CHAPTER 1: THE STRANGER UNDER MY BED

THEME: Dark, Intrusive, Taboo Stranger Encounter.

KINKS: Stranger sex, voyeurism, rough dominance, forced orgasm, consensual non-consent sex.

I wake up with a start,

... Not even knowing why.

My skin tingles and I sit up, noticing that my apartment is quiet.

I blink severally, adjusting my eyes to the darkness slowly while I look around nervously.

The streetlight outside is throwing pale light across my floor and my room is still they way it was when I went to bed---- nothing looks out of place---- but I can’t shake off the feeling that jolted me awake.

I stay like that for a few seconds and then let out a breath when nothing happens.

It was probably just a bad dream or something.

Shuffling, I start to turn and finally lay back down on my bed when I hear a breath, and I freeze instantly.

That definitely didn't come from me, it sounded like it came from...

... Under the bed?

My stomach flips but I try to calm myself, surely someone can't----

I'm still thinking when I hear a soft shuffling movement as I a person is shifting against carpet fibers.

Oh no, there’s someone under my bed; and I don't know if the person is a killer or burglar but I know I have to call the cops now.

So I reach slowly and quietly for my phone on the nightstand, wrapping my fingers around it just when something grabs my ankle.

I scream instantly, but it’s swallowed by a large hand placed over my mouth while the other keeps pinning my leg down.

“Shhh…”

The voice is deep, like velvet when I hear it.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers. “Unless you ask me to.”

My heart pounds against my ribs at that, and I thrash, but his grip is strong, not loosening even for a bit.

Suddenly he climbs out from beneath the bed to the top of it and pins me down with his body, facing me as he did.

But I can’t see his face---- just a mask that's black with two holes for his eyes.

“You leave your window unlocked,” he murmurs, brushing my hair off my face. “... every night.”

“G--- Get off me,” I stammer but he doesn't do that, instead his palm glides up my thigh, warmly and roughly, pushing my nightshirt higher to reveal that I'm wearing nothing underneath.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” he asks.

“You touched yourself three nights ago, right here and cried when you came.”

My eyes widen at that.

How does he-----?

“I was under the bed then, too.”

My breath catches and my pussy clenches; to my horror, I feel myself getting wet.

“You’re scared,” he says, leaning in and dragging his nose along my jaw.

"But your body’s telling me something else.”

“You’re---- insane,” I whisper, though my thighs shift beneath him involuntarily.

He chuckles at that, “Maybe, but so are you. Who leaves their window open in this neighborhood wearing nothing but a silk shirt?”

Saying this, his fingers slide between my legs and I gasp, arching when he brushes over my folds.

“Your'e dripping,” he growls. “Fucking dripping already.”

“Don’t----”

“Don’t what?” he breathes against me. “Don't touch you?”

He teases my clit with slow and firm circles. “Or don’t stop?”

My hands push at his chest, but they’re suddenly weak and I don't push him.

“I should call the cops,” I breathe.

“Do it after you come.”

Then his fingers slide inside me, and I cry out.

... Not in fear— no, in pleasure; It's raw, so sudden and humiliating, and even worse, my body clenches around him.

“You’re filthy,” he rasps. “And you don’t even know it.”

“I don’t want this,” I say and he slows his fingers.

“Look me in the eye and say that again.”

So I meet his gaze, seeing those dark..... hypnotic eyes, staring down at me through the mask and my lips part, but the words don't come out.

And he smirks, “That’s what I thought.”

He moves faster now, driving his fingers in deeper and I grab the pillow behind me, moaning uncontrollably now.

“Louder,” he demands.

“Fuck— oh God— please!”

He keeps going, holding me in place and doesn’t stop for even a second, till my orgasm crashes into me so fast that it steals the air from my lungs.

My eyes roll to the back of my head, legs tremble violently, and my moans melt into sobs of release.

And when I open my eyes, he’s already dragging me to the edge of the bed.

“W- What are you doing?”

“Making you come again.”

I gasp, but don't even get time to process his words before he spins me, bending me over the mattress, and yanks my shirt up.

Then his hand slides between my cheeks, spreading me open with his thumbs as he growls in approval.

“Such a perfect little hole,” he says, rubbing the slick mess between my thighs.

“Beg me.”

“No…”

That infuriates him, so he spanks me hard and I yelp in shock.

“Fuck!”

“Try again.”

“Please,” I whimper, giving in and grinding my hips against the edge of the bed.

... But he doesn't say anything or touch me, and I whimper again.

“I need it— please fuck me.”

“Better.”

I hear him unzips his pants, and then feel him; so hot and heavy, and sliding against my soaked slit.

“I should be arrested,” he whispers in my ear.

“You should,” I manage to rasp while my hips lifts, searching for him.

“But you’d bail me out, wouldn’t you?”

I don’t answer him, because in the next second, he pushes into me, all full length of him.

... I scream, not from pain but from shock from how good it feels.

He fucks me recklessly, with deep, brutal strokes that make the bed creak and my body bounce forward.

Then his hand twists in my hair, pulling my head back and making me gasps from the force an moan from the sweet pleasure as he groans against my ear.

“Look at you,” he pants.

“So fucking wet, so ready for a stranger’s cock.”

“You’re— ah mmm— insane—”

“I’ll take that as a thank you.”

He slams into me again then, hitting a spot so deep that my vision blurs and I choke on a scream.

My hands claw at the sheets, desperate to get a grip of something, but it's useless to stop what’s coming.

I come again, violently and convulsing beneath him.

“Fuck,” he snarls, thrusting harder into me.

"You’re going to make me—”

His body stiffens, and I feel him spill inside me, thick and hot for what seems like an endless time.

Then we collapse onto the bed in silence with only the sound of our breath filling the room.

After a long moment, he stands up from the bed, pulls his pants up and tucks himself back into the black.

“What’s your name?” I rasp in asking, but he just walks toward the window.

“You’ll know it when I want you to.”

He’s just about to slip out when he pauses and then reaches into his pocket to pull something out.

... a, wait, that's my... my lipstick.

He walks over to my mirror hanging on the wall and writes something across the glass in the red of my lipstick and slips it back into his pocket before heading to the window again

I wait until he’s gone before I crawl out of the bed to read it.

My legs are shaking, my thighs are sticky and my heart hasn’t slowed hasn't slowed yet, so I just barely manage to read the bold, slanted strokes.

“See you next week.”