http://rickcoplin.com/?attachment_id=5095 ~ erotica ~
[TRIGGER WARNING: This is a rape fantasy.]
It was late, the deep dark that normally scared me. But I was surrounded by sleeping kinksters, and I was at camp, at home. I strolled down the path towards my cabin, a small smile on my face, happy to be back amongst my people.
I was tired, ready to pass out and recharge for my next day of filthy fucking fun.
I didn’t notice him. Didn’t notice his steps towards me. Didn’t hear his approach. Didn’t know he was there until his knife was against my neck. His blade against my skin and his arm around my ribs ceased my jovial pace.
“You were beautiful tonight. I saw you staring at me all during the social.”
His breath tickled my ear.
I didn’t know who he was, didn’t know what he was talking about.
I thought about screaming, hoping someone would wake up and realize my call was not in pleasure but in distress. He dissuaded me of that idea.
“I sharpen this blade twice a day. Sharpen it to where if I even run my finger over it I’ll cut myself. Can you imagine what would happen if you even whimpered? If you spoke out of turn and I simply pressed my steel just the tiniest bit harder against you skin?
“You’re not going to whimper, are you? You’re not going to say a word, not even a whisper. You’re going to do what I want because you have the prettiest neck, the prettiest neck I’ve ever seen. You won’t cry out, will you? You value your neck more than that, don’t you?”
I felt the tear drift down the side of my face. Felt as it kissed his hand, the hand holding the blade against my neck.
“That’s what I thought.”
There was a nudge, a soft pull with his arm against my ribs. We stepped onto the grass. It was wet, the evening cool air bringing dew to the blades.
As he knelt, I knelt. His knife stayed on my neck as he pushed me down into the grass. He loomed above me. In the dark, I couldn’t see his face. I was almost pleased I’d forgotten my flashlight.
I heard the zipper. Felt his cock through the fabric of my dress. He pushed it up above my hips. More tears slipped down my face. His free hand eased my legs apart, then eased himself inside me. Despite myself, I let out a sigh as he entered me.
“I knew you would love this,” he said. “I knew you wanted this. I’ve known you wanted me for so long. And now you get to have me.”
His blade stayed on my neck. I could barely breathe, the threat of my blood on his steel an ever present fear.
His thrusts were long and slow, deep into me. Were he a lover, I would’ve said he cared. Were he a lover, I might’ve loved it. Even with the fear, my body could not deny his skill. The length and depth of his cock. The way it fit me so well. The way it hit all the right spots, gliding in and out the way my body wanted.
Were he a lover, my orgasm would’ve incited tears of joy. Instead, my cum gave tears of shame as he continued to stroke in and out of me, his blade by my neck, his lips against my ear, whispering his pleasure, pulling forth joy my body desired but my mind didn’t want to accept.
“I know you love me inside of you. I know you don’t want me to stop. And I won’t stop. Not til I’ve made you cum more times than you can count. Not til my voice is the only sound rattling around in your mind. Not til I’ve had every bit of your body. Not til I am burned in you. You will remember me.”
And I do, even now. Even though I don’t want to. Even though I wish I didn’t. Even though I never saw his face.
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