Embrace Life Without Remorse Part 4
Hayden recognized her friend from across the sidewalk as they strolled by. Excitement filled her as she stepped onto the restaurant's patio, where Kristen eagerly stood. Laughing, they embraced, overjoyed at the chance to reunite in person. Although they chatted almost daily via text, there was something special about catching up face-to-face that gave them a renewed sense of clarity and peace.
Salads were ordered before Kristen steered the conversation towards the mystery man in Hayden's life. "Alright, spill the beans. Tell me about the new guy!" Hayden beamed, referring to the photo she had shared.
Kristen nodded as she examined the picture, agreeing how "totes adorable" he was. Hayden proceeded to explain how not only was the man eye-catching, but also intelligent. "Works for NASA," she bragged. Kristen insisted he was more than just a charming face. "Is he an actual rocket scientist?" she teased.
Hesitating, Hayden explained how he was not a rocket scientist himself but involved in robotics, space exploration, and more. His enthusiasm amused and intrigued Kristen, who had noticed her friend's excited expression.
"I'll be honest, Hayden. You seem to really like this one. Catchin' feelings?" Kristen playfully questioned.
Bashfully, Hayden admitted, "I might be."
"Girl, when you fall in love, you go all-in," Kristen said, recognizing the blissful look on her friend's face.
"Yeah, but you're always so smart about noticing red flags," Hayden conceded.
Kristen happily agreed to help: "I'll be happy to help you find out if he's a keeper. So, what about this dude?"
Hayden smiled and said she knew her friend wasn't a fan of Commitment-Phobe Hayden, but had begun to feel like she was ready to be more than just a girl flitting from man to man. "But you still need to be careful! He could be a player!" Kristen noted.
"Well, Saturday night I'm planning on inviting him over. If you and Dax can meet him and give him a thumbs up, that might help," Hayden suggested to her friend.
"I'll be there, with my hippie mama bickies there to keep things flowing. Let's have him over," Kristen smiled. She could tell Hayden's heart was in it.
Meeting Brandon's test was important to Kristen, who worried about Hayden's past relationships. She liked that he brought toys for her daughters. He was gentle, sweet, patient, and truly seemed interested in Hayden's life. He spoke of her background, his respect for her, his love of his late father, and the hurt of losing his mother.
Listening to Brandon's story, Kristen noticed more importantly his body language towards Hayden. His admiration was evident. "I'm super-curious to know what he does!" she told him. Hayden's smile glowed brighter than ever. Brandon's words, his laughter, and even his silent gestures told Kristen everything she needed to know: he was good for Hayden and worthy of her affection. Kristen forgot she was there to vet his character, as she noticed the depth and kindness of his soul.
The love Hayden had for Brandon was truly heartfelt, demonstrating a bond beyond lust. Kristen was pleased to see Hayden with the potential love of her life. This could be another chance for her friend to try trusting someone again. Hayden mentioned she considered it marriage, envisioning a reunion with her daughter in the future, which made Kristen's heart swell. "Saturday night, m'girl...I'm there!" Kristen nodded, willing to do whatever she could to help Hayden.
Following dessert, she discreetly placed a hand underneath the table and tapped on her spouse's knee. That served as the secret sign.
Dax interjected the ongoing conversation by addressing Brandon from across the table.
"Brandon, Hayden mentioned you keep a telescope in your vehicle?"
Brandon gave a nod in response, "Only a small one for clear celestial sightings."
Dax gave a nod to his daughters, "The girls would appreciate it if you could point out some cosmic wonders in the backyard."
Brandon gave another nod, "Certainly. I'll fetch my device."
Together, they stood from the table. Dax directed them towards the backyard entrance.
Kristen winked secretively at her husband. He had completed his task admirably.
With the men and children exiting, Kristen was prepared to make her assessment.
"Well?" Hayden inquired.
"You're not off base about him," Kristen affirmed. "He's stable, comedic, and captivating. He's excellent with the daughters. Yes... he's not a sworn bachelor. You've never attracted someone like this before."
Hayden grinningly confirmed, "So, I'm not out of my mind?"
"Oh, you're crazy for him. That's not an issue, as long as you tread carefully. I'd advise you not to impulsively wed, but he's not the calculated type."
"No, he's not," Hayden acknowledged. "Sometimes I'm unsure how to take him. He's unlike anyone I've dated."
"That's a good point," Kristen said. "It's advantagous to see you escaping your comfort zone. I do not recall you dating an intellectually curious man before."
"Vlad wasn't uneducated," Hayden defended.
"Darling, this individual is a veritable rocket scientist," Kristen maintained.
"No, he's not!" Hayden claimed.
"Accept the truth, this is Los Angeles. It's not a city that values nuance. You're dating a rocket scientist," Kristen insisted.
Hayden chuckled, "Well, that's a relief."
Kristen snugly braced her elbows on the table and whipped her voice into a whisper, "And how about his sexual prowess?"
Hayden mirrored the pose and whispered back, "Well, we're both fans of bondage. He placed me in handcuffs last weekend."
"Uh-oh!" Kristen laughed, "What was that like once you had been bound?"
"He did this hot wax thing," Hayden described, waving a finger over her chest.
Kristen smiled, "So, what occurred next?"
"He went down on me," Hayden explained, sipping her water.
"How was it?" Kristen sought to understand.
"He's delectable at it," Hayden said. She thought, "He does that a lot."
"His mouth succulently devours your—?" Kristen said, probing further.
"Not that," Hayden laughed, "He eats my vagina like it's a cure. I mean, he's not rough. He's been tender since that first time. No more open-handed strikes, thank goodness."
"But since that opening encounter?" Kristen inquired.
"He's been soft," Hayden affirmed.
Kristen gauged her friend's expression and encouraged her to continue.
"I just..." Hayden began, "I need to be violently fucked. You know? Like, he's making love to me and it's nice, but..." She paused. "I want to be ravaged! I want to be held down and ruthlessly taken. You know? With a capital F. I want him to fuck me like he has my vagina's rental contract in his back pocket. Like he paid my vagina's pimp a hundred more."
Kristen cracked up. "Alright, there you go."
Hayden carried on, "I've seen his arms. The bulk of him? He should be raping me, in a romanticized and cultural manner, like he raided the most beautiful girl in the village."
Kristen chuckled, "Does that sound appealing?"
"No questions," Hayden commanded. "I'm not answering any queries."
Kristen chortled with delight. Hayden felt embarrassed, but Kristen understood her desires.
"You think?" Hayden inquired. She bit her lower lip with uncertainty.
Kristen studied Hayden's pink tongue gliding over her teeth.
"He might traverse the minefield to find the right pace," Kristen declared.
"Do you believe so?" Hayden anxiously sought clarification.
Kristen contemplated and observed Hayden's bottom lip.
"Perhaps," Kristen mulled over. "If you lie on your back for him, yes." [
Hayden nodded in understanding, "He treats me like a royalty."
Kristen chuckled, "That's because of your face."
"What do you mean?" Hayden inquired.
"He's having sex with you face-to-face. He's... kind of cute, don't you think?" she commented.
"What?" Hayden asked, perplexed.
"He can't bring himself to hurt you because you're attractive. I've seen this before with nice guys. They're soft at heart. Guys like that... they can't look you in the eye before doing something harmful."
"Is this common?" Hayden inquired.
"Apparently," Kristen added. "You said he's a fan. He's watched you act for years. Your face... it must confuse him."
Hayden pondered, "We did open up to each other. We shared our vulnerabilities."
"Did you?" Kristen questioned, leaving the thought hanging.
"I didn't want to lie to him. And I didn't want him to be invested before learning the truth about me."
"How did he react?" Kristen inquired.
"Like he wanted to protect me from the outside world," Hayden described.
"So, he won't be able to be aggressive if he thinks you're fragile as glass."
"We promised to be honest with each other," Hayden stated.
"Before or after you told him your darkest secrets?" Kristen challenged.
Hayden paused, then admitted, "Before."
A silent moment passed between them.
"Did I ruin this?" Hayden wondered.
"Absolutely not," Kristen assured. "But, if you want his dominant side to emerge, you'll need to bring it out."
"How?" Hayden questioned.
"Act girly. Act charming. Just play along. As Britney said, 'you're not that innocent.'" Kristen suggested.
Hayden smiled, "I can do that."
"Have you engaged in any rough play with him?" Kristen asked.
"He hasn't asked," Hayden said.
"Give it a try. He'll forget you're the girl from Remember the Titans in his bed," Kristen urged.
"Isn't that going against the order of things?" Hayden remarked. "Shouldn't he just take control without being asked?"
Kristen raised her chin in the direction of the back door, "He's terrified. One wrong move, and he'll constantly think about it until he dies."
Hayden looked back in the direction Kristen had indicated, but couldn't see through the glass door's reflection, "Pity the poor guy."
Kristen placed her hand on Hayden's arm, steering her attention back. "Have you ever turned down a job offer for a project?" she posed to Hayden.
"Sometimes, but I'm careful with my choices," Hayden replied.
"I remember when I was starting out. I'd take any job as long as it paid. I simply wanted to work. I was scared if I ever turned down a job, I'd get labeled as difficult and never work again."
Hayden acknowledged her experience, "I remember that feeling."
Kristen continued, "My agent brought me a terrible script and told me to reject it. I asked why and she explained that I needed to demonstrate that I won't settle for subpar projects. If I said 'no' to one bad job, I'd never have to do it again."
Hayden realized the message, "If I make him lose control once, he'll never need to do it again."
"Show him you're a serious player," Kristen concluded.
With each step towards the porch, Brandon's mind raced over the question Kristen had posed to her husband, "Thoughts?"
Dax, seemingly confident, responded, "He's a geek, but he's a cool dude. Really intelligent and he could charm any girl. I'd have him around again."
Kristen shrugged and glanced at her best friend, "I say, let him be."
As they drove out of Kristen's driveway, Hayden figured he'd deal with Brandon's unexpected outburst the following day.
The night had been delightful thus far. No need to stir up any unnecessary complications.
Hayden made the turn at the end of the road, and he flipped on the radio in the car. Tedious NPR tones echoed throughout the vehicle. She caught a sideward glance from Hayden.
"Why'd you put that on?" he asked.
"To get the news," she replied nonchalantly.
Her tongue clicked against her teeth as she scanned through the radio stations.
Classic rock welcomed Bon Jovi over the airwaves. She paid homage to that. Another station offered jazz, which she deemed as likely. Some oldies plaid "Pretty Woman." Nope. She was searching for something with a little more pop.
A solution bombarded her thoughts.
Her finger landed on the jazz station once more. Then, she lowered the volume to a level where they could converse. Hayden appeared to agree.
"My place or yours?" she asked.
"Where do you want to go again?" he retorted.
"Nowhere. Follow me downtown," she said.
He gazed at her questioningly.
She wasn't about to share her elaborate plan so soon. Her direction to downtown, Los Angeles was among the many components vital for its success. No way could this take place in Pasadena or Beverly Hills.
"We're nearly there," she told him.
"Just tell me where to go," he responded.
"Nope," she said, shrugging. She puckered her lips in his direction, ensuring he'd remember her playful gesture. "Be a good boy and make a left here."
Compliant, he executed her request. At this point, whatever she was planning didn't even dawn on him.
She steered them towards a neighborhood, blurring the lines between rundown and sketchy.
"It's about five blocks up ahead," she informed.
"Any specific location?" he inquired.
"Nope," she said, employing her flirtatious vibe to keep things light. "Hey, how much money do you have on you?"
"Well..." he hesitated, "Let me see." He rummaged through his wallet and handed it to her.
She rummaged through the cash he offered, "Someone really likes two-dollar bills, huh?"
"They spend just the same," he explained. "It's a great icebreaker with cashiers or kids."
"Kids on school trips?" she questioned further.
"Yep," he replied. "I work at JPL, and we have school visits often."
Her mind jumbled through the pieces of this newfound information, "Awe. You really are a saver-of-the-day, aren't you?"
"Don't make it sound like a bad thing," he defended.
"It's not. But it makes things more difficult," she shared, momentarily breaking from her feisty guise.
"Am I being broken up with?" he wondered.
"Of course not, you cowardly lion," she said, kissing his cheek. She paused and whispered keenly, "Be careful what you wish for," before continuing, "Head left."
Her trust in him to follow her mysterious plan was palpable. Every movement, every instruction was guided by the need to conceal the truth.
"You've got a hundred and thirty-two dollars," she said, snatching his wallet and placing it back in his jacket.
"Is that all of it?" he inquired.
She nodded. The scene was set - a thrift shop on the left and a movie theater on the right. The well-lit theater would come in handy.
"Pull over next to the thrift store," she instructed. She lifted the armrest between the seats, grabbed his pocket knife, and stuffed it into her purse.
"Can I get a pocket knife too?" he joked.
"Why would you need a pocket knife on an outing to In-N-Out?" she circled the question back to him. "Go get two chocolate shakes and maybe some burgers. The vegan stuff isn't cutting it," she added with disapproval.
"Alright," he agreed, his curiosity growing. "Be right back."
Before he could leave, she added, "Park in the lot where the movie theater is when you return."
"How does any of this make sense?" he asked.
"It will once we reach our destination," she teased, leaving him curious. "After you park, roll down the passenger window."
He nodded and drove off, as innocent as ever.
She pressed a finger to his lips, "Do as I say."
He kept quiet and she bent forward, leaving a subtle kiss on the tip of his nose. She was just as capable of being adorable.
Before he could inquire about her intentions, she departed. She closed the door and entered the thrift store. She heard his car retreating behind her and was relieved. Understandably, he'd be hesitant to leave her in a place like this, but he had the intelligence to obey instructions.
The thrift store itself wasn't much more than average, but the inventory wasn't bad. Its scent was unremarkable, but she didn't intend to spend much time within its walls.
Reflecting on her attire, she wore a green sundress - something she'd always found plain. It was cute, yet falling short of fitting her current objective.
Dashing past the store's cashier, who appeared more engrossed in her phone than illuminating customers, Hayden located the women's section. She needed something... provocative.
Hayden had a grasp on the females who frequented establishments like these. She had no qualms about their occupations. In Los Angeles, one had to employ all facets of their charms to make a life. She was no different.
Hunting for an appropriate ensemble, she chanced upon a white shirt that had seen better days. If it were clean enough, it'd suffice. Her hunt for the right pair of jeans proved less strenuous, but finding an acceptable pair presented a challenge. Her pocket housed a swiss army knife.
This, Hayden knew, was an entertaining endeavor.
As she scanned the footwear available, she wavered between sexy and ludicrous. She acknowledged Brandon's fondness for high-heels. Yet, considering her own stance, she shook her head. She glanced at her feet and nodded.
"I'll keep my tasteful heels for another occasion," she chuckled to herself.
At the register, the concierge tallied her shirt and jeans. Hayden examined the counter and noticed fishnet stockings bundled in groups. She held one out and glanced at the cashier questioning with an inquisitive brow.
"We deal with plenty of those," she confessed.
Hayden weighed her options and claimed a pack above her white t-shirt. It was included in the total.
"Thirty-two fifty," the concierge declared.
Hayden laid a hundred on the counter and gracefully thanked the woman with a smile.
"You know me?" she asked.
"No," the cashier replied.
"Fantastic. Let's keep it that way," smiled Hayden.
The cashier hesitated and pocketed the hundred.
"A changing room here?" Hayden confirmed.
"Might wanna find a stall at the restroom in the back to the right," the cashier suggested.
"Five minutes won't be long," Hayden offered.
In the unadorned restroom, Hayden took full advantage of the borrowed tool and concluded her efforts. The shirt succumbed to her sharp blade, transforming into a midriff-baring skeleton. Her jeans underwent a stylish makeover, prompting her to opt out of the back layer altogether.
The fishnet stockings were procured from their packaging, and the green dress that lacked its former glory was discarded in the trash.
Rejoining the real world, she was now draped in an LA streetwalker's attire. The chilly February breeze brushed her exposed belly, and she shivered. No one would be searching for her, and even if she was detected, there was no reason they'd trust her current appearance.
She eyed Brandon's car stopped at the traffic lights some distance away. She'd timed her approach expertly. Her character came alive as he circled, securing a parking spot parallel to hers - about ten feet away. She unfurled her new persona with flair.
She approached his car gradually, leaning over and putting her arms on the window's edge. She mirrored his expression of shock and waited for him to initiate their game.
"Hey there, honey. Having a wild night?" she asked, embracing her best southern drawl.
"Perhaps, perhaps," he muttered. She observed that his own Southern accent surfaced when he was tired. He allowed the drawl to envelope his words. "How much for the entire night?" he inquired.
"Up until morning? That'll cost you a hundred," she answered. It was difficult not to roll her eyes. She was now leaning into the car, her arms folded on the open window of the door. She didn't desire any other ears to hear them. If anyone did, they'd believe she was the most affordable in Southern California.
He made a face, as though it was an issue. She appreciated his ability to play.
"Well, I don't know," he questioned. "What if I want that extraordinary stuff too?"
"I'd need to seek the advice of Big Mickey," she informed him.
"Big Mickey?" he inquired, nearly breaking character.
"Mickey doesn't appreciate anyone mistreating his women. Are you rough?" she questioned.
"Oh yes," he replied. She appreciated the confident tone he was employing.
She contemplated his answer, "Hmm, how much are you carrying with you, sweetie?"
He retrieved his wallet from his jacket pocket, drawing it out from where she'd placed it earlier and removed a wad of twenties, "I've got three hundred," he told her.
Her eyes widened. She hadn't anticipated him improvising, but, indeed, there was the money.
"Three hundred will get you the raunchiest experience of your life, darlin'," she mentioned, smirking.
"So get in the damn car," he instructed.
"Show me the cash," she requested, extending her hand. He placed the stack of twenties in her palm. She counted them conspicuously before tucking them into her bra.
She heard the car's door lock unlock and she climbed into the passenger seat. She slipped her hand over his arm, down his leg, and then onto his groin.
"Fuck, I'll be sore in the morning," she said, giving his shaft a squeeze over his pants.
"Count on it," he promised.
They had the fortune of traffic gods on their side. They returned to Brandon's abode in no time. She took a sip from her milkshake during the journey home. It wasn't difficult to make it appear alluring and seductive. And it provided her with some energy and calorie intake, both of which she would require.
Upon their arrival at his residence, she put the In-N-Out bag on the counter and turned to face him.
She scrutinized his apartment as if she had never been there before. She was determined to play the game all the way to orgasm, and potentially beyond. She traveled down the short hallway that led to the bedroom door. He was in the process of hanging up his jacket.
She assumed her Southern accent once more, "So, sweetheart. What do I get for my money?"
She gasped as he seized her from behind. He had a hold of her ponytail and his other arm moved around her waist. He pushed her, vigorously, into the bare wall of the hallway.
"I'm going to get my money's worth, you dirty slut," he shouted. His breath was hot on her ear and she felt adrenaline, coupled with a touch of apprehension.
Fuck. Yes.
She nodded, sensing the shift in control as he manipulated her body. "Don't hurt me," she said, with her best little whimper accompanying.
"I paid for this ass. It's mine now," he pronounced, delivering a resounding slap to her derriere over her Daisy Duchesse shorts. She leaped and recoiled. He seemed to savor that reaction and hit her again, eliciting the same response. She followed with an additional whimper.
He yanked her hair and she arched her back. He kissed her neck and she felt teeth. Brandon enjoyed biting. She'd learned that much over the past couple of weeks. This sensation on her neck made her feel safer. It was familiar. Regardless of who he was, he was still himself.
He propelled her towards the bedroom, bursting the door open. She randomly wondered if the neighbors would hear. Then, he shoved her face-first onto the bed. She smirked, determined to ensure the neighbors would hear plenty before this was over.
She sensed him discarding her shorts and discarding them. He reached for her panties. She realized what was impending and continued playing her part.
"But I only have this one pair of pants!" she cried, fearing for her clothes.
He yanked the threadbare shirt right down the middle. Once again, the sound of tearing fabric struck her. A sensation she enjoyed. She made a mental note to purchase additional articles of clothing for him to tear.
"Oh no!" she exclaimed, shielding her chest a little, as if she could sense embarrassment in such a moment.
"Don't you dare!" he yelled, grabbing her wrist and jerking it aside. She observed him lift his arm and prepare. She desired this so much.
He struck her hard across the face. His forceful right hand infused a jolt of lightning from her cheek to her clit. She loved the sensation of such strength. The primal urge. The raw need. She wouldn't want it to end, but she felt naughty knowing it couldn't. He had crossed the threshold now. If she had uttered a safe word, would he have stopped? She knew she wouldn't have needed to discover this.
He removed her bra, unfastening it between her breasts and exposing them. The twenties tumbled out and she watched them fall behind the bed.
"Please, I'll behave," she pleaded, using the skills she had acquired in front of the camera to aid him in his role.
He brushed his hand across her jaw, allowing her a brief moment to prepare. She appreciated this. He wasn't truly meaning to harm her, but they both required this. She required the bad boy, and he required to fuck her bad. The second slap was as strong. She flexed and allowed momentum to propel her into a roll. She turned to face down.
Now she presented herself to him. Face down, ass upward, nothing adorning her body but heels, fishnets, and a crimson handprint. She sensed him grab her hair again and then made his move.
She emitted a low groan and then allowed herself to cry slightly. An appropriate cry. The sort producers had forced her to practice for months. She was aware that her cue was imminent. Brandon was making things easy.
"Please," she begged, widening her legs intentionally. She heard his belt come lose and a memory resurfaced in her mind. Before it could emerge completely, she recognized his distinctive zipper sound. He was finishing.
Conscious of the fact that one shouldn't penetrate a prostitute without a condom, he pulled her hair, exerting the arch of her back. It felt delightful. He entered her from behind, granting her ten satisfying inches. She sighed in pleasure, faking her position as a good slut.
"Fuck! Yes, like that! You fucking beast!" she cried out, a sense of intimacy washing over her.
Brandon didn't waste any time. She found herself positioned on his bed, in the pose he desired, with the cock she yearned for within her. He slammed into her vigorously. She had predicted he could do this, but he'd been too gentle to display his capabilities.
As he started to thrash and hump her like a loyal whore, she felt a peculiar closeness. She had been dating Brandon for almost a month, but at this instant, she had truly met him. To comprehend his neediness, his instincts. To see him when he felt empowered. Her mind had never uncovered this side of Brandon. However, she had opened the door for him.
When he yanked her arm behind her, she yelped. She also intensified her grip on his cock and moaned upon his spanking her bottom. This was not an act. When he tightened his hold on her chest, she gasped for air, sensing the leather strap choking her a little. That was fine. [She adored the way he understood her. She didn't say any coherent words for minutes, yet he understood her needs. When he wrapped the black leather dog collar around her neck, she felt the understanding of her true self. He tightened it, snapped the buckle, and she gasped for air, feeling the slight constriction from the leather strap.) She lost her capacity for performance as he penetrated her. Her accent vanished and was superseded by a basic, "Yes. Oh God, yes. Brandon! Just like that. Oh God, that feels so good. Fuck!"
She uttered a string of uninterrupted, 'n's and he responded with another strike that landed on her cheek. It wasn't nearly as intense or agonizing, but it garnered her attention. She experienced his squeezing her breasts and treating her like his property. She relished it.
She mused at his proficiency at decoding her. She hadn't spoken any comprehensible words in minutes, yet he grasped what she required most. When he encircled the black leather dog collar around her neck, she felt the comprehension of her true nature. He tightened it and secured it, causing her to gasp for breath, feeling slightly choked by the leather strap. That was acceptable.
He was the master, and she was his slave. If he wished her to gasp, she'd gasp right away. Her sight momentarily went blank and then immediately returned as he adjusted her collar around her neck. The air flowed back through her lungs, and though he was clearly in control, there was a hint of sweetness about him that contradicted his tyrannical behavior. Brandon was far from a cruel man; it was just his way of playing the bad guy sometimes.
Her orgasm surged through her, leaving her in a state of complete numbness. For a moment, she could see stars, hear a deafening roar, and feel her body convulse uncontrollably. When she managed to gather her senses, she realized the roar had emanated from her own lips. The powerful climax had robbed her of any control left in her, making her truly lose herself.
She was simply a tool, a device designed for his pleasure. This was the method by which he had placed her. It was perfect. She was relieved to be freed of responsibility.
Soft whimpers escaped her lips as he continued the grueling pleasure her body was savoring. She struggled to keep track of the multiple waves of ecstasy flowing through her. Her entire being seemed to be alive with energy, each one a burst that radiated from the tip of her clitoris to her toes. Her most fervent dream was for this sensation to last forever.
The first thought to cross her mind seemed superfluous in the moment, but it was as relevant as she could manage.
"Fuck me like a whore," she moaned, a primal cry that only served to strengthen his hold. She felt his long, strong fingers caress her body. Although his touch was gentle, a hint of ruthlessness remained. She felt no urge to resist. As far as she was concerned, she was simply a sex toy, deliberately crafted this way to enhance his enjoyment. A tiny voice in the back of her mind whimpered in agreement.
One last time, she was forced upright. Her hair was once again forcibly pulled away, her head forced back. He grabbed her and shoved his massive erection inside her. Her heels lifted off the ground, her back arched in a plea to cater to his satisfaction. All too aware of her position, she complied with complete happiness. This desire to please him was both instinctive and the deepest wish of her heart.
She tensed at the sight of his foot appearing to one side of her head. She'd never viewed such a position before, but the mere sight of him assuming this stance filled her with excitement. If she could muster the coherence to speak, she'd commend his gleeful defiance of etiquette. Instead, she simply had to lie there, waiting to submit to his dark desires.
"FUUUUUCK!" she echoed, a barely audible sound as soft and slurring as a whisper, full of raw energy and lust. No one had ever thrust so violently into her; it had left her vulnerable and powerless, completely at his mercy. What she felt was unparalleled bliss.
He now pummeled her faster, letting her body take the third-degree punishment. She felt the throbbing inside her pussy intensify. She was at his mercy, and it felt so good. Intuitively, she cried out in a mix of passion and supplication.
"Brandon!" she cried. It was all she could manage to say, a plea for what would come next. Thankfully, she knew what he wanted. With a renewed vigor, he plunged further into her. He then shifted to arrange her barely conscious body into the next position.
As her face turned to the side, she heard a noise she'd never heard before. There was his bare foot, landing with a fatal certainty. She realized what this new position meant and her eyes widened in awe. One moment she was exalting in submission, the next she was a pet beneath his complete power. Despite this, she felt no fear or revulsion at this fatal mix of lust and domination.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" she wailed, a long, drawn-out scream of pleasure and surrender. She had never been content in a position of such vulnerability, never felt so utterly humiliated and at the mercy of another individual. But now, as her body shuddered with each thrust, she became more certain than ever that this was exactly what she needed. The pleasure was undeniable; she eagerly accepted her fate.
The conclusion's disheartening reality hit her even harder than anticipated. The striking trail of her tears lined her cheeks smoothly, as if intended for a more convincing performance. Her body finally relinquished, a pool of limp muscles and quivering limbs. She worshipped the ground her captor laid his taut figure on, her center aching with his eminence. Her womb hid his raging erection, secretly rewarding her for having been fucked so heavenly.
Tentatively, she turned her hand towards his body and scratched at his stone physique. Adoring his broad arm that encircled her petite structure sent a rush of relish through her limbs. The softness of his body beneath the unyielding surface overwhelmed her. Captivated, she smothered her warmth into his hardness, feeling him gradually succumb to her delightful attention. Jealously, she tangled her legs and pumped him, eliciting more groans from his groin. She reveled in this passionate exchange before he softened, marking her victory.
Hugging her knees to her chest, she stole glimpses at his bearded face and bold eyes. Her heart pained to see the release of his feral nature and yearned for the return of the kind gentleman who left her hundreds of wishes ago. Wisps of his salt-and-pepper beard tantalizingly flirted with her neck, coaxing her to kiss him. To erase her fear, she pressed her lips against his, entirely trusting and craving his approval.
She rasped through labored breaths, "Nnn." Thinking was a torturous struggle, so she repeated her gasps shortly, "You... could... do that?"
He was speechless, but the subtle caress of her sinewy limbs indicated his still-alive condition. "Yes," he said huskily. "I didn't want to... scare you."
She gently removed his hefty presence from her warm confines. Revulsion convulsed through her, yet her embrace resisted him with unbreakable need. Desperate, she averted her face upwards and buried her eyes to the dawning light, a lone pine tree in a never-ending forest. "You can do that every day?"
A groan of reluctance pierced the serenity, "Not... every... time," he said through his panting. The serenity outside and within her clashed in a sea of confused emotions.
"But you can do that?" she questioned vocally. Her voice grazed and scratched her vocal cords like an unwilling lamb.
He seemed to utter, "Yes." Shocked, she noticed his eyes gaze deeply into her own without notice or comprehension.
She retrieved the hard and firm collar around his neck, breaking their connection in disdain and discouragement. Her body craved his return, aching to arch her back and ensnare him. "Don't you ever hold back on me again, you hear?"
Not a word, but her desperate need had roused him back to reality. She brushed her fingers against his stubbly chin as his lids closed. Shoulders slumping, he knew what was expected.
"Don't you ever fucking hold back on me again, Dax," she implored soberly, fear hinging with her desire for this man who upheld both her fears and desires in her heart. After a lengthy and tormented relationship, she knew he was hers.
However, the next morning in the garden, Kristen recalled the text Hayden sent, holding the world in her hands. "The Viking lives."
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