Abigail

In my fantasies the monster always catches me from behind. He’s strong. Strong enough to pick me up as my legs flail.

And this monster is.

This monster is huge, his arm so tight around my waist that I struggle to breathe. He’s the solid wall of muscle against my back. He’s the firm hand over my open mouth.

He’s heat, and breath, and terror.

He’s my most beautiful nightmare.

And he’s real.

Tonight, he’s real.

His arms are thick and tense, hoisting me from my feet as though I weigh nothing at all.

My fingers dig into his forearms and find them unyielding. My legs grapple for grip but find nothing.

I have no breath to scream, nor strength to fight him. I thought the struggle would come naturally, but it doesn’t.

I’m paralysed.

I wonder if he can feel my drumming heart as he carries me further into the darkness. I wonder if he feels how my wired nerves spiral away with me.

I’m rigid in his grip, but I don’t struggle – my eyes wide in the pitch black, straining to find bearings where I have none. His boots crunch on gravel underfoot. We’re in the shadow of brickwork, one of those looming buildings hides us from the deserted street.

Alone.

There is numbing liberation in the way I know no one is coming for me. I feel myself falling into myself, all of my pieces contracting to protect my broken soul.

But I don’t want protecting.

I don’t need to be protected from this.

It’s everything I ever wanted and more than I ever feared, all at once.

The monster speaks.

“Don’t make a fucking sound. I’ll hurt you if you do.”

His voice is low. Deep and dark and threatening.

And I’m every bit as fucked up as I ever feared. Underneath the terror and the dread and my racing heart, I realise my clit is fluttering.

My pussy clenches, and it aches. It fucking aches for him.

My nipples are stiff against the lace of my bra. My hands are clammy and desperate as they grip at his skin.

“Understand?” he whispers.

I nod and the hand across my mouth moves with me.

I whimper into his palm as he slams my body into a doorway. Shutters rattle loud enough to make me squeak.

He drops me to my feet and pins me against the door with a heavy arm against my back, forces me against it so hard it hurts my tits, my face squashing against cold metal.

“Quiet,” he tells me and I nod again, barely able to breathe he’s holding me so tight.

I flatten my palms against the door and push back hard in the quest for even an inch of space, but he doesn’t budge.

He hitches and grinds, and I feel him.

Oh fuck, I feel him.

Bigger than the monster toy I used at home. Bigger than I ever feared. Hoped.

I whimper under my breath as he finds my wrists and raises them over my head. They’re so small in his hands. Breakable.

I’m so small. Breakable.

He pins both of my arms in position with just one of his, and the other snakes around my front and tugs my slutty bra down with my dress. My tits flatten against cold metal. My nipples are tight and tender, sparking against the chill.

He kicks my legs spread with his boots, and I sink lower, teetering precariously from his solid grip on my wrists.

Cool air hits my clammy thighs. I roll my tits against the metal door and I like it. I’m more petrified than I’ve ever been in my whole entire life, but I hear myself moan.

Thick fingers slide between skin and shutters. Thick fingers grab at my tit and squeeze until I whimper.

And I can’t help myself. I tip my head back against the ridge of his collarbone and let myself ride the craziness.

“You fucking asked for this,” he whispers, and I smile a crazy smile in the darkness.

Yes.

I asked for this.

I fucking begged for this.

Dreamed of this my whole life.

He pinches my nipple so hard it takes my breath, then tugs me back from the shutters enough to trail his fingers over my goose-pimpled skin.

I arch my back and hope he gives me more. My body begs for more.

And then I lie.

It comes so easily.

“No… please don’t…”

He grips and twists, mashing my tit flat against my ribs.

“No…” I breathe again. “Please stop…”

His breaths quicken with mine. He presses tighter against my ass.

He likes it.

He wants it like this.

Part of me comes undone – a stray part that feels alien to the rest of me.

It’s that part that whimpers as he tugs my dress up around my waist. It’s that part that’s begging him to let me go as he slides a rough hand between my legs.

I’m offering my pussy to his fingers even as the protests are tumbling from my mouth.

“No… don’t…”

I’m delirious and fucked up. Euphoric and horrified all at the same time.

My pussy aches so good at his touch, my clit a desperate little bitch.

His thumb hooks inside my thong and presses right on target.

“Please no…” I hiss. “Please stop… stop…”

He yanks the scrap of fabric so hard it tears from my hips. When his fingers force their way inside me there’s three of them at once with no warning.

He’s rough. Fast.

Brutal.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight,” he grunts.

I cry out as he forces his fingers in deeper. My eyes water as he makes me take it.

“I haven’t even fucking started yet,” he tells me, and I know it.

His thumb rolls against my clit. I hear the wetness and I feel so vulnerable I want to die in his arms.

Maybe I will.

He lets go of my wrists and flattens me tighter against the shutters. His fingers slide around my throat and squeeze hard enough to make me rasp.

His mouth is on my neck. His breath is all I can hear.

I don’t know what to do with the freedom he’s just granted my wrists. My arms hang lifeless at my sides until I feel daring enough to touch him. To feel him.

I’ll never know the stranger in the darkness, but my fingers will.

So slowly I reach up behind me, my fingers trail up the back of his neck. Solid.

He’s fucking massive.

My fingertips graze soft hair, shaved sides, then tangle in longer lengths on top. I’d give anything to see him.

I’m grunting as his fingers piston deep, begging him to stop with every breath. I shuffle my legs just a little bit wider, praying he keeps rubbing my clit the way he is right now. Just like that.

But he doesn’t.

I groan as he pulls his fingers away.

He takes hold of my hair and yanks me from the shutters along with him. My heels scrabble against the gravel as I stumble after him.

He pulls me further from the road. We turn a corner at the rear of the building, and I see a row of huge trucks as a security light blinks on in the distance.

I could scream. Part of me wants to.

But I don’t.

He shunts me in front of him as we dip between two trucks. I twist to face him, but I’ve missed my chance to see. It’s dark again. My adrenaline is spiking all over.

And then he pushes me to the ground. I cry out as my knees hit the concrete. I feel them graze as he shoves me forward on all fours. The ground is rough against my palms, but rougher against my face when he forces me flat.

Oh God. Oh my fucking God.

He positions himself behind me, lifts my dress and slides his fingers all the way back in. I know what’s coming when I hear his belt buckle. I panic when I hear the zip of his jeans.

I struggle but go nowhere. My pleads feel thick in my throat as hot fear takes over me.

I feel pitiful.

Sad.

Beautiful.

Happy.

Joyous.

Out of fucking control.

I’m surprised when the tears prick at my eyes. I’m embarrassed how I spread my legs even as the first sobs come.

I flinch as I feel the head of him. He’s too big. Too hard.

“Please…”

And I’m crying as his cock rubs back and forth between my pussy lips. I feel the ridges of metal and know he’s going to fuck me up.

“Please…”

I let out a strange feral sob as he pushes the tip inside.

“This is gonna fucking hurt,” he says.

* * *

Phoenix

It takes some serious fucking resolve not to slam my cock balls deep into Abigail’s beautifully tight cunt in one thrust, damned be the consequences for me as well as her.

Luckily, resolve is something I’ve long cultivated.

Still, I really do feel like a monster as I deliver the nightmare she begged me for.

She’s a mess on all fours before me, her breath raspy with tears as her whole body trembles. Her adrenaline is off the charts and has been for a while.

But she stays still like a good girl. Like she was born for this.

Maybe she was. Maybe she was right all along and she really does need this. Maybe she always will.

Like Mariana.

Abigail is nothing like Mariana. Mariana was fiery and sensational and easy to read. Mariana liked to hiss and spit and go down hard.

Abigail is a delicate blend of pure fucking crazy. Elegant and dirty and needy and vulnerable.

Insane.

Fucking insane.

And I feel insane right along with her. This lunacy has been a long time coming.

Maybe too long.

Her legs stay nice and wide for me, even though they’re shaking. Her back is arched, her soaking wet pussy offered readily for the brutality she’s convinced is coming her way.

I admire the way she thinks I’m going to tear her apart and she still doesn’t try to run.

I admire the way she’s really all in with this, even though she must be fucking petrified.

“Please…” she whimpers.

I shunt my hips enough to sink the tip, and even though she’s sopping fucking wet, it still takes some force.

She breaks enough to sob a little. It’s pitifully beautiful enough that my balls tighten.

“This is gonna fucking hurt,” I tell her and she cries out as she braces herself for the impact.

It doesn’t come.

I wrap her hair around my fist in a heartbeat, the thick end of my cock still snug in her perfect cunt as I tip her head back.

She’s close enough to kiss. But I don’t.

Even though I want to, I don’t.

She’s close enough that I could tell her she’s gonna be just fine if I wanted to. But I don’t offer any assurances.

My breath is a whisper in her ear. “Don’t fucking fight it.”

Her cheek is wet with tears. She nods again and takes a ragged breath.

She holds it in and grits her teeth as I inch my way inside her. It’s slow. Tortured. Tight enough to burn. And she hisses as I crush her with my full weight, my legs pushing hers wide and holding them. I pull her hair into a high pony and brush my lips across the back of her neck.

Her moan is divine.

It’s even better when I bite her.

My teeth nip and hold, my grunts low in my throat as my cock gains ground.

In and out, claiming her slowly, firmly, as she hisses out a breath with each thrust.

I’m steady with each barbell, careful as I edge them inside her, but there’s a desperation in the way I move. I can’t stop. Can’t hold back.

She tenses and groans underneath me as her poor pussy takes it all, but this isn’t the assault she feared and we both know it.

There’s no way I can bottom out in her, not in one go, and that’s a damn fucking shame. A real damn fucking shame.

I just can’t.

I take what I can, pushing for just a little bit more with every thrust, well aware this beautiful nightmare is speeding fast towards its closing act.

Its only ever act.

“I want that cunt,” I whisper. “Give it to me.”

I change angle just enough that the metal inside hits the right spot, and she can’t fight it any more than I can.

She squirms and moans.

Wriggles and whimpers.

Bucks as much as she fucking dares.

Her legs part wider of their own accord, and I know I’m going to give her the most painful fucking orgasm she’s ever had.

“That’s it,” I grunt. “Good girl.”

Her breaths are pained but needy.

She wants more and I know it. I feel it.

I fuck her as deep as I can without tearing her. She takes everything she’s given.

Her hair smells like coconut.

Her neck smells like a beauty counter.

She tastes like I never want this to be over.

“Please…” she whimpers. “More…”

And I smile against her skin. I smile at the crazy.

I smile at how two random strangers can be a million degrees of fucked up and still feel so right.

“Come for me,” I hiss. “Come for your monster.”

And she does.

I let go of her hair, grab her tits hard and fuck her like the nightmare she wanted me to be.

With my beast of a dick stretching her pussy to gaping and metal bars grating her deep, she comes for me as she cries out.

It’s wild. It’s hard.

And it’s fucking everything as she jerks and whimpers.

It takes my all not to flip her over and fuck her eye to eye.

It takes every scrap of restraint not to plant my mouth on hers and kiss her like I mean it.

And I’d mean it.

I realise that she’s inside me as deep as I’m inside her.

She’s supposed to cry no, not yes, when my balls tighten and I thrust in hard.

I’m not supposed to finish off in her pussy.

I’m not supposed to come inside her.

I’m not supposed to grunt and shudder and unload deep as she pants for me.

It shouldn’t feel like heaven as her sweet crazy cunt milks me dry.

She shouldn’t make me feel the way she’s making me feel right now.

My black swan is supposed to be fighting to get away, not lying sated underneath me with her cheek on the tarmac as I pull my barbells free one by one.

My breaths are heavy on her neck as I lift myself free.

I’m reeling as I shove my cock back in my jeans.

She still doesn’t move. Not even an inch.

She’s a wreck in the shadows with her legs spread wide, glancing over her shoulder as though she wants round two.

But I’m already retreating. Already backing away into the darkness.

I register her confusion. The disappointment in the way her eyes search, until she moves enough to feel the mess she’s in.

She’s taken enough. So much more than enough already.

She winces as she rises. Cries out as she registers how rough she just had it.

I watch her ease slowly to her feet, so slowly. Tenderly.

I watch her find her bearings and come to her senses.

She staggers before she finds her balance – a few precarious footsteps before she’s on her way barefoot, her heels lost in the dark.

I watch my black swan back through the trucks and out the other side. I watch her feel her way along the building and back to the main road.

I watch as she finds the handbag she didn’t even realise she’d dropped earlier.

I watch her all the way back to her car and out of my life.

There’s a terrible knot in my gut as she drives out of sight.

And a terrible sense of regret that I’ll never see her again.