An Intruder
This time, he travels by night, enveloped by darkness.
The blackness about me mirrors the blackness within me. It bubbles, hot and thick, a pit of tar at the core of me. Waiting. Wanting. Seething. Tonight, I'll pull someone into that hungry, blistering blackness. Tonight I'll pull you into and under that blackness, where I'll consume you.
It's neither a space nor a boundary, neither shadow nor sun; it's neither darkness nor illumination, but an ever-present twilight that exists on the edges of light, on the edges of darkness, at the edges of everything that can be seen. Through this he walks, through this he'll pass to go...anywhere, to go...
Wherever I please.
I walk between the sodium glare of a streetlight and the ominous dim that is an alleyway. Then I'm with you. I watch you from the darkness. You're asleep in your bed. Oh, Lissy, how I've missed you.
Melisma is suddenly and fully awake. Something has disturbed her sleep. Instinctively, she holds her breath, listening. It's not a noise that woke her. (There's no noise.) Nor is it movement. (Nothing moves in the near-total darkness.) But something is suddenly different, suddenly wrong, and her primal, animal fear can sense it.
There's no evidence to the fact, but there is something here that shouldn't be. She knows it. Fear pitches higher, rising toward terror. Her heart hammers in her chest so hard it feels as if it makes her breasts shake. "Oh," she whispers, "Oh." She feels desperate, frantic panic. She holds her hand flat against her breasts, over her heart. "Oh," she says, again, quietly.
In the shadows, her eyes find a space of deeper, denser shadow. What is that? that shape I'm seeing? Is that...a person? It looks like a man. Is it? Is it a trick of the shadow? Or is someone watching me?
She begins to sit up, but can't – she is pushed prone as the shape springs from the shadow and leaps on her. She's held down by his weight, bound by his limbs, one hand on her throat, squeezing, growing tighter by degrees and a hand covering her mouth. Fingers press into her cheek. She feels the pressure of his thumb against her cheekbone. A lock of hair tickles her eyelashes and for just a moment, as she blinks, she sees a blue eye in a white ray of light that cuts across the darkness.
"You weren't going to call out now were you?" There is condescension, mockery in his voice. She can feel his breath on her face. The words from his mouth spread warmly over her skin, sweet and citrus, like a perfectly ripe peach. This alluring scent is horrible, so horrible. It twists her terror. She's never been more afraid and yet her body wants that taste on her tongue.
"I'd strongly advise against that. It might just escalate the...unpleasantness you're about to experience." But she does try to call out. Ah, willful girl. My willful little Lissy. . Is this cry an act of defiance? Or is she too scared to hear the warning he just gave? Perhaps she wants away from that thing within her that doesn't want to get away, the part inside her terror that wants to know the taste of his tongue on hers.
Oh no, she thinks. Oh no no no no no -
Her cry is muffled, though, not loud enough to be heard beyond the walls of her room. And it's quickly choked off when his hand squeezes her throat so tight she can barely breathe. She feels her face got hot and red and tight as he chokes her. Distorted darkness rings the edges of her vision. A small sound is all she can manage from her constricted throat.
"Oh, do you feel like humming? Is that what you're doing? Do you take requests? How about Strangers in the Night? Will you hum that song for me?" He laughs. The sound has neither kindness nor mirth in it, but contempt.
There is a gap in time. Whether she's lost consciousness briefly or whether there's been a gap or a jump in time she can't tell, but something disjointed happens. She can tell that time is missing, like a length of celluloid was sliced from the reel and discarded on the editing room floor.
There are no blankets on the bed, only the sheet over the mattress, at the head of the mattress, the pillow where her head should rest. She is lying perpendicular to the headboard, naked on the naked bed. Her knees are up and leaned slightly to one side, the soles of her feet flat against the mattress. Her arms stretch straight from the shoulder, her hands palm up toward the darkness that obscures the ceiling. The white sheet has warmed under her back. She can breathe freely now. No one is holding her down. How long have I been here this way? Was it just a dream?
He pulls her off the bed by her hair, forcing her to kneel in front of him. He jerks her head back by the handful of hair in his fist. "Look at me! And don't look away." His face is within a few inches of hers. He's whispering more than talking now. "Is this where I'm supposed to gush about how pretty your eyes?" He grits his teeth as he pulls her hair jerking her head again and bending her neck back painfully. "Ah!" she says.
"You know what I like about your eyes? The white. The white around the green. The more frightened you are, the wider your eyes get. The more frightened you get, the more white I see. The white shows your fear." His fingers caress her cheek. "I find your fear very exciting. Let me show you."
He relaxes his fist. His fingers are in her hair, holding the back of her head, touching the skin of her neck. His thumb and index finger hold her chin, forcing her mouth open. He pushes his hard cock between her lips, over her tongue, as deep into her throat as he can until her lips reach the base of his shaft. "No, no, don't look away, look at me." He hits her face with an open hand, harder than a pat, but not quite a slap, a warning against disobedience. It stings. "Didn't I tell you not to look away?"
He fucks her mouth while she looks up at him from her knees. He moves slowly at first, then a little faster, then faster still. Her lips slide up and down the length of his shaft. "Yes. Yes, that's good. That's a gooood girl, an obedient girl," he says, slapping her again, just a little harder. "Good girls do what they're told." He pauses when her lips reach the ridge of his glans, then he push himself back in, deep deep into her mouth.
"Such a good girl. Yes, such a good little slut, an obedient little slut. Do you like how I make your mouth a pussy?" Does he want an answer? How can I answer when I can't talk? Her eyes flutter shut, afraid he'll hit her again and hard. "No no no, don't close your eyes, look at me, look at me while I fuck your mouth. I want to watch your eyes while I fuck your face." He lays his hand on her cheek and caresses her cheekbone with his thumb. "So pretty," he says, "You look so pretty. You should see how pretty you look getting your mouth fucked. You should see how pretty you look with your mouth full of cock."
He pulls her by the hair until she is erect, but still kneeling. He runs his hand down her neck, the skin between her breasts. His fingers brush over her breasts, feather-light, raising goose bumps. He cups each breast then he runs his finger in gentle circles over her nipples as he rubs the head of his penis against her parted lips. He squeezes her nipple hard between his thumb and index finger. Her lips look flushed and full, pink and plump. He slips his cock between her lips once more.
He pushes himself deep into her throat, fucking her mouth fast and rough. His hands are on the back of her head, pulling her toward him with each upward thrust. Her eyes roll and flutter as she struggles to keep them open and looking into his as her throat constricts with gags from the head of his cock thrusting roughly against her. He doesn't seem to care if she's looking at him or not now. And now that it's possible she can shut her eyes to all that's happening, somehow she can't. Now she can't seem to look away. He shoves his cock into the back of her throat, trying to choke her. He slows down to watch the tears streaming down her face.
"Aw, what's the matter? Are you sad?" He grabs her hair, forcing her mouth to bob up and down on him. "Why would you cry, hm? Why are you crying? Don't I make you feel special? Don't I treat you special?" He pulls his cock out of her mouth and spits, spraying saliva onto her face, into her open mouth. "Well, you look special, with your running eyes and your wet face." He slaps her, this time for real, and hard. She cries out in surprise and pain. The wet skin makes the sting worse. He puts his dick in her mouth, and pulls her head against him until her lips press against his balls, his cock as deep in her throat as he can push it. He holds her there. Then he pinches her nostrils closed.
She begins to struggle, trying to pull away, to push him away, but she can't. He's just too strong. "Is it hard to breathe?" She gasps, trying to gulp air around his hard-on, but succeeds only in breathing in saliva. She coughs gasps and gags, struggling for breath. "I'm sorry, are you choking? Do you need me to help you?" He lets her go and she falls backward, sitting down hard on her ass, panting and coughing like she just broke through the surface of the water to gulp air after a long and desperate swim.
After a few breaths, he pulls her from the floor by her arms and shoves her toward the bed. She falls onto it. "I want you on all fours." She is weak and moves slower that he wants. "Now! You heard me - all fours! Lay your head down and turn away from me. I don't want to see your face. I'm sick of looking at you. You disgust me. Put your ass in the air." He kneels beside her and runs his fingers between her labia, over her clit. He pushes just his fingertip into her and laughs. "I knew your pussy would be wet."
He inserts a finger, then two, pushing them in and out of her. "I don't care if you like what I do to you. I don't care if you hate it. Your pleasure, your pain is irrelevant to me." He licks his finger and pushes it into her asshole. "You're a plaything to me, a toy. I'll do whatever I want to you." He puts his fingers in her pussy again, three this time. "I don't care what you like and what you don't. I don't care about your thoughts or your feelings. I don't care whether you cum or not. I don't care about anything but what feels good to me."
Kneeling behind her, he rubs the head of his cock against her pussy lips. "Nice and wet." Her pussy is warm around him as he starts to fuck her, her ass up, her face down, his hands gripping her waist. Her hair covers her face, her body moving forward with each thrust. "You may think you're special," he says, fucking her harder, "But you're wrong." Their bodies collide, rhythmically, the snap and slap of sweating skins hitting together again and again.
"Just because a bunch of idiots fawn all over you doesn't make you matter." Sweat drips from his nose onto the small of her back. "There's nothing special about having a bunch of guys want to fuck you." He pushes her face into the mattress, his cock pumping in and out of her, her ass pressed against his stomach. "I know you. You're not special. You're nothing."
He pulls her up by the hair like he's reigning in a galloping horse. She's on her hands and knees now. One hand hold holds by her hair, the other her shoulder as he fucks her. "You're nobody. You could be any woman at all to me. It could be any woman's pussy I'm fucking right now." He leans forward, biting her shoulder. "Does it make you feel good to hear that?" He whispers into her ear, "To know how worthless you are?" He leans back and gripping her by the hips again. "Not even your pussy is special. You'll be lucky if I don't crumple you up and toss you away like a used rag once I'm finished with you."
Time jumps again, jarringly. How long he's been fucking her, she can't tell. She is still on all fours. They're both wet with sweat. Her wrists ache. Her knees have burns from the sheets. His cock is inside her still as he fucks her hard and fast. "I'm going to fuck you till I cum." She knows by the sound of his breath he's close. "I'm going to cum all over your fucking face." His thrusts slow, slower, thrust...thrust...thrust......thruuust.
He pulls his cock from her pussy and rolls her onto her back. Then he's kneeling over her, straddling her, his thighs against her breasts, his cock, slick from her pussy, crimson in his fist. He rubs the head and shaft of his dick, his muscles tense as the cum wells. He blows his load.
A white arc of cum spurts from his cock and onto her face her face. Warm semen splatters her eyelids and runs on her cheeks. Lines of cum land on her lips, streak her chin. Between her parted lips it flows, into her mouth. She can taste it, warm on her tongue. There is cum in her hair, dripped from her face. The last warm drops fall from his cock onto her neck; the final drop of cum falls between her lips, into her mouth. His orgasm ends. It's over.
- - -Did she fall asleep? No one is here. There are no covers on her and she is cold. She opens her eyes. She's lying on her pillow, her covers over her now. Did she wipe her face? Did someone else? She might remember a warm, wet cloth. She looks around the room, at the dark corners, the shadows, to see if anyone (an intruder, perhaps) is there. But she's alone. And before another thought enters her mind, she drifts off to sleep.