Nocturnal Emissions

Mike's midnight violation

As you felt the strength fading from your limbs, you look up past the sweat and tears to the vision above you. She watched you through a hazy expression somewhere between lust and rage, eyelids drooping heavily past a pinprick gaze that seemed to look through you. A wide, toothy sneer was attached to her face that only sometimes disappeared with every selfish climax she stole away from you. You wanted to look away, but as you moved, she did too, keeping that leering face in your field of view. You weren't sure if she wanted you to watch her, or wanted to watch you when your resistance finally broke and you gave in to the pleasure she was inflicting on you.

Your breath came in ragged bursts, and sweat poured off of you. The struggle leading to this moment tiring nearly every part of you out so that trying to move an arm felt like moving a mountain. Your legs burned from the effort of trying to buck her off, and from the shameful moments where your body went against your wishes to greedily thrust back against your assailant. Your arms throbbed from the dozens of cuts across your arms, where manicured claws scored fresh lines of red during your resistance. Occasionally you'd get a conflicting painful pleasure from her tongue as it lapped up the wayward drops of your life before the sheets could claim them. Every part of you, it seemed, was hers to take and she wouldn't have it any other way.

A familiar feeling in the back of your loins made itself known again. A sudden burning fullness and ache as your biology and instincts worked together to finally overwhelm your restraint, priming yet another batch of seed to be released when that moment finally comes. You felt it across your whole body, as your skin flushed even more and new goosebumps spread over your skin. Your face burned and you shut your eyes as you desperately fought to keep the one thing she was after from her. If you could do that much, then you could walk away from thi-

"Awful rude to keep a lady waiting." a familiar voice said. It dripped with malice and affection and had the slightest tinge of something deeper. Something wilder, that threatened to come loose if you weren't careful. That same almost feral edge that she initially lunged at you with in the middle of the night. She leaned down and you could feel her heavy signs and breathy moans on your neck as she whispered, "Come on now. We both know you want this as much as I do."

She redoubled her efforts, drawing on a pool of strength you though had exhausted itself hours ago. The bedframe creaked under your combined weight and her forceful thrusts as she hammered her hips into yours. Her hands moved to yours, pinning them in place above your head in what could possibly pass for a romantic gesture in a different context. Her hips moved in devilish patterns, focusing at last on your pleasure in a bid for her own conquest. She watched you, as you desperately tried to hold on. She waited for that last ember of resistance to finally be snuffed out my the all-consuming flood between her legs. For what felt like forever the two of you had this conflict, with your walls managing to stay up and just barely hold her back. Your entire body was tensed, and every other sound out of your mouth was a pitiful whine borne of your struggle. But she wasn't having it. It seemed that she finally figured out the missing piece to the puzzle.

She lunged forward, claiming your mouth with her own. Her tongue, contrary to her hips wild pace, was slow and methodical. Truly sensual and reflecting the same delicate ways her "healing paws" had over flesh. This last embrace, one so tender it bordered on truly loving, was enough to finally enough to break you.

You moaned into her, your very voice being stolen away as your hips rose to meet hers. Your body trembled in the joy of sweet release and your emptied yourself into her. When she felt the first strings of your complete submission, she laughed. It wasn't a particularly cruel laugh, but it was the laugh of someone finally getting what they always knew was coming. Her hips moved in small circles to coax as much of your seed into her as possible, massaging you in as intimate a way as she could. Your head felt like it was full of cotton and sweet whiskey, drunk on the feeling in spite of yourself. You weren't sure how long you spent lying there, but as she pressed herself closer against you, you weren't really sure you cared. The will to fight back was drained, and only sinful bliss remained. Exhaustion had finally caught up to you, making the act of keeping your eyes open increasingly difficult. The last thing you saw was Foxglove's toothy sneer, leering at you from above.

"You look like hell warmed over, Mike." Chiclet said in between bites of something that looked delicious and smelled even better. "Had a rough night?"

You groaned an affirmative, trying to recall details, but could only make out the vagues of ones. Something terrifying enough that you took a swan-dive off the edge of the bed. You could only assume the resulting tumble was why you felt like you had run over twice. One thing you hadn't mentioned, and absolutely wouldn't, would be that aside from beating yourself up, whatever you had dreamed about also made you absolutely ruin your boxers. You stashed the shameful garments under your pillow, making a mental note to spare Freddy the horror show.

Mangle watched you from the vent, apparently already starting on her half of your shared breakfast. Her expression changed to something unreadable for all but half a second. But by the time you sat down, it was already gone. But Mangle wasn't, slithering down to rest on your (still tender) shoulders. "Foxy, dear," she said, somewhere between concern and amusement, "If you want, I can pay you a visit. Help work out some of the tension and ease your suffering while these ghastly bi -bruises heal. Do something about your back and legs, so that you aren't a mess for your shift tonight."

You looked to your legs, still covered by the comfortable cloth of your pajamas. You felt her hands grip your shoulders a bit tighter and something in the back of your head sent alarm racing up your spine. Something about this felt familiar, even intimate, and you found yourself breathing heavier with every passing second. If Mangle noticed your sudden bristling under her touch, she didn't show it, only smiling a bit wider and asking again.

"What do you say, Michael?"