It's 8pm. I've been out on a date with Mike again, but tonight he has an overseas flight he must catch, so he drops me off early. He walks me upstairs to my apartment and kisses me goodnight. He waits until I'm inside, then leaves. It's warm out, and I'm wearing just a sundress.
I throw my pocketbook on the couch and kick off my sandals. I've only been living here a month, ever since I walked out on Bob that one morning and never went back. I've heard through friends that he's been asking around, trying to find out where I've moved to, but no one will tell him. I'm more than a little shocked that he's never tried to contact me at work, but it's probably for the best.
Suddenly, there's a knock on the door, and I go to it quickly, thinking it's Mike coming back for another kiss. I pull the door open. Before I am given a chance to focus on the person standing there, I feel a pair of large, strong hands on my shoulders, and I'm shoved back into the apartment. The door slams shut, and I jump. I stumble somewhat as I'm thrown against the wall.
"You think you can hide from me, you fucking bitch?!"
The words come at me loud and a little bit slurry. I yell as I feel fingers tangle in my hair, yanking and drawing my face closer to him. I'm too stunned right now to say anything. It's Bob, and I can't believe his appearance. His eyes are bloodshot, and his face is scruffy with at least two days worth of stubble. His suit is rumpled, the first three buttons of his shirt are undone and a tie hangs loosely around his neck. His hand continues to dig deeper into my hair, while he moves to within inches of my face. He reeks of alcohol, and my eyes widen in shock. He was never a big drinker when we were together. I feel a tug at my heart as I realize that part of the reason he looks so bad is because of my sudden and unexplained departure. However, that doesn't stop the anger from building inside of me.
"Let go of me!" I say, gritting my teeth.
I can hear the rage in my voice, the level of it starting to rise. I raise my hand to grab his arm and try to work his hand from my hair. But he just jerks my head back, and it hits the wall with a thump. The unexpected pain causes my eyes to tear. But it also gives me a much needed jolt, waking me from my frozen stupor. I realize I need to get away from him, fast. One hand grabs a good chunk of his hair, while the other slaps him across the face, then shoves at him. His eyes narrow, and he smiles cruelly.
"Aw, come on baby-girl, you can to do better than that," he laughs, but there is no amusement in his voice, only an iciness that sends shivers down my spine.
He pins me to the wall with his body, crushing me, knocking the wind out of me. I struggle to catch my breath, feeling slightly dizzy. My mind is reeling, trying to make sense of what is happening. Bob was never a violent man, and his change in personality has me totally confused. But there's an underlying apprehension also...like I really don't know this person anymore....that maybe he really does intend to do me some harm.
He lets go of my hair, and I sigh. But the relief doesn't last long. With a quickness that startles me because of his drunken state, he grips my wrists, pushing them against the wall above my head. His hands are big, and he is able to maneuver one over both wrists, freeing his other to grab at a strap of my dress. I feel a sharp pain as his nails rake my skin when he roughly pulls the strap across my shoulder, letting it fall partly down my arm.
He steps back slightly, giving him some room to tug at the top of my dress, causing it to tear enough to expose a portion of my breast. His eyes flash, and he lets out an anguished groan. I blink back tears. I never realized I had caused him so much pain. By the time I left, I had convinced myself that he no longer cared about me.
"Look at you! This is how you went out tonight? No bra, tits jiggling and bouncing, and all for that bastard that took you home tonight!"
He's furious, tearing at my dress some more, continuing to scratch me in the process. He roughly grabs my tit, squeezing it painfully, then pinches and pulls at my nipple. I bite my lip and whimper slightly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing me yell out.
"Who is he?" He screams at me. "You walk out on me, leave me no note, no explanation and within a month, you're with this guy! Don't insult me and tell me you weren't seeing him before, you fucking whore!"
I wince at his words, especially the last one. Looking him in the eye, I respond in much too calm a tone.
"What did you expect?"
I shake my head, trying to pull my thoughts together. He has me so conflicted; one minute I'm feeling sorrow and hurt, the next, I'm seething with anger.
"You were ignoring me more and more. You became so distant and just downright mean at times. And when you did make love to me, it was like you were only going through the motions. I needed some excitement in my life."
Bob looks like I've just slapped him across the face again. A twinge of guilt overcomes me, but then quickly dissipates as I think of the predicament he's currently got me in.
"Excitement, eh? I'll show you some excitement, lover."
And with that he grabs my jaw with his free hand and shoves his mouth against mine. Holding my face still, he kisses me with a brutishness I never knew he possessed. His stubble is burning the skin around my mouth, and I try to bite his lip to stop him. But he pulls back before I can grab a hold of it. His mouth moves and rubs against my neck, then down to the tender skin on my shoulders. He bites and sucks me, leaving angry hickey marks. During this ordeal, I continue to struggle, trying to free my hands, but I can't. I curse at him...I kick at him...but he doesn't seem to care. When I finally connect my heel with a shin, he yells, then slaps me hard on the cheek.
I spit at him and cry out, "Does that make you feel good, you piece of shit? You feel good that you just hit a woman?"
He gives me that cold look again, and I shiver. "Not a woman, Lynn," he answers. "A fucking little whore."
That word again. It drives me crazy to hear it thrown at me, and I start struggling as hard as I can to break free of him. He lets go of my wrists, grabs me by the hair again and drags me to the couch, throwing me down on to it with great force. I hit my head on the shoulder and see stars. He sits on my hip and pulls the tie away from his neck. My reactions are rather slow, having not fully recovered from that last blow, and he is able to tie my wrists together in front of me with no problem. He scans my living room, looking for something, but I have no idea what. Then his eyes light up. He grabs me by the binding around my wrists and drags me over to the kitchen doorway. There are some hanging planter hooks in the ceiling, left by the previous tenant. He ties the remaining bit of loose tie to one of them, and I'm forced to stand nearly on my tip toes. He rubs my face with his hand, glaring at me.
"We'll see how boring you think I am after tonight, sweetheart."
Then he tears at my dress again, ripping it completely from my body so that all I am wearing is a pair of thong underwear. He runs his hand over an exposed part of my ass, then slaps it hard.
"You slut!" he exclaims, as he rips them down my legs.
He steps back, and I kick at him. He moves out of the way easily, and I miss. I lift both feet off the ground, thinking that maybe my weight will pull the hook out of the ceiling, but no such luck. Bob's watching all this with both an angered and amused look on his face as he takes off his shirt. I'm becoming very frightened, but I'll be damned if I'll let him know that, so I keep tugging on my bindings, swearing at him as I do so. I suddenly realize that my breasts are jiggling and swaying with each attempt I make to free myself. I catch Bob staring, and he grins menacingly.
"You've always had the most beautiful tits, Lynn. Keep doing that, I'm enjoying the show."
"Fuck you," I answer. "Stare all you want, they're not yours anymore."
A stinging pain in my breast causes me to screech and yell - "what the fuck?" Bob has just slapped me hard with an open palm and my upper body jerks. I try to step back, but am held captive by my binds. His face is blank, and I scrunch mine and turn away, seeing him prepare to strike me again. Over and over he slaps at my tits, using both forward and backhanded motions, sometimes connecting with a nipple. My eyes are tearing, and I can hear myself crying for him to please stop. My tits bounce painfully every time I jerk my body. But there's also an underlying excitement starting to build in me, and I'm stunned.