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𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖆𝖑𝖑 π–‰π–Šπ–’π–”π–“π–˜ π–‘π–Žπ–›π–Š π–Žπ–“ π–π–Šπ–‘π–‘ ΰ­­ Β·ΰ£­ ˖【 Κ€ ᴇ α΄  ᴇ Κ€ Ιͺ ᴇ .  +  α΄  ᴇ Κ€ ꜱ ᴇ 】

reverie.

β™‘β€… ΚŸα΄‡α΄› ᴍᴇ ʙᴇ Κα΄α΄œΚ€ π’ƒπ’‚π’ƒπ’šβ€… β™‘
Staff member
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Aug 7, 2021



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𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖆𝖑𝖑 π–‰π–Šπ–’π–”π–“π–˜ π–‘π–Žπ–›π–Š π–Žπ–“ π–π–Šπ–‘π–‘
ᴀ  α΄… α΄€ Κ€ ᴋ  Κ€ ᴏ ʟ ᴇ ᴘ ʟ α΄€ ʏ  Κ™ ʏ  Κ€ ᴇ α΄  ᴇ Κ€ Ιͺ ᴇ .  α΄€ Ι΄ ᴅ  α΄  ᴇ Κ€ ꜱ ᴇ
@Verse
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RYAN KREISLER
P O L I C Eβ€…  O F F I C E R  βͺ 34 ❫
β•šβ•                                                ═╝

Ryan Kreisler had just transferred here. His record as an officer was-- jagged. There were a few brushes with the wrong element, but charges were usually dropped, either by the opposing side, or quelled by his superiors before anything could really stick. And there were brilliant highs, as well. He even had the biggest drug bust in a medium sized city three cities away to his name. It was probably because of that, that he had been able to transfer to Yareli PD so easily. That, and they were always in need of detectives who had some experience with organized crime. Because here crime damn well had all its ducks in a row. Not too long ago, there had been an all out war between part of the national army, and the criminals of this place, affectionately called New City. And the criminals had won. It was a good thing they hadn't been aiming for infrastructure and official positions. Just to make a point with a lot of guns and explosive.

But there had been enough good intent left, that when the bad element receded from the streets, the police force could continue doing their good work. Organized or not, it was hard to keep killers and thieves focused. And the common people of New City had just kept on, even if some of them had been victims of the wild gunfire. They were the product, after all, and while they weren't protected, they weren't target specifically.

It was hard to see, in the beautiful skyline and lights, Ryan had though, when he drove in. For as much bad shit as this lady had in her belly, she sure looked like money and good construction on the outside. He had already made himself a name in the precinct. He'd done the rounds and knew which badges were solid, and which were useful. The ones who would be heroes were few, but somehow they always managed to get up in rather high positions. Maybe it was the city that needed some kind of defense against the overwhelming corruption, or maybe good guys were just more motivated. Either way, Ryan made it his business to know. The tall and athletic newcomer had already been here six months, and palled around with what might well be the next commissioner. Too bad he was on the good side, which meant he only knew of, and didn't partake in, the bribes rampant in the department. Ryan himself wore a particularly beautiful and close-to-the-body suit, bought and paid for by some of the heroine shippers from China town. He'd done his work to earn it though. There was a murder case getting cold on his desk because of it, and the Triad were very happy about that.

Ryan had noticeable features, a well defined face, but the shadows on it were always a little mean, even when he was being sociable and smiling, and shaking hands. His shirt was a deep green and his black tie was held in place with an expensive silver pin. He looked like he was vying for votes rather than just mingling with his law enforcer friends. The policeman's ball. A big event. If he wanted to sell his persona as one of them, and keep suspicions off while he did dark things in the Yareli night, he needed to be here, to be seen. He didn't mind a good party. It was always a rush to stand among these men and women, knowing he did everything they'd sworn to fight. Even his friendship was a mockery to them.

And then he saw something he liked. By the way she dressed, she was a guest. He recognized her soon from one of the photos on his friend's desk. Hah. That made it even better. She was the wife of one of the heroes. The carefree charm he'd seen on the photo, when she and her husband were out hiking, had been replaced with elegance here. But something about her was still inviting, friendly. She was supporting someone she loved, after all, and if you can't feel safe in a banquet hall full of cops, where can you? Ryan came over to her, because he wanted to stand next to the pretties thing in the room. Their difference in height was staggering, and he liked that.

"You're familiar." he said to get her attention, and had his hand out for her before she could think. Her smile was wide, and he kept some friendliness in his eyes to draw her in. He needed her to trust him.

-

He remembered that night well. He would have talked longer and joked more in almost lewd ways if Jeremy Andrews hadn't invited himself into the conversation. Eleanor had remained polite but like any dutiful wife she'd paid more attention to her cop husband. Ryan had found it all a bit frustrating, and even though he knew Jeremy was mostly a modest man, it almost looked as though he was flaunting his beautiful woman. That's when the new detective had decided Eleanor would be his next project. She certainly looked the part of a pretty pet.

Ryan stepped out of his black, low-build car. The maroon leather jacket over a black tanktop complimented the badge and glock on the side of his belt well. Or maybe it was the body honed over vain gym attendance and the labor of beating and killing whatever people found themselves on his list.

He looked up at the house paid for with honest cop wages. And maybe with some compliment of an author's advances, if you believed in Elle's writing. It was a decent home, but nothing like the central apartment Ryan had inherited from an aforementioned person on his list.

The doorbell had a very inviting metal frame, but he still insisted on knocking on the admittedly sturdy and secure door. Leave it to Jerry to at least try and keep his wife safe. Ryan waited for Elle to open. He knew enough about the couple that he'd made sure she'd be alone at home. He was excited to see her in her day attire as opposed to the dress she's been in that night, when he decided she needed another man in her life. He bet she'd smell good when she let him in.

"Hi, Elle," he said with just a tinge of urgency pulling at his forehead when the door unlocked and separated from the frame. She knew him, so he'd get in, but he still laid it on thick. "It's about Jerry. Listen, can we talk?" And even though he hadn't asked specifically, she'd let him in.

And once inside he would close the door for her. His demeanor changed. The slight hunch he'd come in with straightened, underlining their unfair height advantage further. He loved that she was so small. His expression was dangerously confident when he looked her up and down. Like he owned her already. She'd find that her husband wasn't so urgently on his mind anymore.

He stood close, all but pinning her between the door and his imposing physicality.

"Why don't you show me around?" He asked hand supporting him against the door, over her head, to let him lean down at her. She'd note he was at least a head taller than her husband.
dialogue: 556463
 
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ELEANOR ANDREWS
P U B L I S H E D  A U T H O R  βͺ 32 ❫
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The last person Elle had expected to see on the other side of the door when she opened it was one of her husband's colleagues. "Ryan," she greeted him, worry already visible on her pretty face before he'd even opened his mouth. She'd met Ryan a couple of weeks ago at the Policeman's Ballβ€”a ball hosted annually to honor the entire police department and their great workβ€”where he'd been nothing but complimentary. Elle looked nothing like that night today though. She was not wearing her floor-length gown, nor was her hair up in an elegant bun. No, Elle was wearing a pair of loose sweatpants and a tight-fitting sweater that showed just a tiny strip of her narrow waist. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders, and although she wore a little bit of makeup, her face looked different than it had been weeks prior. She was still a natural beautyβ€”as people tended to remind her of every so oftenβ€”but it was easy to tell that she was not expecting visitors, let alone a cop.

She'd been up in her office writing a steamy scene for her new book when the doorbell had rung. If she'd known it was him, she might have stopped to look in the mirrorβ€”it looked like she'd just gotten out of bed. Which, to be honest, wasn't that far from the truth. She had been up for a while, but she'd gone straight to the office after breakfast. Jeremy had left for work before she even woke up. This time she hadn't even heard him leave.

When he mentioned Jeremy, pure fear reflected in her eyes. "What?" She quickly stepped aside to let him enter. He'd better not come to tell her Jeremy had been injured. . . or dead. Her brain was going over every possible scenario as he helped her close the door, placing his hand over hers. She was barely paying attention to what was happening, too scared that something bad had happened to her husband, she didn't realize something bad was about to happen to her.

It wasn't until he spoke again that she was dragged back to reality, and she realized how close he was. Her back was pinned against the door they'd just closed, and he was leaning over her, blocking her path. She felt minuscule under his presence, Ryan being even taller than her husband. "I'm sorry, what?" Confusion clouded her fear for a moment and she blinked up at him, trying to make sense of his words. "What about Jeremy?" she asked, sounding all worried if not panicked. "Is he all right?" She wanted to know what was going on with her husband, and why it was so urgent he had to show up on her doorstep.

Elle was painfully aware of his presenceβ€”how his body basically was flushed against hersβ€”but right now, her brain was more focused on her husband. "He's not injured, is he? Please don't tell me he got himself shot." She didn't know what she'd do if something happened to Jeremy. They were both familiar with the risks of being a police officer, but so far he'd gotten away without a scratch. Well, almost. He'd been in a car crash once, and he'd been in a few fightsβ€”some of them off-duty. But no one had ever knocked on her door like this. "Just tell me, please." She wanted answers, and she wanted them now.

dialogue: 89778c
 


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RYAN KREISLER
P O L I C Eβ€…  O F F I C E R  βͺ 34 ❫
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It worked like a charm. Like a little spoken spell that opened this house for him, when he mentioned her husband. It wasn't like people didn't know what would tug at a cop wife's heart. It was almost too easy. And yet, Jeremy hadn't warned her of it, especially not when Ryan was the one carrying the news to her doorstep. She had no reason to distrust him, even though he didn't really put out the vibe that he was particularly upstanding. Sometimes criminals got a little smirk when they saw him, before knowing his affiliations. That didn't always save them from nine millimeter holes in her foreheads, though. So Ryan came in real quick, and slid his fingers between her knuckles on the door knob when they closed it together. She was so lovely in her house attired. He liked this look. And he liked her hair like this. He liked the contrast between them, him in outside clothes and her cozy.

Her body knew before her mind did. His posture meant something. Why would a man stand over a woman like this; why would he fence her in with his body? She was bustling with anxiety all of a sudden, it was beautiful on her expressive face. She really did love Jeremy, didn't she? But Ryan was going to change that. He'd turn her against herself. He liked seeing them struggle. And she begged real well, too. There was confidence in his mirth; that sadistic twist of one corner of his lips. Like she was a fragile toy and he was holding a hammer. He wondered if she'd agree that she was gorgeous now, depending on him for his next words. Almost like he decided whether Jeremy lived or died. Just a few seconds in and she was already begging him. He might want to keep things like that.

But he needed to take focus from Jeremy and onto him. Ryan didn't share spotlight. So he shook his head. He was sure that would let her have some relief. But she'd be mistaken. He quickly followed it with grabbing her jaw, thumb pressing into her cheek and fingers hooked into the other side of the face. She had a big mouth, and he wanted to see it gulp in horror. She'd been so secure and safe and radiant in the party; like some rare animal who'd never been hunted. Maybe now she'd realize the danger with her head too, and not just her heart. "Jeremy is fine. He's not the one about to be ruined." he said calmly, just a hint of the accent of his mother's birth country, Britain.

"I think you know what this is." he said into her ear by twisting her head in the right way. He nuzzled her temple. He wasn't about to be coy about his intentions. He'd waited long enough. If she tried to defend herself, which she would, he'd collect her wrists whenever her hands uselessly batted at him, so he could keep and cross them and above her head, pressed against the door. Because if she didn't try to hit him, there'd be nothing stopping him.
dialogue: 556463
 


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ELEANOR ANDREWS
P U B L I S H E D  A U T H O R  βͺ 32 ❫
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Elle didn't know what was happening, and a part of her didn't even want to know.

A startled breath escaped her lips when Ryan grabbed her by the jaw, his fingers digging into her delicate skin. With wide eyes, she met his gaze, confusion and fear reflecting in them. Her lips started to form the shape of an 'o', as if she was about to say 'What do you mean?' but nothing came out but another shady breath. What the hell was going on? He'd just told her he needed to talk about Jeremy, and now he was telling her that her husband was fine? That it wasn't him who was about to be ruined.

Did he mean her?

She certainly hoped not. Why would he do that? What had she ever done to him? She barely knew the guy! "W-what?" This time she did speak, although her voice was low and trembling. A shiver went through her as he tilted her head to the side, pressing his lips against her temple. She desperately tried to pull her head away, but his grip was too strong. "Stop!" she yelled, her hands pressing against his chestβ€”or was it his stomach? Whatever it was, he didn't allow her to push for long before he pinned her arms above her head, his fingers wrapped around her slender wrists.

"Ryan, please," she pleaded, panic surging through every cell in her body. She wasn't sure what he was trying to accomplish, what he was planning, but she didn't like where it was going. Elle squirmed against him, trying to break free from himβ€”she had to. There was no way she was going to allow him to touch her like this. Or at all. Only Jeremy was allowed to put his hands all over her. Ryan was not only invading her personal space but he was crossing at least a dozen lines in the process.

Why had she left her phone in the office? "He'll be home any second," she lied. She didn't need to mention his name for Ryan to know who she was referring to. "He won't be pleased." That was an understatement. If Jeremy knew he'd been touching her like this, he'd probably beat him senseless. Elle had never been a supporter of violence, but she wouldn't mind seeing Ryan on the ground right now. She truly hoped Jeremy would stop by for lunch today, that his intuition somehow told him she was in trouble. That he knew she needed his help. Because if he didn't come home. . . Ryan would have more than enough time to finish what he'd startedβ€”whatever it wasβ€”and even though he'd suffer the consequences for it later, so would she.

Elle attempted to shove him off with her knee, lifting one leg to press it against the side of his hip. "Get off!" she begged, desperation and fear itched in her voice.

dialogue: 89778c
 


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RYAN KREISLER
P O L I C Eβ€…  O F F I C E R  βͺ 34 ❫
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He liked the way she struggled. Not just against him, but against the thoughts that were permeating her small little female brain. She had lived so softly, that's why she in herself was so soft. Jeremy had protected her, kept her life cozy. There were benefits to being with a cop, after all, and Eleanor had seen all of them. But that would end today. The criminal element her husband brushed up against had finally seeped through the protection he offered. Both the law and its enemies converged in Ryan, and he could have pretty much anything he wanted from both worlds. And he wanted her, because she'd been so lovely and sparkly during the ball. He wanted to see her when she wasn't happy and shiny. He wanted to know her when she was ruined and dirty.

He inhaled when she offered delicate, vibrating breaths as he started manipulating her head. She smelled clean, like a day of being at home, when he dragged his nose against the side of her face, kept there by his iron grip on her jaw. She had such a beautiful mouth, and it was almost as though she was showing off to him how feminine and fearful it could be, as it gulped and gasped. It was like the thought of what he was doing alone was physically hurting her. Oh, she was in for quite a lot of surprises if this much could shake her up. Her weak hands were only fitted for typing on keys, so they did nothing but encourage when she pushed them against him. He chuckled when she yelled.

Soon she was just there, like a doll, against the door for him. Her wrists were crossed over her head and if he lifted her little by them she'd have a hard time engaging her legs, too. He groaned when she bent one around him and fidgeted. He sighed with some nostalgia when she mentioned her husband. "Is that what you want? You think things will turn out well if Jerry comes home?" he asked and turned her head both directions again, once more just looking at her like she was an object. Pretty though. He let go of her jaw and pulled his jacket to the side. With the leather lifted she'd see the harness that kept a gun pressed in a low profile holster against his rib. "Or maybe we'll be a little more medieval about it?" he suggested and tugged his jacket another way, showing a sheath on the other side where the rubberized handle of a knife stuck out. He was prolific in using it, and people liked to pay extra for him to make a statement with it.

"Now," he started, casual despite the ever present malice in his eyes. He pulled at the neckline of her shirt until it started tearing. He did it slow, like it was paper, until her sweater had indeed become an opened cardigan. He wanted to know what Elle wore underneath. "Let's see if we can't get to know each other a little better. I think I'm harboring a crush on you, Ella." he said, dark voice perfectly poised. His palm pushed against her diaphragm and slid fingers downward until they slithered in between her stomach and the elastic band of the waist of her sweatpants. All he did was with ease, and it'd feel like a vicegrip on her. Like he could crush her by accident. Like her bones were hollow. "When I'm done with you," he whispered wetly in her ear, clearly taking his time to drag out the words to mock her. "You'll be fucked so hard you won't even remember your own name, let alone your husband." All the while his fingers had crept to cup her cunt, outside of her panties.


dialogue: 556463
 


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ELEANOR ANDREWS
P U B L I S H E D  A U T H O R  βͺ 32 ❫
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Perhaps it was best if Jeremy didn't come home. Because at this point, Elle wasn't sure what would happen if he did. Her eyes widened again when Ryan flicked his jacket open to show off his gun and knife. He did not attempt to grab either of themβ€”thank Godβ€”but that didn't calm her nerves. Elle had a feeling he was skilled with both. She could only pray that he wouldn't practice his skills on her. Dying wasn't exactly on her bucket list these days. Not yet, at least. And she sure as hell didn't want her husband to die. "He won't come," she said, more to herself than to him. Her husband better stay far away until Ryan was long gone. Whatever Ryan was planning, she could only hope it wouldn't last very long. But she had a feeling he was going to rape her. . . But if that were the case, Elle would make sure it was the last thing he did as a free man. She would never let him into their home ever again after this. In fact, she would make sure he wouldn't be able to set foot in anyone's home after thisβ€”not even his own. He would be arrested for sexual assault.

Unless she got herself killed first, of course.
She tried not to think too much about that possibility.

Elle could only watch and listen as he ripped her sweater in two. It hadn't been expensive or anything, but it was one of her favorites. The fabric dug into her neck, almost slicing her skin open, while he pulled the neckline down in the front until it eventually ripped. She'd never been more grateful for wearing a bra. It wasn't really that fancy, just a black lace one that she'd owned for years. It didn't give her the best lift, but it gave her a little bit of coverage. "It's Elle," she snapped at him. No one had called her Ella since kindergarten, and she was not a fan of the name. It sounded childish.

She inhaled sharply when his fingers reached the waistband of her sweatpants after traveling down her bare stomach. Her eyes met his, realization dawning in them. "Don't." His next move was obvious, but he wouldn't fucking dare. He had no right to stick his hand into her pants, let alone between her legs. "Stop!" she cried the moment she felt his fingers sneak under the elastic. This was not happening. Elle fought against him while he whispered words no woman would want to hearβ€”especially not in the safety of their homeβ€”into her ear. His palm suddenly cupped her pussy and she squirmed under his weight, as if that would somehow make his hand go away. At least her panties were preventing his fingers from discovering how smooth she was.

Whimpering in fear and humiliation, she continued her attempts to break free from him. "I swear to God, Ryan," she began, her voice low and trembling but her tone ever so sharp. "If you don't remove your hand right fucking now, I'm gonna make sure you never lay a hand on a woman ever again." It should serve as a serious threat, even though she was in no position to voice any. But what she meant to imply was that he wouldn't be able to fuckβ€”or touchβ€”anyone in a very, very long time.

But right now, Elle was more worried about herself and her pussy. He'd said he was going to fuck her so hard. . . so hard she wouldn't remember her name, or Jeremy's, but what if she made sure he got caught before that? All she needed was her phone. Or a chance to run. Hell, even hiding could work. She just had to break free from him first. And that turned out to be a lot harder than she'd first anticipated.

dialogue: 89778c
 


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RYAN KREISLER
P O L I C Eβ€…  O F F I C E R  βͺ 34 ❫
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He won't come. Like that was her decision, her submission. Like Ryan had made it clear to her that destruction was all that would wait for her hubby if he should return, and she had magicked his absence into being with her words. It meant that she knew how dangerous Ryan was, how combustible this situation had become in so little time. It was exciting, of course. It was this kind of thing that had motivated the otherwise uncaring cop and resource man to make the trip out of his way. There were cheaper thrills to chase on your lunchbreak. But he wanted this. He'd thought about this while being balls deep in other women.

And so far Eleanor did not disappoint. She squirmed because she didn't want to, but it only enticed him more. Her hands were nulled, when he held them by one of his over her crossed wrists. Ella wasn't strong. But she was pretty as she tried to be. But her façade was peeling fast. He snickered as he looked at her, hung up on her own door. Even her struggle and hatred was beautiful. An ornament in the hall of her home. A welcoming present for her marauder. "That's right, darling. He won't come. Not in time. Not for you."

She ripped really well too. He liked the sound of it, and was transfixed as the fabric opened and the little fibers came off the growing tear like dust. He groaned at the show of her bra. It showcased the natural hold of her tits nicely. He liked that. An honest garment. So this was what she'd been hiding under that dress. He nuzzled her ear when she tried to correct him, and squeezed her wrist a bit harder to remind her of her situation. "Ellah." he breathed. She was trying to assert herself when there was no ground for her to gain. He'd already won. All she could do now with her meager resistance was to entertain him.

She exploded into reluctance and lovely turns when he went inside the waistband. He knew the shape of her womanhood through her underwear and she was horrified to be found out. Such delicious modesty. Her words got fiercer, which meant her act got cuter just as he slid his finger between her labia, feeding her pussy the fabric of her panties. "You mean this hand?" he asked, and easily fiddled her panty crotch to the side to finally lay three fingers over her uncovered cunt. Ryan gasped to learn she was so neatly shaven. "Oh, you're a little whore, aren't you, Ella?" he teased as wasted no time parting those lips with the outer two fingers so the middle one could stroke down the center, riding and mashing the folds found in there. All the while he was staring at her face. Finally he got to touch her married pussy.

"Does he touch you like this? Does he make your heart race this fast?" he asked her so she could ask herself that while his finger was massaging her entrance, and then pulling up slightly to circle the hood of her clit.

dialogue: 556463
 


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ELEANOR ANDREWS
P U B L I S H E D  A U T H O R  βͺ 32 ❫
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Elle was torn. One part of her wanted Jeremy to stay far, far, far away so Ryan couldn't hurt him. The other part desperately wanted Jeremy to be her knight in shining armor. It didn't really have to be Jeremy who rescued her, it could be anyone. Or anyone who would be able to take on Ryan. She didn't want anyone to get hurt because of her. Not that Elle was thrilled to take a hit, but she could suffer a little bit if it meant others were safe.

She'd never been particularly shy about her breasts, but when Ryan's gaze fell on them she couldn't help but wish they were at least one size bigger. Jeremy had never complainedβ€”they fit nicely in his palmsβ€”but she knew they were rather small. "Elle," she corrected him once more when he continued to say her name wrong. At least now she knew he did it on purpose. Not that it made it any less frustrating. Jeremy sometimes called her Ellie, but other than that, she preferred Elle. She'd never really used her full nameβ€”or liked itβ€”and no one really called her by that name either.

"Yes!" she hissed when he mocked her. What other hand could she possibly be referring to? She squirmed against him, trying to move her hips so he couldn't access her pussy, only to whimper when she felt his fingers against her bare skin. "Please, stop," she pleaded, her voice low. She desperately tried to free her wrists, a helpless groan escaping her when it didn't work. Her hips continued to wiggle side to side in an attempt to escape his fingers, but it had the opposite effect. All it did was apply friction, andβ€”

Elle whimpered softly at the sensation. Her face flushed in embarrassment. She blew out a shallow breath, trying to calm herself. Trying to convince herself that this wasn't good. That she wasn't supposed to like this. That what she felt in her core wasn't arousal. But his fingers didn't exactly hurt. No, they felt fucking good. And Elle couldn't fight her body's natural responses. She couldn't stop her body from producing. . . juice. Her body couldn't tell the difference between Ryan's fingers and Jeremy'sβ€”it just wanted more. The way he traced his fingers up and down her slit, massaging her entrance, only to start teasing her clit. She stifled another moan. Her cheeks burned, and she couldn't look at him. "You need to stop," she breathed. Not because it hurtβ€”it truly didn'tβ€”but because she was enjoying this far more than she should. And God knew she hated herself for it.
dialogue: 79607d
 


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RYAN KREISLER
P O L I C Eβ€…  O F F I C E R  βͺ 34 ❫
β•šβ•                                                ═╝


He quite liked her breasts. They were real and they were beckoning to be played with. It was just like her personality, a bit modest, with great potential for fun. He grinned when she tried to get him to say her name right again. She had so little control over this, so she tried to exert what she could. But right now her breasts weren't the main attraction. Her body knew it to, the way she squirmed. It didn't stop him. Not when he had full access and she gave him all those pretty reactions. He was transfixed on her face as his fingers explored and violated her cunt. For a short moment he felt her hands pull, but that did precious little for either of them, other than to underline her desperate disadvantage. She really had just been reduced to a very light toy in his handling. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

His teeth came out in beastly glee when she started other noises. She had immediate new responses to his touching. That was right. Faithful wife and all around good person or not, she was still a redblooded woman with a natural pussy on her. Jeremy had some virtues, but fucking his wife hard couldn't possibly be one of them. And that in itself was a sin, wasn't it? It certainly would be punished, today. She tried to think of other things, and tried not to feel it, but as good as Ryan was with that gun and knife, he fancied himself better with his hands on women. When he wanted to. Those touches could be rather unpleasant too; Ella was going to learn all sides of it. He would make her perverted enough she wouldn't know which she preferred. Her moans were pushing at her lungs and the distress pinching her brows looked a lot like expressions of reluctant pleasure, too.

"Is that what you need, though, Ella?" he asked intimately in her ear. "You're soaking." he said. And he had found welcoming lubricants inside her. Her biology was calling out for him to finally fuck her in a way she genetically wanted to, but couldn't get from her gentle lover. Mercilessly, he inserted a finger into her pussy, sliding it in and out, knuckle deep, and enjoying the welcoming juices. "Does Jeremy get you this riled up?" he asked the blushing wife of his colleague. He even offered her a second finger, plunging in to stretch her pink and waiting crevice. Not a moment inside her home and he already had her cunt salivating for him. He continued to just roughly finger her for a while, listening to her noises, as they escalated, before he finally tossed her onto the floor of her own hall.

And as she was on her stomach, likely going to try to get up on all her fours, he drew his gun and slathered the trigger with her juices as he bent down, put his hand on her lower back to make her arch and point her ass up, and put the gun to the back of her head. "Bow your head to the floor, pet." he hissed. He slapped her ass once after letting go of her back, and then she'd hear the metal clanks of his buckle being undone behind her, and the zipper being drawn down. His cock flopped out, darker than the rest of him, and rock hard already. It was a heavy thing with a purple head, and sickly veins adorning its length. It was a bit unfair that he'd been dealt the impressive flesh weapon alongside his well-built body, but there was a reason Ryan was confident. "I'm going to break you in, little puppy. And I'm pretty sure you're going to like it." he slapped her ass again, and his cock clapped on the other cheek.


dialogue: 556463
 


a5cb52f4afa1e97a1e56d3856f4ce5325fd9164d.pnj

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ELEANOR ANDREWS
P U B L I S H E D  A U T H O R  βͺ 32 ❫
β•šβ•                                                          ═╝


Elle didn't know what she needed, but it was not this. She couldn't stop her body from reacting; it wasn't her fault that she was wet. If it was up to her, she'd be as dry as a desert right now. But that's not how the female body worked. "No, I'm nβ€”ahh!" The rest of her sentence was replaced with a loud moan as his finger slid into her with such ease that her protest wouldn't have made any difference. She didn't want to be wet, but she was, indeed, fucking soaked. She whimpered softly, trying her best to hide the pleasure from her expressionβ€”it looked more like she was grimacing. "No," she gritted out. But he hadn't really tried either. Jeremy was decent in bedβ€”occasionally goodβ€”but he didn't really care much about foreplay. And he sure as hell had never gotten her this wet, this fast. No one had.

She couldn't muffle her sounds when he added a second finger, stretching her oh-so-good. "Mmgh." Without meaning to, she thrust her hips forward, helping him bury those fingers even deeper. She was struggling to be quiet, struggling to hide the fact that she was enjoying herself. "Please stop," she pleaded, her body squirming against the door. But did she really want him to? No. . . Her body seemed to love it, and no matter how hard she tried to convince herself that she hated it, there was a part of her that didn't. Her hips continued to move as if they had teamed up with him, following his fingers' movements. "You can'tβ€”" A moan escaped her lips, "Do this."

A startled cry filled the hallway, followed by a painful groan. One moment she was pinned against the door, moaning in pleasure; the next she was on the floor, moaning in pain. She hadn't really expected him to stop fingering her, but if this was the alternative, she'd rather have his fingers buried deep in her cunt. Elle fumbled on the floor, pushing herself up on all fours, only to have his hand push her chest down again. "Ryan," she pleaded, panicking as she felt her pants being pulled down, and the muzzle of the gun brushing against her folds.

With her chest almost to the floor and her arms supporting her, she tried to twist her neck to see what he was doing behind her, but the angle was all wrong. She let out another cry when he slapped her assβ€”not because it was that hard, but because it startled her. She heard him unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants shortly after, and a shiver went down her spine. Elle lifted herself up slightly, so she could turn her neck enough to look at him. Her eyes widened when they landed on his massive cock. There was no way she was letting him put that into her. And not because it would be cheating, but because he was way too big. He wouldn't fit. Not in her tight cunt, and most certainly not in her tiny, virgin asshole.

Elle was not a fucking puppy; she wouldn't like to be treated like one. "I don't think so," she hissed, her voice trembling. She wasn't going to stick around to find out which hole he was planning on penetrating first. No, the second she felt his cock against her skin, she started crawlingβ€”or she tried. With her pants around her thighs, and on all fours, it was hard to move forward. Perhaps it would have been easier if she attempted to stand up.

And so she attempted to do so.
dialogue: 79607d
 


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RYAN KREISLER
P O L I C Eβ€…  O F F I C E R  βͺ 34 ❫
β•šβ•                                                ═╝


He was overly confident about his skills with his fingers. The fingers themselves had a farther reach than most people, since they were proportional to his height. And being used to taken what he wanted, he was good at pushing his own agenda, even when it was someone else's body. But he hadn't been counting on Ella being this sensitive. She was absolutely compatible with what he planned to do to her. The way she almost instantly melted as soon as he touched her told her secret; it wasn't just the physical contact to her erogenous slit, but rather the entire ordeal that was speaking to the feminine sensitivities in her. He had been so sure Ella would be the type, but it seemed she was even more so than he'd hoped. It made the dark figure that had invaded her house grin widely. Her little protests cut with her honest moans were enticing his beastly proclivities further. He was going to teach being married didn't protect her. Could be she'd never been properly fucked in her entire life.

When he let her have the second finger her tiny hole sucked him in, celebrating the added mass as the digits curled in her and massaged the sensitive area, pushing outward toward her pelvis. The wife of his colleague was such a hospitable woman, with such eager crevices. She had a large mouth, and it wouldn't keep her modesty worth a damn. She had confessions in her refusals. It flooded his blood with adrenaline and malice. She was siren calling him with her short, breathed lies, and it made his fingers more eager.

But he threw her all the same, and grunted when she landed, bared ass facing him. It shot a jolt of electricity from his stomach to the tip of his hard cock, petitioning to tear his pants. Her little cry was lovely, but he would make her make worse noises before he was done. She still had to nibble his gun with her body, and when she looked back at him over her shoulder, her pose and exposure and that terrified expression had him produce a fat drop of precum.

"Not the proportions you're used to, Ella?" He asked, proud. He threw his head back and laughed at her hall ceiling, filling the space with his mire, when she tried to crawl away. The woman who should know she was not safe in her own home by now would feel a lasso of leather close around her throat when he looped his belt to catch her. Controlling her with the makeshift Calvin Klein leash, he pulled back to keep her in place, and even dragged harder to make her ass meet his cock. Her heat affecting his cock was excruciating.

The gun back in its holster, he had his other hand free to spank her once again, harder this time. He grabbed onto a buttock and the thumb pulled it to the side so he could look at her slavering, married cunt, and her infinitesimal anus. His jaws ground up the sound he made at the treasures waiting for him.

He pushed his hips forward, testing his cock between her thighs, the upside of the girthy member sawing up against her slathered slit, borrowing moisture. "You're fucking soaked." He praised. But the dark head ended up against her pucker, aimed and eager. When he pulled the leash she'd choke or follow it back. His hand held her waist firmly as he started threading her asshole over the bulb of his dick. This was turning out even better than he'd hoped.

"Shhhh little bitch pup." He cooed darkly as he strained for her tightness, waiting for that decimal to yawn and let him pop the head into her. "Bet Jeremy never taught you this trick." He muttered as he looked down at the unfolding intrusion.

dialogue: 556463
 


a5cb52f4afa1e97a1e56d3856f4ce5325fd9164d.pnj

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ELEANOR ANDREWS
P U B L I S H E D  A U T H O R  βͺ 32 ❫
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Not the proportions she was used to at all. Not that Jeremy was small, but he was average at best. It was still a good stretch when he fucked her. But Ryan's cock was longer, and so much thicker. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd fit in any woman at all. Perhaps she was just too tight? It didn't really matter, because she wasn't going to let him fuck her. Elle refused to be raped in her own home.

But Ryan had other plans.

She'd barely straightened her back when she felt something go over her head and tighten around her throat. Her hands automatically shot up, panic rising as her fingers wrapped around his belt. He pulled her back, forcing her body to move whether she wanted it to or not. Still trying to loosen the nooze around her neck so it wouldn't choke her, she felt his large cock against her butt cheeks.

Elle desperately tried to get away from him, but when she tried to move forward, the belt around her neck only tightened. She choked on a breath, then gasped when he slapped her ass once more, her body not at all familiar with that kind of painβ€”or pleasure. "Please," she pleaded, feeling the panic grow as he slid his cock between her legs. He wasn't wrong either; Elle was soaked. She had no idea why, because she didn't enjoy this at all.

And just when she thought it couldn't get worse, her panic spiked. Dread filled every cell in her body, and she cried out. "No!" Elle squirmed, wriggling her hips in an attempt to get away from his massive cock. He was pushing his thick head against her tiny asshole, and that was not where it was supposed to go. She didn't want it to go anywhere, but least of all there. "Not there, please!" Elle was desperate to get away, to escape, but the belt around her neck made it impossible. Not that his hands on her hips made it easy for her either.

She could feel his cock pressing against her ass, threating to enter her sacred place. "Don'tβ€”ahnghh!" A painful cry slipped past her lips when his enlarged head started stretching her tiny hole. "No, no, no, take it out!" she gasped, choking on air as pain erupted from her tight muscles. But Ryan just kept on pressing, her hips wriggling under his palms. "Stop!" Her eyes were glittering with tears now, but whether it was because of the pain or the situation itself, she didn't know. She whimpered loudly, gasping at the sharp pain as his cock stretchedg her too wide. It kept stretching and stretching until his head suddenly popped into place, giving her a brief sensation of relief. "Stop! Just stop!" she cried, her fingers clawing at the belt around her neck. She had to break free before he had the chance to bury his cock even deeper.

So, she pulled at the beltβ€”tried at leastβ€”and leaned her upper body forward, trying not to choke herself in the process. At some point, he had to let it go. . . right?
dialogue: 79607d
 


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RYAN KREISLER
P O L I C Eβ€…  O F F I C E R  βͺ 34 ❫
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It was a successful catch. She had pretty much been still for it, because even if a lot of people ended up fleeing on their hands and knees, it was never the most effective way. It kept his cock hard for her. New to all this, she didn't know to give in right away, when she felt the hug of the leather around her neck, but pulled at it. She was worlds apart from the smiling, happy woman Jeremy had a picture of on his desk. Ryan tested the hold of the belt, and it responded better to him than her clawing fingers. There was something about this position, when her ass was toward him and he could control her elevation off the floor with a simple tug, that made him feel like a fucking god.

Her pleas were pretty. She wasn't so tough or impolite any more. The head nuzzled between her asscheeks, that were tight but weak, and let the bulb of his cock collide with her last hole. Her fighting picked up a notch when she knew his intent. His cock had vibrated with excitement when it borrowed moisture from the plentiful source of her pussy. This housewife was fucking perverted, and she didn't even know it. He swallowed when she continued her begging, like there was any chance he'd back out now. Her ass was reluctant, but they all were in the beginning. And then he saw it, looked down as her anus stretched pale from the budding invasion. He groaned when it opened to swallow the mushroom tip of his dick. Knowing he'd taken a virginity from her made him almost cum in her right then and there.

But he pulled at the belt instead, when she tried to lean forward. She had nowhere else to go. The hand on her hips slid down her front, and curled around to cup her pussy. He stuck two fingers into her and scooped out a big helping of her very telling fluid. He pulled her up further with the belt, so he could hold up the wealth of glittering evidence to her face. "You know what this means, don't you?" he asked and then shouldered her forward again, stopping her from planting her face on the floor with a tug on the makeshift leash. He hissed with pleasure as the lubricate hand started stroking and circling the part of his cock still not inside her ass.

When he pushed next, again with his hand on her waist to keep her ass angled up, the lube from her pussy would help. He even let a thick glob of spit fall from his lip to crash down on his length, closest to her sphincter, as it was made to eat him. "You gotta be a good little pet," he told her. "And you're not really fooling anyone, are you? Your pussy's drowning already," he mocked her. At least that part was true. He sighed when he'd gotten three quarters in, and started pulling out, the slippery coat on his cock now smearing all over her newly introduced little pucker. He was soon pushing inward again, never letting her have some slack on her leash. He was building a careful but ever rising pace in her shithole.

"Never been fucked in the hall of your own house, Ella?" he said, awfully calm for a man who was doing what he was doing. Fuck was she tight.

dialogue: 556463
 
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