He pressed her back into the mattress, one hand over her mouth, the other still clutching her $87.95 Delux Chef’s Knife. The press of it against the soft flesh at the base of her throat was a thin cold line of terror.
‘that’s a good little kitty’ he murmured near her ear. Her hair spilled wildly around her head, a halo encircling her in the half-light filtering through her curtains.
It had been twisted into a neat chignon as she had bent to get the paper off the side steps on her way out the door to work.
He’d come out of the shadows, launching himself on her, and slamming her against the closing kitchen door, still folded in half. She landed hard on the kitchen floor, him on top of her. She’d tried to yelp, but the door closed before any noise got out. He’d used the chignon to pull her across the floor to the block on the counter where she kept her knives.
He had pressed the tip of the knife against her throat as she laid there, stunned, breathless, wild-eyed.
This wasn’t fucking happening.
The sharp prick of the knife against her throat told a different tale. Her heart thundered hard, as he laid out the ground rules.
“no fucking screaming, kitten.”
“fighting will hurt you worse than me”
“and you won’t win”
“I’ll still get what I came in for…”
He grabbed her by the front of her jacket, lifting her like she was that kitten he kept calling her. Fear froze her limbs. A quick slice down the front of the jacket released the buttons from their threaded ties, and they skittered off under the table.
A few hard tugs and the jacket lay behind her on the floor.
He didn’t even use the knife to rip her shirt from her. The soft Georgette blouse tore easily at the seams, and she stood before this stranger in her flesh-toned bra, and plum skirt. His hand reached out and pinched one round tit.
The words or the pinch freed her from the fear, and she turned and bolted for the door. In a second he was on her, long before she could even turn the knob.
Her heart thundered loudly in her ears as his arm encircled her throat, the edge of the blade pressed against that slender, fragile column.
He’d walked her into the bedroom, to her dresser. He found the sex toys first, of course. He held up her favorite blue dildo, made a rude joke, then dropped it back in the drawer, ‘for next time,’ he said, with a thin smile. Then he found the scarves. He gathered them up and stuffed them into his pockets.
He took his hand from her mouth, helped pull her into the center of the bed. She wanted to run. She wanted to scream. The knife gleamed dully, convincing her to be quiet. To not fight. To survive.
It seemed to only take moments before her wrists were lashed together with her favorite rose silk scarf. He sat upon her now, straddling her, the knife laying in promise upon her rising and falling breasts.
He leaned up and over her, securing her tethered hands to the openwork of the fanciful wrought iron headboard. His crotch pressed towards her face, she smelled stale urine, and felt the heat and heft of an engorged cock.
She tried not to look. There was a large bulge in the front of his old denim jeans. God. Dear God.
Jack wasn’t big…she’d never been fucked by anyone other than Jack. This guy could rip her to pieces….
Tears gathered and spilled over, running down the side of her face, ticking into her ear on the one side, and just under her jawbone on the other.
“please…” was all she could whisper, as fear clogged her throat.
“Hell, I’ll please you, kitten…” and he shot her a feral, hungry look as he pulled her skirt from her.
She was left in her bra and panties, hose and heels. He took one slender leg, and slid off the shoe, tossing it onto the floor behind him. He looped the scarf tightly, expertly around her ankle, and pulled her leg to the corner of the bed, tying it off. He repeated it for her other leg, though she did try to struggle, and lashed her foot out at him. He laughed.
The bastard laughed at her.
He caught her flailing leg under his arm, pinning it hard against his torso.
“What the fuck are you going to do with one foot that you couldn’t do with two hands? Silly, stupid kitten. A punishment for being a naughty girl now.”
His fingers hooked into her panties, and he pulled hard. They ruptured at the side seam, and he used the knife to separate the remaining bit of silk.
“Wet” he murmured, as he fingered the crotch, running his thumb over the wet spot, then lifting it to his nose and inhaling deeply.
She turned crimson. She opened her mouth to speak, but he stuffed the small swatch of fabric inside.
“Taste your horny honey, kitten?” he asked as he watched her move the fabric around in her mouth, trying to push it away. More tears fell now.
He laid down atop her, the thickness between his thighs pressing against her pussy. She almost moaned with the sensation of the thick press of cock pushing the flap of his zipper against her clit.
She didn’t want to feel this. She couldn’t feel this.
“you’re fucking wet for this, aren’t you kitten? Wanting a nice thick piece of meat inside you, don’t you kitten?”
His voice was sinful, thick and sensual, as his mouth pressed to her cheek, his whiskey colored eyes watching her closely. He was pressing against her in small fucking motions, his hips grinding against her, pressing into her sensitive flesh, the roughness of the denim on her tender bits a sexual tease.
He rose up a bit, pressing back on strong, muscled forearms. He took the knife, and sliced through the bra holding back her tits,then through the straps, releasing her into his waiting hands. He kneaded her tits hard, firmly palpitating the tender flesh, before grasping her nipples in hard fingers, and pinching tight.
She arched up, pressing her pelvis against his.
“nice little kitty, so nice… she loves being petted, hmmmm”
She cried out, softly, ‘noooo,’ afraid that if she protested overmuch he’d gag her for real this time.
She feared that most of all.
He slid down her body, until his mouth captured one reddened bud and he bit down on it. She heard the rasp of his zipper, and in moments felt the press of the thick head against her.
“What a nice wet kitty,” he almost purred against her tit. He slipped back up her body, sinking his cock up and into her belly.
It was fucking huge compared to Jack’s…and yet, her body stretched almost instantly to accommodate him. Her eyes almost rolled up in her head as he pulled out, the flare of his cockhead rubbing against her g-spot.
‘mmmmmmmnnooooo’ she moaned, low, almost inaudible.
“oh-ellllya, kitty” and he began thrusting and parrying, his shaft working deeply up inside her. She’d never felt so full before. Never felt the rasp of a cock pulling her tissues this way, then that as he pulled in and out of her grasping cunt.
His hand fingered her tit; while the other began tickling at her clit. The plunging of his hips never ceased as he continued his three-point torment.
She was being raped. She had no say in this. She didn’t want this, didn’t want to feel this …and yet her body began the ripples that she knew signaled her oncoming orgasm.
She came, hard.
And hard on the heels of her own breaking, his.
“your hungry cunt just sucked the juice right outta my cock, kitten.” He laid a moment, gathering himself, then rose up over her once more.
“good kitten” he slid his hand up and captured her nipple once more, gave it a hard squeeze.
He slid from the bed, zipping his pants. She watched him head out the bedroom door, without a backwards glance. She heard the opening and closing of the kitchen door, the sound of it being pulled tightly shut echoing down the hallway to where she lay, bound to the bed.
He found her there when he got home from work. He was solicitous, caring. She refused to file a police report, saying it would harm her at her job, the negative publicity that always seemed to follow rape victims.
He supported her decision.
Friday night he met his friends for poker night. He met Mason’s eyes across from him at the table.
“planning on losing again tonight my friend?”
He shook his head. He knew the penalty now for losing more than you carried in your pockets.