His hands descended, cupping my breasts roughly, kneading them like dough. Thumbs flicked over my nipples, pinching hard enough to make me arch despite myself. Pain mixed with unwelcome sparks of pleasure. "So sensitive," he murmured. Then his mouth latched on,tongue swirling around one peak, teeth grazing, biting down just enough to sting. I whimpered into the gag, body betraying me as heat built low in my belly. He sucked greedily, switching sides, licking and nipping, leaving wet trails that cooled on my skin.
He pulled back, voice husky. "Delicious. Your skin tastes like sin."
Then he shifted lower, hands shoving my skirt up, tearing at my panties until they ripped away, leaving me bare. His fingers spread my thighs, and I felt his hot breath there, right at my core. "Spread for me," he commanded, and before I could resist, his tongue dove in.
Oh God. He licked with expert precision, flicking over my clit, delving deep, tasting every fold. "Mmm, so wet already. You taste like heaven, Elena. Sweet and filthy." His words vibrated against me, sending jolts through my body. Humiliation burned—this was wrong, twisted—but the pleasure crashed in waves. His tongue felt... familiar? The way it curled, teased, like it'd mapped me before. I hated it, but my hips bucked involuntarily, chasing the sensation amid the shame.
He lapped hungrily, sucking on my clit, fingers joining to pump inside me. "Come on, give it to me." The buildup was relentless, my body coiling tight. Bent in humiliation, yet the bliss overrode it—I shattered, climaxing hard against his mouth, muffled cries escaping the gag as tremors wracked me.
He pulled away, licking his lips audibly. "I've been craving your pussy juices for so long. Finally mine."
Panting through the gag, I heard the zipper of his pants, the rustle of fabric. Then something hot and hard pressed against my entrance—thick, throbbing, demanding. He didn't wait; he thrust in brutally, stretching me to the limit. Pain flared, sharp and burning, but pleasure followed fast, my walls clenching around him as he filled me completely. "Fuck, so tight," he groaned, starting to move, each slam deep and punishing.
As he fucked me hard, his voice cut through: "Whose kid is that? The cute little blonde with blue eyes. You birthed her?"
My whole body went rigid. Him—the one lurking outside the kindergarten, watching Stella. Terror spiked, mixing with the unwantedecstasy.
He reached up, yanked the gag from my mouth. Drool spilled down my chin as I gasped. "Answer me. You dared have a kid with someone else?"
"Let me go! You fucking pervert! Help!" I screamed, voice raw, begging for anyone to hear.
"Pointless. The car's soundproof." He thrust harder, faster, anger fueling his rhythm. "You let him hold you, touch your hair, right? You disobedient little slut."
His hips snapped urgently, pounding deep, each stroke hitting spots that made me gasp despite the fear. He grabbed my hips, flipped me over roughly onto my knees, face pressed into the seat, ass up. Ropes bit into my wrists as he re-entered from behind, slamming in with renewed force.
Smack—his hand came down hard on my ass, stinging. "Bad girl." Another slap, then more, timing with his thrusts, turning my skin hot and red. The pain blurred into pleasure, building unbearably. I hated him, but my body responded, climbing toward release.
I came hard, clenching around him, waves crashing as I cried out. He didn't stop, kept fucking through it. "Bear me a kid like Stella. She needs siblings, doesn't she?"
His pace quickened, frantic, driving deep. As my aftershocks faded, he unloaded, hot spurts flooding my womb, claiming me.
I was still sensitive, reeling in the refractory haze, when his hand slapped my pussy—hard, deliberate smacks that sent shocks through my oversensitized nerves. I twitched, convulsed, another orgasm ripping through me unexpectedly, intense and shattering. Black spots danced in my vision behind the blindfold. Everything spun, overwhelmed, and darkness swallowed me whole as I passed out.
Chapter Fifteen
Elena
I woke up in bed, my whole body aching like I'd been run over by a truck. The room was pitch black—was it night already?
Memories from the afternoon flooded back like a tidal wave. The luxury car, the black cloth over my eyes, the man with the voice changer ripping my clothes off, his fingers digging into my inner thighs, and that near-maniacal possessiveness when he demanded to know whose child it was.
My jaw clenched. I forced myself to take deep breaths—Stella!
I rushed barefoot to Stella's room, my heart finally settling when I saw her. She was sitting at her little table, drawing, her blonde hair glowing softly under the lamp. At the sound of the door, she turned, her blue eyes sparkling.
"Mommy!" She dropped her crayons and ran to hug my legs. "You're finally awake! I drew so many pictures for you!"
I crouched down and pulled her into a tight embrace, burying my face in her soft hair. She was here. Safe. Unharmed.
"Baby." My voice was hoarse. "Did Mommy sleep a long time?"
"Yeah!" She tilted her little face up. "Aunt Mary said you were really tired and not to wake you. I was good—I just kept drawing!"
Sounds of cooking and delicious smells wafted from the kitchen. I stood, took Stella's hand, and walked out. Mary was busy at the stove, her apron spotted with tomato sauce. She saw me and offered a warm smile.
"Miss Elena, you're awake. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes."
"Mary." I paused at the kitchen doorway, trying to keep my voice steady. "How did I get home this afternoon?"
