Page 11 of Stalking His Prey

This isn’t right. I should not be enjoying this.

But I can’t fool myself.

Being taken and ravaged by this man who has kidnapped me is phenomenal. It’s thrilling beyond belief. There’s something so animalistic about it–like I’m a female in heat, viciously pursued by a male who wants to take me, breed me, and make me his mate.

Being lusted over with this total brutality is mind-numbingly hot.

The next thing I know, I’m hit by a feeling of emptiness and loss as the masked man slides his enormous manhood out of me. He grasps my hips and easily turns me over so I’m lying on my stomach.

That feeling of loss is instantly remedied as he drives his cock back inside me. And this time, from this angle, it’s like he’s going to spear straight through my stomach.

Oh, Lord have mercy. I’m already starting to get there again…

He hoists my hips up so my ass is in the air, then spanks my right cheek hard enough that I flinch involuntarily. The pure shock and unexpected jolt of pain somehow acts like an accelerant, enhancing the feelings of indescribable pleasure that have already captured me like a fly in a spider’s web. And although I just came, I feel another orgasm rushing up on me like a train ready to go off the tracks.

“Your pussy loves me. Your lips grab my cock as I’m fucking you,” the man grunts.

Oh my God! Women would pay this man vast sums of money to talk dirty to them. He could make a fortune. “That’s a fresh virgin hole right there.”

I’m still shaking from my last orgasm, and yet his continuing praise continues to spur me on.

Barely able to believe it myself, I go off again.

My next orgasm rocks me even harder than the first, causing my knees to collapse out from under me. I fall face first into the pillow, but my captor crushes down on top of me, keeping his cock buried deep inside my dripping hole.

Is that his tip grinding against my cervix?

“I love feeling that cunt coming on my cock,” he growls.

My abs go tight, forcing out groan after groan as I come all over his engorged shaft. He ceases his pounding and grinds as deep as he can go, rutting inside me as my wet folds contracts on him.

“Yes, that’s a good girl,” he whispers with approval. “You really are a little freak, Penelope. You’re lucky you met me.”

I can’t even process his words as my orgasm sweeps all rational thought from my mind like a massive twister chewing through farmland.

I clench my fists until I can’t stand it any longer, then let out a long, exultant breath as I start to regain my senses.

This isn’t right.

I should not be loving this.

This man stalked me, chased me, kidnapped me, and now he has taken my virginity, and yet I’m ferociously turned on by him and just came twice on his cock.

An aftershock of my orgasm hits me and causes my body to twitch. My kidnapper lets out a groan of satisfaction and rolls me onto my side.

“Look at those curves. Someone should sculpt you out of marble, gorgeous. That’s how beautiful you are.”

Stop talking to me like that, I want to scream at him.

Or do I?

Maybe that’s just my guilt talking. Maybe I just need to accept that this is what I want—that this is the kind of girl I am.

And if so, what’s wrong with that?

Should I be ashamed of what turns me on?

The masked man continues to thrust inside me with long, deliberate strokes, then grabs one of my cheeks and spreads me open, giving himself a better view of all the action. He groans long and hard when he sees everything.

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