Heather Meets the Vile Gamer II
I was horrified. To be raped was one thing….hopefully I could walk away from this and put it behind me, but I knew I’d rather die than endure what he was describing.
Throwing me onto the bed again, he sneered, "How would you like that whore? You’d never see your faggot husband or brat again!" He cackled wickedly and I completely broke down.
I could vaguely hear him rummaging around the room, opening drawers and laying out things as I cried hysterically.
"Aw shut up" he said mildly, "can’t you take a joke?"
A JOKE??? I couldn’t believe this. Too frightened to show further anger, however, I pleaded again to be allowed to leave.
Climbing onto the bed, he roughly shoved me onto my stomach and pulled my arms behind me again. I felt rope winding around my wrists.
"Nope, not yet slut. I’m not done with you."
"Oh God….Pleeeaaase!" I sobbed. "Haven’t you done enough to me?" Rope was now being wound around my ankles tightly. Pulling them up, he fastened them to my bound wrists. I was now painfully hog-tied.
"No I haven’t, but I’ve definitely heard enough out of you" he chuckled as he picked up my panties from the floor and shoved them into my mouth as far as he could get them. I could feel myself trying to gag as my already tortured throat tried to expel them from its entrance. With a great effort, I made myself stop gagging and try to adapt to the new invasion. Another length of rope was tied around my still-open mouth to hold them in place so I couldn’t spit them out. Chuck stood back to admire his handiwork.
"Goddamn, that’s so sexy", he sighed. "There’s nothing and I mean nothing sexier
than a hog-tied bitch with a gag in her mouth….and baby, you’re about the sexiest I’ve seen"
Without warning he reached over to one of my breasts and pinched the nipple tightly, twisting it hard for good measure. I screamed in surprised pain.
"Perfect. I barely heard anything …just a sexy noise. Now nobody can hear you but me. Damn I love to hear gagged screams."
I couldn’t believe he’d just hurt me so much for no other reason than to test out my gag. How could I have been friends with someone so sadistic?
I made another painful sound into the gag as he pulled my head up by my hair. His lips were to my ear so I wouldn’t miss one terrifying word of what he said next.
"And baby I’m gonna hear all kinds of screams before we’re done. You didn’t think I’d forgotten about that gorgeous tight ass of yours did you?
Without meaning to I gave him the thrill he was after by screaming again into the gag. I couldn’t help it. I was trying to scream "NOOOO!! OH PLEASE DON’T DO THAT!!! DONNNN’T!!!" but all that was escaping was something that sounded like "MMMMMPPHH OOOHHHH…EEEEEESHHHH OHHHHH!!"
He was laughing as he said, "Riiiight….scream for me bitch….look how fuckin hard I am again."
He was. Oh God….I knew he was going to hurt me badly now. If for no other reason than to hear my muffled screams.
He retrieved his knife from the floor then, and began amusing himself by running the sharp blade over my face, down my neck. Pushing me onto my side he concentrated on my breasts….flicking the nipples lightly…caressing them with his deadly toy.
I was trying so hard to remain calm and lay as still as possible, but I couldn’t prevent the frightened mewlings and whimpers I heard myself making. From his reactions they were obviously music to his ears, but it couldn’t be helped. I was so damn scared. The scaredest I’d been since this nightmare began.
"I could take one of these with me you know", he said softly as he circled one of my breasts with his blade. "There’s not one single thing you could do to stop me either……oh baby..I can just imagine how your screams would sound". More helpless screams tore thru my gagged throat. Could somebody just die of fear?, I wondered.
I don’t think I really believed he would do that. I was hoping he was only saying these horrible things to terrorize me as much as possible. It was working, because I really had no idea what he would or wouldn’t do. I knew things like that happened every day. And he was obviously crazy….I mean, here I was.
Chuck finally moved away from my breasts, and slowly traced the rest of my body with the tip of his wickedly sharp blade. I shuddered and quivered during this, but had stopped making noises thru the gag, so he soon became bored and moved on to a subject he knew would get a reaction out of me. Pulling my head straight back by my hair again, he put his lips to my ear and said in a low, rasping voice,
"Gawd, what a fine ass…..I can’t wait to shove my dick in there…and I’m going to doll….there’s not one damn thing you can do about it"
The high-pitched wail coming from me was pleasing him again. I knew he meant what he said this time. No matter why he was telling me.
I felt him untying my ankles from my wrists, then my ankles were untied from each other. I remember feeling a brief hope that maybe he’d release me after all when he began untying my wrists as well. That hope was soon dashed when I realized he was only untying me in order to tie me again differently. When he was finished I was on my stomach with each wrist tied to each ankle, so that my limbs could be spread.
Chuck’s rough hands began to roam over my helplessly exposed behind while he made sounds like a starving man who sees a feast laid out before him. I was moaning and trembling in dread of what I knew was about to happen. Even my heart felt like it was trembling inside me as it hammered out a cold scared rhythm.
"This is it baby….the grand finale", his voice sounded thick with new lust. "I’ve wanted to rape that beautiful ass ever since I saw that picture of it".
He was behind me now, pulling apart my bound-together limbs as he spoke.
"Now it’s mine…..all mine"
I pulled at my restraints as hard as I could, shaking my head NO frantically, screaming "NOOOO!! DON’T!! DONNNN’T!!!" into the gag. The panic I’d been fighting all night descended on me now. He was right–there was nothing I could do. There was no escape. Beneath the panic and terror I knew that my screams and useless struggles were not only inflaming his lust even more, but would only intensify the pain that was in store for me. I knew this, but couldn’t stop….no more than I could escape or stop what was happening to me. I’d never been so panicked and so helpless to save myself.
See, I’d experienced anal sex before. I knew how much pain was involved, or so I thought. My limited experience with this type of sex was of the gently probing, inch-by-inch variety. But no matter how gentle and caring were the lovers I’d allowed to take me that way, there was always intense pain involved. My complete terror and dread came from knowing that this man, this horrific parody of a lover, would in no way be gentle and patient with me. There would be no concern for my pain, just the opposite; there would be a lust for it. I’d roleplayed with him, remember. His graphic descriptions of how he would sodomize me made me shudder at the time and feel very glad that we were only pretending. Now the pretending was over.
He was gripping my hips tightly, his weight on his arms holding the lower part of my body down easily while the rest of me was still thrashing wildly, determined to make it as hard for him as I could. In my hopeless desperation I think I was hoping he would just give up. Yeah, I know that was dumb…but who could think clearly at a time like that?
He let go of me with one hand and I could feel his hardness between my legs as he rubbed it over my swollen pussy lips. He was laughing because I was still so wet. To my dismay I was wetter than ever. Some of it was his recent ejaculation, but most of it was me and we both knew it. I didn’t even want to know why I was so wet when I was so scared at the same time. I gasped as he harshly entered me; moaned as he fucked me hard for several minutes, then shrieked again when he pulled out and began forcing himself between my asscheeks. After some probing (accompanied with curses at me and commands to "keep still goddammit") his awful weapon found its target and began pushing relentlessly forward.
My heart-stopping panic intensified as all of my body’s resistance was conquered by the invading shaft. The steady pressure against my small opening soon became a blinding agony as the muscle was forced to stretch unnaturally wide to accomodate it. Although he spared me the savage first thrust I’d been fearfully expecting, he wasn’t exactly gentle either. Once his massive tool–slick from our combined juices he’d just dipped into–began to open me he didn’t hesitate to keep pushing till he was buried in my ass to the hilt. My desperate pleading shrieks had become long shrill screams of unbearable pain that no gag could muffle completely.
Chuck only paused for a few moments after his entire length was inside me….to relish my screams, my pain, my tightness.
"OHHHH FUCCK THAT’S TIGHT!!!", I could dimly hear him shouting behind my own screams. "Damn, that sounds so sexy…. Here it comes bitch"
My screams became even louder if possible when, before I could recover from the agony of his sudden initial entry, he pulled out about halfway and drove forward again…harder this time. Again and again he pulled out, sometimes nearly all the way, only to force his way back into my ass harder than ever…. my tortured screams driving him on to even crueler thrusts.
"…SCREAM BITCH!!! SCREEEEAMM!!!", he shouted as he furiously pounded his lust into me…mercilessly…..the pace of his thrusts increasing by the second.
I’m sure he wasn’t disappointed. I was screaming so hard at that point my vocal chords were beginning to feel damaged.
My cries began to taper off as the horrible pain lessened to a dull, raw and chafing ache under the frenzied assault. I realized I would survive this and steeled myself to endure it till he finished and prayed it would be soon. Before long I was only crying out when, sensing my grim detachment, Chuck would stab into me with a cruel lunge while yanking my helpless body against his by my hips or sometimes by my bound limbs….sending a sharp fresh pain through my violated rear passage and forcing more muffled screams from my tortured throat.
The torment seemed to go on forever. I suppose I wasn’t terrorized enough to suit him, because at one point he paused long enough to remove my gag, then loop a length of rope around my neck. I gasped when he gripped the rope tightly, pulling me back towards him with it, and resumed raping my ass with long, hard strokes. The rope was pulled tighter with each forward lunge. His voice was suddenly in my ear.
"Wanna die like this cunt? While I’m fucking your ass?" he began laughing maniacally.
I understood why the gag was no longer needed as I struggled to speak, to scream…anything! I couldn’t make any sounds except quietly choking ones. My vocal chords were squeezed to silence and soon my air was cut off as well.
"Uuuh…yeah….I could choke the life out of you right now slut, and nobody would know…", more laughter, then, "Are you scared? Are you??"
Oh god…why was he doing this? I was thrashing as hard as my bound and painfully impaled body was able to, wondering if this was it….if my life would be over in a few more minutes.
He had shifted position and was lying on top of me now, between my tightly bound and spread limbs while he fucked and choked me. Suddenly his hand snaked underneath me. His fingers soon found my clit and began working it expertly. The sensation– all sensations–seemed intensified as I struggled to breathe. He was playing with me by letting up on the pressure of the rope long enough for me to gasp in a few breaths, then he would tighten it again as he continued to rape me while stimulating my clitoris.
I don’t know if it was the terror of impending death, the skill of his fingers, the constant steady thrusts into my tortured bottom, or all things combined: But I was suddenly aware that a violent orgasm was building rapidly. When it hit me, it hit without further warning and it hit hard.
For the most part, Chuck’s grip on the rope had loosened considerably, and he seemed to be holding it mostly for show as he concentrated his efforts elsewhere. Then for the second time that night my body stiffened as the jolts hit me. Animal-like cries escaped me and bright lights flashed and exploded behind my closed eyes.
Dimly I could hear him gasp with surprise, then roar as my violated rectum clamped onto his invading cock–as if in revenge. Meanwh ile my whole body was shuddering and thrashing with the power of this unexpected climax. I can’t even say it was pleasurable, but it was the most intense thing I ever felt. I was assaulted by those violent waves as surely as I was being assaulted by this horrible creep who was causing them.
"AAAgghhhh!!! OH FUCK!!! …..godDAMN!!!" he shouted, then began slamming into my still-spasming hole harder than ever while jerking me back by the rope around my neck. I surely would have screamed again; it hurt so badly, but that was impossible since once again my air was cut off by the ever-tightening rope.
I could tell by his violent, quickening thrusts, groans and curses that his own delayed orgasm was finally about to hit, but those excruciating moments were like a grotesque race. Would he finally cum before I strangled during his throes? Would he remember to release his tighter-than-ever grip on the rope in time when his lust was finally sated? Or was this his intention all along….to take my very life just as he’d taken everything else as he blasted off into my dying body? My fate was totally in his hands. There was nothing I could do.
The edges of my vision were going dark when I felt his body stiffen on top of me, his rampaging tool beginning to jerk inside me. Then, with a loud shout and another five or six violent forward shoves, I finally felt the wetness inside my horribly used ass as he began shooting his third load of the night into my bowels. He was finally spent, and only then did he release the rope, right before pulling out of me.
Once again I gulped huge gasps of air then collapsed, sobbing with relief that he was finished and I was still alive. He rolled off me and lay on his back panting. That and my quiet sobs were the only noises in the room for a very long time. I could feel his eyes on me, but I’d turned my head away from him, my eyes closed. I couldn’t look at him anymore. I didn’t want to see his face ever again. It sounded like he was about to say something, but didn’t. Instead he got up from the bed and soon I heard water running from what must have been the bathroom.
I lay there, still bound, in pain and in shock I think. It seemed that a million different thoughts were flying thru my mind, but none of them would stay with me. Any attempt at coherent thought failed miserably since all thoughts would dissapate like smoke. I couldn’t focus. I didn’t even know what was going to happen to me next.
I finally opened my eyes when Chuck returned. I still couldn’t look at his face, but I saw him well enough to see that he was dressed now, and I took that as a hopeful sign. Maybe this nightmare was really almost over.
He untied me then. I sat up slowly, trying to rub the circulation back into my arms and legs. He stood watching me quietly, then stepped forward and handed my clothes to me. He’d been holding them all along I guess.
"Here, Heather", he said in a quiet voice that sounded nothing like the mean, taunting, cursing animal I’d just spent the evening being abused by. So it’s Heather now?, I remember thinking. I wondered what happened to Bitch, Cunt or any number of the charming names he’d referred to me as all night.
"You probably want to go to the bathroom."
I did look up then. I had to see if he looked as different as he sounded. The rage and venom seemed to be missing, but I still didn’t trust him.
"Go on….really…..go ahead". he said while standing back, as if to assure me he wouldn’t interfere, or that this wasn’t a cruel trick.
"You……you’re …." I stuttered, scared to even ask.
"What?"
"You’re going to….to let me go now?" There. It was out. I waited for the laughter, the taunts, the namecalling. Stupid Bitch probably the first.
"Yeah", he sighed. "I’ll take you back to your car. Whenever you’re ready, ok?"
Still eyeing him warily, I snatched my clothes from his outstretched arms and dashed to the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it before he could change his mind and start hitting me or something.
Once alone, I sank to the floor with my back against the wall and just sat there a while, hugging my knees to my chest. I didn’t cry. This was the time I needed to pull myself together. I had no idea what time it was. The ordeal had seemed to last for hours and hours. Surely it was close to morning. God…Tom must be frantic with worry, I thought with real pain. I then remembered the watch in my purse. I’d put it in there the other day because the band had broken on it, but the watch itself was still working.. With much trepidation I looked thru my purse till I found it. 11:22 it said. NO WAY!! The movie I’d meant to watch that night wouldn’t even be over yet. And even if it was, I remembered telling Tom before I left that I’d probably make a stop at the 24-hour Wal-Mart, and he knew I took forever in there. That should give me enough time to get myself together mentally before I went home and had to face my husband.
Now I needed to concentrate on getting my look back together. I knew I must be a mess, but I still got quite a shock when I stood back up and looked into the mirror. I heard myself moaning with dismay. Oh my god….how was I going to explain this? My almost deathly-pale face was a canvas of splotches, some of them turning to bruises. My upper lip was swelling at the corner of my mouth, and I could see the dried blood from where it had split. I remembered the hard slaps I’d received when I tried to escape, and I hated Chuck with a new fury. There were marks on my neck from the rope, and the thin cut on my neck had broken open and fresh blood was smeared there. I was already making plans to wear a lot of choker-necklaces and high-necked blouses for the next several days.
Chuck had unfortunately picked that moment to stand outside the door and ask, "Heather? You ok?" He must have heard me when I saw my face.
The hatred I saw in the mirror distorted my face even further. I bit back the "fuck you asshole" that sprung to my lips first. I was still scared to death of him after all, and my mouth had probably gotten me in enough trouble that night, so instead I shot back simply "I’m PEACHY!". Ok, so it came out sounding louder and more sarcastic than I meant for it to….but dammit, ..I’d been hurt by him. Badly.
My sarcasm didn’t seem to offend him since I heard him moving further into the room muttering, "Ok…ok. just checking". I turned back to the mirror to survey the damage further. My eyes were puffy and red from crying. That wasn’t good. I’m one of those people who can’t cry even a little without it ruining my eyes for the rest of the day. I tried to remember which movie I’d said I was seeing that night; it had been wiped from my mind for a while. It came to me then. American Psycho. Shit. It wasn’t likely I could convince Tom that this movie was a tear-jerker. Otherwise that problem would be covered. He knew what a baby I was over sad movies. He’d laughed and teased me when I came home with red and puffy eyes after seeing Titanic.
I began to clean myself up as best as I could. I didn’t want to take a shower here, although a shower is what I longed for the most. For one thing it would take too long. I wanted out of here and as far away from that bastard outside the door as I could get. I made do with the sink and a wet washrag and tried to scrub as much of his touch and scent from me as I could.
My hair was a matted mess…it had been pulled so many times I wasn’t surprised. After combing thru it and applying some makeup, I did look a little better, but I still had these awful bruises to explain. I decided I’d just have to think of something and hope I could be convincing. I didn’t even know how I was going to face going home at all. How could I just act like everything was normal when everything was fucked up beyond words?
I couldn’t stay in this bathroom all night hiding from Chuck, nor did I want to. I wanted out of there so bad. I just wished I didn’t have to be near him anymore. Damn, I thought. I was going to have to get back into his car with him. He said he would take me back to my car, but like I’d said before, I didn’t trust him. But what choice did I have really? If I struck out on foot, with my luck I’d probably be attacked again. He’d chosen a hotel quite a distance from the theater where my car was still parked. At least I hoped it was still there, since I’d been forced out of it with the keys still in the ignition. My eyes closed in a wince as I remembered the paralyzing fear when I first saw him holding his switchblade so casually outside my open car window. I hadn’t even realized how bad it would get. Could that really only have been a few hours ago?? It didn’t seem possible. I felt a million years older since then.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the bathroom door and walked into the room with my purse on my shoulder–the impatient woman who’s ready to go and go now, the gesture said. He looked up at me from the bed where he’d been sitting. I didn’t like the look in his eyes as he looked at my freshened-up appearance…I didn’t like it a bit. He wasn’t exactly looking evil again, just…..hungry.
"Ok…I’m ready…ok?", I mumbled, looking down.
"Come here for a minute…..please?"
I looked at him, trying to control the hatred I’d seen in the mirror earlier. He was patting the space on the bed next to him. Indicating he wanted me to sit by him.
"Come on Heather….we need to talk. Really."
"No we don’t!" I blurted too quickly. "I…I don’t want to talk to you right now. I just want to go".
"I won’t hurt you anymore. Ok? I promise."
Something in how he said that soothed me a little…just a little. Besides, I wanted to get home, and in one piece preferably. I was still too scared to outright refuse. Slowly I approached the bed.
Gingerly I perched on the very edge of the bed, as far from him as possible. He actually looked hurt, but shrugged a little and turned toward me.
"Ok Heather. I just wanted to say….well, there’s a lot I’d like to say, but nothing you want to hear right now."
I continued to stare straight ahead.
"But there’s one thing I have to tell you…something you should know in case you’re thinking of going to the police".
I turned toward him then, startled. That was the last thing I wanted to do! But then, I don’t suppose he could have known that.
"I have copies and printouts of all the pictures you sent me, all the letters too. All of our conversations are logged–remember our roleplays? Oh, and those wavs…"
I had no doubt that he’d kept and logged everything. Of course. The perfect crime. The bastard. The most fucked up thing about this whole night was that no matter how I’d been brutalized, no matter how scared I was I had only myself to blame and I knew it. Maybe I should have called this story Stupid Bitch Gets What’s Cumming to Her. That’s exactly how raw and ugly and sordid this sorry ass tale has been. And so true!! Damn, that title rings so true!
It really sickened me now, knowing he had my pictures–the sexy ones especially that I’d teased him with. My face burns even now when I think of him looking at them…remembering….gloating.
"I know you said no…a lot, and that I really raped you. Maybe I’d go down for it", he said lightly with a shrug. "but would you really want all of that coming out? It would you know…."
I was shaking my head. "I’m not…I won’t" , I whispered.
He kept talking as though he hadn’t heard me. Maybe he hadn’t; or maybe he just wanted to say these things to make me continue feeling helpless. He really had no clue as to how little his evidence meant to me….at least in any legal sense.
"…all of it. Not just the roleplays, but everything. Everything you ever said to me. Like I remember this one conversation we had when you said something like ‘you gotta find me first!’…that was so damn cute…."
I’d heard enough and blurted, "I said I WON’T!!" quite loudly this time. In a little lower, but still nearly hysterical voice, I continued trying to convince him. See, I wanted him assured that he could walk away from this–it seemed the only way he was going to let me go.
"You don’t have to keep telling me these things!! I’m NOT going to the damn cops! I never was! Nothing you said convinced me. I just….I don’t want anybody to know." I knew I was telling the truth. Nobody could know about this….I would die.
Looking somewhat relieved he began easing closer to me. I still didn’t like how he was looking at me. Not at all.
"Well cool! Now that we’ve got that settled…." I didn’t like the sound of his voice either. Him arm went around me….like we were on a date for godssakes.
Trying to wriggle away from his one-armed embrace I fairly whined, "Chuck….please. I need to go now….I want to go now! OK??….CHUCK!!"
Without warning he’d pulled me to him firmly, gripped my face, then forced a kiss on me. "Gee," I thought sarcastically as I tried to twist my head away, "our first kiss". I shoved at his steadily advancing chest…he was getting too close…pushing me backwards.
I managed to break the kiss…"DON’T!!!!"…..he ignored me, bearing his body down on me till I was on my back. "NOOOOO!!", I wailed pitifully. "Get off me, Chuck!! Dammit Please get OFFF!!!" Still ignoring my pleas, he was holding me down with his body while kissing me roughly….my lips, my neck…groping at my breasts, pinching the nipples. Having the luxury of not being tied up this time, I was trying to shove him off me or away from me as hard as I could; twisting under him in a pathetic attempt to scoot out from under. All my efforts, of course, were useless. My struggles had turned him on again, and he was much stronger than me. I didn’t have a chance.
I could feel his hardness against me as I fought that brief and losing battle, amazed that he was hard again, despairing that he’d never let me go. He was breathing hard, holding me down with one arm as he urgently undid his jeans, a wild look in his eye.
I tried again. "CHUCK NNNOOO!!! NO MORE…." I was starting to cry again. "You PROMISED!!!"
"I promised not to hurt you..", he muttered while jerking at my pants now. "and I won’t." Pulling them off me easily and shoving them impatiently aside, he forced himself between my tightly clenched legs and lunged forward. When I screamed, he clamped his hand over my mouth but kept going. I couldn’t believe it. Just when I thought this nightmare was over there I was, helplessly pinned under him while he raped me again.
At least he wasn’t brutal this time. He didn’t hit me or threaten me or even call me a bad name. I suppose he thought he was being romantic.
*****
When he finally took me back to my car (it was still there, keys and all), he’d barely gotten his car stopped all the way when I quickly opened the door and scrambled out before he could stop me. As I slammed the door I could hear him saying "Heather, wait", but I wasn’t slowing down for anything. I didn’t want to hear anything more he had to say. I never wanted to see him again.
Before he could try to pursue me I was in my car and peeling out of there as I wished I’d done as soon as he approached my window an eternity ago. As an after-thought I even flipped him the birdy finger as my tires squealed. I know…it was terribly juvenile and a bit redundant in this case, but for a few seconds it made me feel a little better.
It didn’t look like he was going to chase me. I drove around for a while, radio blasting, muttering to myself like a lunatic. When I was sure I wasn’t being followed I pulled into Wal-Mart’s parking lot and sat there a long time before going in. Reaction sat in and I began shaking uncontrollably. Alive….alive…the word reverberated in my head over and over. I was alive….I’m alive.
The Aftermath
To this day no one knows what happened to me that night a few months ago.. Well…no one but him.
I’ve never spoken of it aloud, not even to myself when alone. I never will either.
I had hoped against hope that Tom would be asleep when I got home, but when I walked in he was kicked back on the couch watching tv and waiting up for me. One look at my bruised face and swollen, cut lip made him spring to his feet, eyes wide.
"Baby!! What happened to you??"
To my own surprise I burst into tears, explaining while he held me that some fucking asshole had pulled out in front of me in traffic on the way home and I’d had to slam on my brakes so hard that my face was driven into the steering wheel. The story effectively explained my bruises, my tears and my uncontrollable trembling. It was natural, after all, to still be a bit shook up after an almost-accident. Especially since I’d gotten hurt.
Sure…he believed it. Why wouldn’t he? Later when he asked about the movie–I’d been uncharacteristically quiet about it–I simply shrugged and said,
"Oh….it was ok I guess."
*****
In the shower later I scrubbed myself like a maniac. I couldn’t get clean enough. I could still feel his touch no matter how hard I tried to wash him away. Funny, I thought, how many of the rape-victim cliches were true. Many weren’t though…at least in my case. It still amazes me how normal I managed to act most times.
*****
I was afraid to make love with Tom for several nights. I had no idea how I would feel or react. What if I freaked out or something? I couldn’t put him off for long, however, and it turned out ok. Better than ok, really. I actually felt much better in his familiar embrace. It felt as if he were reclaiming me….although he didn’t know it. I would die or kill before letting him know it.
There were other things he could never know; like how images and memories would come to me unbidden. Those moments that had frightened me so badly at the time would return to me not only during lovemaking, but at various odd moments during my days…..and leave me breathless…tingling….wet. I didn’t know what was wrong with me.
Funny, I thought, how so many of the rape-victim cliches are not true.
*****
I didn’t go near the computer for days. I didn’t care if I ever went online again. Eventually I had to go back. Tom was asking why I wasn’t into it anymore, and I realized that my sudden disinterest–easily traced back to the night I came home bruised–was starting to look suspicious.
I had mail–quite a bit of it. I had several online friends whom I normally talked to nearly every day. They were worried since they hadn’t seen me online or heard from me for a while. I really didn’t want to face them just yet. See, Chuck wasn’t the only one I’d teased. I was understandably paranoid now.
Speaking of Chuck, I wasn’t really surprised to see there was mail from him too. I’d hoped he would just leave me alone, but I think I knew better. I considered deleting them unread, but I couldn’t. I’m not sure why, other than the fact that I never could leave a letter unread.
The first few said simply "Are you ok?" with requests that I write him back. The bastard.
The last one was the one I’ve read and re-read over and over:
Dear Heather,
I know you hate me now. I don’t blame you. I just wanted to say that our encounter was the most intensely powerful, mind-blowing experience I’ve ever had. I know it was for you too, although I don’t expect you to admit it yet.
You probably feel I betrayed our friendship by acting on what you told me. But I did tell you I’d find you. I honestly believed it was what you wanted too. Sometime during that incredible night it occured to me that you really were as horrified, angry and scared as you seemed. But I couldn’t stop. Nothing could have made me stop. I only wish I could have had you all night. I’ve never been so on fire before.
I gaze at your pictures and remember with perfect detail how your body felt–inside and out. I can close my eyes and feel you quivering beneath me still. Your gagged and muffled screams wake me up in the dead of night sometimes. I awake imagining I can still smell your scent on me.
We had a shared fantasy. I made it come true. Maybe it was too real for you. Maybe I did take you totally against your will. I’m sorry about your face. I guess I was too caught up in the moment.
Heather, I have to say this….even if it makes you hate me worse. I said I’d find you someday, and maybe I was only half-serious–until you told me of your upcoming movie night, and how you would be alone. I know you didn’t exactly invite me, but subconsciously I think you did. I could almost hear you calling to me–challenging me to find you.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I really am just a sick motherfucker like you said. But I can’t forget how wet you were, or how hard you came.
Do you think of me when you make love? I’ll bet you do. And I’ll bet you get hotter and cum harder than you ever did before. I don’t know how I know this, but I’m right aren’t I? It pleases me knowing this, yet tears me apart with jealousy to think of another having you–even if he’s the one who’s supposed to.
Hate me. Wish me dead if you want…but I can’t stop thinking about you and what happened.
I want you again. I’ll have you again.
I want to feel your struggles again, hear your screams. Next time I’ll take you someplace remote, where your screams can be unleashed without a gag. As sexy as gagged screams are to me, I want to hear them full volume next time….and feel your body shaking with them. I want to taste your tears and hear you begging me to stop.
I WILL have you again, Heather…my hot little slut. Raping you is a right I’m claiming for a long long time. Even if you belong to another, you’re mine now. Don’t ever forget that.
Love,
Chuck
The first time I read this, I sat stunned and terrified when the tone of his letter changed. All apologies and lame explanations one moment, threats to rape me again the next. He really was crazy.
A deep, icy fear had begun to grow in me….accompanied by a deep, hot tingling in my sex….
Reading those words still scare me badly…..and make me so wet….
God help me.
The End
Author of this rape story is Heather
