His Captive |

After my husband left for work, I hurried to the bedroom, my heart pounding with anticipation. I slipped off my robe, letting it pool at my feet, and pulled on the red lace negligee. It clung to me like a second skin, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. The hem barely grazed my thighs, highlighting my lean legs, while the lace cupped my breasts, spilling over the top, accentuating every curve. My loose goldenbrown waves fell softly around my face, and my lips, painted in bold crimson, offered a silent invitation.

I glanced at myself in the mirror, my lips curling into a smile. This was for him.

My husband, lost in his work, had left me starving for attention, giving me only the scraps of his fleeting, distracted moments. The bedroom we shared had been a graveyard for months, void of any intimacy, lifeless.

I couldn’t take it anymore—the constant ache of feeling undesired, like I wasn’t even a woman to him anymore—just a roommate, a maid, someone to handle all the housework, only to be met with silence as he stared at his phone or computer, completely absorbed in his work. It felt like I had faded into the background, invisible, while he lived in a world I no longer belonged to. The emptiness had swallowed me whole, and I desperately needed to feel alive again.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers trembling as I typed a single word: Ready. It was our code. He knew what it meant—that I was alone, and the back door to our home was unlocked. No need for more; we had already discussed everything in the Lush chatroom.

I knew he was out there somewhere, close to the house, waiting, watching. I didn’t even know his real name or what his face looked like—just the body pictures he sent. But that was part of the thrill, the not knowing.

The bedroom door was wide open as I sat on the unmade bed my husband and I had shared less than half an hour ago. The sheets were still warm.

My heart raced as I waited for a stranger I met online, on a site of all places. What the hell was I doing? Had I completely lost my mind? The questions burned in my head—was I a lustful, desperate slut? A sinner? A whore? Or was I just a broken woman, craving to feel wanted, to feel like I mattered, even if it only for a moment?

I heard the door open and close, then quiet footsteps on the stairs, and my breath caught. He was here, so I stood up and smoothed out my negligee, trying to calm the nervous flutter in my stomach.

He stepped into the room, wearing a black ski mask, only his lips and piercing eyes visible— bright and shadowed at once, like the sky before a storm. Dressed in a black tshirt and jeans, he looked casual, yet there was something unsettling about him—a quiet menace, like someone who controlled every situation without ever needing to raise his voice.

And then I saw it—the knife in his hand, catching the dim light. My heart lurched, freezing for a moment. What was this? I should have been terrified. I should have run. Any sane person would have. But instead of fear, an electric thrill coursed through me, excitement bubbling up as he stepped closer, making it difficult to breathe yet impossible to turn away.

He moved toward me, each step heavy, deliberate. My heart raced as my eyes locked onto his cold, steellike gaze. The knife gleamed in his hand like a silent threat, but it wasn’t the blade that made me shiver—it was the way he held it, with such effortless control, as if he knew exactly the power he held.

When he was close enough for me to feel his body warmth, he raised the knife, gently tracing the flat edge along my collarbone. The cool metal shocked my skin, but I didn’t move—I didn’t want to. His other hand gripped my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

The blade dipped lower, grazing the lace of my negligee, each touch evoking something darker, more primal, deep inside me. It wasn’t just excitement—it was a raw, disturbing hunger that stirred, daring me to surrender to the danger.

With a quick slice, the strap fell, then another cut, and the fabric pooled at my feet. My skin tingled under his warm touch, his fingers trailing over the places the blade had just been.

Vulnerable and exposed, I stood still, my body trembling slightly, my perky breasts rising and falling with each rapid breath. My nipples, already stiff peaks, reached for him like fragile petals, yearning for the sun’s hard, unrelenting heat.

His gaze scorched my skin, roaming over my naked body with a hunger that felt almost predatory, yet he remained still. I could feel his desire radiating, but he held back, torturing me with the wait.

The tension was maddening. I ached for him to touch me, to claim me, but he stood there, his stormy eyes locked on mine, igniting a fire in my amberflecked stare.

He let the silence stretch, pushing me to the edge until my body shivered with need, desire dripping down my thighs.

“Turn around,” his voice rumbled, deep and commanding, cutting through the silence.

The cold steel kissed my throat, its blunt edge a cruel tease, and its sharp edge close enough to draw blood with the slightest move.

What had I done?

I barely knew this man. My pulse roared in my ears, each frantic beat crashing against the blade, as if daring it to sink deeper. A surge of fear and adrenaline shot through me, twisting in the uncertainty of his intentions, panic swelling with every second the icy steel lingered on my fragile skin.

His free hand tightened around my hips, drawing me closer until my soft cheeks pressed against the undeniable arousal building in his jeans. His lips brushed the nape of my neck, his tongue tracing my skin, warm and wet.

The rush left me breathless as I tilted my head back, offering myself to him. His hand adjusted the blade with precision, responding to every subtle shift in my body, ensuring it never crossed the fine line between danger and control.

His warm breath grazed my neck as he whispered, “Put your hands behind your back.”

I obeyed, the intoxicating thrill of surrendering to this dangerous stranger clouding my thoughts. The blade lifted from my skin, and before I could even comprehend it, the sharp snap of handcuffs locked around my wrists.

My breath caught, every nerve ignited, my body humming with tension, helpless—completely at his mercy.

His hands seized my hips, firm and unyielding, leaving no question about his intent. Slowly, his palms traveled up my body, cupping my breasts, forcing a sharp gasp from my lips.

His fingers toyed with my nipples, each roll and tug a tantalizing tease—a slow burn that pooled into a deep warmth between my legs.

“You’re mine now,” he growled. “And I’m going to make sure you feel every bit of it.”

I arched my back, my hips grinding against the hard bulge in his jeans, a silent plea for him to take what he so clearly desired.

“Please,” I begged, my voice breathless. “I’m yours to use as you wish.”

His grip tightened, and he squeezed my nipples; sharp sparks of pain and pleasure surging through me, colliding in a rush that left me panting.

“Such a naughty little minx,” he murmured into my ear. “You want me to make you cum.”

“Yes, please,” I breathed, the ache between my legs pulsing with need.

“You dirty, dirty woman,” he hummed, drawing out each syllable. “You want my hard cock splitting you open, pounding into your tight, wet pussy until you’re nothing but a breeding ground for my seed, don’t you?” His words were a filthy whisper, his breath hot against my neck, my core convulsing in response.

We had discussed not using protection, knowing the chances were slim but not impossible. The lingering risk of becoming pregnant—not by any stranger, but by him—fueled my raw desire, making the forbidden feel even more electrifying.

“Oh yes,” I moaned, my voice thick with need. “I want your cock, every inch of it, me hard.”

His hand firmly pressed against my back, guiding me to lean forward, and I complied, my breasts pressing against the soft sheets of the bed. I heard the sound of his zipper, knowing what was about to happen. I arched my back, offering myself to him, my body ready and willing.

“Please, fuck me,” I begged, my voice raw.

His hands gripped my hips, fingers digging into my flesh, as if to brand me with his possession.

“You’re going to take it all,” he groaned.

A guttural moan escaped my lips, a testament to the scorching heat between my thighs. The wetness there throbbed with a hunger so intense it bordered on agony. I squirmed, my body instinctively seeking relief from the relentless pulse of desire that consumed me.

“Please, I need your cock inside me now,” I pleaded, my voice rough with desperation.

He chuckled darkly. “So eager for me, aren’t you?”

My entire being became a conduit for the electric sensation where our bodies met—his bare cock, thick and throbbing, pressing insistently against my moist, needy core. The pleasurable stretch of his hardness inside me was so intense that every nerve ending seemed to be alive and screaming for relief.

“Damn, you’re soaked.” His voice was thick with lust. “You really want it bad.”

With calculated slowness, he teased me, rubbing the tip of his cock against my sensitive clit, spreading my wetness all over my swollen folds. His breath quickened, his selfcontrol slipping as he hovered on the edge of plunging into me, both of us craving the release that was so close.

“Please…” I begged, my voice barely a whisper as I pushed my hips backward, my vaginal muscles clenching and releasing, desperate for the allencompassing sensation of being filled by his rigid length.

With a feral growl, he surrendered to the primal force that bound us, driving himself into me with untamed ferocity, the sensation of being impaled by his length stealing my breath away. The initial shock of his forceful penetration, a delicate dance between pleasure and pain, swiftly transformed into delicious ache as he began to move.

My body embraced the intrusion, my core tightening around his rigid flesh, a willing captive to the overwhelming sensation of his control. Each thrust ignited a wildfire inside me, a relentless surge of need that consumed every thought, leaving me desperate for more—more of his raw strength, more of the unrestrained passion, more of him, until nothing else existed.

His hips moved with a fierce rhythm, each thrust flooding me with waves of intoxicating heat. The sensation of being filled so deeply after months of unmet desire was almost too much to bear. The danger of our encounter, the forbidden thrill of it, made every second more intense, more exhilarating.

“That’s it, babe. Let me hear you scream,” he grunted. “Tell me how much you love being fucked by me.”

A shiver of pure pleasure coursed through my body as I arched my back, urging him deeper. “I love it,” I panted. “My husband could never fuck me like this. He’s always so gentle, treating me like fragile glass. But you… you make me feel alive.”

My vaginal walls convulsing around him, craving his hot, creamy essence. His unapologetic primal movements shattered all sense of reason, dragging me deeper into a chaotic storm of untamed lust.

“Faster,” I cried out, my inhibitions stripped bare. “Harder! Fuck me harder!”

Moans and gasps filled the air as skin slapped against skin, his hips slamming against mine, relentless and fierce. I matched his rhythm, thrust for thrust, our flesh a blur of pleasure.

As the sound of a car pulling into the driveway echoed through the house, my eyes widened, a rush of fear and excitement flooding me.

“Don’t stop, please.” My voice was filled with desperation. “Even if my husband walks in.”

He pounded into me with intensified ferocity. “You’re mine,” he growled.

“Cum inside me,” I begged, my voice breathless. “Fill me. Make me yours.”

Each rough thrust rippled through my body, and with each deep penetration, I gave in a little more, lost in the forbidden pleasure that consumed us both.

Then, with one final, deep plunge, he unleashed his hot, sticky load inside me, marking me as his. My pussy gripped his cock tightly, drawing his seed deeper as my orgasm exploded, spasming in a wild frenzy of ecstasy.

I inhaled sharply, holding my breath, each pulse and throb inside me pushing the pleasure to the brink of insanity as I fought to hold onto every sensation, desperate for it to last forever.

The sound of the front door opening startled us, causing him to pull out abruptly, my walls clenching in a futile attempt to hold onto him.

My body still quivered as he uncuffed me, and I collapsed onto the bed, every muscle loose and spent. He kicked the torn lingerie under the bed, then swiftly grabbed the knife from the floor. The sound of the door clicking shut downstairs made us both freeze for a moment.

He moved swiftly to the window. Escaping from the second floor seemed insane, but just before he slipped out, he paused, locking eyes with me. A mischievous smile tugged at his lips, followed by a wink, and then he was gone.

I lay there, sated, wondering if I’d ever truly know who he was.

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