumsy; he was, of all things, gentle. When he finally pulled away, she leaned forward to continue the kiss, having not been commanded to stop.
“That’s enough,” he said. His voice was low now, and almost seemed . . . regretful?
He took a deep breath, shaking off whatever momentary doubts had come over him. “Now, Janice: take me to your bedroom.”
She took his hand and led him upstairs to the bedroom.
“On your bed, and on your back,” he ordered, and she crawled onto the bed. She looked up at him as he closed the curtains against the morning sun, dimming the room. Then he stretched out beside her and put his mouth on her breasts. He sucked and licked them for what seemed at eternity, she tried to shut the horror out by imagining it was Wayne sucking them, but it did not work.
“Open your legs wide” Ginger instructed.
She fought with ever bit of willpower but it failed, she spread her legs wide. Ginger took more pictures of her right up between her legs. She could not stop him touching her slit. It was totally dry.
“You are now,” he breathed, “so aroused that even my slightest touch can make you almost come.”
The idea seemed so utterly ridiculous for about two seconds and then it horrified her, he was going to make her enjoy been raped, and then her body did exactly as he commanded. She was on fire for him, writhing and clutching at him, desperate to take his cock and guide it inside her. “Fuck me!” she cried, no longer thinking different words. “Fuck me!” She spread her legs wantonly, wriggling to get him into position. He slid inside her more easily than Stephen or Wayne ever had she needed Ginger to fuck her, her pussy was soaking wet