Submitting to Cetera Read online

  Submitting to Cetera

  Shayla Ayers

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. All fictional characters are of 18 years of age or older and consenting adults.

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  ADULT CONTENT

  FOR ADULTS 18 YEARS AND OLDER

  Smashwords Edition © 2015 Shayla Ayers in association with Exploited Publishing (www.exploitedpublishing.com)

  All Printed and Electronic Reserved

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  “The mall closes in about an hour,” Patrick whispered to himself.

  For the past few hours he’s been walking back and forth in front of La Vida Lingerie periodically since he arrived, eyeing his target from afar.

  He can see her in there sometimes, smiling that eye-catching smile of hers at customers, using her extensive allure to sell them an extra pair of panties or a more expensive bra.

  Sometimes when he looks in, she's behind the counter, and other times she's out of sight – likely helping someone get measured for a new sexy garment in one of the changing rooms. Helping them prepare for a night of romance.

  As the day falls to a close and customers start to diminish, he finally makes his move. Slipping into the store while Sarah's occupied with a young customer, he moves quickly and quietly past the racks of silks and satins towards the back room, where he knows there's a utility closet.

  He’s been here several times before and this time he’s ready.

  Drawing the door closed behind him, settling down into a low crouch on the floor, he waits for the store to close. He watched her enough and knows her schedule, he knows she’s closing up alone tonight, and he knows this is the night to make his move.

  He’s come prepared.

  Hands in his camo jacket. Fingers stroking the length of nylon rope, as his other hand grasps is the roll of duct tape, and the zip-ties.

  For several minutes, the only thing he hears is his own breath, the thumping of his heart as he waits for just the right moment, ready to attack his prey when the time is right.

  “Should be time,” he whispers, eyes gliding over the green illuminate on his watch, “2100 exactly.”

  The mall closes at 2100, and from his previous experience watching his quarry, he knows her routine, the cleaning up of the store, cashing out the drawer, when the gate drops and locked and the backdoor she uses to exit the building.

  Still – he gives her another five minutes, wanting to be sure all customers have departed. He wants – needs – her to be alone, to feel safe and secure before turning her world upside down.

  He’s prepared for his prey to resist, futile as it may be.

  There's a nice amount of gym-built muscle on his frame, he's lean and fast due to years spent in the military. He runs a hand across his shaved scalp, liking his lips, he remains vigilant. A few deep breaths are audible in the tight, quiet space of the closet, and then he flexes up to his full height.

  He smiles a little bit, as he considers his next actions. The next few moments play out in his mind repeatedly.

  He feels like a criminal, like a villain... and to him it feels oddly arousing.

  Silently opening the door, he takes a step out into the back room. It's a combination office/break room, and there's a desk, with a computer, a small sofa, and a countertop with a microwave and mini-fridge on top

  The aroma of old popcorn is in the air, but it's faint, as he slips through the room and peers out into the sales floor, the gate has been locked, the lights dimmed.

  Eyes slowly sweep the store's floor in search of his targets ravishing brown hair, and soon enough he spots her, locking onto his prey. She is up towards the front, midway between a few tables and locked gate, re-arranging silk-laced panties into a display. He can hear her lightly humming along with the soft, neutral pop music that is piped into the speakers hidden throughout the ceiling.

  He has always liked her voice, soft and sweet. His breath catches slightly at the idea of hearing it raised in tension – hot, sensual moans, or even cries of fear, and for a moment, he reconsiders the planned course of action.

  Yet, thankfully, the moment fades quickly.

  Sarah finishes tidying the panties display, her head lifting, glances around, clearly looking for another mess to straighten before counting out her cash and heading home for the evening. She seems to spot something, and turns away, back turned towards him, he sees his opening and takes it. Without further thought, the 'attacker' is on the prowl, closing the distance between himself and the sweet little piece of ass silently and with haste.

  Just as Sarah reaches out to grab a bra so she can move it to its proper rack, she feels his presence, a cold chill of fear rushing down her spine. Before she can turn, he is pressed up against her, his hard, strong chest pushed against her back. An arm wrapping around her waist, hand slipping up to roughly seize her breast. His other clamps down over her mouth, and she can feel his breath hot and harsh against her ear as he speaks in a low, almost growling tone.

  “Don't scream.” His voice is somewhat familiar, but there's a tone she's never heard before. It's almost scary. It lacks any warmth, or a calming timbre. His hand is rough on her tit – squeezing and kneading hard enough to be almost unpleasant.

  His fingers on her mouth tighten more, mashing her lips and tugging her jaw with their intensity. She doesn't scream, but her breathing is harsh and rapid through her nose. She can feel her nipple hardening under his hand despite the thread of uncertainty in her subconscious.

  He doesn't say anything else right away.

  Instead, he holds her close and turns, forcing her to turn with him. She spots dog tags resting upon his chest that read ‘Cetera.’

  “It’s him,” she gasps, body tensing, heart racing, she knows not to protest.

  After a moment's consideration, he decides where to go – and he shoves her towards the back of the sales floor. Sarah gasps as she is released, pushed roughly, stumbling slightly in her heels as she comes upon the table where she had neatly arranged the panties.

  It's big, made of heavy inlaid marble, almost altar-like in its dimensions. Bumping into it, she reaches out to brace herself, barely regaining her footing before he crushes up against her.

  This time, he presses one hand into her back, between her shoulder blades. She feels herself being shoved forwards, cheek pressed into the silky cushion of stacks of new panties. Her hands clutch for purpose, scattering the new underwear everywhere – but that's the least of her fears, as a rough, probing hand hikes her skirt up over her ass exposing her tight fitting panties.

  His hand disappears from her back.

  “Don't fucking move..
.,” he growls, that unfamiliar tinge of danger making her squirm. She stays down, fear of the unknown hardening her she finds herself unable to move as both hands brace upon the cool marble tabletop; her ass pushed outwards towards him.

  For a moment, his touch disappears entirely – but then she feels a hand on her hip and the cold press of what can only be a blade against the opposite thigh.

  “Shhhh...” he whispers, snaking the flat of the knife up along her thigh to slip beneath the side of her panties. The sharp, silver blade slices with ease through the satin with an almost inaudible whisper, and she feels goose bumps break out across the small of her back. He repeats the process on the other side, and then pulls the useless scrap of cloth out from between her legs, bringing it around so he can show it to her.

  “These are soaked,” he notes, wicked amusement evident in his words. “Aren't you a filthy little girl?”

  Sarah squirms, shifting her weight and shivering a little from the conditioned air, which whips across her bare ass and admittedly drenched, upturned pussy. Finding the courage, she opens her mouth to speak, to protest, but before she can say anything, she feels her own underwear shoved in between her teeth.

  She grunts, recoiling from the invasion of his fingers and the Sarah-flavored satin... but soon her mouth is full. He pulls away from her only long enough to pull something from his pocket, and the telltale sound of duct-tape being torn immediately follows.

  A wide strip of silver is pressed over her lips, then – holding her gag firmly in place and muffling her whimpers. He doesn't apply the tape terribly tightly, it's obvious he wants her to be able to breathe... but the sticky, heavy nature of the tape and the taste of her own juices on her tongue make her whine plaintively.

  He steps back from her, observing his work so far.

  She is bent over the table, that perfectly round, deliciously pale ass tilted up invitingly. Rounded, taut tits smashed into the tabletop as the thought of that creamy flesh has his cock already hard and straining at his jeans.

  He shrugs out of his jacket, snagging the zip-ties from the pocket before stepping in behind her once more. Sarah whines and arches her back, her weight shifting so he can see the pink slit of her shimmering-wet pussy flex wider.

  His mouth waters a little at the sight, and he licks his lips. Patrick presses his still-clothed groin up against her, nudging her naked slit with his bulge before reaching out and seizing her right arm so he can tug it around to the small of her back.

  He's rough enough to show he is serious.

  He doesn't want to hurt her – but he has to admit – this is turning out to be much hotter than planned. The sight of her helpless and breathless is extremely poignant. She doesn't fight him when he moves her arm, though a little resistance would have been a little more arousing. Grabbing the other arm, he pulls it back to join its twin.

  “Ahhh,” she squeals a bit sharply as he binds her wrists with the zip-tie, but again, he leaves it loose enough that she can fight back, if she finds the courage.

  Grinding his cock into her, he can feel her nectar saturating his pants, leaving a wet mark over the hard swell.

  He likes how she feels – hot and ready – her spicy perfume filling the air around them enticing him to take her right there, but he has much more to do.

  Instead of unfastening his belt, dropping down into a crouch again and takes hold of her ass cheeks, pulling them apart, closely examining her pretty snatch to his hungry view.

  She's swollen, wet, and perfectly pink.

  It's clear she's been recently waxed, and her sweet little hole glistens and flexes with anticipation. He drinks in the sight, taking slow, deep breaths so he can savor the sweet scent of her arousal.

  Sarah whimpers wistfully against the table, eyes rolling up in their sockets as she feels herself being put on display. It's both embarrassing and thrilling, and that just makes her wetter.

  “Mmm,” he growls, slipping two fingers up along her slippery pussy then presses them inside. He goes slow... teasing her... and she moans and clenches around his digits.

  He lazily finger-fucks her a few times, then pulls his fingers out and stands up. Leaning over her, he holds his wet fingers near her face.

  “Look what you did!” He says, playfully teasing the bound, gagged, desperate woman underneath him.

  “Filthy girl.” Sarah's eyes are wide as she looks at his hand, and he takes that opportunity to gauge her feelings. It's clear she's wound up, and a little bit unsure... but he can tell she's totally into it. He smiles. This is good.

  “I wonder if you taste as good as you feel,” he muses. Hands trace the outer curves of her still-clothed tits, her ribs, and her naked hips as he crouches down behind her once again.

  He wants to experience how she tastes... and he loves it... making a big deal out of taking slow breaths near her quivering lips. His tongue is tentative at first – teasing the twitching edge of her pussy, and then sliding upwards to barely tickle her clitoris.

  He sucks that sensitive little crux for a couple of seconds as her knees go weak.

  Mouth opens wide, letting his tongue slide inside her, it curls and laps up the abundant honey it finds. He murmurs appreciatively at the taste, eyes closing and hands tightening on the firm curves of her hips.

  He knows he could stay down there all night – but he isn't here for that, he’s here to claim her, mark his territory as his and his only.

  Soon, he stands up again and unfastens his belt, pants falling down around his ankles, pulling his heavy, hard, and now-dripping cock free. He steps up close to Sarah once more, this time letting the silken heat of his dick rest against her needy little pussy.

  It feels familiar – yet bigger and harder. It's so hot, and as it prods her, ass instinctively lifting, fists clenching, fighting her bonds just slightly as she tries to offer herself to him.

  She is no longer his prey, no longer his victim but his coconspirator.

  Yet, even though she's drenched with desire, she's half-afraid he'll hurt her, stretch her cruelly around that massive, heavy cock.

  Still – she wants it. Needs, desires it.

  Oh, yes. He can tell, too – he can smell her want and see the evidence smeared across her pussy and leaking down on to her inner thighs.

  “It’s time,” he growls eagerly.

  Grabbing her by the hips again, then thrusts hard forward.

  His dick stretches her wide open, and she grunts as he pushes it home without any forewarning.

  He's balls-deep immediately, then pulling back again, only to thrust forward once more.

  Again…,

  And again.

  Soon, he's fucking her vigorously, shoving her hard against the table and scattering panties with each powerful pump of his hips.

  He tugs her into each pounding roughly, and she feels herself sliding back and forth on the table's surface, her pussy slapped by his balls with each collision of their bodies.

  Sarah is driven without mercy towards orgasm, and as she cums, she does it hard enough to make her clench her teeth roughly on the panties in her mouth.

  She squeals, screaming into her gag, the sound muffled by the wet satin and strip of tape.

  She's a little bit grateful for it, to be honest! Barely able to recover from the first wave before another one clutches her, and despite his considerable girth, she's so wet that he slips out on his next thrust. She can feel the mess dripping down her legs, and the wet thud of his cock when he slaps it on her ass makes her shiver.

  “I'm going to cum,” he announces, wrapping his hand into her hair, taking hold of her wrists he pulls upwards.

  Sarah trembles, eyes closing as she enjoys the sensation.

  Yet, before she can fully regain her senses, he turns her around to face him, reaching up to grip the edge of the tape against her cheek. He begins to slowly pull it free – but pauses as it reaches the corner of her mouth.

  “I'll un-gag you, if you be a good girl and let me finish in that sexy m
outh.” Patrick says holding eye contact.

  Sarah's green eyes are steady on his blue ones, and she can sense the sweet smile behind his rape play. He does a good job of masking it immediately, but she can sense his concern for her happiness even as he's waiting for her inevitable agreement to his offer.

  She nods (as expected), and he finishes peeling the tape free.

  He does so carefully – the tape sticky enough to tug without injuring her skin. He pulls the wad of wet cloth free, and then ducks in to put a quick, reassuring kiss on her lips before merging back to character.

  “Good girl,” he growls, nodding and reaching up to push down on her shoulder.

  Sarah lowers herself into a crouch, bindings instantly throwing her off balance; she falls on her knees instead.

  Mouth opening obediently, he seizes her hair once again. Pulling her in close, she can smell their mingled scents on his dick – heavy, musky, and wet.

  “Suck me.” He demands, and without a second to protest, he's in her mouth. Jaw dropping wide, throat relaxing quickly, but he's thrusting almost immediately.

  He uses her mouth like he did her pussy – hands guiding her head for quick, nearly brutal thrusts.

  Her jaw will ache tomorrow, and her lips swollen. Her eyes squeeze closed, and she breathes raggedly through her nose as she submits to his aggression.

  Thankfully, he was very close.

  Only a few moments pass before she feels him twitching, and his harsh use slows as he begins to build towards release.

  He throat-fucks her deeply enough to make her gag once or twice, but then he thrusts quickly, twice, pushing in the second time, he erupts.

  Clearly, this encounter has been more than arousing for him... she feels at least three heavy spurts of his seed gush out across her tongue and into her mouth. Before she can contain it or swallow, it's oozing out of the corners of her mouth, and when he pulls back in preparation for one final, savoring thrust, he pulls a thick glop of his cum free, leaving it to drip down over her chin in pearlescent ooze.

  He stays in her mouth until every drop has been savored. Sarah lets her tongue work to lick at him in slow, appreciative strokes, and she swallows whatever cum managed to stay in her mouth.