Anna woke, freezing cold, parched and aching inside and out, in the early hours of the morning. She gritted her teeth and rolled painfully off the still-damp towel beneath her, pushing it off the bed and wriggling beneath the quilt, groping for her iPad.
She tried three times to log into the forum before realising that Hawkley had changed her password. She badly wanted to talk to Raf but didn't dare Skype him without warning. Right now, she thought, he was probably sleeping peacefully next to his wife. It was too risky. (In this, Anna was wrong. His wife was sleeping but Raf was pacing his lounge, desperately worried about Anna and impotently wishing he could drive down to Kent and gut BadNeighbor#16 in his bed.) She sobbed broken-heartedly into her pillow for some minutes before sternly telling herself to pull herself together and crawling out of bed to pull on a bathrobe.
Very slowly, she hobbled downstairs. The light was blazing in the kitchen and the blind was open. She was standing at the sink drinking a large glass of water, her robe gaping open and displaying her naked breasts, when she realised that Hawkley was standing opposite in his own kitchen, watching her. He smiled, giving her a creepy finger-wave and blowing a kiss. Furious, she slammed her glass down on the draining board and lunged for her front door, ready despite the internal agony to charge across the street and claw at his smug face. But the front door was locked and her bunch of keys nowhere to be found. When she returned to the kitchen, she saw he was dangling it from his fingers, laughing sadistically at her despair.
Defeated, unable to bear watching the bastard gloat, she returned to bed.
She woke again at eight thirty, to the sound of footsteps on the stairs and jaunty whistling. Hawkley came into the bedroom bearing a breakfast tray of tea, orange juice, cereal and a silver bud vase containing a red rose. He sat on the edge of the bed and balanced the tray on her lap.
"Wakey wakey, sleepyhead," he said in a sing-song voice. "I have big plans for you today."
She sat up and raised her fists to swing at him but he was too quick, seizing her wrists and kissing them before forcing her back onto the pillows. He put the tray on the floor, climbed astride her and put his face very close to hers. "Try that again, sweetheart," he hissed, his voice thick with menace, "and I promise you will wish you'd never been born."
She remembered his fist opening and closing inside her and gave a small nod, tears streaming down her face. Satisfied, he dismounted and placed the tray back on her belly, dropping her keyring on top.
"I had my own set cut," he grinned. "Much more convenient than borrowing yours." He took her wrists again and pulled her upright. At the thought that he could enter her house - and enter her - at any time, a fat tear dropped off the end of her nose into the cereal bowl.
"Eat," he said. "Quick."
After she'd forced down a few mouthfuls, he dispatched her to the bathroom.
"Get washed and do your hair and make up," he instructed her. "I'll pick out some clothes for you. You and I are going out. Ah! Right on time! There's the postman."
Anna stood beneath the steaming water, remembering her good mood of the day before: how she'd swallowed the postman's load on her knees in the hallway after agreeing to take Hawkley's package in. Big fucking mistake, she thought ruefully. (Not the semen, though. That had been delicious.)
When she emerged, towelling her blonde hair, Hawkley was sitting on her bed examining the contents of an open parcel. He looked up. "Hair and make up, remember."
She began to blow dry her hair as he continued to fiddle. "It was for me," he explained, loudly to be heard over the roar of the drier. "He brought it here because I was out again. Imagine his surprise and disappointment when I opened the door to him! And imagine mine when he didn't ask me to suck his dick." He laughed merrily at his own wit.
Anna finished drying her hair and applied her make up carefully.
When she put down her brushes, Hawkley said, "Show me."
She looked at him. "Ah, beautiful! Anyone would want to fuck you. And pretty much anyone can. Now, come and lie on the bed."
She lay down, trembling, wondering what he planned to do to her. He parted her legs and she whimpered in terror as he picked up the lubricant he had used yesterday to prepare his arm for the fisting.
"No, no, Anna. I feel no impulse to punish you today. No pain, only pleasure." He was holding a small pink device in his hand, and covering it thoroughly with lubricant. "Look: my new toy. It's called a We-Vibe. This end fits inside your pussy, like so, the ribbed part stimulating your g-spot. And this end rests on your clitoris, like so. It will be held in place by your knickers." He pulled a pair of her knickers - sky-blue lace with criss-crossed ribbon at the back - over her thighs. "And I control it using this remote." He showed her the device he held in his hand.
"Let's see how it works, shall we?"
