Santas Helper Ch 04

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For those who have missed the first two chapters, I strongly recommend reading them first, it contains the descriptions and previous events that will allow this chapter to make sense. For brevity's sake, I'm going to omit re-creating the scene...

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A month had now past since my ordeal. My visit to the hospital, and the interrogation by the police were all history. The three homeless men who raped and molested me were still in jail, and the big, black thug who stole my panties and raped me first was still on the street. I was home, and after the polite checking on my welfare, and so on, life began to return to normal. Well, almost normal. There was now something between my husband and me. Even when we were intimate, as I lay on my back in the wailing throes of his thrusts in me, part of me was not there. Part of me was still in that dingy, horrid apartment. Part of me was on my back, my panties torn from me, and my heels in the air. That part of me was craving being used by that black thug.

I couldn't put a name to the feeling, that need. But it came from deep within me. Somewhere inside me that started to make my body to respond to him, when he wasn't there. All I had to do was think about him, and I felt my body begin to tingle. I don't know whether it was his animal presence, the size of his manhood, or what it was, but somehow I knew I was going to go back to him. I had to. All I needed was the opportunity. Well, to know where he was would have helped, too.

My husband was very protective of me for a few weeks, and anyone who even looked leeringly in my direction got a stare, or some harsh words. And I was rarely left alone. It was almost suffocating, but then, my need was also a secret, so perhaps that was part of it. It wasn't about cheating on my husband, heavens no! I loved him deeply. But it was about being taken and used by a man who had such dominance that I could not help but surrender to him. So that month had seemed like an eternity, before I had my first chance. My husband had to go on a business trip, and for reasons that escape him, he was scheduled to leave on a Sunday afternoon. He would be back Friday, but in the meantime, I was on my own. On my own, but I was not going to stay alone.

I had no sooner seen my husband off at the airport, and I was almost speeding home. By the time I got there, I was in such a frenzy that I ran through my house, and into my bedroom, frantically digging into my drawer for my battery-operated-boyfriend. With my legs bound at the ankles by my jeans, and my shoes still on, I couldn't wait any longer to feel some relief. Without the usual teasing and building of tension, I turned that thing full power and almost slammed it in me, not even bothering to spread my labia apart. It was going to be like my being raped, only without the semen. I doubt it took a full minute, but when I was finished, I could hear my own voice ringing from the walls as I screamed in release. I was left lying on the bed, panting, my ears ringing and my eyes fuzzy. My arms flopped aside and the vibrator still buzzing on my thigh. I could feel beads of sweat begin to seep into the thin cotton of my shirt. I closed my eyes for a moment, and the next time I knew, it was getting dark in the room.

I awoke to find the vibrator dead on my bed and I was lying on my side, still partly clothed. I looked at my clock, and I had been out for almost an hour and a half. My heart immediately thumped as I remembered that this was the start of my best chance to find him, and have him. Or him have me. Whatever. I rose and showered, doing my hair into a long, soft fall down my shoulders and back. I didn't bother to curl it, excepting for my front bangs, which were getting long and in need of a trim. I put on my make-up, and added some blush and some dark eyeliner, finishing with a pink lipstick. I looked at myself in the mirror, and smiled. I hoped he would like what he saw. I rose and began to choose my outfit.

"What to wear... what to wear..." I mused to myself as I again searched my wardrobe. I found the same red satin blouse and skirt I had originally worn on our first encounter, and thought about it. Would wearing it again be right? In the end, I shook my head and moved on, justifying the decision as Christmas was done and gone. I thumbed through more outfits, discarding ones that were run-of-the-mill or unsuitable for what I hoped would happen. I came across a snake-skin print dress, the hemline about the same as my skirt, only the material was a thin cotton, and while it was actually a pretty dress, it was rather stiff. The one next to it was a black chiffon, with a very daring neckline. No bra with that one, for certain. I sighed as I discarded it. Too fragile. "What does a woman wear when she wants to have sex?" I mused. And as I finished the words, the answer hit me like thunder. Lingerie! It was already cold out, and I was going to wear a heavy raincoat, just to keep warm, so why bother wearing something underneath it? I crossed the room to my dresser, and began to look through the stuff I had.

Frilly and sheer? A corset? A simple satin slip? I poked about, and after looking a bit, frilly and sheer won. I picked out some white thigh-high hosiery I keep, and then pulled on the sheer babydoll. It only fastened in one point, a simple button just below my cleavage, and it left nothing to be imagined. I had intended to wear it on my wedding night, but that night was so fast and furious, I never got a chance to even put it on. Everything could be seen through the ultra-fine mesh of chiffon, my breasts and areolas were a soft, pink compliment to the snow-white material. The soft folds of chiffon draped open in a cascading tier on both sides, drawing aside to bare my midriff, hemmed to the bottom of my butt, and it float easily as I took a step. It was designed to reveal my form with a certain elegance, and perhaps innocence. But my innocence was lost long ago, and now it just looked revealing. I dug around for panties. The matching ones. Then with a start I looked up into the mirror with a realization. If I wore them, I'd likely never see them again. So I trashed the idea and finished readying myself, including placing a dash of perfume in my trimmed pubic hair. I had to get on all fours to dig into my closet for the white patent-leather heels, but I needed that extra four inches badly. Shiny and near-new, the blood-red soled Laboutin's were a perfect statement. Stepping into them, I primped and fluffed my babydoll, and gave a last check of my reflection before going to the front door and pulling on my black raincoat. Grabbing my keys and my purse, I locked the door behind me, almost trembling as I left for an uncertain night.

The evening was calm, thankfully, though it was cold. I could almost see my breath as I walked to the car. I took a moment to look down as I walked, and was pleased to see that even as I walked, the coat remained mostly closed, just a small flap of coat opening to reveal a glimpse of my legs. I got in the car and let it idle before driving off. As I sat there, I thought to myself. "What the hell am I doing?"

I was shaking my head as I drove to the downtown area. I didn't know what I was going to say, how I was going to say it, what I was going to do. Would I just throw myself at him? Would I play coy? What if he took the initiative? Would I resist? Could I? I was glad it took me a few extra minutes to find the area of those apartments. My mind was so overloaded that locating it was harder than I thought.

I did, however, have the presence of mind to park a couple of blocks away. This time, truly no one knew where I was, or what I was doing. I was completely on my own. I looked in the mirror one last time, and dabbed at a small smear of my lipstick, and opened the door. My heart was pumping intensely, and my whole body started to quiver. With one heeled-foot on the ground, I was getting ready to step into the next part of my life. Then with a loud ring, my cell-phone rang.

I nearly screamed, I was so startled, and I slammed the door closed, yelling an obscenity to the windshield. I hadn't realized how on edge I had become, and the innocent call on the phone had nearly given me a stroke. My hand went to my chest, and I held it there, trying to recover my breath, when it rang again. Taking a deep breath, I answered it. "Hello?"

"Hi, Honey! It's me! I landed just fine, and I am on my way to the hotel. I have to meet my boss for dinner, so I'll probably not be back until you are asleep. Get some rest, and I'll call you tomorrow! I love you!"

That last sentence kind of struck me in the heart, but at the same time, it did nothing to dissolve my resolve. I smiled into the phone, and told him I was glad he was safe, and to have fun. I told him I loved him and clicked off. I took a deep breath and shook my head. Then I tossed the phone in the glove compartment. No more surprises. Well, not unexpected ones. I made sure it was safe to get out, and I left the car, locking my keys and purse inside it. We had a spare hide-away key hidden in the bumper, just because I lost my keys twice, leaving me stranded. I knew I could get home, once I made it back to my car. So after taking a moment to straighten my coat, and looking around me, I started down the street, puffs of cold air blowing from my lungs as the night grew colder. My heels clicked and clacked on the sidewalk, the concrete wet in some areas from errant sprinklers, and I gingerly stepped around some of the deeper puddles. I was surprised to realize that even though the sun had gone down, it was still early. Early enough there should have been cars and trucks on the road. I only saw two the entire three block walk.

I did notice that the neighborhood had indeed changed, even in that short distance. It went from low-rent and run-down, to down-right decrepit. I could see that the only stores around were for lower-income earners. Liquor stores, pawn shops, and a few of those same-style motels or apartments I was looking for. Small, holding maybe two dozen rooms, they all opened onto a center parking area, with a small swimming pool that was fenced off. Lights were either burned out or flickering, and the eerie shadows they would cast inside gave me a lump in my throat. Those few that did work showed little more than where the trash was littered. Even the names of the businesses were often broken. More than one said that the establishment was "OPE".

There were several small apartment complexes along the way, including the one between two seedy motels. The lone, bare light bulb was the only illumination to the entryway, and it only brightened the short walls of the hallway. What lay beyond was very dark, indeed. I was standing in the very parking lot where I had been victimized the month previous, so I knew the layout of the building, just not the contents. I shivered, both from anxiety and the desire I felt. I took a deep breath, my gut-check as it were. Did I really want to do this? The butterflies in my stomach spoke loudest. Yes! So I took my first tentative step into the light of the bulb, and quickly through, my shape silhouetted as the light fell behind me. Just as I feared, I couldn't see a thing, but I felt I was being watched.

My knees were shaking with the stress of what I was doing, and it was all I could do to keep my teeth from chattering. I stood off to the side, to let my eyes adjust to the darkness, and as I waited, I could hear the odd voice or two, conversing, and the muted sounds of a television in one of the apartments. The shades were drawn, so I could only see slivers of light, the lonely beams casting a shaft across the sides of the walkway. Suddenly, my mind was flashing with all sorts of thoughts. Somehow, my plan, my fantasy, had all revolved around finding the one man. One of the toughest, and perhaps ugliest black men I had ever seen, and seeing only him. Now, here I was, wearing a soft, thin babydoll, thigh high hosiery, heels, and a raincoat. My plan came to a screeching halt. I found the area, but foolishly assumed he would be out in the open and easy to find.

I let my eyes adjust to the dim light and then began to simply walk. Along the sidewalk into the complex, listening here and there, casually. My heels made small clicking and scratching noises on the ground, and I accidentally kicked an empty aluminum can. I could feel that I was being watched, but like before, I decided to hold my head up high. My thinking went that if I looked like I belonged there, no one would bother me. I reached those stairs, the ones that lead to my current state, and with a moment's hesitation, I proceeded to climb them. With my coat belted shut, I was able to use my hand on the railing, and climb more easily that last time, of course, I wasn't also carrying two bags of meals and worrying of the hem of my skirt, like I had last time I was in that place. After reaching the top, I stepped down to that door, the apartment when I had been raped before, and stopped at the door. Pausing, my heart was thudding heavy in my chest, and I was almost ready to turn back. It was a sudden yell from below that startled me, and I stayed put until it was over. Nothing much, just two dwellers in what must have been a dingy apartment on the bottom floor yelling for something. My small fingers reached out for the door now, polished fingernails glinting in the moonlight. The knob was cold to my touch, and I closed my eyes softly and took a breath. If he was there, I was not going back. I tried the knob softly, and indeed, it opened, still unlocked, whether by design or breakage. I pushed the door in a fraction of an inch. It was black inside, and fortunately, no one appeared home.

I stepped in, and remembered there was no electricity, and therefore no light. I stepped carefully, almost trying to tiptoe into the room. Ears on high alert, I could hear moaning from the bedroom. I stepped closer now, and through the moonlight darkness, I could see the unmistakable form of a man and a woman, copulating. I stood there, mesmerized, as the two lovers fornicated, her voice a whimper, and his a low moan, each in time with the other, and the sounds of two bodies in collision almost echoing off the walls. Somehow, I found it all so erotic, and belatedly, as I stood there, I felt a drip inside my leg. My body was moistened, and ready, as if it was me on the bed, and that man screwing me. Part of me wished it was. Carefully, I backtracked, lest I got caught, and finally, after what seemed like an excruciating minute or two, I was able to escape to the landing and down the steps. I was met at the bottom with a big hand on my wrist. I gasped and looked first at the hand, and then along the arm and to the face. "You made it back, whitebread..." was all the ugly black thug said.

I looked at him, and suddenly my plan evaporated. I had no clue what to say. Or even what to do. The one thing I knew I didn't want was a public display. So I poised myself, leaving his hand on my wrist, and I looked at him. "We need to talk..." was all I said, and I let my voice trail off.

He grinned, stained teeth and a wide grin. Somehow, the grin did little to improve his appearance. He was ugly, and I doubt plastic surgery could help him. He smirked. "You got no proof that the lil' bastard inside you is mine..." he boasted in that gravelly deep and sinister voice he had.

I shook my head. "Not here. Find a place inside... please." The please was made almost as an afterthought. I was trying to appear confident, almost aloof, when what I really wanted to do was fall to my knees and suck his cock right there. But he acquiesced, and nodded. "Follow me" was all he said. His steps were much longer in stride than mine, and in my heels, I had to almost quick-step to keep up. The quick patter of my heels interrupted by the less-frequent thuds of his heavy boots echoed off the wall as he made his way, until we reached a corner door, almost underneath the other apartment. He pivoted and grasped the doorknob, and in one motion leaned against the door to pop it open. It gave way with a squeak.

"I oughta' bitch about that door..." he said, leading me into his place, "but it would do no damn good. I own the place."

My eyes leapt up in surprise, for I had no idea he was a landlord. I never would have thought he had the money. And as I looked about the place, I saw pictures and posters on it, many of his culture, and of his preference. Lewd images, posters like you might see in a mechanic's shop, and a wall covered in thumb-tacked photographs. The room wasn't brightly lit, just two lights, one in the kitchenette, and one in the room, but I could see well enough. I heard him rummage through his refrigerator as I looked at the pictures, my eyes narrowed to hopefully see just a bit better. It was then where I saw it. A picture of me, being raped and molested by those three homeless men. I don't remember seeing a flash, I don't remember hearing a camera, but the proof was right there. He drew up behind me and made a leering comment.

"I gotta' admit, whitebread, you sure looked like you were enjoying that." And he laughed.

I stood up and turned to face him, my heels properly together and my hands at my side. I wasn't sure if I was angry or afraid, but I was upset. "I gather that you are still holding copies somewhere?" I spoke with a hard edge in my soft voice.

My query was met with a laugh. "Hell no, bitch. I ain't smart like that to save 'em. Don't even have a computer. I just get'em printed to save them." And he went on to explain some of his favorites. One was a picture of him and two women, it turned out they were mother and daughter, both of them naked along with him, but smiling. Another was a woman on what looked like the same bed I had been on. "That one tried to resist me... you can see how that ended." And he laughed more as the picture showed her, a woman of great beauty, actually, her clothing sliced open and her wrists and ankles bound.

All the while, my heart was hammering, and my body trembling. While the room was warmer than outside, it certainly wasn't the temperature of my own home, yet I felt like I was getting a sunburn, I was so hot. I undid the belt of my coat, and began to wave the flaps in and out to cool myself, my actions catching his attention. I quickly closed them up and concealed my body. He furrowed his brows, and removed his sunglasses. I had been wondering how he could see, even in the light of the room, as he lightly discarded them onto the counter. He took a sip from a beer bottle. He then looked at me and gave a backwards nod of his head. Bugged eyes stared at me.

"Whutchyou want, whitebread?"

I looked at him with the most level gaze I could. I stood there, in the lion's den, my heart and body screaming to take action. Yet at the same time I began to feel angry. How could I feel like this for him? How could I bring myself to be here? What was I going to do? Would I go through with my plan? What about my husband? All these questions rushed through in a flash. What I was doing was wrong, and I knew it, but I couldn't bring myself to stop.

"Do you remember what I said to you in the bedroom?"

He grunted. "Not even... there been a lot of ho's since you been here" was his snide reply.

Non-plussed, I spoke evenly as I opened my coat, and let it drop to the floor. I stood before him, naked except for my white heels, white thigh-highs and white chiffon babydoll. "I told you I would hate you for the rest of my life." It felt a little odd standing there like that, with my body basically nude to him while I told him I hated the man, yet it summed up all the feelings I had. I hated the man, yet I had to fuck him until I passed out.