(No worries, IRL happens. Glad to have you back. I hope you won't be offended by this post being shorter. In these kinds of situations, I find shorter posts that can go back and forth tend to work better.)

It was hard to say whether the doctor had made any noise as she walked away. Her appearance was so strange and dreamlike, it would have almost seemed natural for her not to make a sound. Either way, Olivia wouldn't be able to hear any trace of the doctor around the corner now as she approached it. There were, in fact, no sounds other than what she'd grown accustomed to in these place - a faint wind, the cracking of rocks changing temperatures, a dripping of water in nearby pipes. There was nothing she could detect whatsoever that would indicate an actual human being was running off ahead of her, or was anywhere around her.

And yet, when she checked around the corner, there he was. Standing before her, tall and proud and in all his muscular glory, was the dark skinned man from her saucy video memories. He was standing straight, with his shoulders squared, skin tight over his hard, prominent muscles. He was totally naked, and Olivia's gaze could quickly find his most prominent feature. His cock hung exposed, almost a foot long soft, and framed by his massive balls. For a moment, he looked as if he might be a statue, like some sort of mannequin pulled straight from her fantasies. But almost instantly, his dark eyes shifted and turned towards her, and the rest of his head followed a second later. As stealthily as she'd tried to check around the corner, it seemed he'd been waiting for her, and he clearly had eyes only for her. He looked at her with the same expression he'd looked at the red-haired girl in his bed - a mix of gentle affection and primal hunger for her body.

Slowly, he began to walk towards her. The man did make a sound. In fact, it seemed like all Olivia could hear was the slap of his bare feet against the hard floor as he approached her. His expression didn't shift, but his flaccid penis immediately began to swell and extend, rising up to point towards her, brimming with desire.

(Thanks. I'm really enjoying this RP as well, and I only wish I had more time during the week to get replies back to you. Also, I'm really sorry. I know you said you'd enjoy some short, little posts back and forth, but I just kind of had the opposite of writer's block on this one where the ideas just kept coming and I ended up writing them all down. Hopefully though, I can get some pretty short posts in on the next few exchanges, depending on what happens, but for now...)

Whether or not Olivia had expected to see that questionable 'doctor' Natsuki, once she'd peered around the corner, or if she'd expected to see an empty corridor in that classic, cliche, haunted house style, it would be fairly clear that she'd not expected to see instead the man that was now waiting for her. The hulk standing at at least half a foot taller than the tiny, petite sized Olivia, if not more, the initial gaze of this sweet little heiress would first land squarely upon his strong, powerful looking arms, and fine, sculpted abdomen, all currently around her present head height. A tiny, brief drop to the direction with which Olivia's mask faced, and one would catch the split second, subtle flicker during which her sight glanced down just long enough to confirm the nakedness of this man. However, after that, as she foolishly brought herself more clearly around the corner, to be more clearly present, not really thinking as she moved, mesmerised by the sight now before her, one would get to observe as she slowly raised her head, standing more upright herself, as she seemingly stared, wide eyed, up at the face of this latest apparition. Even at full height, she was still shorter than him, and for a time he would almost seem frozen in his stance. However...

"...!"

Managing not to make a sound, just about, but certainly jumping at the sudden movement of the figure, Olivia would be caught entirely off guard when those dark eyes turned towards her. A full on, proper eruption of red, not just some subtle tint, would now be seen bursting across her cheeks and pretty little face just beneath the plain, blank, porcelein sheen of her half mask still adorning the top part of her head and, though her initial reaction is to look away, as he seemingly moves towards her, a sort of panic takes hold causing her to wildly dart her gaze back and forth, catching his focus again, seeing the want and lust, before hastily averting her vision to one side.

'How is this happening?' The thought raced across her mind. Until he'd started moving, the full impact of suddenly having a naked, muscular man in front of her hadn't really struck. However, once he'd come to life, and gotten that look in his eyes, it was like the shock of the whole thing was finally having the chance to hit. Her heart jolted in her chest before picking up its new, frantic pace. He moved closer, she instinctively stepped away. A sort of nervous excitement, with far too much of the nervousness side of it for the experience to be in any way enjoyable, shot through her system as her breast seemingly pumped nothing but air through her veins.

It wasn't anything she hadn't experienced before. You're at a party, having drinks. You kind of hoped for something when you got there, but nothing seems to be happening. Everything seems kind of relaxed. Sure, it would have been nice if someone, one of the guys, or even one of the girls, in Olivia's case, struck up a conversation, made a move, but in the end nobody seems to be going for it, and you've had just enough time to settle in and get passed any disappointment. You've brought some hot wings and munched on them, because you're kind of shy and you're not always in the middle of the action, where everyone's talking. Everything seems pretty chill and then... suddenly... 'Oh!'... there's a hot guy there. You don't really know him, but he's got a good smile, and he's talking to you, dropping a line but... at the same time... you kind of want to just be home, playing computer games and... he's nice, but... It was that same nervous feeling, the kind that should have had some pleasant excitement thrown in, but all you can think about is how scared you are, not that he was being scary, but... it was different, with it actually happening...

And... of course... what Olivia was experiencing here and now was so much worse. In theory, in fantasies, she would dream of a situation like this, where a big, strong, well endowed (that much was always a must) man just came up to her, silently taking her. Now that it was actually happening though... He hadn't said a word, but neither, she noticed, had she. Her lips were already parted, just slightly, Olivia left simply gaping at the apparition. However, before she could say a word, a sense of 'movement' traps her sight and, unable to stop herself, Olivia finds herself looking down.

With a sort of terrified horror, this small, shy, squeaking girl would simply watch as the statuesque hulk grew before her. Seemingly unable to look away, transfixed on this meaty, throbbing, vein covered rod, Olivia would stand witness as this monstrous manhood swells. Only a few feet away from her now, standing hard and tall, rising to its full, slightly curved height, the bulging, flesh stick would twitch slightly once it'd fully grown, as if its hot, swollen, blood filled length demanded attention. Actually letting out a quiet gasp when it did this, despite everything, Olivia couldn't help but feel a 'twitch' of her own sex.

She was in trouble, she knew that much and, for a brief moment, she found her mind going back to the first time she'd brought herself a... erm... 'official aid'. The package had arrived, plain brown box, with no marking, entirely discrete. Still, she'd grabbed it as soon as possible, for fear of discovery, or worse, of someone asking her what she'd bought, and had run up the stairs of the family mansion to quickly squirrel the prize away in her room. Of course, once she'd gotten it to her room, she'd had to open it to see and... She'd ordered a proper dildo for herself, ten inch, realistic, pink jelly, but until she had it there in her hands, until she was looking at it there and then, she wouldn't have realised exactly how... big, it'd be. At the time, she remembered thinking to herself 'oh no, I screwed up. I took it too far. I'm sorry.' but did so as a sort of joke, a fake pleading for mercy to further encourage and arouse herself. Indeed, her own feelings on the matter were nothing but excitement, and an eagerness to try this new toy as soon as possible... with, perhaps, just a tiny twinge of fear, regarding the size with which she was dealing. Ultimately, she was pleased with her purchase, and still had 'Pinky' in her collection to this very day. Right now though, with that very real looking, dark, swollen manhood standing before her, Olivia couldn't help but feel that initial, scared sentiment again, only this time, the fear on her part was all the more genuine. He was bigger and far more solid looking than her toy.

He continued to advance, and she continued to back away, slowly raising her gaze back up. She'd seen what this guy could do to a woman and, in Olivia's mind, she was hardly that. The actress in all of the video's Olivia had watched, she was a woman. A strong, powerful, sexual woman who knew her way around the male body and could take them in any size or number. In comparison, our little wheelchair geek was just a tiny slip of a girl, fragile, inexperience. There was no way she could handle the sort of things he could throw her way though, from what she remembered, the men in those videos were always very gentle, at least, at first. It was the common fantasy, the strong, confident man, coming forth to dominate and take charge. Frankly, Olivia wasn't sure how she would handle it. The nervousness from this very sudden, and very real situation was already starting to make her stomach churn. She wasn't sure how she would react if he backed her against a wall, slowly reached out, lifting her chin in his grasp, gazing deep into her eyes with those dark, obsidian orbs of his...

"NN!"

She squeaked, she actually squeaked, body jolting sharply to attention. Her back had just hit a wall. The thought, the fantasy, had just been fleeting through her head, but now that it was actually happening... She was terrified. Her gaze went up to the man's face. His expression was still the same as before, dark and lusting. Presumably, her heart was still beating in her chest, but she could hardly feel it, the poor thing was pumping so fast. Her whole body, and her lips quivered, but she would manage to speak.

"E-erm... E-ex-excuse me?"

For the first time, the preposterous nature of her current situation shot across her mind, though this was usually the part in the story where the girl was shut up. It was one thing to imagine the character in her vids to be here, come to life, it was another to imagine that the actor, from such a feature, would suddenly be here. Either possibility seemed equally as impossible.

"C-could you... could you stop for a moment? Y-you a-appear to be.. erm..."

... in a state of undress, were the words that sprung to mind. However, the ever nearer place this man was taking would have her all the more concerned, and the rest of her sentence would fail to come to light. So far, he hadn't spoken, but even if he were to say something, Olivia would find herself ready to bolt. She'd all but forgotten about the taser in her bag. She was right on the corner, the empty corridor, the other direction down the T-junction, from one side of which this man had approached, just to her left. She had a way out, and if he got any closer, she was sure to make a run for it. A continued silence from him would be bad, and one of those perfect lines from his 'films' would be even worse. Either way, it didn't seem as if Olivia had the stomach to play out any of those fantasies today and, depending how things went, the man would have to give chase if he wanted her.

(No worries, write however long feels good. Just didn't want you to think I was trying to skimp on the word count for no reason)

The man didn't stop. Assuming he even was a man, that was. Olivia may have been bookish and nerdy at times, but she was still a beauty. Most men would show some reaction to her, especially given what he was clearly aiming to do. Even if only a smirk or a chuckle, a normal man should respond to her question. A normal man would compliment her beauty, offer her untold pleasures, promise to rape her senseless, raise an eyebrow in approval, anything.

But not this man. Not whatever he was. He only walked towards her with a steady pace, arms swaying gently at his sides, cock growing more erect. He kept his eyes trained on her, his expression never shifting from that facade both passive and lustful at once.

263 was so delighted, it could have done backflips if such a thing were part of its species' standard behaviors. As the phantom stranger approached Olivia, it probed her mind to read her reactions. And it liked what it saw very much. She seemed to be of two minds - the primal and the rational. And while the former was intrigued by the prospect of fornicating with such a well-endowed male, the latter was decidedly reluctant to be taken in such a manner. That was the part that was clearly stronger within her. Such a ratio of feelings was 263's favorite kind of victim - not so eager she'd immediately give in and embrace the pleasure, not so scared she wouldn't get wet as she was raped. She was the kind of woman it could have all the fun it wanted with, and it sensed it wouldn't soon be growing tired of her. For now, it was time to test that better judgement.

The man drew close to her. It felt like his very size and presence was pushing her back against the wall now. His pace only began to slow as he drew within a massive arm's length of her. And when he did, it was only to raise his arm, and reach out for her.

The light illuminating this impressive, tall figure shook as the hand holding Olivia's torch trembled. She was now as far back and as hard against the wall as she could manage to be and, with her free hand, she instinctively clawed and gripped tight the corner of the wall. Her heart pounded in her chest and her lower lip wobbled in a sort of silent whimper as she stood there, wide and doe eyed, like a frightened deer in the headlights.

"I... erm..."

With a final stutter, the young heiress tried to reason with the approaching figure one more time. Unfortunately, words, precise, consistent words, would not exactly be forthcoming on her part and, as his cold, unnerving, reactionless gait brought him closer and closer, it would not appear as if anything she could say, or stammer, would have any affect upon him. Instead, the man would come all the way up to her, close enough almost for him to simply reach out and touch her and, with this, the slightest of movements, the subtlest of twinges as he only just began to raise up his arm, would prove enough to set Olivia off, pushing her past her breaking point.

"MM!"

A terrible, tense shiver ran up Olivia's body, all the way from her toes up to her head and, from the back of her throat, there would come a tiny, high pitch squeak, not unlike that of a small, vulnerable mouse. Unable to help herself, she'd give one final, unconscious glance down at his long, throbbing, vein covered, sturdy manhood and, with that, her cheeks flared pink one last time before she turned to flee, throwing up at the man one final, frightened, wide eyed stare.

Instinctively trying to remain as far away from him as possible as she turned, the young girl found herself rolling over into the corner and, as she began to run, she would find herself stumbling, just slightly, as she threw her weight out into the open air. Long, waist length hair billowed out briefly behind her, the purple tips at the end of these blonde strands glistening with sweat in the dim light and, as she ran, the air would only seem to churn these already slightly curled locks, tossing them wildly. Her legs were unsteady, wobbling slightly as she moved. However, even with her frailty, she'd manage to move with an impressive pace and, before long, she'd be making her way down another long, dark, scary corridor lined with nothing but dust and doors.

It was clear that fear and a pressing need to get away from that man, creature, thing, was enough to give her the strength she needed, at least in the short term. However once she'd finally slowed, the toll from all this exertion would be clear and, as she leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath, one could easily see her knees as they wobbled visibly beneath her. With one hand, she'd flash the light of her torch back down the corridor, back down the way she'd just come and, turning her head, she would glance around in the hopes that the 'apparition' from earlier was gone or, at the very least, was no longer in pursuit.

263 was mildly impressed as it watched the young woman turn and flee from the imposing interloper. Her legs were weak, it knew, and fatigued from her journey thus far. And yet, in her fear and self-preservation instincts, she found the strength to propel herself forward towards safety, or at least what she assumed to be safety. As she fled, the man's head turned to follow her. If she turned back towards him, she'd seem him turn towards her, and resume his gait. But he didn't run after her. He didn't move one bit faster than he had at first. He only kept up the same determined, unhurried walk towards her, at a pace that quickly allowed her to leave him behind.

The mysterious man was well out of sight by the time Olivia came to a stop. The heavy, oppressive aura that seemed to go before him like a herald had vanished as well, once more leaving her in the dim light and the silence with only her own breathing. However, Olivia wouldn't have much time to investigate her surroundings. The moment she turned to look back down the hallway, her vision would shift, this time with a sickening lurch and a whooshing sound filling her ears.

When her vision returned, she was once more in Birch's clutches, wrapped in his vines. He was inside her, drilling her holes, and she was moaning passionately for him. But something was different this time. She wasn't just seeing it. She wasn't even just hearing it. There was a feeling, a heat and a pressure between her legs. It wasn't as intense as actually being fucked, but it was a much more prominent arousal than she'd normally get just from watching someone being ravaged - even herself. It was as if an aura of lust had fallen over the scene she was being forced to relive, and was working its way into her blood, through her heart and into her mind. As time went on, the feeling grew stronger.

"That was... This is..."

Leaning against the wall, breathing deep, Olivia found herself a moment with which to reel, heart still pounding in her chest as she tried to process what had just happened.

"Fuck..."

She hissed, the muttered, exasperated curse whispered softly under her breath. She'd run. She'd fled from that apparition and, with that, she'd allowed herself to lose her composure. Something unknown, something unexplainable was happening, and amidst it all she was still panicking like some frightened little school girl.

"C'mon Olivia, pull yourself together."

It'd been a long day and, even though facing some sort of challenge such as this had kinda been her goal when she'd first entered this building, right now she didn't feel very ready. She'd always thought that a keen mind and a calm focus in the face of danger was all she needed. She didn't need any weapons or super powers to deal with this threat. She just had to be clever, like in that British TV show, you know, the one with the time traveller? Stay calm, think rationally, and you can come up with some sort of brilliant plan. That was how things always were in the show. Then again, those tales were always just that, stories, nice little fables written in a BBC studio somewhere, filled with convenient plot points and devices. Frankly, if she was honest, she'd always thought that the show had gone kind of down hill since Ten-inch- TENANT!!

A sort of flinch and recoil is really, truly, actually visible from the outside as Olivia sharply corrects herself, shaking her head slightly as she rejected the Freudian slip that'd invaded her mind.

The show had gone down hill since David TENANT had left.

She felt embarrassed, as if there were someway someone out there could actually be listening to what she was thinking. But, to get back to the matter at hand, she'd gone quite a fair distance and couldn't hear anything now. Even without looking, she'd remembered how the man's bare feet had had a tendency of slapping gently when he'd walked and, given that, it hadn't sounded as if he'd been running to keep pace. She took a final, deep breath. It wasn't so bad, she guessed. After all, before all the clever stuff, there would always be a fair bit of running and escaping in the show, and so far she had that part down. Turning her head, she lifted the light of her torch to shine it back down the corridor, and with that Olivia would feel herself lurch as the whole world rushed and transformed around her.

"Wh-what?!"

All of a sudden, unexpectedly, before she even had time to react, Olivia would feel a strong force take hold as she was pulled upright. Vines, like rope took to her ankles and wrists, whilst others coiled around her body, sinking slightly into her soft, bare, caramel skin as her hips and stomach were gently squeezed. She was outside again, and she was not alone. Before her, standing tall, was that familiar wall of bark and living vines. Like some sort of tree, but with arms, legs and... erm... other appendages, Olivia would find herself, once more, face to... well... chest, him being such a large creature, with Birch.

It all happened pretty fast. Before she knew it, her hands were up, high above her head, and her feet, spread apart, were all the way up onto the tips of her toes. It wasn't just an illusion of sounds and sights this time. There was actual sensation, not to mention physical interaction as a force pulled and held her in place. She'd squirm, unable to help herself. She couldn't move her arms. Bound together tight, Olivia's wrists would merely grind together as she struggled and, as she tried to pull against the solid bindings now hoisting her up she couldn't help but gently open and close her hands desperately, twisting and turning them around but never, at any point, gaining any wiggle room with which to free herself. She wasn't going anywhere, and it would be clear that this helpless, squirming morsel was entirely under His control.

At first, she'd tense up. How could she not? One second she was indoors, the next she'd been transported outside, back into this situation. As things began to move against her though, a full body shudder would run through her, shaking and loosening things up. Heavy, rough hands, larger than any man's land on her hips, and as deep breath growls from Birch, the sound invokes a quivering squeak from Olivia as the beast moves. Her breasts, completely bare, are squashed as that wall of bark presses against her and, as it gently rubs against her soft, squishable flesh, she finds herself boldly struck by the absolute detail and realism. Everything was exactly as she recalled, the surroundings, the smells, even the feel of Birch himself, right down to the texture of the bark pressing against her skin, her modest dumpling breast feeling the crumbling grittiness of every tiny piece of moss. When he moved into her though, that was where things failed to match up.

There was a sensation, like flesh parting and something sliding in. However, it'd be faint in comparison to the real thing. It would be soft, a vague, tingling, rubbing the insides of her ass and cunt, nowhere as deep or thick as she remembered. It'd be enough to have her gasping passionately for breath, for her ears and cheeks to burn red with a hot flush, but the sensation would be distant, more like a deep, meditated recollection recollection of the sensations experienced rather than an actual repeat of those violations. Frankly, given her immobilised state, it'd be something of a tease. Something about the whole situation had her kind of flustered and aroused, enveloped in a soft, warm aura of lust and, as she merely gasped and panted, it'd be deeper, more passionate moans that would reach her ears, played back to her, exactly as she'd made them back then.

In the end though, even with her unable to move, things would never reach the same level as they actually had back then. For a time, she'd almost find herself somewhat hopeful, as the intensity of this faux encounter increased. It felt like her insides were being tickled and coaxed more than they felt like being fucked and roughly pounded, but as she found herself subtly edging, and the intensity of this 'recollection fucking' increased, she'd find herself, despite her will to fight this, almost expecting, almost wishing for the real, more definitive and solid, thing. She was still struggling in her bonds, not keen on reliving this encounter again but, as things continued, her body would begin to crave. It needed release. It needed... And unlike before, this particular 'episode' was not ending quick. She'd be bound, unable to move for some time and, as this warmth perforated her body, spreading from her groin, she'd begin to feel a sort of fuzzy, cloudy haze roll over her mind, dulling her senses and reasoning. She clenched her teeth and turned her head to one side but, as this heated, sexual encounter continued to play out, hips rising and rolling to a steady, primal rhythm, she couldn't deny her hot, blazing, arousal, nor the state of her body from which, even now, the rich stream of wet juices flowed, down the insides of her thighs, across her long slender legs all the way to the floor; a detail, she failed to notice, that'd actually been missing that first time she'd been with Birch.

[OOC: Mainly because his whole thing was sucking up a lady's juices, not because he'd gone in dry. Also so sorry for the long wait on the reply. I really am enjoying this thread and, for me, the thing I would really love to do is to have some rapid fire responses bouncing back and forth and for me to be doing replies on this thread at least once a day. Unfortunately, life has been a real bitch lately, and I've only just gotten the chance to do shit. On the plus side though, I've just finished the last day ever of the shitty job that's been eating all my time, and I'm actually between D&D campaigns atm so, hopefully, I can actually do stuff on this. Hope you like the post, sorry it's so long. I had ideas for this post for weeks now, and I guess the problem with me being kept away from writing for so long is that I end up having so many ideas that I end up just writing it all down in one great big dump. Hope you liked and enjoyed reading though and hopefully I can make them shorter from now on.]

263 watched from the shadows as Olivia tried to compose herself. It had seen this same display dozens of times before, when it stalked and chased a girl for sport. Granted, there were plenty that broke down and sniveled in fear at the first scare it threw at them. But the ones like her - the analytical, scientific ones - always tried to cling to their composure. So strong was their faith in the rational and the power of sanity that they held it in front of them like a shield, as if it could block even a single tentacle from touching them. It never could, but 263 had found it to be far more rewarding to, rather than simply disillusion them in a single stroke, wear down their belief. And right now, Olivia's was starting to crumble, but she was still determined to hold it together, even if 263 could already hear the more comically deviant thoughts creeping into her mind.

The illusion was the perfect assault. 263 had enjoyed it for the sheer spectacle of watching the tan-skinned beauty being defiled, but there was more to it than simply being raped. In here, in this memory, she was helpless. Her arms were bound, her legs spread. For all her reason and cleverness, she was trapped and without power. Sheer force had won the day, and her own body was beginning to betray her to lust. Pleasure would seep into her mind like a fog, forcing itself into every corner as she was made to watch her body being penetrated, her sex and her ass turned into the tree beast's watering holes as the vines fucked her. And yet, it wouldn't be enough.

No matter how the monster ravaged her bound body, she wouldn't feel the pleasure she had back then, or the pleasure her pussy craved now. She was not only bound by the power of her visions, but captive to her body's own carnal needs, teased and promised but not fulfilled by the phantoms that filled her perception now. She'd see her first rape in vivid detail, for minutes that might as well have been hours, but she'd only feel its echos.

And then, suddenly, the vision vanished. She was back in the dark hallway. And he was standing over her.

The dark-skinned man stood over her, imposing and placid and erect as ever. If he had been in a hurry to catch up to her, his breathing showed no signs of it. In fact, it didn't seem like he was breathing at all. There was an eerie stillness to him, even as he bent down towards her. His eyes gazed over her form as his hand wrapped around her ankle. With an almost mechanical motion, he pulled her closer to him. His other hand gripped her calf, and he forced her legs open, before kneeling between them.

[No worries. I'm just happy you're enjoying it. By all means, however you feel happy doing it, go for it. Also, good riddance to bad jobs. Hope things are better moving forward.]

As Olivia stood there, suspended, her mind raced. How could this have happened? How was she back here, in this place? Her legs trembled and her hands twisted, turning and gripping the vines holding her arms up in the air until her knuckles turned white. She couldn't understand what was happening, and it'd all happened so quickly, she'd not had time to steel herself. One second she was looking down the dimly lit corridor, the next the world had rushed and swirled around her, and she'd barely have time to exclaim her startled surprise before this familiar scene started to play. She was naked, tied up and now, all of a sudden, being fucked in both holes. Of course, she tensed up, clenched, squeezed down tight on the rods as they slid into her. In the end though, it hardly seemed to make any difference and, as the sensations she felt below took on a more phantom nature, a ghostly recollection of what she'd faced before, the overall flexing, clenching and shifting of her body's depths and inner muscles seemed to have little to no effect on what Olivia would actually feel.

There was nothing she could do and, as the scene played out, Olivia would find herself waiting for it to be over. Up until now, these visions, these hallucinations, had been relatively brief. However, this time, she'd find herself trapped for... well... what felt like an age. Panting and gasping, the deep breaths caused her chest to press in and out and, as she found herself squirming, unable to stop herself, she'd feel the rough, bark skin scratch and scrape against her ever stiffening nipples in a way that was not, she begrudgingly had to admit, wholly unpleasant. With her waist held in place, there was no wiggling or shifting aside as both Birch's main 'root' and assisting appendage curved upwards to assail Olivia's holes from her front and back and, as the ordeal carried ever on, the tips of Olivia's toes briefly leaving the earth with every twin thrust, growing ever quicker and rougher, the poor little heiress would find herself almost forgetting that her present situation was little more than a haunt. Indeed, as the mind began to go blank, and her mouth began to hang agape in an exquisite display of pleasure, it would become all the harder for her to think or remember anything.

A faint echo of the previous experience, Olivia would still, nonetheless find herself trapped between two invading forces, drilled and violated, double penetrated in both her ass and weeping snatch. She could still hear her own voice, moaning and crying out, but some internal awareness would still allow her to tell that it wasn't her, exactly, at least, not at present, making that noise. Her body had begun to shiver, and muscles all the way up her legs, to her abdomen and, to some extent, to her arms and shoulders, had begun to twitch, tensing up and firing on their own, seemingly at random. A sensation, not unlike a rampant storm in a jar had begun to build, swirling around her nether regions, but the faint gentleness of her current torment would not allow it to break. Even when a particularly good thrust, and a chance catching of one of her teats, caused a nipple to pinch in the crack of Birch's bark and a spark of pleasure to shoot through her, Olivia would not find herself relieved. Instead though, what would happen, is something altogether just as embarassing and mortifying, at least, for this little heiress.

Sounding out just as a brief, well timed, possibly even deliberate, pause in the faux groans of delight fell, Olivia would finally break her silence. Escaping out from between her soft, luscious lips, there would come a noise somewhere between a whimper and a moan and, as soon as the lustful mewl reached her ears, the shivering teen would feel a terrible shock. In an instant, her hazy mind would click that it was her that had just made that sound and, after the initial jolt, in the back, a treacherous question arose. Had she been making that noise all along? In the past, at this point, on this thrust, when this had all happened the first time, Olivia had gasped, with her voice becoming trapped in the back of her throat, but here and now, during this fainter, gentler reliving, she apparently had cause to squeak instead.

Almost as if to let Olivia go the moment she made a sound, as if her torment had been drawn out until she'd had the chance to figure out just how aroused, sexually charged and generally fucked she was, the illusion world around her would rush away and fade. Restraints gone, body weakened, she'd crumple, like a sack of cloth dropped to the floor. Dropping to her knees, legs spread, she'd feel the moisture soaking through her long socks and panties as her entire lower half slumped down into the quickly cooling pool of her juices below her. She was wearing clothes again, which was a detail she hardly noticed, as her teats poked through her bra and soaked, practically see through, shirt. Gasping, huffing, trying to catch her breath, Olivia's shaking hands nervously, instinctively, went to the front of her skirt, patting and keeping it down as it sprawled around her. The mind of this remarkable genius wasn't really working at its usual level of brilliance right now. Her expression was almost blank, save for a sort of mindless arousal, and as her gaze, at first, fell to the ground, it'd take a moment for her to notice the figure before her.

Her reactions were slow and hesitant. When she gradually raised her head, the first thing she naturally noticed was the long, throbbing cock and, this time, as she made the journey upwards to gaze at his face, she'd find herself waylaid, delayed, even longer on this bulging member than ever before. In fact, were one watching closely, one might have even caught the way her lips parted slightly, thoughts and impulses worming their way through her head and, even as he began to move, Olivia would find herself in some sort of lustful daze. The light she'd bought with her had fallen to the ground and rolled a little way away, so the illumination they still had shining their way by chance, shone upwards, blanketing the man/creature in shadows. Though she squirmed, some level of sense and thought returning briefly to her, for Olivia it would be like trying to move through jelly.

"Mmm... n-noo..."

Her voice was as quiet and weak as she was. She shifted, her movement's still suggesting some desire to get away. However, as the man reached down and took hold of an ankle, the young girl would fail to get away, lacking the strength to even get back up, onto her feet, let alone evade him and, as he began to pull her closer, she found herself falling back, hands reaching out behind her to catch her. She was shaking, trembling all over, and her muscles didn't seem to want to work the way she wanted. Olivia was still recovering from that latest vision, but time, apparently, had been a factor and, in all the time it'd taken to get free of that illusion, this man had already gotten himself were he needed to be, with no need to run, no need to chase, just a calm, relaxed walk. Pulled out from under her, out towards him, the strong, yet gentle grasp of this man already had one of her legs and, as he gripped the calf of that leg also with his other hand, lifting and spreading, Olivia would find herself steadily forced onto her back, laid down and helpless beneath him.

At this point, her mind wasn't really working all that well. She wasn't thinking about what clever thing she could do, or how to get away. Rather, the only thing going through Olivia's head was the actual thought of getting away, the ongoing battle against the lingering pleasures still effecting her body, and the fearsome suppression of both her instincts and her current state of arousal which, she somewhat suspected, was a pretty major factor effecting her ability to move and get away. Fortunately, one might say, she wasn't really focused on the fear of that this man's rod, in particular. She wasn't panicking over the size, or about this man's powerful, overwhelming presence. Her small stature and her puniness, whilst more of a factor in her previous state of anxiety, didn't really have as much of a place anymore. All she knew now, was she needed to get away.

Fighting hard, managing to get at least some of her muscles to move the way she wanted, Olivia managed to get her remaining leg out from underneath her, out from underneath the weight of her own body where it'd briefly folded up and had been trapped. A need for more comfortable positioning had been some assistance there, but she would now have herself at least one limb with which to fight. Unfortunately, all she could do at this point, would be to push the sole of her foot down on the thigh of the kneeling man and try to push away, a vain and fruitless effort. Her arms were of no use. All she could do with them right now was try and support herself, push her upper body up, and get herself so she could look down. At one point, she managed to get her left hand down his way, but all she could think to do was to cater to the only random impulse firing at that time, and so, in this situation, of all situations, she would try to push down the front of her skirts to hide her underwear from sight, face still blushing a hot, burning red. Was this man the same creature that'd been making her see things? Had trapped her, made her relive things? Or was it just another apparition? Either way, it felt real and, with her current, weakened state, it wouldn't appear as if anything she could do would stop it.

263 watched intently as Olivia lived out her memories of violation. It didn't need to pay much attention to the scene playing out in her mind - it had partaken of that segment of her memories plenty of times before. What it focused on now was her real body. Unseen by the girl's corrupted sight, its eyes hovered closely in front of her, taking in every inch of the scene with delight and lust. 263 had trapped plenty of girls in memories or fantasies of their own rape, but few had responded so alluringly as the slender woman in its mental grasp now. Her mouth was agape in soft pants, her soft pink tongue visible and tantalizing. The perfect curve of her well formed breasts rose and fell as her breathing grew heavier, and her nipples became ever more visible as sweat turned her shirt translucent. Her muscles, free in reality though bound in her own mind, were twitching and shivering with pleasure and fear and need and helplessness. In many ways, the hapless girl looked as though she were actually being fucked.

That illusion was not lost on her sex, either. 263 could smell her arousal, moistening her lips. Her pussy was practically a river now, wetting her clothing in her sweet juices. How 263 longed to soak up that nectar, and fill the hole it flowed from. The monster's tentacles twitched, themselves. If it were to take her now, her cunt would undoubtedly be tight and warm, and welcome it with a warm embrace as it ravaged her nubile body for hours and days. Watching the girl squirm from the mere pheromone-enhanced memory of violation tested all of 263's patience, and it felt on the verge of giving up the rest of the chase, revealing itself and ravaging her right there, for all she was worth. But then she moaned.

It wasn't a real moan. It was a small thing, short and cute. But its meaning was unmistakable. It was a sound born of pleasure. And while a raktar's instincts would have been to rape her mouth just for uttering a sound, the experiences 263 had accumulated gave it so much more weight. This was the moment it adored - when a girl's high-minded reluctance was undermined by her natural sluttiness. And this girl knew it. Right away, it could see the fear in her mind - the uncertainty and the confusion. 263 knew it had her right where it wanted her.

It was at that moment that the vision fell away, and Olivia was back with herself, the reality of her lustfulness, and the erect man reaching down for her. His movements were deliberate, allowing her at least enough time to fall gracefully to her back as he took a firm charge of her legs. But once he had her there, he worked swiftly, and without hesitation.

Her left thigh was the first thing he turned his attention to. His hand started all the way down by her calf, but it quickly began working up - or down, in her orientation. His fingers were firm, but not callous. They felt like the kind of fingers made for caressing a woman - gentle, but domineering; graceful, but all-encompassing. Most importantly, in contrast to the specters she'd just experienced, they were real, or at least they felt it. Those unmistakably present fingers worked their way along her leg, slicking themselves in her juices. Drenched as she was, there was no friction between their skin.

Fingertips became a palm as he grasped her thigh in his whole hand, squeezing, caressing, teasing the nerves of her skin. He worked his way up and down, but every pass drew him closer and closer to her panties. The farther he went, the more he spread her legs, gaining a better and better view of her soaked underwear. No doubt he could see the outline of her pussy, if not more, through the sheer garment. And yet, he remained unhurried, even as his cock visibly twitched in appreciation. By the time he reached the edge of her panties, his hands were as drenched as her legs. There, his fingers lingered, a hair away from the only barrier between her sex and whatever he wanted to do to it.

Soft, yet firm, Olivia's delicate flesh yields ever so slightly as dark fingers sink gently into the skin of her calves and thigh. Nothing too rough, or harsh, save for the spot where her ankle is gripped firm enough to prevent escape, the subtle caress of the spare hand moves slowly over both the wet and dry parts of this silky, hazelnut canvas and, over the parts where the touch drags and stretches her, ever so slightly, the flawless skin of the young heiress gently sinking back into place, one can see in the wake and trail a neigh indiscernible shiver as her skin undergoes a sort of goose bump effect, one that leaves her every nerve and cell fully awakened and, one should suspect, entirely ready for pleasure. Her hairs, if she'd had any on that smooth, perfectly waxed surface, would have stood on end and, as her leg is lifted even higher, she finds her mind fleeting to the terrifying, yet exciting prospect of what this man's tongue would do to her if it took to the part of her leg already so close to his face.

All in all, Olivia was still partially reeling from her latest bout of 'flashback illusion' and, with every inch of her still shaking, not to mention close, feverishly aroused and near climax; as a tantalising drop of water hanging at the mouth of a tap of a sink is ready to fall with a bit of extra flow following on behind, come a good nudge, or a careful finger in just the right place, this young woman was in no state to muster much in the way of fight or control. Instead, all she can bring to bear is a sort of frantic scrambling in an attempt to get away but, as her left leg is raised higher, the man's positioning and basic movements put her in an increasingly harder place from which to get away and, as she tries to turn sideways to better push away with her right foot, planted firmly on his left thigh, she feels her body suddenly slide all the quicker towards him, across the dusty, slightly moistened (by her) floor and, in an instant, she feels her right foot, and calf slip by, past his left side as the inside of her right knee joint bumps against his left thigh, his big, black, hard, throbbing manhood now there, so close, throbbing with blood and heat and veins and a sort of power that, even now, she can feel just... feel, radiating against her. She didn't even need to look down, she knew it was there, standing parallel to her own raised thigh.

A little squeak escaped her. There'd been a roughness, perhaps unintentional, but nonetheless there'd been a moment and something in her heart had leapt. Of course, she tensed up again, clenching her body expecting something immediately. However, instead, fingers would turn to palm and, with a quiet, gentle, almost loving touch, a sort of teasing massage would begin, slowly, up and down her leg, across her thigh, getting ever close to her thoroughly soaked and, by this point, nearly transparent panties. It wasn't exactly what she'd expected but, as her brain managed to figure what had happened, or hadn't happened, a part of her couldn't help but think to itself, and curse, her usual choice of pornog- erm... 'adult entertainment'. The men in her videos always took their time, teased, toyed, played. Hell, she'd watched one where it'd been a good forty minutes before the poor naked woman, blindfolded, tied, arms above her head, lied back on the bed, actually got anything aside from... well... she didn't want to think about it, the tantalising, the 'torture', fingers slowly sliding up her sides, unknown touches landing anywhere, lips and feather touches (sometimes literally a feather) on her teats and clit...

Her leg twitched, and she found herself gasping as her captor found a particularly sensitive spot in the inside of her knee. In some ways, the experience was relaxing, when it wasn't making her shiver and flinch. After all, she'd done a lot of running and climbing today, and her muscles had begun to burn. In fact, in other circumstances, this might have been quite enjoyable, having a nice, strong, gentle grip slipping over her calves and thighs. Certainly, especially after physiotherapy, which is a thoroughly exhausting and painful process, Olivia had likely more than once imagined a figure, such as this, performing a nice massage for her after, though, depending on what mood she was in, sometimes it would be a nice, gorgeously shaped blonde woman instead. In the end though, the ongoing foreplay was a bit too much and, whilst one side of her was frustrated at the lack of immediacy with which this black, muscular stallion was taking her, and another part of her knew how this impatience and powerlessness was actually part of the appeal, with domination and control on the part of the man forcing the submissive to the point where she practically has to beg, kept under tight control as she squirms and wiggles, the side of her that was opposed to the entire experience would have its opening and, still blushing profusely, shy, unable to look his way, Olivia would at least be able to start on her more focused, well thought out escape plan.

What did she have? She still had her taser, in her purse. That said, given their intimate 'grapple' at present, she had to consider whether it would be such a good idea to use it. She could throw something at him. Her torch? Her phone? She doubted whacking him with her bag would have much affect.

"MMM!"

As he started yet another slow, ever upward moving stroke of her thigh, Olivia's thoughts would find themselves interrupted as his knuckles brushed, ever so slightly against the outer most parts of her labium, through her panties. It would be accidental, or so it seemed, but it would be enough to have shiver and let out an unintentional, humming sigh of pleasure. The slight shock had her back in the moment and, as she panted heavily and passionately, the poor heiress would find herself struggling for a moment or two to think straight.

"P-please... l-let me go..."

The words came out feeble and, given the level of success she'd had so far, it didn't seem as if something like that was going to work now. Still, she'd find herself saying it. A glance back up at his face revealed the same, blank, reaction-less expression as before, showing nothing but want and primal lust and, in the end, it would seem to Olivia as if he wasn't even capable of speech. In fact, from what she'd seen, it didn't seem as if he had the ability to do anything other than this; a sort of loving, sexual worship of her.

Well then... She tightened the grip around the handle of her torch... if he wouldn't listen to reason then she'd have to do something. She had two hands and, whilst she wasn't the most powerful of opponents, she was sure with her supreme level of flexibility she could still give him a good, hard whack to the face, even in this position. All she needed to do was wait. She didn't know what he was going to do next, but the moment she had an opening, the moment she figured she'd have the chance to get out of his grip, she was going to take it.

For a long time after he began, the man only continued his steady, deliberate, agonizingly slow exploration of her thighs, teasing her nerves and her lust, seeing how she'd react to the faintest pleasure, given what her mind had just been subjected to. When she moaned, he said nothing. When she slid onto her side, he shifted his grip and continued with her new position. Even when she looked down at his cock, he continued as if her participation meant nothing. And yet, despite his seeming indifference to her participation, his actions held nothing but patience and apparent regard for her pleasure. His every touch seemed perfectly honed to slowly inch her lust towards its limits, and the way his fingers traced her curves, he seemed to be exploring her through his touch, almost like she was some holy relic.

All the while, his cock stood at the ready, hard and throbbing. She wasn't wrong to believe she could feel its presence against her, and the man did nothing to alleviate it. If anything, it seemed to grow closer by degrees as he toyed with her, like a sword dangling over her head. Olivia could see its full glory easily from her prone position. It was just as big as it had been in her videos, if not bigger. And she had seen full well what the mighty lance had done to trained actresses. If this "man" decided to stop playing nice, and give the heiress a solid fucking, his mass would ravage her body, stretching her cunt like nothing ever had. And it wasn't just the size. The man's vigorous performance once the fucking had begun was well documented. If and when he penetrated her and took her, she would be getting fucked for a long time, and savagely.

And yet, he never ran out of patience, never jumped right to the main event. He didn't even seem to properly respond to her pleasure, the way one might expect a normal person to. It was only when she spoke, when she asked him to stop, that he reacted. When that happened, he paused, and looked straight into her eyes.

This was the moment 263 had been waiting for. He knew the lust in the young woman's mind, and the rationality that fed her reluctance. What he didn't know, was which would be stronger in the end. Plenty of girls he'd taken would be begging for it by now. Had she been one of them, he likely would have revealed his tentacles right there, ripped off her clothes, and raped her for days on end. But no, she had begged for mercy. In the slow sexual torture, her reason had prevailed, and she'd sought salvation. Even now, it could tell she was searching for an escape, plotting her counter attack and awaiting her moment. Olivia was still clinging to her dignity.

263 loved women who clung to their dignity, because it was so much fun to assault.

A chance for escape wouldn't come for the girl. The man moved in a sudden lurch, reaching down and grabbing her shoulder. With her already on her side, it was easy enough to roll her the rest of the way onto her stomach. For a moment, she'd be pinned down by his grip, held down by his firm hands. Then, she'd feel his chest against his back, and his weight became the main thing preventing her movement. He was massive, and all of it was muscle, bearing down on top of her. He wasn't quite crushing her, but it was close. At the very least, she was pinned, and not comfortably. Then, his hands reached around her, and seized her breasts.

In an instant, worship turned to wrath, and exploitation. There was no more gentleness, patience, or regard for her in his touch. He mauled her tits, groping them forcefully through her blouse. His massive mitts covered her modest bust, and the motions of his palms and his fingers strained her top. His weight was partially balanced on his elbows as he attacked her chest, vigorously plying her mounds while keeping her body completely under his control. All the while, his cock pinned between his abs and the small of her back, reminding her that when he was done with her tits, her pussy was likely next.

Until he responded to her words, Olivia didn't even think of this person/thing as someone with whom she could converse. Indeed, based on his actions, it didn't seem as if he could even understand her and yet, when those dark, glistening eyes looked up, staring directly into her, she'd feel a jolt as her heart skipped a beat. It would almost be as if this thing could indeed understand her and, with this, even though her vision strictly functioned on a camera/display system (of a sort), she would actually find herself stricken by this one glance. Usually, there would be this strange sense of alienation between the real world and what she was 'seeing' and, due to the digital aspect of Olivia's 'sight', in some ways, it would be more like looking through a web camera then one's actual eyes. True, she could use it to navigate the world around her, but it wasn't really vision, in the classical sense. However, as his gaze suddenly rose to look her straight in the 'eye', that usual sense of detachment, of distance, it would prove to be nothing at all in this time and place and, in the brief moment their eyes met, she would find herself speechless, words firmly stuck.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and, perhaps, in that moment, she would have had the chance to strike out. Instead though, such was the shock she'd experience from that single, penetrating gaze, all she'd manage is a startled yelp and, in one swift movement she'd find herself down, in the dust. Both hands splaying down in front of her to try and catch herself, the torch in her right slips from her grip and, only by chance, would the rolling of it come to a stop so as to keep the the light upon the two of them. Of course, for a brief moment, she'd try to reach out for it but, with him quickly baring down on her, she'd soon discover that the tool was just out of reach and, with him grasping her breast roughly, she would find herself with other, more immediate concerns.

"NKHH! Ah... n-no... please, I... n-not so rough."

In that initial moment, her reaction was that of discomfort. However, as she felt the warmth of that throbbing cock spread across her back those clenched teeth of hers would soon part and, little by little, a deeper panting, so very close to a moan, would begin to rise. Legs wiggled and squirmed, thighs rubbed together. At this point it was clear that she still had some degree of fight within her. However, everything she managed to do from this point would only prove to be enfeebled and, fumble and muddle around all she wanted, these little acts would ultimately prove to be ineffectual.

The upper half of her body rising up, hands pressing down, her back would curve almost 90 degrees as she found herself seized by the teats. Weight of his body effectively pinning down the lower half of her body, every so often, amidst the gasps and pants, Olivia would try, with a spare hand, to briefly wrench him away in some short, aimless attempt. However, despite her remarkable level of flexibility, even something as seemingly simple as this 'cobra pose' would prove a challenge for her and, sometimes not even reaching his arms, her hand would time and time again, in no time at all, find itself back down on the floor as she continued to shiver and wince.

Eventually, with him ever pressing down upon her, she'd have to fall down to her elbows and, delicate buttons of her top straining against his mighty grip, she couldn't help but tremble as her roughly kneaded and massaged her breast. This heat and musk bearing down on her, it would become increasingly hard to breath without inhaling deep this hot, humid, meaty scent. Her own scent mixed with his, some part of her mind imagined just how much of this smell was, in fact, that monstrous cock of his and, as he only pressed himself harder against her, she would only feel the heat of that bulging, blood filled member as it squashed hungrily against the small of her back. Moisture of her sweat making the thin fabric of her top stick to her skin, it would almost be as if she could feel that rod pressing directly against her and, in that one, sensitive spot just below where the deadened scar tissue on her back ended, Olivia couldn't help but suffer an almost hyper awareness of that things presence.

In the end, that warm, soft yet firm, bulk of flesh on her back would be the main thing that robbed her of her levelheadedness and, with juices running freely from her, she found herself reaching up, with one hand, towards the back of this Goliath's head and neck. Her aim had been to grab him somehow, with the intent of forcing him away. However, as her shaking hands rose up, she'd find her fingers brushing softly over his face and, by the time her limb was in position, her hand would instead close, almost passionately, around the back of his head, nails only lightly digging in and, of course, by that point, she'd be panting, hard. Around the small of her back, she'd feel a sort of pleasurable sort of tingle, and with the slightest bit of movement, she'd feel a gentle rush as that hot, needy rod grinned against her.

In her chest, she felt her heart pound and, as his heavy presence bore down upon her, dominating her with a powerful, primal bestiality, a part of her couldn't help but envision a sort of insatiable hunger on his part. Yes, indeed, her words had been understood yet, without so much as a simple capacity for words, he'd been seized by some sort of ravenous, maddening lust. Even as he'd teased her, it'd been all he could do to hold himself back, but now that she was his, pressed under his weight, there was nothing that would stop him from taking her. For some reason, some part of her, an increasingly larger growing part of her, found that irresistible, exhilarating even. That said, that other part of her, the part of her still in resistance to this, would only find this uncontrollable savagery all the more terrifying and, with the size of him and the fragile, meagerness of her in mind, she'd only find herself in a near panic at the prospect of him actually, really raversing her.

Ultimately though, Olivia's sounds and movements would only become all the more seductive and, as he lent all the deeper over her, those quiet, weak little attempts of hers to pull herself out from under him would only find themselves dwindling out into nothing. He'd moved from that gentle, easy going patience to something more hungry and urgent and, in the briefest of instances, a part of her had even asked, 'was it as if he could read her mind.' Still, nonetheless, breathing deeply, face flushed, ready to moan at the slightest trick, a burning, sexually feverish Olivia laid there and, with not even the briefest of reprieve since that vision of Birch had left her teetering on the edge and the relentless assault of this new assailant, it would seem as if she was more than ready for what was in store for her... even if the quietest and meekest of words from her still said otherwise.

"P-please... hah-hah... I... Haahh... I...I... C-... C-can't..."

If there was anything to this hulking, emotionless man other than primal lust and desire to savagely dominate her body, it was far from in control now. Whether by words, by thoughts, or simply by her raw sex appeal, Olivia had flipped a switch inside him. And as he lay on top of her, clawing sensually at her breasts, it was clear there would be no flipping it back until he was done with her. Done doing all the things a naked, muscular, lust-filled man and his massive erect cock could do to a nubile young woman such as herself. His weight bore down on her, pinning all but her uppermost body. She was trapped, immobilized, totally exposed. Pressed against the hard floor and soaking in her sweat, her clothes were totally vulnerable, yet the man's hands gave them no care or concern. From the way his fingers moved, it seemed as if he might rip her covering asunder at any moment, and expose her tits, quivering and naked, to be assaulted directly. But somehow, almost teasingly, he left her clothes intact, only molesting her through them.

Even with the layer of fabric between their skin, though, his hands were more than attentive. They squeezed roughly and thoroughly, laying pressure over every inch of her supple breasts in turn. As much as her clothing gave him the freedom, he rolled and lifted and spread her tits, massaging them as he pressed them back together, squeezing as he spread them apart. The attention that he had once given her thighs in slow, teasing increments, he was now concentrating on her chest a dozen times over.

All the while, 263 watched the woman writhe on the ground, losing the fight against her body's need. It could tell she wanted to fight, truly. But she was a woman, and 263 knew well how to supersede a woman's rationality. Olivia would learn that, and she would remember it well. Even now, it was learning all the ways it which it could force pleasure upon her, in which her mind could be overridden and her body hijacked by touch. With particular interest, it noticed the way her mind responded to the man's cock pressing into the small of her back. It had taken many women, and had explored all of them thoroughly. Rarely had it encountered a girl who was particularly sensitive there, of all places. And yet, there was no mistaking the way her mind lit up from even the illusion of pressure against it. Ever one to experiment, it extended its tentacles.

Olivia lay before the monster, prone and moaning. There was no man atop her, but there were tentacles wrapped around her waist, pinning her down. More pressed on her shoulders. But beyond that, she was unmolested. Nothing touched her breasts or her back but in her mind. 263 changed that. One single, thick tentacle floated over her, its bulbous head angling downward towards her. Gently, the beast pressed the tendril against the small of her back, where the man's cock should have been. It touched gently at first, and began to move in small circles. She wouldn't even notice the touch itself, only its effects. Gradually, it grew firmer. And as 263 applied more pressure, it released one of Olivia's arms. She wouldn't know it - inside her mind, she'd still feel herself pinned down completely by the hulking man. But in reality, her hand would be free to act as it wished.

Olivia's mouth hung agape as this hulk continued to grope and knead her breasts. Trapped beneath him, dominated by his strength, his weight, and his increasingly primal ferocity, this young heiress would find, little by little, that her resolve was crumbling. She was already aware that this roughness, this overwhelming, unwavering forcefulness was having an effect on her. Some part of her longed for this sort of submission after all, to just shut her mouth up, keep her head to the ground and put her ass up high so that she might be thoroughly ravished and bred, a man's beastly cock ruining her delicate little cunt. Mentally, the only thing holding her back would be her shame, her modesty and her stubborn sense of pride. Physically, her body was ready. Sweet, rich juices roll down the insides of her thighs, a swollen, hungry pussy quivers as it rubs slightly against her underwear, the sensitivity of her sex so aroused it makes her toes curl and uncurl. Deep inside of her she can feel an itch growing to an ache as her womb demands seed, and though she had her own misgivings, her body had plans of its own.

Of course, this was all something Olivia could easily identify and could even have provided a detailed analysis of, any other time. In depth studies, research and academic sources, she could have given a lecture on the ways the body reacted to certain stimuli, how the primitive, lesser evolved parts of the mind could push aside higher brain functions in favour of more reproductive pursuits, both long term and in the moment. As both a lady and an academic, one would usually endeavour to be above such things. However, knowing these states was so very different from being there, in the moment, feeling it. Actually being in heat, being in this overwhelming state of arousal... thoughts of escape, or of retaining control, or some small semblance of dignity, it didn't take long for these things to disappear.

Now, as she laid there panting, the only thing that crossed her mind was the begging. 'Do it.' 'Please.' 'Fuck me into the ground.' Yet, as her mouth gaped, lower jaw rising and falling as she whimpered and occasionally groaned, she'd find herself stuck on that last boundary. As hot as she felt, as much as she desperately needed it, that stubborn, final inch refused to budge, refused to let her say out loud what was running through her mind. Instead, the best she'd managed was the occasional "Please" and "Fuck" which could be a simple expletive as it was an instruction. She wanted it, needed it, but her stupid pride, her ego, wouldn't allow her to say it. Feet scrabbled at the ground as she thought to lift her ass up for him. The panting and moaning became louder, so much so that she found herself gently biting the side of her hand, trapezium, base of the thumb she could have told you any other time. It didn't even occur to her that her hand was moving free, nor did she notice that the other arm was not. Instead all she could focus on was the feeling of this man's teasing and, as she laid there, it would only get worse as he apparently zoned in and focused on one area.

Wet with sweat and other sources of moisture, it wouldn't take much pressure to make that thin, white, now almost see through cotton of her uniform's shirt to stick tight to her dark, smooth skin. With about as much cover and protection on it as a single layer of vacuum sealed plastic wrap, that hot, firm flesh pressing against her would soon reveal a pleasant, gentle curve valley in which to nestle and, with her her back lightly arched and slightly raised, that new area for experimentation would be exposed.

An unusual place to be sensitive in the typical sense, the small of the back was still, for many, a fairly sensual area. Face to face, standing before one another, slow, careful fingers sliding up or down through this area, exploring the gentle valley of ones back would usually be considered an exciting, pleasing experience. For Olivia it would be a little more. The long line of skin all along the upper side of her back was scarred, not dead, but definately less to the touch in terms of feel. However, as one got down to that curve, just before you reached the start of her supple cheeks, that's where the nerves blazed. Here and now, it was a deathly, dreadful discovery for her foe to have made and, with it providing a little extra jolt to her heartbeat at the best of times, at this time and place it would mark the end as everything gave itself over, Olivia becoming putty in this 'man's' hands. With a few careful strokes, a tingle goes all the way down her spine, caressing her tailbone and twitching her nethers like a tug on a string. A little 'eep' escapes her, and she briefly has the chance to beg desperately between breaths.

"Ah... n-no... p-please, not there..."

Her voice is quiet, hushed and whispered, but it is without a doubt that what she has to say would only encourage this invader.

Pressing a little harder, striking with a bit more precision, Olivia would feel as this warm, muscular rod carefully, sensually massaged this one spot. A gasp escaped her. Knees wobbled, arms and entire body shook, and not unlike a cat being scratched on the back, she'd eventually let out a wobbling, purring sound. Not enough to make her cum, it would leave her unable to control her body, and as it continued a leg would spasm, kicking at random whilst, again and again, her hips would rock, thrusting up and down. Teeth actually dug into skin, and both her hands bunched into fists as her eyes turned skyward, eyelids fluttering.

Olivia wasn't the only one facing a dilemma as she was helplessly molested. 263 was a poised and efficient sexual predator. Most girls, it would have already stripped and taken already, stuffing their bodies with as many tentacles would fit. And Olivia would love that, it knew. It could see it, not just in her conscious thought, but in the way the signals ran up and down her nerves, flooding her senses with lust and pleasure. The Ventral Tegmental Area. 263 had learned of it while raping a particularly astute young student. It was the pleasure center of the brain, and Olivia's was shining with activity. It could hear it in her voice, see it in her gaping mouth, feel it in he way her back arched and her legs spasmed.


And then, there was the submission. The girl longed not just to be fucked, but to be totally dominated. To be held down and spread open, ravaged and rutted and used in every way her body could be used, quietly and obediently accepting every sexual interest her rapist had in mind, until she overflowed with cum, and was too defiled to move or think. 263 knew these things about her desires. It knew that she, on some level, knew them too.

And yet, she refused to accept it. She refused to beg. Her pride held her tongue in check, and for that, she didn't deserve it. Such a complete and perpetual fucking was only for good girls who knew how to let it happen. 263 wouldn't give her that until she gave in to her own desires of her own will.

And yet, it wanted her. The longer it molested her through her own mind, the more it desired her. Her dark, flawless skin shone through her sweat-drenched uniform, accented by the shadow of her crevices. The valley between her breasts darkened the space where her top stretched over her tits. Her long golden hair cascaded over her writhing back. Her curving rear wiggled as her supple hips twisted, trapped in its tentacles and the sexual prison of her own mind. 263's eyes saw all, and it desired her. More than that, it longed for her. It longed to cover her and hold her, prostrate her, shred her garments, claim her and fill her and fuck her in every way she could be fucked.

As its tentacle pressed against the small of her back, and kindled in her a new fire, the monster knew what it would do. It would force her to face her own desires, and then it would break her down to them. This game would end soon, but not here. Here, Olivia would only face herself. The pressure it placed on her back grew stronger, and it began rubbing more fervently, as the "man's" grip changed.

His fondling of her breasts was so enthusiastic, that at first it was hard to tell that one of his hands had moved. The other simply took over with doubled vigor, attending both. It would soon become more evident, though, as his fingers made themselves known on her stomach. They stroked her flat, tender belly a few times, and then moved down. It wasn't a slow, teasing descent. Their movement was targeted, and with great purpose. In seconds, his fingers were under her short, pleated skirt, and inside her drenched panties. They stroked her eager pussy lips only once, and then two of them plunged into her folds, spreading her love tunnel as they began to pump her. The man's weight lowered more heavily onto her, stifling almost all movement her pleasure-paralyzed body tried to make, as he began to finger her boldly and forcefully.