She moaned as he caught both of her legs behind the knees, lifting her, spreading her thighs wide as they slid over his arms. She felt the length of his cock sliding against her stinging clit and pussy lips.
He pulled the screwdriver from his lips, and held the blade portion in his hand.
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"Tell me you love me, Mayree," he demanded, as the tip of his cock pressed against her sopping wetness.
"I love you," she said, knowing it was true. She wanted to say it over and over, to scream it.
She gasped at the suddenness of him pushing, sliding up into her, stretching her with his rough penetration.
She welcomed the stabbing thrusts, wrapping her legs around him, her willing body clutching around him, as she gave in and came blissfully against him.
Her gasps and moans mingled with his harsh
breathing as he pounded into her for what seemed hours, after each orgasm her body would again begin another rapid climb to fulfillment.
She felt the touch of something cold and hard against her moist flesh, and watched as he slid the handle of the screwdriver against her, wiggling her clit with it as he pumped inside her with his cock. It was coated with her moisture as he rolled it gently between her swollen lips.
She gasped when he reached behind her, and pressed it against the puckered entrance between her hot stinging ass cheeks.
"Oh, no," she protested, remembering how he had put his finger there as he licked her before. "No, Quinn, please no!" she cried. He worked it gently against her resisting hole.
"Shh, Mayree. It's small compared to my cock. What if I wanted to fill your sweet ass with my cock?"
Her heart fluttered at the thought of that. A delightful mix of fear and arousal spiked through her then, as he continued thrusting into her. He pushed, twisting so the handle's tip rested in her bottom as she tried to wiggle away. She was caught between the handle and Quinn's cock, there was no escape.
"You will learn to love it, I promise you," Quinn said sharply. "You will learn to love everything I am going to 90
do to you. You're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you, Mayree?"
Mayree breathed in deeply, loving the feeling of him deep inside her. "Yes," she whispered. She would do anything for this man.
"Tell me you love me," Quinn said, pulling back then thrusting in again.
"I love you, Quinn," Mayree said breathlessly.
The hard length of his cock stilled inside her as his fingers stimulated her clit. Only when she writhed in need against his cock did he continue to work the handle of the screwdriver deeper into her ass. She was whining as she felt her muscles give in, overcome by a burning pain and unfamiliar sensations as it slid up inside her.
"That's it, Mayree, give yourself to me," he groaned.
"Don't fight it. Imagine how much you'd like my cock there, while I rub your little clit."
He slowly eased the handle deeper. She whimpered as he slowly drew it out a fraction before pushing back in.
Soon his strokes were getting longer, and he began rocking his cock into her pussy in time with each thrust of the handle.
He groaned from somewhere deep in his chest.
The tension between her thighs was frantic as she pushed down on his stiff cock, the unyielding plastic handle probing deep inside her with each movement.
Slivers of pleasure were shooting between her thighs as he worked himself in and out of her wetness. She was lost in a dreamy, blissful place. Her eyes closed, as she threw her head back, unable to stop moaning.
He started twisting the handle as he rammed into her.
Her lips parted in a loud gasp, her pussy clenching powerfully around his cock.
"That's it, Mayree, let yourself go. Show me what a good girl you are," he breathed.
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The feel of him lunging deep inside her clutching pussy, and the wicked sensation of the handle inside her ass was too much. Her whole body stiffened, then she went wild, bucking against him, nearly jerking the screwdriver out of his hand as she convulsed around his cock.
She gasped and moaned as she spent herself on him, yet he was relentless, ramming his cock up deep inside of her with the handle still lodged deep in her ass. She moaned as his thrusts increased. The slap of his body against hers echoed in the musty room, as her breasts and thighs jiggled. "I love you, Quinn," she whimpered.
"Fuck," he grunted harshly, unable to hold on as her tight pussy milked him, and he spurted explosively inside of her.
His body stilled, and he kissed her, gently, coaxing her into kissing him back. She gasped against his mouth as he jerked the handle from her, letting it fall to the floor as she shivered in his arms. Her legs hugged him to her, loving the feel of him inside her.
Quinn reached up and freed the belt from the beam, so her full weight rested on his heavy body, reminding her of how incredibly strong he was.
"Let's go have breakfast," he said.
Mayree laid her head against the curve of his neck, wondering if she would even be able to stand on her weak rubbery legs.
Quinn set her down, and she crumbled to the dirt floor, falling in an exhausted heap at his feet.
She looked up at him. He was so powerful, so strong, so perfect. There was no doubt in her mind she loved this man, she was his. "Thank You, Quinn," she said breathlessly, as she lowered her head. She was only vaguely aware that he picked her up when she felt his 92
bare chest against her cheek as he carried her up the cellar steps.
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CHAPTER 5
The first few days following Jack's death were the worst for Quinn. The gloomy wet weather seemed to agree with his mood. He would wake in the wee hours of the morning and listen to the rain pounding on the roof.
Sometimes the sound of Mayree's breathing would interrupt his thoughts of Jack, and guilt would consume him.
It was wrong to be happy when Jack was dead. For the first time in his life he had something that truly made him happy ... Mayree. He didn't deserve happiness.
Each morning he quietly got up and went down the hall to Jack's empty room, turned on the light and sat on the floor. Sometimes he just stared at the wall, other times he apologized over and over in his mind for what had happened. He wasn't a religious man, but he even tried praying. Nothing helped. The guilt, the loss and pain ate at him. The grief was only soothed by the woman in his bed. She was another thing he didn't deserve, but he had never needed anything as badly as he needed her.
He would just sit there in Jack's room, until he felt calm enough, until he felt he wouldn't just break down in tears in front of Mayree. He could manage to go back to his bedroom then, and smile, and tell her good morning.
Try to ignore that fucking chain on her ankle, and treat her like she really was his woman. In bed with her, between her legs, every problem he ever had was forgotten. All that existed when he was with Mayree was her. Even when it wasn't about sex, over breakfast, watching television, whatever it was he did with her, she made him happy.
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The whole house was different now. Mayree cleaned everything, and Quinn found he didn't even mind washing dishes once in a while. It was a real home again, like when he was a little kid, with a family.
They had stayed up late watching television last night.
It was almost Halloween and there were lots of old black and white horror movies on. It was surprisingly easy to settle on which ones to watch. They both agreed Bela Lugosi, as Dracula, and Lon Chaney, Jr, as The Wolf Man were the best. Quinn couldn't ever recall having so much fun watching television.
Mayree talked about Halloween, about carving pumpkins and trick or treating. He remembered there were pumpkins from the garden in the garage.
They had been Jack's pumpkins. He had grown them over the summer. No matter what, Jack hung over him like a fog.
In the cold dark of a late October night they walked hand in hand to the garage to get the pumpkins. Her hand felt warm in his, her fingers tightl
y linked with his.
She was obviously thrilled, and beamed as she made plans to carve the pumpkins tomorrow.
Now, as he sat at the table eating dinner, Quinn looked at the pumpkins lined up on the kitchen counter. He had never carved a pumpkin before, but Mayree's enthusiasm was infectious.
Carving one was more than enough for him. Mayree made it look easy, but after accidentally cutting off almost all his smiling pumpkin's teeth Quinn was thoroughly discouraged. He finished it and tossed the knife on the table in disgust.
"It looks so nice!" Mayree said, sounding so damn truthful. "Do you have any candles to light them?"
"I'll have to buy some," Quinn said. "I'll get some tomorrow." He shook his head as he looked at the jack-o-95
lantern he had carved. Sitting on the table beside the one she had created, his more resembled the work of a five-year-old that had used a butter knife.
"I think I'll bring in wood for a fire, he said. That was a job that suited him better than trying to make faces on pumpkins. He kept an eye on her as he brought in the firewood. She was quietly singing when he came back in, still working on carving the pumpkins.
"You'll not see nothing like the Mighty Quinn," her soft voice sang.
The hair prickled on the back of his neck at the strange familiarity of the song she sang. The wood in his arms crashed loudly to the floor.
"What is that?" Quinn asked.
"What?" Mayree asked, looking bewildered.
"That song?"
Her face flushed and she looked down at the table.
"Just a song. I don't know."
"It's a real song?" he asked, remembering times when he'd sat on his mother's lap as she had sang the same song.
"Yes, it's a real song. Why?"
"My mother used to sing it to me when I was little. I guess I thought it was just something she made up. I've never heard it since."
"No. It's a real song."
"What's it called?"
"The Mighty Quinn. I think Bob Dylan wrote it."
"Why were you singing that?" Quinn asked.
"It suits you, the name "The Mighty Quinn," she admitted. "You are my mighty Quinn."
He picked up the wood he had dropped and began stacking it. He wasn't sure what was real anymore and what he was imagining. This felt real, being with Mayree.
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She was pretending to care for him, and it was making him love her even more.
"The Mighty Quinn", maybe once. Now here he was, washing fucking dishes, carving stupid pumpkins and thinking about a song his mother sang to him when he was three or four. Mayree was turning him into a goddamn sissy.
He poured himself a tall glass of whiskey and stared at the coil of rope his brother had left on the kitchen counter. There was a lot left. Randy had only used a small piece to tie his trunk shut after he packed his car for Florida. Quinn sat down at the table across from her.
"You deserve a fucking academy award," he said.
"What are you talking about?" she asked.
"Pretending you like me. Pretending you want to be here. You're good. You really are. A real fucking actress you are."
She met his gaze without flinching. "I'm not acting,"
she said sharply.
"Really?" Quinn said. It annoyed him that she was so good at this. It would be too easy to just give in and believe her. "So I should trust you?"
Those wide innocent eyes didn't even blink when she said yes.
"So then, you trust me, Mayree?"
She met his gaze, her eyes sparkling. "Yes."
He smiled, wondering just how far she'd go to try and convince him she trusted him. "How much do you trust me?"
Mayree frowned a little. "What do you mean?"
He took another sip of his whiskey. "Do you trust me enough to give me absolute control over you?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "You already do, don't you? You wouldn't let me go anywhere even if I wanted 97
to. You keep me chained to the bed at night. I'd say you already have all the control over me you possibly could."
What she said was true, but her tone of voice angered him, and she seemed to never miss an opportunity to remind him about that fucking chain.
"Well, Mayree, this isn't about that fucking chain. It's about some fucking rope. You are going to take your fucking clothes off and get your fucking ass up on the bed." He drained his whiskey in one long swallow. "And I am going to tie you up, and fuck you, or whatever I want to do to you."
Her mouth dropped open for a second, but she composed herself quickly. "Why?"
"Because I want you to and because you say you trust me."
The spoon she was using to scoop out the pumpkin clattered onto the table. "Can I finish this first?" she asked.
She was scared, he could see it in her eyes. Normally he didn't want her to be afraid of him, but he was beginning to get way too soft when it came to her.
"Yeah. Later. Or tomorrow," he replied.
He stared at her ass as she washed her hands at the kitchen sink. "Hurry up," he said as gruffly as he could.
She trembled beside the bed as she undressed. The combination of shyness and that gorgeous body made him crazy. His hands were almost shaking as he began tying her to the bed.
Quinn let his eyes run slowly across Mayree's naked flesh, from her pink flushed face, down the curve of her neck, over to the creamy globes of her large breasts. His gaze slid along the swell of her belly and her wide hips, arched upward from the pillow beneath her ass. He walked around the bed, taking in her exposed sex, as she lay tied-up and spread before him. He felt his cock 98
hardening. Seeing her bound, wide open like this, just for him, helpless to stop him from doing anything he wanted, was a thrill all its own.
He couldn't stop thinking about how she had behaved in the cellar last week. When she ran he was mad as hell, but he had no intention of really hurting her. The incident in the cellar was to be more a lesson than a punishment. He'd been a little rougher with her than he had originally intended to, and yet she had been on the floor at his feet after thanking him.
Her actions had both pleased and confused him. He had expected her to curse at him, and struggle to be free of him, but she had been visibly aroused and responded as if she wanted him to do anything he wanted to her.
She was different after that, something changed in her.
If he didn't know better he'd swear she wanted to be here.
She responded to him like an experienced whore now, and he loved it. No longer did she try to pretend she didn't want him, even though the soaking wetness between her thighs had given away her secrets from the very start.
Mayree had an ass made for spanking, he liked how it rippled beneath his hand, how her creamy white flesh turned pinker with each slap. She was a delicious, squirming handful when he teased her, spanked and licked her.
He slid his hands under the waistband of his boxers, freeing his erection. He pulled them down well aware she was looking at him. Stepping out of them, he walked to the side of the bed as she turned her head slightly to follow him with her eyes.
He adjusted the knots a bit. "Can I tell you what I think about you? You don't just want me. You need me, don't you, Mayree?"
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He absently stroked her leg, running his fingers up the length of her thigh, waiting for her to answer. He trailed his fingers up her body, over the soft expanse of her rounded belly, which she quickly pulled tight as she sucked in her breath.
"Yes, I need you, Quinn," she said.
"Tell me you love me, Mayree."
"I love you, Quinn," she said, sounding far too eager, but just hearing her say that gave him a twinge in his heart. He wished she'd say it because she wanted to, not because he told her to. God help him if she did.
He stood looking down at her. "You look so pretty tied up. You have absolutely no idea how much I love seeing you like this." He pinched her nipple sharply, and Mayree squirmed in her bonds.
She sighed as he sucked on one until it hardened in his mouth, while he rolled the other between his fingers.
He teased her rosy nipple tips with his tongue, knowing she was helplessly wet already.
"I bet you'd like your pussy licked, wouldn't you?"
Her eyes were glazed and dreamy, "Yes," she moaned.
"You suck me first. You do a good job and I'll lick you until your sweet little clit is raw." He said it without emotion, but his cock was already leaking in anticipation.
Quinn straddled her face, pleased that Mayree opened her mouth without being told to. Guiding the head of his cock between her lips, he looked down at the helpless girl whose mouth he was going to fuck. Her tongue touched him, as he shoved his cock into her mouth.
He had told her to do a good job, but she really wasn't going to have a chance to do anything but try to breathe while he fucked her pretty mouth.
When he first started he tried to be easy, but every time her tongue touched him it made him lose more and 100
more self control, until he was stuffing her throat, his cock buried to the hilt.
She gagged a few times, but mostly she was quiet, just the muffled sound of her trying to breathe around him.
He looked down at her and her eyes were open, just like he'd taught her to do. He jerked as her tongue traced the vein under his cock, and he felt his balls resting on her chin, pleasantly tightening, readying to unload into her throat.
Soon he felt his cock throbbing in ecstasy. Mayree's blue eyes were watering as she struggled to swallow and breathe. Finally he pulled his spent cock out of her mouth. She'd done a damn good job swallowing, just a trickle of cum was running from the corner of her mouth, and she looked even prettier like that.
Reaching back, he ran his hand between her spread thighs, she was soaking wet. Nothing better than a woman who gets wet from having a cock in her throat.
Stolen Property: The Abduction of Mayree Jacobs Page 9
