Watching Rory

W.T.F.

Sleep has become a thing of my past.

Finding the latest picture has sent me over the edge. In the past thirty-six hours, I've stopped taking my sleeping medication and have barely closed my eyes for a few minutes.

My phone rings, and the sudden noise throws me into shock.

"No one is here, Rory," I hum to myself.

Calm down.

"Hello," I say, answering the call.

"Mrs. Shaffer. I have some disheartening news about your case."

It's my lawyer Cynthia.

"Judge Andrews dropped the order of protection, and Eric legally has access to you and the home," she continued.

"No," I cry.

Without listening to another word she has to say, I chuck my phone against the closed closet door smashing it into a million pieces.

Fuck my pride.

I don't care what I put into this house. I can't and wont to stay here anymore.

My safety is more important.

"There must be a suitcase around here somewhere," I mutter while scanning the closet.

I'll pack the necessities and leave here in a few minutes.

As I shuffle through my belongings, I locate the suitcase and start emptying my hangers into it.

I'm about to put on my favorite pair of UGG slippers, but the sound of the door handle rattling stops me in place.

Fuck I'm out of time. Eric's here.

Slowly I collapse to my palette, even my breaths, and close my eyes to imitate sleep.

The door is shaking on its hinges. There's nothing I can do to stop what's about to happen.

"God, please take me quickly, don't let me suffer," I whisper as the sound of the lock breaking penetrates my ears.

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

Hairs across my body rise with the presence of someone entering my space.

Breathe Rory. Breathe.

"Open your eyes slut, I know you're awake," a deep, altered voice says, but I refuse.

"You were packing mere minutes ago, and I see you smashed your phone."

"Were you trying to escape, Rory?" he asks, pressing his boot into the crown of my head.

The tread from his boot pulls at my hair, and the agony forces my eyes open.

A terrifying masked man is standing over me.

He's wearing a white mask that morphs over his face. There aren't any features besides black paint dripping down where the mouth should be.

"Do you like what you see, little slut?" he says, removing his boot from my head.

"Eric," I sputter.

"We're going to play a game, Rory, and if you follow the rules to a T, you might make it out of here alive."

Without fully understanding what he's saying, I faintly nod.

"Get on your knees," he asserts, and shakingly I comply.

"That's My good Little Slut" he praises.

"Unzip my jeans."

My eyes glance at the broken door in a moment of hesitation, and he notices.

"Now, Rory," the creepy voice seethes.

Fuck he said if I listened, he wouldn't kill me, but that doesn't mean he won't harm me.

My hands quiver as I obey his request, and his unsheathed cock appears behind the zipper.

"Who are you?" I gasp.

Eric and I had sex enough for me to know the appendage in front of me was not his.

"Shut your mouth slut. I didn't permit you to speak," the masked stranger says as he lowers his pants.

He spits on his hand and squeezes his shaft before stroking his fist up and down.

His length is more significant than I've ever seen. I shouldn't watch this perversion, but I can't ignore what the masked man is doing.

"Spit on my cock Rory," he groans.

I'm about to do as he asked, but I must not have moved fast enough because he grabs me by the ponytail and shoves my face into his pelvis.

Out of reflex, my fists fly up to his abdomen, continually punching him, but it's pointless. His grip doesn't relent.

"If you can't be a good girl, we will have to do this the hard way," he growls in my ear.

"You'll wish all you had to do was give me your spit."

Simultaneously he releases my hair and steps forward until the back of my head presses against a cabinet.

Instead of the stranger's pelvis, his thick, hard cock, rests against my face, and I get sick to the stomach imagining what is about to happen.

My intuition is proven correct when he tries forcing himself between my lips.

It's apparent he disapproves of my refusal when he clenches his fingertips around my jaw and yells, "Open your goddamn mouth."

Warily I submit, and in the next second, I'm choking on his massive cock.

His pumps are rough and deep, causing me to gag. He pulls out so the head of his dick is at the cusp of my lips before slamming it into the back of my throat.

There's saliva dripping down my chin, and this sick fuck is enjoying every second of it.

"That's right, take all of my cock in that filthy little mouth of yours," he grunts.

As the masked man's thrusts become more rabid, a hand harshly slaps my sex.

Distracted, I didn't even notice he moved my dress up and was getting a great view of my cotton panties.

The stranger's hip movement stops leaving his cock dormant in my mouth when a warm hand moves my panties to the side and exposes my pussy.

"You like it when I slap your clit don't you, Rory?"

"Your cunt is dripping wet," he says as he runs his pointer finger through my arousal.

Thoroughly concentrated on the man's touch between my legs, I barely notice when he starts pounding back into me.

That is until his cock tightens, and a warm salty liquid releases into my throat.

The taste breaks the trance I'm under, and like a chain reaction, I coil back. The remainder of cum spewing from the stranger's dick lands in my hair and all over my face.

Tears form behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.

"Pretty little slut, you better get used to eating my cum" the man growls.

"This won't be the last time you choke on my dick," he says, and without another word, he stalks out of the room.

A few minutes later, the front door slamming rattles the entire house, and I'm left motionless on the floor, covered in a stranger's sticky release.

What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened?

🖤 Who's your favorite masked man?