by Dawn Steele
This was definitely weird!
But her hormones were flowing. It was strange. Maybe it was because she was pregnant, but her libido was sharper than it had been for a long time.
She wanted Rust. Needed him so badly. She needed to bury her nose in the crook of his shoulder and breathe in his musky scent. She needed to hold his body close to hers – so close that there would not be a modicum of space between them. She needed his cock inside her – thrusting, pulsing, filling her with his heat.
Oh Rust, how I’ve missed you.
There was not a shred of doubt in her mind that he was the one for her. The one that she would sacrifice everything for – even her life. This was the father of her child. The man she would build an entire life and family for.
He was much thinner than when she had last seen him. She was right. He had lost weight. Not only was his face more ethereal, but his muscles had lost bulk and the six-pack on his abdomen was more pronounced that ever. He was as lean as a whippet. She was worried about him.
“Have you been eating well?” she asked him. “Sleeping well?”
His erection tented his boxers, and he shrugged them off. His swollen cock – the cock she missed so much – was standing up like a flagpole. Pointing towards her. Waiting to spear her. Her mouth went dry even as her pussy creamed over.
“I can’t wait to see you naked,” he said in a husky voice.
I can’t wait to be naked for you too. An unbidden image of Alyssa in front of a monitor, watching them undress, intruded her mind, but she swept it away. Rust was right. They had to live here one way or another, and to be damned if they had to live like chaste monks. Who knew how long they had to live anyway – lab rats that they were?
Once he was fully naked, he began to undo the buttons on her loose dress. He took off her bra.
“God,” he breathed. “These are bigger than ever.”
It was true. Pregnancy had given her girth and swollen her breasts. Her areolas were darker and more pronounced than ever.
He cupped her breasts. He lifted her mounds and squeezed them. There was an urgency to his grip, and it was almost painful – his rampant need of her.
“I missed these,” he said.
He bent his head down and took her left nipple in his mouth.
“Mmmmmmmm.” He tasted it and laved his tongue back and forth over the engorged and very protuberant tip.
She gasped. The sensation of his wet tongue on her flesh was sharper than it ever had before – as though all her senses had been heightened. Blood flowed into her nipples and made them so hard they were practically bursting.
He gently pushed her down onto the bed. He slid off her panties. In contrast to the previous times they had made love, he was gentle, tender. He sealed his mouth over her other nipple, and sucked. As he sucked, his tongue circled the areola and the tip, sending delicious tingles from her breast all the way down to her pussy and thighs.
Her womb contracted, and she could swear the baby inside moved, even though it wasn’t time for her to experience any quickening yet. But perhaps shifter babies were different?
He opened her legs. He scooted down lower and plied his clever tongue onto her pussy. The familiarity of this act came back to her – oh, how she missed this! His tongue trailed and made circles all over her pussy – her labia, the grooves between her labia, her clit and all the folds in between. Her clit became engorged and her pussy juices flowed copiously. He licked this off as well, like a cat licking cream.
He was a giant cat after all, she thought.
He worked his tongue in and around her pussy with dexterity, opening her up with his fingers and augmenting his oral ministrations with the pads of his index finger and thumb. The sensations climbed in her groin area – swarming, dancing, spooling, looping. Somewhere at the back of her brain, she was aware that they were being watched, but this didn’t matter. Not with what he was doing to her.
She moaned softly as he continued to lave her. He opened her legs so wide that her thighs were almost at a horizontal line. In this manner, her deepest recesses and holes were open to him. He licked the area around her pussy hole, and then plunged his tongue into her vaginal tunnel.
“Ohhhh!” She reacted with pleasurable shock.
At the same time, he stubbed one finger into her anus. The double penetration was enough to send her over the edge to ecstasy, and she exploded. Combined with her weeks of abstinence, her orgasm rose rapidly to white-hot levels.
“Oh, oh, oh!” she screamed into the ceiling.
Take that, Alyssa Foley!
Rust did not show her mercy. He held her hips down and continued to lick her. Her orgasm extended and multiplied. Her body shuddered and trashed and flailed like a helpless doll.
“Oh, Rust, please!”
She couldn’t bear the intensity of it anymore.
“Please, I want to suck and lick you,” she said.
He climbed onto the bed and posited himself so that his cock hovered above her mouth and his head was still on top of her pussy. The classical ‘69’ position. He lowered his cock into her willing mouth and resumed his licking of her pussy.
His flesh was warm and sweet in her mouth. His cock filled the entire circumference of her mouth. He began to buck his hips. Up and down, so that his cock slid in and out of her mouth. His crown impinged on her throat, and she gagged slightly.
“Sorry,” he murmured, and eased up on the thrusting.
They resumed their oral exchange. Building on their passion. Pleasuring each other. His licking of her pussy intensified in new directions. His tongue could reach more clit than pussy hole now, and the angle at which the tip smothered her hood was new and delicious and exciting.
After minutes of this, he got up.
“I want to try a little something new,” he said.
Her heart skipped a couple of beats.
He went to the bathroom and returned with two hand towels.
“Towels?” she inquired.
“Stick around in this place long enough, and you’ll understand.”
He tied her wrists in front of her with a rolled-up towel. Then, instead of tying her legs apart, he tied them together at the ankles.
“Don’t you want to fuck me?” she asked in surprise.
“Of course I do.”
He gently turned her over to her side. And then he placed her body at the edge of the bed so that her buttocks were facing him. She was lying at the edge of the bed with her ass over the side, wondering what he would do next.
She felt the prod of his cock against her pussy hole. His cock head nudged her entrance, and then penetrated.
It was very tight, but it felt very good. The entire girth of his cock was squeezed into her narrow passage, and she could feel every inch of him within her walls.
“Ohhhh!” she squealed.
“How does it feel?”
He inched in deeper, as deep as he could go. Pregnancy had swollen her womb, and she could feel his head abutting against her engorged cervix.
“Wonderful,” she gasped.
He began to slide in and out of her artificially narrowed tunnel, and it felt like absolute bliss.
“Oh, oh, oh!” she cried with each thrust of his cock against her cervix.
She didn’t ever want him to stop.
His cock slid in and out with ease. Her tunnel was already so wet and compressed. It slid entirely out, and then he pushed it back in again, eliciting another scream from her.
In, out. In, out.
She could remain like this for a long time. Just joined to him. Tied up and helpless. As long as they were together – for as long as it took.
The sex was so good and satisfying that she vaulted into another violent orgasm. It was so intense that she didn’t realize her wrists and ankles were bound. She completely lost awareness of her surroundings – mired in the stars and stratosphere as she was – until she came down to earth and realized where she was.
Where they were.
Prisoners.<
br />
And her spirits came crashing down together with her climax.
11
Alyssa’s eyes were rooted to the monitor.
She knew that the participants in the room knew that she was watching them, and that they didn’t care. She admired them for it, and at the same time, she envied them. In particular, Kate Penney.
“That was hot,” her colleague, Dan, said. His eyes were just as glued to the monitors.
She stole a look at his crotch. His penis was tenting his pants all right.
Rust, oh Rust.
Her own breasts were engorged and her pussy was creaming just to take in that spectacle. From their vantage, Rust was fucking Kate, who lay sideways with her ankles tied together. Alyssa had never seen anything like it before. Her sex life was almost non-existent these days. And what unfolded before them was not porn because the connection between the two people in the room was so palpable, so desperate.
This is what it must be to love and to lust.
She knew now that she wanted Rust. Wanted him like she had never wanted any man before.
“Yes,” she murmured. “Very hot.”
But he was Kate Penney’s. He would never be hers.
Dan wiped the sweat which beaded his brow.
“I’m gonna . . . uh, take a break right now. You’re recording this, right?”
“Right.”
The bulge at his trousers was very prominent as he bolted out of the observation room. She was lucky that female arousal was less obvious. Because she was aroused. Very, very aroused indeed. She could well imagine Rust trying her ankles together like that and fucking her from behind. She could almost feel his large cock inside her own pussy now.
Stop it! You have to be impartial!
There was once, in Pakistan, she had been attracted to one of the detainees. At that time, the CIA had a free rein on torture. The detainee was a man named Sayid, and he was very attractive in an Arabian sheikh way. In fact, his family was oil-rich, but he chose to join a terrorist faction early on and forsake his inheritance.
They tortured Sayid daily with sleep deprivation and water-boarding until he cracked and revealed the names of the top three militants. After that, he was given food and a hot shower.
She watched him eat from across the table.
“See what I mean?” she said. “I am your friend.”
As long as you give me what I want.
He was really a very handsome man. He had long eyelashes which curled upward and he had black, lustrous hair which was shoulder-length.
He said, “I can never go back out there. They know you have me.”
“You can stay right here. We will take you back to America with us.”
“To where? Guantanomo Bay?”
“That’s not true. You are free to go anywhere.”
And be our informant while having an Al-Qaeda contract on your head.
They talked some more. About America. About Saudi Arabia, where he was from. About his family and their expectations of him. And she realized they were no different actually, for all their differences in culture and beliefs and religion. They still had the same dreams (“to be someone on my own”) and longed for freedom for their respective constraints.
Maybe they had too much celebratory wine, because she ended up having a look at his scars – each with a story attached to it – and they ended up in bed.
Her bed.
He was an amazing lover. Creative. Robust. He fucked her in all sorts of positions, but he didn’t want to lick her pussy. It was beneath him to lick a woman, he claimed. A family quirk.
As he was fucking her, he gazed into her eyes.
“I knew you wanted me from the beginning,” he said in his Oxford accent.
“You wanted me too. I saw it.”
She knew what she was doing was wrong, wrong, wrong, but he was technically not their prisoner anymore.
“I like you,” he said.
She didn’t say anything in reply, but his cock was very nice inside her, and it had been too long since she had someone’s cock.
Then he closed his hands around her neck.
“That’s why I’m sorry I have to do this,” he said with true regret in his eyes.
He squeezed.
With the air literally choked out of her windpipe, green zigzags began to appear before her eyes. Her first instinct was to beat at his chest and shoulders with her fists, but she was better than that. She was a trained operative.
She brought her knee up sharply in between his legs. Then she pushed him with all her might. His grip loosened around her neck, and she was able to clamber away. Although her brain was deprived of oxygen, she reached for the gun she always had in her bedside drawer.
She aimed it at him.
He did not raise his hands.
“Shoot me,” he said. He lifted his chin proudly and proffered her his chest. He still had an erection. “There’s no future out there for me anyway. They won’t let me live.”
“OK,” she said.
She pulled the trigger. The bullet sang and embedded itself into his chest.
She would say he broke out and came to her room later and tried to kill her. Which was partially true.
Her need for Rust O’Brien brought back that painful memory, and it was as if she relived every moment of that betrayal. She had to remember that Rust O’Brien was no different from any other detainee. She had to fight this – her desire for him.
Dan came in again. He must have had a swift hand job.
“Alyssa,” he said, “you have to see this.”
He turned on the news channel.
Rita Cunningham appeared on CNN. The woman had undergone a drastic transformation since she won the Pulitzer.
“Is that Rita Cunningham?” Dan said.
Which was unnecessary since the teletype clearly showed ‘RITA CUNNINGHAM, INDEPENDENT JOURNALIST’ below the teleplay.
The anchorman was saying, “So what do you think the FBI should do?”
Rita said, “Show proof that Rust O’Brien and his parents are still alive. We’re still a free country, I’d like to think. Rust, Moira and Connor O’Brien have been detained by our government without trial for more than a month.”
Cut screen to a family photo of Moira and Connor when they were younger, together with Rust as a pre-teen. They were a great-looking, all American family. Alyssa knew that Rita had that photo personally chosen to incite empathy from the public.
“So Rust is a shifter. So they are putting him through experiments,” Rita said. “But what sort of experiments? Even chimpanzees have rights when they turn into lab animals. When I exposed Rust O’Brien to the world, I fully intend him to be treated with dignity. He is a human being, by all appearances, and he has done nothing wrong. He simply is who he is, just like if you are born Jewish, or without legs, or LGBT. Which by the way stands for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgendered, for the uninitiated.”
She paused significantly.
“What exactly do you want the FBI to do for the O’Brien family?” the anchorman said.
“I want the FBI and our President to show us the O’Brien family in the flesh. Are our government agencies still in the habit of torturing and humiliating detainees like we have seen in Abu-Ghraib? I would like to think that we Americans have progressed. The O’Briens have not conducted acts of terrorism against our country. In fact, the three of them have been upstanding contributors to our community.
“Connor O’Brien is a psychiatrist at the Bellevue Hospital for the criminally insane, and we all know that is a thankless job. Moira O’Brien is a psychiatrist and a psychologist with a very large New York practice. Rust O’Brien is a professor of psychology and he once served at Bellevue with his father. The O’Brien family has been part of charities and causes and foundations – including that for autism, mental disorders and Alzheimer’s disease.”
Rita gazed up at the camera.
“I want to see Rust O’Brien. I want to know he’s sa
fe and sound. I was the one who unmasked him, and it is my patriotic and moral duty to ensure his wellbeing as well of that of his parents – just as it was my patriotic and moral duty to unmask him to the world. He is still contributing to our society by willingly becoming a test subject.”
“You bring up many points,” the anchorman conceded. “At this stage, the FBI has no comment.”
“We want to see the O’Briens,” Rita concluded. “If the FBI has done nothing wrong to them, then show us the O’Briens.”
Behind her, the screen showed a large crowd outside Times Square with signs and placards with:
‘SHOW US THE O’BRIENS’
‘NO MORE TORTURE’
‘OUR GOVERNMENT GIVES AMERICA A BAD NAME’
and even
‘SHIFTERS WELCOME IN USA’.
Alyssa was astounded.
How had Rita Cunningham managed to wrangle public support in such a short period of time? Or had she been planning this all along?
“What are we going to do?” Dan said.
“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to discuss this with the Director.”
12
Kate wished she could tell Rust about what she had done with Rita Cunningham, but she didn’t dare.
She wrote on a notepad:
CAN I WRITE YOU SOMETHING IMPORTANT? I WILL DESTROY THIS NOTE ONCE YOU READ IT.
He looked up at the ceiling and shielded her with his body.
He wrote back:
DON’T RISK IT.
She nodded understandingly. There was so much she needed to tell him. So much she wanted to talk to him about.
“What did they do to you today?” he asked casually.
“We did an ultrasound.”
It was strange, she thought, that the baby’s daddy wasn’t present. If they had been in a real obstetrician’s clinic, Rust would have been there, she was sure.
“And?”
She smiled.
“It’s a baby. A healthy baby.”
His eyes lighted up. “Boy or girl?”
“I won’t tell.”
“You won’t tell me?”