There is someone in my house [mf] [consenting nc] [bondage] [reluc]

There is someone in my house. The back door slammed a moment ago, I heard it.

A footstep. Another. Across the kitchen beneath me, slowly, methodically. Adrenaline dumps into my system, I feel it course around my body. My naked skin prickles and my nipples stiffen. I keep listening.

Big, heavy footsteps down the hall – chunk, chunk, chunk. He’s wearing boots, maybe workman boots, maybe motorcycle. He sounds enormous. He pauses at the foot of the stairs and I hold my breath. Hold. Hold.

Chunk – his foot hits the first stair.

I whimper and pull at my restraints. They’re tight, there’s no play, nothing. I’m trapped.

Chunk, chunk. He’s still coming.

He reaches the landing and pauses again. Then a door creaks open, pause, and closes. He’s hunting. He’s hunting for me.

I simultaneously wish I could see and am grateful I can’t. I need to stay quiet, to stay still.

He’s moving down the landing; another door opens, pauses, closes. I think he’s moving quicker, he senses his prey is close. My heart is pounding and my breath is shallow. He’s going to find me, please don’t let him find me.

The door to the bathroom next door opens and then quickly slams shut. I utter a small scream. and try to press myself down into the table I’m tied face-down to, my breasts crush against the wood. I can’t move.

He’s next door. He’s three steps away from me. If he opens this door, he’ll see me. He can’t not see me. My cunt clenches.

Chunk, chunk, chunk. He’s outside my door. Panic is singing along my nerves. My heart thuds against the table, how can he not hear that drum beat?

The pause continues. And then.

Chunk, chunk, chunk. He moves on.

I release the breath I’ve been holding and a trickle of wetness runs down my leg. Maybe he got spooked, maybe he’s not looking for me. I’m shaking with relief.

A huge, strong hand closes through my hair and pulls. I gasp, and another hand wraps around my mouth. He’s here, all at once he’s here and he has me. His presence is huge and fills the room. His cock is hard and pressed against me, pinning me against the table. He presses it against me, not bothering to guide with his hands, just seeking, hunting for a hole. Not in my ass, if you have to have me, let it be my cunt. I adjust my hips and his enormous head slips an inch inside. I scream against his hand.

He pulls out a little and drives in. Pulls back and drives in further. I’m soaked and scared and desperate for him. He is relentless, every thrust is deep and fast and huge. He’s grunting and growling like an animal, this beast of a man. His weight is on top of me, crushing me down into the table as his cock plunges and pounds my cunt.

I smell him, his sweat, the leather he was wearing, the faint smell of oil on his hands. I smell myself, my sopping wetness, my sweat, the wood of the table. I feel every inch of him enter and leave, over and again, his grip on my hair, his weight on my body.

He’s speeding up, getting close. The final violation; to leave something inside me, to mark his territory. I clench hard, trying to expel him and he buries himself entirely within me. Throbbing, pulsing, roaring, biting, his climax seems to last minutes, hours.

He is still for a moment, breathing heavily. He releases my hair, uncovers my mouth. He stands and pulls back, his fullness leaving me feeling empty.

He turns and slowly walks out of the room without a second glance at me. I am used, spent, claimed. He has no further need for me.

He stands outside the door and I hear the soft noises of him dressing. I’m trembling, dripping, gasping. My cunt is on fire but from pain or desire I can’t tell. His cum is leaking out of me, running down my leg. I feel completely exposed; an open used hole in the middle of a room.

And I want more. I want to cum. I need to cum, I need him to make me cum.

I squirm and whimper on the table, trying to get his attention. Trying to tempt him back for more.

Still he dresses.

“Please” – it’s no more than a whisper. No answer.

“Please” – louder, no answer.

He sets off down the landing, those slow confident footsteps deep and booming again.

“Please” I call out louder. I try to angle my clit to press against the table.

“Please… sir” Chunk, chunk. I can’t get it, I can’t get the angle. I moan in frustration.

“Please… more! More please!” I shout.

The back door slams shut.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/eca0cj/there_is_someone_in_my_house_mf_consenting_nc