Feeling emotionally vulnerable standing silently before him, I awkwardly announced, "This is all of it, I guess. If I come across anything else of yours at my place, I'll give you a call."
He scooped up the box into his arms and scanned its contents. As he caught sight of his thick leather belt coiled into a corner of the corrugated cardboard, a fiendish smirk overtook his mouth and he asked smugly yet playfully, "Are you sure you don't want to keep this? I imagine you'd have more fun with it than I would."
My face combusted with a crimson flush as I recalled how he had used his belt to fetter me to my headboard while "raping" me. Force play was new to me and he had been the first man I had trusted enough to ask to play the rapist in fulfilling my fantasy. Now I regretted ever trusting him -- not with my body, but with my heart. How ironic that the best sex of my life was had with the man who had also given my most painful heartbreak ever.
Shaking my head, I replied, "No. It's yours. Take it -- all of it."
"You want me to take all of it?" he raised an eyebrow, reminding me of his old cockiness.
"Yes," I insisted.
In a single motion, he swiftly swept my hands behind my back. Cold leather encircled my wrists. Still stunned, I hardly had the time to struggle as he buckled his belt tautly, paralysing my arms. His hands, always so strong, forced me against the wall, his fingers impressing themselves deeply into my twitching shoulders.
As he drew nearer to me, I gasped in confusion, "What are you doing?!"
Grinning wickedly, he hissed, "Taking it all."
Immediately incensed by how arrogant and presumptuous he was, I jabbed at his legs with my knees. Annoyed, he jerked my head against the wall, not too roughly, as this was only his way of scolding me, but it was enough to temporarily knock me off balance. Feeling like I was experiencing a minor form of whiplash, I closed my eyes and commanded weakly, "Uhn . . . stop it . . ."
Taking advantage of my dizziness, he grabbed me behind the knees and held my legs around his waist. Forcing himself against me even harder, I could feel his erection like a boilingly hot iron rod teasing the wetness within my panties. My skirt was hanging from my waist, exposing my flimsy thong. I jerked my hips furiously, tryign to squirm out of his trap, but the sight of me twisting and panting combined with the feeling of my now puffy pussy rubbing against his throbbing member only icreased his excitement. With a burst of strength, he tugged on the side string of my thong, which snapped, stinging my hip and ripping my panties open.
Vainly, I made one last attempt at preventing penetration as I squeezed my thighs together as tightly as I could. Of course by now, I was fighting myself more than I was fighting him. No matter how badly I wanted him, I refused to accept it, refused to allow myself to fuck my heartless ex -- at least not "willingly".
--The End--