I Woke Up Trapped Between Soledad’s Sheets

I had no idea how many hours I’d slept. I woke up needing to go to the bathroom and, before anything else, I felt it: Soledad’s cock was still between my ass cheeks, soft, wet, but still thick, huge, a presence my body recognized even if my head was slow to make sense of what had happened.

My movement woke her. She stroked my chest with the tips of her fingers and, with a sweetness that scared me more than her strength, murmured against my nape.

—What’s wrong, baby? Did you sleep well?

—I want to go to the bathroom —I answered almost voicelessly.

I felt her lips move down my neck, slowly, and her warm breath on my ear.

—Come on, love. I need to go too.

We got up. She guided me to the bathroom with one hand on my waist, as if I were something of hers she didn’t want to let fall. She sat me on the toilet and stood in front of me.

—Do whatever you need to, my love. We’re going to have a beautiful afternoon.

She turned on the shower, took off the little bit of clothing she had on, and waited. Steam began to fog the mirror while I tried to make my body respond with her watching me.

When I finished, she helped me stand, kissed me on the lips, and took me under the hot water. She ran soap over my groin, my armpits, my back. Then she went back down, soaped my opening, and slid a finger in to open it, letting the lather get inside.

—You’re coming out good as new, daddy —she whispered in my ear.

Then I felt a warm, firm stream washing the soap away, almost entering me. She was rinsing me with her own piss and laughing softly, satisfied, while I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t say anything.

She turned me around with both hands on my waist. Her hands kept sliding down to my ass while her mouth brushed mine, first barely, then with a force that allowed no response. Her cock, hard again, rubbed against my groin and almost reached my hole.

We stayed like that for several minutes, until she shut off the taps. She wrapped me in a bath towel, dried me with a tenderness that contrasted with everything else, dried herself off in front of me, sensual, and with a conspiratorial smile took me by the hand.

—Come on.

***

Back in the bedroom, she checked her phone, which was still plugged in on the bedside table. She read some messages, opened a can of beer, set down the plate and her bag, and sat on the edge of the bed with her legs crossed.

—Mariela isn’t coming back —she said without looking at me, while taking some clothes out of the bag—. I’ve got you all to myself for the rest of the day.

Mariela’s name hit me like a slab of stone. She was the only person who knew where I was that afternoon, the one who had given me the address, the one who had talked me into going upstairs. If she wasn’t coming back, nobody was going to knock on that door, nobody was going to ask for me. I went over, slowly, the few hours I remembered clearly: the narrow elevator, the dim apartment, the first beer I’d accepted out of politeness. After that, almost nothing. Just scattered fragments and the feeling that each one of those fragments had been planned long before I arrived.

—It’s cold, baby. Put this on. —She handed me blue satin sleep shorts trimmed with lace and a sleeveless tank made of the same fabric.

She put on black lace panties and a matching top, garters from the same set, and finished covering herself with a white little slip that showed everything underneath. She moved knowing I was looking at her, that I couldn’t stop looking at her.

—Come here, love —she said, pointing to the spot beside her on the bed.

I sat down shyly, keeping my knees together. She brought a line up to my nose with the edge of a card and, with her other hand, the beer can. I took both things without thinking. Anything to avoid upsetting her.

—It’s three in the afternoon, chubby. Don’t you want us to make love all day? —She said it like an invitation, but it wasn’t a question.

I nodded, more out of fear than desire, though by then I no longer knew where one ended and the other began. Something in her voice, in the absolute calm with which she moved around the room, convinced me that any refusal would only make things worse. If I go along with it, this will end sooner, I kept telling myself, not entirely believing it.

She got up, went to the table for another can, and told me to wait. She came back at once, sat down, and put the beer in my hands, which were still tied.

—Here, love —she said, bringing the plate closer to me.

We stayed like that for several minutes, in silence, until the beer was gone. The room was starting to move slowly, the edges of things softening. Soledad fetched two more cans, set the phone camera up facing the bed, and sat back down beside me.

—I’m going to untie your hands —she announced, toying with the card between her fingers—. I’ve got your documents, your data, your socials, and several videos. So behave yourself.

She untied my wrists and told me to stand up. I tried. The room spun, my body wouldn’t obey me, and I sat back down again, stunned. She smiled and showed me some small pills in the palm of her hand, then pointed to the beer, as if letting me understand exactly what she’d given me and when.

—Come here —she repeated, leaning back against the headboard.

I obeyed.

***

She hugged me, stroked me, and we kept drinking and snorting for a long while. We kissed with an intensity that left me breathless; she filled my mouth with her saliva, said sweet and filthy things in the same sentence, and her hands roamed over my ass, my hole, my balls, as if memorizing every part of me.

—Lie down properly, love —she ordered.

She arranged me on my back and climbed up over my chest. Her cock searched for my mouth with an urgency that gave me no time for anything else.

—You’re so pretty. I love fucking you. You’re mine. My boyfriend. My slave.

Each word came with a deeper thrust. Her tip hit the back of my throat and made me gag, which she celebrated.

—What a gorgeous fuck I’m giving you, baby. You love this. Nobody’s ever going to do all this to you the way I do, my little faggot.

Then came a deep groan, almost animal, and I felt her cum straight into my throat. I choked, coughed, and still she didn’t let me move.

—Swallow it all. Every last drop —she ordered.

I obeyed because there was no other choice. She slid out of my mouth, reached for a cold beer, and settled back beside me, stroking my hair like a dog that had just been rewarded.

We kept going a little longer, between sips and caresses, until her finger worked its way inside me again and her cock, recovered now, rested against my thigh. Her tongue played with my earlobe while she spoke.

—The best part is still to come, my love.

***

She sat up against the headboard and ordered me to kiss her. When I leaned in, she arranged me straddling her, and her tongue dismantled me all over again. Her hands shoved the satin shorts aside and once again I felt that hot, naked flesh forcing its way between my ass cheeks, with nothing in the way.

—Do you like how I fuck you raw, my little faggot? —she asked, laughing against my mouth—. Do you like my cream? Does anything scare you, love?

Her words accompanied each upward thrust. She fucked me like that for a long time, looking me in the eyes, until, without leaving me, she made me turn and left me on my side, spooning me. She drew my legs together, folded me into a fetal position, and shoved in again, this time with everything clenched tight, her huge cock trapped inside.

The pain was unbearable. She’d almost pull all the way out and then slam back in harder, again and again, while I clenched the sheets in my fists.

—Look how I took your virginity —she said, and showed me her cock stained with blood, proud, as if it were a trophy.

She put me face down and kept going even harder. She turned my face toward her and kissed me, pressed against my back, all her weight on me.

—Kiss me, because we’re going to share something for life, my poor little faggot —she murmured—. Take my cream, since you love it.

She shoved her tongue all the way into my mouth and shuddered as she came inside me for the second time. I felt the heat spreading, her cock throbbing, and for one perverse instant I no longer knew whether what I felt was terror or something I didn’t dare name.

***

It was eight in the evening. Until two in the morning, Soledad fucked me three more times. In between she gave me drinks, cleaned me, stroked my hair, and whispered that I was hers, that I always had been, that this afternoon hadn’t been a kidnapping but the day I finally understood what I was.

When she finally dressed and gathered her things, she stopped at the door. She had the phone in her hand, that camera that had recorded everything, and a smile that chilled my blood more than any threat.

—Don’t forget me —she said.

And she left, leaving me alone in a bed I no longer recognized as a safe place, with the certainty that that afternoon had not ended. It was barely the beginning of something that would follow me for the rest of my life.