The assassin and the church-mouse [MF, fingering, dubcon, bondage], short story

The rope tying her to the chair around her wrists and ankles is firm and unyielding but not so restrictive as to hurt her, or cut off her circulation. She had expected brutality and a lack of care, but he’d surprised her. This was a good sign, small as it may be, and she hoped he might continue to do so as it would increase the odds of her leaving this situation alive and unharmed. The building he’d taken her to looked like an abandoned warehouse, and she’d been firmly pulled through a maze of small back rooms and narrow hallways before they ended up in this small room, lit by one bright lamp, leaving the corners of the room in shadow. The light was centered over her chair, and she felt its heat rather keenly in the otherwise cold building.

He was near the door now, paying attention to the phone in his hands. Those hands were strong, she knew. She’d fought him the entire way, tried to get away but never had his grip slipped. He hadn’t hurt her either, despite her attempts to hurt him. He sported a short welt near his right eye, where she’d gotten lucky enough to scratch him on one attempt. He hadn’t punished her for that in any way, merely secured her hands and kept going. A silent sigh escaped him and he put his phone down and looked up at her.

He was an unassuming looking man, which was probably an advantage. He was of average height, with a somewhat chiseled face and short, light hair. He looked fit, but not overly muscular and his dark suit was likely tailored, since it fit him well.

“I’ll find him with or without your cooperation, but you can make this easier on yourself. Tell me where Jonas was planning on going, and I’ll let you go.” She continued watching him, and replied with some small amount of fear, “I won’t tell you. I can’t let you kill him. He came to us for help, and I’ve sworn to do that to the best of my ability.”

He huffed out a breath and quirked the barest of rueful smiles for a second. Then his face smoothed over and he walked towards her the few steps necessary, and circled around behind her chair. One callused hand trailed across her shoulder, tapped the hood of her habit briefly, then moved across the back of the chair.

“This causes a dilemma. I have no wish to hurt you – you’re not my target. But I need that info. So we can do this the hard way, or the easy way. And you, my lady…” He paused and raised his hand again as he came forward to stand in front of her, brushing her cheekbone as he did so. “You will probably prefer the easy way. As a matter of fact, I think I’d prefer it, too.”

She felt the barest frisson of excitement as he touched her, but she put it down to fear. Being alone and at the mercy of a strange man capable of great acts of evil was definitely enough to put one on red alert. The man was a killer, a hired assassin after a young man who’d come to her church for help. They hadn’t had time to alert the police before they’d had to flee.

Nearly cornered, she’d had to beg Jonas to leave her behind so that she might stall the man trying to kill him. She had thought she’d die there, but instead had been taken so she might tell the assassin where to find Jonas. The reminder made her flinch away from his hand. She swallowed roughly to try to wet her dry throat, and began speaking again, wanting to appeal to any sense of humanity he might have.

“You don’t have to kill people. You can save yourself. God still loves you and he will forgive you, if you ask. Please, you can choose to stop”.

He tilted his head at her, studying her face. The hand on her cheek stilled. “If I believed in a god, my lady, I’d still neither stop nor ask for forgiveness. This is my job, and they always say you should do what you love.“ He slid his thumb, then over her lower lip. “That being said, I don’t have to kill you.” The nun stiffened in her chair, now certain of what he might want to do to her, and it made her afraid.

“You don’t want to do that to me. I don’t consent.” He grinned in response. “You will.” He slid a hand up over her head and she felt the habit catch, then slip off her head. His other hand gently tugged at the bun she’d put her hair up in that morning, and released the long strands of black hair. He ran his fingers through it to untangle it, scratching slightly at her scalp. Though she didn’t want to acknowledge it, it felt good. More than good. Tingles worked their way down her spine. She’d never felt that particular sensation before. Years ago, before she’d decided to become a nun, her experiences with boys were quick, fleeting things and not at all what she’d been told by her friends to expect. She assumed it wasn’t anything she’d miss when she decided to swear off that pleasure. She’d been young when she joined, and would still be considered fairly young, even now.

She continued sitting as straight as possible, tense and unwilling to relax in the slightest. If she projected that she was wasn’t enjoying anything and was unwilling, it seemed there could be a chance he’d stop. He’d said he didn’t want to hurt her, after all.

Her hair was brushed behind her ears, and she closed her eyes tightly as a finger trailed over the shell of her ear, the nail scraping the lobe, and trailing down her neck. She shivered involuntarily. She tensed a bit more and resolved not to react, though she was afraid of how good just that little contact felt. She wanted to bare her neck, and she wanted more. In spite of herself, she tilted her head down, trying to deny the assassin’s fingers and his intentions. Rather than pull her head up or force the issue, his hands instead carded again through her hair, grazing her scalp, once more sending those delicious fissions down her neck. She whimpered slightly, bit her lip and shook her head, trying to dislodge his hand.

“Stop. Just stop. You can walk away from this”, she pleaded. The assassin grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head firmly but not painfully back, baring her neck.

“Tell me where Jonas went. Even if you don’t, I still want payment for this mission. Jonas, or yourself, oh lady of the cloth. It’s going to be one or the other.” With that, he bent over her, his mouth coming down quickly to nip and lick the side of her neck. She froze for a second at the sensation, a sort of pleasure she’d never experienced before, until the very nature of his act, and the sheer power he held over her prompted her to thrash as well as she could in her bonds.

It wasn’t much. He tied a firm knot and with her wrists and ankles firmly held to the chair, which was quite heavy by itself, she barely managed to move inches from him, and his lips were steadily working on her neck the while. She whimpered loudly, moaned as his teeth found the nape of her neck, and colored brightly, ashamed of herself. Zeroing in on the sensitive spot, the assassin swirled his tongue around the back of her neck, causing the nun to lean back, and even relax, her toes curling slightly in her shoes. He stopped and she whined a protest, the noise causing her to come back to herself. Another small noise escaped her, shocked at how she could so easily abandon her sensibilities. She leaned away as far as she could, almost doubled over. The assassin was not one to give up, and he knelt beside her chair, his mouth moving back to her ear. Rather than so overtly tease her again, he allowed his lips to brush her ear as he asked in a low tone,

“Did you like that?”

His hot breath on the sensitive shell of her ear made her shiver involuntarily. She had no wish to lie, but didn’t want to encourage him either, so she compromised and remained silent. There was a moment of silence as he waited, but it seemed he was not a patient man. His voice broke the impasse. “Tell me if you enjoyed that, or I’ll leave you here and go after Jonas right now.” Suddenly she was angry.

“Don’t manipulate me like that! If you could have found him you’d have no need of me!” She straightened and turned on him, glaring. He only chuckled at her, and brushed a wayward strand of hair from her face.

“Oh, I could definitely find him if you were to tell me where. But if I leave now, I can probably find the clues necessary to track him myself. Might take a few hours, a day maybe, but I’d find him.” He stood fully and paced behind her. When he spoke next, he was inches from her other ear and his voice was low and inexplicably sexy.

“Or you could continue to stall me here. You’re much more entertaining. So beautiful when you’re angry.” She was too mortified, and too suddenly hot to react to his words. She felt her cheeks heat up as they went red and bowed her head, unused to such praise.

She considered. She could sacrifice herself, and buy the boy more time. Or she could take the easy way out and set the wolf loose on his trail. Her resolve hardened, and she felt that treacherous area between her legs tremble. She resolved to ignore it, and persevere. For the boy. She felt shame as she lifted her head, and told the assassin, “I liked it.”

He trailed one blunt finger down her cheek, and replied, “I know you did. But will you let yourself accept that you want this? You’re telling yourself this is to be endured on behalf of the fool I’m after. I wonder if I can change your mind.”

“Never, this is sin”, she said haughtily. The assassin only smirked and kneeled beside her chair, his hands moving her long, thick hair away from her neck and then moving down to rest on either side of her thighs. She tensed again as he leaned in towards her neck, but he stopped just short and only close enough for her to feel his breath at her neck. His right hand came back up and he trailed a finger slowly across her lower lip. Her breathing hitched and she fought the urge to pull her lip into her mouth and bite it to mute the tingling sensation the assassin provoked. It felt like she wanted him to kiss her, but that couldn’t be something she’d want or allow to happen. Distracted, she didn’t notice his head moving forward until his lips contacted her neck, his tongue flicking out to lick just below her ear, and his teeth catching her earlobe just a second later. She gasped outright this time and bared her neck, helpless to resist.

While she was preoccupied with her neck, his left hand trailed lightly across the junction of her thigh and pressed lightly on the mound between her legs. A sound that was something between a moan and a gasp escaped her and she pressed her hips upwards. He chuckled against her skin, his left continuing to travel away from her sex, down her thighs and down her shins until he could reach no further. His fingers tugged the fabric of her skirts up until they could touch skin, and moved underneath it, drawing the fabric back up with his hand as he traced her left calf and upwards still, taking advantage of her spread thighs to lightly skim the delicate skin between her legs.

She was lost in a haze of feeling she’d never experienced before in any way, waves of feeling seeming to focus at her core, and she wanted more, she wanted to reach the end of this; the climax. She shook in her bonds, the feeling of her powerlessness in great part fueling her need. She wanted and detested the despicable man touching her, making her feel. Only when she felt his hand far under her skirts did she come back to herself, sudden alarm intruding on the ecstasy. She went rigid, and gasped out,

“Nnnn, no!” She panted, trying to get herself back under control. This wasn’t the way she’d wanted to approach this situation. This wicked man had too much power over her.

The assassin only paused in his ministrations. “You, or the boy.” She clenched her eyes briefly and prayed for the strength to get through this. Opening her eyes, she glanced at the hit man who was watching her implacably. She moaned slightly in discomfort, before answering, “Me.”

“Then relax. Enjoy this. Let yourself go.” She closed her eyes tightly and shook her head, both wishing this could be over quickly, and that he would pleasure her as he said he would. It was a forbidden thought, and a thought she hated, but it persisted.

The assassins lips moved back over her pulse point and his right hand traced the shell of her ear on the other side of her head, the dual sensation masking the resumed movement of his left hand until his fingers reached her sex and trailed up the valley between the lips, stopping in one spot that made her gasp loudly and almost involuntarily arch into his touch. She realized suddenly that her panties were quite wet. She felt a flare of shame before it disappeared as he pressed once more briefly before pulling back entirely, and she groaned. He smiled at her, not a warm thing, but rather coldly before leaning in to brush his lips against hers. They tingled again and she was dazed, still wanted more. But after he stood, her world was upended as the assassin tipped her chair onto it’s back, and her with it. She shrieked and grabbed the armrests, hoping he wasn’t going to kill her. Instead, he unfastened one of her legs from the chair and retied it so that her legs were further apart. He did this for the other leg as well while she shivered and breathed unevenly, simultaneously thrilled and anxious at her new state of vulnerability. Her skirts remained fallen over her abdomen, only her cotton underwear covering her sex. She wanted to be able to close her legs to him, scared, and she also almost wanted him to spread her further. The conflict hurt her head and made her even more anxious.

She blinked into the harsh light, trying to adjust her eyes so she could see better what the hit man was doing. Looking almost bemusedly at her, he pulled a folded knife out of one pocket and casually flicked the blade open and into a locked position. She breathed harder, almost hyperventilating as he knelt beside her and moved the knife toward her abdomen.

Rather than hurting her though, he pulled her panties away from her skin and cut them off, starting at her left hip and moving to the right, then pulling the scraps away from her body, leaving her bare to his gaze. He hummed appreciatively and put the knife away as she continued to be paralyzed by fear and excitement. He bent further at the waist, his head passing by her sex as he moved up towards her face. He breathed deeply as he passed by, and then his right hand cradled her cheek as he nuzzled her with his nose.

“Sshhhh, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you. I haven’t hurt you. Relax, feel.” His hand moved to stroke her hair, and her breathing slowly evened out, though she continued to tremble. After a few moments, his hand left her head and trailed down her torso, tracing down her neck, dipping into her clavicle, tracing a bit of collarbone before brushing her breast and moving over her ribs and across her abdomen, tickling slightly but not enough to distract. His hand came to a stop just above her mound, his fingers pressing lightly, the palm resting above it. He brushed his lips over hers again and she almost responded, almost kissed him back. Then his palm was moving, pushing with slight force over her sex, the sheer pleasure of it making her try to buck up for more. He repeated the motion a few times, the action eliciting more pleasure and a slick feeling that she realized was her own arousal. She was moaning. Whimpering each time her touched her.

His face was beside hers, his attention rapt on her face, watching her expressions as he pleasured her. He switched tactics, his index and middle finger moving to massage the little button that would bring her absolute satisfaction. He found it easily and she arched into his touch as much as she was able, trying to spread her legs so he could touch more of her, have more of her. He continued for a minute, until she trembled and gasped and tossed her head, shaking on the edge of her release. Then he stopped and shifted his body, moving back a little. She whined for him, felt the edge slip away from her. He didn’t respond except to slip the same two fingers into her sex, slowly but surely.

It felt filling to her, but not so much it hurt. They fit snugly but easily, though they lacked the same pleasure she’d felt when he was playing with her clit. Then he began to move, rocking his fingers in and out of her, going as deeply as he could until his knuckles touched her skin. She gasped when she felt him touch a spot inside of her, a spot so sensitive it took her breath away and he touched it, and retreated, touched it again with a bit more force. She breathed heavily, rocking with his thrusting.

She wasn’t… She couldn’t find her release like this, not yet, but he seemed to know. He used his thumb as he rocked his fingers in and out of her to rub her clit again. It seemed like eternity, but was only seconds and she cried out her release, stars seeming to explode behind her eyelids, pleasure like she’d never felt before coursing through her.

It lasted a few moments before draining away into a sated semi-languidness that left her feeling stretched and satisfied. But she was still half-naked and tied to a chair with an assassin who’d kidnapped her… And forced her to feel. Her eyes flew open, though when she’d closed them she was not aware. He was still above her, watching her, a slight smirk visible on his face. His fingers were still inside her, but he’d ceased moving.

“I might have to tell my employer I was… Delayed, and lost the target.” A nearly out of place, intense feeling of gratitude washed over her which she tried to squash. Her body for the boy. That she’d enjoyed it would shame her greatly, soon. He’d used her. Though, he hadn’t pleasured himself, apparently. She wondered about it before squashing that too and feeling grateful the experience hadn’t been anywhere near as bad as it could have been. There was a slight feeling of loss as he withdrew from her body. She withheld a whimper and briefly closed her eyes before resuming watch on the hit man. He stood up, sucking the fingers of his right hand into his mouth for a moment, a dark and intense look passing over his features as he watched her. That was the hand he’d used on her, she noticed. And he was tasting her. Heat flashed through her again, and she tried to quell it. A moment later, he was pulling her chair gently back to its feet, one hand (his right, she noticed) pulling her skirts back to cover her modesty. She felt herself flush again as her mind went back over the events of just a few minutes ago. She felt dirtied, but also satisfied and… She wanted him to do it again. She ducked her head, hoping he couldn’t read her shame in her expression.

Something flashed in her peripheral vision, and less than a second later, the bindings on her right leg were sliced through. Her head shot up as she watched the assassin sever all bonds but her left arm. He stepped back and put the knife away again.

“You should be able to free yourself easily after I leave.” He hesitated a moment, then stepped closer again. She tensed as his hand came back up to her face. He traced her cheek and lingered on her lips, focusing on them for a second before stepping back again and saying,

“Shame we didn’t have much time. Maybe later.” And then his long strides took him out of the room. The door closed behind him and she sat stunned for a moment, almost cold, but hot at the same time because of his last words. Did she… Could she want him to come back? She refused to think about it as she worked on the knots on her remaining bond. She continued not to think about it as she left the building, but in the end she wasn’t quite certain where to go.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/3d3ocy/the_assassin_and_the_churchmouse_mf_fingering