Brute – Day One, Pt. 1 by deadmanshand

A literotic sexstories: Brute – Day One, Pt. 1 by deadmanshand ,
Alright, boys and girls. This is not my first story but it is my first story of this nature. It’s something of an experiment of mine. Right now I know the story is still a little rough as this is a rough draft. This is straight from my head to the computer screen. I might be putting this up a little early but honestly I wanted to see what people actually thought of it before giving it a polishing re-write. So feedback is good.Brute

Day One

I’ve always found the dark comforting and I know I can’t be the only one. The very language we use shows it. Blanket of night… cover of darkness… these are words of comfort. Words of concealment and safety. The mantra of all those who wish to hide – to avoid notice. I know these feelings well.

Monsters do not survive in the light.

And tonight I was going to be a monster.

The thought made my heart pound. Sweat beaded on my cheeks. Every breath came deep and heavy. My cock was a bar of steel. The world was balanced on the edge of a knife – razor sharp and eager for blood.

Every sense was alive. A cool northern wind sent shivers through anxious muscles. Damp earth and fallen rain filled my nostrils. Mud pressed against the fever hot soles of my feet. Above the stars shown bright and clear in the sky as they only do over farmland. Only the wind echoed in my ears.

Behind me was my private little hideaway. An old farmhouse built around a frame of concrete. Well kept but unremarkable. Even if it could be seen from the road no one would remark on it. It was solid as a rock, soundproof, and a mile from the closest neighbor.

It was perfect.

Wiping my feet carefully on the entry mat I slipped in the back door. The door made no noise and the lock little more as it slid home. It opened directly into my bedroom. A sparse affair. A simple queen sized mattress with an old wrought iron designed headboard. Sheets black and wrinkled matching the faded pillowcases. A closet on the far side of the room held all my clothing. Besides it rested the somewhat generous bathroom I had added to the building.

The only real feature of note was the sectional computer desk and all that it held. An older desktop dominated the space but there was also a playstation, a laptop, and a tablet all plugged in and held on it. Next to those were two newer smartphones in designer cases. All three computers showed related files. The lives of my special guests all laid out as pretty as a picture.

I didn’t need to read them again. I had committed them to memory over the last two weeks. I knew more about their lives they did.

Lastly I focused on the doorway leading out of my room into the kitchen and from there into the living room. Where they waited for me. Stepping through that doorway would be the point of no return. If I thought my heart was pounding earlier it felt like it might burst now. Felt like a kid about to pop his fucking cherry.

You know what to do, a voice whispered inside me and it was right.

Decision made I reached down and pulled the long sleeved t-shirt off. It landed on the bed. My hands never fumbled with my belt. They were all too eager as I hooked my thumbs in the sides and slid pants and briefs off in the same motion. My cock bobbed in the cool air – harder now than ever. This wasn’t a fuck hard. This was monster hard.

Naked as the day I was born I stepped through into the kitchen. Breaths coming deep and harsh. Pulse beating out it’s relentless rhythm in my head. Drops of cum leaked from my cock. Felt like my veins were on fire. One more step and I was there.

And so were they.

Erin and Sara Waller. Mother and daughter. Both ziptied, gagged, and wearing a black bag over her head. Both belonging to me.

Erin was ziptied to a stripped down weight bench. Hands attached to the supports at the top and her feet to the leg curl bar. The little black dress she wore did nothing to hide her figure. She showed little of her thirty eight years. Her legs were toned with creamy smooth skin. Her tits were full and aching for my hands. A hint of lace peaked from between her legs where the dress had ridden up. Helpless, muffled little noises escaped from beneath the hood causing my dick to twitch.

Sara Waller was in a decent little desk chair with her hands bound to the armrests and her feet to the main support of the seat. She was wearing a thin t-shirt that showed off her pretty little tits and cutesy little pink sleeping bottoms. Even (maybe even especially) while bound she still had that pseudo innocent “come fuck me” look some teenage girls had. Last week had been her sweet seventeen.

I caught myself absently stroking my cock. It took an effort of will to stop. My flesh was burning. Nerves on fire. Muscles taut – eager to be put to use.

For a moment I closed my eyes – blocking out the sight of them. Forcing slow, deep deliberate breaths. It took several before I felt my body settle but even then I knew I was different right now. Light. Hollow. Almost delirious.

But shouldn’t I feel like a madman? I was throwing away 31 years of other people’s rules.

In control again I started towards them absent mindedly flicking on the stereo on the sole table in the room. Soft classical music floated free of the speakers. My gaze flickered down and made sure my supplies were ready. Zipties, boxcutter, and a first aid kit.

All ready. Time to start.

Both were making delicious noises now but I had eyes for Erin alone. I’d never remember those last steps. One moment I was watching and the next I was next to her. Close enough to smell the sweat and the fear. Close enough to watch her muscles bunch beneath her skin as she bucked against the bindings.

Beautiful.

In one swift motion I pulled the bag from her head. Erin’s eyes were wide, blue as the sky, and wet with tears. Virulently red hair just shy of shoulder length framed a cold, angular face. With a second motion I pulled the gag from between rich, full lips.

“Good evening, Erin,” the words should have shook with all the emotions flying through me but they came out calm. Polite.

“Who the fuck are you?” she snapped trying to sound angry but her chest was pumping fast and shallow.

I shouldn’t have expected her to remember me but part of me did. The rage was white hot. Blinding. Lightning from a clear sky. My fist lashed out driving the scarred knuckles hard against her ribs. She screamed – high and loud – convulsing against the bench.

“Was it too much to hope that you’d fucking remember me?!” I shouted leaning down to look her in the face. “Are you that fucking oblivious, you fucking cunt?! Can’t remember the face of a man you humiliated?!”

Her eyes were wider than ever and searching my face. Trying to place me. Trying so hard to figure who I was. And failing.

My fist was cocked but I stopped the punch before it ever started. My jaw clenched and I looked away staring at the concrete wall. When I turned back I flashed a quick smile and unclenched my fist. Reaching down I stroked the soft, tear stained cheek as she watched me with terror in her eyes.

“You make me forget myself, Erin. We’ll have to do something about that tongue of yours,” the words came almost chidingly as I pulled back and looked down at her.

For the first time my nakedness registered in her. Blue eyes caught by the bobbing of my cock. Wheels turning in her head. I could see the thought moving through her. She thought this was about rape.

I almost laughed. It wasn’t a bad guess. She was going to be fucked. They both were. But that was just part of it. This was about so much more.

Erin opened her mouth but I cut her off and said, “I know you have questions but let’s get Sara in on this first. I don’t like repeating myself.”

The color drained from her face at Sara’s name and all I could think was, ‘So she does care about her. Good.’

Three steps later I stood next to the teen’s chair. She was struggling hard now – jerking her arms against the ties. Grunts could be heard past the gag. Sweat rolled down her neck. The bag may have prevented her from seeing what was happening but it didn’t stop her from hearing it.

Reaching out I lightly brushed her shoulder and Sara jumped hard enough the chair came off the floor for just a second. A muffled scream fought through the canvas. My lips stretched into a grin. I touched her again – this time along the hollow of her throat. She jerked back as hard as she could and for a second the chair balanced on edge before toppling over.

I caught it before it hit the floor. My body was alert. Quick. Barely had to think before it was in my hands and set upright.

“Sara, Sara, Sara,” I spoke softly shaking my head. “I don’t think you should do that again. We can’t have that pretty head smacking into the concrete now can we?”

The bagged head shook vigorously. When I placed my hand on her arm she jumped a little but it was much more controlled. She shivered with every movement of my hand up her arm. Soon I was rubbing at her upper arm and I could feel Erin’s eyes boring into my back.

Give her something to watch.

I slid behind Sara’s chair and leaned down till my head was resting against hers. My hands worked their way to shoulders. Gentle. Massaging. I could feel her pulse slowing under my touch.

My eyes met Erin’s. She was straining her neck just to keep an eye on us. Her face was red – blood filled and flushed from anger and exertion. Lips locked in a grimace. My cock twitched and I smiled.

“See it’s not so bad is it, Sara?” I whispered into her ear as I worked her over. She wasn’t the first woman to enjoy my work. An actual masseuse had taught me a lot once upon a time, I had strong hands, and I could be patient. It was a combination that had won me my fair share of fucks.

Taking away her sense of sight just made it better.

After the first minute Erin dropped her head back to the bench and stared at the ceiling. I just kept working till a small sigh reached my ears. The teen ever so slightly started to arch pushing herself into my hands. A hand surreptitiously placed over her heart felt the beat speeding up.

For nearly 10 minutes this went on. By then she was pushing shamelessly against my hands. Erin looked up once or twice face darkening before dropping back down. Sara finally started to breathe quicker. The breaths heavier.

If my smile was any wider it would have torn my cheeks.

Leaning in closer I let my breath blow hot and hard against the crook of her neck. She smelled like lilacs and lust. Slowly I slid my hand across her collarbone and then down the front of her shirt. Her nipple was rubbing against my palm before she knew what was happening. Sara arched her back in surprise pushing her tit into my waiting hand and I leaned forward clamping a soft bite onto the tender skin of her throat. She shuddered once hard and then let loose a small cry.

Erin’s head snapped up as she watched her daughter cum in my hands. Now her mouth was open. Disbelief warring openly with the anger. She didn’t know who to stare at. Her daughter or the monster who had made her cry out.

As Sara recovered I pulled the bag from her head and the gag from her mouth. Her lips parted as she took a deep breath. Felt like I could watch that all day. In her face she looked much like her mother. Fine boned with sharp, high cheekbones but there was something warmer about her. Fresher. A mop of blonde hair tumbled well past her shoulders. Her eyes though were the same bright blue as her mother’s.

“And hello, Sara,” I said warmly.

She took me in with a wide eyed look. Her gaze flickered to my hard cock – only a foot or so from her pretty face – and back up at my face. Her lips parted as she started to speak and stopped. After a couple of false starts she managed to speak.

“H-hello…” Sara’s voice was weak. Unsteady.

“See, Erin? Basic courtesy,” I said looking at her as I gestured towards her daughter. “It’s not a skill you are adept at, I know, but it is nice to see that at least one woman in your family can manage it.”

If looks could kill…

“But I suppose you are both wondering why I have gathered you here today and I have delayed long enough,” my words were practiced as I started to pace – both sets of eyes focused on me. “The short answer is because you chose to be here.”

Anger, denial, and suspicion played across Erin’s face. It was a method actor’s study on emotion. Watching each emotion turn into the other with a visible ripple of the facial muscles. As amped up as I was it may as well have been in slow motion.

“What do you mean?”

It wasn’t Erin who had spoken – it was Sara. She was staring up at me with big, liquid eyes. There was a little fear in the quiver of her voice but there was something else. Something curious. Something hungry. The part of her that remembered how I’d made her feel.

I squatted down till my face was only inches from hers and I asked simply, “Do you recognize me, Sara?”

Brow furrowed she studied my face intently and it only took her a moment before she said surprised, “You’re Ryan… the guy from the game store my brother shops at.”

Nodding I continued, “And do you remember how your mother treats me? Every. Single. Time. You. Come. In.”

Her eyes widened as I started spitting the words out and she said, “The same way she treats everyone?”

I couldn’t help it. I threw back my head and laughed. It was a hard, barking sound. When the bout passed and leaned forward those last few inches and pressed my lips to hers. There was a moment of resistance – of shock – but then her lips greeted mine. Tasting me.

“Sara!” Erin snapped and the teen broke away from our kiss to look at her mother. “You’re kissing a fucking pervert who has to kidnap women just to fucking get any!”

Before she could say anything else I was next to the weight bench with my fist buried in her stomach. The air rushed from her lips killing her scream as it was born. My other hand grabbed her jaw and brought her face around to mine. Erin’s anger died as she saw the look on my face.

“This! This is why you are here,” I hissed squeezing her jaw hard enough that it began to creak. “Insults and condemnations. Pretending you’re better than everyone you deal with. Treating people like fucking objects!”

My voice got louder as I spoke till the last was shouted directly into her face from only inches away. I was shaking. Eyes burning. Jaw tight as a fucking wire. As we sat there something dawned in her eyes. She thought I was rapist. Now she’s thinking I might be something worse.

She’s right.

“Everything about you is tainted by this undeserved sense of entitlement. By this arrogance you wear like a fucking perfume,” I growled out each word. “You think you’re better than every single person you deal with from your husband to the bagger at the grocery store. A gift from God forced to deal with idiots and slackers.”

I slammed her head into the bench, stood, and said, “You won’t believe that when I’m through with you.”

I expected my voice to be cold when I said that but it wasn’t. It was flat. Dead. A simple statement of fact. Tears pouring from her eyes but still meeting my gaze it was clear that – at least for that moment – she believed me.

Taking a deep breath my gaze drifted over to Sara. The fear was stronger in her but not as much as expected. And while she was watching us intently there was no sign of outrage. No anger. Just fear and concern but nothing for her mother.

Interesting.

“You know what I’m talking about don’t you, Sara?” her head jerked up when I spoke to her. “All the insults and absent minded cruelty. You’ve seen it haven’t you?”

She was quiet but nodded after a long moment.

My smile came back like she’d switched a light on and I looked back down at Erin. She was still hurting but she wouldn’t take her eyes off me. I extended a hand and she tried to shy away from it but the cunt had nowhere to go. Fingers curled up in her fake red hair and pulled sharply. Holding her neck at a bad angle but still letting her see me.

The pain in her eyes was too much for me. We could talk later.

My other hand gripped the front of her dress and pulled hard. For a few brief seconds it resisted and then it tore with a long ripping sound. Another hard yank or two and the dress was a tattered mass in my hand. An 800 dollar rag. The body underneath was the best that surgery and a personal trainer could afford. A 28 inch waist and double D’s in her blace lace bra – a match to the panties. Her skin was flawless. Pale and smooth but marred by two red and swiftly darkening places along her ribs and just above her belly button.

Cattle brands.

She was trying to pull away now. Fighting me… gravity… the plastic holding her to the bench. Bucking hard. Pushing those toned abs to their limits. Thrashing until sweat ran down her chest.

My hand grasped the clasp of her bra and pushed down till she was flat against the padded bench. My eyes bored into hers as I casually flipped the catch and let the bra fall open. Her tits were beautiful. Surgically perfected to defy age. Full and taut with only a hint of sagging to them and topped with eager little rosebud nipples.

She shuddered as my lips closed over one stiff nipple – her head still held in place by my fist. Forcing her to watch every movement through tears. The feel of her in my mouth set my nerves a light. Every bump, ridge, and wrinkle of that bud stood out against my tongue. Without warning I bit down. Erin screamed and bucked like a horse.

I let her tortured tit fall from my mouth and swung a leg over the bench. For the first time my cock touched her – brushing against the tight skin between her tits. A soft moan left my lips as I painted a trail of pre-cum across her to the hollow of her throat. There, inches away from her soon to be fucked mouth, I paused.

“Let me tell you how this is going to work, Erin. I’m going to skullfuck you and you’re going to let me. Hell you’re going to help me. Because if you don’t I will sit on your chest, push my cock as deep as I can into that tiny throat of yours, and let you choke to death on it. The last thing you’ll feel is me cumming in you. Do you understand me?”

She tried nodding but my grip was too tight.

“I can’t hear you, Erin. Tell me you understand me. Tell me: ‘Yes, Ryan. I understand.'”

“Y-yes, R-ryan. I understand,” she could barely get the words out she was crying so hard.

Slowly I pushed my hips forward till the head of my cock parted her lips. Sobs wracked her as she opened up and let me slide into her waiting mouth. Erin must have taken my words to heart because as soon as I was in she locked her lips around my shaft and went to work. Her cheeks billowed and hollowed as she sucked. Her tongue lapped at the sensitive spot just under the head. All hot and wet and sobbing as she did everything in her power to get me off.

It was the best blowjob I’d ever had. Felt like I was boiling in my skin. All heat and nerves and excitement. The man in me wanted this to last forever but a part of me – the brute in me – wanted to do what I’d threatened to. It was all too much.

Grabbing her head with both hands I started to facefuck her hard and fast. Each thrust pushing deep into her throat – my balls slapping against her chin. Erin sobbed and struggled to breath milking my cock. Breath coming quick. Stomach tightening. Grunting with every slam forward. World shaking.

And then I threw my head back and blasted jets of cum down her throat. My body shook. Shuddering as everything went dark. Fucking my cum into her by instinct. Sound gone and – for a moment – the world was still. Perfect. A far cry from the pain.

When I finally came to I pulled myself from Erin’s battered lips and slid bonelessly to the cold concrete floor. I just stared up at the ceiling with a true smile on my lips. Somewhere in the background the sound of her coughing could be heard but it wasn’t important. For the first time in my life my mind was absolutely clear. No rules. No guilt. I’d spent my whole life hiding in the closet and this was my coming out party.

Laughter – loud and joyous – echoed off the bare walls.