Chapter 33 Winnie
WINNIE
“It seems our evening plans have changed.” His voice echoes through the luxury penthouse as I drunkenly race through the massive rooms to the door.
Should I try to find a weapon?
Should I look for a phone?
I drank too much wine; that’s what it is. I can’t think clearly.
Fitz is my stalker.
That can’t be right.
God, I have the worst taste in men!
I don’t hear his footsteps, don’t see him behind me as I stumble through the dimly lit penthouse.
I thought the door was just around this—
I scream as as a deep voice says, “Found you.”
I turn to run back the way I came.
Fitz just laughs. He grabs me by the front bodice of my dress and throws me against the wall. My heart thumps in my chest.
“Did you drug me?” I try to stay still. Struggle just seems to excite him.
“I don’t want to have sex with a doll. I want you screaming and writhing in pleasure, of course.”
“You're sick.”
“No, I actually got tested recently. My insurance requires it. Come on, Creampuff. You like this. You liked it when I bent you over and fucked you like a little sex toy. Speaking of…” He laughs against my neck.
“Your pussy can't help it. You’re addicted to me.” He trails a finger down my collarbone to the rise of my breasts, mashed in the bodice.
“Tell me you don’t want it. I can fuck you just like you like it. Rough. I’ll even wear the mask.”
I’m in crisis because the thought of that, getting to repeat my biggest sexual fantasy I didn’t know I had, is making me salivate, making me wet, making me ache.
“Let’s see.” He pushes my dress up, the fabric pulling at me.
He fights against me as I try to keep the hem pushed down.
I whimper as he grabs my wrist, pinning it against the wall. His knee knocks my thighs apart.
“How sticky is my little Creampuff?”
I squirm as his fingers pry my pussy open, stroking me like he owns me.
“I knew it.” His fingers rub me again.
I moan against his shoulder as he thrusts three fingers into me. “You’re getting off on this, me treating you like you’re just a sex toy.”
“That's not…” I protest, mainly more to myself. “I mean, I’m not that much of a slut, am I? I’m the responsible sister, not the one who has sex with her stalker. I should really go. I can’t… this isn’t—” I push his hands away.
“Then go.”
He watches me like a predator as I take two steps to the side and then rush to the door. He’s on me in half a second.
“Goddamn, I love it when you run.” He catches me around the waist and kisses me. He’s blocking my way, so I turn down another corridor. He grabs me, pulling my top down.
I grip the doorframe as he sucks on my nipple, his teeth making me curse, then he releases me, starting the chase over again.
I’m out of breath in the dark hallway.
I stumble and fall.
He’s on me, large hand in my hair, slapping my ass laughing as I try to kick at him.
I half expect him to fuck me right there on the floor. But he lets me up.
It’s futile to run, but I still struggle to my feet, hand braced on the textured wallpaper. The sconces flicker as I try to dodge him.
I realize that it’s not just a random chase; he’s herding me, like Fidget did that one time I took her to a sheep-herding class, driving me deeper into the depths of the penthouse. There aren’t any windows here, only a few sconces on the wall, casting light on the dark wallpaper.
I’m at a dead end.
I can barely breathe. I’m so freaked out. “You can’t…”
“What? Cant be attracted to you? Can’t be obsessed with you every waking moment? Can’t stand outside of your house in the dark?”
He hums.
“You’re a greedy little slut. I sprayed you all over with my cum, made you lick it up. And that makes you my dirty little cum slut.” He has me pressed against the wall, then he grabs my wrists and pins them above my head.
“Admit it,” he hisses as he bites my bottom lip. “You were disappointed when you thought I was just going to let you bounce on top of my dick in my study like some cliché. The thought of it bored you.”
“Maybe,” I admit as his knee pushes between my legs. “But I didn’t want this.”
“Of course you do. You want to be on your knees for me, taking my dick in every hole.”
“I made a bad decision.”
“I’m gonna help you make another one.”
Then I’m falling backward as the wall behind me gives way. I scream as I fall into a dark room, darker than the hallway. I fight against him as he half drags me forward across a soft surface. Then I feel something metallic click around my ankle.
“Shit,” I whimper, trying to crawl forward.
His hand comes down on the flat of my ass. I’m stopped when my legs don’t move; they’re stuck, locked in place. My knees are spread wide, the dress riding up as my legs splay open. The other cuff locks in place.
My eyes adjust to the dim red light. I turn to see him behind me, picking something off a shelf. He’s a shadow in the dark.
He puts the black mask on, and my body is like, Welcome home, daddy—which again, considering I’m tied up in this guy’s sex dungeon, really says certain things about me.
Sex dungeon.
Yeah, like the whole Fifty Shades cliché, with sex toys on shelves and little strappy things and a circular bed on one end.
“I admit I might have a shopping addiction.” The deep voice says with chuckle.
“You’re sexier when you’re silent.”
He laughs and puts the mask back down. “That can be arranged.”
Something metallic glints in his hand. “Shit, a knife.” I struggle, trying to reach behind me to loosen the straps. The way my legs are spread, I’m off-balance. I fall forward; he catches the back of the dress, then the knife slides along the seam. The dress falls to the ground. He kicks it away.
His gloved hands cup my breasts, hanging heavy under me for a brief moment, then he’s walking behind me.
I barely register the sound of a zipper, then he thrusts deep into my pussy once, twice. I gasp, jerking away from him. He doesn’t even have to grab my hips. I’m spread so wide-open for him.
He grabs my hair, pulls out, and slams into me again so hard I almost black out.
“Fuck,” I whimper as my pussy flexes around that rock-hard cock. I have not done enough yoga to be able to keep my arms from shaking as he pulls out of me again. His gloved hands tangle back in my hair.
“Please,” I whimper.
He doesn’t say a word.
“God, say something. You never shut up earlier.”
He grabs my jaw with his other hand, forces my mouth open, then I have a mouthful of cock. I taste my pussy juices on him as he fucks my mouth. My nose bangs against the hard V of muscle above the base of his cock, his balls against my chin every time he thrusts into me.
He releases me, and I lie there gasping, resting on my elbows. I watch him in the mirror on one wall.
“You liked this the last time.” The deep voice is muffled under the mask.
It makes me shiver. My pussy can’t wait for his cock again.
“Tell me. You liked it.”
I can’t talk, can only try to breathe.
“I’d call you a good girl,” he says from where he’s selecting something off the shelf, “but good girls don’t take cock like that.”
The voice is rough as I feel something hard and plastic slide into my pussy. I groan as I take it in, panting when it turns on, vibrating inside of me.
“Yeah, your pussy remembers this one.”
“Shit, can’t you just fuck me like a normal person?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, I hear a metal cap ping softly on the floor. Then warm oil dribbles down my ass.
“Um…” It comes out as a moan as the sex toy inside me starts pulsing. Then I feel his gloved fingers on my slicked-up ass.
“Ohh, I can’t!” I pant.
Another finger slides in. The toy slides deeper into my pussy. There’s a second nub on it right against my clit.
“No, you want this.” He crooks his fingers. “Tell me you want this, or I’ll leave you like this for hours.”
My hips roll, trying to get enough friction on the sex toy to make myself come. My clit aches.
“Please, daddy, please,” I moan. “Daddy, I want your cum in me. I’ll be your good little cum slut. Just please make me come.”
His fingers pull out.
I see him watch me in the mirror. I usually don’t like to look at myself, but now I see what he sees. I look like a porn princess, on my hands and knees, my hips rocking as the shadows play off my curves.
I moan and suck on my fingers then reach down between my legs. His gloved hand comes down hard on my ass, making me jump.
“I don’t like it when people touch what’s mine. And your pussy is mine, so”—he taps my nose—“don’t touch.”
Then I feel it—not his cock—another vibrating, pulsing dildo. He grinds one dildo on my clit, and I’m gasping and moaning as my ass takes the other one. I’m so full. Both the dildos are inside of me.
“You don’t want to fuck me?” I whimper as I feel like I’m on the edge of coming.
He grabs my hair, pulls me so I’m resting on my knees, and a collar with two chains tightens around my neck. The metal is cold as it drapes down my breasts. Every time I shift, I whimper as the dildos pulse deep inside me, making me crave his cock.
His large hands grab my tits, then something cold pinches them and tightens as he fastened the metal clamps on my hard nipples.
Eyes closed, my mouth open, head tipped back, just the feel of those metal clamps on my nipples is enough to send me crashing over the edge, and I come. I’m ready to come again as he tugs on the chain, pulling up my tits, yanking me forward.
He peels up part of the mask, then he’s kissing me, his tongue crowding mine in my mouth. More oil dribbles down my neck to pool between my breasts. Then his huge, thick cock is there between my breasts as he fucks my tits, squeezing them around his dick as I clutch at his wrists.
The pink dildo rubs against my clit as he bounces me up and down. I’m staring up at the black shadow of a face. The chain connecting the clamp on my tits is everything I ever needed when I tried to get myself off at home. I’ll never be able to go back to that. And he barely even fucked me.
“You want my cum?”
“Yeah, daddy, please,” I whine. I’ll say anything to get him to fuck me. Demean myself in all the worst ways. “Please, daddy, give me your cum.”
“You first.”
The head of his cock hits my chin as he thrusts against me. His balls smack against my chest. I concentrate on imagining his cock inside me as he’s fucking my tits. I jerk my hips against the pink dildo, and then I’m coming, whimpering.
It’s not enough. My panting is enough for him, though. He comes all over my face and tits with a grunt.
“Lick it off,” he tells me as my tongue darts out while I’m still looking up at him. I rub my hands in the mess of cum all over my tits, trying not to catch the metal chain because I already want him again.
“Mm, your cum tastes so good.” I lick my hand. “Like Swiss buttercream.”
“Fuck.” His cock twitches hard against the black canvas of his pants. He palms himself as he watches me lick my fingers clean. I swipe my hand in what’s left of the cum on my tits then slowly trail it down to my pussy.
“It’s going to be even better here.”
“I told you.” He slaps my tits. “Don’t touch what’s mine.”
“Then show me it’s yours.”
A condom packet rips. The weight of him flattens me forward.
“Finally.” The pink dildo pulling out almost makes me come right then and there. His cock feels even better—this is what I’ve been needing, a cock fucking me, jackhammering into me.
The dildo in my ass still pulses, and I can’t keep myself from coming on him. He doesn’t slow down, just lets out a harsh breath in my ear. Then he’s rutting into me.
Is it love or obsession? Why can’t it just be sex?
He lifts my hips to fuck deep into me, come in me, come in me. I’m moaning like I have nasty sex with guys I barely know all the time. The zipper of his pants scrapes the back of my ass as he hammers me, then I feel him seize up.
I can’t hold on. My pussy clenches, then I’m coming on his cock while he’s exploding into the condom.
“God,” I curse, crawling forward when he pulls out, then almost come again when he pulls the other dildo out and tosses it aside. I barely register it when he unfastens the ankle cuffs.
Fitz’s blond hair is sweaty and messy when he pulls off the mask. “You’re such a good fuck.” He picks me up, wraps my legs around his waist, and kisses me as he carries me to the round bed in the room.
“So, do you bring a lot of women in here?”
“Of course not.” He idly twists the clamp on my nipple, sending little shocks of pleasure right down to my toes. “No one likes a sex dungeon. That’s gross. I like to carefully and slowly unbox my new purchases.”
He trails his fingers over me. The postsex haze is like floating on a cloud, a cloud made of sex.
“Glad to know the threats weren’t real.” I laugh, relieved.
“Creampuff.” He frowns down at me.
“So, tell me how you did it.” I slap at his chest.
“Did what?”
“Switched your clothes so fast last night when you were in my laundry-slash-bedroom.”
“I told you,” he says slowly. “I saved you from a stranger. I didn’t change clothes. You didn’t see me leave with a bag.”
“But the notes—you threatened to kill my dog.” The panic is back. “Please,” I beg him, “just tell me you’re lying.”
“I didn’t write those notes.” There’s something dark and scary on his face.
“What? Yeah, you did. You’re the stalker,” I shriek. “We just had stalker sex in your sex dungeon.”
“No.” He shakes his head, his sweaty hair falling on his forehead. “That wasn’t me.”
“Wait.” I try to drag myself off the bed, but he catches me before my legs can collapse and drags me back onto the bed. “I have another stalker? I have to go. Fidget’s in trouble!”