Trophy 27 (Patreon)

The water stopped, but she still heard it. He stood over her now. His powerful build gleamed with the wetness that was striking him instead of her.

“How about a smile, Frank?”

“You wouldn’t like the way I smile.”

He reached out a hand, hard and direct, but when it reached her, sliding around her jaw to hold the back of her neck, it was gentle. He bent her towards him as he came down on her, forcing Bella to meet his mouth a hairsbreadth faster than she would’ve done. His scent flooded her nostrils before being washed away by the spray that came down on both of them. His tongue sought hers; it felt like a fire they were sheltering from the rain.

She lifted a weak hand—he grasped it in his and forced it down. Down all the height of his body, down to his endowment. It felt hot, powerful. A fleshy demand. She held it inside her fingers and his hand came off of her wrist, lifting to one of her breasts. He felt its smooth, round plumpness. The nipple hardened under the stirring of his thumb and forefinger.

Bella did the same to him. Kissing him, stroking him. Feeling the passion wrenching its way to the surface from deep inside, like a dragon’s breath. With her free hand, she touched his granite face, his oak neck, the tendons in his arms they felt like steel wire and the muscles of his chest that stood out in stark relief as they flexed, more like a frieze carved out of stone than any physique she’d ever felt before.

His hands described her body as well. She felt him touch her hair, her shoulders, the dip of her spine until it became her pillowy ass. Wherever he experienced her, she felt like she’d been set on fire. It actually made her feel beautiful. How gorgeous did she have to be to get this reaction out of such an implacable man?

Bella was surprised to the point of swooning that she actually cared. It was an answer to the question she’d been asking: whether she actually had been begging Frank or just acting. And she didn’t like it.

Impulsively, she snatched up the shampoo bottle from its holder, popped the lid with her thumbnail. Frank sensed something was happening. He stopped kissing her, reared up, eyes open and alert. She squirted the shampoo right into his eyes and she ran.

Wet, naked, the chain jangling behind her, she took off at full speed. Out of the nylon walls and into open air, the chill of the breeze on wet flesh, her feet slapping the pavement, then dirt and grass. Where was she going? She didn’t know. Away from here, away from this, him. The treeline beckoned her. She ran for it, embraced by high branches blotting out the sky and boles that she darted between. How many shrubs, bushes, saplings, leaves did she have to run through before Frank didn’t even have the sight of her? Bet you wished you fucked me in the ass now. Or fingered me some more. Or

The chain snapped taut around her waist, jerking her to a stop. It was like running full-tilt into a bar gate. She was swept off her feet, arms and feet flung forwards, and then momentum left her and gravity took over. She landed on her ass. It made her think of being spanked. Shit, Frank had done that to her too, hadn’t he?

She looked back. Frank was standing on the chain as he rinsed the shampoo out of his eyes. Bella grabbed her end of the chain in both hands and pulled hard. She couldn’t unseat him. It was like trying to drag an anchor up from the depths. Frank simply stood there until he’d reversed the damage he’d done. Then he shut off the water, bent down, and picked up the chain.

He started to pull.

Bella pulled back, but it wasn’t even a contest. She felt like one woman against an entire varsity time. She set her heels and all they did was trail through the dirt, until she hit a root and stumbled. Frank kept pulling, hand over hand, collecting a growing pile of links at his bare feet. Bella was forced to go along with the suction or fall on her belly and be dragged. She tried to dig in her heels again, but Frank didn’t give her enough time for that. She had to keep moving in his direction, out of the woods, over the hinterlands of grass, and finally into his shadow.

She slapped at him. He caught her wrist. Her other hand darted for his groin. He caught her wrist again. With both her hands trapped, she started to raise her knee, but he had already used her handhold to pull her off-balance and then sweep her down to the ground.

He pinned her hands up above her head. He knelt on her legs, paralyzing them. Bella could heave her torso upwards, but she accomplished nothing but rubbing her slick skin together with Frank’s.

She felt his erection between their bodies, as powerful and unrelenting as it’d been when she took it in her hand.

“You did that to me. Now it’s your problem.”

“Then use it on me, faggot motherfucker!” Bella spat. “Go on! Ravish me! Make me see stars! Fuck my brains out! I know you want to, anyone could tell you want to! That’s why you took me! I’m here to be your bitch, so make me your bitch!”

He didn’t say anything. He only held her down. Still. Unable to move. Unable to think of anything but where she was, what was happening. What wasn’t happening. Her body quivered. Her breaths jumped in and out of her lungs. Her breasts rose and fell, the nipples brushing Frank’s broad chest with every inhale. He might as well have been a statue, except for the paradoxical heat she felt steaming off him. It aroused her more than a caress ever could.

“You think you’ve got me trapped? I’ve got you, motherfucker! I’ve got you thinking about me every minute, every day. Every woman you’re with, you wonder if she’s as tight as me, as wet as I’d be. I’m in your head, you son of a bitch! You’ll never be able to forget about me!”

He was hot, he was male, he was an animal like her—but the key didn’t turn in the lock. Why not? What was the final ingredient? How could he be such a beast and not ravage her? How could she be such a temptress and not seduce him? It made no sense. And the longer he held her down, untouched, denied any of the sweet fulfillment that went with the anticipation needling her body, the more it maddened her.

“Fine. Fine! Let's both just lie here and think about how good it would be and not do anything about it.”

To hell with him. He probably wasn’t even that good a fuck anyway. It was just the situation. Any woman would be a bit intrigued under the circumstances. The sureness of him, the confidence, the experience—how would it translate when the animal took over and he was inside her? Would he handle her body as well as he did his fingers? Could she make him lose control? And if he did, would the result be pain or pleasure?

But the world was a sick, sad place. Her deprived imagination was no predictor for what would really be. He was nothing, really. No strutting he-man, no gentle lover… no match for her at all. There was nothing to see beyond the walls he put up. Her curiosity was childish. She shouldn’t assume there must be something to find out, just because it was hidden. He was only another guy, that was all. He had nothing to offer her. She was a woman. She didn’t need anything from him.

Yes, this was better. She could make him acknowledge he couldn’t satisfy her. Why else would he hold back? Bella knew how perfect her body was. If he at all thought he was up to the task of pleasing her—

“Say you’re a whore.”

“What?”

Frank’s voice rolled over her like the first wave of high tide, covering the entire beach. “Say you’re a whore and I’ll fuck you like a whore.”

The words leapt out of her like an exhale after a held breath. “I’m a whore.”