Intruder

(You asked for it and here it is, chapter 4. Comments and criticism are welcome and encouraged, but if you're not into rape themed erotic fiction, then I suggest you stop reading right now. For everybody else, please enjoy!)

I awoke to a queasy feeling in my stomach rising gradually towards my throat. I slipped out of bed and padded, naked, to the bathroom before dry heaving into the sink. I looked up at my reflection in the mirror, pale faced from nausea, and unconsciously rested a hand on my belly. The dry heaving returned and I drank a glass of water to calm my stomach.

The door to the bathroom opened and a familiar pair of hands grabbed me by the hips and began to slide across my belly and waist, making my skin tingle with sensual pleasure.

"You sound a little out of sorts, my dear." said my intruder, leaning forward over my shoulder and planting his lips on my neck. The sensation made me shiver and a moist feeling bloomed in my crotch.

"I'm fine, thank you sir." I replied a little dreamily as my rapist-lover caressed me.

"Is there something you need to tell me?" my intruder asked. He planted his palms firmly on my stomach and gazed expectantly at my reflection in the mirror. I finally relented.

"I'm pregnant." I admitted slowly.

He didn't respond for a good long minute, then his grasp loosened on my belly, but his embrace tightened slightly, pressing me protectively against his own naked body.

"When did you know?" he asked me.

"I woke up a week ago and just felt ... different," I replied with a blissful tone that was quite at odds with the bout of nausea that had just forced me out of bed. A broad smile broke out across his face.

"Very good," he said approvingly, resuming his exploration of my body, "you'll look beautiful with a baby bump." One hand rested on my stomach and he began to play with my belly piercing, "but you'll have to take this out." I covered my piercing with a protective hand.

"But I like my piercing." I said in a tone that was a little whinier than I would have liked.

"So do I," he replied endearingly, giving my stomach a playful scratch, "but as your abdomen expands, it will become far less comfortable to wear."

"But I'm not even showing yet," I protested. He gave my piercing a harsh tug, eliciting a sharp spike of pain in my navel.

"Rules 2 & 5?" He prompted sternly.

"I understand, sir." I answered submissively, hanging my head like a disciplined puppy. He took hold of my chin and lifted my mouth towards his, pulling me into a sensual kiss. I instinctively kissed him back, allowing his tongue to invade my mouth. The intimacy of the kiss made my body shiver and sent a sexual tingle down to my womanhood. He broke off the kiss and spoke to me.

"You can keep it in for now," he said graciously, "but it has to come out by the end of the first trimester. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir." was my obedient response. With that he resumed the kiss. One hand held me by the cheek, keeping me in place for the kiss. The other hand massaged my belly before slipping down to my crotch. My labia were moist with pleasure, and I began to moan into his mouth as he fondled the most intimate part of my body. I could feel his manhood growing harder and harder, poking into my ass cheek. He was pleasuring me to make me more pliable in satisfying his own needs.

He abruptly broke off the kiss and planted his free hand between my shoulder blades, pushing my face down over the sink. I put out my hands to stop my head from hitting the tap while he used his feet to force my legs apart and his other hand to position the head of his cock at the entrance to my dripping snatch.

I gasped aloud as he entered me, his massive member filling me up to the hilt. After six weeks of constant fucking, my cunt had become well ploughed indeed. Gone was the pain of the first few times he had forced himself inside me, now it was pure bliss.

Taking a firm hold of my hips, my intruder thrust himself into me, keeping his strokes long and powerful, and pulling my hips back into his groin. I stood there, bent over the sink, moaning like the submissive, horny bitch I had become, content to let him spill his seed inside me again.

Unexpectedly, he took one hand off my hips and grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking my head backwards. The tugging on my scalp hurt, yet it was also strangely erotic, and I acquiesced in the new sensations he was forcing me to undergo.

My love-canal grew slicker and slicker as his thrusting grew fiercer and less restrained. With one hand still tugging on my hair, his other hand took a firm hold on my belly, massaging it with the utmost care even as his strokes began to produce wet slapping noises that echoed around the small bathroom.

"Your belly will grow bigger and bigger as my child grows inside you," my rapist/lover whispered into my ear with barely restrained masculine lust, "and when the time comes, you will squeeze our child out from between your legs, and only then will you truly become a woman." His words chimed with my feminine instincts as my ecstasy continued to build throughout my body. I could feel the new life growing inside me, and it was all because of him. It was his virile seed that had filled me, just as he was threatening to fill me again.

My orgasm broke over me like a wave on a rock, making me cry out in pleasure, bucking and heaving as the ecstasy washed through me. My rapist-lover accelerated his rutting to a bull-like frenzy in response to my orgasm, and I ground my ass into his groin in reciprocal fucking motions, trying to get as much of his cock into me as possible. His seed had already been planted deep in my belly, but I needed him to fill me again. A few moments later I got my wish.

The intruder thrust himself into me as deep as he could possibly go, the tip of his cock actually touching my cervix, and he ejaculated with a bestial snarl. I felt his semen fill my pussy in successive hot, sticky jets, thoroughly inseminating me as he had done so many times before. Once again, my orgasm collided with his, and I almost blacked out from the combined climax that resulted.

Over the course of several long minutes, his seminal jets became spurts, and the spurts became dribbles; and then finally, he pulled out of me. I slumped forward over the sink, utterly wasted from this latest nighttime romp as the intruder cleaned himself up before carefully leading me back to bed.

***

He gingerly laid me down on the mattress, his cum still oozing from my slit, before heading back to the bathroom. I was too exhausted to move, but still not so tired that I could doze off back to sleep again. My nausea was gone for now, but it would probably come back fairly soon, especially given that it was morning sickness. Instead, I lay there, idly playing with my recently refilled snatch and picturing my latest rape in lurid detail.

I wasn't even sure it still qualified as rape anymore. Certainly, he would fuck me whether I wanted to or not, but just as he had conquered my body by impregnating me, so he had almost conquered my mind with the exquisite pleasure he made me undergo every time he forced himself inside me.

As my post-orgasmic fugue gradually subsided, however, the details of my situation returned to me. For the past six weeks this intruder had raped me on a daily and nightly basis, determined to impregnate me against my will. Sometimes I pleaded, and fought, and cried, but mostly I submitted for fear of harsh reprisals, then squealed with ecstasy as he fucked me; and he still hadn't told me who he was.

The intruder exited the bathroom and went into the kitchen, working on god knew what. I hadn't told him I was pregnant out of fear of what would happen once the baby was born. Why had my rapist chosen me? Would he disappear once it was too late for an abortion, or once I had given birth? Would he try to take the child with him once it was born? To the UK or some other place? The possibility of my child being taken away from me made me gasp aloud in horror, and I hugged my belly protectively. It may not have been my choice to conceive it, but this baby was MINE. After all that I had been through, I would rather die than let anyone take it away from me.

He returned from the kitchen, still naked, and clambered into bed next to me. I sidled away to give him space, but he rolled over and wrapped his arm around me, seeking out my precious abdomen.

"It's still only four in the morning," he said, caressing my belly, "you should try to get some more sleep."

"I can't sleep." I replied.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know anything about you," I twisted my head around to glare at him in the darkness, and let loose, "you came out of no where, raped me, impregnated me, made me a sex slave in my own home, and I don't even know your name. You're from Britain and you're some kind of spy with 'certain skills', whatever that means, but other than that I'm completely in the dark. As the mother of your child, I think you owe me an answer or two." I finished my frustrated rant and then nervously added, "sir." The intruder paused for a long time before answering, perhaps weighing up whether and how to punish me for talking back.

"Alright, darling" he answered after a while, "you can call me James."

"Am I carrying Bond Junior?" I asked sarcastically.

"No," he acknowledged, "but I can't tell you my full name."

"Otherwise you'd have to kill me," I huffed, rather unsatisfied that the father of my child wouldn't even tell me his real name. At that, 'James' took hold of one of my nipples and twisted it, making me yelp in pain.

"You shouldn't be so surly, sweetheart," the intruder admonished.

"I'm sorry," I whimpered.

""I'm sorry" what?" He prompted me sternly.

"I'm sorry ... James." I started to cry a little. He reached for my cheek and turned my head towards him, kissing me lovingly on the lips.

"Don't cry, Leah," he said, more like a man to his lover than a master to his slave girl, "you can call me James if you want. Just be more respectful next time." I figured he wasn't going to risk inflicting any injuries on a woman pregnant with his child, so I snuffled and took his word for it.

"What else would you like to know?" the intruder asked me tenderly, brushing my hair out of the way and caressing my cheek with his thumb.

"Will you take my child away when you leave?" I asked fearfully.

"No," he said categorically, "you carry it, you raise it. I'll give you necessary support for the child from time to time, but it's yours to care for." The relief that swept over me was tremendous, and I snuggled into his embrace. "You didn't think I was going to sell our baby on the black market did you?"

"Don't joke about that, please." I said uncomfortably, "I really was afraid that was part of your plan for me."

"Well you can rest assured that it's not," he assured me, his hand slipping down to my breasts again, tending to my twisted nipple, "besides, the most important part of womanhood is motherhood, and you can't be a mother without a child to care for."

"How many other women have you said that to?" I asked.

"I've had quite a few women before you, not all of them willing." he acknowledged, I felt a very curious twinge of jealousy tug at my heart strings. Why the hell would I be jealous of other women who had been raped by the same man as me?

"How much longer will you stay with me?" I asked him.

"You'll have to go back to work the Monday after next," the Intruder replied, "I'll leave a little before that."

"And then you'll move onto the next one." I said with genuine dejection creeping into my voice.

"Yes," he admitted. Now the jealousy become palpable.

"Why do men have to go round fucking all the women they see?" I complained indignantly, holding my intruder responsible for half the human race.

"Because it's to our evolutionary advantage," he replied coolly, "the kind of man who sticks around to help raise the children that he thinks he's sired is a beta male, and I am not a beta."

"That's not true at all," I answered, taking hold of his hand and clasping it tenderly in mine "nice guys don't finish last."

""Nice guys" don't finish at all." he quipped in response, "a man's best evolutionary strategy is to breed as many women as possible, and not get tied down with any one woman."

"But we're the ones who have to bear the consequences of getting fucked," I continued, a little sulkily "it'd be nice to have a little bit of help once you've "scored"." His hand slipped from my grasp and slid across my belly down to my womanhood.

"Which is why a woman's best strategy involves persuading a man to stay with her, or at least to visit frequently enough to help look after her children," his fingers discovered my clitoris and began to tease it ever so gently, causing a silent gasp to escape my mouth, "and that is why women fear rape so much, and why so many feminists are in denial over the fact that rape and consensual sex are one and the same act." His teasing of my clitoris became more vigorous, and I curled up defensively in response to his probing, "women are horrified by rape because it targets your reproductive strategy at its most vulnerable point, conquering you through the very act you use to convince a partner of your choosing to stay a little longer: the act of sexual intercourse."

"Do you really believe that?" I asked him, the growing pleasure in my groin starting to disrupt my focus.

"It makes the most sense," said my rapist, rubbing my pleasure-button with exquisite finesse, "great feminist philosophers like Susan Brownmiller expend so much energy trying unsuccessfully to prove that rape is unnatural, even though it occurs in numerous other species, and end up back at square one; why is there rape? The obvious answer is, because it's natural."

"How can you say that?" I objected, a lot more forcefully this time, "is it 'natural' when rapists beat, humiliate, or even kill their victims?"

"Of course not," my rapist answered, unfazed by my emotional outburst, "those kinds of rapists are either pathetically inadequate or sadistic psychopaths." Now he brought his other hand to bear, and began teasing my nipples with his fingers. The tide of ecstasy was inexorably drifting in, and there was little I could do to stop it.

"I am neither of those kinds of rapist," he continued, "I may 'discipline' you from time to time, but I have no intention of physically or emotionally hurting you. I rape because it feels natural to impose my sexual instincts on a beautiful woman, and in so doing force her to carry my genes on into the next generation. Almost every man feels that urge in one way or another, but they bury the urge to rape out of fear that it will make them a 'monster' or a 'creep'. I have the balls to let my masculine instincts run wild, as they were always meant to do."

I was positively leaking cunt juice from my crotch just from listening to his sexually charged rhetoric and his wonderfully sophisticated British accent. Even six weeks on, his philosophy, if one could call it that, was still hard for me to compute. Rape was still a horrible thing ... except, my experiences told me, when 'James' did it.

His hand delved right between my thighs and levered me onto my back again. I took hold of his thick wrist and tried to get his hand away from my pussy, but he was too strong for me and effortlessly inserted three fingers into my dripping snatch. I grunted in response to the intrusion, feeling his digits wriggle inside me in a come-hither movement as he placed his palm on my pubic bone.

I've been finger fucked before, including once by a girl friend, but never like this before. My rapist - lover was probably more accurate by now - pleasured me like a pro, the tips of his fingers found my G-spot and rubbed it relentlessly. I bucked and heaved, rendered utterly helpless by the storm of pleasure that came over me. When the orgasm hit me I arched my back like a contortionist, the ecstasy filling my body to the brim for at least a whole minute. I was panting with exhaustion as he withdrew his fingers from my depths and brought them up to my lips.

"Open your mouth, Leah," he ordered me. Too orgasmically wasted to object, I obeyed his command. He stuck his dripping fingers all the way to the back of my throat, making me gag a little as I swallowed the mixture of semen and vaginal lubricant. That would probably come back up later thanks to the morning sickness. Next he put his hands between my thighs and forced them open, I tried to force them closed again but he was having none of it and yanked them wide open, positioning himself between them for the hundredth time.

"Please, I don't want to do it again so soon," I lied, begging like a slave. I tried to sit up and push him away, beating his chest with my tiny fists. Of course I knew that as a woman against such a powerful man, I may as well have been a housefly attacking a concrete wall. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up close to him.

"You've been quite rude tonight," my intruder reproached me, his hardened cock poking at my pussy, "I think you're in need of a little more disciplining. Besides, you seem to have forgotten rule number one." With that, he pushed me onto my back again. Planting one hand on my belly, he took hold of his manhood with the other and rubbed the head up and down my dripping wet snatch before thrusting it all the way inside me.

The intruder had raped me so many times before that I had lost count, but I never failed to gasp in pleasure and sheer awe as he filled me all the way up to the hilt, forcing my vagina to stretch massively to accommodate his bull cock. The hairs all over my skin stood on end as my rapist and lover revelled in his sexual domination of my body. Then he began to thrust.

I was already slick with vaginal fluids, as well as his cum from our previous fucking, and so his initial thrusts produced wet slaps each time. His rutting began at a faster pace than usual, whilst retaining their familiar power. I yelped in response to each stroke as he made the bed creak with his movements, moving my hips in response to his thrusts. It was pitch black, and I couldn't see him. The atmosphere reminded me of the night he first took me. An intruder in the dark, a prowling rapist who had chosen me to be the mother of his child, the submissive vessel for his DNA. My yelps were now shameless moans of ecstasy as my rapist's fucking of my slick pussy increased to a relentless tempo.

Suddenly he lowered himself down on top of me until his stomach was rubbing against mine. He took hold of both my wrists with his hands and pinned them in place, positioning his head beside mine. Then he continued his rutting with renewed force. I let out girlish noises as he fucked me, too overwhelmed by his sheer masculinity to do anything except lie there and squeal.

"This is why I do what I do," he hissed into my ear, "because spilling my seed deep inside a woman's body, in full knowledge of my power to impregnate her, is the most extraordinary feeling in the world. Tell me, Leah, what does it feel like to be on the receiving end of a true man's lust?"

I could not even begin to describe the answer to his question, drowning as I was in my own lust. My slender, feminine frame was imprisoned beneath his overbearing weight, and my tiny wrists were totally encompassed by his powerful hands and pinned to the bed as he fucked me. The feeling of sheer powerlessness in the grip of this alpha male, my alpha male, mixed with the sensation of this testosterone fuelled beast rutting my pussy with his bull-like cock compounded my rapidly approaching orgasm.

When my orgasm struck, I screamed at the top of my lungs, my whole body spasmed in ecstasy. As a woman, socialised, and perhaps also evolved, to feel mortal terror at the thought of rape, I wished with all my heart, with my entire being, that every rapist in the world could be like this man.