Secret window into his soul

He sat her on the edge of his bed, and he pulled off his shirt. She stood and helped him pull it off, rubbing his shoulders and twining her fingers in his soft, slightly unruly hair as she kissed him.

He untied the bathrobe she’d thrown on after the shower and ran his hands over her shoulders and down her arms, effectively brushing the robe to the ground. She shivered and opened her eyes, which had slipped closed as they kissed.

He noticed the purple bruises on the insides of her arms and wrists, from where Shooter had pinned her to tree and floor. Mort lifted her arms and kissed the bruises, his eyes never leaving hers. He looked almost ready to cry, and she pulled away.

“Mort, I’m sorry, but I don’t want pity sex, and I’m not trying to make you guilty.” She said. He stifled a grin.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” He said, reaching out to her.

“That’s the problem!” She yelled and stalked out of the room, down the stairs, and into her own room, where she slammed the door. Mort winced at the harsh noise, then walked to his door, closed it, and started heading back to his bed. He stopped and retrieved the still-warm robe from his floor and pulled it with him into bed. He fell asleep with her scent surrounding him.



Cassie, on the other hand, lay naked under the covers of her bed, crying her heart out for some reason she couldn’t claim to comprehend. When her eyes had run dry, and her cheeks had turned cold from the residual tear tracks, she lay awake for a long time, thinking about her day. It all seemed surreal, like some sort of bad soap opera. She really liked Mort, but he was weak. Shooter was powerful, and confident, and just as good looking… and was she crushing on the bad attitude side of a bipolar serial killer? And why did the cornstalks keep flashing into her head?

Somehow, amidst the chaotic thoughts in her mind, she fell asleep and dreamt of being tied to a stake, dried corn stalks at her feet while Shooter fingered her, setting her ablaze with the fire of sin. She woke up in a cold sweat and had to have air, real air, not this stuffy, stuck in the house kind of air. She slid on a summer dress and began walking around the lake, just to relieve her nerves. So she was trapped in a house with a sexy mad man for three more days. She could handle that, couldn’t she? So far all Shooter had done was rough her up a bit and rape her, he hadn’t been violent otherwise, he hadn’t threatened to kill her…

“Chu doin’ up so early?” Shooter asked, standing under that tree again.

“Just needed some air.” She said, proud how little her voice shook, even though the air in her lungs felt like it had been turned to ice.

“You ain’t sore or nothin’ after last night, are ya?”

“Sore? A-a little.” She didn’t want to know why he was asking, did she?

“Good, cause then we’ve got plenty a time to finish what we started.” He said, taking her by the hand and turning to guide her back under the tree. When she didn’t follow right away, he turned to look at her.

“Now don’t make me do nothin’ I’ll have to regret later.” He said, pulling her towards the tree again. This time she followed.

“Good girl.” He praised her. “Now, who am I?” He asked.

“S-Shooter?” she answered, playing meek like she did when her mother was PMSing.

“Yep, but more than that, for today, I am Master. D’you understand?”

“Yes.” She whispered, her head bowed and lips suddenly dry.

“Yes what?” He prodded, grabbing the hair on the back of her head close to her scalp and forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Yes… master?” She asked, and he saw the dark cloud in her eyes that could only be one of two things: hate… or lust. Either way, it excited him.

“Good girl. Now,” he said, pushing her to her knees. “Please your master.”

She saw the pajama pants tenting around his crotch and knew what she was expected to do, but she wasn’t sure. She’d never touched a man before, much less sucked one off.

Still, who knew what he’d do if she didn’t?

She pulled the elastic waistband down and gasped when his erection came out to greet her. How the hell was that supposed to fit in her mouth? She blew out a breath of air, and it twitched in the sudden draft of warmth. She moved her hand up to the head and slightly behind before grabbing hold of it and squeezing gently. Shooter thrust into her hand, so that the side of her pinky met his lower stomach. She ducked her head in and tasted the tip, his precum already oozing out. Not bad, she reflected, sucking the head of his shaft into her mouth. He thrust forward into her mouth, and she lost her grip on his cock, grabbing onto his thighs instead to steady herself.

She ran her tongue up and down his length, teasing him, and he grabbed tighter onto the back of her head, pulling her hair and tipping her head slightly more skywards, so he could see her better. She began bobbing on his cock, pulling it rapidly in and out of her mouth, moving until she was completely soaked. He grabbed her head and forced himself down her throat and she gagged, panicking and fighting for air. He withdrew.

“Lay down, bitch.” He said, his breathing ragged.

“Yes master.” She said, laying on her back, her knees bent and spread slightly. She wasn’t quite sure why she was acting like a wanton hussy… possibly the unresolved sexual tension from earlier was at fault. He lifted her dress.

“No underwear, no buttons, you’re just askin’ for attention, ain’t ya?”

“Yes master, please give me your attention.” She said in between panting for air.

He obliged, burying himself hilt deep in her young pussy. She let out a soft scream and dug her nails into his forearms, tossing her head at the strange feelings of discomfort and need. She bucked her hips up at him, and he growled at her.

“Don’t move now, you hear?” And he pulled out of her and slapped back in. She hated this. She felt so dirty and used, and also so wild, and wanted, and she needed more.

“Master, please…” she begged, and he sped up, his thrusts hitting her deeper in. He lifted one leg, then the other, hitching her knees over his shoulders so he could get different angles in there. She hissed as his thrusting became more and more erratic, and he bent forward and took her nipple in his mouth. She moaned and ran her hands across the backs of his shoulders, scratching him softly. Hit bit down on her nipple, hard, and she came, her vaginal walls contracting around him. He licked the abused nipple and continued thrusting through her orgasm, relishing her tightness.

“Master…” she moaned, and that was all he needed. He came within her, his seed pouring out and filling her with liquid warmth. She lay there, completely still, while he withdrew and cleaned himself up, Then walked away without a backward glance. She looked to the east, and saw the first rays of sunlight hiding behind the trees. She pulled off her sullied dress and slid into the lake, pulling the dress with her. She rinsed all of the yuck off of it and hoped it didn’t stain. It would cause awkward questions with her mom. Then she cleaned herself up and climbed ashore and back into the house before any fishermen could come out and see her nudity.





A/N: Ha! I updated! Please don't get pissed and stop reviewing! Thanks to Caz and GigglesforJohnnyDepp for reviewing, I love you guys so much. More soon, including Mort's reaction to the state of his pants. Hee Hee! Review away, folks!

Much love,

S.S.