Weekend Gone Wrong –

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#BDSM #Group #Mature #Rape

By Hellblazer00009

Clarissa Morgen, the young, beautiful private investigator is chilling on her weekend. Will she have a relaxing one?

Clarissa Morgen groaned softly as she stretched her curvaceous body across the bed.

The digital clock on her nightstand blinked 5:00 PM, the warm golden light of the setting sun filtering in through the blinds.

Her limbs felt heavy from inactivity, but the long week had drained her more than she realized.

It was Sunday, and her office was closed, thankfully.

Running her own private investigation agency was a rewarding job but taxing.

At 27, she was still young, sharp, and strikingly beautiful, though the grueling hours often left her exhausted.

Her job didn’t allow her much time for anything else—social life, relationships, and even hobbies had to take a backseat.

The last few days had been tough, and she had promised herself this weekend was for her.

She had spent the entire weekend curled up in her bed, mindlessly binging her favorite Netflix shows.

The usual excitement of unraveling a mystery or chasing down leads was replaced with the familiar comfort of fictional drama.

Clarissa had zoned out so much that she lost track of time.

Now, sprawled lazily across her bed, she had just finished the latest episode.

She sighed deeply, feeling the chill from the air conditioning seeping through her white sleeveless shirt.

It sent a shiver down her spine, causing her nipples to harden beneath the fabric.

She hadn’t even bothered with a bra today; it was one of the few luxuries she allowed herself on her rare days off.

As she lay there, eyes half-closed, her mind began to wander.

Though the past two days had been a rare retreat from the chaos of her job, the darker side of her world, the one filled with secrets and lies, was never far from her thoughts.

She knew that tomorrow, she’d have to dive back into it.

But for now, she allowed herself to drift, soaking in the silence of her sanctuary.

Clarissa stretched one more time, her muscles still stiff from a day of lounging.

“I need to get out,” she muttered to herself. She could feel the restlessness building up inside her.

After spending nearly two full days lying around, her body craved movement and activity.

She sat up on the edge of the bed, running her hands through her long, blonde hair.

The sky outside had taken on a warm, orange hue as the sun dipped lower, making it the perfect time for a walk in the park.

The late afternoon air would be cooler, and the fading sunlight cast long shadows across the streets.

“A walk sounds good,” she thought, already imagining the peacefulness of the park at this hour.

As she stood and stretched once more, another thought crossed her mind, making her lips curl into a smile—her favorite taco truck parked by the edge of the park.

The memory of their spicy, flavorful tacos was enough to make her stomach growl in anticipation.

Clarissa stood in front of the mirror, her reflection illuminated by the soft evening light creeping in from the window.

She slid off her cotton shorts, letting them fall to the floor, leaving her in just her black panties.

Slowly, she peeled off her shirt, exposing her bare skin to the cool air as it brushed over her.

She stared at her body, topless, taking a moment to admire herself.

Her thighs were long, smooth, and shapely—strong from years of keeping herself fit.

Her breasts, round and firm, stood high on her chest.

She had always been proud of her body, aware of the power it gave her, especially in her line of work.

She smiled slightly, thinking of the times when a simple glimpse of cleavage had done wonders during her investigations.

Men, caught off guard by her beauty, would loosen their tongues and reveal things they wouldn’t have otherwise.

She had learned to use their weakness to her advantage, a weapon she could rely on when necessary.

But as quickly as those thoughts came, they were chased away by something darker, a memory that made her stomach twist.

She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly at her reflection, as that one night clawed its way back into her consciousness.

It was a night that still haunted her. She had been deep in an investigation, following a lead that should have been routine.

But instead, she was grabbed from behind, a rag soaked in chloroform pressed over her face, stealing her breath and consciousness.

She remembered the terrifying sensation of being dragged into a van, the darkness swallowing her as her mind slipped away.

She flinched, the ghost of that night still lingering in her muscles.

Hands—unwanted, violating—had torn her shirt open and discarded her bra.

The hands groped her breasts and squeezed them mercilessly as she faded into the fog of unconsciousness.

When she had finally woken up, she was lying on a floor of an abandoned warehouse, completely naked, marred by bruises and bite-marks on her breasts.

The memory sent a chill down her spine, but Clarissa shook her head. Not today, she thought.

She couldn’t let it ruin her moment. It was a weekend, her time to relax, and she had already promised herself that today would be about peace.

She needed to push those memories back to where they belonged—locked deep in the recesses of her mind.

Taking a deep breath, she turned away from the mirror, determined to enjoy the rest of her day.

The park awaited her, and more importantly, so did the taco truck.

Clarissa reached into her closet, running her fingers across the fabrics until she found what she was looking for.

She pulled out a black bra, the perfect match for her panties, and slipped it on, adjusting the straps until it fit snugly.

Next, she grabbed a pair of very short denim shorts, sliding them over her hips before reaching for a white tank top.

The outfit was simple but flattering, perfect for a casual evening stroll.

Standing in front of the mirror once more, she grabbed a brush and began combing through her long, blonde hair, taming it into soft waves that framed her face.

She then reached for her lipstick, a soft pink shade, and applied it carefully, adding just enough color to make her lips pop.

Satisfied with her reflection, she gave herself one last look—sharp, confident, and ready.

With her purse slung over her shoulder, Clarissa headed toward the door.

The apartment was quiet as she locked up behind her, the cool air from the hallway hitting her skin as she stepped outside.

She took a deep breath, the city buzzing with life as she descended the stairs, ready to leave behind the dark memories, if only for a little while.

Her thoughts shifted back to the evening ahead. The park, the walk, and the tacos. It was time to enjoy herself.

*********************************************************

Carlos wiped the sweat from his brow as he handed out another order of tacos to a waiting customer.

The line in front of his truck snaked long through the park, the bustling crowd never seeming to thin out.

His cousins, Luis, and Diego were hard at work behind him, quickly prepping taco orders while Carlos managed the payments and handed out the food.

The day was hot, and the afternoon sun, though beginning to set, still beat down on them.

Carlos groaned inwardly as he checked the line again, noticing that it had barely moved.

It was exhausting, sure—but business was booming, and that was what mattered. Still, a break would have been nice.

As he turned back toward the truck, something in the crowd caught his attention.

His heart gave a little leap when he saw a familiar blonde walking toward him. Clarissa Morgen.

He recognized her immediately, one of his frequent customers—and, if he was being honest with himself, his secret crush.

She was heading straight for him, her blonde hair flowing in soft waves around her shoulders.

He quickly waved, calling out her name with a smile. “Clarissa! Hey!”

Clarissa spotted him and smiled brightly, picking up her pace into a light jog.

“Carlos! Hi!” she called back, her voice carrying easily over the noise of the park.

As she jogged closer, Carlos’ eyes—despite himself—were drawn to her chest, the light bounce of her breasts beneath the tight tank top catching his attention.

He quickly glanced away, trying to stay professional, but couldn’t help feeling a little flustered.

Clarissa reached the truck, her face slightly flushed but glowing as always.

“Busy afternoon today, eh?” she greeted him, her tone casual but playful.

Carlos nodded, still trying to recover his composure.

“You have no idea. Non-stop since we opened.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he gestured toward the long line. “But, hey, good for business, right?”

“Definitely,” Clarissa replied, flashing him a grin. “You look like you’re handling it well.”

“Thanks,” Carlos said, though he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. “So, the usual?”

“You know it,” Clarissa said with a wink. “One taco with everything.”

Carlos couldn’t help but let his eyes drift downward.

From his elevated position inside the truck, he had a perfect view of Clarissa’s cleavage, framed by the low-cut neckline of her tight tank top.

Her breasts were round and full, straining against the fabric of her black bra, and for a moment, he lost himself in the sight.

The soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed stirred something deep inside him, something he knew he shouldn’t be thinking about right now.

God, just one touch, he thought, the image burning in his mind. One squeeze.

He quickly snapped his attention back to the task at hand, but the thought lingered in the back of his mind, making it hard to focus.

Outside, the line of customers stretched long, people impatiently waiting for their food orders, but none of that seemed to matter at the moment.

Carlos glanced back down at Clarissa, standing just below him, her posture relaxed but her body language somehow radiating confidence, like she knew exactly what kind of effect she had on him.

Leaning forward slightly, he lowered his voice.

“Hey,” he said, signaling for her to come closer, his eyes flicking up to meet hers.

“Why don’t you come inside the truck and wait? I’ll sneak your order in and make it ahead of everyone else’s.”

Clarissa’s lips curled into a sly grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

She tapped his arm playfully, her fingers lingering a bit longer than necessary.

“You’re the best, Carlos,” she said, her tone full of playful gratitude.

Without hesitation, she circled around the truck, her movements fluid, and within seconds, she was climbing in through the back door.

The moment she stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted.

The food truck was small and cramped, and with Clarissa now standing so close to him, it felt even more confined.

The warm scent of her perfume mixed with the greasy aroma of sizzling burgers, creating a strange, intoxicating blend.

She leaned against the counter, casually resting one arm on top of it while the other hung loosely by her side.

Her tank top dipped even lower now that she was inside, the curve of her breasts more pronounced, her skin smooth and inviting.

“You really are a lifesaver,” she teased, her voice low and smooth, her eyes locked on his.

There was a hint of mischief in her smile, a silent acknowledgment of the tension that hung in the air between them.

Carlos could feel his pulse quicken, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for a spatula.

“Yeah, no problem,” he mumbled, trying to keep his cool but failing miserably.

His eyes darted down to the grill, focusing on flipping a patty, but his mind was elsewhere—focused entirely on the woman standing so close to him, her body brushing against his whenever she moved.

Clarissa’s eyes followed his movements, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

“So,” she said, leaning a little closer, her voice teasing, “what are you sneaking me today, Chef?”

Her playful tone, combined with the way she arched her back slightly, pushing her chest forward, made it impossible for Carlos to think straight.

He could feel the heat rising in his face, his gaze flicking down again, catching a glimpse of her cleavage before he quickly looked away.

“Uh, whatever you want,” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly.

He grabbed a to-go container and started throwing together her order, his hands moving automatically, but his mind was completely focused on her.

The truck felt smaller by the second, the air thick with an unspoken tension that seemed to pulse between them.

Clarissa leaned back slightly, watching him with amusement, her grin never fading. “I’ll take whatever you’ve got cooking,” she said, winking at him, her voice dripping with innuendo.

Carlos nodded, unable to form a coherent response.

His hands continued to work, but his thoughts were a tangled mess of desire and restraint.

Clarissa stood there, so close, so tempting, her every movement deliberate and charged with a kind of energy that made it harder for him to think clearly.

Carlos’ cousins, Louis and Diego, immediately noticed Clarissa stepping inside the truck.

Their faces lit up, and they greeted her with their usual warmth and enthusiasm.

“Hey, girl! Looking hot as ever!” Louis called out, flashing her a playful grin.

His eyes briefly flickered down to her legs, not hiding his admiration.

Clarissa grinned back, shaking her head at his predictable comment.

“You always know how to make a girl feel good, Louis,” she teased, giving him a wink.

Diego let out a whistle as he flipped a burger on the grill.

“Damn, Clarissa, come sit down! There’s a chair over here,” he said, motioning to the small, worn-out chair beside the storage cabinet.

“Make yourself comfortable.”

With a chuckle, Clarissa made her way over, sitting down gracefully.

“You guys always know how to treat a lady, huh?” she quipped, crossing one leg over the other, her denim shorts riding up just slightly, revealing more of her smooth thighs.

Diego grinned at her, wiping his hands on a towel.

“You know it, chica. Today’s been rough—customers nonstop. But now that you’re here, a beautiful woman watching us work, I suddenly feel like I could go all night!” He exaggerated the statement, raising his eyebrows for effect.

Clarissa laughed, her shoulders shaking. “Oh, please, Diego. Don’t work too hard on my account!” she joked, knowing full well these men were harmless and their flirtations were all in good fun.

She’d gotten used to their sweet but playful banter over the years.

As the conversation continued, Carlos worked quietly, trying to focus on finishing Clarissa’s order.

But when he turned around to hand it to her, he nearly froze.

She was sitting back in the chair, her legs crossed, and his eyes were drawn to her thighs—smooth, firm, and perfectly shaped. He swallowed hard, his mind wandering. If I could just run my hands along those thighs… he thought, his heart racing.

“Here you go,” Carlos said, his voice a little shakier than he intended as he handed over the food.

“Thanks, Carlos,” Clarissa said with a smile, pulling a few bills out of her pocket and placing them in his hand. “You always take care of me.”

Louis smirked from behind the grill. “Yeah, Carlos, you sure know how to treat the ladies, huh?” he teased, elbowing his cousin lightly in the ribs.

Carlos blushed, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just do my job,” he mumbled, trying to brush it off.

Clarissa chuckled, standing up and stretching a bit.

“Well, keep it up, boys. You’re doing great,” she said, turning to head out the door. “I’ll see you all later.”

As she stepped out of the truck, her hips swaying naturally, the men couldn’t help but ogle her.

Her denim shorts hugged her curves perfectly, and as she moved, the outline of her panties was faintly visible beneath the fabric, tracing her thick, round figure. Louis let out a low whistle.

“Damn, Clarissa’s lookin’ fine today,” Louis muttered, nudging Diego.

“Always,” Diego agreed, his eyes still glued to her as she closed the door behind her.

Carlos stood there for a moment, watching her leave, feeling his heart pound in his chest.

Then, with a deep breath, he turned back to the grill and got back to work.

The truck returned to its usual pace, the sizzling of the grill filling the air as the three men refocused on their jobs—though the image of Clarissa still lingered in Carlos’ mind.

*************************************************

The watch on Clarissa’s wrist showed 6:20 p.m.

The soft glow of the park’s lampposts lit up the pathways, their golden light casting long shadows across the grass.

The park was nearly empty now, with only a few stragglers lingering about, enjoying the last moments of daylight.

Clarissa sat on a bench at the far end of the park, a spot she liked because it offered a wide view of the entire area.

From here, she could see the winding pathways, the clusters of trees, and the occasional couple strolling hand in hand.

The distant sound of a dog barking mixed with the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze, but otherwise, it was quiet—just the way she preferred it.

Her legs were crossed, and the cuff of her denim shorts had ridden up, exposing a generous amount of her smooth, shapely thighs.

She leaned back against the bench, stretching her arms out casually, completely at ease in the peaceful evening.

With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the empty plastic wrapper from her tacos toward the garbage bin a few feet in front of her.

It sailed through the air and landed perfectly inside the can.

She grinned, cheering herself on internally at the flawless shot.

Her eyes scanned the park again, noting the few remaining people.

There was something soothing about this quiet hour, the transition between day and night, when most people had left and the park took on an almost dreamlike stillness.

This was her favorite time to be here—alone with her thoughts, watching the world slow down around her.

Clarissa leaned back on the bench, staring up at the night sky.

The stars twinkled brightly, scattered across the dark canvas like tiny diamonds.

It was one of those rare, clear nights where every constellation seemed visible, and she found herself lost in the beauty of it all.

The cold evening wind brushed against her blonde hair, causing her front bangs to lift slightly, revealing her smooth, pale forehead.

She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the breeze caress her skin, letting the tranquility of the night wash over her.

But her peaceful reverie was abruptly shattered when she heard a voice, loud and frantic, shouting in the distance.

Her eyes snapped open, and she quickly turned toward the direction of the noise.

She squinted in the dim light, scanning the park, and then she saw him—Carlos, running toward her, his movements frantic, staggering as if he were out of breath.

He was clutching his side, clearly exhausted, but still pushing himself forward, his face flushed with urgency.

Without thinking, Clarissa sprang to her feet.

Her heart raced as she dashed toward him, her legs carrying her swiftly across the park.

“Carlos!” she called out, her voice laced with concern.

She closed the distance between them in seconds, her mind racing with questions.

What had happened? Why was he running like that?

As she neared him, she could see the strain on his face, and her worry deepened.

Carlos collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.

His entire body was drenched in sweat, his shirt clinging tightly to his slightly overweight frame, outlining the strain from his sprint.

He heaved, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath.

Clarissa reached him in seconds, immediately crouching beside him.

Her hand instinctively rested on his shoulder, her brow furrowed in concern. “Carlos, what happened?” she asked, her voice steady but filled with worry.

Before he could answer, Carlos’s eyes were drawn downward—her proximity gave him another glimpse of her cleavage.

Her breasts were pressed together from how she crouched, and for a brief moment, his gaze caught a glimpse of her pink nipple slipping out from the edge of her black bra.

His breath hitched, not from exhaustion this time but from the sight.

A surge of arousal hit him, but he quickly shook it off. He had more important things to focus on right now.

Struggling to find his voice, Carlos managed to reply in broken sentences between gasps, still trying to steady his breath. “Two men… they took… the cash box…….” he panted, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Clarissa’s eyes widened at his words. “What? Where?” she asked, her voice rising slightly with urgency.

Carlos pointed weakly ahead of him, toward the park’s most secluded area.

Clarissa followed his gesture, squinting in the dim light.

In the distance, she spotted two figures, barely visible in the darkness, running away.

One of them was clutching a metal briefcase—the cash box from the truck.

Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the two men.

“Stay here,” she said, standing up straight, her muscles tense with determination.

Clarissa bolted after the two men, her athletic legs propelling her forward with remarkable speed.

Her breathing was steady as her feet pounded against the pavement, the quiet park suddenly alive with the sound of her pursuit.

The cold wind whipped past her, but she barely noticed, her focus locked entirely on the figures ahead.

“Stop!” she shouted, her voice echoing through the empty park.

She could feel herself closing the distance, her pace quick and relentless, but they were still too far for her to reach.

The two men glanced over their shoulders, their faces masked with panic, and they veered sharply to the left, heading toward the park’s maintenance area.

Clarissa saw them make the turn, her legs still pumping with adrenaline.

She was gaining on them, but they were still ahead, just out of reach.

Her mind raced as she calculated her next move, determined not to let them escape.

Clarissa pushed herself harder, her legs burning with effort as she picked up speed.

The cold air stung her lungs, but she ignored it, her focus narrowing on the fleeing robbers.

She reached the turn where they had disappeared, her shoes skidding slightly on the dirt as she pivoted around the corner.

In front of her was a tall wire fence, rusted and towering. One of the robbers was already halfway up, his hands gripping the metal tightly as he climbed.

Clarissa’s eyes quickly scanned him—he wasn’t the one holding the briefcase. The man with the money had already disappeared somewhere beyond the fence.

“Get off the fence!” Clarissa shouted, her voice commanding and sharp.

Without wasting a second, she sprinted toward the robber, closing the gap between them.

He glanced down at her in panic, his foot scrambling for leverage to make the final push over the top.

But before he could leap to the other side, Clarissa reached him. Her hands shot out and grabbed his leg, yanking him down with a forceful tug.

The man let out a startled yelp as his grip faltered, and he tumbled back to the ground with a heavy thud.

Clarissa didn’t waste a second. As soon as the man hit the ground, she was on top of him, her knee pressing into his back with unforgiving force.

His face was shoved into the dirt as he struggled beneath her, but she grabbed his right arm and yanked it behind him, twisting it to the point of pain.

“Where’s your buddy?” she asked, her tone calm but laced with arrogance.

“The one with the briefcase?”

The man grunted, trying to wriggle out from under her, but he was pinned too tightly. “Get off me, bitch!” he growled.

Clarissa smirked, clearly unimpressed by his defiance.

“Oh, please,” she said, tightening her grip and pulling his arm further back, just enough to make him wince.

“You really think you’re in a position to make demands?” She leaned in, her voice dripping with condescension.

“I could break this arm with one good twist. So why don’t you save yourself the trouble and tell me where he went?”

“Fuck off!” he spat through clenched teeth, still fighting her hold.

Clarissa let out a soft, mocking laugh.

“You’ve got some balls,” she said, sounding almost amused.

Then, without warning, she pulled his arm back further, making him scream.

“But you’re not that bright, are you?” she added, her voice sharp and taunting.

“Let me spell it out for you—either you tell me what I want to know, or you’re gonna be leaving here with a broken arm. And trust me, I won’t lose a wink of sleep over it.”

The man groaned, his body jerking beneath her as the pain became too much. “Okay! Okay!” he gasped, his voice strained. “Just stop!”

Clarissa raised an eyebrow, looking down at him with a smug smile. “That’s more like it. Now, where did he go?”

Before Clarissa could press the man for more details, a voice from behind her cut through the silence, laced with venom. “Here I am, bitch.”

Instinctively, she started to turn toward the voice, but before she could fully react, strong hands grabbed her from behind.

A damp cloth was forcefully clamped over her mouth and nose.

Clarissa gasped in surprise, her eyes widening in alarm.

“HHHMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!” Her voice came out as muffled, but it was too late—she had already inhaled.

A sharp, pungent smell hit her nostrils, unmistakable and all too familiar. Chloroform.

Her muscles tensed as she struggled to pull the hand away from her face, but the grip was iron-tight.

Her heart raced as she kicked and flailed, her athletic strength no match for the surprise attack.

Desperately, she clawed at the arm holding her, trying to pry it off, but the world around her began to blur as the chloroform started taking effect.

Clarissa’s fading consciousness registered the voice of the man behind her, cold and commanding.

“Grab her legs!” he barked, and his accomplice didn’t hesitate.

She felt hands clamp around her ankles, rough and forceful.

Her legs, once thrashing with defiance, were now forced together and pinned to the cold ground.

The pressure against her limbs was unrelenting, making it impossible for her to kick free.

Behind her, the man holding the chloroform rag tightened his grip.

The damp cloth was pressed even harder against her face, sealing off any chance of fresh air.

“HMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPHHHH!!!!!! NNNNNNNGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! HHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMHHHH!!!!!!!” Clarissa’s muffled cries were swallowed by the rag, her struggles growing more desperate as the pungent chemical fumes filled her lungs.

Her vision swam, the world around her spinning as she clawed at the hands restraining her, her fingers weakly grasping at the man’s arms, but it was futile.

Her strength was ebbing away, her once powerful movements reduced to sluggish, frantic attempts to break free.

“Shhh, just let it happen,” the man behind her whispered mockingly, his voice dark with satisfaction.

“Nnnnnngggghhhhhhhhhhh………..” Clarissa groaned, her head spinning as the chloroform worked its way deeper into her system.

Her limbs felt heavy, as though they were no longer hers to control.

She tried to focus, tried to fight through the haze clouding her mind, but every breath she took only dragged her further into the abyss.

“Hhhhhhmmmmmhhhhhh……… nnnnnhhhhh…… hhhmmmmmppppp……” Clarissa’s muffled moans grew weaker, barely escaping from beneath the damp chloroform-soaked rag pressed against her face.

The world around her spun, her vision swimming in and out of focus, the park’s dim lights transforming into indistinct orbs that flickered like dying stars.

Dizziness clawed at her, each involuntary breath she took drawing in more of the sickly-sweet fumes that threatened to suffocate her senses.

Her head felt heavy, as if weighed down by a dark fog that clouded her thoughts.

Desperation gripped her mind, an all-too-familiar sense of déjà vu tightening around her throat like a noose.

She had been here before, trapped in this waking nightmare.

Memories flashed in rapid succession, each one a shard of terror—being captured, chloroformed, and rendered helpless.

The van, the cold metal interior, the hands that had roamed over her body, groping her breasts with cruel intent while laughter echoed around her like a sinister chorus.

The fear, the helplessness, it all crashed over her in waves, flooding her mind and wrapping around her like a vice, squeezing tighter with every breath.

“No… not again,” she thought, panic rising like bile in her throat, threatening to choke her.

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to hold her breath, willing her body to defy the chemical invasion.

Her chest tightened painfully, her lungs screamed for air, but she resisted, fighting against the tide of darkness that beckoned her to surrender.

But her body, already weakened by the chloroform, was betraying her.

The darkness continued to creep in, her vision narrowing as shadows danced at the edges of her consciousness.

Her heart pounded like a war drum in her ears, a frantic rhythm that echoed the desperation of her plight.

Each passing moment felt like an eternity, the struggle against the inevitable growing fainter with every shallow breath.

Her lungs burned, a fire igniting within her chest as the desperate need for oxygen became unbearable.

With a shuddering gasp, Clarissa’s body finally gave in, drawing in a deep, involuntary breath.

The chloroform hit her full force, a tidal wave of pungent fumes crashing over her senses, drowning out her remaining thoughts.

“Mmmmmhhhhh…… nnnnggghhhh…… hhmmmmmmppphhh……” Her moan of protest was barely audible, a pitiful sound swallowed by the night, as her limbs twitched and trembled, succumbing to the drug that flooded her system.

Viktor knelt on the grassy ground, his arms wrapped around the curvaceous blonde woman, his right hand clamping the chloroformed rag tightly against her face.

He noticed her body tense as she valiantly held her breath, but soon he heard the telltale sound of her lungs giving out, gasping desperately for air.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he goaded her, his voice a sultry whisper, dripping with mock encouragement. “Just keep breathing the chloroform in. You’re doing a good job. Surrender to it. It’ll feel so good to let go.”

He looked down, his gaze fixating on her stunning face.

Her blue eyes, once vibrant with life, began to roll back, pupils dilating as the drowsiness took hold, her consciousness slipping further into the abyss.

Viktor’s gaze moved lower, tracing the contours of her body until he reached the generous swell of her cleavage spilling out from her tank top.

The black lace of her bra was the only barrier between her breasts and full exposure, a sight that thrilled him in the dim light.

“Oh, that’s a nice rack you got there,” Viktor breathed, a sinister grin spreading across his lips.

“I bet you get all the attention with those.”

He leaned in closer, pressing the cloth more firmly against her face, reveling in the way she squirmed beneath him.

“Don’t fight it, darling,” he continued, his voice low and perverse. “Just breathe. I promise you’ll feel a weight lifted once you stop struggling. Besides, wouldn’t you rather be here with me than out there in that noisy park?”

As her struggles weakened, he pressed on, his voice laced with perversion.

“You know, I’ve always had a thing for blondes like you. So soft, so helpless. It’s like a dream come true to have you right here.”

He laughed softly, the sound dark and twisted, echoing in the stillness of the park.

“Just a little longer, honey,” he taunted, watching the way her expression shifted from confusion to vulnerability.

“Soon, you won’t even remember any of this. Just let the darkness take you. Embrace it.”

Her breaths became shallower, her body growing heavy beneath him.

Viktor’s heart raced with exhilaration, each moment feeding his twisted desires. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice a dark caress. “You’re doing so well. Just give in to the sweet release.”

Viktor noticed that Clarissa’s struggles were becoming weaker, her once desperate clawing at his arms fading into soft, aimless gestures.

Her hands, once fierce, now felt light as they slipped against his skin, surrendering to the pull of the chloroform.

He stared deep into her eyes, captivated by the way they rolled back toward her eyelids.

The look of fear and desperation was still there, but it was quickly being replaced by a dreamy glaze. Each flutter of her lashes sent a thrill through him.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered in a husky voice, drawing closer. “Just keep breathing. You’re doing such a good job for me. Let it wash over you.”

Her muffled whimpers escaped beneath the cloth, a soft, pitiful sound that only fueled his desire. “Hhhhmmmm… mmmphhh…” she moaned, the sound barely making it past the damp material.

Viktor leaned in, savoring the moment.

“You sound so sweet like that. Just think of how nice it will be to surrender completely, to leave all your worries behind. You don’t need to fight me. Just let go. You know you want to,” he cooed, his voice a sickly-sweet lullaby.

He pressed the cloth more firmly against her face, eliciting another muffled cry from her lips.

“Just a little longer, and you’ll be mine,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

“Can’t you feel it? The way your body wants to give in? You’re so beautiful like this, on the edge of bliss.”

Her eyes flickered, the vibrancy slowly fading, and her soft moans grew weaker. “Hhhh… mmmnnn… hhhhmmmmmmppp…..” she protested, but the sound was a mere whisper, swallowed by the dark fog that enveloped her mind.

“Such a pretty girl, so delicate,” he breathed, letting his gaze drift lower, lingering on her beautiful and shapely thighs.

“Just imagine the things we can do together once you stop fighting. You’ll love it, I promise.”

The muffled sounds of her struggle became fainter, punctuated by soft whimpers that tugged at Viktor’s twisted satisfaction.

“That’s right, my little captive. Just breathe it in,” he whispered, watching her slip further away. “Soon, you won’t even remember why you were afraid.”

Viktor leaned in closer, his breath hot against Clarissa’s ear, watching with a twisted sense of satisfaction as she grew weaker, the chloroform working its insidious magic.

An indulgent thrill coursed through him, and he couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle.

“Your tits look amazing,” he said, letting his gaze linger on her cleavage, a predatory grin spreading across his face. “I bet they feel just as good. Maybe it’s time I had a feel.”

With a deliberate slowness, he clamped the chloroformed cloth harder over her mouth and nose. “Just breathe it in, sweetheart,” he murmured, the mock tenderness in his voice dripping with malice.

“It’ll only hurt for a moment.”

His free hand snaked inside the neckline of her tank top, sliding beneath her black bra until he cupped her right breast.

A rush of delight washed over him as he felt the warmth of her skin. “Oh, wow,” he whispered, his voice low and sultry. “Your tits even more perfect than I imagined. So fucking soft and firm.”

He squeezed her breast gently, reveling in the sensation. “I could do this all night. You’re boobs really filling my palm nicely?”

He pressed his lips closer to her ear, tauntingly whispering, “How does it feel to have your tits squeezed?”

But amid the haze of her drugged stupor, a flicker of defiance ignited within Clarissa. The sensation of his hand gripping her breast sent a shock through her system, awakening something primal and fierce.

With a sudden burst of strength, she began to struggle wildly against him.

“HHHHHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMPHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!” Clarissa squirmed when she felt her breast being squeezed.

Viktor’s laughter echoed in the darkness as Clarissa thrashed against him, her desperation feeding his sadistic thrill.

“Oh, come on now, sweetheart,” he mocked, a twisted smile spreading across his face. “Calm down. Just breathe in a little more of this.”

He pressed the chloroform-soaked cloth tighter against her face, forcing her to inhale deeper. “You’ll be unconscious in no time. Just think of it as a little nap.”

Clarissa felt a rising panic as she struggled against him, muffled moans escaping her lips.

“Mmmph……… Nnnnghhhhhh….. hmmmmmmhhhhh…..” Her voice was barely audible, the words distorted by the fabric clamped over her mouth.

She fought against the fog creeping into her mind, the chemical scent wrapping around her like a suffocating blanket.

With each breath, her strength began to fade again, slipping away as quickly as it had surged.

“See?” Viktor said, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he watched her resolve wane.

“You’re already succumbing to it. Just let it take you. It’ll all be over soon.” He relished the sight of her fear, the way her body twisted beneath his hold.

“Hmmmmmhhhhh……. mmmmmppphhhhh……” Clarissa’s muffled cries grew weaker as she struggled, her heart racing, trying to fight against the heavy weight pulling her under.

She wanted to scream, to resist, but the chloroform’s grip tightened around her, dragging her deeper into the abyss.

Each gasp for air pulled her further into a void of darkness, her muffled moans growing weaker.

Viktor’s grin widened as he pressed in close, his breath hot against Clarissa’s ear.

“Not so tough now, huh?” he sneered, squeezing her breast with slow, deliberate force, savoring every second. “What happened to all that fight? Look at look at you. Helpless. Your tits getting groped and squeezed by the man chloroforming you.”

His words dripped with venomous satisfaction, a sadistic thrill surging through him. He reveled in her weakening struggle, feeling her body falter beneath his touch.

Markus, pinning her legs down, glanced over and noticed Viktor’s twisted enjoyment.

A dark chuckle escaped him as he watched. ““You enjoying yourself a little too much, buddy?” Markus said, his voice thick with a sick excitement.

“I’m starting to get real tempted here.” His gaze lingered on her legs—those perfect, toned legs thighs had been kicking against his hold with less and less force.

Viktor smirked. “She’s almost out,” he said, pushing the chloroform cloth harder against her face, the mockery in his tone growing more sinister.

“Just a little more, sweetheart. It’ll all be over soon.” His grip on her breast tightened as her body weakened further, the control slipping from her completely.

He licked his lips, enjoying every second of her fading consciousness.

Markus, unable to resist any longer, released his hold on her legs, his hands trembling with anticipation.

“Look at these thighs, man,” he muttered, sliding his palms onto Clarissa’s thighs, savoring the feel of her smooth, shapely skin beneath his fingers.

“Been dying to get my hands on these since I pinned her down.” His fingers moved slowly, almost reverently, up and down her thighs, feeling the warmth and softness beneath them.

He groaned in twisted pleasure, his hands gliding over her thighs with obscene slowness, his fingers lingering as he traced the lines of her legs.

“These are so damn smooth, bitch.” Markus goaded Clarissa; his voice filled with perverted admiration.

“Feels even better than I imagined.” He kept rubbing his palms over her thighs, up and down, with a sick enjoyment, relishing in her vulnerability.

Markus began caressing Clarissa’s thighs with deliberate, lingering movements, sliding his palms up and down the length of her legs.

The feel of her skin beneath his hands sent a rush of depraved pleasure through him.

Her thighs were so soft, yet firm, the kind of thighs that made him shudder with sick excitement.

His fingers trailed over every inch of her, slowly, savoring the experience.

He pressed his palms deeper, moving from her knees up toward her hips, then back down her thighs again, his touch growing more intrusive with each pass.

Markus moaned quietly, his breathing heavy as he explored her thighs, the sensation of her flesh fueling his indulgence.

He let his fingers trace the curve of her thighs, gripping them gently, then squeezing just enough to feel the firmness of her muscles beneath.

“God, Viktor,” he breathed, his voice almost a whimper. “Her thighs… they’re incredible. So fucking smooth.”

His hands slid higher, closer to her hips, before traveling back down again, each motion slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second.

Viktor glanced down, watching Markus’s hands slide up and down Clarissa’s thighs with a perverted grin. “Told you she’d feel amazing,” he muttered, his tone full of dark satisfaction.

“Soft, smooth, perfect.” He pressed the cloth harder over her face, ensuring that each breath she took was thick with chloroform all the time his hand never ceased squeezing her right breast.

Clarissa’s body, now almost limp, could do nothing to resist the vile hands that caressed her thighs and squeezed her breast.

He shifted his grip on her, pressing the chloroform-soaked cloth tighter, her struggles now nothing more than faint, fading movements.

Clarissa’s world grew darker with each breath, their grotesque words and actions pushing her further into a terrifying void she couldn’t escape.

Clarissa’s heart pounded violently against her chest, her breaths growing shallow as the chloroform continued to invade her lungs.

A deep, primal fear took root in her body, making her feel as if the world was closing in around her.

She had fought so hard—tracking the robbers, determined to bring them down—but now, all of that courage, all of that fire that once burned so brightly inside her, had withered away.

She was trapped.

Clarissa’s heart slammed against her chest in a violent rhythm, the panic clawing its way deeper into her every nerve.

Each breath she took was a battle—her lungs unwillingly filling with the sickly sweet scent of chloroform, clouding her mind and stealing away her control.

She could feel the drug tightening its grip around her consciousness, pulling her deeper into a fog she couldn’t escape.

The fire that had driven her, that had burned so brightly when she chased these men through the dark streets, was now nothing but dying embers.

Her bravery, her confidence—it had all crumbled into ashes, replaced by a cold, gnawing dread.

She had thought herself untouchable, but now, as Viktor’s fingers squeezed harder against her breast and Markus’s hands roamed possessively over her thighs, she realized just how wrong she had been.

“Nnnnmmmmmpphhhh…” The sound barely escaped her lips, swallowed by the chloroform-soaked rag.

Her vision swam, the night sky blurring, as she gazed up at Viktor, his face looming above her like a dark, twisted shadow.

His lips curled into a sickening grin, eyes alight with sadistic satisfaction. The more she struggled, the more his grip tightened, fingers squeezing her breast and kneading her nipple with bruising force.

Another wave of dizziness crashed over her, nausea bubbling in the pit of her stomach.

She wanted to resist, to fight the overwhelming weight of unconsciousness bearing down on her, but each breath she took only filled her lungs with more of the drug.

Her body was betraying her. Her strength was fading.

“Nnnnghhh… mmmmpphh…” Clarissa moaned again, her voice barely a whisper, a distant echo of her once fierce resolve.

She could feel her own pulse racing beneath her skin, the headache pounding against her skull, intensifying the sensation of helplessness.

Fear clamped down on her like a vice. It gnawed at her, growing more insistent with every second, until it became the only thing she could feel.

She feared not just the loss of consciousness, but the terrifying unknown that awaited her once it claimed her.

Her gaze flickered, locking onto Viktor’s face once more, trying to focus. His features blurred and shifted, but his twisted smile remained.

His hands continued to grope her, the sensations blurring into a single, terrifying impression. She wanted to cry out, but all that escaped was another long, muffled moan.

“Mmmmmmmmph… mmmph…” Her breath hitched, her body tensing for a final, desperate moment. But it was too late.

The darkness was closing in.

Clarissa’s vision blurred into nothingness as the last remnants of her strength drained from her limbs.

Her head lolled back, her eyes rolling up toward the ceiling, lids fluttering shut.

The sounds of the trees—the men’s laughter, the ragged breaths she struggled to take—faded into a dull, distant hum.

Her body went limp beneath their grasp, her muscles no longer responding to her will.

The last thing she felt was Viktor’s hand squeezing her breast and Markus’s slow, creeping touch on her thighs before she was dragged into the deep, suffocating void of unconsciousness.

***************************************

“She’s out.” Viktor said as he held the chloroformed cloth over Clarissa’s mouth and nose for a little bit longer even after her eyelids fluttered closed, her body falling limp beneath his grip.

He paused for a moment, the thrill of power surging through him, before he finally removed the cloth.

Clarissa’s beautiful face looked serene, almost angelic, as he took in the sight. “Damn, she’s gorgeous,” he murmured, a smirk creeping across his lips.

He continued to squeezed her right breast, letting out a low chuckle.

“Too bad she won’t remember this.”

“About damn time she’s knocked out.” Markus replied, his voice dripping with excitement as he slid his hands up and down Clarissa’s thighs.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her skin.

“Look at her. She’s perfect.”

Viktor nodded, the two men sinking down into the grass beside her, their hands roaming with reckless abandon. “Damn, this bitch’s tits are hot!,” he said, his fingers pinching and fiddling with her nipples as he squeezed her breast.

“Just imagine what we could do if we had more time.” He smirked, his eyes glinting with a twisted delight.

“Maybe we should take turns.”

Markus let out a low, lecherous laugh. “I like the way you think. But we should be quick. I don’t want anyone stumbling on this little party.”

His fingers danced along the curve of Clarissa’s thighs, the thrill of their actions intoxicating him.

“She has no idea what she’s missing.”

The two men reveled in their perverse enjoyment, fingers sliding under the fabric of her clothes, invading her body as if it were theirs to claim.

Viktor leaned in closer, a wicked grin on his face.

“You know, I always wanted to see how a girl like her reacts when she’s fucked. It’s gonna be wild.”

Markus grinned back, his eyes wide with depravity.

“Wild? More like unforgettable. We’re giving her an experience she’ll never recall. A little gift from us to her.”

He leaned back for a moment, taking in the sight of her unconscious body. “You think she’d be this still if she knew what we were doing?”

“Not a chance,” Viktor said, chuckling darkly.

“And that’s the best part. She’s completely at our mercy.” He glanced at the shadows creeping around them, a sense of urgency piercing through his exhilaration.

“But we should get moving before someone catches us. I don’t want this to end with a bad trip.”

Markus nodded, still entranced by Clarissa’s stillness.

He looked over his shoulder, his gaze lingering on Clarissa, who lay unconscious on the grass, her beauty now tainted by their dark intentions.

The moonlight cast a soft glow over her features, highlighting the delicate curve of her jaw and the way her hair fell like a dark veil around her face.

“Stay with her, and with the money” Viktor commanded, a twisted satisfaction evident in his voice.

He moved closer, the scent of chloroform still lingering in the air. “I’ll bring the car around. We need to load her up.”

Markus’s grin widened, a predator relishing its prey.

“Oh, I’d love to keep an eye on her,” he replied, his voice dripping with malice as he settled down on the grass beside her.

His fingers traced an invasive path along Clarissa’s thigh, exploring the smoothness of her skin.

“Just making sure she doesn’t wake up too soon. Wouldn’t want her ruining our little party, now would we?”

Viktor shot him a glare, but there was a flicker of dark amusement in his eyes. “Just make sure she stays out,” he warned, his tone a mixture of irritation and thrill.

“We don’t need any surprises.”

“Relax,” Markus chuckled, leaning back against the grass with an air of false nonchalance.

“She looks so peaceful like this, doesn’t she?” His gaze roamed over her, a sense of ownership swelling within him.

He couldn’t resist the urge to let his fingers linger a moment longer, brushing against her skin as if he were savoring the moment.

*************************************************

“Man, keep it slow!” Viktor barked, clutching the seat as the car swerved violently toward the opposite lane.

The tires screeched against the asphalt, and Marcus yanked the wheel sharply, narrowly avoiding an oncoming car. The blast of its horn echoed behind them, fading into the night.

“Damn it, Marcus!” Viktor snarled. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

“Sorry!” Marcus shot back, his voice cracking under the pressure. “I’m just nervous, okay? What if someone saw us? What if the cops—”

“No one saw anything,” Viktor cut him off, his voice sharp and impatient. “And even if they did, what are they gonna do? They don’t know where we are. Just keep your foot steady and stop driving like a damn lunatic.”

Marcus exhaled shakily, trying to steady his grip on the wheel. “Still, man… this is big. I mean, the money, her… It’s a lot to handle.”

“Yeah,” Viktor said with a dark chuckle, his eyes shifting to the backseat. “Speaking of her…”

Clarissa was slumped against the door, her blonde hair messy and spilling over her face.

The thin straps of her white tank top had slipped slightly off her shoulders, and the hem of her very short denim shorts had ridden up, exposing more of her smooth thighs.

She looked small and defenseless, her steady breathing making her chest rise and fall rhythmically.

Viktor smirked as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his knuckles grazing her cheek. “Look at her,” he murmured. “Not so tough now, huh?”

Marcus glanced into the rearview mirror, his expression uneasy. “You sure she’s still out?”

“She’s out,” Viktor said confidently. “Trust me, she’s not waking up anytime soon.”

He trailed his fingers down the side of her neck, then lower, grazing her bare shoulder. “Not with the dose of chloroform we gave her.”

“You’re getting a little too comfortable back there,” Marcus muttered, his voice tight.

“Relax,” Viktor replied with a grin. “She doesn’t even know we’re here.” His hand moved downward, sliding along the smooth skin of her thigh.

His touch was slow, deliberate, as if savoring every moment. He dragged his fingers up toward the hem of her shorts, then back down to her knee, repeating the motion with practiced ease.

Marcus’s grip on the wheel loosened as he watched through the mirror. His lips twitched into a nervous smile. “She does have nice legs,” he admitted.

“Nice legs?” Viktor laughed softly. “Man, she’s got more than that. Look at her.” He leaned closer, his hand continuing its slow journey up and down her thigh.

“Bet she puts on that attitude just to hide how much she likes the attention. Don’t you, princess?” he said mockingly, his voice low and taunting.

“She’s probably a tease,” Marcus added, his tone darkening. “One of those girls who walks around knowing every guy’s looking at her but acts like she’s too good for any of them.”

“Exactly,” Viktor said, his grin widening. “Always acting so untouchable. Well, guess what, sweetheart? You’re not untouchable now.” His fingers brushed the edge of her shorts, his touch lingering there before sliding back down.

“Just don’t leave any marks,” Marcus muttered, a nervous laugh escaping him. “We don’t need that kind of trouble.”

Viktor snorted. “Please. Who’s gonna see her? It’s not like she’s going anywhere.”

The car jolted as it hit a pothole, and Clarissa’s head bumped lightly against the window. Her body shifted slightly, but her eyes remained closed.

Viktor froze for a moment, his eyes narrowing.

“You idiot!” Marcus hissed. “You’re gonna wake her up!”

“She’s not waking up,” Viktor said, though he watched her carefully.

“She’s had enough to knock her out for hours. Ain’t that right, princess?” He leaned in close, his lips nearly brushing her ear. “You’re not going anywhere. Not until we’re done with you.”

Marcus laughed nervously, shaking his head. “Man, you’re twisted.”

“And you’re jealous,” Viktor shot back, leaning back against the seat. His hand stayed on Clarissa’s thigh, his fingers resting there lazily. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn if you want it.”

Marcus glanced in the mirror again, his expression torn between unease and desire. “Yeah, maybe,” he muttered. “But we’ve gotta stick to the plan. Get to the safe house first.”

“Oh, we’ll get there,” Viktor said with a dark chuckle, his gaze lingering on Clarissa. “But there’s no harm in enjoying the ride, right?”

His gaze shifted back to Clarissa, a slow smirk spreading across his face as he trailed his fingers up her thigh, feeling the smoothness of her skin.

His touch was deliberate, like he was savoring every inch of her.

He shifted closer, his hand leaving her thigh for a brief moment.

Then, with a sinister calm, he slid his fingers under the hem of her tank top.

His hand moved upward, slipping under the cup of her bra with ease.

He cupped her right breast, squeezing it roughly, feeling the softness beneath his fingers.

His breath quickened as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear. “I’m going to make this ride worthwhile,” he whispered, the words dripping with malice.

His grip tightened, and he gave her breast another cruel squeeze. “You think you’re untouchable? We’ll see about that.”

Meanwhile, Marcus focused on the road ahead, trying to push down the jealousy in his stomach.

He wanted to touch Clarissa’s breasts and squeeze them. Oh he wanted to rape her in the car right now, but he said nothing.

He just kept driving, his voice a strained whisper as he glanced lecherously at Viktor. “You’re making me jealous, man.”

Viktor didn’t respond. His fingers lingered a little longer, and his smirk deepened as he continued to torment her unconscious form.

Viktor reluctantly pulled his hand away from Clarissa’s right breast, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary, as if savoring the feeling.

The coldness of the car’s interior air hit his skin, but the heat from her body still burned through him, urging him to continue.

His breath quickened, his desire insatiable, but he forced himself to pull back.

“It’s time to take this up a notch,” Viktor muttered, his voice low and dripping with menace. His words were more of a promise than a suggestion.

With a swift, almost careless motion, he grabbed Clarissa by the waist, hauling her limp body toward him.

Her head flopped to one side, her once-perfect blonde hair tangled and matted against her face. She was a ragdoll in his hands, completely at his mercy.

Viktor’s grip tightened as he pulled her fully onto his lap, her soft, pliant body pressing against him, unaware of the torment she was about to endure.

Her back was flush against his chest, and her head lolled backward, exposing the delicate curve of her neck. Her nape rested on his shoulder, her skin pale and warm to the touch.

She looked like a broken doll, utterly defenseless.

He could feel every inch of her against him, the rise and fall of her chest against his, the weight of her body settling into his lap like it belonged there.

The scent of her perfume, still faint but present, filled his nostrils, and Viktor inhaled deeply, drunk on the intoxicating sweetness of it.

His fingers traced the curve of her waist, moving upward with an excruciating slowness as though savoring each delicate inch of her skin. Her body didn’t stir.

She was completely unaware, her soft breath almost rhythmic. It made Viktor’s stomach tighten with twisted excitement.

“You look so fucking perfect like this,” Viktor whispered, his voice thick with perverse satisfaction, his lips brushing against her ear.

His hands slid over her thighs, caressing her in slow, deliberate motions. “So helpless… so perfect for me.”

Clarissa’s head rested against his shoulder, her skin so soft and smooth that he could almost feel it beneath his fingertips, each touch a reminder of his dominance.

Viktor’s hands moved lower, the heat of her body burning against his as he pulled her even closer.

Her thighs were warm and silky beneath the thin fabric of her shorts, and he couldn’t resist tracing his fingers over the curves, his touch slow and possessive.

Behind them, Marcus continued to drive, his hands gripping the wheel tightly as he glanced nervously in the rearview mirror.

His eyes briefly flickered over the backseat, then away, an uncomfortable mixture of jealousy and hesitation in his gaze. “This is… getting a little too much, man,” he muttered, his voice tight with unease. “I cannot concentrate.”

Viktor didn’t even look at him. His eyes stayed locked on Clarissa’s unconscious form, his grin widening, a look of twisted satisfaction twisting his features.

“You’ll have your fun later, Marcus,” Viktor murmured, his voice dripping with malice. “For now, this is exactly where she belongs. Right here. In my lap.”

The car sped forward, the dark, empty road stretching out before them, swallowed by the night.

Viktor’s hands roamed over Clarissa’s body with increasing boldness, his fingers slipping under the hem of her tank top, sliding against the bare skin of her stomach.

She didn’t stir, didn’t react—her silence, her stillness, only made him more hungry for what was to come.

His breath quickened as he trailed his fingers up her breasts, his mind spinning with the possibilities, each one darker and more twisted than the last.

Viktor’s fingers tightened around the hem of Clarissa’s tank top.

His breath caught in his chest as he looked down at her unconscious form, her body completely vulnerable, devoid of any resistance.

He had always enjoyed the power, the control, and this moment—this manipulation—was no different.

“I think you won’t really need this, baby,” Viktor sneered, a dark chuckle slipping from his lips as he slowly pulled the fabric up her body.

He gripped the sides of her tank top, dragging it upwards over her unconscious arms, lifting them gently as he did so, the fabric moving like a slow, deliberate strip of his power.

Clarissa’s body didn’t fight back, didn’t resist. She remained limp, a puppet in his hands, completely at his mercy.

Her chest rose and fell in an almost rhythmic pattern, her hair tangled and messy as the tank top was finally removed, discarded to the side.

“Now, that’s more like it,” Viktor muttered, his eyes lingering over her exposed torso. She was nothing but a plaything to him, a thing to manipulate, to control.

She meant nothing. But the way her body felt under his touch—the soft curve of her waist, the smoothness of her skin—made something darker stir inside him.

Her back was still pressed against his chest, her face serene in its unconsciousness, and the only remaining barriers between him and her body were the black bra she wore and the denim shorts clinging to her hips.

His eyes flicked downward, a malicious smirk curling at the edges of his lips as he spotted the clasp of her bra.

“Front clasp bra, huh?” he whispered in a tone laced with mockery and an almost perverse pleasure. The words were meant to demean, to show his ownership. “You’re a little too… prepared for someone who pretends to be untouchable.”

He let his fingers graze the edge of the bra, feeling the coolness of the metal clasp beneath his fingertips.

But his mind wasn’t on the bra. It was on her breasts, and how they are just waiting to be freed.

Markus’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel as his eyes flickered to the rearview mirror again.

The road ahead blurred in his vision because what he saw in the mirror stole all his focus.

Clarissa’s tank top was gone. Completely gone. The pale glow of her skin contrasted sharply against the dark interior of the car.

Her black bra strained to keep her perfect, round breasts in place, the edges pressing into her soft flesh.

The slow rise and fall of her chest with every steady, unconscious breath made her look almost… inviting.

Markus’s jaw went slack. “Damn…” he muttered under his breath, voice low and rough.

“I know….” Viktor drawled from the backseat, his tone dripping with amusement.

He sat comfortably, Clarissa’s limp body sprawled on his lap like a prize.

His hands traced lazy circles over her bare stomach, as though savoring the feeling of her skin.

Markus didn’t respond at first, too absorbed in the view from the mirror.

His lips parted, his voice hoarse when he finally spoke. “I need to hurry up, man, and start driving faster. I want my turn.”

At that, Viktor laughed—a low, sinister chuckle that sent a chill through the air. “Your turn?” he mocked, his hand still wandering Clarissa’s body with deliberate slowness.

His fingers brushed the hem of her shorts, teasing the bare skin of her thigh before trailing upward again. “What’s the rush, Marcus? You act like you don’t have all night to enjoy her.”

“I don’t have all night,” Markus snapped, frustration leaking into his voice.

His grip on the wheel was unsteady, the car swerving slightly before he corrected himself.

“Come on, man. Quit playing around back there.”

“Playing?” Viktor repeated, smirking as he tilted his head down, his gaze lingering hungrily on Clarissa’s chest. “You call this playing? I’m just getting started.”

Markus’s eyes darted back to the mirror. He gasped audibly when he saw Viktor’s hand move. With a slow, taunting motion, Viktor reached for the clasp of her bra—the small metal hook nestled perfectly between her breasts.

“Oh, you bastard,” Markus muttered, his voice thick with jealousy.

Viktor’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the torment he was inflicting on both Markus and Clarissa. “Watch closely,” he said darkly, his voice smooth like oil. With an easy flick of his fingers, the clasp came undone.

The bra fell open, and Markus couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Her perfect, round breasts spilled free, soft and full, jiggling slightly as the car hit a small bump in the road.

The pale skin of her chest seemed to glow in the dim light, and the faint outline of her nipples—taut from the cold—only made the sight more unbearable.

“Hot damn,” Markus breathed, his voice thick with lust. He couldn’t help himself; he craned his neck slightly, trying to steal a better view over his shoulder.

His eyes were wide, drinking in every inch of her exposed flesh.

Viktor shot him a sharp glare, though his smirk never faltered. “Eyes on the road, you idiot,” he barked, though there was amusement in his tone.

His fingers trailed along the curve of one of Clarissa’s breasts, squeezing lightly before dragging his knuckles lazily across her smooth skin.

“You crash this car, and you’ll never get your turn. Is that what you want?”

Markus groaned loudly, snapping his head back toward the road with obvious reluctance. His frustration was palpable.

“You’re killing me back there, man. You know you’re killing me.”

Viktor chuckled again, dark and satisfied. “Patience,” he said smoothly, his voice low and mocking.

His fingers continued their slow, possessive exploration of Clarissa’s breasts. “You’ll get your turn soon enough. But for now… this is exactly where she belongs.”

Markus growled under his breath, his knuckles white as he squeezed the steering wheel, trying to keep his focus on the road ahead.

But it was impossible. The image of Clarissa’s bare tits—her soft, defenseless body sprawled across Viktor’s lap—was burned into his mind.

“Lucky bastard,” he muttered, unable to hide the jealousy twisting in his gut.

Viktor grinned darkly, leaning closer to Clarissa’s ear.

His voice dropped to a whisper, though he spoke loud enough for Markus to hear.

“You hear that, princess? Even he can’t take his eyes off you.”

His fingers slid under her breast, cupping the soft weight of it before squeezing roughly, as if testing her. “I told you… you’re not so untouchable now, are you?”

Clarissa’s body remained still, her head lolling slightly against Viktor’s shoulder.

She was utterly defenseless, unaware of the torment her captors were inflicting upon her.

Markus swallowed hard, his breath ragged. He forced himself to keep his gaze on the road, but the images replayed in his head over and over like a cruel movie reel.

“You better not hog her all night,” he muttered, though his voice had softened, thick with desperation.

Viktor only laughed, his fingers continuing their cruel, deliberate exploration of Clarissa’s breasts – roughly squeezing and fondling them, jiggling them on his palms.

“Don’t worry,” he said darkly, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’ll have your fun. We both will.”

Markus bit back another groan, forcing his attention back to the dark road ahead.

But it didn’t matter. Viktor’s actions, Clarissa’s perfect body, the jealousy and twisted desire bubbling inside him—it was all too much.

Viktor’s touch was deliberate, possessive, a slow exploration as if savoring every inch of her breasts.

He could feel the warmth of her body pressed against his, the rise and fall of her breath, soft and rhythmic, as her unconscious form settled against him like a ragdoll.

He smirked, leaning closer, his breath hot against her ear.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with perverse satisfaction.

His fingers moved over her exposed chest with slow, sensual motions, each one pressing and squeezing her breasts, his palms brushing against the full, soft curves of her flesh.

“Look at these,” he murmured. “So soft, so huge, they fill my hands perfectly. Just the way I like it.”

Viktor couldn’t resist. His hands cupped her breasts firmly, savoring the way her skin yielded to his touch.

He gave them a tender squeeze, watching the way her body reacted, her back pressing against his chest

Her lips barely parted, a soft, involuntary moan escaping her as she remained unaware.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, as if to himself. “These tits, they’re so fucking perfect. Soft, round… I can feel every inch of them beneath my hands.”

He massaged her breasts slowly, tenderly, his fingers dragging across the skin of her chest, squeezing just a little harder with each pass. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this… to feel you, to touch you like this.”

Viktor’s voice dropped lower, his tone darker, possessive. “Your skin… it’s so smooth,” he whispered, as if relishing the sensation.

“I can’t get enough of you. These tits… they’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” His fingers pinched her nipples, rolling them slowly between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a faint, drugged moan from her, though she remained unaware, lost in her induced slumber.

“Did you hear that?” Viktor chuckled darkly, his voice heavy with satisfaction.

“You like it when I touch you, don’t you? Even if you’re too out of it to know what’s happening.”

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he continued to knead her breasts.

“You think you can hide behind that attitude, pretending you’re untouchable, but look at you now—completely at my mercy. These tits are mine. All mine.”

His hands squeezed harder, his grip tightening as he held her against him, enjoying the helplessness of her unconscious form.

He marveled at how perfectly she fit against him, her body pliant and warm, her breasts heavy in his hands, as if they were made to be touched by him.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “These tits… I could do this all night.”

The car’s steady movement, the hum of the engine, and Viktor’s unrelenting touch were the only sounds that filled the space.

Clarissa remained unaware, her soft breathing the only indication that she was still alive, still a plaything in his hands.

Viktor’s grin spread wider as he leaned down to whisper directly into her ear, his voice low and almost teasing.

“You feel that, princess? Even in your sleep, you can’t escape me. These tits… you’re never gonna be able to forget who owns you now.”

Viktor shifted in the back seat as Clarissa, still unconscious, rested limply against him. Her body was unresponsive, her breath shallow as her head hung loosely backward against his shoulder.

He adjusted her weight, his hands firm on her arms as he gently lifted her off his lap.

With a grunt of exertion, he maneuvered her limp body into the backseat of the car, her legs sliding over the edge as her head lightly bumped the door with a soft thud.

Clarissa, still unaware of her surroundings, was nothing more than a ragdoll in his grasp.

Viktor looked down at Clarissa’s body. She was sprawled across the backseat, unconscious, her head leaning against the right door with her foot brushing the opposite door. Her tank top and bra now gone, leaving her breasts exposed.

He allowed himself a moment to appreciate the sight of her, her chest rising and falling slowly with each breath.

Her breasts, full and soft, seemed to beckon to him, an offering he couldn’t resist.

He knelt down by the seat, leaning over her, his fingers brushing over her skin, his touch possessive. Her skin felt warm to the touch, the soft rise of her chest creating an irresistible rhythm as she breathed.

Time seemed to slow, the moment stretching out as he gazed at her. He was no stranger to the grim satisfaction of his actions, but tonight was different.

There was something in the air—a darker, more urgent need that surged through him.

His hand hovered for a moment, fingers twitching before they gripped her arm and roughly pulled her into a more comfortable position.

The jarring movement made her head loll toward the door, and a soft sound escaped her lips, though she remained unresponsive.

Viktor couldn’t help himself.

The sight of her broken body—helpless and unaware—was almost intoxicating.

He whispered to himself, “Time to dig in,” as though those words justified the violence of what he was about to do. His voice was low, raspy, with a trace of something darker.

He leaned over her, lowering his face until his lips brushed the softness of her exposed chest. He inhaled deeply, savoring the fleeting moments before he pressed his lips to her breast.

The warmth of her skin beneath him stirred something twisted within him. With a sigh of satisfaction, Viktor began to suck on her breasts, his lips greedy as they moved over her tender flesh.

His tongue flicked out to trace her nipple, rolling it between his teeth before sucking harder, pulling the soft skin into his mouth as though he couldn’t get enough.

Clarissa remained still, her chest rising and falling with the faint rhythm of her unconscious breathing, but her lack of resistance only fueled Viktor’s dark desires.

His breath quickened, his grip tightening around her, as though to claim her entirely, body and soul.

His fingers dug into the plush softness of her breast, pressing with more force, and his lips followed suit—pushing, sucking, savoring.

“God, you have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this,” Viktor muttered, his voice rough with a sick sense of need. The words seemed to hang in the air, unsettling in their delivery.

“You think you’re safe, don’t you? But you’re not. You never were.”

There was no response from Clarissa, and Viktor’s twisted smile deepened.

He wasn’t looking for her consent, nor did he care that she was unconscious. All he wanted was to satisfy his craving, to take what he felt was rightfully his.

His actions became more frantic, desperate, as though there were some invisible clock ticking away.

He buried his face further between her breasts, his moans of pleasure low and guttural.

Each movement was calculated, deliberate—a ritual, a twisted prayer to whatever dark force drove him to this point.

“You don’t get to fight back,” Viktor muttered, his lips still pressed against her skin. “You’re just a body now. My body.”

He sucked greedily, moved by a need that wasn’t about Clarissa at all, but the control he had over her.

His fingers drifted over her exposed skin, tracing the curve of her waist before sliding back up to her chest.

Her breasts, full and soft, beckoned him. Viktor let out a low sigh of satisfaction, as though he had been starved for far too long.

Without hesitation, he shifted his head to her other tit, his lips brushing against her right breast.

He took it in his mouth, sucking gently at first, testing the warmth of her flesh. His tongue flicked over her nipple, feeling the slight hardness beneath it.

“Perfect,” Viktor murmured to himself, his voice thick with perverse satisfaction.

“So fucking soft…”

His other hand, meanwhile, moved to her left breast. He squeezed it roughly, feeling the weight of it in his palm, the soft flesh yielding to his touch.

His fingers dug deeper, pinching, pressing until it was almost painful, but it was the kind of pain that only made him crave more.

Clarissa remained completely still, her unconscious form allowing Viktor to do as he pleased.

He alternated between sucking and squeezing, savoring every second, every movement. He would pull back, lifting his mouth from her breast to admire the way her chest rose and fell with each slow, shallow breath.

Then, with deliberate slowness, he pressed both of her breasts together, watching them jiggle slightly under his touch.

“Look at that,” Viktor whispered darkly, his gaze fixed on the way her soft flesh moved beneath his hands. “So fucking perfect. I could spend hours just on these.”

His lips returned to her chest, his mouth descending again to suck greedily on her nipple, this time harder, pulling more of her flesh into his mouth.

His tongue traced around the sensitive area, flicking, sucking, tasting her as if she were nothing more than an indulgence.

“God… you have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” Viktor muttered between breaths, his voice hoarse with hunger.

His fingers continued their cruel, possessive massage of her breast, each squeeze making her body move slightly, pressing her soft flesh closer to him. “You’re mine now. All of you.”

Markus, still in the front seat, watched the scene unfold in the rearview mirror. His breath quickened, a low growl forming in his throat as his eyes locked onto Viktor’s every movement.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, the leather creaking under his grip as his chest tightened with jealousy.

“You lucky bastard,” Markus muttered under his breath, his voice thick with frustration.

The image of Viktor’s hands and mouth on Clarissa’s breasts burned into his mind. He could feel the tension in his body building, the desire to take control of the situation growing stronger with each passing second.

But Viktor, as if sensing his frustration, spared him a glance through the mirror. His lips curled into a cruel, teasing smile.

“You’re watching, aren’t you?” Viktor’s voice was smooth, almost mocking, yet tinged with satisfaction. “You’re dying to get your hands on her, aren’t you? Don’t worry. You’ll get your turn soon enough. Just be patient.”

Markus clenched his teeth, his frustration mounting. “I’ve been patient long enough, Viktor,” he growled, his gaze still locked on the rearview mirror.

He watched as Viktor’s mouth moved back to Clarissa’s breast, his sucking now frantic, desperate, as though he were starved for more.

Viktor ignored him, too lost in his own twisted pleasure to care. He pulled back once more, letting his fingers wander over her breasts, pressing them together again, feeling the warmth of her skin as he toyed with her.

Then, with an almost casual air, he leaned in once more, his lips claiming her nipple with renewed hunger.

“These tits… they’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” Viktor groaned into her skin, his voice thick with lust and control. “So fucking perfect… You should be thanking me for letting you be this perfect for me.”

He squeezed again, harder this time, pressing the soft, helpless flesh together with force, as if proving his ownership.

Clarissa, still unaware, remained a passive object in his hands, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with the movement of the car.

Viktor’s smile grew wider, dark satisfaction filling his gaze as he continued to touch and taste her, lost in the heady rush of power and desire.

His grip on her breast tightened, as though he couldn’t get enough, as though he would never tire of claiming her, savoring every moment of it.

Markus, unable to tear his eyes away, clenched his fists around the wheel. His jaw tightened in frustration.

Every second felt like a cruel tease, Viktor taking what he wanted while he was left powerless to intervene.

Viktor reluctantly pulled his face away from Clarissa’s breasts. His lips, slick with the remnants of her, lingered for a moment as he took in the sight of her.

She was unconscious, her delicate features softened in a vulnerable haze.

Her hair, once neatly styled, was now a tangled mess, strands sticking to her damp skin. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, her body limp beneath him.

Her breasts, glistening with his saliva from his sucking, stood proudly against her pale skin.

Her nipples, pink and erect, contrasted starkly with her limp, unconscious state. Viktor’s eyes gleamed as he allowed himself to admire her, the look in his eyes hungry, predatory.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, more to himself than to her, his voice thick with dark satisfaction.

“It’s time you let go of this too,” Viktor spoke with a sense of quiet authority as he reached down.

His hands moved with slow, deliberate precision as he unbuttoned her shorts.

The soft click of the buttons seemed to echo in the silence of the car.

He continued his task methodically, pulling her shorts down over her hips. They slid down her thighs, past her knees, and finally down her ankles, leaving her legs bare.

He looked at her exposed thighs, his eyes lingering on the soft curves. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice heavy with possessiveness.

He couldn’t help but take in the sight of her—vulnerable, stripped of her outer layers but still clothed in the black underwear that clung tightly to her form.

Clarissa remained motionless, unaware of the slow, deliberate movements of Viktor’s hands.

Her body lay completely still, save for the slow rise and fall of her chest. Her black underwear, the last piece of her clothing, still clung desperately to her body, the fabric hugging the shape of her hips and emphasized the beauty of her thighs.

Viktor’s eyes darkened with interest as he traced his fingers over the soft fabric.

“Oh wow,” Viktor breathed, his voice barely audible, as he stared at her. “Look at you.” His gaze traveled over her exposed skin, his fingers brushing against the soft edges of her panties.

They were the only thing still hiding her most precious jewel from his view.

He paused, savoring the moment, before leaning in closer.

“You look so vulnerable. So perfect.” He placed a single, slow kiss on her thigh, just below the waistband of her panties, his lips lingering against her skin.

He wasn’t in a rush. Viktor knew he had control over her, and that made every second sweeter.

His breath was warm against her skin as he slowly moved his lips up, just enough to hover near the waistband of her panties.

He felt the slight tension in the fabric, still tight against her body. But he didn’t remove them.

Not yet.

He paused again, his gaze drinking her in, his fingers still hovering near the delicate fabric.

Viktor’s fingers grazed lightly over Clarissa’s panty-clad crotch as she still lay unconscious in the passenger seat, her body limp and unaware of his touch.

He studied her, eyes flickering over her soft form. He could feel the delicate fabric of her panties beneath his fingers, tracing the contours of her body as he made contact with her pussy mound.

“So soft,” Viktor muttered to himself, his fingers curling slightly to explore the soft mound more despite being covered by her thin underwear.

He let his touch linger for a moment, feeling the warmth radiating from her body. There was a thrill in the way her unconscious body reacted to his touch—no resistance, no fight. Just vulnerability.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. He could feel the subtle curve of her hips and the way her body molded perfectly to the seat.

Slowly, his hand inched upward along her thigh, fingertips brushing the smooth, warm skin of her inner leg.

Her thighs were soft—silky to the touch—as if every inch of her skin had been cared for, pampered.

Viktor let his hand travel higher, his fingers gliding over the curve of her upper thighs, feeling the slight indentation where her muscles tapered.

The smoothness was intoxicating. Each stroke of his fingers left a trail of warmth behind, as if his touch had imprinted something on her skin.

He couldn’t help but admire the flawless texture beneath his hand. It felt almost unreal—like the skin of a doll, unmarked, untouched, and perfect.

He repeated the movement, allowing his palm to slide up, grazing the back of her thigh before slowly making its way down again.

Her thigh was so smooth it almost felt like silk, soft to the point of being unreal, as if she had never experienced a single scrape or imperfection in her life.

Viktor’s fingers wandered across the full expanse of her legs, savoring the feel of each delicate inch.

The muscle tone in her thighs was subtle yet defined, a perfect balance between softness and strength.

It was the kind of smoothness you couldn’t tear your eyes from—the kind that begged to be touched, explored.

“So smooth… so perfect,” Viktor whispered, more to himself than to her, as he let his palm linger against her inner thigh.

His fingers brushed just underneath the thin fabric of her panties, feeling the outline of her body pressing against the material.

He let his touch grow bolder, sliding further down the soft, inviting length of her leg, pressing into the softness of her flesh.

Each time his hand moved up, he felt the subtle curve of her hip beneath his touch, the slope of her thigh into the more delicate skin of her inner leg.

Her body responded to him without protest, just soft surrender, and he couldn’t help but lose himself in the feel of her smoothness.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, almost tenderly, as if he were appreciating a work of art.

His fingers paused at the hem of her panties, pressing gently to feel the soft, delicate outline of her pussy beneath.

There was no rush. He could take his time.

Viktor ran his fingers back down her thigh, slowly, deliberately, tracing every curve and contour.

Her skin seemed to stretch beneath his fingers, flawless and soft—like the smoothest satin.

He continued his exploration, gently pressing into her skin as if trying to mark it, to claim it for his own.

“Such perfect skin,” he murmured, his tone low, full of dark satisfaction.

His hand moved in slow, lazy circles over her soft thigh, enjoying the feel of her delicate flesh beneath him.

Clarissa remained still, unaware of her captor’s unwanted touch, her body laid out before him in a state of unconscious vulnerability.

Viktor’s breath grew heavier as he continued to slide his hands over her thighs, savoring the sensation of her smooth skin beneath his touch.

Viktor’s fingers twitched as he glanced down at Clarissa’s motionless form.

The anticipation was eating at him, gnawing at his insides. He had been patient—too patient—but the moment had arrived. It was time.

He could feel the heat in his chest intensifying as he slowly reached for her.

“Time to unwrap Victoria’s Secret,” Viktor chuckled darkly, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced at the brand of her underwear.

The name, taunting him with its hidden meaning, only deepened his need.

Clarissa was completely unaware, her unconscious body sprawled in front of him, the only sign of life her soft, steady breathing.

She looked almost angelic like this, her naked breasts rising and falling in a slow rhythm. But Viktor knew better. This was his prize, his to claim.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin, savoring the moment before he acted.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Viktor’s fingers brushed across her waist, the light touch almost reverent.

Then, he gripped the waistband of her panties and, with the kind of methodical care only he could give, he began pulling them down.

His eyes watched intently, each inch of skin revealed heightening the hunger in him.

The thin fabric slid over her hips, down her smooth thighs, past her knees, and finally, with a soft whisper, over her ankles.

He took a deep, shaky breath as he pulled the last bit of fabric free, holding it in his hand as if it were a trophy.

“Oh wow,” Viktor murmured, his voice low and full of dark admiration.

His eyes roamed over her completely naked body, every inch of her body exposed to him.

She was perfect, flawless in her unconscious and naked state, but it was the vulnerability and helplessness of her state that aroused her even more.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, his words almost reverent as he leaned back, taking in the sight of her.

His hand shook slightly as it hovered over her, a hungry glint in his eyes. “Absolutely perfect. I should be thanking you, you know. I’m the lucky one.”

He chuckled darkly to himself, the sound low and almost predatory.

His fingers grazed her smooth skin again, this time moving lower, tracing the gentle bulge of her crotch.

His touch was slow, almost hesitant, as though savoring the sensation of her warmth. It was like a drug, addictive and consuming.

“Looks like you were preparing yourself for me,” Viktor murmured, his voice dripping with mockery as he studied the smooth, bare mound between her legs.

His fingers hovered just above her pussy, itching to touch. “Looks like somebody had a Brazilian wax recently. All ready for someone special, were you?”

His words hung in the air, thick with the twisted pleasure he was drawing from this moment.

The contrast between her vulnerability and his dominance was something he reveled in.

Slowly, carefully, Viktor’s fingers brushed against her mound, his touch soft but deliberate.

The smoothness of her skin was a sensation he could never get enough of, and his fingers moved over her slowly, roaming, caressing.

“So soft,” he whispered under his breath, his fingers tracing lazy circles around her most intimate area.

The soft touch made his body ache with desire, a steady rhythm building as his fingers glided over her pussy mound. “So soft… it’s almost like you were waiting for me.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping lower, barely a whisper as he pressed his lips close to her ear. “I won’t let this go to waste, you know,” he breathed, the words dark and twisted. “Your little Brazilian wax? It’s all for me now.”

Viktor leaned back again, his fingers still tracing her pussy as his eyes never left her.

He was consumed by the perfection of her. He was the only one who could appreciate her like this, the only one who could savor every detail, every inch of her exposed body.

“You’re perfect,” he repeated, his voice a soft, dark murmur. “And you don’t even know it. But I do.”

*******************************************

Carlos’ pulse hammered in his throat as he followed at a safe distance, his silver sedan weaving through the gridlocked traffic.

Every inch of the road ahead felt like an eternity, the air thick with the haze of exhaust and frustration.

His eyes never left the black car ahead—Marcus’ sleek, ominous vehicle.

His hands tightened around the wheel, knuckles white, as he kept his speed steady, weaving in and out of lanes with desperate precision.

The memories of what he’d witnessed haunted him—Clarissa’s limp body, the men carrying her into their car as though she were nothing more than a discarded doll.

He’d been too late. They had rendered her unconscious, and he didn’t know how.

“Where are they taking her?” he thought as the men loaded her inside the car.

Clarissa is a very beautiful woman with a body that men would stare at and would do anything just to get their hands on her.

Seeing the men take her, he didn’t want to think of all the unspeakable things those men will do to a woman like her – especially when she’s unconscious, and utterly defenseless.

His heart clenched as the thought flickered through his mind again, but there was no time for regrets.

His phone was useless—dropped during the robbery, a casualty of their brutal work. No calls for backup. No reinforcements. It was just him now, following them, biding his time.

Carlos’ eyes scanned the heavy traffic for an opening, for a chance to get closer without losing them. He knew it was dangerous, knew it could all go wrong at any moment, but he couldn’t stop. He was too close.

They wouldn’t get away. Not this time.

The men in the black car had no idea they were being followed, and that only fueled Carlos’ resolve.

He wasn’t a hero, but today, he would play the part. The moment would come when he could act—when they would pay for what they’d done.

**********************************************************

Clarissa’s eyes fluttered open, a dull ache seizing her skull as consciousness returned in sharp, overwhelming waves.

Her head pounded like a drum, each beat sending a new surge of pain through her body.

It was like she had been hit by a truck, every muscle sore, every bone bruised. A distant ringing filled her ears, and the world around her remained a disorienting blur.

“Uggghhh…” The sound was barely audible, a ragged groan as her mind struggled to piece together the fragments of reality.

Her body felt heavy, like something was smothering her. Her eyes tried to focus, but the light above her was blinding. It took a few moments before she could make sense of her surroundings.

She was lying down. Her body felt stiff, like she’d been thrown around—tossed and abused.

Her limbs ached, every part of her was sore, but it was when she tried to move them that the truth hit her.

There was something—no, someone—pressing against her. The weight was unmistakable. It was a man, his body crushing down on her, his breath hot and uneven against her skin.

She tried to scream, but the sound caught in her throat, her lungs unable to work fast enough.

And then—she felt it. The unmistakable, invasive pressure between her legs. It was hard and relentless, thrusting inside her with painful rhythm.

The grunting noise made her stomach twist in sickening recognition.

He was inside her—his thrusts pushing painfully into her, each movement rough and demanding.

She could feel the searing pain, the invasion, the humiliation flooding every inch of her being.

Her eyes snapped open, her breath catching in her throat. The realization hit her like a cold wave. She was being raped.

“NO!” she screamed, a desperate cry escaping her lips. Her body jolted, her legs kicking violently, her hands pushing against the man who had her pinned down.

She couldn’t see him clearly, but the weight of him, the suffocating presence, was overwhelming. She fought with everything she had, every ounce of strength.

She needed to get away, needed to escape.

Clarissa kicked out with her legs, her feet connecting with his chest. The man staggered back, surprised by her strength. For a split second, he faltered.

“What the fuck?!” Viktor cursed, dumbfounded. His expression darkening as he regained his balance.

His eyes blazed with fury as he lunged forward, but Clarissa was already twisting her body, trying to wriggle out from under him. She had to get free. She had to.

With a desperate scream, Clarissa kicked again, this time striking him square in the face.

The man recoiled, stumbling back in shock as he fell to the car floor. Clarissa scrambled to her knees, her heart racing as her mind fought to make sense of her next move.

She was still trapped—nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. The car was too small. She had to get out.

Marcus twisted in his seat, hearing the sounds of chaos coming from behind him. His eyes widened when he saw what was happening.

“What the hell is going on back there?” Marcus exclaimed, his voice filled with shock and disbelief.

He turned fully in his seat, his gaze fixed on Clarissa.

She was no longer the unconscious, helpless woman they had thrown into the car earlier.

Now, she was a whirlwind of desperate fury.

Her naked body was a blur of frantic movement as she threw herself at Viktor, slamming her fists into his chest and kicking at him with wild force.

Every motion, every desperate attempt to break free from Viktor’s grasp, made her breasts bounce and sway in a way that sent a sick thrill coursing through Marcus.

She wasn’t just fighting back—she was fighting like a caged animal, wild and untamed.

Viktor, though stunned by her strength, tried to push her off, but Clarissa wasn’t having it.

She continued to beat on him, her bare body pressed against him, her sweat-slicked skin glistening in the dim light of the car.

“Hey! Stop it!” Marcus barked, his voice laced with anger, but Clarissa ignored him completely. Her eyes were locked on Viktor, her rage all-consuming.

Marcus gritted his teeth and slammed his foot onto the brake.

The car lurched forward, the abrupt stop sending both Viktor and Clarissa tumbling against the front seats, their bodies colliding with a loud, painful thud.

Viktor grunted, trying to regain his position, but Clarissa wasn’t done yet.

Her legs kicked out in a violent spasm, pushing Viktor back with a force he hadn’t expected.

He needed to act fast. Viktor was still trying to recover from Clarissa’s assault, his breath ragged, his expression furious as he tried to push her off.

Marcus’ mind raced, his eyes flicking from the rearview mirror to the backseat.

He was losing control of the situation, and that couldn’t happen. Not now. Not when everything was so close to the end.

**************************************************

Carlos kept his eyes locked on the robbers’ car, the city fading away as they drove into a secluded part of town.

The roads were empty, only the distant stretch of cornfields surrounding them. It was the perfect time to strike.

His plan was simple—side swipe their car just enough to stop it, not to roll it. But before he could make his move, the robbers’ car screeched to a halt.

Carlos slammed on his brakes, the tires squealing as he stopped inches away from them.

His heart raced. This was it.

He unbuckled his seatbelt, ready to spring into action, but then something stopped him cold. Clarissa Morgen.

She stumbled out of the car, her body completely naked.

When she had been taken, she was unconscious and clothed, but now, she was awake and naked –the total opposite of the state he last found her.

Carlos froze, a mix of horror and something darker stirring in him. There was no time to think.

The men quickly got out of the car, chasing after her.

Clarissa ran toward him, her face twisted in fear. “Help! Please!” she screamed, her voice desperate.

Carlos snapped into action. Grabbing his handheld taser which he stashed under the dashboard for self-defense, he threw open the door and stepped out.

His focus was razor-sharp as the men closed in on Clarissa. This was his moment.

******************************************

“Carlos?” Clarissa’s voice broke through the chaos as she spotted him. Her heart skipped a beat, and for a brief moment, time seemed to slow.

She didn’t know how he had found her, but the sight of him—his familiar face amidst the nightmare—was enough to give her a surge of relief. Her breath caught in her throat, her chest tightening as she fought to keep herself together.

It didn’t matter how he got there. What mattered was that he was there.

“Help me!” she screamed, her voice raw with panic. Desperation echoed in every syllable, and as her gaze locked with his, she saw the determination flicker in his eyes. There was no more running. She was done with being the victim.

Carlos saw the men closing in, their hands reaching for her, their eyes burning with anger. He could feel his heart racing as he sprang forward, propelled by a sudden surge of adrenaline.

His body moved without thinking, driven by instinct. He wasn’t a fighter—he never had been—but seeing her like this, exposed and vulnerable, awakened something in him.

His feet hit the ground hard as he sprinted toward her, fists clenched, his thoughts blurred by the need to protect her, to stop these men.

Clarissa, however, didn’t wait for him to reach her. She wasn’t helpless, not anymore.

As one of the men lunged toward her, hands grabbing for her shoulders with brutal force, Clarissa reacted without hesitation.

In one fluid, almost graceful motion, she spun around, her elbow shooting back with explosive power. The man’s face met her sharp elbow with a sickening crunch, the sound of bone breaking under the force sending a shiver through the air.

The man let out a strangled cry, his hands flying to his nose as blood began to pour freely. He staggered back, eyes wide with shock and pain, as he dropped to his knees, unable to stop the torrent of blood flowing from his shattered nose.

Clarissa barely had time to register the scene before her. Her eyes flickered toward Carlos as he closed the distance between them, his body charging at the second man with reckless determination.

There was no time for hesitation, no time to think. Carlos reached Viktor in seconds, grabbing hold of the man’s arm, yanking it hard and throwing his body into a swift attack.

The two collided with a loud thud, the force of their struggle shaking the air around them. Clarissa watched, breathless, as Carlos pushed back against Viktor’s strength.

He was out of his element, unrefined in his attack, but there was one thing that drove him forward—his need to stop the man from taking Clarissa back.

Viktor’s face twisted in fury as Carlos rammed his knee into his gut, forcing Viktor to stumble back, winded and off balance.

Clarissa’s heart raced, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. This wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

She glanced down at the man she had just disabled, and then back to Carlos, her breath shallow. She didn’t know if they were out of danger yet, but she knew one thing for sure: Carlos wasn’t backing down.

Carlos’s heart raced as he pressed the taser firmly into Marcus’s chest. His thumb tightened on the trigger, and a violent burst of electricity surged through his opponent.

Marcus grunted, his whole body spasming uncontrollably as the shock ripped through him. His eyes went wide, pupils dilating in shock, and his body jerked like a puppet on invisible strings.

Carlos watched with cold satisfaction as Marcus staggered backward, his limbs flailing, before collapsing to the ground with a heavy thud. The fight had left him—he was completely unconscious.

Carlos stood over the fallen body, his breath shallow and rapid. He had done it. The first man was out.

Clarissa’s gaze flicked to him, her expression a mixture of surprise and admiration.

Her breath was still unsteady from the chaos, but she took a moment to look him up and down. She hadn’t expected it—Carlos wasn’t exactly the image of a fighter. His slightly obese body didn’t seem like it could hold much strength, but in that moment, he had proven her wrong.

“Nice one!” Clarissa said, her voice sincere as she flashed him a brief smile. Her hand reached out, and she gave him a quick pat on the shoulder, her eyes lingering with an unspoken appreciation.

But before Carlos could respond, a punch came out of nowhere. The force of the blow hit him square on the jaw, and the world around him seemed to blur as he was sent stumbling backward, his knees buckling beneath him.

His vision swam, his body crashing to the ground with a painful thud.

Clarissa’s eyes widened with shock, her heart racing. But she didn’t hesitate. Her survival instincts kicked in immediately.

With a swift motion, she balled her fists tightly and, without a moment’s thought, threw a powerful punch straight at Viktor’s throat.

The force of the blow connected with a sickening crunch, and Viktor gasped for air, his hands instinctively flying to his neck as he staggered back.

The man’s face twisted in agony as he struggled to breathe, his body seizing from the pain. His eyes widened in terror, his mouth opening and closing in futile gasps as he fought to stay upright.

But it was too late.

The world around Viktor spun violently as his body buckled under the pressure of Clarissa’s blow. His knees gave way, and he crumpled to the ground, gasping and choking for breath.

His arms flailed, but his body could no longer respond. The pain was too much, and his vision started to fade into blackness.

In a matter of moments, Viktor’s body lay motionless on the cold, unforgiving ground. He was done.

Clarissa stood over him, breathing heavily, her fists still clenched in the aftermath of the fight.

She glanced down at Carlos, who was slowly pushing himself up from the dirt, his hand still pressed against his face where the punch had landed.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice laced with concern, though her eyes were sharp, ever watchful.

Carlos groaned, his hand instinctively moving to his face as the sting of the punch settled into his jaw. His body was stiff from the impact, and the taste of blood lingered in his mouth.

He struggled to push himself up from the ground, his vision swimming.

“Did… did we get them?” he rasped, his voice thick with pain, wiping a bloody hand across his chin.

His gaze flickered to Clarissa as she stood over him, eyes intense with a fire that matched the night.

“I think that bastard just broke my nose.”

Clarissa’s voice cut through the fog of pain, steady and unwavering.

“We got them good,” she replied, a small smile curling at the corner of her lips.

She extended her hand, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, glistening in the dim light. “Good job, big guy.”

Carlos stared up at her, momentarily forgetting the pain in his face.

She was breathtaking, even amidst the chaos.

The moonlight kissed her blonde hair, and her sweat-slicked skin gleamed faintly. His gaze wandered lower, lingering shamelessly on her form.

Her naked body looked almost ethereal, the curves of her breasts rising and falling with every ragged breath.

He couldn’t help but let his gaze fall lower, his mind wandering to the way her skin looked beneath the moonlight, smooth and perfect.

His eyes skimmed over her exposed breasts, his thoughts wandering in dark directions as he noticed how her breasts rose and fell with each breath.

His eyes trailed lower to the soft curve of her waist, and the smoothness of her thighs.

His eyes moved further down drinking in the sight of her smooth, clean-shaven mound. His heart raced, his mouth dry with desire.

Clarissa cleared her throat, snapping him back to reality. “Come on,” she said, her tone a little softer now, but still firm. “You saved me. If you weren’t here, I’d be—”

But before she could finish, Carlos’s hand shot out, his fingers gripping the taser tightly. In one swift motion, he jammed it into her crotch.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Electricity crackled to life, filling the air with a sharp, stinging sound that vibrated in the bones.

Clarissa’s eyes went wide as her body seized. Her scream broke the silence, raw and unrestrained, reverberating through the air as the current coursed through her.

Her back arched forward, pressing her pussy mound harder against the barbs of the taser.

Her legs trembling, and her body convulsed uncontrollably. Her hands at her sides, but there was no escape from the brutal shock that ripped through her.

Carlos grinned darkly, watching her, his eyes glued to the way her body reacted to the electric torture.

He kept the taser pressed harder against her, the metal barbs digging into her skin as she screamed again, louder now, desperate and broken.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! NNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!” Her breath hitched with each violent jolt.

She was shaking, her whole body trembling under the onslaught, but there was nothing she could do. The electricity surged through her, leaving her gasping for air, unable to control the wild spasms of her muscles.

Clarissa screamed between ragged breaths, her voice hoarse and desperate. Her arms shot out toward him, her fingers curling as if to grasp onto anything, but her body twisted and spasmed, pushing her further into the pain.

She gasped as her body jerked forward involuntarily, her pussy pressing against the taser, the metal barbs biting into her most sensitive flesh flesh even harder.

Her eyes were wide with terror as she screamed again, her voice a guttural cry of pain and panic.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!” Her legs shook uncontrollably while standing stiff.

Her breasts bounced with every violent tremor, and her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps.

Carlos’s eyes never left her, drinking in the sight of her suffering. He reveled in the way her body writhed beneath him, every scream a melody that made his blood surge.

She screamed again, louder, a raw, primal cry that was almost too much to bear. Her entire form arched, and for a moment, it looked as though she was about to break in two.

Finally, Carlos let go of the trigger. The buzzing sound of the taser died, but the air was still thick with the echoes of Clarissa’s screams.

Her body dropped against him like a ragdoll, her chest rising and falling with frantic, shallow breaths.

Her face was pale, sweat beading on her forehead. Her eyes were wide, still filled with pain, though now they carried something else—confusion, betrayal.

She looked at him, and her lips parted, as if she were about to say something.

“Why?” Her mouth moved in an unspoken question, but no words came out.

Carlos stared at her for a moment, his grin faltering just slightly, but the thrill of control still pulsed through him.

Without responding, he watched as her eyes rolled back, her lids fluttering as her body went limp in his arms.

He watched her breasts press into his chest and he felt her nipples pierce him.

Her scream still echoed in his ears as she collapsed unconscious against him. Once again, Clarissa Morgen was rendered unconscious, but this time it was a friend who betrayed her; a friend who also fell for the charms of her body and wanted to rape her.

She was nothing but a weight in his arms, a pawn to do with as he pleased.

************************************************

The air was cold and the moon shone brightly in the sky as Carlos stepped forward, Clarissa’s limp, naked body draped over his broad shoulder like a prized possession.

Her skin—pale and perfect—was smooth beneath his fingers. He shifted her weight, letting his hand slide down to her firm, shapely ass.

His palm lingered there, stroking her soft flesh. A twisted smile curled his lips as he gave her a sharp, audible smack.

SMACK!

The sound of Clarissa’s ass being slapped filled the air.

“Mmm,” Carlos exhaled, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he squeezed her cheek roughly, his fingers digging into her flesh.

“You’ve got the kind of body that could make a man lose his damn mind, Clarissa.

He adjusted her again, almost like he was savoring the weight of her curves against him.

“You don’t know how lucky you are,” he muttered, his voice taking on a sing-song taunt.

“Other guys? They’d probably tear you apart, fuck you, rape you like a beast. But me?”

He gave her ass another slow squeeze. “I’m taking real good care of you.”

Carlos reached the passenger-side door of his car and eased it open.

He knelt slightly and laid Clarissa onto the seat with surprising gentleness, as though setting down something precious.

Her head lolled to the side, her blonde hair spilling across the headrest like a golden halo. She was breathtaking, even unconscious—her parted lips soft and inviting, her breasts rising and falling in steady, delicate rhythm.

Carlos leaned in close, his face hovering just above hers. He brushed her hair away from her face with the back of his hand, lingering on the softness of her skin.

For a moment, he just stared, his dark eyes drinking in every detail—her flushed cheeks, the faint sheen of sweat on her collarbone, her perfectly shaped breasts.

“God, Clarissa,” he whispered mockingly, his voice husky.

“You’re a damn angel when you sleep. Maybe I should’ve been gentler back there, huh?” He chuckled softly, his tone laced with sinister amusement.

“Sorry about electrocuting your pretty little pussy, sweetheart. But hey, can you blame me? I saw you…….. then I thought I had to have you. Didn’t think—just acted. Some instinct, I guess. You bring that out in a guy.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “I know you’ll probably be mad, but don’t worry. I’m not gonna let anyone else lay a finger on you. You’re safer with me now.”

Carlos’s hand drifted downward, spreading Clarissa’s legs at a very degrading angle. Her thighs opened under his touch, exposing more of her vulnerable form.

A wicked grin tugged at his lips as he let his fingers trail along her soft inner thigh, stopping just short of her center.

“That’s more like it. You’re more inviting now. Let me take care of you, Clarissa,” he murmured darkly, his voice low and dripping with possession.

His other hand moved upward, cupping her left breast in a firm grip. He squeezed, his thumb brushing over the peak lazily, as if testing her softness. “You’ll see. I’m not the bad guy here.”

He pulled back just enough to get a full view of her, sprawled out in the seat— completely naked, breasts exposed, legs wide open, helpless, beautiful, and completely his.

With a satisfied sigh, Carlos straightened and rounded the car. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he started the engine, its low rumble filling the night.

His left hand gripped the wheel, but the other hand? That was a different story.

It wandered. Slowly, it moved to Clarissa’s bare thigh, caressing the smooth expanse of smooth skin.

His fingers traveled upward, brushing over her stomach, then upward still, to the curve of her breast. He gave it another squeeze, his thumb flicking lazily against her nipple.

The whole ride belonged to him now—the city’s chaos outside didn’t matter. Carlos’s gaze flicked back and forth between the road and the perfect, unconscious naked woman beside him.

A low chuckle escaped his lips as his hand continued its slow, possessive exploration of her body.

“Yeah,” he muttered to himself, a smug grin tugging at his mouth. “This is where you belong, Clarissa. Right here with me.”

The engine growled louder as Carlos pressed his foot to the pedal, speeding into the night with Clarissa beside him—unaware, unmoving, and entirely his.

***************************************

The basement was cold, damp, and smelled of rot—of something long forgotten.

The dim light hanging from the ceiling barely illuminated the room, casting long, distorted shadows against the walls.

The space seemed to close in, oppressive and suffocating, as if it was a tomb, sealed and neglected for years. But despite the decay, there was life here, though it was a twisted, horrifying sort of life.

The life came in the form of Clarissa Morgen.

She was suspended by thick ropes, her body twisted and vulnerable. Her arms were bound high above her, pulling her up by her wrists, forcing her body to stand.

The ropes around her ankles spread her legs at a degrading 30 degree angle, pushing them apart.

She was exposed, her body completely naked and exposed to the cold air. Her skin, pale and smooth, was marked by the cruel ropes that held her in place.

Clarissa was spread-eagle, each of her limbs forced into unnatural positions. Her body hung there like a sacrifice, stripped of all dignity.

Her nipples stood out, hard against the chilling atmosphere.

Between her legs, there was a sickening evidence of the violation done to her—white, sticky fluid oozing slowly from her, staining her skin.

Marcus stood before her, cold and detached, his eyes appraising her as if she were some object to be admired.

His fingers twitched with impatience, but he did not touch her yet. His phone was pressed to his ear, and his voice was low, barely audible as he spoke to his cousins, his tone laced with smug satisfaction.

“I’ve got her. Tied up in the basement, just like I said. She’s out cold, all set for you guys,” he said with a chuckle, his eyes lingering on her helpless form.

“Yep. I raped her when she was unconscious. She didn’t know it, but I came into her. I also titfucked her. She’s got amazing pair of titties. It was perfect. Hot, even. Just like I promised.”

There was a brief pause as the voice on the other end of the line replied.

Marcus nodded, an amused grin pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get your turn. But tonight… tonight’s going to be something different. We’ll do it together.”

He hung up with finality, the click of the phone sounding too loud in the oppressive silence.

His gaze returned to Clarissa, still unconscious, her body spread out like a broken doll. There was no pity in his eyes, no remorse. Only cold satisfaction.

Stepping closer, Marcus’s hands moved toward her exposed body, his fingers lightly grazing her skin. Her body twitched ever so slightly in response, but she remained limp, still unaware of his presence.

His touch was slow, deliberate, as if savoring the feeling of her helplessness.

He ran his hands along her thighs, tracing her skin lightly, moving closer to the most intimate part of her body between her legs.

With each pass of his fingers, he felt her body respond, her muscles twitching against the ropes. He could feel her react despite her unconscious state.

“I’ve been dreaming of fucking you, Clarissa. I figured you’re not into guys like me. That’s why I had to electrocute your pussy and capture you for myself.” he whispered, leaning close to her ear. “

You’re in for a long night.” His voice was low, thick with anticipation, and the promise of more to come.

Clarissa’s body, helpless and immobile, responded as Marcus’s fingers moved, stroking her in places that should never have been touched.

His hand worked with cruel precision, tracing the delicate skin of her thighs before moving between her legs.

He didn’t care that she couldn’t stop him; he didn’t care that she was unconscious. To him, this was control. This was power.

“You think you can escape this? You can’t,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. “Tonight, you’re mine. And this is just the beginning.”

His hands continued to explore her pussy, slow and deliberate, each touch meant to assert his dominance over her, to remind her of the horror that she would soon wake up to.

He stepped back for a moment, admiring the scene—the broken woman, vulnerable and spread out for him, her body betraying her even in unconsciousness.

He whispered one final time, his voice a sinister promise. “Get ready, Clarissa. This night you will be fucked like never before.”

***** The End *****

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By Hellblazer00009
#BDSM #Group #Mature #Rape