Invading Paris - Part 1

Invading Paris - Part 1

Her head throbbed. It felt like it was physically increasing and decreasing in size. She didn’t move as she awoke, because she didn’t want to make the throbbing worse. She, quite simply, couldn’t think straight. It took all of her effort for her to remember that she’d been out at all last night, never mind the details, but even with that, she was certain that she’d done nothing to deserve this size of a hangover.

As she slowly became more aware of herself she realised that she was sat up. She lifted her head, and it was then that she realised that she wasn’t in her hotel. She knew this because her head was inside a sack. She opened her bulging and aching eyes to see nothing but pitch blackness. The sack over her head was blocking out all light. Her heart pounded.

Every move she made hurt and her body ached, but she tried with all the might she could to stand up, but to no avail. The sack over her head had been tied in place around her neck, not so tight as to cause her distress while breathing or swallowing, but tight enough to block out light and ensure any amount of head shaking to remove it would prove fruitless. There was a strap across her shoulders that held her to the chair, and her arms were strapped in place around the back of the chair at her wrists. Across her waist, a similar strap to that around her shoulders held her in place, and her legs were held apart by restraints at her knees and ankles. She was completely unable to move. She couldn’t stand, and trying to wobble the chair over proved utterly pointless as it was not only sturdy and strong, but apparently attached to the floor.

She began to cry. She wanted to scream but when she tried her voice simply cracked and croaked, and it felt as though her throat had been torn in two.

“Don’t cry Paris,” A voice near her said.

It was male, and old. It felt cold and sounded like gravel. There was an accent to. She bolted her head up painfully and tried to find where the sound was coming from, but without the ability to move, or see, it was pointless.

“You should be happy,” He continued. “I was instructed to ‘remove’ you. Killing you was not ruled out, and would have been much easier for me if I’m honest sweetheart.”

Her heart nearly stopped, and then it raced. She had stopped sobbing, but silent tears ran down her face, and she was barely breathing through her overwhelming fear. The pain in her head was still there, but it was a distant memory compared to the fear she was currently experiencing.

“Where am I?” She croaked.

“You need a drink Miss Hilton,” He said, as she finally recognised his English accent.

“Where am I?” She croaked again.

She heard running water, and it splashing into a glass. She thought of how amazing water would feel right now. How is would sooth so many of her aches and pains. But she knew this wasn’t a selfless gesture on the part of her captor. He could of killed her, he said so himself.

“You could call where you are, a basement,” His voice came. “But I wouldn’t. My basement is several soundproofed feet above our heads. Let’s call it...” He chuckled to himself here, “A dungeon.”

Her heart continued to pump a mile a minute, and now her breathing became rapid. She began to sob again, his voice cracking with each rasping breath.

He laughed.

“You need a drink, hold on.”

She felt it by her side and immediately began to struggle against her restraints without hope. She cried and allowed herself to really be afraid. She could felt it coming. He was going to hurt her in ways that she simply couldn’t even begin to imagine.

She felt something strange being wrapped around her head, and being tightened, firmly, around both the sack and over her eyes. She then felt the tie around her neck loosen. She began flinging her head back and forth wildly, but quickly stopped. Her head began to throb uncontrollably and she felt physically sick from the motion mixed with the fear. Her captor sighed at her, and then lifted the sack up over her mouth, and tied it in place with its drawstring just under her eyes.

“I don’t want you seeing me just yet,” He said softly, “But I’m not a monster. The drugs dehydrate you, and you probably feel a little sick. This water will help. Now stay still, I’ve put a straw in for you to make this easier.”

She felt the straw against her lips and contemplated whether or not to take the gesture for what he claimed it to be. She decided that it was either water, or poison, either would help her feel better right now. She sucked...

Icy cold water flooded her mouth and slid down her throat, coating the area that felt desert dry in glorious moisture. She once again began to cry, partially out of relief and joy at being alive, partially (and confusingly) out of utter fear of what was coming next. She felt droplets of water dribble down her chin as she cried, not tears, but the water from the glass as she struggled to keep it all in her mouth as she sighed in relief. All off her body felt drained of strength, and the water was so cold and refreshing that she was totally confused as to how she was meant to feel towards this man by her side.

“That better?” He asked.

She simply nodded. She refused to thank him. It sickened her just to acknowledge his existence.

He took away the glass and placed it down across the room and then he crouched back down at her side, where he had been before.

“I was paid to keep you out of the public eye. How I accomplished that feat was left entirely up to me, but I was hired because I’m the best. Where you are is a very long way away from where your security team thinks you are, and it’s going to be at least three more hours before they realise that you are gone at all. You’re several feet underground, in what is essentially a soundproof box of my own design and creation. No one but me knows it’s here, and only I know where the entrance is. Other than me, you are utterly, and totally, alone.”

He paused to let the last word sink in, and Paris Hilton, the world’s most famous “famous-for-being-famous” woman dropped her head into her chest in defeat. Her crying was once again silent, but this time it wasn’t fear, but complete hopelessness that had overwhelmed her.

“I’m not telling you this to scare you,” He continued, “I’m telling you because I want you to know that no matter what happens from here on in, you are my property. You belong to me and I can do with you as I wish. I have been paid incredible amounts of money to do things you wouldn’t ever even want to think about and I have more money than you could even dream of. As one of the richest women in the world, you should truly appreciate what I’m telling you there. I never have to work. I do it because I love it. I didn’t need the money I got for removing you from society, but quite honestly I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to do it. If they’d asked that I just kill you, I would’ve, but they didn’t. So now, you’re here, and you’re mine. The sooner you accept that and play by rules the easier things will be for you.”

The words washed over her. She knew he was telling the truth. She knew that her life as she knew it was over. She wanted to sigh. She wanted to cry. But she had lost the ability to do anything. The fight had totally left her and, for the moment at least, all she could manage was breathing.

He saw this. As he looked at her, her body language told him she was done. He never dreamed it would be this easy. This quick. He was now going to push it to its limit. The chair she sat on had missing slats in the seat and he had positioned her just so, in order to be able to access her pussy and butt through them. He smiled to himself and licked his lips in anticipation of his plan.

He moved to the back of the chair and slowly unhooked the restraints that held Paris’s hands in place. Her arms flopped lifelessly to her side, and he smiled at the thought of laying her over the table he had specially made to fuck her upon. He unhooked her shoulder restraints and walked around the chair to do the same with the strap around her waist. Swiftly, and without warning her elbow flung up and back, crunching into his groin. His knees buckled, and he fell to a knelling position on the floor by her side. Again she struck, and as his hands clutched his manhood as it burned with pain, her elbow smashed into the bridge of his nose. Tears filled his eyes and he began toppling backwards.

The fight was back. She had felt it flood back into her as he unhooked her hands. His over-confidence would be his downfall. She could live his slave, or die trying to escape. Sure, but what about option three? Escape and live. She focused on that and threw her hands up to free her eyes from their prison... But she couldn’t. The restraints had slowed the blood flow, and while her arms were operating at a strong enough capacity to destroy a man’s privates, her fingers just wouldn’t work for her. She couldn’t get them to lock on to the bag over her head... So she pushed. Using the palm of her hand she pushed the bag up, and slowly, light began flooding into her right eye, slowly she began to see out into the windowless room, with its bare concrete floor, its stainless steel furniture. By her side, she saw the shape of a man, balled up in agony, she couldn’t see his face at all, but as she tried in vain to shove the rest of her blindfold from her face she realised he was beginning to move. Rocking back and forth, he was growling through gritted teeth. As his noise became louder, and more guttural, she managed to get a hold on the bag. She ripped it from her face and let it fall to the ground, and she began fumbling at her waist strap, unhooking it much quicker than she’d expected, she moved to undo those around her knees.

Unfortunately, by this point, the man by her side, her captor was back on his knees, and as she gripped hold of the strap over her left knee, his fist swung into her stomach. The force of the punch folded her in half and she gasped for breath, like a fish out of water. Getting to one knee, he swiftly rose from the ground, swinging his lower knee into her forehead. The impact blinded her. All there was, was blackness all around her, inhabited by blinking white lights.

“You fucking stuck up little whore!” He growled. “You’re gonna pay for that very, very unwise little move!”

He slapped her across the face and her whole upper body toppled to the ground. She hung at an odd angle off the chair, as it was unable to fall and her legs were still strapped into place. Shooting pain sheered through her knees.

Grabbing her by the throat, her captor lifted her to her feet, and before she could re-focus her eyes, he thrust his head into hers. She crumpled, unconscious, back into the seat...


When Paris awoke she immediately opened her eyes. Unlike last time she was no longer blindfolded, but she was laid on her front, naked, atop a very cold stainless steel table. Her head ached where she had been hit, twice, with real force, and she struggled to move as her hands were handcuffed to the table and restricted any movement she tried to make. She swung her head back and forth to see if she was alone, but could see nothing behind her clearly. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that he was there, with his back to her, but she could see him in any real way. She tried to move her legs, but they seemed to be held apart by solid steel restraints just above the knees, preventing any kind of movement from side to side. Her pelvis hung over the edge of the table.

“You are now at the perfect fucking height,” Her captor’s voice came from behind her.

She tried to shift around, but nothing she did gave her a better view of him than she had already seen from the corner of her eye.

“The perfect height for what?” She replied, indignantly.

“Fucking, you dumb little bitch!” He growled back, “The perfect FUCKING height!! Before you had a choice! Before I was gonna take it slowly! Before you might have enjoyed it! But now... Now, I’m just going to fuck you in every hole you have without regard for your pleasure, your body, or your safety. You’re nothing to me but a wet warm hole to stick my cock in, you dirty little slut!”

Fear shot through her. Her nudity and compromising position had occurred to her, but she had staved off the idea that her captor would sink as low as to actually rape her. She tugged at the cuffs on her wrists, causing herself great pain at the same time. She wriggled her hips from side to side, in the vain hope that somehow she’d wriggle free, but the restraints holding her legs up kept her from gaining any real momentum.

As she struggled, he walked in-between her flailing legs. He looked down at her perfectly smooth pussy lips and felt a deep need to be inside them. He to, was naked, his hard cock stood straight and true in front of him and pulsed as he watched her buck against her restraints. Her butt moved from side to side in the most hypnotic way. Her struggling caused her breathing to increase and as she felt his presence she panicked. Her breathing was rapid, and she started to squeal.

“Please God! Please God! No.” She pleaded.

He grabbed her by her hips and pushed her down, against the table, then moving forward, he rubbed the head of his throbbing cock against her hairless pussy lips. She tried to buck him off with all her might, but the pressure on her hips was too much for her to move him.

“No... Please no,” She whimpered. “Please...”

Pushing her down with the palm of his left hand with enough force to stop her bucking entirely he used his right hand to guide his cock into her. He rubbed his bulbous cock head against her hot pussy and he was unsurprised to feel her lips beginning to lubricate. He’d done this before. He knew, no matter how afraid a woman was of being fucked against her will, her body would always betray her at some point. Just, not usually this quickly. He chuckled to himself as Paris realised what her own body was doing and her head dropped, with a thud, onto the steel. She began to weep, with juddering breaths, tears and sobs. She cried.

Gripping his manhood in his hands tightly, he slowly began to penetrate her soft, tight hole with his long, wide length. He was just over nine inches and he was girth-y for his size. As he eased himself into her (more for his own comfort than hers) he could feel her sobbing contracting the muscles in her cunt. He loved that feeling. Sliding himself in further, he let go of his cock, and instead grabbed her long blonde hair, and as he thrust his full length into her, her pulled her back as far as her restraints would allow. She screamed in agony, and his cock pulsed as her vaginal walls tightened around his thick shaft.

Pushing down on her lower back with his left hand and gripping her hair in his right, he slid his throbbing member in and out of her now dripping pussy. She was screaming in pain, and tears were streaming down her face, as he began to push himself deeper, harder and faster into her hot hole. As he gained speed her let go of her hair, and her body dropped with a thud onto the cold steel of the table he had designed specifically. It was the perfect height for his cock to intrude upon any girls slit, were she strapped to it.

He gripped both of her hips and began pounding away at her hot and wet little cunt. Thrusting himself into her as she bellowed with fear, disgust and pain... But he could hear pleasure to. She was beginning to enjoy it. Her lack of control, his forceful nature, the brutality of his huge cock impaling her tiny hole. She could feel it to. She could hear herself beginning to enjoy this hell of an experience, and that recognition made her sick, but she got wetter. His massive rod, ramming in and out of her twat was mercilessly rubbing her G-spot and making her dizzy with excitement. As her crying subsided and she gripped the sides of the steel platform she laid upon, her breathing rapid, she suddenly felt wave upon wave of pleasure ripple through her body. She shook violently, almost in an epileptic fit of orgasm, as her pussy contracted around its violent invader and her slippery cum dribbled out of her, dripping to the floor and coating her captors’ erection. His large muscular hands were almost wide enough to wrap entirely around her tiny waist, and as he dug his fingers into her hip sockets, he pushed his thumbs into the base of her spine and, feeling her orgasm, let out an almighty bellow of his own. He increased his speed as he ploughed his rock hard cock deep into to her. Her skin around his hands went white under the pressure of his grip, and her buttocks twitched, as he watched himself move in and out of her. He slowed himself down once again, and smiled.

“You liked that, didn’t you? You dirty fucking slut. You love getting raped don’t you?” He said, as her body went limp and she breathed heavily; lay out flat on the ever more heated steel. Her body causing moisture and condensation to form all around her. “You’re not going to fucking like this. I guarantee it.”

She had tried to pay attention to what he was saying, but never had she had such an intense orgasm, or one that came upon her so quickly. She didn’t know the man currently violating her body, she had no idea what he looked like, or his name, but he was a dominant sexual predator and she was entirely at his mercy, and as much as she hated herself for it, she absolutely loved his dick inside her hot, wet pussy.

Such a shame for her then that he now removed it. Coated in her pussy juices (her intense orgasm had created them in abundance) he moved up slightly and pushed himself against the little puckered mouth of her anal cavity. Her body, entirely drained of energy from her orgasm, twitched in an effort to keep him out of her but to no avail, he simply held her down once more with his left hand and pushed against that tiny, tight hole with his throbbing hardon, and as his bulging head began to penetrate her ass Paris hummed out a noise of discomfort and disapproval. Her whimper only solidified his already solid resolve to continue her humiliation and sexual abuse, and he pushed against her harder. Again, moving slowly to ensure his own comfort, he used her own sexual oils as lubricant to insert his oversized penis into her out hole and slide inside her. As she whimpered in pain, he let out a low, satisfied growl.

She felt him entering her ass, and knew that he could easily tear her in half. She thought about all of the men she had been with, almost countless, and not a one had given her an orgasm like the one she’d just felt. Not a one had been as thick as him either. His length wasn’t the problem, but his girth and his brutal manner both pained and pleasured her equally. His growling, as he pushed into her deeper, was so primal. He pussy began to get wet from the idea of what was about to happen to her. Her fear that he would plunge into her without regards for her body, was mixed with curiosity as to how that would feel. She had begun his sexual assault on her pussy with nothing but fear and ended it with the most intense sexual feeling she had ever had. Her anticipation was getting the better of her, and as she continued to whimper, she knew that she was becoming more and more excited by his invasion upon her. She knew she was lost. She was a slut...

His slut.

She began to beg, under her breath that he stop, repeating the word over and over. “Please stop,” she said. “Please.”

But she knew that her whimpers and whisperings were nothing to him, and that all her begging would make no difference. She knew that her unwillingness only spurred him on, and yet she continued. His huge pole slowly sliding into her butt, he stopped halfway and slid out once more. He began a rhythmic motion, and with each forward thrust he pushed his cock deeper into her ass. With each movement he made, all he could feel was the strangling around his rock solid cock. It was intensely pleasurable for him. While she whimpered and begged under him, he could feel her ass gripping him tightly, and after her orgasm around his length only moments early, he felt his balls ready to explode.

He began to thrust more forcefully, filling her deeper than she had ever been filled before. She was aware that the pain she was feeling was much more than the pleasure she had gotten from the anticipation and her begging became more resigned. She didn’t want to feel his cock rip her ass to pieces and her fear began to come back fully, penetrating her as deep as he was. His cock throbbed inside her and all she could think was that at any moment he would tear into her, breaking her entirely and destroying her hole...

But then, without warning she felt hot sprays of cum inside her ass, coating her inner walls with his gooey spunk. He grunted as his whole body twitched into her hole and he gushed into her, filling her up with hot, sticky liquid. She actually began to cry with relief that he’d finished so swiftly, and confusion about the fact that his release had made her pussy juices flow again and she was now ready for more of his violation inside her cunt.

As he shot his final stream of cum into her, he collapsed onto her back, pressing her body against the steadily cooling steal beneath her. Her breath forming condensation upon it, as his breath tickled the back of her neck and he grunted with pleasure. His softening penis began withdrawing from her, and strangely, both of them began to laugh. It was entirely involuntary on both their parts, but the feeling of his soft cock sliding out of her tight ass was tickling the nerves in both of their sensitive areas. Unable to hold back the pair laughed and suddenly each was humanised to the other.

He pushed himself up off of her, and stared down at her body, trussed up for his pleasure. He had raped many women in his time, but none like her. None had actually enjoyed his invasion upon their bodies and none had shared in laughter with him after the fact. As much as he felt no sorrow for what he had done (her body lay prone as it was simply for his enjoyment as his cock twitched in approval at the sight) he knew he was done with her for the moment.

Silently he unclipped her leg restraints and then walked around the table to un-cuff her hands. She looked up at him for the first time, and her bright blue eyes locked onto his face. Had she not just been violently and brutally raped by the man she would almost describe him as sweet looking. His hair was black, dusted with grey and his eyes were a deep blue. His face showed age, but not nearly as much as she could see in his eyes, but as her eyes travelled down his body it became even more difficult to judge. Was he not naked, she would’ve guessed he was in his mid to late forties (and still been wrong) but his body was more ripped and buff than any man she’d ever dated, he was clearly in great shape.

She slid herself into a seated position on the table without breaking eye contact with him. She stared up at him, and could feel his warm semen slowly seeping out of her butthole onto the surface beneath her. It was strangely pleasurable for her, and made it hard for her to keep her eyes on his, without betraying her body’s readiness for more.

“Who are you?” She asked.

“David.” He replied.

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