Dreamcatcher

[NightmaresAndDreamscapes]

D R E A M C A T C H E R



Disclaimer: Nonconsensual elements are a running theme in most of my work. If you find this disturbing, I advise you not to read further.
This is all for the sake of alleviating my own perpetual boredom and in no way do I condone these actions in the real world. If these
stories are considered unacceptable content by the administrators, I will gladly refrain from posting stories of this nature. This
is a dumping ground for all of my writing. Some will be clean, most will be smut, and all will be unapologetically depraved.

 

[NightmaresAndDreamscapes]

Just some excerpts from a scene that I did a while back revolving around a nightmare scenario in which an accountant
who cooks the books for the mob is caught in a scheme to skim off the profits made through their various enterprises.
In a bid to get him to give up his accomplices, his eighteen-year-old daughter is taken captive by a pair of hitmen
who know their employers well enough to know that her father is a dead man walking and that his daughter
is about to become the property of the Marino crime family. One of them wastes no time in initiating
her into this life, a sex maniac who thoroughly enjoys her company while she's in their care...

These are just my posts and while I have the other player's posts in a file on my computer,
I've got to go through and edit it a bit before posting their responses. I will get around to
it eventually, though. Content warning: nonconsensual sex and kidnapping, mainly. 

Forgive the quality in certain places. It is, as they say, dogshit, mate. It's dogshit.



Keith could feel his heart pounding as the van swung onto Lexington Avenue, threading through traffic before making a sharp left onto Glendale and abruptly cutting off an approaching taxi, the driver laying on the horn. After a few more minutes of this meandering route across Manhattan, he could feel his pulse steady and that familiar calm descend over him, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before gripping the rearview and twisting it down so that he was staring at the curve of Mitch's back. The dark gray fabric of his uniform swelled and flattened with each breath, the material shifting with each movement. His brow furrowed slightly, able to tell that the young redhead was already out cold but that Mitch was in no hurry to start binding her. 

"What's going on back there? She out or what?" Keith asked, already knowing the answer. "Hurry up, we're gonna be there in less than five minutes."

"Just give me a fuckin’ minute," Mitch said, his left hand pulling her shirt up enough to slide his hand along her slender stomach, the rag still tight over her mouth, red locks framing her face. "Just making sure she's out. You want her to wake up and start screaming on the way in?"

Mitch dimpled her cheek with his thumb, stroking the curve of her jaw and breathing down into her face. She seemed weightless against his chest, arms dangling on either side of her body with her elbows hooked loosely over his thighs, pale fingers trailing the floor of the van. Mitch let the rag fall down and slide between her breasts, the hand that was holding it slipping around to the back of her head and coursing through the red strands for a moment before gripping them and pulling her face up to his. The upper half of her body slid up the crest of his engorged stomach, pounds of fat hiding the considerable muscle beneath, her head rolling back and her lips parting just enough to make her sleeping face irresistible to her captor. He grinned and leaned forward, lips mashing against hers while his fingers naturally worked their way under the fabric of her denim shorts and into the smooth valley between her thighs, a warmth radiating from her skin and mingling with the sensation of her silk panties stretching around his knuckles. He mashed his fingers against the soft cleft, feeling the folds begin to spread and push inward just as his tongue slid into her mouth.

Keith twisted his body around with his hands still gripping the steering wheel, reaching into the passenger seat to grab the duct tape Mitch had characteristically forgotten and hurling it into the back. "Pretty sure she's fucking out. Tie her up." There was a dissatisfied grunt followed by the sound of zip ties tightening and tape tearing, the whole process of getting Anya Surikov ready for the roughest week of her life taking no more than a few minutes. Mitch looked over his work one last time, the redhead breathing steadily with her arms and legs tied, her mouth covered with three layers of duct tape that stopped at the sides of her face. He hoisted her up with one arm, her lithe body laying against his shoulder and doing little to stem the flow of blood rushing into the throbbing muscle that she would grow to loathe over the next few days. 

With his free hand, he slid the heavy bag from beneath a clutter of equipment piled up against the side of the interior, the laces already open and the height of the thing just enough to accommodate their captive. After sliding Anya inside, he padded out the rest of the space using a bag of clothes that had been sitting just behind the driver's seat, cocooning the teenager in various cottons and silks and lacing the bag up just as the van squealed to a stop outside the apartment building. 

"Let's get her inside quick," Keith muttered and unzipped the maintenance uniform, Mitch doing the same before both disguises were discarded into the mostly emptied bag of clothing. Keith wore a pair of black shorts and a white tank top, Mitch a pair of black sweatpants and a dark gray tank top, the pair calmly stepping out of the van. The heavier of the two walked around to the back, casually pulling the doors open and slinging the punching bag over his shoulder. 

They stepped onto the sidewalk and entered the building, the interior deadly quiet and shrouded in the gloom that seemed to pervade the halls of these older structures. The walls were a pale blue that had long since faded to gray, the first floor hall like all the others, lined with doors leading to a variety of units that each housed their own dark secrets. Some tenants were junkies, some criminals, some perverts, none of whom would benefit from inviting the attention of the police. Even if Anya Surikov had kicked and screamed all the way up to the sixth floor, it wouldn’t have made any difference.

No one passed the enforcers as they trudged up the steps to the sixth floor, Keith unlocking apartment 603 and feeling a slight unease when he walked through the doorway and into the cramped unit. A dingy hallway led to the living room with hardwood floors, the left side of the space serving as a dining area and kitchen, with the latter being separated by a linoleum bar that spanned from the far wall to a span roughly half of the room. A couch, coffee table, and recliner were clustered together in the middle of the living room, the furniture grimy with age and having accumulated various stains from their many previous ‘guests.’ A forty-inch television sat atop a small stand on the opposite side of the room between two windows with dusty blinds.

Their paths diverged at the end of the hall. Keith stepped into the kitchen, the burner phone already in his hand while Mitch made a beeline for the door to the bedroom, the one that Anya would soon believe she'd be occupying for the rest of her life, nudging it open with his foot and heaving his bulk across the room to a bed with red silk sheets that lay draped over the mattress in disarray. He flung the punching bag onto the bed, the mattress causing it to bounce a few times before laying still. Mitch undid the laces while Keith made the call, his voice muffled as the door had swung back toward the frame, only a sliver of light knifing into the gloom of the bedroom. 

Mitch’s pudgy hands pulled the clothes out of the bag until Anya's face emerged, her eyes already starting to flutter when his fingers gripped her waist and lifted her out. His other arm swept the bag and the clothes off into the floor, throwing her down onto the bed and crawling up its length to loom over her, the hair on his forearms a carpet of dark strands that seemed to creep into the edge of her vision as she regained consciousness. It took her only a moment to realize that her hands and feet were tied, eyes cutting down the length of her body and a muffled whine accompanying her dawning horror, twisting against the bindings. 

"Welcome home, baby," Mitch clenched her cheeks in one of his hands, his gut swinging low and only inches from her flat stomach, obscuring the curving lump trailing down from his crotch that his sweatpants were stretching around. His fingers managed to tug the edge of the tape loose from her skin, tearing it loose in a flourish that caused a slight sting. "Scream and you’ll fucking wish you hadn’t." 

-

Mitch seemed to derive some sick pleasure from watching her plead, his dark eyes fixed on the smooth curve of her lips as they formed each word, every inflection of her voice tinged with tremors of fear. He watched her squirm and plead, an eerily stoic smile curling further up into his cheeks and drawing the skin tight around his eyes so that they appeared beady and hawkish in the half-light. When her hips bucked upwards he could see the fear spark in her blue eyes, causing the fabric already slung down around the protrusion to bulge out further. His unsettling look of silent amusement was only broken when she promised to do as they asked, at which point he only just managed to stifle a laugh, reducing the outburst to a light scoff. 

"Oh, we know you will," There was no compromise in his voice, only a venomous hatred that became fully apparent when his hand shot out and clenched around her throat.

There were four pillows arranged at the head of the bed, propped up against the wooden headboard that was marked in places with what looked like shallow scratches, these blemishes scattered about in clusters of four or five lines in each spot. If Anya had any doubt of the older man's strength, these were quickly dispelled when Mitch lifted her off the bed and flung her back so that her red hair splayed out along the pillowcases, noting the way her breathing quickened as he crawled up the length of the bed and twisted his body around so that his back was pressed against the headboard. Her head was turned to face him with her arms jutting out behind her awkwardly, legs cocked up slightly towards her midsection.

Mitch lifted his arm and slung it around her shoulders, pulling her tight against his rotund stomach so that her head was laying against its curve, dimpling the threads of the dark gray tank top while she was forced to stare down at his crotch. The bulge of the thing she thought she had felt earlier was now unmistakable, curving away from his groin and curling over the top of his thigh, at least seven inches but difficult to tell from her angle. Mitch leaned to the side, opening a nightstand drawer by the bed and feeling around blindly, unseen objects clattering until Anya heard the sound of metal sliding around the other toys inside.

The way that Mitch pulled the hunting knife out of the drawer visibly unnerved the girl, let alone when it started to come toward her slowly. His fingers knotted into her hair to keep her from squirming, the point of the thing inching forward until it was right in front of her nose, her blue eyes glistening as she stared down at the dull sheen of the steel in the gloom. 

"That's right," Mitch's fingers clenched around the hilt, knuckles flaring and the skin drawing tight. "Get a good look at it. You're gonna be a good girl, aren't you?"

He turned the blade so that it was flat against Anya's cheek and gently slapped the steel against her skin several times. Her mind recoiled in horror from the gleam that ran along its edge, barely noticing the thumb of Mitch's other hand hooking into the waist of his sweatpants and tugging them down, the cotton material forming a vertex around his digit. The older man grunted with effort, shifting from side to side to allow them to shimmy down, his member causing the fabric to hang for a moment before pulling free. Anya felt her heart race, breathing through her nose in short bursts, lips screwing up in disgust but unable to look away.

It was clearly the first time she had seen it in person, a veined slab of flesh extending outward from his fatty crotch and swelling to the point where she could see it twitching. His overweight body had clearly donated some of its excess weight to padding that revolting appendage between his legs, the foreskin already having pulled back to form a tight band around the head, which was oozing dollops of some clear fluid that made Anya sick as she watched it roll down the curve of the bell. The older man took his time guiding her panting face down to the muscle curving up toward her mouth, absentmindedly hearing Keith talk to their employer about the next steps of the plan, all while Mitch was about to educate Anya as to her place in the world and give the girl a glimpse of her future. "Yeah, open your fucking mouth."

-

There was an unspoken rule when it came to getting married that Mitch had learned early on, that all the simple pleasures went right out of the window after the honeymoon phase. The longer two people spent around each other, the more resentful their interactions became, a kind of bitter codependence. He and Amy had hardly slept in the same bed most nights since their last big fight and her pride wouldn't let her touch him, let alone get on her knees and give him the one thing that all men craved. It was Anya's abysmal luck that had made her a surrogate for his unfulfilled desires, something she could feel in the way that Mitch bucked his hips up towards her face as her lips suckled around the drooling head of his cock, her brow furrowing and lips screwing up around its girth. He set the knife on the surface of the nightstand, the hand that had been holding it overlaying the other that was already clamped down on her head. “Mmph! Nn…! Nn!”

"Mmn... good girl..." He sighed and used both of his hands to sweep the loose locks of her hair into a ponytail, gripping its base in one curled fist and using it to tug her up a couple of inches before forcing her lips to spread around the domed head again and again, its musk filling her senses. "Better get used to that taste. You're gonna be doing this a lot."

Mitch could see her elbows mashed together painfully and her hands twisting reflexively against the restraints. While her comfort was the least of his concerns, he had to admit that the chances of her gaining the upper hand were a thousand-to-one, the front door triple-bolted and Keith pacing the living room like some tightly wound watchdog. His right hand reached for the knife once more, feeling Anya tense up at the sound of its edge scraping the surface as it left it, her head trembling and bobbing dutifully in a panic. Mitch twisted to the side, his cock slipping further into her mouth and the plump dome at its tip wedging into the girl's throat when he did. His reach allowed him to grab one of her elbows, slipping the edge of the blade between her bound wrists with practiced efficiency, and pivoting the knife back while tugging it upwards until the bindings gave way. The ties on her feet he left alone for the moment. Her hands snapped forward from behind her back, instinctively gripping his swollen thighs as he clamped his hand down on her head once more, thick fingers splayed across her scalp. 

There was no resisting as he pushed her down, feeling her stomach tensing and knees trying to dig into the bed, Mitch pulling her hair back into a single fiery cord that he used to angle her head to the side enough to force his length into her throat. His cock throbbed and pulsed across her tongue as she felt the head push roughly into her throat, her gag response causing Mitch to chuckle as he set the knife back beside the bed, far enough out of reach that she wouldn't get any ideas. "Having trouble breathing, baby?" He held her there for a moment before jostling her head up and down cruelly, her blue eyes full of tears staring down the length of his cock, a wash of spit bubbling out from her spread lips. "Got something that might help with that."

There was an audible rush of air followed by the sound of her retching when he slid his cock out of her throat, his bicep curling behind her back and pinning her to his side while she gasped and watched him rummage through the contents of the drawer once more. After a minute of merciful reprieve from being his personal plaything, her eyes were drawn to the bright pink hue of what looked like a small egg pressed into his hand alongside an ovular remote that was connected to it by a wire. 

He gripped her upper arm and pulled her back into the burgundy mass of pillows, Mitch placing the device on his thigh before reaching down to deftly unbutton her jean shorts and slide her zipper down. His hand alone seemed to dwarf her petite physique, cramming the pink bullet down into the warm nook between her legs, her panties keeping it fitted firmly against her slit. He could feel her confusion when he zipped her back up, leaving the button undone as he wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock, causing the upper half to swell slightly before cramming it back into her mouth and unceremoniously into her throat so that her lips were touching his fingers. 

She could feel the wire trailing up her smooth skin twitch and shift as his right hand released his pulsing shaft to grip the remote, his thumb caressing the power button before he pressed it and lit every nerve ending inside her on fire. The seemingly harmless thing he had shoved into her shorts began vibrating, tucked up into her soft folds and mashed against the tiny nub of her clit. Her body convulsed and lips tightened in shock, the buzzing sound maddening in conjunction with the waves of unwanted pleasure that were only amplified by Mitch stretching her throat out to accommodate another two inches of his stinking cock, the scent suffocating as slimy trails of spit coursed down to his swollen balls, slipping into the smooth crease between them.

-

Mitch had enough experience to know that it would only take less than half a minute for her to start desperately fumbling for the waistband of her shorts, his arm tightening and bicep flexing against her back in an attempt to keep her body against him tightly enough to keep her from succeeding. As she whimpered and gasped, he snorted and laughed cruelly at the way her body writhed against him, the harsh sound turned into a series of satisfied groans at the feeling of her throat clenching around him. Her back arched and her pert ass pushed away from him enough to wedge her arms into the gap, her tormentor waiting just long enough to let her fingers start to wriggle underneath the dense fabric before he intervened.

He released his hold on her head, both of his hands latching onto her thin upper arms and pulling them upwards, Anya twitching spastically and her lips pulled back up the length of that drenched muscle a few inches. Her forearms now in his reach, he crossed them behind her, wrists laying over each other and promptly secured by his hand pressing them against the small of her back. Mitch could feel her panicked despair in the high-pitched gasps and whines as she neared the brink of her first helpless orgasm, one that would fade into a distant memory after a few months of this nightmare and the humiliating gauntlet of the hundreds she had yet to suffer. One of her desperate moans sent bubbles and strands of spit shooting down the length of his cock, her mouth sleekly gliding down to the base once more when he put his full force on the top of her head, throat squelching and lips buried in the wiry patch of dark pubic hair.

"Better get used to that, too," Mitch spoke in deep tones that lanced through the fog of euphoria that was beginning to seep into every corner of Anya's mind. "Feels a little too good, doesn’t it?"

Mitch reached over to the remote, pressing the SPEED button a couple of times until it maxed out. She shook her head and bucked wildly, staring at his thigh wide-eyed while the older man managed to maintain control over her body with little effort, Anya’s eyelids fluttering and twitching. The room was filled with the muffled, wet noises of her moaning and sobbing around his cock, the occasional whimper giving way to a frustrated scream as she felt utterly powerless in his grip. "You like that, huh, bitch?" He grunted. "Don’t worry. We're just getting started."

The hand not pinning her wrists once more collected her silky locks, this time wrapping the ponytail around his fist so that he was in complete control of her head. He groaned and leaned back against the headboard, a light thump barely audible through the cacophony of suffering erupting from Anya's stuffed throat and the whirring buzz of the toy, before he started to really use her. She could barely get a breath, her teeth lightly scraping against the engorged muscle while it slammed into her throat over and over, her saliva sloshing around the domed head each time it was crammed back inside. It was only when Mitch started to groan that there appeared to be any end in sight.

"Mmn! Nnh!" He moaned through clenched teeth, willing the pleasure to last just a few moments longer, Anya able to see his balls twitching and tightening. After a few more quick thrusts that stretched her throat painfully, Mitch forced her down so hard that her nose wedged firmly against his thigh. Her eyes went wide. "UNNH!" 

She could feel the entire length swell until it was pushing out against the walls of her throat, the bulbous tip flaring slightly inside of her as her eyes darted around in confusion. Her body clenched and spasmed as a dense spurt of some slimy discharge pumped into her with such force that it splattered and clung to the inside of her throat before sliding down into her stomach. Thick ropes of his stinking spunk surged into her one after another, Anya’s fingers clawing and slapping at his thighs, throat clenching and milking him. Tears rolled down her cheeks, their pale contours puffing out when she coughed and gagged, her eyes stinging slits as she winced and swallowed. A whimper trembled out of her throat. “Nnn! Nn… nn… nn…”

"Ooh... unh, that’s a good girl..." Anya closed her eyes, face turning a deep red. His cock started to soften between her lips, drooling and oozing while he continued to hold her down, releasing his grip on her wrists to stroke the soft curve of her back. "Mmn, yeah, I could get used to that."

-

Mitch stared down at her in a satisfied daze while she thrashed and trembled in a way that he had seen far too often and yet, even after all these years, not enough. Her pathetic mewling around his half-hard length, her lips slobbering while she relented and begged for mercy, was enough to send another hot pulse of desire through his body and down into his groin. He released his hold on the top of her head, Anya flinging her body back away from his and a spluttering mess of fluids cascading from between her lips, her body folding as she looked down at her damp shorts with frantic eyes before sliding her fingers into them. Her tormentor allowed this with a look of amusement, her hands shaking and the motion carrying through into her arms and thighs while she stammered and gasped, half-delirious. While her hatred for him was undeniable at this point, he could see that her priority was getting that thing away from her. Her hips bucked up and out, trying to create a pocket for her fingers to grip the whirring toy.

His bulk rolled to the side suddenly so that he was on his knees in front of her, watching her eyes go wide and her head shake as he curled his fingers to slide them up under her, hooking the digits into the back of her shorts and tugging them upwards so that her legs were forced to straighten out. The material slid up her thighs with some effort, her knees together and her ankles resting against the left side of his collar, her last line of defense against his corruption of her dignity slipping up around her knees and then her calf muscles before getting hooked on the ties securing her ankles. Her bright pink underwear had been turned a darker shade around the lines where the fabric was creased by the soaking wet cleft underneath. Her fingers stretched the material as she plucked the humming bullet out of, giving Mitch the time he needed to reach over and grab the knife, gripping her ankle so that he could cut the ties loose. There seemed to dawn a horrible realization in Anya's eyes at the sound of the bindings breaking, followed by more tears when he wrenched her shorts off and tossed them over the side of the bed. She naturally tried to push her body back up the bed before twisting to one side, Mitch grabbing her shoulder and throwing her onto her back so hard that it seemed to shock her into compliance. 

"You didn't think we were done, did you?" His body hunched over her, casting a deep shadow over her meager frame while he tugged one side of her panties away from her hip, working the edge of the blade under the cotton material and slicing it through it in one deft motion. There were conflicting emotions that played across her face, tears welling in her eyes and her cheeks blushing a bright red that was only made more apparent by her pale complexion, drowning her freckles in the hue. Mitch could clearly see in her vulnerable expression that this was the first time a man had seen her naked, let alone have a front row seat to the part of her body that she was most embarrassed by.

There was something in how exposed she was, her thighs and waist a milky color while her stomach and chest were covered by a white tee, that already had Mitch ready for round two. He could feel her body tense when he fell forward, his gut lurching down to press against her slender stomach and effectively pin her to the bed, those massive forearms pressing into the pillow on either side of her head as his face filled her vision. His leering look of playful cruelty had been replaced by another, one of lustful self-indulgence that spoke volumes about his selfish nature, that in spite of the fact she had completely satisfied him it still wasn't enough. Never would be enough. 

His cock flopped into the warm valley above her glistening cleft, already thickening and growing in length as Anya measured it by touch, able to tell even before it was inside her just how deep she'd be able to feel him. The head began to widen and bloat, her eyes roaming down her body to see a line of clear pre-cum dribble out and roll down to the skin just below her belly button. He breathed into her face, prompting the girl to recoil slightly and turn her nose up, eyes squinting hatefully and cutting away from him. Mitch seemed to savor her contempt for a brief moment before his face lunged forward, lips screwing up against hers and forcing them to part with the force of his kiss, drooling and grunting into her mouth while his hips slid back enough to let his cock slide down. 

The head pressed into her folds, teasing them by spreading the silky petals of her sex just enough to let her feel the horrible anticipation, Mitch pulling away with strands of spit stretching between their lips as he looked into her shining eyes, still full of hate. "Yeah, you just love me, don't you?" He mocked, watching the girl grit her teeth and glare up at him, the slick bell of his head spreading her cunt lips wide, the girl gritting her teeth and her eyes widening in panic before rolling back as he slid inside her for the first time. Her walls pulsed, stretching around the sudden intrusion, kneading him with every inch he pushed into the slick canal.

-

Any other man would have felt a pang of guilt at the way Anya fought him relentlessly, the way her body had been made for a single purpose while he had molded his with the sole intention of seeing that purpose fulfilled against her will, her thighs spreading and tightening to batter his thighs with her ankles. But Mitch was hardly human at all, and certainly not a man but more an amalgam of rejection and sexual frustration that he sought any reprieve from, even in the suffering of a girl who had done nothing to deserve his malice. Anya could have been any girl who was unlucky enough to be caught in the path that had been set before him, what some men might refer to as chance and others might consider fate. Whichever it was, it had delivered Anya Surikov to this cruel purgatory.

Her fists beat pathetically against his shoulders while he parted the clenched muscles inside her, the undulating tunnel slick and sucking him into the spiraling, sensitive rings of flesh that she would come to hate just as much as the men who would make her agony their daily entertainment. There was no mercy in his eyes as she pleaded and tried to reason with him, his face tilting up toward the headboard so that she was staring at the fatty curve of his neck and jaw, beads of sweat forming on both and dripping onto her face. His lips pursed, a guttural moan accompanying the feeling of the plush head being held back by a tightening ring of flesh some six inches into her, its contractions ringing the slit at the center of his throbbing tip and coaxing a warm river of pre-cum deeper into her. 

"Oh, fuck, you're tight," His hips rocked back so that her walls slid back together as his cock withdrew several inches, Mitch shifting his thighs forward to press against the back of her own and forcing her to cock her legs up so that her ankles were hanging by his sides. He pulled his arms away from where they had been framing her face, tucking them under her knees and forcing her legs back further, her body folded as he pushed forward to angle his cock down into that puffy gash. His full weight pressed down on her smooth mound, the pressure causing the veined column to slam into her so hard that she squealed, Mitch grunting as he felt her insides stretch and spasm around that painfully large insertion. Her teeth clenched and her eyes shut against the pain, tears rolling down the side of her face when he started to pack the last few inches into her with short jolts of his hips, driving the invading muscle deeper until it had bottomed out inside her with only a half of an inch between her gash and his crotch. Her lips quivered and her face screwed up at the sensation of this man she loathed with all her being filling every inch of her pussy, his hateful lust not feeling a single pang of guilt for her pain as he stared down into her face, sweat drenching his brow and gelled hair. "Look up here, you little cunt."

When her eyes didn't open immediately, he cocked his hand around with his elbow still holding her knee back, smacking her with his open palm hard enough to get her attention. Instead of following through, he clenched her pale cheeks between his fingers and squeezed until her lips pursed into a tight ring, leaning forward so that his face was positioned directly above hers and letting a salvo of spit fall in a rapid succession of bitter droplets into her mouth. "We fucking own you, rich girl," He let the words sink in while her lips formed a look of disgust at the taste of his spit on her tongue, his balls mashed up against her ass cheeks and his hips rolling forward so that they swelled, the girl feeling the heat rolling off of them. 

There was only a brief moment to adapt to her newfound fullness before Mitch slid all the way back out, until his head was dripping with her cunt juice and the strands were curling over her folds, before pounding back into her with such ruthless force and speed that her back arched, chest jerked up off the bed. Her neck tensed and mouth quivered in shock as he felt her pussy grip him in spite of herself, the waves of pleasure coalescing as he repeated the motion several dozen times at a furious pace, each one causing her body to twist and shudder. His balls flopped wetly against her ass while his cock slopped into her wildly, strings of her juices flying in wild strands out of her sopping wet slit. All the while, Mitch stared down into her face with an arrogant satisfaction, watching her lose her mind while he raped her mercilessly.

-

Mitch humped her even harder when she began to beg, his bulky body causing her own to lurch forward every time his cock rushed forward into the warm, tender sleeve of her cunt that felt like it had been made solely for his pleasure. His thumbs pressed into her back while his fingers curled around her waist, tucked into the fold where her upper thigh met her hip, pulling her to him with each savage thrust. No man had any right to have as much endurance as he did, a realization not at all lost on Anya as he used her inexperienced body like she was some cheap whore. When that last scream erupted from deep inside her, Mitch lodged his bloated cock into the slick, plush depths of her teen cunt. 

The slippery folds tightened around him, her insides a mess of fluids that seemed to churn around his swollen head, the steady rhythm of each contraction nearly pulling him over the edge. One of his hands pressed down on the small of her back, watching her shoulders curve upward slightly while she moaned against her will, a helpless relinquishment of her mind to the waves of cruel pleasure. Sweat had started to cause her red locks to shimmer, even in the deepening shadows of the room as the last light of the day was beginning to fade, the strands swaying a little as she shook her head and tried to find the breath to beg for him to stop. Mitch reached forward and dug his fingers into her hair, his belly fitting into the curve of her back when he leaned forward and pulled her head back, his stinking breath blowing into her face from the side while her eyes cut over to him without a shred of hope in them, Anya delirious and nearly at the point of passing out from exhaustion. 

"Yeah, more. You think this is gonna end when I'm done with you?" Mitch tugged her head back sharply, jostling it with the force and hearing a suppressed but audible whine. "Oh, no. We’re gonna use you, Anya, over and over and over again.”

Her head was still shaking in the aftermath of the mind-shattering orgasm that had just ripped through her body, her tormentor's face leaning towards hers and his tongue sliding out of his full lips to roll up the side of her cheek, his saliva clinging to her skin as it ran flatly up one side of her freckled face. He could feel the tension as her head tried to twist away from the repulsive sensation only for him to angle it toward him even more, his other hand gripping the curve of her chin and turning her face toward his before cruelly kissing her, lips sloppily sliding over hers and his tongue snaking into her mouth as his hips started to buck against her ass once more. "Mmn... mhm..." He moaned into her mouth, a river of his drool cresting over her tongue while a thin stream of it slipped out of the corner of her mouth and ran down to the soft curve of her jawline.

The older man pulled away with a wet pop and focused fully on inflicting as much pain on her young, tender cunt as he could with a barrage of thrusts that had her little ass cheeks clapping against his crotch every time the bulbous head smashed up against her cervix. His balls hung lower after pumping his load down her throat, swinging up with each pistoning motion to slap the soft skin above her aching gash. "Ungh..." Mitch could feel Anya's body tense up at the familiar sound of his mounting pleasure, the telltale lilt of his voice the only warning that he was about to do something unforgivable, about to cross a line that could potentially ruin her life forever. He began to grunt as he fell forward, his pecs pressing down on her back while she was trapped in a cocoon of his tensing muscles, the only part of her visible beneath his suffocating bulk being her pale feet jutting out behind him and twitching at each unwanted intrusion of her sex. His hand was still knotted into her hair in spite of the fact that he had her body pinned beneath his, still wanting her to feel his control over her as sickening words began to ooze into her ear. "Nngh, oh yeah, here it comes..."

-

Mitch grinned down at her back as it flexed and thrashed, seeming as if it were trying to escape him and embrace the feeling of him inside her simultaneously, when suddenly her voice peaked in a shrill screech that was laced with desperate sobs of the cruelest ecstasy. They tore out of her throat, Anya bawling and her voice trembling around each jolt of white hot pleasure that shot through her body in a flash of heat, Mitch speeding up so that her hiccupping sobs were broken by a series of wet, choking gasps as she tried to reconcile the fact that she was fucking (no, no, oh my god, NO!) cumming. A furious scream ripped out of her at the undeniable fact that this bastard who had used her in every way that a girl feared from the time she knew enough to be afraid had conquered her body and it would only be a matter of time before her mind and soul belonged to him. She moaned in spite of herself and Mitch knew, in the infinite satisfaction of that moment, that he couldn't hold back any longer.

The last few thrusts were a blur, Mitch's teeth gritting and bursts of hot air hissing through them as his breaths became shorter. "Oh! Unh!" The fleshy bell at the head of his cock swelled as it slammed into her one last time, his eyes rolling back while his hips bucked against her ass, driving her forward a few inches when he tried to burrow deeper inside her. It was the first time Anya had felt the sensation that would soon become the focus of her existence and it was one that she would grow to loathe, if only because her body and mind seemed designed to love it, regardless of how much she hated him in that moment. 

Mitch's throbbing length seemed to swell within the spiraling rings of muscle, his mouth going slack when the first creamy spurt shot into her. His balls spasmed, ropes of dense slime pumping into her and dousing her tender folds while he held her tight against his body. She jerked and squirmed at the way it gushed into her, gobs of his thick seed welling up from the tip before being forced out by another spurt, now swimming back down the length of his cock and seeping out of her, trailing down the insides of her thighs in slow rivulets. "Nngh! Ooh..." There were no words to describe the shame of those twenty seconds that felt like they stretched into minutes, his moans tapering off as he fell forward and lay sprawled across her panting body, flattening her against the deep red of the sheets and smothering her in the rank cage of his body while the last of his seed oozed into her in slow dollops. 

"Mmn... ungh…" He murmured while she shook her head and stared through bleary eyes at the scratches in the headboard, feeling him start to go soft inside her, his cock finally sliding out of her with a slick squelch, its meaty length flopping between his legs, twitching head dangling just above the sheets. Her pussy lips were swollen from his tireless abuse and her ravaged cunt was now stretched wide, a gaping slot that kept clenching and incrementally tightening but not before a milky river of his partially congealed cum poured out of her and dripped shakily to the bed to pool between her thighs and slowly soak into the sheets. There was a terrible silence filled only by the sounds of him panting while he watched it drain out of her, broken suddenly by the sound of him grunting with a satisfaction that made Anya sick to her stomach. His fingers reached forward to pull one side of her gash wide, the girl hanging her head and wincing at the sensation of the slime oozing out of her. His hand swatted down on her ass and caused what little fat was there to ripple, the sting of his open palm starting to leave a red print on her pale skin, though the pain was nothing compared to her wounded pride that she felt would never heal.

He ignored her pleas as he moved forward on his knees to the side of the bed on which the nightstand sat, not bothering to hold her down where she was breathing into the pillow but knowing that even if she managed to get up and run, she wouldn't make it a few steps without reeling from the shockwaves still radiating through her body. He pulled the drawer open and pulled out the object that would forever signify her place in this dark corner of the underworld, this apartment that was now her personal prison and seemingly eternal purgatory. 

The dog collar was a light pink with tiny crystals encircling it, the kind of thing that a girl of her upbringing might have put on a future pet, had that future not been robbed from her. He climbed back onto the bed and brought his legs up on either side of her, hunkering down to slip the thing around her neck and pull it snug before tucking the metal hook into the appropriate notch. A tiny lock was fitted into the clasp, already undone and just waiting to be secured the moment it was around her neck, Mitch doing so with a contented sigh before leaning over to grab its obvious companion. The leash was of a matching color, the clasp that clicked in around the metal ring at the front of the collar having a combination lock, one that she was sure she would never have the time to figure out as he attached it. 

He moved off of the bed and tugged her along with him, the strength of that pull giving her two options, either to give in and debase herself by following him or have him drag her choking into the living room. When she started to follow, he gripped her shoulder and forced her to crawl into the floor by the bed. "On your hands and knees, bitch," He lifted his foot and pushed down on the back of her neck, pressing her cheek against the hardwood floor with her ass raised in the air, the handprint now more visible. When he removed his foot from her neck she remained at his feet. "Good girl. Come on."

-

Mitch was hardly surprised at her feeble resistance, having spent over a decade doing this kind of work and far longer than that refining his abusive tactics, most women learning early on that nothing they could do would satisfy him. Most of the girls unfortunate enough to come into contact with him, especially those who were forced to rely on him to support their livelihood, could testify to the unfathomable depths of his cruelty. He had grown to relish the resentment. Crave it, almost. As a man who most women would hardly be bothered to notice, let alone come to love, their hate was what sustained him. He fed on it and a girl like Anya could potentially sustain him indefinitely.

He was just tugging the sweats back up to his waist when she hissed at him from behind, her words laced with pure venom and her tone low, prompting him to turn back toward her with a strange sort of stare. His lips were curled back as if about to dimple his cheeks with that soulless smile he had been giving her all evening, deep shadows cast over his eyes as the wan light that emanated from the other side of the bar which separated the kitchen from the living area backlit his grotesque anatomy, fist tightening on his end of the leash. "Keep it up, you little cunt," He spoke in seething tones, an undercurrent of anger building beneath that psychotic calm he had exhibited throughout his brutal handling of her. "You think it can't get worse? It can always get worse.”

She continued to glare up at him, holding his stare in the way that Amy did sometimes. Anya's eyes were cold and unflinching and in them he could see that she would probably kill him given half the chance, and at the very least ensure that he would waste away in prison for the rest of his life. The thought alone was enough for a reckoning and even if she did make it out of here by some chance, whether through her father's actions or her own, he was going to make sure that she never looked at him that way again. Standing some five feet away with the leash stretched between her neck and his fist, he ran his fingers through his shining locks still damp with sweat, eyebrows raising slightly as she continued to hold his gaze.

His fist pulled back and up, yanking Anya toward him violently so that her knees skidded across the glossy hardwood before her hands shot out from underneath her, her body twisting to the side and shoulder slamming into the floor before the force of the unrelenting motion flipped her onto her back. Mitch dragged her through the apartment to the kitchen, her hands fumbling behind her for the woven cord to take the tension off of her neck, the leash slacking for a moment as her obese captor pulled the refrigerator door open and reached in to grab a beer. The contents of the fridge door rattled as he slammed it, popping the cap off using the countertop before dragging her back to the living area while she choked through gritted teeth. 

He maneuvered her around the couch, Anya feeling the softer material of the rectangular carpet that lay in front of it slide under her back, Mitch sitting down on the far right side and winding the leash around his fist enough times that she was forced between his knees. He tipped the bottle back and took a few swallows, casually pressing one of his knees between her shoulder blades and pulling back firmly on the leash, her throat clicking and hitching as she tried to get a breath. After another sip of the beer, he sat it on a cheap coaster on the wooden end table, grabbing the TV remote and hitting the power button while he put more tension on her neck.

-

"Yeah, ain't got too much to say now, do you?" Mitch held her there for another few moments, feeling her trying to twist around and the curve of her back lightly pivoting against his knee. From his position above her on the couch, with her neck angled back so he could see her darkening cheeks, his glowering eyes roamed down the length of her body. His eyes fixated on the soft mound between her thighs, a trail of creamy white staining the mottled gray pattern of the rug when he slid his knee from between her shoulder blades, dragging her lithe body up between his legs and into his lap. Mitch's arm wrapped around her midsection and forced her to grind down into his lap while he pulled her head back to rest on his chest, his other hand feeling the sticky heat emanating from the gap in her thighs, pushed together as if that would stop him from degrading her further. 

There was no warning as he jammed two of his fingers into her abused cunt, feeling the plush walls spread around him and her body tense, the load he'd pumped into her collecting on his fingertips. He could feel her trying to ignore the sensation, could practically see her mouth screwed up and her eyes staring angrily ahead at the TV. Mitch angled his thumb up against the pink button of her clit, rolling it around and mashing it with practiced precision. His breath rolled across her neck and blew the red wisps of hair against the side of her neck, the glare of the TV basking them in a sickly glow that lined every contour of their bodies in a stark white. Mitch's fingers plunged into her in a slow rhythm, spreading them wide each time he felt her slick lips suckling against his knuckles, swirling them around inside her. He started to breathe more depraved words into her ear when he stopped suddenly, staring over her shoulder at the TV screen.

There she was. It was a pair of old photographs that were probably from some time in the last few years, one of her at home that looked as if someone had taken it on a whim, and the other a school portrait with her hair perfectly arranged and her face practically glowing. His fingers suddenly stopped moving and slid out of her, fingers sticky with her juices as he reached over and turned the volume up on the previously muted TV. "...victim has been identified as eighteen-year-old Anya Surikov, a student of Park East High School, last seen wearing a black shirt, denim shorts, and white tennis shoes. Anyone with information is encouraged to call the number below." It took less than a few seconds for the blond newscaster to move on to the next headline but Mitch sat there contemplating the possibilities for half a minute longer, eyes narrowing and jaw clenching as what had been little more than a game an hour ago suddenly became very real.