The Stalker
You put a spell on me - Austin Georgio
Ispy a Little Flower, all alone and ready to pluck. Time to stop and smell the dahlias. I lower the mask onto my face and pull the hood over my head, concealing my identity. I watch from afar, hidden behind a thick pillar.
She is grabbing grocery bags out of her trunk, thinking she’s in the clear to head up to her apartment. She’s unaware of the danger that lurks behind her. A pretty girl in a secluded, dark parking garage? The scenario couldn't be more ideal.
I make sure no sound emits from my heavy steps as I make my way from one pillar to the next.
She turns, paranoid, looking in my direction but seeing nothing, as if her peripherals are tricking to her.
Oh, my Little Flower, you're not delusional. I’m here.
Lurking. Watching. Stalking. Her movements quicken until the silence is broken by the sound of a pop and fizzle.
Clumsy, are we?
“Shit.” I can hear her say in the distance. A pack of sodas has fallen onto the hard concrete, the bubbly liquid making a mess around her feet. She lets out a sigh, bending over to pick up the remainder of the unharmed cans. I’m coming for you, my Little Flower.
I circle the pillar, making my presence known. I pause, watching her head turn and slowly rise, eyeing me as she meets my mask. Her eyes connect with mine, and I turn my head with an unsettling, sinister tilt.
She’s frozen like a deer in headlights, afraid and innocent. Still bent over, she notices the sharp blade in my grasp. I grip the handle tighter. I take a stride forward in her direction; her body betrays her, too frightened to move.
Dumb girl. Dumb, beautiful girl.
I take another stride forward… and another…
and another. She quickly straightens, turning and running to the driver’s side door, frantically trying to put the key in the lock.
Oops, someone wasn't fast enough. My hand reaches around her face, cupping her pretty mouth.
She screams into it as her hands claw at mine; her nails leaving behind stinging scratches.
My other hand whips around, pressing the blade gently to the skin of her neck. She's frozen. Paralyzed. Petrified.
I lower my face to her ear, caressing it with the hard plastic, and whisper, “You look so fucking pretty when you’re scared.” She begins to tremble, a wet stream of tears pooling over my knuckles as she faces her car.
“Don’t cry, baby. I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth. If you scream, you won't like what happens next. So be a good girl and bite that tongue.” My tone is demanding and controlling. I give her a few seconds to process, but my patience is nonexistent.
“Hmm?” I ask, as if she has a choice. She gives me a gentle nod, not daring to make any bold movements. I smear the collection of tears with my thumb before removing my hand, leaving a glistening trace of terror.
“Why are you doing this to me? What do you want? P-Please take all the money I have,” she cries out. Money? I want something more valuable than money. I want her fear. I want her submission. I want her. A sinister chuckle leaves my throat.
“Shh, I don't want any money, baby.” I press my body into hers, pinning her against the car, limiting her movement. The tip of the blade pricks her neck in the process. Red crimson taints her now-harmed flesh. She lets out a quiet whimper.
My eyes flutter, taking in the situation I have put this poor girl in.
I think I’m going to fucking explode in my jeans.
I rub my hardening length against her, letting her feel how turned on I am.
Fuck, I grind my hips once more, hoping it will help ease a little tension, but it’s only making it worse.
“P-Please, let me go. I don’t know what you want, but please.”
“P-P-Please,” I mock her. With my free hand, I began to lift the front of her skirt, each inch of movement feeling painfully slow. The temptation to just rip it off is eating me alive. Teasing is fun, remember Axel?
You’re going to enjoy what I’m going to do to you, my Little Flower.
Her whines quickly turn into defeated sobs. The shaking of her body is nearly audible. My fingertips trail her skin as I reach the apex of her thighs. So fucking soft and so fucking supple.
“I’m going to make you hate how much you love this,” I say in promise. I won’t let her forget who is in control and how easily I can make her do whatever the fuck I want. She is a lucky girl today. The monster in me so badly wants to take over, to consume her, but I also want her to enjoy it.
My knuckles tease her center before I roughly move her underwear out of the way, jerking her body at the contact, like a little rag doll. A small gasp escapes her.
“You don’t want to do this, please,” she says in one last attempt.
I roll my eyes; her pleas for me to stop make me want to take from her even more. She thinks her words have an effect on me, like they have any power, any influence. Pathetic little girl—you are prey, and your predator won’t stop until he gets what he wants.
My knee comes forward, kicking her legs apart, spreading them more. I want full access to what's mine. My middle finger dips into her, coating it in her wetness before bringing it upward toward her clit. She is so wet. So fucking wet. Making her enjoy this may be a little easier than I thought.
She gasps as I rub circles. Her knees buckle ever so slightly, and I start to rub faster. She closes her eyes, feeling embarrassed at the pleasure she’s enduring.
“Nuh-uh,” I say teasingly. “I want you to look at me while I make you come.”
Hesitantly, her eyes crack open, peering over her shoulder. My mask conceals all of my face other than my eyes. I like to have a clear view of what I’m doing. It’s also a plus for eye contact. I want to watch her fall apart, and I want her to watch me while she's doing it.
I add another finger, now dipping two inside her.
I curl them upward, finding her sweet spot.
She moans in approval as I move steadily in rhythm, like waves in an endless ocean.
Her gasps are getting sweeter and sweeter, sending sugar-coated jolts straight to my cock.
I press deeper into her, and she grinds into me, not letting up as she rides my fingers in harmony.
I bite my lip, my vocal cords gifting her a moan in return.
This girl is made for me.
“Are you going to come for me? Are you going to be a good girl and come on my fingers?” I ask, yearning in anticipation. Her walls clench around me, grasping onto them. She begins to close her eyes as she lets out an unapologetic moan.
“Open your fucking eyes and look at me,” I growl. And she does. She has no room for negotiation—only for obeying. Watching her orgasm consume her has my mouth falling open, feeling the lethal emotion beside her. I want to rip this fucking mask off and kiss those perfect parting lips.
“Such a dirty girl, coming on a stranger's fingers like a needy whore. Taste yourself,” I growl as I remove my fingers from her pussy, careful not to drop any remnants of her submission. She looks at me like I’m a sick, sadistic monster.
I smirk, pressing my fingers against her lips, waiting for her to open.
If she won't do it willingly, forcing her won’t be a problem.
I press harder. She winces, giving in and opening her mouth. My fingers dive deep into her warm mouth, making her gag. She closes around my fingers, giving a gentle suction. My imagination runs wild at what my cock would feel like in replacement.
Next time, Axel.
My fingers come out, making a popping sound in the quiet garage. Her tears had dried a while ago. Once I started pleasuring her, those tears disappeared pretty damn quickly. I expect them to return once I leave her to her own thoughts.
I want her to think about tonight. I want her to hate herself, thinking how she let a stranger finger-fuck her in her apartment parking garage. I want her to feel embarrassed that she fucking loved every second of it. I want her to wallow in it. And I want her to want it again.
“Until next time, Little Flower,” I say in promise. Her eyes widen, searching mine as recognition washes over. I push off of her, leaving her alone as I disappear into the night.