Pleasure in Panic 🔪 | Ghostface!Rafe ♡ FEM READER !!
-masterlist-
Warnings: Dub-Con, stalking, oral sex (reader receiving), humiliation/ degradation leg-up rear-entry position & knife Play
Note: I'm not sure if this turned out well, I tried to use references from the original film, but anyway, here it is and sorry for any mistakes, I didn't proofread it. (i say this because my English isn't as good as most of yours, native speakers.)
It was late at night and your parents had gone out and you were lounging on the sofa, watching some random movie on television just to pass the time. You even laughed at some silly jokes on the screen, trying to ward off the boredom. That was when the landline, over in the kitchen, started to ring.
That wasn't the first time the device had rung that night. In fact, it was already the fourth or fifth call, but you hated answering calls from unknown numbers, so you just ignored all the previous ones. Except now the sound was getting really irritating. Whoever it was, calling at that hour of the morning, could only be a complete clueless idiot.
Releasing a heavy sigh, you got up from the sofa and walked to the kitchen. The environment was half dark, illuminated only by the faint light coming from the living room. You pulled the receiver from the hook with force, with no patience at all, and answered.
"who is it?"
You asked with a clear tone of disdain, showing how much you were fed up with being bothered so late. The silence on the other side lasted only a second before a distorted voice, somewhat slurred and strangely cynical, filled the line.
"Finally the little princess decided to answer the phone."
The voice sounded completely modified, impossible to recognize, which made your stomach do a slight knot, although the anger was still greater than the strangeness.
"Look, I don't know who you are or what you want, but stop calling my house!"
You countered, the irritation rising in tone in an obvious way.
"Oh, what a boring girl. I just wanted to play a game."
The voice dripped pure mockery, almost making it possible to feel the sarcastic smile on the other side of the line. You rolled your eyes, wanting to finish this quickly.
"If I do this shit, will you stop calling?"
The phone went silent for a few seconds, creating an uncomfortable tension in the air, before the mysterious person finally responded.
"Sure. The game is quite simple."
You remained standing next to the counter, waiting for him to say whatever this stupid game was. In your head, it had to be a tasteless prank from some acquaintance trying to scare you, so you tried to maintain your posture.
"Do you like scary movies?"
The question came out of nowhere and left you confused. A light shiver ran up the back of your neck and the atmosphere in the kitchen seemed to cool a bit, but you swallowed hard and kept your voice firm.
"Sure... everyone likes them, don't they?"
The voice on the other side of the line let out a low laugh, a muffled sound that made the hairs on your arm stand up, and continued.
"The game is as follows: I will ask you three questions about horror movies. If you get them right, you are free. But if you get them wrong... I cut your throat."
The direct threat hit like a punch. That made you freeze from head to toe, the blood seeming to vanish from your face all at once. You stood motionless, unable to breathe properly for a few seconds, processing the weight of those words.
"Look, this isn't funny at all. I'm going to hang up and call the police."
Your voice came out a bit more shaky now, the police bluff being your only defense. The voice laughed once more, a genuinely amused tone, as if it were loving your reaction.
"I am already inside your house. There is no use calling anyone. Just accept the game."
Panic finally set in for real. Your heart began to race in your chest and, in a desperate reflex, you stretched out your free hand and opened the kitchen cutlery drawer with a loud pull. Your hands began to sweat cold while your trembling fingers fumbled inside until they gripped the handle of a large meat knife. Your entire body reacted poorly to the rush of adrenaline.
"What the fuck do you want from me?"
You asked, your voice breaking at the end while you swallowed a contained sob, pressing the knife against your chest and looking frantically at the shadows in the hallways of the house.
"I just want you to play with me."
A loud and shaky sigh escaped through your nose, the sound almost echoing in the silent kitchen. With the meat knife firmly driven against your chest and wide eyes, darting across every dark corner, every door, and every shadow of the house, you tried to seek a strength you didn't have at the moment.
"Fuck it, ask me this shit already."
You let the words out with a forced courage, your voice coming out a bit harsher than expected. The chill down your spine was paralyzing, a freezing sensation that seemed to trap your feet to the floor. The idea of running to the front door and disappearing into the dark street crossed your mind, but fear had already taken over everything. Your head was spinning and you could barely reason properly, let alone plan an escape.
"That's what I wanted to hear."
The answer came immediate, loaded with slurred and sadistic tone that made your stomach churn.
Trying to become the smallest target possible, you slid your back down the wall and crouched, shrinking yourself under the marble kitchen counter. The space was tight, but it brought a false sense of protection. There, in the dark, with your legs pulled close to your body and sweaty fingers squeezing the metal handle of the knife, you held your breath, waiting for the worst.
The voice on the other side of the line didn't wait even a second, giving you no space to breathe or try to calm down. It simply cut the silence with the first question, direct and sharp.
"In the movie Stab, what is the name of the protagonist?"
You were drenched in cold sweat, hair sticking to your forehead and eyes tearing up from the pure dread of being cornered in that dark corner. Your mind worked fast, desperately seeking the answer in your memory.
"It's Sidney Prescott."
You answered immediately, your voice coming out in a thread of sound that mixed desperation with a breath of relief for knowing the answer. You knew that movie by heart. Your back relaxed minimally against the wall under the counter, hoping that would be enough to make the guy disappear.
"Now that's enough, isn't it?"
You let out, your voice failing miserably. The mascara had already run, leaving black tracks down your cheeks while you finally broke down into a silent but desperate cry. The fear was a physical weight now, something that crushed your chest and made every breath an exhaustive task.
"The game is only beginning."
He replied, and his tone didn't have a shred of mercy. On the contrary, it seemed like he was savoring your every sob, every tremor that escaped through the receiver. He could hear exactly the sound of your broken breathing, the sound of your desperation being transmitted in real time.
"In what year was the movie Friday the 13th released?"
The question came fast, like a gunshot. Your brain went absolutely blank. Panic had drained all your capacity to think rationally. Dates, facts, names, everything became a blur in your mind. You tried to pull from memory, but you could only hear the sound of your own heart hammering in your ears.
"It was... was it in 1984? I think it was 1984."
You answered, closing your eyes tight and praying that you were right.
The silence that followed was almost more terrifying than any scream. There was a static void on the line for an endless moment. Then, the sound of a low laugh, almost a growl, echoed from the other side, followed by a dry click.
"Wrong. The year was 1980. Seems like someone lost."
Ice took over every cell of your body. Before you could beg for mercy or say anything else, a metallic sound came from upstairs. The creak of a wooden floorboard that always squeaked when someone stepped in the hallway.
It wasn't a noise coming from the television. It was a heavy, deliberate step.
You dropped the phone, letting it swing by the cord while you shrank even more under the counter, the knot in your throat preventing you from even screaming. The sound of steps began to descend the stairs, slow, as if he were amusing himself with the fact that you knew he was approaching. Every creaking step was like a countdown to the end. You squeezed the knife so hard that your knuckles turned white, and your breathing stopped totally when a shadow, long and distorted, began to project through the gap of the counter, stopping exactly at the kitchen entrance.
You brought your free hand to your mouth with force, muffling any sound that could betray your hiding place. Your nails almost dug into your own skin while you listened to the dry and rhythmic sound of heavy boots walking across the floor of the house. The panic seemed to crush you for real, leaving your body totally tense, squeezed and shrunken in that narrow gap under the kitchen counter. Every second felt like an eternity.
Needing desperately to know where he was, you took courage and put your head out for a millisecond. Your eyes ran frantic through the shadows of the living room and the hallway. Nothing. There was no one there.
A false and quick breath of hope passed through your chest. You turned back to your hiding place, trying to catch the breath you had lost, but the air simply vanished from your lungs.
He was right there.
Centimeters from your face, crouching in front of you, blocking any exit. The ghost mask, with that empty and distorted expression, seemed to mock your terror. The long black robes seemed to swallow what little light there was in the environment. Your heart gave a snap and the scream finally ripped through your throat when you saw the cold glint of the huge knife he held firmly.
"Please, no, no, no..."
You begged, your voice coming out in a desperate whimper while trying to move away, pushing your own body back against the cold wall.
But there was no time. In a fast and brutal movement, his gloved hands grabbed your ankles with absurd strength. He pulled you out of the counter gap all at once, making your back drag across the smooth kitchen floor. Panic took over your muscles and you began to struggle violently, kicking the air and trying to dig your nails into any surface to release yourself from that relentless grip.
In a pure survival impulse, you bent your free leg and kicked his chest with all the strength you had. The impact made the masked man stumble back for a second, enough to release your ankles. Without thinking about anything else, you propelled yourself up, heart in mouth, and dashed towards the hallway, trying to reach the back door that led to the yard.
But it was useless. He was much faster, stronger, and seemed to predict your every move with a totally calculated coldness. Before your fingers could even touch the door lock, you felt a firm hand grab your arm with brutality, pulling you back and interrupting your escape.
He advanced with his whole body on top of you, pinning you and pressing you against the wall with a dull thud. Your back stung with the impact, but the pain vanished completely when you felt the icy touch of the blade. The knife was pressed against the sensitive skin of your neck, sharp, shiny, and ready to cut at the slightest movement.
You cried like a helpless child, desperation totally blurring your vision while hot tears mixed with sweat.
"What did I do to you? What do you want from me?"
You asked in tears, screaming terrified, your voice failing from the knot of panic in your throat. Before the sound could echo more through the house, his gloved hand went up and covered your mouth with force, muffling your screams, while the other hand kept the blade firm against your neck.
"I just want you, why do you insist on running away?"
The distorted voice came out in a low tone, almost intimate, loaded with a scary obsession. He didn't seem in any hurry to finish this. Slowly, he began to slide the blunt side of the knife down your body, going up your chest until reaching your face, using the cold metal to push away some strands of hair that were stuck to your forehead from sweat. He was playing with you, savoring every millimeter of your dread.
You looked fixedly at the blade, your eyes following the reflection of the metal until reaching his gloved hands, which held the weapon with scary firmness. Your body was completely motionless, as if any minimal movement could make the knife rip your skin. The silence of the house was filled only by the sound of your short breathing and by the slurred and sickly tone that came from behind that mask.
"I like watching you. I've been seeing you for a while..."
He spoke in a calm way, almost affectionate, while continuing to caress your body with the side of the knife. The touch of the cold metal against your clothes made your muscles contract in spasms of pure horror. With every word, his voice seemed closer, more intimate.
"I like seeing you in your room, I know every friendship you have and, especially, I love seeing you take a shower..."
Those words hit like a bucket of ice water, bringing deep nausea. The panic, which before was only from the fear of dying, now transformed into something much darker and invasive. He wasn't just any killer; he was a maniac who had violated your privacy, who had been in the shadows of your safest place while you hadn't even imagined it.
The sensation of being watched, of having had every intimate moment observed by those eyes hidden behind the mask, left you even more terrified. You felt naked and vulnerable before him, as if he already had total control over your life long before entering that house. Your legs weakened and you only didn't fall because his body kept you pressed against the wall, while he tilted his head to the side, admiring the psychological damage he had just caused.
"Don't kill me, please, I'll do anything."
The request came out in a slurred whisper, broken by crying. It was pure defensive instinct. In that moment of absolute desperation, you didn't care about pride, about dignity, or about what that promise meant; you just wanted to stay alive, you wanted that nightmare to end.
"Kill you?"
He let out a muffled laugh behind the voice modifier, a genuinely amused sound that made your stomach churn with disgust and fear. The masked man tilted his head a bit closer to your face, the pressure of the knife decreasing just enough not to cut, but still maintaining total control over you.
"Darling, I wouldn't kill you before playing with you."
The implicit promise in his words made what rest of courage you had vanish completely. His tone changed, moving from being just threatening to assuming a sickly, heavy, and claustrophobic possession.
He took another step forward, sticking his body to yours so that you could feel his breath, even through the black fabric. The gloved hand that previously covered your mouth slid slowly down your jaw, holding your chin with force, forcing you to look fixedly at the dark and empty eyes behind the holes in the mask. You were completely at his mercy, cornered between the cold wall and the dangerous obsession that exuded from every movement of Ghostface.
"I'm going to let you go, but if you try any funny business, I'm going to take this knife and gut you."
He said every word with a cutting coldness, without the slightest hesitation, making it clear he wasn't joking. You just nodded your head frantically, your body trembling so much that you could barely stay standing. The control of the situation was totally in his hands.
The masked man moved away, not much, but enough for air to return to your lungs in a heavy and painful way. You tried to stabilize your breathing, but panic still clouded everything.
"Lean on this table, turned back now."
He pointed to the side table, the one where the picture frames with smiling photos of your family and some decoration jars stood. You couldn't understand why the hell he was asking that, but the glint of the blade in his hand was the only argument that mattered. With wobbly legs, you obeyed, feeling the cold wood under the palms of your hands while you leaned over, standing with your back to him.
Standing right behind you, Ghostface let his gaze run over every detail of your body. He didn't make an effort to hide how much he was enjoying the view, observing your curves and the way you were vulnerable there, in front of him.
"Good girl. See? Just obey me and everything will be fine."
The distorted voice now sounded lower, loaded with a sickly satisfaction. You whimpered softly, tears dripping onto the tabletop, right next to a childhood photo of yourself.
"I'm going to fuck this pussy and you're going to stay very quiet, aren't you?"
The shock of those direct and dirty words made your blood freeze, but the terror was so absolute that you couldn't fight anymore. Amidst the sobs, you just agreed with your head, without even trying an appeal or a call for help, completely surrendered to the cruel fate he had traced for that night.
He put the knife away for a brief second, only the time necessary to bring his hands to the edge of the mask. The black fabric slid up, revealing the face that was hidden there the whole time. You froze, air dying in your throat as you recognized him. It was Rafe. The guy you saw circulating around town, always with that air of superiority and an unstable glint in his look. You couldn't understand why he would go to the trouble of revealing himself, why he would take that risk.
Rafe turned off the voice modifier with a dry snap. The silence that followed was almost deafening, broken only by your erratic breathing. He held you by the shoulders, turning you back to him with a blunt movement, forcing you to face him head-on.
Those piercing blue eyes were fixed on yours, glowing with a manic intensity and a dark satisfaction. He seemed to be loving the shock plastered on your face.
"You can see my face now, but this will be our dirty secret. Otherwise, you already know your fate."
His voice, now natural, was raspy and loaded with a dangerous authority. It wasn't a robotic and distant voice anymore; it was the voice of someone you knew, which made everything a thousand times more real and terrifying. He approached even closer, his face coming a few centimeters from yours, making it clear that, from that moment on, your life belonged to him and to the silence you would be forced to keep.
Rafe gave a stinging slap to your ass that made you let out a sharp moan, a sound of pure shock that echoed through the silent environment. Without wasting time, he turned you back and pinned you with even more force against the table, making your body yield and stay totally supported, almost lying on the surface.
You felt the fabric of your dress rise as his hands went up your thighs. He squeezed your ass with a possessive force, digging his fingers into your skin in a way that would leave clear marks the next day. The weight of his body on yours was crushing, a constant pressure that didn't let you forget who was in absolute control of that situation.
Slowly, with a sadism that seemed to give him pleasure, Rafe ran his index finger along the elastic of your panties. The touch was invasive, hot, and loaded with a dangerous lust. You closed your eyes tight, feeling the cold metal of the knife still somewhere close, while the silence was cut only by your erratic breathing and by the sound of his touch.
"So soft," he whispered against your neck, his natural voice sounding much more terrifying than the modified one. "I knew you would be perfect like this up close."
You felt your heart beating in your throat, every muscle of your body tensed while he explored your vulnerability, taking advantage of every second of your tremor under his command.
"I need to taste this pussy first."
Rafe's voice came out low, loaded with an urgency that made the hairs on your arm stand up completely. You swallowed hard, feeling the knot in your throat almost suffocate you, while your breasts were squeezed against the surface of the small table. With short and shaky movements, you tried to wipe the trail of tears with the palm of your hands, but the crying was constant, silent, and heavy.
Rafe positioned himself right behind you, lowering himself enough so that you felt the heat of his breath against your exposed skin. With an agile and decided movement, he pulled your panties down. Instead of simply throwing them aside, he pinned them to the tip of the knife, letting the fabric hang there, swinging slightly like a hunting trophy.
Without any hurry, he used his hands to push your buttocks apart, exposing you completely to the dim light of the environment. You felt his gaze burn over your intimacy, a long and invasive analysis that made you want to disappear. He was there, close up, observing every detail of your pussy with a sickly fixation, savoring the vision of your total vulnerability before finally moving forward.
Rafe didn't wait a second longer. He approached for good, keeping his hands firm and possessive while separating your buttocks, exposing you completely to his touch. Without any warning, you felt the heat of his tongue invading your intimacy with an intensity that made you lose your breath. The contrast between the coldness of what was happening and the heat of his mouth was disconcerting.
You remained there, back turned, leaning on the table with fingers dug into the wood, trying to process the situation. Rafe licked you with a voracious will, his large hands squeezing your thighs to keep you in place, preventing any attempt to escape or close your legs.
It was at this moment that absolute dread began to mix with a confused and desperate sensation. Even with your heart hammering from fear and tears still wetting the tabletop, you felt your body betray you completely. An involuntary wave of heat began to spread through your lower belly, and a tremor that wasn't just from shock ran through your legs.
You hated that, hated the fact of reacting to the touch of a maniac who minutes ago was hunting you with a knife, but the physical reaction was visceral and uncontrollable. Your lips parted and a low moan, muffled by crying, escaped your throat while Rafe continued the work, appearing to perceive exactly the effect he was causing on you. He brought one of his hands up to your back, digging his nails lightly into your skin, making it clear that your every reaction now belonged to him.
His tongue went up and down with a torturous slowness, going from your pussy to the entrance of your ass, exploring every centimeter with a voracious will. Rafe used his hands to open you even more, without the slightest delicacy, forcing your body to surrender to that invasive contact. The way your buttocks squeezed his face seemed to suffocate him for a few moments, but far from stopping, this seemed to drive him completely crazy, feeding his obsession even more.
You were with your face pressed to the table, fingers scratching the surface while feeling the wet and hot lunges of his tongue. The desperation was still there, but the involuntary pleasure had become an unbearable weight. You couldn't even hide the moans anymore that escaped between one sob and another, low and breathless sounds that filled the heavy silence of the house.
Every time one of these sounds came out of your mouth, a wave of self-disgust hit you with force. It was a sickly sensation to be feeling your body react that way while he treated you like an object, like a possession. Rafe noticed your internal struggle and that seemed to amuse him. He gave a light bite on the inside of your thigh, a painful warning that made you arch your back and let out a muffled scream, before going back to licking you with even more intensity.
Your intimacy was completely soaked, the shine of your own involuntary desire reflecting the faint light while Rafe rubbed his face against you without any shame. He didn't seem satisfied just to feel your taste; he wanted to drown in you, licking every drop of the honey that ran down, savoring your physical reaction as if it were a prize.
You felt his hands squeeze your thighs so hard that his fingers felt like they were going to sink into your skin, keeping you open and vulnerable in that humiliating position on the table.
"Move this pussy in my face."
The order came in a raspy tone, loaded with an almost threatening authority. It wasn't a request; it was a demand from someone who knew he had total control over your life in that moment. Rafe tilted his head a bit more, waiting for you to yield to his command.
You let out a broken sob, your head throbbing from the crying and from the confusion of feelings that took over your body. Even with disgust corroding your mind, the fear of being gutted by the knife he left right there spoke louder.
Trembling from head to toe, you began to move your hips against his face, in an uncertain and desperate rhythm, feeling his tongue find you again with a voracity that made you lose your ground. The sound of his heavy breathing against you and the wet noise of the contact made your face burn with shame, while Rafe let out a low growl, satisfied to see you submitting to his most sickly desires.
A long and involuntary moan escaped your throat, a sound you tried to muffle but that came out loaded with an intensity that scared you. Your pussy was so soaked that the liquid ran down, staining his face as you moved. Rafe let out a low growl, a muffled moan against your skin that vibrled directly in your clitoris, making it pulse with a desperate force.
To make your agony worse, he delivered another firm and stinging slap to your ass, the mark of his hand burning on your skin while he observed, fascinated, you rubbing yourself against him. He seemed to feed on your submission, on the way your body was acting against your will.
You squeezed the edges of the table so hard the wood seemed like it would give way under your fingers. Your eyes were firmly closed, eyelids trembling, while you tried to disconnect from reality. The shame was a suffocating weight in your chest; you felt completely exposed, disgusted by the way your body responded to the touch of that monster, while he delighted in your desperation and your involuntary pleasure.
"That's it, rub yourself for me," he murmured with a failing voice, feeling the heat of your skin against his, while his hands held you with a possession that left no doubts: you were his now.
Rafe stood up all at once, heavy breathing hitting your back while he positioned himself right behind you. Without saying a single word of warning, he just took his cock out from inside those heavy black clothes. You felt the sudden heat emanating from him, a physical presence that seemed to fill the little space that remained between your bodies.
With a firm hand buried in your hip, he began to rub the head of his cock directly against your entrance, which was already swollen and sensitive because of everything he had just done. The contact of his hot skin against your soaked and pulsing intimacy made your legs weaken.
You felt every centimeter of him moving there, sliding over your clitoris and pressing the opening that begged for relief at the same time your mind screamed in dread. Rafe let out a low growl in your ear, a purely animal sound, while increasing the pressure of the friction. He was delighting in the way you were ready for him, even though your eyes were still overflowing with tears and your hands continued squeezing the table in a gesture of pure desperation.
He was in no hurry; he wanted you to feel exactly the size of the trouble you were in before finally deciding to fill you completely.
Rafe's hand descended with agility, fingers finding your clitoris and massaging it with a technical and cruel speed that made your body give a jolt. Before you could process the electric shock that ran through your spine, he held your thigh and, with a blunt movement, suspended one of your legs, supporting it with force on top of the table.
Now, with one leg elevated and the other struggling to keep you balanced on the floor, you were in a position of absolute vulnerability, totally wide open for him. The new angle allowed him to fit perfectly between your thighs. He took advantage of the opening to rub his cock with force from top to bottom, spreading all his own honey and his sweat all over your hot and throbbing pussy.
The friction was intense, direct, and wet. You felt his heat emanating against your sensitive skin, a pressure that seemed to want to go through you even before penetration. Unable to contain the physical reaction, you bit your lips hard, trying to muffle the sound that wanted to come out, while the metallic taste of your own blood and the salt of tears mixed in your mouth.
Rafe let out a low and victorious laugh at seeing the state you were in, his hands now dug into your waist, keeping you fixed to the table while he continued to smear himself in you, preparing the ground for what would come next.
Rafe finally pushed his cock in all at once, without more ceremonies, invading your intimacy with a force that ripped a loud and strangled moan from your throat. The sensation was overwhelming; he was too big, too thick, and for a second you felt as if he were ripping you in half. But, from being so soaked, he slid with a cruel ease, filling every empty space inside you.
Without giving time for you to get used to the filling, he wrapped his fingers in your hair with force, pulling your head back and exposing your neck. He began to fuck with the ferocity of a wild animal, deep and blunt thrusts that made your body crash repeatedly against the edge of the table. You felt his cock throbbing in there, every beat of his blood echoing against the walls of your uterus, which was being completely taken by that greedy invasion.
"Rafe... why... why are you doing this?"
The words came out broken by breathless moans and heavy sighs. Your mind was a complete chaos: a part of you still screamed in panic, wanting to escape that violence, but your body, traitorous and thirsty, seemed to mold itself to his rhythm. The pleasure was so intense and forbidden that it left you dizzy, making you hate yourself for feeling that, in that moment, that delicious cock was the only thing that mattered while he fucked you with so much will.
Rafe didn't answer with words. He just growled, increasing the speed of the thrusts even more, the sound of flesh hitting flesh filling the environment while he used you as if you were just an object made for his pleasure.
Your hips began to follow his rhythm, moving in an involuntary impulse that sought more of that deep contact. The shock of perceiving that you were starting to like it, that pleasure was winning over dread, was almost as overwhelming as his thrusts. You felt the heat spreading, a sinful electricity that made your legs tremble even more.
Rafe let out a raspy and pleasant laugh, a sound loaded with triumph at feeling you surrendering to the wild rhythm he dictated. He didn't stop; on the contrary, the thrusts got even stronger, the sound of flesh hitting with force against your ass echoing in the environment.
"Dirty little bitch, where did your fear go now, hum?"
He mocked with his voice loaded with scorn, pulling your hair harder back so he could see the state of your face, eyes rolling, mouth half-open letting escape moans you couldn't contain anymore. He loved seeing the transition from the terrified victim to the woman who silently begged for more.
You felt exactly as he described, moaning in a way you never imagined being capable of, your body totally open and ready to receive every centimeter of that cock that now seemed to be the center of your universe. The shame continued there, but it was being buried by the urgency of the sickly pleasure Rafe injected into you with every deep thrust, making your uterus throb under his weight.
"Rafe, please..."
The plea escaped between teeth, a slurred sound that fluctuated between desperation and total surrender. The internal conflict was torturing: your mind still tried to process the horror of the invasion, but your body, now totally lit up by his blunt thrusts, responded to every impact with an urgency you couldn't ignore anymore. You didn't know if you were begging for him to stop or for him to go through you once and for all, and this uncertainty was what destroyed you most inside.
Rafe seemed to read your confusion. He let out a low growl, feeling how tight you were around him, the walls of your pussy hugging his cock with an almost hungry force. He gave a hard slap on your elevated thigh, making the skin vibrate under the impact, and thrust even deeper, hitting your cervix with a precision that made you arch your back and lose your breath.
"Please what, darling?" he whispered against your ear, the voice vibrating inside you. "Tell me what you want. Do you want me to stop or do you want me to fuck you until you forget your own name?"
He didn't slow down; on the contrary, he began to use his body weight to press you against the table with every thrust, transforming the act into something purely animal. You felt his sweat dripping on your back, his smell invading your senses, and every time his cock entered completely, you let out a moan that confirmed the answer you were afraid to give out loud. You were completely at the mercy of the dark pleasure he ripped from you.
"I don't know..."
The words came out weak, almost a whisper lost between your short breathing and the rhythmic sound of bodies colliding. You really didn't know what to do or what to say; your mind was a blur of panic and adrenaline, but the physical truth was incontestable. His cock was delicious. The way he filled you, the thickness that seemed to stretch your internal walls to the limit, and the heat that radiated from him created a sense of fullness you had never experienced.
Rafe let out a nasal laugh, a sound of pure mockery. He seemed to delight in your disorientation.
"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice loaded with a cruel satisfaction. "But your body seems to know very well."
To prove his point, Rafe held your hips with both hands, digging his fingers into your skin with force, and began to perform circular movements while continuing to thrust deep. His cock rubbed every sensitive spot in there, making your uterus throb and your clitoris vibrate with the pressure.
You let out a louder moan, hands squeezing the edge of the table until your knuckles turned white. It was a pleasurable agony, a conflict that left you dizzy. You felt dirty for desiring that, for wanting him never to stop, even knowing who he was and what he had done. Rafe increased the speed, transforming the thrusts into fast and violent blows, determined to rip from you any rest of doubt until only pure and animal pleasure was left.
"Tell me, tell me you're liking it."
Rafe's tone was a mix of command and pure sadism. He stretched his arm and grabbed the knife, the same one where your panties still hung like a ridiculous and humiliating trophy. You felt the cold of the metal touch the sensitive skin of your neck, circling your throat with a slowness that promised danger. Fear and adrenaline mixed in a sickly way in your blood, and the pressure of the blade against your skin made your intimacy pulse and flood his cock even more.
Guilt weighed on your chest like lead, but pleasure was an overwhelming force you couldn't fight anymore. With your face pressed against the table and failing breath, you yielded.
"Yes... I like this," you confessed, your voice coming out in a trembling thread of sound, admitting the truth that destroyed you inside.
Rafe let out a victorious growl upon hearing your confession. He pulled your hair back with force, forcing you to arch your body and feel the knife press a bit more against your neck, while he thrust with a renewed ferociousness. Every thrust was a deep blow that echoed in your uterus, and the fact that he knew you were liking it seemed to give him the green light to be even more animal.
"I knew it, you little bitch," he whispered, his voice loaded with a sickly pleasure. "Knew you would love being treated like this by me."
He didn't give a break. His cock entered and exited you with a force that made the table creak, while the glint of the blade near your eyes constantly reminded you that, in that moment, your pleasure and your life were entirely in his unstable hands.
Rafe's final thrust was so violent and deep it seemed to hit the center of your being, making your eyes squeeze tight while a silent scream died in your throat. At the peak of that brutality, he let go of the knife; the metal hit the floor with a dry sound, but he didn't even blink, totally surrendered to the possessive trance he was in.
You felt his body tense completely behind you, fingers digging into your hips like claws. It was then that the first hot and dense wave hit you. Rafe came deep, discharging everything inside you, and the heat of his cum filling your uterus was the final trigger your body needed.
In the same frenetic rhythm, you collapsed into a violent orgasm. Your internal walls contracted desperately around his cock, sucking and squeezing every drop of the hot jet he fired. It was an overwhelming sensation of fullness and exhaustion. You felt his cock throb inside you, pulsing in synchrony with the contractions of your pussy, while the honey and the cum ran down your thighs, staining the table and your skin.
Rafe buried his face in your shoulder, heavy and noisy breathing, weighing over your body while you tried to catch your breath, feeling the hot liquid continue to leak from inside, permanently marking that moment of forced surrender and forbidden pleasure.
