The Pacifist [COMPLETED]

She Has Something I Don't Have

Rachel

Something nefarious stood behind her. Mr. Maxwell was gone and this made Rachel feel very real fear. Some primal part of her knew the danger the man possessed and all of it had been unleashed with no one and nothing to focus on but her. It was alright, she decided. Even if it resulted in her death, Rachel believed she would be at peace with going out in such a cosmically poetic way. She decided she'd weather whatever he needed of her.

As his arm tightened around her throat, cutting off her brain's blood supply, she took a deep, surrendering breath. He clawed at her stomach again but the burn felt distant this time and a loud ringing vibration deafened her. Her sight was dimming as her consciousness slipped and she heard him growl before everything went black.

The vibrating sound stayed with her and suddenly, she was in her art studio. Sunlight streamed in in an unusual angle. It shouldn't have been possible, but it lit up the space so beautifully she knew she had to take advantage of it. A blank canvass was waiting for her and she found that she was already holding a paintbrush and palette. Various shades of red and orange paint were already on it; the exact colors she needed in fact. She rushed to the canvass and started painting maniacally as if she was a mad scientist trying to solve an impossible equation. She very well might as well been, since she was trying to paint feelings.

Each stroke of her brush failed to convey what laid deep in her core—

"Ah!" she cried out. She was back in Mr. Maxwell's bedroom. She panicked as she tried to regain her bearings and make sense of the pain that shot through her left hip. Fight or flight had her feeling wild and vulnerable and wouldn't allow her to remember that she was safe... or as safe as she could be, and that she had chosen to be there. Fight won and she twisted, her elbow weaponized and ready to inflict damage. She was on her knees with her top half bent over his bed and her elbow connected with his temple. She expected him to reel back in pain but he didn't even flinch, which terrified her because sharp daggers of pain shot up her elbow. It did; however, aggravate Mr. Maxwell because he got up with a growl and a snarl on his face.

"Please," whispered Rachel, forgetting her resolve to receive whatever he had to give her. Mr. Maxwell didn't hear the plea. She knew she could call red and trusted with all she was that the coded color would stop him in his tracks. Rachel twisted the rest of the way and backed up onto the bed until her back was against the wall. He towered over her, a mountain of menace and violence. Mr. Maxwell's erection looked painful and despite her terror, Rachel's core roared to life like a fire that had just been stoked.

She spread her legs so he could see her arousal, hoping he would switch gears and fuck her. His eyes snapped to what she showed him. Relief had Rachel limp when she saw him reflect her hunger back to her. With a trembling hand, she reached down to touch herself. Rachel's clit was painfully swollen and sensitive. Her own response had her briefly acknowledge what a wild, wanton beast she herself was. The thought overwhelmed her; that such turmoil could trigger such an arousal. There was no way they could do this often. There was no doubt in her mind she would die if they did.

Mr. Maxwell went to her, kneeling on the bed and leaning over so that he was practically nose to nose with Rachel. "Lay down," he bit out, so tersely it made her flinch. She scrambled into position but he flipped her over so that she was laying on her stomach and mounted her. There was no warning, no care as he thrust into her, deeply, all the way. Rachel realized her folly then, that there would be no escaping the pain. She gasped from the sudden intrusion. He thrust into her again and she had to bite down on the pillow to keep from crying out.

He gave her no escape by slowing down and she saw stars from the pain. She grew dizzy, her efforts to hold her screams in resulting in her holding her breath. She tried to take one but it had been cut off by an unhindered cry. On and on he went until she grew limp, tired from tensing up as she fought the agony. The moment she did, the pain stopped. She tried to relax more, taking deep breaths and deciding to receive him as deeply as she could without resistance.

The pain, that had lessened to a discomfort, turned to pleasure and it wasn't long before she felt a tightness in her belly. She was going to come. The building orgasm fueled itself as she thought about the fact that him fucking her so violently was the cause. Rachel fought desperately to stay relaxed and not give in to the resulting tightening of her muscles as they prepared for release. Tightening meant more pain.

Then she came. She came so wildly that she cried out from the pleasure louder than she had been crying out in pain. Her entire body convulsed from the intensity of it and it wasn't long before Mr. Maxwell sped up his rhythm with his own building climax.

Him fighting for his release had Rachel coming again and they both came together, tumbling over the edge and falling into a chasm of insanity. Rachel reached back and clawed at him as he clawed at her, the two of them digging their nails into each other wherever they could. Rachel's scratches had him snarling and retaliating with bites until he had her pinned down so that she couldn't move.

They laid still breathing hard, his softening cock still inside of her. Rachel knew it was over and she had survived, but she also knew his come down wouldn't be pretty, so she quickly wiggled out from under him and awkwardly managed to pull his large frame into her arms. He didn't resist and she hugged him, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead.