The Bull

[Britwitch]

All too soon the hand in her hair forced her to stop what she was doing and led her to a new position. Bridget felt her breath catch in her throat as she was lowered and bent, face against the slightly scratchy fabric that covered the mattress and her behind high behind her. His hand left her hair and she sensed him moving. She thought she knew what was coming...what she hoped was coming.
The slaps to her buttocks cracked loudly in the air and before the sting had fully spread across the skin, he was buried inside her. Her moan of enjoyment muffled slightly as the force of his entry drove her a little more firmly into the mattress.

He took her, deeply and firmly and Bridget found her back arching to try and take him deeper still. She didn't fight or struggle, her arms unbound merely rested by her face on the mattress. Fingers curling against the padding as his angle changed and her clit throbbed with each blistering connection of their bodies.
She was wet, before he moved her off his cock, and now every stroke seemed to make her wetter still. There could be no doubt that she was enjoying this, his use of her. Whimpered sounds and half managed words being absorbed by her bedding but in the back of her mind she hoped he heard them all.

She wanted to beg him to take her harder, to plead for him not to stop, but no words came. Again she was listening, desperate to hear him. Hear the voice she was so eager to experience. A sigh, a groan, even a muttered expletive would be enough for her. She needed something of his. Of him. That was all she wanted in return for letting him take all of her that he wanted. Giving herself to him.

His arm suddenly wrapped around her and a large hand captured her breast, the other pushing her head even more firmly down onto the mattress. With those two actions alone she felt a fresh wave of heat and excitement flood her sex. She could feel his need, his want. The pummelling of his hips different now. This was primal and total. She was his. Would probably always be.
His shaft felt almost bruising in it's speed, she knew she would feel him long after this was finished. She would ache for him and she knew that was his intent. Showing her her place. Her purpose.

Then it came, a grunt. Low and lusty and surprisingly loud, a split second before heat scalded her insides. She let out a whine as he ploughed into her again and again, ensuring every drop of him was pumped as deeply as possible. When at last his hips slowed and then stopped altogether, she was trembling beneath him.
His palm felt oddly warm and smooth as it stroked across her and she sighed. So tender a touch. So...intimate, even more so than his brutal use of her.

And then he was gone.

As the sound of the door shutting reverberated around the room, Bridget found herself struggling to hold back tears.
But despite what she had been through, these were not tears of fear. Or pain.
With the first drops of his seed leaking out between the folds of her sex, she dropped to her side on the mattress and pulled away the blindfold. Warm tears sliding down her cheeks to mirror and contrast the cooling evidence of his enjoyment of her on her thighs. Bridget wept silently, only the soft sound of shaking breath could be heard in the otherwise noiseless room. She should feel relieved, she knew that. But she didn't. Every time she replayed what had just happened, the feeling of dread grew in her stomach.

"I...I don't want to..." She whispered quietly, curling up into a ball and letting the tears flow freely. The tears were of sadness and confusion for while he hadn't spoken a word...

...it felt as if he had just said his 'goodbye'.

 

[marauder13]

Taurus dried himself off, redressed and went to his computer. He trawled the internet for an hour, seeking any information concerning the fallout of his campaign. He needed to be certain that he was not being misled, nor that he was deluding himself over what had occurred. Yet every piece of news reinforced what he had hoped was the truth; he had won. The Mayor and the District Attorney had both resigned over the failure to successfully deal with him. Their careers were in tatters, which also, in essence, ruined their lives as well.

He turned off the computer, and grieved. The small, ice cold ball in his gut finally melted, washing away everything that lingered over the death of his wife. The people who not only failed her, but acted to hinder getting what she needed and deserved, were now languishing in a shallow mirror of what he did. Weregild had been paid, not in full but enough to satisfy the dictates of honour.

"The Scandinavians of old had the right fucking idea."

Taurus looked back in the direction of where the door would be to her room, had the walls not blocked his line of sight. She would be freed as he promised. It would take a while before she would be released. There would be no firm connection between her abduction and the terrorist campaign. She had been taken late in the campaign, yet of she was released too close afterward, then they would definitely link the two. However, if she was released weeks, even months after the campaign, then there would be some doubts over it. Plus, he would give them one little extra that would have them arguing about it for months, if not years after the event.

~||~​

For two days, he fed her, led her to the bathroom for her regular shower and to see to her needs, but said nothing, and did nothing to her in that time. He left his secluded base once during that time, getting a feel for the city now the terror had stopped. The media was proclaiming that another of his random attacks was going to hit the city at any moment, to take advantage of the change in political leadership. It was not going to happen, because there was no need. His goal was complete, so there was no need for anyone else to suffer at his hand.

But it was during his walk that he stumbled over something that he had not found in his previous investigations. He found a sign calling for information concerning the kidnapping of Bridget Sumner, along with a clear photo of the blonde he held captive. The photo they chose was a good one, showing her smiling face casually looking at the camera with what looked like furnishings in the background. But it was not from her home. Yet it showed a woman who was missing something. He could see it in her eyes, the lack of light within, but carefully hidden behind a facade that could easily fool those who hadn't taken the time to look.

He lingered for a little longer, then continued his walk. His interest in the city was gone, and Bridget Sumner became the focus of his attentions.

~||~​

Taurus entered her room with a couple of coiled lengths of rope, which he dropped to the floor once the door was closed.

"On your back, woman."

It sounded wrong to refer to her without using the name he knew belonged to her. But if he mentioned her name, he would tell her that he knew something of her, or was willing to use it. It would spark her curiosity in ways that he could ill afford. If he was going to live up to his word, it would be easier to keep talking to her in the way he had. It would be easier to release the nameless blonde that to let Bridget Sumner reenter the world.

 

[Britwitch]

Bridget was a mess. Every time she heard him beyond the door, or believed she did, she felt a thrill of excitement that rapidly melted into cold dread. Somehow certain that the next time he walked through the door, it would be to end things. She didn't even care if he meant to keep his word and release her or just...kill her. Her old life, her former existence, held no thrill for her any more. She didn't miss it or anything about it. To let her go seemed unimaginable. How did she move on from something like this? She found her every waking moment was consumed with thoughts of him, of the man who held her captive. Of his touch, of his need. Sitting on her mattress she squirmed as she let her mind run over their times together, over his harsh hands and strong hold. How could she go on without him?

But then when he did open the door in the next days, it was to neither release her nor hurt her. He took her to the bathroom, without a single word, and brought her her food. That was all. He barely touched her, save guiding her movements. Bridget found herself almost holding her breath during the blindfolded walk to the bathroom, straining to catch a word from him. Trying to think of something, anything, to say that might make him respond. But she ended up back in her room, alone, each time.

Left with nothing but her worried thoughts and unanswered questions to keep her company. If she was honest the idea of being released frightened her more than staying with him did. She knew it was wrong and she was probably experiencing at least one element of traumatic bonding. She should be disgusted and horrified by the acts he had forced her to take part in but thinking of them only made her body reawaken and served to remind her how much she'd enjoyed and willingly responded to them. He had hurt her but she had thanked him for it.

She knew if he were to let her go, she could be lost in memories of this time in captivity for a long time to come. Perhaps she'd find another lover someday who seemed to understand just what her body and mind apparently needed and craved. Perhaps she'd just spend the rest of her life fantasising about her kidnapper. Sniffling, she drew the back of her hand across her face, wiping away the tears that had started to build in her eyes.

A day later her wish was granted, at least in part.
She heard the clunk of the lock and instinctively slid the blindfold into place. He entered and she heard something drop onto the floor. Her stomach jolted. Anticipation, fear, want, confusion, all making her tremble as the mechanical voice suddenly crackled to life.

"On your back, woman."

It was louder than she remembered it, making her jump. But she obeyed the brusque command instantly. Sliding down to lie on her back, hands by her sides and legs slightly apart. Still and silent, awaiting his next words. Inside her chest her heart was racing, thudding deafening in her ears, she could almost feel it throughout her body. Desperate to feel his touch, even if it was to be the last thing she'd feel. She didn't understand why she needed him so, she was too frightened to try and explain it to herself. All she cared about in that moment was knowing he was there, with her, once again.

 

[marauder13]

It was after he had spoken that he saw that she had already put her blindfold on. For a brief moment, he wondered why she had put it on, but then cast the thoughts aside as he focused on his immediate need. he had claimed a nameless blonde woman who served his need for release. But at that moment, he desired the fuck Bridget Sumner, to bring her to the heights of her ecstasy all at his mercy.

One length of rope was in his hand and dropped to her left side. He grabbed her ankle and wrist, bringing them together out to the side. He quickly bound the two joints, again with enough give to allow blood flow, yet no allow her to slip the binding. But he still had a long piece of unused rope that he then used to bind elbow and knee. Soon, both limbs were secured, off at an angle to her body and the floor, but still side enough to allow easy access to the places he desired.

Her right limbs followed soon after, bound in the exact same manner, leaving Bridget secure and wide open. He stood up and slowly removed his clothing, letting her hear every little action he took. Once he was completely naked, he knelt down close to her sex. He was amazed at how ready she was for him, and he had done nothing to arouse her at all. Yet, in the first few days, she fought him whenever he tried to get her to orgasm.

His fingers ran the length of her wet slit, trailing top to bottom, bottom to top, back and forth in a seemingly thought manner, until he rammed two fingers into her depths. His other hand dropped onto her belly, just above her mons as he hammered the twin digits past the bright red bloated lips, listening to the sloppy sounds that filled the room along with the sounds escaping her lips.

Again, to his surprise was Bridget's ultimate response to his manual efforts. he felt her muscles clamp down around his digits, just as they had around his cock when he fucked her to her natural high, followed by the warm gush, sounds and movements of the blonde in carnal ecstasy. He slowed his hammering and reduced the power of the thrusts until he left his fingers buried as deep as they would go. Then, he slowly pulled the sopping fingers out of her, feeling the cool air bite at his exposed fingers.

The index finger was dragged across her lips, smearing them with the evidence of her excitement at his use of her, then he pushed it past her lips into her mouth and against her tongue. He smiled, but what he wanted more was to talk to her; to tell her how gorgeous she looked tied up for him to enjoy just as he wanted, how good it was that she finally accepted her place in the tiny world they existed in, how much he wanted to keep her so he could continue to enjoy her as he had been. But he could not allow her to identify him in any way, because if she could, he would have to kill her. So he gave her his opinions in the way he smiled at her.

The index finger was withdrawn from her mouth, and the still saturated middle finger found its way to her little dark rose, pushing past the tight ring, and gliding easily into the other dark and welcoming depths due to her arousal. Using just the single digit, he fucked her ass while his other had toyed lazily with her clit and folds. He thought it would be nice if she came from that combined play, but he didn't really care that much, as she was going to be reaching her peak many times before he was finished with her.

 

[Britwitch]

Bridget was trembling as she waited. She could hear the sounds of him moving around the room, moving closer. Then his hand touched her leg and she only just managed to hold back the whine that rose up in her throat. Her heart was racing as he bound her wrists to her ankles and her elbows to her knees. She could imagine how she looked. Her legs splayed open, vulnerable, an invitation to be used. She knew she was wet, doubtless he could see it in the position he had put her into. Would he be pleased? She felt a twinge of hope that he would and then a rush of humiliation that she could ever think his approval of her would be something she would desire so much.

Once the ropes were secured she sensed him move away. The rustling of fabric and the muted growl of zippers coming to her ears. He was taking off his clothes, she was sure of it. Her pulse sped up a little more. If he was getting naked then perhaps, just perhaps, he was going to use her.
She got her answer in short order. His fingers began to stroke her sex and she made no attempt to hide her response. She whined, the sound tight and desperate. Needy. Her hips attempting to move, to increase the pressure of his digits against her lips but the bindings to her arms and legs meant all she did was squirm against his hand. Then she howled as two large fingers suddenly thrust deep inside her and began to pummel her depths. His other hand pushed down on her bottom of her stomach to hold her down, increasing the pressure inside. The sounds of her sodden, apparently overexcited sex began to fill the air. The scent of her arousal and the sounds her other lips were making. A steady stream of expletives and wanton sounds. A long, loud, keening noise began as her body started to shake, the sound vibrating in time with his harsh pushes into her pussy.

She came, hard, all over his hand. She felt a tightening and a release deep inside and then a rush. Soaking his hand as he pushed her higher than ever. Maybe it was the relief at him returning to her, maybe it was the intensity of his hand, maybe it was that he hadn't even uttered a word and yet her body obeyed him obediently. As she started to come down his fingers slowed and eventually stopped. They were gone from inside her and she mourned the loss of them for a split second before she felt a finger at her mouth, stroking and smearing and then pushing to slip inside. Her lips parted and drew the finger greedily into her mouth. Sucking and licking it enthusiastically, the sweet flavour of herself spreading across her tongue. She stroked his finger, massaged it. Just as she would to a larger, but just as firm, part of him.

Bridget groaned as the finger was taken from her mouth and eased into the tightest of her entrances. Muscles gripping the slippery finger obscenely as he started to stroke it in and out of her ass. The other hand began to tease her pussy anew. Circling and stroking her still throbbing clit. She strained at the ropes then. Whimpering loudly as her body shivered, fresh waves of pleasure moving through her body, making her already hard nipples throb almost painfully.

"Oh...oh fuck..." She murmured throatily, her body undulating as much as it could as she found familiar tensions building deep inside her. The last orgasm had almost made her feel faint, she wasn't entirely sure how another would feel, if it would just be followed by another or if after that he would let her rest. Recover.

She knew he likely wouldn't. Just as she knew she wouldn't want him to.

 

[marauder13]

Taurus continued his dual assault on her body, one finger penetrating and violating her ass, while other fingers worked her pussy and clit with fervour. He was getting her high, he could tell, but she seemed to not be getting what she needed to push her over the edge again.

He pulled his hand out of her body to deliver two firm slaps to her pussy. The wet sound of the impact pleased him enough to deliver two more harder blows. He grabbed the balaclava and put it on.

"Slut, you're supposed to be a good little girl and cum for me. Since you can't, I shall give you some incentive."

He slapped her pussy again, the went to the soles of her feet and slapped them hard several times each. He focused on the soft arch, knowing that would hurt the most with the least amount of effort required. She needed to remember her place, her role, just as much as he did. She was there to please him, and while she was there, that was exactly what he would do.

Even if he did feel attracted to the recently nameless blonde.

"We are going to try this again, slut, but not only once but twice this time. That's what you want, isn't it? To drown in your own pussy juices from all the orgasms you've had?"

Again, the middle finger found her back passage, working it vigourously as his other hard went back to fucking her his fingers, the thumb crashing into her clit.

"I bet you were prim and proper, or that's what you showed everyone else, right? Ever take anyone home and let them have their way with you? I guess not. You were too afraid to show them what a wanton slut you are. But you have no choice here, do you? You have to face the truth about yourself.

"To think you cried out not wanting any of this to happen, yet I walk into the room and you're soaked, and needy. If you even find a man who you'll give this body to, he will be thankful for what I have shown you, because he will have a great time using it. Even if he loves you, you will need him to use you to make you feel good, desired and maybe even owned.

"Cum, slut! No cock for you until you cum."

 

[Britwitch]

In an instant his hand was gone from inside but before she could mourn it's loss, it struck her pussy hard twice. She tensed, the pain burning through the sensitive flesh. Her body trying in vain to curl up on itself, to move away, but to no avail. The rope around her arms and legs kept her exactly where she was and unable to stop the even sharper slaps that followed. She howled loudly, the lips of her sex stinging violently as her voice echoed slightly.

"Slut, you're supposed to be a good little girl and cum for me. Since you can't, I shall give you some incentive."

"Please! No, I can, I will-!" Bridget's attempts at placating him were short lived, her desperate pleas morphing into cries as his hand struck her sex one last time before moving onto her feet. She tried to pull her foot from his grasp but he held tight, each strike to the sole making her whimper louder than before. A different fear racing through her veins as her felt her body reacting to this new torment. Her sex, still soaking and still throbbing from his touch, pulsed after each slap. She could feel it, feel the heat increasing.

"We are going to try this again, slut, but not only once but twice this time. That's what you want, isn't it? To drown in your own pussy juices from all the orgasms you've had?"

"I-" she didn't manage more than that. His hands thrusting back into her body, fingers toying in her sex and violating her ass. She was shaking in seconds as it seemed an orgasm was ready to sweep over her already.

"I bet you were prim and proper, or that's what you showed everyone else, right? Ever take anyone home and let them have their way with you? I guess not. You were too afraid to show them what a wanton slut you are. But you have no choice here, do you? You have to face the truth about yourself."

She shook her head. He might have thought she was trying to deny his accusations but she was not. She was agreeing. She had never taken anyone home who had made her feel even as remotely pleasured as he did. It made no sense, she made no attempt to understand it any more. The man who could have killed her, a dozen times, seemed to have more control, more understanding, of her body than all of her previous lovers put together.

"To think you cried out not wanting any of this to happen, yet I walk into the room and you're soaked, and needy. If you even find a man who you'll give this body to, he will be thankful for what I have shown you, because he will have a great time using it. Even if he loves you, you will need him to use you to make you feel good, desired and maybe even owned."

She cried then. Not because she was being used but because he spoke of finding someone else. It was true. He was going to let her go.

"Cum, slut! No cock for you until you cum."

And she did. Hard. Spasming around his fingers, shuddering on the mattress, her moans morphed into one unending sound. Undulating as wave after wave took over her body. Tears rolling down her face as she realised he may well be about to free her and she couldn't think of anything worse in the world

As her second, more powerful, orgasm slammed into the end of her first, the words left her lips before she could even think to have stopped them.

"Fuck. Please. Please, don't let me go!"

As she eventually came down she was shaking, unsure if she'd yelled them in her mind or for real. Had he heard? And if he had, what on earth would he think?

 

[marauder13]

"Fuck. Please. Please, don't let me go!"

Taurus had observed Bridget undergoing two powerful orgasms, which brought him a power masculine pride that he cause his woman such pleasure. He was coming to terms with 'his woman', which she really wasn't (was she?) when she delivered a line that he never expected to hear.

Taurus was stunned. After all he did to her she wanted to remain with him? And he was seriously contemplating it. He felt the tug again, the one that pulled him to her the same way he felt a tug toward his wife. Bridget was not a replacement. No one would ever replace... but she would fill the gap left, make him feel more like a real person again. His war was over, and it was time to return to 'civilian' life and pick up the pieces and move on. Could he do it with her? Could he inflict the terrible price on her to do that?

"Why would I keep you? Hmm?" He dropped himself over her body, his arms going between her bound limbs and his cock easily found her sopping sex and slid part the way in before he realised. "You're nothing but a release for me, somewhere to dump my cum when I need it. I can find that anywhere."

He slammed himself in, fully sheathed in her well oiled sheath. He gave her a couple of powerful thrusts that rocked her body hard, and pinned her to the mattress at the same time.

"You would have me go back on my word too? Don't you want to live, woman? And what of your family? Would you hurt them by vanishing forever, them not knowing what happened to you? Are you that selfish that you would hurt them so badly?"

Taurus rolled the balaclava up off his face, the got himself anchored properly and started to fuck her for his own pleasure. He used her pussy as the means to get his own high, not caring whether she came, or how many times she came. She was there because he had needs and she was the one to see to them. He was not attracted to her, no matter how sexy she looked, or how much she desired to stay with him after all she had suffered at his hands.

'No. I can't do that to her family.'

His hips shift slightly in the way he took her, less about his own pleasure and more about hers. His strokes started hitting places he instinctively knew aroused her more, his deeper mind wanting to hear her surrender to him again, regardless of what his conscious mind was saying. He had found her, captured her, took her and claimed her as the primal male in him required. He was without a woman, and he now had one that was pleased to be his. He would reward her for her surrender and make her experience the pleasure that a man gave his woman.

His body started to respond, to ready itself to cement the claim over her once more, to try, in vain, to claim her womb as his own by planting his child within her. With little warning, he flooded her core, both rejoicing at the successful claiming, and anguishing over what he was doing to Bridget. Both thoughts were soon lost in the waves of bliss that his peak brought him.

He was quiet as he calmed, his resolve wavered concerning his plans for her, but the loss he felt that started his war was something he would not inflict on her family by making her disappear. In those moments, he committed himself with the same determination that he would release her, the fade from the world, and her life.

He was a man of his word, and he kept his promises.

Every single one.

 

[Britwitch]

"Why would I keep you? Hmm?"

Bridget groaned as his body fell onto hers, slipping smoothly inside her needy body.

"You're nothing but a release for me, somewhere to dump my cum when I need it. I can find that anywhere."

She couldn't help but cry out as he thrust roughly into her vulnerable body. His words stinging but her sex clutching at him greedily in spite of them.

"You would have me go back on my word too? Don't you want to live, woman? And what of your family? Would you hurt them by vanishing forever, them not knowing what happened to you? Are you that selfish that you would hurt them so badly?"

Bridget opened her mouth to reply but no words would come, not before his hips began to jackhammer into her again and again. Fucking her into the floor, or so it felt. The mattress crushed beneath her while his hips slammed into hers. She wanted to tell him that she didn't know what she wanted, not truly, all she knew for certain was that the idea of leaving him, of going back to her old life, made her want to cry. An endless cycle of work and sleep and work and sleep with nothing to break the monotony except pointless flirting with a chef who she was sure would be lovely in bed but not what she now knew she needed. A job she loved so much that it had prevented her from having a life beyond it. There were no real friends to miss her, or at least not friends she had missed.

She came hard and suddenly, the steady using of her already overexcited body was too much for her to resist and within moments she felt herself cumming again.

He had ruined her but perhaps not as he might have thought. He had hurt her, was hurting her, but she wanted it. Wanted him. Wanted the feelings he gave her, even if she still struggled to understand them.

Midway through another earth shattering high she felt him reach his own. The two of them lost in a world of pleasure that only they would ever know. She felt her orgasm encouraging her body to make the most of the gift he had just given her, the ripples running through her serving to draw his seed deeper and deeper inside.

Then there was silence. Heavy breathing and hushed groans. Her body trembling as after shocks trickled through her when his arm brushed her side, or his breath danced across her skin.

She was shaking beneath him, bound and spread and still full of him, she'd felt him slump forwards as his orgasm had torn through him as her own had done.

Straining against the ropes and the weight of his body over hers, she blindly lifted her head as much as she could as she followed the feel of his breath. Her lips reached his and she kissed him. Soft and tender, lips shivering from the awkwardness of the position and from the wealth of emotions crashing through her, she kissed him almost lovingly before laying back down. Fighting the urge to dissolve into tears.

"I'll miss you..."

 

[marauder13]

"I'll miss you..."

Her words slammed into him, making him physically reel. His eyes were wide as he looked down at her incredulously, hardly believing the words that sprang from her lips. It was wrong on so many levels that she would feel such an attraction to him after all he had done to her, but he was having a difficult time denying that he had those same kinds of feelings for her too. He knew he would miss her as well, but it was more from the carnal delights rather than any emotional attachment.

But then he felt angry with her, because he was going to return her to the world, and she was stubbornly refusing to obey him. His hands shook as he rolled the balaclava down over his face.

"Don't lie to me, woman. Why would you miss the man who raped you time and time again? One who abused you, and openly used you for his own pleasure?" one hand clamped down on her throat, tightening and gradually cutting off her air supply.

"I will be releasing you. That is my decision, woman. Unless you want to die instead, then you had best fucking obey me in this regard. Understand?" he gave her a little push before releasing her throat. He untied her, his hands rough and careless in their treatment of her captured limbs.

Once her limbs were free, he grabbed her around the throat again, just under her jaw, and hefted her to her feet, keeping her up on the balls of her feet.

"Remember, you were here to please me until my task was done. It is done now, so there is no further need for you to please me any more. So, when the time is right, I will release you, as I said I would. Besides, we need to make certain that there is nothing on you, or in you, that can be tested, because that would be as bad as you knowing what I looked like."

He abruptly let go of her, gathered his clothing and other items he brought in with him, and left. He closed the door behind him, locked it and went to the bathroom to shower. While the water flowed over him, Taurus thought of nothing but her desire to remain with him, and how much he longed to keep her. But she was not going to have that happen, and rob her family of her in a way that was worse than killing her.

"Well, what I will do is leave her with a little memento to remember me by, so she wont miss me so much. It is the least that I can do for her."

 

[Britwitch]

"Don't lie to me, woman. Why would you miss the man who raped you time and time again? One who abused you, and openly used you for his own pleasure?"

"I-!" Bridget's desperate attempt at explaining was swiftly cut short. Strong fingers wrapping tightly about her neck and applying just enough pressure to make talking impossible, continuing to tighten their grip until it seemed breathing might also become impossible too. Her mouth wide as it worked uselessly, her heart hammering beneath his fingers, the pulse in her neck panicky and quick.

"I will be releasing you. That is my decision, woman. Unless you want to die instead, then you had best fucking obey me in this regard. Understand?"

Then his hand was gone, rope stinging her skin as he roughly untied his knots and let her arms and legs go. The sting forgotten in her eagerness to make amends.
"Yes, I understand, I'm sorry..." Bridget's arms and legs dropped heavily onto the mattress, leaving her laying on her back with her limbs splayed about her as she began to plead earnestly. But not for long.

Smoothly she was hauled to her feet, his hand lifting her with ease until she balanced unsteadily on her toes, her hands rising instinctively to cling onto his forearm. Partly out of self preservation, she didn't want to stumble and end up choking herself or breaking her neck, partly out of that worrying need she had to touch him. She could feel the strength in his arm, the heat of his skin beneath her palms.

"Remember, you were here to please me until my task was done. It is done now, so there is no further need for you to please me any more. So, when the time is right, I will release you, as I said I would. Besides, we need to make certain that there is nothing on you, or in you, that can be tested, because that would be as bad as you knowing what I looked like."

Before she could mumble another apology, before she could start to beg for him to reconsider even though she knew every word he said was true, she was released and stumbling backwards she landed heavily on her rump on the mattress. Pulling desperately at the blindfold at the muffled sounds of him gathering his things, regaining her vision just in time to see the door shutting behind him.

She leapt to her feet and dashed to the door, pulling at it uselessly for several long moments before turning and sliding down it. Her back against the cool surface while hot tears began to stream down her face. It felt like she was falling, falling down a bottomless pit, turning and spinning in the air with no clear idea of where she was headed or if she wanted to go there in the first place. Her arms wrapped around her knees tightly, between her thighs the proof of his enjoyment of her leaking down to drip onto the floor beneath her. Bridget had been stolen from her life but the more she tried to feel relief that she might get it back the more worried she felt. Every time she tried to remember how she felt before he'd taken her, her drive and zeal for her work, the thrill at the thought of Giovanni. All of it felt like faded shadows, slipping away and vanishing at the barest hint of light.

"I don't know...I just don't know who I am any more..." she wept softly, her whimpered sobs echoing around her.

 

[marauder13]

For two weeks, Taurus wanted to laugh at the reactions to his exit from the war. For a whole week, the city was nervous, ready for the next gory attack that would let them know that the war was continuing. The longer it went, the more fear infested the city.

Then came the attack. The news lit up about the long awaited attack by Taurus, but within hours, the attacker was identified as someone else, and within a day, they were caught. As it was with every other imitator willing to cash in on his infamy. Not one of the fools came even close to matching him, and each one left enough clues behind to make it simple enough to catch them. Soon, there was speculation that Taurus had trained and unleashed the new wave of "throw away terrorists" to help cover his trail. But soon enough, it was determined that they were all glory hounds of the worst kind.

Of course, during that time, he kept Bridget prisoner, taking care of her basic needs, and refraining from using her in any way, except orally a couple of times when he could not satisfy himself any other way. But he had been preparing his parting gift for her, and it had reached a point where everything was ready for him to give it to her.

Dressed in his overalls, and balaclava, he approached her room out of the normal timing he had established in the two weeks prior. Even on those times he used her, he did so while he was seeing to some other need of hers. He didn't knock, he just opened the door, and strode over to where she was. He took a handful of her blonde hair, and keeping her bent in half, led her from her room. He took her on a twisted route, backtracking several times, turning her about rapidly at points and generally keeping her off balance until he dragged her into a room that had been empty from the time he took over it until he saw a need for it.

He kicked the door closed, which shut with an ominous sound. He took her to the middle of the room, where a pair of handcuffs dangled from a chain. He quickly secured Bridget's wrists in the handcuffs. She was able to stand easily, with some slack in her arms. He went to the corner where the restraining device was located, covered by a blanket. He rolled the heavy item closer to where Bridget was standing.

"The day of your release is getting closer, woman. But you said you would miss me. So, I decided to give you something that will make sure that you will not miss me, because I will be with you forever."

He ripped the blanket off what appeared to be some medieval inspired torture device. He pushed it closer to Bridget, and grabbed a leg and pulled it closer. Two broad cloth bands were wrapped about her thigh at either end. He pushed a button, and the device dropped to the floor with a loud noise that spoke of a great deal of weight.

"Now, I wont lie to you, woman, this is going to hurt. Quite a lot I believe." He twisted a crank, and the lower band tightened until it was just about to cut off circulation. The upper band did the same when another crank was turned.

He went to a converted drum, poured some fire starter into it, and lit the contents, which ignited quickly and with a small burst of flame. He took what looked like a poker, and stirred the fuel of the fire, then turned back to face Bridget.

"I should have prepared things a little better than I had, but it would be too long before everything is ready for you. I am not sure if you have done much reading in your spare time, but there is a popular science fiction series by a man named John Norman, set on a world called Gor. There is a lot of slavery involved, and the slaves are branded with a letter that denoted their status. The main place they receive their brands is on the left thigh.

"You will be one of the few people in the world to sport one of these. It will tell the world the truth about how you have been since we came together. About how you surrendered yourself to me so fully, and willingly submitted to my every desire. Also, it will tell those in the know that you were mastered, and that in your heart, you seek another to replace me and use you as he sees fit."

He went back to the fire, and pulled out the poker, which he showed Bridget was actually a brand, a Kajira marking from the Gorean series, glowing red from the heat. He put it back into the coals.

"When the metal is white hot, then I shall mark you properly, and then you will finally be able to be released. A promise made is a promise kept."

 

[Britwitch]

Nothing seemed to matter any more. Every time he came into the room she was torn between the fear that he had come to release her and the hope that he might be planning to use her, to be with her, even for a short while.

She was riding a confusingly terrifying roller coaster, she knew she should want to get off but even at it's most frightening heights, she didn't quite want it to end.

Bridget barely knew who she was any more, in her more lucid moments she considered what she might down if and when she was free. She wasn't sure she could go back to work, her enthusiasm for it had waned. Maybe it would be different when she went back but at the moment that seemed unlikely. She made tentative plans to maybe take sick leave and see a therapist. What she'd been through, the way she'd been made to feel, she needed professional help she was sure to move past it.

In the days (weeks?) that went by the only time he spent any length of time with her was to use her mouth. The act brief and rough and purely to satisfy his need but both times, after he'd gone, she'd been wet between her thighs and wanting more.

Without warning he appeared in the room, there was no sign that he was coming. As soon as the door banged open she scrambled across the mattress to try and grab her blindfold but apparently he had other plans. A large hand in her hair yanked her up and forced her to follow him. Her head down and back bent, she stumbled several times on the way. Her hair and his grip meant she had no real chance to see where they might be going, the route she could tell looped and double backed so she couldn't have found her way back to her room even if he'd told her to do so.

Suddenly they were in a relatively bare room and within moments her hands had been secured in handcuffs above her head. She tested them as he moved away, not doubting that they would hold fast and being unsurprised when all that happened was the chain leading up to the ceiling rattled in answer to her tugging.

She looked back to see him moving something huge, and apparently heavy, closer to her. Her eyes widening in confusion.

"The day of your release is getting closer, woman. But you said you would miss me. So, I decided to give you something that will make sure that you will not miss me, because I will be with you forever."

The object beneath looked worrying beyond belief and even without knowing it's true purpose Bridget felt herself trying to move away from it. A pointless waste of energy given the cuffs but she couldn't fight the instinct she had to try and get as far away from it as possible.

He grabbed her leg, putting pay to her struggles and strapped it tightly into the frame.

"Now, I wont lie to you, woman, this is going to hurt. Quite a lot I believe."

She yelped as the fabric tightened painfully around both ends of her thigh, squeezing the flesh and ensuring she couldn't move the limb even slightly. Tears stung at her eyes as the pain lingered even as he moved away, her expression growing ever more confused as she watched him start a fire. Whatever was going to happen, she knew it wasn't going to be good. She watched him curiously, taking and making the most of the chance to look at him without the blindfold stealing her sight.

"I should have prepared things a little better than I had, but it would be too long before everything is ready for you. I am not sure if you have done much reading in your spare time, but there is a popular science fiction series by a man named John Norman, set on a world called Gor. There is a lot of slavery involved, and the slaves are branded with a letter that denoted their status. The main place they receive their brands is on the left thigh.

"You will be one of the few people in the world to sport one of these. It will tell the world the truth about how you have been since we came together. About how you surrendered yourself to me so fully, and willingly submitted to my every desire. Also, it will tell those in the know that you were mastered, and that in your heart, you seek another to replace me and use you as he sees fit."

The horrible reality began to dawn on her as he withdrew what she'd believed to be a poker from within the raging fire. The end glowing ominously already. She squinted as she tried to look at the shape, at a quick glance it looked almost like a backwards letter 'k', not that it would make any difference what shape it was. It wouldn't hurt any less when it touched her.

"When the metal is white hot, then I shall mark you properly, and then you will finally be able to be released. A promise made is a promise kept."

"Please, you don't...you don't have to do this..." she began to plead, her arms pulling uselessly at the cuffs and doing nothing more than making her wrists sore. Her leg refused to move at all, the straps holding her in place with an unrelenting grip.

"Please, please don't!" her voice getting higher and more desperate in tone. The only thing was, she wasn't certain what she was begging for. Not to be branded. Or not to be released.

 

[marauder13]

Taurus found himself completely neutral in his feelings about what he was going to do to Bridget - no, the Blonde. He was going to effectively mutilate her for no other reason than to add another indelible mark to her body. Another reminder of her time with him, and all the other things he had done to her. Her struggles meant nothing to him, he actually didn't feel anything concerning them, or what she would suffer. Taurus took his time to reflect on those feelings, or lack thereof, considering how close he felt to her prior to the capitulation of his enemies.

Taurus made a promise to her that if she behaved, he would release her. He was an honourable man. He pledged himself many times in the past, and he remained true to those pledges, regardless of how much he personally suffered and lost. He stayed with his wife after her assault, while she slowly died from what was done to her, while no one helped catch those that did it, and when they were caught, did nothing to punish them, and all the while, ignored his pleas for help for the woman he loved the most. 'For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health...' He stayed with her to the bitter end, and with her mortal remains still holding the heat of life, he vowed to her that those most responsible would pay.

He exhausted every avenue open to him, but eventually he was only left with the path he had taken, so he took it. Which in turn, led him to where he stood; beside a barrel of burning coals, heating up a brand that was meant for someone else about to be applied to a woman who he had planned on killing.

Taurus lifted the brand enough to get a clear view of the tip, and noticed that the metal was white hot, then placed it back into the coals before turning to face his captive.

"The metal is ready. White hot ensures a cleaner burn, limiting the pain as it kills the nerves quicker than a cooler, red hot metal would. It also means that the metal doesn't need to be pressed against you for as long to leave the proper mark. You may scream as loud as you like when you are branded."

Taurus pulled the brand from the fire, and walked over to Bridget quickly, wasting not time in getting the brand into position. His attention was fully focused on her leg, not caring about the rest of her as he wanted to do the job properly. There was a moment's hesitation before he pressed the metal against her leg.

It surprised him how good the smell was, how close it was to some scents of cooking meat on a BBQ. The sound of the skin and flesh burning was more disturbing. But all of it was over within a few seconds. He pulled the brand away, and the fresh burn mark in her thigh steamed with a clear Gorean Kajira mark.

'Maybe Norman was right about how good such a mark looked on a woman's thigh...'

The brand was returned to the flames, then Taurus loosened the bands on her thigh to keep it in place, but not constrict her as greatly. He walked over to a bench, picked up a small pump spray bottle, and returned to send the content of the bottle over her wound in a fine mist.

"I know that this will hurt, but the pain will reside quickly. The liquid is designed to help treat burns. There is an anaesthetic, as well as a solution to draw the heat out of the damaged area." He continued to supply more of the mist to the area. "Your mark is nice and clean. Within a few days, it will be healed enough for you to have a visual reminder of me, to help you remember your time here.

"When you leave, there will be nothing on you that will link you to me, that will make it possible to identify me, which means you will be able to leave. Your family will have you back, and will be relived to know that you live, even after the horrors you have suffered at my hands.

"You will remain in here for a few more hours, so your leg has time to get some critical healing in. I will check on you to ensure that you are not in any danger, or getting ill from your branding."

Without any further word, Taurus left the room, with Bridget still locked into the restraint, and her hands still in the handcuffs. Within the week, her time with him would be over, and then the last stages of his official war would be done, and he would fade from the world.

 

[Britwitch]

Her pleaded words fell on apparently deaf ears. His attention entirely focused on the dancing flames and the metal heating up within them. Over and over she tried to convince him that this wasn't necessary, he didn't need to do it. Her eyes bright with tears of panic and fear, her heart racing in her chest. After a worryingly short space of time, he withdrew the brand one last time and she didn't need him to confirm what her eyes had already seen. The black metal that had begun to glow red not so long before was now an almost painfully bright white. He pushed it back into the fire but the shape of it still danced before her eyes.

"The metal is ready. White hot ensures a cleaner burn, limiting the pain as it kills the nerves quicker than a cooler, red hot metal would. It also means that the metal doesn't need to be pressed against you for as long to leave the proper mark. You may scream as loud as you like when you are branded."

"No, no please! Please, don't!" Her voice rose in volume and tension as he moved closer, the brand pointing towards her. By the end she was already screaming. "Please don't do this to me, you don't need to do this! Please!"

There was the briefest pause before the metal made contact with her leg. She could feel the heat stinging her flesh but that pause gave her a split second of hope that perhaps he had reconsidered. Reconsidered marking her, reconsidered freeing her. She almost sagging with relief but then she saw the brand push forwards and it took a second for the incredible pain to fully register in her brain.

She howled as her skin sizzled and puckered beneath the brand, every muscle in her body tensing as her body's natural reaction to try and pull away was prevented by the contraption and straps holding her in place. Tears coursed down her face and her throat ached from screaming at the top of her lungs when at least he pulled the metal away. Bridget knew it couldn't have been long, not really but the pain that pulsed and continued to burn in her thigh made her seriously think otherwise.

She sagged against the cuffs above her head, her body shaking as shock and pain mingled and overwhelmed her. A constant, quiet whimpering cry fluttering out of trembling lips. She felt the pressure of the bands slacken but not disappear but she couldn't have moved her leg even if she'd wanted to.

"I know that this will hurt, but the pain will reside quickly. The liquid is designed to help treat burns. There is an anaesthetic, as well as a solution to draw the heat out of the damaged area. Your mark is nice and clean. Within a few days, it will be healed enough for you to have a visual reminder of me, to help you remember your time here."

She hissed softly as the spray landed on the burn, making her grit her teeth and cause fresh tears to build in her eyes. But she didn't comment, she couldn't. Not right then. What on earth was she going to say?

"When you leave, there will be nothing on you that will link you to me, that will make it possible to identify me, which means you will be able to leave. Your family will have you back, and will be relived to know that you live, even after the horrors you have suffered at my hands. You will remain in here for a few more hours, so your leg has time to get some critical healing in. I will check on you to ensure that you are not in any danger, or getting ill from your branding."

And then, he was gone. The fire continuing to crackle and burn, sending light dancing around the walls and across her body. Sometime after he'd gone she felt herself growing dizzy, the stress of the branding combined with everything else she was desperately trying to process, and with little effort to fight it on her part Bridget fainted. Body suspended from the ceiling by the cuffs around her wrists and held up by the contraption around her leg.

Her eyes fluttered open later, she didn't know how long she'd been out. The fire was no longer dancing but going by the glow reflecting upon the inside of the drum the embers were still vaguely pink in places so she was certain it couldn't have been more than an hour at most. Assuming he hadn't returned to build up the fire in that time, but then why would he. It wasn't there to comfort her and warm her, it had been there for one purpose and that purpose had been served.

Glancing down towards her leg she whined to see the burn, the brand, so obvious and clear upon her thigh. It didn't really hurt, not as much as she expected something of that size and 'seriousness' would at any rate. He must have known what he was talking about when he'd spoken about nerves being killed and such. It looked like it was starting to scab ever so slightly which she took to be a good sign.

Wetting her lips Bridget looked up and around the room, arms moving slightly against the cuffs to try and release a little of the pressure around her wrists, wondering how much longer she would have to wait before he returned.

 

[marauder13]

Taurus eased himself into the chair at the plain table on which sat an equally plain PC. A finger bashed the space bar, the screen came to life a second later, a brilliant image of Yellowstone National Park in the middle of a forest fire, a couple of elk standing in water while every tree was engulfed in flames. he stared at the image for a few moments, wondering what happened to the elk captured in the image, as well as what the photographer went through to get it.

He sighed deeply, and opened a browser, and a minute later had several windows opened, all with news stories concerning Bridget Sumner. How she disappeared one night, not seen since. No ransom, nothing to lead the police in finding out what happened to her. Distraught family calling her her return, offering a reward or ransom.

Taurus saw the time in the bottom corner of the screen. He grunted, then stood up and walked back to where he lad left the Blonde. She had passed out, hanging loosely in the rigging. The air was still heavy with the smell of burnt flesh, still reminding him of pork.

"The other other white meat." He shook his head at the reference, grabbed the spray bottle and gave her another dose of the liquid. The wound was clean, the edges sharp. The skin about looked angry at what had been done, but there was no signs of anything 'wrong' with her leg apart from what he had done to her.

Taurus looked at her. Completely naked, restrained, in low light that showed off her figure in an artistic manner. He felt certain that if he had taken photos of her, they would have been well received in any gallery that hosted photos. But there would not be any such photos, not by him no matter how wonderful they would appear. Still, just seeing her as she was, it was difficult for him to remove the thoughts of taking advantage of her as she was. He could re-position her legs to open her up for him to make good use of her, even shift her about enough to access any part of her he desired. It would not be comfortable for her, but that would not be a concern of his if he went down that path.

Interspersed with his reading of the new articles, and other investigations, Taurus paused to go and apply more of the solution to her wound, and make sure that she had not injured herself in any other way. The more he read of Bridget, the more he felt himself drawn to her. She was alone. She worked, she slept and occasionally made it to important social gatherings. If he was reading things properly, the chef of where she worked wanted to be more than just a coworker.

Taurus brows furrowed, and he felt his heart rate go up. The man was not classically handsome, but then he had little idea of what a handsome man looked like. Taurus' interest was with the fairer sex, and he felt he was far more capable of identifying a beautiful woman than he was of identifying a handsome man.

"Bridget is definitely beautiful." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "The Blonde is beautiful, and incredibly sexy too."

Taurus looked back at the man, Italian if he had to guess. "Even if you and her to get together, you will be the second fiddle forever. No one will leave a mark on her soul like I have."

Once more, Taurus got up to go and check on his captive, not thinking of her name, or her circumstances. He even did his best not to remember how good it felt using her for his own sexual needs, how much he had looked forward to to draining his tensions by way of her body. Out of nowhere, the comparison between how his wife soothed his soul and how Bridget did almost sent him sprawling to the floor as if he had been gut punched. Taurus gripped the wall with one hand, doubled over fighting hard to breathe as his body convulsed.

Images of the two standing in front of some little place far from civilization, in some vision of twisted domestic bliss, living happily together in the way he had with his wife... they burned within him. He wanted her badly, more than anyone else... even his wife. But he gave his word. On top of that, he could not leave her family not knowing what happened to her. It would be better knowing that she was dead, rather than just missing. She had behaved, and as her reward, she would be released.

He eased himself upright, slumped against the wall as tears ran down his face and he silently sobbed through an ugly face. Several long minutes, Taurus fought the need to break his word, to keep her for himself, an ill-gained treasure for him to cherish above all others. There was not a situation where he would win something greater than he had already won. He would not steal her away, neither would he simply kill her.

He wiped away the fluid evidence of his emotional outburst and steadied his breathing. Centred, calm, Taurus resumed his trek to the room where he physically marked the Blonde. He reached for the door. The fainted jingle from the other side stopped him cold. He almost walked in with his face uncovered, which would be a death sentence for her. Taurus waited for his heart to slow, and his breathing to become regular once more, then donned the balaclava.

When the door opened, Taurus was once more in control of himself. He was walking tall, his back straight, his eyes fixed forward as he brisk step brought him closer to the captive. He kept calling her his captive, or the Blonde, rather than use her name, Bridget.

'Stop using her fucking name, you idiot.'

He came to a stop beside the branded thigh, dropping down into a squat to examine it closer. The solution he used was working fine, the wound already showing signs of healing. She would have a clean scar when the scabbing was complete, an outer mark to show her who she belonged to. Everytime she looked or even touched the area, it would remind her of their time together. Of how he took her as he desired, and made her squeal with delight.

"Time for you to return to your room." His voice was garbled once more, saving her from being able to identify him. He removed the restrains about her legs first, allowing her to stand on her own legs as he moved the main part of the frame away from her. Before he got to her hands, he slipped the blindfold on and got it in place. He freed her hands of the cuffs that held her in place, replacing them with a length of rope that he had used whenever he led her about his hideout. He spun her several times, in both directions, then led her back to the room he kept her in, spinning her a few more times along the way.

Once back in her room, Taurus lifted the blindfold from her eyes, and turned his attention to the rope about her wrists.

"You will be released soon, woman. Safe as promised. There will be nothing on you, or in your memory, that will be able to identify me, which is best for both of us. Keep behaving well, and all of this will be a thing of the past."

 

[Britwitch]

She jumped when the door finally opened and he rejoined her. His focus first was her leg, lowering himself to inspect the wound properly, before addressing her.

"Time for you to return to your room."

He worked to free her leg which she was both relieved and worried about. The fact that the branded leg would now need to support her weight was something that made her feel slightly queasy. As it turned out, the discomfort was less than she'd expected. Some small part of her brain reasoning that it was the skin and flesh had been injured by the searing hot metal, not the muscle beneath.

He rose to his full height before her and replaced the blindfold over her eyes. The metal cuffs were unlocked and opened, her arms dropping gracelessly down by her sides thanks to the position they'd been in for goodness only knew how long. She tried to lift them and hold them out, as best as she could, while the rope was wound around the tender flesh of her wrists.

Spins were administered, although she wobbled a little more than usual thanks to the ache in her thigh and the slight light headedness she still felt from passing out earlier.

Her bare feet carried her along the route he took her, the journey broken with more disorientating spins, and then she heard the heavy door to 'her' room closing. She winced slightly as the fabric over her face was removed and the bright light filled her vision. His attention was now focused on removing the rope from her hands.

"You will be released soon, woman. Safe as promised. There will be nothing on you, or in your memory, that will be able to identify me, which is best for both of us. Keep behaving well, and all of this will be a thing of the past."

"Thank you," she replied meekly, gingerly massaging her wrists once they were free, "for keeping your word." She added.

She wanted to ask how soon that would be, just how imminent was her freedom? But she refrained from commenting. Even if she was unsure she wanted it there was a part of her that rejoiced at the idea of being free, of being released. The last few times she'd opened her mouth to express her thoughts and feelings on her situation hadn't ended well.

Wetting her lips she glanced up at the balaclava covered face, there was one way in which she could open her mouth that might not push her captor into a rage.
Hissing slightly as the burnt skin on her thigh protested her decision to do so, she slowly sank to her knees before him. Her face now level with his crotch.
Raising her eyes towards the blue ones now towering over her, she opened her mouth and stayed still.

Twice in their last conversations he'd been at pains to clarify neither she nor the authorities would be able to trace him once he let her go. He'd leave no clue on her, with her, that would make his identity even vaguely discoverable. Even so....

It was a silent request, a wordless offer.
He could use her or not whenever he wanted, she knew that already, but she wanted to offer all the same.

She hoped he would use what she was offering, she needed him to.

 

[marauder13]

Having taken her in every sense of the word, it was nearly impossible to let her go. Taurus found himself admiring her body, more than just a vessel to slake his lusts on. She was finely shaped, and held up to his assaults well, but those same curves called out to something else within him - the desire to hold her, to lie beside her as they fell asleep, to change those curves by adding new ones that would only last a few months before something more joyous joined them.

"Thank you, for keeping your word."

It was like she slapped him, reminding him that he would be forced to send her away, because of his declaration when the only thoughts he had in mind for her was using her or killing her. Yet he felt that she wanted something more from him too, but her words indicated something clearly different.

'Could she merely be like you? Wanting to stay, but bound by some other desire, or agreement?'

Everything slowed. Taurus looked on as the blonde lowered herself to her knees before him. The hiss of pain from the skin moving on her thigh stretched out forever until she was settled before him. Her eyes turned toward his, locking on as if not doing so would be cause her body to stop working. Her face was level with his crotch, the mouth slowly opening in readiness to accept was was hidden under layers of cloth.

His return gaze never wavered, staring at the unspoken request. His mind's eye saw what would happen next, his steely length diving deep into the delightful cavern, going until her face was mashed against his torso. Both hands locked in her hair as he brutally fucked her beautiful face with no thoughts of her pleasure or enjoyment, hammering away until he erupted, spraying his seed wherever it landed, not worrying about whether it was in her mouth or before her face as he howled the deep primal pleasure that she was able to release from him.

Time drew on as Taurus weighed up her offer, then, without a word spoken, he turned and left her in her room. Taurus gripped the handle of the door, and drew it closed with a loud boom as it slammed into place. He walked a few metres away from the door then ran. Both hands tore at the balaclava, throwing it away without any thought of where it would land, his feet carrying him along a path he had no idea of until he reached the doors that led him outside.

One hand shielded his watery eyes. His legs gave out, bringing him to his knees as he howled. Not primal joy, but soul tearing pain. The weight of countless lives he had ruined in his crusade to avenge the woman he loved more than any other... until then. The blonde was deeper in his heart than the woman he committed all manner of atrocities for. She had awoken a side of him that had slept even through the marriage to the one he felt was his soul mate. She drew him in as much as his departed wife, yet she showed him there was more to his attraction than he had for his wife. He wanted to show the Bridget how special she was to him, using her in ways he never thought of with his wife, yet... he still respected Bridget, still felt an attraction to her, still wanted to do all those wicked things to her because she wanted him to.

She felt the same way about him.

His victory was wrecked by the knowledge that he was not going to ruin any more lives, yet which ever way he went, he would be ruining more. It was only a matter of how many. The man was filled the mortal shell before Taurus would never hurt anyone, unless there was no other choice, and then it would be as little as possible. So it would be with his last act as Taurus. Only two more lives would be ruined - His and hers.

~||~​

One week passed after her offer. Taurus fed her, saw to her needs of hygiene and health, and spent the minimum amount of time with her. He spent the time getting everything ready for their departure. A large oil tank, that still had some residual content had been leaking during that time, near an old, exposed with that he had a rat chewing on to make it look like someone else had not exposed it. The leak had been artificially created, but once the fire was put out, it would be ruled a lack of maintenance. Nothing that remained would be able to be linked to him, to incriminate him. The only way the truth of who Taurus was would come with his confession.

It was time for her trip to the bathroom, just like any other time he had come for her. No words were spoken. He put the blindfold on her, tied her wrists, spun her around and led her out of the room. She never made it to the bathroom. On a table that he led her to sat the cloth that he had soaked with ether. He pushed it over her face, and held her as she absorbed the chemical that would render her unconscious. Tears filled the woolen knit of the balaclava as she slowly lost consciousness, and lowered her to the floor. The rag remained there, her pulse checked to make sure that she was still alive, but truly rendered unconscious.

"I am sorry, Bridget. As much as I want to keep you, I can't."

He removed the rope from her wrists, and the blindfold from her eyes. His fingers brushed some of the hair from her face, allowing him one last look at her, one he would carry in his memories once he walked from the path he had been on.

He took a deep breath, releasing it and all the softness that threatened to derail him. He lifted her carried her back to the garage. He found the coat he had placed on her when he kidnapped her, and got her dressed again. He laid her on the back seat of the car, then left his base. He drove for half an hour, using a winding path before he came to a stop close to a police station, still covered by the dark.

He took his time checking the surrounds, not seeing a soul anywhere. No lights were on in any of the buildings near by, apart from the police station, and no one was on the streets. Not pausing, even though he wanted to delay those final moments for as long as he could, Taurus lifted Bridget from the back seat, and carried her to the place where she would be found. He wanted to wait there with her until she was safely found by the police, but he couldn't as it would raise too many questions.

He pulled his cell phone out as he walked away from her. It would no longer be anything he could influence nor control.

"Nine-One-One. What is your emergency?"

"Ummm... I think I saw someone badly injured... near the 6th Precinct station. They are lying on the street."

"Can you describe how they are injured sir?"

"No, I didn't get a good look but no one would just be lying in the street like that, would they?"

"Are you still there, sir?"

"No, I have get home, otherwise I would still be there. I... have to go. Sorry."

Taurus hung up. He pulled out the sim card and snapped it. There was one last task for Taurus to perform, and then he would vanish, never to be seen again.

 

[Britwitch]

After he'd gone she remained on her knees for a long time. The pain in her thigh dwarfed by the ache she felt inside when he turned away from her and left. Tears ran down her face without any attempt on her part to stop them. Her mind was a swirling mess of confused thoughts and emotions.

She should feel elated to know the end of this nightmare was coming but she didn't. She should be relieved that her captor, torturer and rapist had no desire to use her further. She should. She didn't. Instead she felt hurt, crushed, that his desire to use her was gone. The realisation that she had been merely an outlet for his lust and nothing more hurting her far more than the branding had done. It was a pain she knew couldn't be banished with anaesthetic or time. It wouldn't heal, it would fester.

Bridget crawled across to the mattress and curled up on her side, arms wrapping around her knees and waited. Her sobs softening until the room was silent once more.

After that she barely saw him, other than to bring food or to take her to the bathroom, she was alone. She fought against her mind when it tried to alleviate her loneliness by taken her back to the times he had been with her but she knew that wouldn't help. She might feel better for a little while, as long as the daydream lasted but then the reality would return that the thrill and the pleasure she felt with him would never be hers to experience again.

She would rise wordlessly from where she sat or lay, offering hands to be bound and her sight to be smothered by the blindfold then following on the twisting turning journey to the toilet and back. Back to the empty room, back to nothing but her own thoughts. The burn healed, open wound closing as the days passed, her only real way to measure the time.

Then he came to collect her and she knew as soon as they left her room that something was different. He usually turned her several times on the trip but this time they left the room and their walk was relatively uninterrupted. She didn't hear a door open before they came to a stop.

She opened her mouth to ask if she could be untied but felt something soft and wet press over her face. A strong, sweet smell invaded her nose and she realised what was happening. Bridget struggled in his arms as she fought against breathing in, her cries for him to stop muffled by the cloth covering her mouth and nose. Her struggles quickly weakening as tears dampened the blindfold. She felt her limbs growing heavier and as the fog closed in on her mind and nudged her over the edge into oblivion the last thought she held onto was that he didn't even let her say goodbye.

~||~​

The first thing she was aware of was an overly clean smell followed swiftly by an odd sensation against her skin. As her eyes struggled to open she realised it was the feeling of clothes and then somewhere, it sounded a long way away, someone was speaking.

"Miss Sumner? Bridget? Can you...can you hear me, honey?"

Bridget groaned and stretched, squeezing her eyes tightly shut against the too bright light that was trying to invade them.

"Do you know where you are?"

"No," Bridget replied, her voice thick with sleep.

"You're at hospital. You were found near a police station a couple of days ago."

Bridget's eyes finally flickered open and the room swam into focus. The curtains hanging around her bed to shield her from prying eyes, the smiling face of the nurse by her bedside.

"I should probably warn you that there is a police officer outside, they have questions for you," the nurse explained, her tone soft and gently. "In cases like this they say the sooner they talk to you the more you might remember. It's a male officer but given what's happened to you," her words faltered for a second before she regrouped, "they can send in a female officer, if you want. And I can always stay with you too."

"But I don't remember anything," Bridget replied quietly, licking her lips and lifting her hand to eye the cannula taped to the back of it warily.

"It’s nothing to worry about. We don't know how long you'd been on the street before someone reported seeing you, I mean, you were still warm when they found you so you couldn't have been there long. But we wanted to get some fluids into you anyway, and some antibiotics for that wound on your leg." The nurse explained in response to her frown at the line going into her hand. “It’s likely the press will want to talk to you too, when you feel up to it. You’ve been in the headlines for weeks now, if it wasn’t you it was Taurus.”

There were several moments were neither of them spoke. The sound filled with muted conversations from other bays, the steady bleep of a monitor somewhere and the odd snatch of the wail of sirens whenever a door to the outside world opened.

"Do you feel up to the interview?" the nurse pushed carefully. "I can call your family as well, they've been here most of the time since you were brought in but they went home to change clothes and eat. You know how it is."

"No, no, don't call them," Bridget pushed herself up to sit. "I mean, there's no hurry. I'm not going anywhere," she joked half-heartedly. "I can talk to the police, I'm going to have to sooner or later, right?"

"If you're sure," the nurse squeezed her forearm reassuringly and moved away to the curtain, talking quietly with someone behind it before the fabric swished to the side and a police uniform came into view, a manila envelope under one arm. The officer wearing it was some years older than her, dark hair slightly peppered around his sideburns with grey, his expression friendly but serious.

“Miss Sumner,” his head bowed ever so slightly, “I’m here to ask you some questions about your abduction. I understand it can be a tough thing to do and if you’d rather talk with a female-”

“No, it’s fine,” Bridget waved his worries aside with the hand not covered with medical tape. “The questions will be the same, right?”

“If you’re sure,” the officer moved to sit beside the bed and withdrew papers from inside the envelope under his arm. “Before I forget, here are some pamphlets and stuff, lines you can call for advice and support,” he handed them across and while Bridget didn’t look at them before setting them down on the bedsheet with a muted word of thanks she saw the words ‘victim’ and ‘sexual’ on the top ones.

“The doctors say that aside from a wound to your leg and some evidence of sexual trauma that whoever took you kept pretty good care of you, you were fed and reasonably clean.”

“He did,” Bridget nodded. “I ate, I don’t know how often but regularly enough, and there was a shower in the bathroom.”

“Did he keep you in a house?” the officer uncapped a pan and the nib hovered over the paper on his lap.

“No, not a house, there were rooms but not a house.”

“Tell me anything you can remember,” he urged gently. “About the building or him. Any sounds you heard.”

“It was like a warehouse maybe,” she shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear, realising it must have been at least brushed since she’d been found going by how smooth it felt. “There were lots of pipes, on the ceilings, and the floors were concrete. Cold.”

“This is all great, anything about him? Was he alone or was there more than one person?” the officer continued to make notes, filling in lines on a form of some kind.

“Just him, I think,” Bridget frowned ever so slightly, “he was tall, taller than me, and he had blue eyes.”

“What about his hair? Or any other facial features? Any scars…tattoos?”

“He always kept his face covered, I never saw his face, not once,” Bridget replied shakily, “either than or he blindfolded me. I didn’t even hear his voice, he had some…thing…that changed his voice. He sounded like a robot or something. I honestly have no idea what he sounds like. Not really.”

There was a moment where the memory of his breathing invaded her memory, stifled grunts while he drove into her again and again, his mouth claiming hers and then the single sound she heard him say in his own voice.

‘Cum’

She coughed and shifted in the bed, hoping she didn’t blush.

“I wish there was something more I could share but there really isn’t. He wore like a boiler-suit and, er, big boots but I can’t tell you more than that. The only reason I know he was a guy at all was because of what he did-“

Her words ran out and she could tell from the officer’s expression he was as uncomfortable as she was at what she was about to say.

“So, was there anything else you wanted to ask, officer?”

~||~​

Two weeks later the fuss was finally dying down. She’d been interviewed multiple times, both by the papers and the tv stations. Her parents had finally stopped dropping by every other day with food packages and worried stares. They eventually realised she wasn’t going to be calling any of the support numbers the police had given her. Work was settling down too, she could still feel the stares from customers now and then, when they realised she was who they thought she might be.

Bridget had had a very awkward conversation with Giovanni the second night after she went back to work. She could tell his feelings were the same but he’d read the interviews, he’d heard what had happened and she knew he’d never be able to see past what she’d been through. It was kinder to tell him straight that perhaps they should just be friends. The relief that flooded his face made her feel slightly saddened but it was for the best. For them both.

The police had no leads, that she knew of. She’d been able to provide such little information that they had to just assume she’d been captured by a maniac who may or may not have also been the terrorist they called Taurus.

So she fell back into the life she’d once had. Working every night and little else besides. She smiled her way through her shifts, the familiarity of it was soothing. It was when she went home, to her apartment on her own that she struggled.

She would turn on the TV but not watch a single thing. She found her fingers subconsciously tracing the scar on her thigh through her clothes.

At night when her mind took her back to that room and she remembered his touch, his breath, the feel of him inside her then she would move her hands between her thighs but never quite take herself beyond the point of release.

Even now, when she had no idea who he was or if he was even alive, she couldn’t forget him. She could never.

'Never forget, woman, I am the only one who decides when you cum. Never forget.’

 

[marauder13]

In the same two weeks it took for post release events to calm down for Bridget, Taurus also calmed down the last vestiges of his war against the City. His base was cleaned up of all evidence that could possibly be linked to him. The computer was disassembled, the hard drive destroyed with the aid of a sledgehammer and the remains removed from the scene.

Using the teeth still attached to a rat's jaw and skull, one he bought as a pet before he killed it, he stripped away the plastic covering of two wires, which were close enough to spark if any current ran through either of them. At the other end of the warehouse, a gas pipe finally broke where it had been corroding from weather, and some additional help from Taurus. Little of the corrosive agent he used would survive the flames that his plan would produce, and everything would look like an accident due to faulty maintenance. The owning company had a history of doing as little as possible to fix anything that needed repairing, so it would be easy to point the finger at them.

Thirteen days after Bridget's release, the warehouse burst into flame from a gas leak. The company would eventually be fined, and their insurance premiums would almost double. Taurus smiled when he heard that news. It was done, nothing was left to link back to him, except for one woman, who going from police and news reports, had no idea who he was, what he looked like or anything else that could lead them to him.

~||~​

Ryan Colt had not gone by that name in a long time, since he had been someone else in order to make those responsible pay for the treatment of the woman he had loved. With the destruction of his base, the individual known as Taurus was gone, never to see the light of day again. It was an enormous burden from his shoulders, but it left a massive whole in his life. He had no plans for what he would do after the war was over, which was a surprise for him, since he was at heart one who needed plans.

He also found himself thinking of the blonde woman, Bridget Sumner. She would have died, and he never would have thought of her any more than the numerous others that he had killed, no Taurus had killed. Yet, one look at her woke up feelings in him that he had suppressed for far too long. Further, she showed him a side to himself that he was excited about and scared about in equal measure. He did things to her that he never would have done to his wife, yet, Bridget liked it, and was excited by it. He also enjoyed doing them to her because of how they both got excited by it. He wanted to keep her, but he made a promise, and he always kept his promises.

Yet, it was why he found himself outside the apartment block where he had found her, stole her and did terrible, wicked and delicious things to her. He wanted to taste that again, somehow, and not undo everything he had done in order to make sure that he would never be caught.

The night was upon the city, and there was enough cloud cover to cut down the moonlight, leaving large pools of sable to swallow his form as he casually walked down the street, as he had many times before. The gate was easily bypassed, and the rear door was still devoid of a camera, so no one noticed his entrance just like it happened the first time.

His heart was racing by the time he reached her floor. He hoped that she would not be in, that she was out trying to live a life she never really had. He wanted her not to be there so he could finally walk free of his bond to her. At the same time, he hoped for her to be there, naked on her bed, waiting impatiently for him to return, blind her, bind her and take her as they both desired.

He paused outside her door, key slowly approaching the lock, his very existence teetering on the brink, praying for a result, but not knowing which one he wanted, or needed, the most.

 

[Britwitch]

Another day was over and after a shower to wash away a little of the aches that followed a day and night on her feet, Bridget flopped onto the couch and flicked through a newspaper. Yawning as she ran a hand through her still drying hair. A glance at the clock told her it was too early to think of falling into bed and she should try to get back into some kind of routine when she was away from the restaurant. She knew she couldn’t spend the rest of her life daydreaming about what had happened, sleeping fitfully at best.

“Coffee,” she announced to no one as she rose and headed into the kitchen. Bridget filled the coffee machine and switched it on. The spluttering bubbling drips signalling that soon she’d be able to enjoy a nice hot cup. Maybe even find a movie to curl up and watch, for the moment contenting herself to standing and watching as the dark rich liquid dripped down to fill the jug beneath.

When the machine was done, she pulled a mug from a cupboard and sloshed a large helping of coffee into it. Grabbing an opened carton of milk from the fridge she pushed it open. She gagged as the scent of sour milk reached her nose and she quickly dumped the lumpy contents of the carton in the sink. The hot water tap on full blast to wash it away. Pulling the fridge open she was unsurprised by it’s lack of contents. She ate at work and besides the odd thing for a day off or leftovers she brought home, the kitchen appliance was rarely ever stocked.
She looked at the full pot of coffee, it’s scent tempting her nose.

“No, damn it, I want coffee,” she growled to herself. Stalking through to the living room, pulling a hooded sweater around her and snatching up her handbag. The small store at the end of the street should still be open and while it was the last place she’d usually go to buy any kind of fresh product, questionable milk was better than no milk at all. She’d be there and back in less than 10 minutes, the coffee would still be hot. Easing her feet into her sneakers she pulled open the door and let out a high pitched yelp of surprise when she all but ran into a man right outside her door.

“Oh shit!” she yelled, half laughing as she fought to get her heart rate under control. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t expecting to see…anyone…”
Her words tumbled away from her as her eyes looked into the face of the man standing in the hallway. He was tall, taller than her, and his face was completely unknown but there was something. In his eyes. Blue and bright and somehow, familiar.

That was when she felt it. The same pang of need that she’d felt every time she’d been allowed to see his eyes. Bridget felt herself reaching for the doorframe to cling onto as a wave of dizziness rolled through her.

“Is it?” she began haltingly, her voice suddenly sounding like it might break. “Is it you?”

She looked up and down his physique, looking into his face for some kind of clue. Hoping to find one.
Who else could be stood outside her door so late at night?

“Please be you,” she felt her throat grow scratchy as the hope morphed into desperation. She’d spent so many hours since her release going back to her time with him, reliving the memories of his touch. Aching to feel it again.

 

[marauder13]

There was no time to ready himself for what happened. It had not even crossed his mind that she would be awake, let alone coming for the door that he was about to open. For the first time in years, Ryan was caught without a backup to cover him.

Before him was a woman who was almost unrecognizable fully clothed. He had never seen her in any other state than being naked, and he had grown so used to it that he could look at her naked the same way he looked at another personal clothed.

But her face was clearly visible, and she looked a little worse than when he saw her last. If he would guess, he would say that she hadn't slept well. It saddened him to think that she was not happy, living her life given that she was no longer held by him, and used as he wanted, regardless of her thoughts and feelings. He had an idea that she had bonded to him, but had no idea of how strong that bond was, and what it had been doing to her while she was away from him.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t expecting to see…anyone…”

The smile was on his lips, the apology about to be murmured when her voice went quiet, and he saw her looking at him. Wrong, looking at his eyes. He watched her as her mind filled in many gaps as she looked directly at his eyes. He knew she was figuring out who it was standing there before him, and he didn;t know what he wanted to happen. He wanted her to know it was him, and want him as he wanted her. But that would put them both in jeopardy, at risk of at least a jail term for kidnapping, sexual assault and a few other charges he had no desire to recall. But then he hoped that she would be mistaken, and he could do as he should have, and just left to live out the rest of his days knowing he had avenged his wife.

He watched on as dispassionately as he could as she reached for the door frame to prevent herself from falling, her gaze never wavering for a moment.

“Is it? Is it you?”

He could feel the turmoil in her washing over him as she struggled to find the words she wanted to say. Her question put it beyond doubt that she had identified him. A huge weight fell on him, threatening to crush him as he knew what he had to do. She was not his wife, he would die for her, nor suffer the prison sentence that would surely come. He had no choice, in his mind, but to carry out the other option he put to her if she ever saw him.

“Please be you.”

Those words changed everything in a moment. She was hoping it was him? The man who kidnapped her, abused her even branded her before throwing her away, knowing that she was somehow emotionally attached to him, and she still wanted him?

The weight that threatened to crush him vanished, allowing him to resume his full height. He looked down on her, a new light in his eyes, one that spoke of the lust, desire and need that exploded into being with those three words.

He stepped forward, his presence urging her to step back into her home, clearing the doorway enough to allow his passage, and further more, close the door behind him. His attire was different to those times she saw him, but the power he radiated was the same as before, and she would not doubt for a moment she was facing her captor.

"Remove those clothes and show me what is mine. Show me the mark that declares that you are mine.

"Know this woman, if you are ever clothed when I arrive, I shall punish you before I set you to your duties. If I have any reason to believe that you have told anyone who I am, I will carry though with what I promised when we first met."

He dropped his bag, knelt beside it and opened it with a slow, ominous sounding pull of the zipper. He reached in and found a coiled length of rope, which he removed. One simple look reminded Bridget of the rope he used to tie her hands when he led her somewhere, because it was the same rope.

"Hurry, woman, we don't have all night."

 

[Britwitch]

Bridget felt her breath catch in her throat as the stranger before seemed to grow in height a couple of inches and then moved confidently towards her. Instinct making her feet retreat back inside her apartment, watching as the man pushed the door shut behind him and continued forwards until they were both in the main room. The rich smell of coffee hanging in the air. Bridget found herself unable to move, almost jumping when he spoke to her at last.

"Remove those clothes and show me what is mine. Show me the mark that declares that you are mine."

The voice was so unlike the one she was used to hearing, the robotic sound she'd heard in her dreams so often since her release and that one whispered word in his real voice. The voice he used now. Even if she hadn't been sure at the sight of his eyes, the way in which he spoke confirmed that it was him. She couldn't have stopped the smile that spread across her face even if she'd tried. There was a thrill deep in her stomach, the same nervous sense of anticipation she'd felt whenever she'd heard the door opening to her room. She felt more alive in those few moments than she had since she'd awoken in the hospital.

"Know this woman, if you are ever clothed when I arrive, I shall punish you before I set you to your duties. If I have any reason to believe that you have told anyone who I am, I will carry though with what I promised when we first met."

"I won't, I swear I won't," she said quickly and quietly, watching as he let his bag fall to the floor. Unable to tear her eyes away as he opened it and pulled out a length of rope.

Her mind replaying his words...

"...if you are ever clothed when I arrive, I shall punish you before I set you to your duties..."

Another thrill rushed through her at the thought that he planned to visit her again.

"Hurry, woman, we don't have all night."

"No," she agreed with a shallow nod of her head and then her hands began to move. Stripping away the layers of clothes she'd been wearing. First the hooded sweater was unzipped and shrugged off, the grey top landing softly on the floor at her feet. Shucked off her trainers while she pulled the black vest she'd had on underneath up and over her head. As Bridget unbuttoned and pushed down her jeans there was not a moment of hesitation on her part. Within moments she was in her panties and bra, the large brand on her thigh now visible. Well healed, the angry mark was growing paler although it would never disappear.

She reached back to unhook her bra, letting her breasts be as uncovered as the rest of her and then she rolled her panties down over her hips until she was as naked as she'd been throughout her time with him.

Bridget was trembling now though. Adrenaline coursing through her veins along with desire and lust and fear and a hundred other emotions. She knew she should have slammed the door. Bolted it in every conceivable way and called the police. She should have barricaded herself in and waited to be rescued. She shouldn't be stood naked in the middle of her own apartment with the man who had stolen her and tortured her in so many way, lifting her arms as she had done so many times before until they were out before her and crossed slightly at the wrists. Waiting to be bound. To be used. To be his once again.

She shouldn't. But she was.

 

[marauder13]

There was no argument from her. No act of defiance nor resistance. Initially it was fright, then disbelief, all replaced with acquiescence to his demands. Ryan looked on as Bridget snapped into action, shedding the layers of clothing she had on when she met him in the doorway. Watching her slowly reveal herself to him, showing off the body he had seen in all its glory every moment he had her as a captive, was a delight to see. No strip tease, no removal of clothing had ever looked as great as it had in those moments.

Then came the action that thrilled him the most. He couldn't believe his eyes at first as she raised her arms, wrists crossed in readiness for binding with the rope he had in his hand. He stared at her wrists, making sure, beyond all doubt, that he was seeing what was actually there. Once he was certain that his mind was not painting pictures of what he would like to see, but actually what he was seeing, he moved closer.

It was so ingrained in his mind that Ryan could have done it all with his eyes closed. His hands and arms moved with a flow that was graceful, knowing precisely where he was going, and where the other hand needed to be to continue the action without unnecessary delays. It didn't take long for him to have her wrists secured, and in that time, he determine how he was going to renew their relationship.

Ryan moved with deliberate slowness, removing one piece of clothing at a time, starting with his shoes and socks. There was no need to rush, because she was not going anywhere, and was not going to resist. She wanted what he was going to give her, and he was going to give her everything she wanted, and needed.

His shirt followed, showing a torso that was not gone to fat, but one that was not athletic nor musclebound either. But there were signs of strength in his arms and the breadth of his chest also lent evidence to that view. His jeans were shed, and the legs were also showing signs of power, mainly in the thighs. His underwear did little to hide what Bridget knew was there, and moments later, he was as exposed as she was.

Bridget would see that he was excited to see her, and ready to act on that excitement. He closed on her again, took her by her bound wrists, and led her to the closed front door. He pushed her body into the door, facing it, with her arms held high over her head before he slammed his body against her, pinning her there.

His free hand grabbed his steely length and guided it between her legs, easily seeking the blazing, soaked entrance to her deeper self. With a grunt, he drove himself as deep as he could go, shifting his hips to maximize the depth of the penetration. He kept her pressed hard against the door while he savoured the heat.

"Again, you're trapped and can't really escape, and I am going to do what I want to you, and you'll enjoy it, wont you?"

Ryan fucked her with hard thrusts, pausing for a second or two before giving her another, hammering her like he would a nail into a piece of wood. Deep grunts accompanied each thrust, followed sometimes by a groan of pleasure at once more having the woman he needed.

"Not that I think it is a problem, Bridget." He ceased his actions after he used her name. He left himself pressed against her while sheathed as fully as he could within her. "But you will not allow anyone else to use this body, will you? You know what will happen if someone else does, don't you? And it will not only be you who will be punished either."

After a few more seconds of silence, Ryan let go of his self control, and let himself fuck her hard, letting his body set the pace of his initial taking of her as himself, rather than as Taurus. How long he abandoned all his self control, he had no idea, but the ferocity of the need was such that he slipped out of her completely and had two or three failed thrusts before he realized what had happened.

He half growled, half snarled as he grabbed her bound wrists and peeled her from the door to drag her back into the main room, and roughly put her on her back on the floor. He wasted little time in getting between her legs, and once more impaling her. For the first time, he was able to look into her eyes as he fucked her, looked at her as he claimed her. Let her see how much he needed to make her submit to his desires, and how much he really believed he more or less owned her.

His eyes remained locked on hers for the entire time he had her on the floor, his eyes widening as his pleasure flooded her, never wanting to surrender to the deep desire to close his eyes as the great pleasure rolled over him. He never moved once his body finished pumping, he never moved once she started to soften within her. He kept her trapped, her generous body pressed against him, and for the life of him, he could think of no reason to move away from her, and he prayed that she felt the same way.