Page 99 of Mine To Hunt

He waits, patient but firm, his body still pressed tight against mine, not moving away even an inch. The silence stretches between us until I cannot take it anymore. "Spread them. Now."

I obey slowly, my legs parting little by little. Shame and excitement battle inside me, making my thighs tremble with the effort. I feel so exposed even though I am still fully dressed.

He runs his finger from my thigh up under my skirt to my pussy, slow and deliberate. He traces the edge of my panties. "Look at you." He says softly. "Pathetic little slut. Already so wet for me and I have barely touched you."

I feel my face burn even hotter. Embarrassment floods through me. "I’m not… I don’t want this. Please stop."

He pinches my clit lightly through the fabric, making me gasp sharply. "Why are you so wet then? Does being scared turn you on? Does knowing I could do anything to you right here make your pussy drip like this?"

I do not answer at first. I feel too embarrassed and overwhelmed by the conflicting feelings. I shake my head a little. "No… please, I really don’t want this."

He pinches again, firmer this time, and rolls my clit between his fingers. "Answer me."

"Yes." I whisper, my voice breaking with shame. "But I don’t want to feel this. Please, just let me go."

He notices I am looking at his hand in the mirror. No gloves tonight. Or maybe he removed them before entering the stall. "Good girl. I want you to feel every single touch. I want you to know exactly who is making you feel this way."

He slides my panties to the side and runs his bare fingers along my folds, spreading my wetness. "You don’t like this but your pussy is begging for me."

He starts rubbing my clit in slow, firm circles. His fingers quickly become soaked. The pleasure builds fast, mixing with the fear in a way that makes my head spin and my knees feel weak. I bite my lip hard to stay quiet.

Suddenly he slides one finger inside my pussy, pushing in deep and curling it. I let out a soft moan before I can stop it. My walls clench around him tight.

He shushes me immediately, his voice right by my ear, low and dangerous. "Shh. You would not want others to know you are getting finger fucked in a bathroom stall by a stranger, would you?"

I shake my head.

"Then keep quiet or I will make you scream loud enough for everyone to hear."

I hold onto his arm to brace myself. My legs shake badly. I whisper, "Please… stop. I can’t do this." But he doesn’t.

He inserts a second finger, stretching me slowly. He thrusts them in and out while his thumb keeps circling my clit. "That is it. Take my fingers like a good little slut. Does it feel good when I fuck you like this?"

I moan softly, unable to lie. "Yes… But please, I shouldn’t…"

He speeds up a little, curling his fingers to hit that spot inside me that makes pleasure shoot through my entire body. "Louder. Tell me you like being my little slut in this dirty stall. Tell me you are scared but you still want my fingers inside you."

I’m scared, but the pleasure is too strong to deny now. Tears prick my eyes. "I… Please don’t make me say it."

"Say it."

"I like it. I’m scared but I want it. "

He curls his fingers again, rubbing that spot harder and faster. "Good girl. You’re dripping down my hand." He pauses, then says "Look at yourself in the mirror. Watch how you fall apart for me. Needy Little Prey. You hate me but your pussy is clenching around my fingers like it never wants me to stop."

I watch in the mirror. My face is flushed dark red. My lips are parted. My eyes look glassy with lust and fear. The sight makes me even more embarrassed, but it also pushes me closer to the edge. I feel so ashamed of my own body.

He leans in, his masked face beside my ear. "Cum for me. Show me how much you need this even when you are terrified of me. Cum on my fingers like the scared little slut you are."

His fingers move faster and deeper. His thumb presses hard on my clit. I cannot hold back anymore. The orgasm crashes over me hard. My body shakes violently.

I moan softly as my walls pulse and squeeze around his fingers again and again. Waves of pleasure roll through me, leaving me weak, confused, and deeply ashamed.

He slowly removes his fingers from inside me and wipes them on my thigh. I hear him open the stall door and leave without another word.

I stay there, leaning against the sink. My mind spins wildly. I was so scared the whole time, but it felt so good. How can I feel pleasure from the same man who terrifies me?

The confusion and shame wash over me in big waves. I feel dirty and guilty, like I let it happen even though I said no. But my body is still humming with the aftershocks. I do not understand myself at all.