27. Delilah
DELILAH
Every intimate moment I’d had up until this point had been decided for me.
But this? Now? This was my choice. And I knew it all the way down to the tips of my toes.
Even as the masked stranger held me tightly by my neck and my chains above my head, I knew that I could say no and he would stop.
He would listen and walk away if I asked him to.
I might not have known his name or what his face looked like, but I knew I wanted this. Maybe that was fucked up, but I did. I wanted to make my own decisions for a change. I wanted to be with someone I chose.
With every thrust, I felt more unbound. I’d locked myself up so tightly for years. Existing only in the capacity that I was allowed. It kept me safe. Or relatively so.
As we moved together it felt like that part of me that I’d locked away began to break free. I felt it loosen in my chest and an inhuman scream burst through my throat.
All the times I’d been told to be quiet. All the times I’d had to stuff my thoughts down. All the times I wasn’t believed came rushing to the surface.
That voice. The one I’d kept bottled up for so long had finally emerged. And it was screaming.
Tears streamed down my face and I turned wild. A ferocity of need consumed me as my masked man fucked me hard and fast. Just like I wanted.
He didn’t utter a word, but I felt like I could tell what he was thinking by the tilt of his head and the grip of his hands.
Pleasure thrummed through my body, taking me to the brink as I felt that spark of arousal devour my every nerve. I didn’t know it could be like this. That I could feel so free and so completely ravished. And so fucking full.
“You feel so good. So, fucking big. I’ve never… it’s never been like this for me,”
He grunted, and I knew he meant that he felt the same. I don’t know how, but it was a knowledge that laid deep in my gut.
He kept me pinned down. My arms above my head and his hand around my neck.
He held me with the right amount of pressure while he fucked me nice and hard.
His pelvis rubbed up against my clit with every thrust. And that mask with the glassy black eyes and twin filters stared down at me, tracking my every reaction.
It was so hot.
Those muscles, the way he moved, the way he was able to hit that perfect spot inside me made my toes curl and core clench. I was the wettest I’d ever been in my life. Embarrassingly so. Without having to look, I knew there was a huge wet spot on the bed beneath my ass.
He fucked me like he was desperate for me. Like his mission in life was to make me feel good. Any time I made a noise of approval, he would do more of whatever made me sound delightfully out of my mind with satisfaction. I could let him do this to me all night.
And then he started shuddering, balls slapping against me hard. His movements became uninhibited and his hips snapped with such force I thought we were going to break the bed.
“Oh my God! Fuck!!” I yelled out as he let go of my neck, using his hand to lift my right leg over his shoulder for a better angle. He hit even deeper than before and I felt my eyes roll back into my head. His hand moved with purpose up my thigh and then his thumb found my clit between us.
I understood the command without him having to say anything .
He wanted me to come on his cock.
Another swipe of my clit and I was doing exactly what he wanted.
A surge of pleasure hit my spine and detonated through every nerve in my body.
It was otherworldly and left me tingling, and panting, and wanting to do it all over again.
A moment later, I felt him. His cock swelled and then he was pulling out of me, painting my stomach and dress with his cum.
We sat there stunned, both of us breathing hard like we couldn’t believe what we had done.
I knew I couldn’t. I’d just let the man who kidnapped me, fuck me.
Not just let. Begged. I should feel embarrassed, but all I felt was a sense of satisfaction.
I’d made the choice for no one but myself. And it felt so fucking good.
As he stood, I watched him adjust his clothes and grab a wet washcloth for me.
That mask he wore was, bite my lip and fan my face, hot, but I couldn’t help but wonder who was under there.
Would he let me see him? Would he let me go now?
Or would I be kept down here still? A thought crossed my mind that if I wanted to escape, now might be the time with him so distracted.
But escape to where? If I ran out of here, wherever here was, there was no guarantee that I wouldn’t be picked up by the police and taken right back to John.
When he came back, he held a small, silver key in his hands and handed me the washcloth as he unlocked my wrists. There was a light red welt along each of my wrists, but otherwise they felt okay. Weird even without the extra weight that I’d become accustomed to.
He left the room, still not uttering a word, and locked the door behind him. But at least now I wasn’t chained to the wall. I didn’t know if it was a reward or I’d earned his trust. Either way, being in this room was better than the life I’d been living.
With my arms free, I was able to go into the bathroom and take a real shower, instead of the quick wash-ups I’d done in the sink. And I could choose from the multitudes of clothing options in the dresser.
After waffling between several options, I settled on a pair of black leggings and a cream cashmere sweater that was so soft I could have sworn it was made from angel feathers.
The leggings hugged my body, and I noted that my hips were wider and my face looked a little fuller.
Healthier. Was my skin actually glowing?
What a thing to actually feel better about myself and in my body as a fucking captive.
John always commented on the way I looked, because apparently his ideal woman was one that couldn’t fight back.
He preferred me frail. But also, he wanted me to fit into this unattainable aesthetic instead of the way I’d always existed—curvy.
In his opinion, I was an extension of him and if I didn’t look the way he wanted, that reflected poorly on him and his image.
Especially when he started preaching for real at our local church in addition to his time as a teacher at Kingston.
Weight was something I found a lot of people in the church we attended were obsessed with, as if it were a direct result of how holy we were.
The thinner you were, the better the congregation treated you.
If you were larger, then you weren’t leaning on God.
Never mind if you had any medical conditions or liked your body the way it was.
When they saw someone that was larger than whatever their ideal weight was, they automatically assumed that person wasn’t praying hard enough.
And they treated them as such. The whole thing enraged me.
To sit and yell ‘amen’ anytime John preached that we were made in God’s image and then not accept all people and body types was outrageous.
When I got back into the bed, I changed out the sheets. There was, like I thought, a huge wet spot that brought a red tint to my cheeks as I remembered just how amazing the masked man had made me feel.
While I didn’t have any answers on what he wanted with me, I found that my time away from John had granted me a glimpse of what I would be like without him.
And I liked that idea so fucking much. I missed the girl I was before he got ahold of me.
But more than that, I missed the life I could have had if given the choice.
This masked man might have plans for me, but now I had plans for myself. I owed it to myself to see what I could become without the constraints of what others expected of me. If I ever got out of this room, I vowed to make that dream life happen for myself. Somehow.