Alisha stood there in front of Jeff unable to move, unable to even blink, paused like a statue. Jeff walked around her body, taking his time, examining her from every side. She was as beautiful as ever, maybe even more so. She had grown even more voluptuous as she had aged into full womanhood. Her breasts seemed to want to spill out of her top. He decided to oblige her chest's apparent desire and pulled off her shirt, a more difficult task than expected considering that her arms were still at her sides even if one was reached out to close the door still. Eventually, he maneuvered her shirt over her head, revealing her baby blue bra. He peeked at the tag on it; she was a D-cup now.
"My, Alisha, how you have grown," he said as he let her bra strap snap back into place. She heard him and felt the sting on her back. Despite being unable to move, she could hear and feel and sense every little thing around her still.
He cupped her generous breasts from behind and felt their soft weight in his hands. She wanted to squirm and run or, at least, scream for help, but her body would not move. It would not even breathe. It was torture.
"Hmmm," he said. "Very nice. Oh, how I have dreamed of touching these." In an unfathomable turn of injustice, she realize that although she could not move, his hands could move her. He lifted the weight of her boobs and squeezed his fingers into their soft flesh. She just stood and felt it. Felt it all, unable to even blush. Eventually, he let her breasts go, and then he undid her skirt, letting it drop to the floor at her ankles. Now he could see her panties as well. He leaned up against her back and put on hand on a breast and let another slip down the front of her panties to feel her bush and slide a finger against her slit.
Again, she desperately wanted to do anything, even gasp at the pleasure she felt, but she was a statue, a flesh statue, unable to move even a millimeter form where she stood.
"Do you like that?" he whispered into her ear. "Huh? Do you?"
She just stood there.
"Do you like the boy you once babysat feeling up your pussy?"
She hated it, but she did like it. She loved it, even.
"Do you enjoy this? Huh, pervert? Do you like being felt up by a boy like me?"
She wanted to scream, only now it was out of sheer pleasure. His touch was too much. Then, his finger slid inside of her, and her mind exploded in sheer erotic pleasure. It was wonderful agony. Being unable to move seem to only intensify the experience, bottling it up. She had to hold it all in with no way of releasing her emotions, absorbing the pleasure like a sponge.
He slid around her and she saw his face again. She could see the boy he had been and could recognize the man he was becoming. He looked into her eyes and then planted his lips on hers. His hand opened her jaw and his tongue probed her mouth, while his other hand kept up in her crotch. It was an unbearable combination in her frozen state. At this point, she only wished she could kiss back and feel even more pleasure in her mouth.
He kept tonguing and fingering until it became too much to contain. An orgasm, a still, solid orgasm, shot up her spine like a rocket and exploded in her mind. It flooded her every thought with pleasure. It was wonderful, like nothing she had ever felt before. It kept going... and going... and going... Every time she thought it would end, it kept right on going. She loved it, but it was too much. It felt like her body was on fire, her mind was drowning it the pleasure, but there was no way to come up for air, no relief from the sensation of her orgasm. It would not end or even fade. She was trapped in pleasure. Horrified, she realized that it would not end until he let her move again. She wanted to cry. She wanted to beg him to let it end. She wanted to die if only to escape the overwhelming pleasure that encased her like a wonderful tomb.
It seemed to go on forever. He looked into her eyes and smirked. HE KNEW! she realized. He knew what she was feeling. He was getting off on it, knowing what he had done to her. That monster! She wanted to hate him. She tried. It would have been an easy feeling at any other time. But, hate was hard to come by in the midst of all of this pleasure. If anything, she realized she was starting to love him. He had made her feel better than she had ever felt before, a pleasure beyond all compare, deeper and longer than any other man could hope to give her. She hated it and wanted it to end right now, but... No, she wanted more, too. It was his power, she realized. She wanted more of his power, craved it. She wanted him to dominate her, to enslave her, to encompass all that she was. She wanted to disappear into him like a vapor inhaled into his lungs and live in his blood like a drug intoxicating him as he absorbed all that she was. She was gone, plain and simple. She was his, purely and hopelessly.
He smiled and pressed a button. She dropped to the floor like a fallen marionette, feeling the strange sensation of control returning to her. Still, she did not move as the orgasm faded and she felt the carpet against her back, her pussy dripping and getting cold. She panted and moaned, but she did not move. She laid there, waiting, ready to stay still forever, hoping for more of that pleasure. Tears dripped down the sides of her face. He stood above her, and she smiled at him, her master, her everything. She wanted nothing more than to feel that again. To be immobile and at his control, and he knew. She could see it. He KNEW that she wanted it. He smiled. He had won. They both knew it. She did not care. He smiled even more as she saw that on her face.
"So," he said. "What shall we do next, my toy?"