No one in this fictional story is under 18. Please note this story is much darker than my normal stories, but it is a genre I wanted to explore, I hope that you like it.
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Mark was working late again, like he always did on Thursday's.
I love this old house that we had been renting for these past six months ... when the sun is shining.
At night I'm not afraid to admit it kind of freaks me out. It creaks and groans even when the weather is nice; but when it is stormy like tonight, the wind seems to howl through the drafty windows making all kinds of spooky sounds and the long driveway only makes it seem more isolated than the rest of the houses on the road.
We picked this house because it was an old-style farmhouse far from the city, it was a fresh start for both of us.
We needed away from the distractions of lives that had gotten way too complicated.
Mark was an accountant and very successful, if not a little dull; but he needed to get away from an overbearing and controlling family. He came from "old money" and he had been expected to help run the family business.
My background was definitely from the "other side of the tracks." I had worked as an exotic dancer since getting out of high school. College had not been in the cards and I had no desire to work in a factory like everyone else in the rest of my family did.
I had done some dancing in high school and tried to get into the theatre, but to make ends meet I took some gigs in some strip clubs.
A few gigs became much more because the money was very good. As time passed my work and life had kind of blurred together in an unhealthy mix. I was finding that I was getting sucked into the darkness and my appetites for pleasure had been increasingly become, let's just say, more extreme.
One day I had just had enough after more than 10 years. I wasn't old, barely 28 but I had done virtually everything imaginable. Mark was a break from that world. He was from a wealthy family, he didn't care about my past, and we moved to this place.
My new life was everything my old life had not been.
As a dancer, I had always kept myself in good shape, running and exercising and I kept doing that now. I worked as a yoga instructor and dance teacher at the YMCA, ironically some days teaching "housewives" how to pole dance.
Lately though, I did find that Mark's 50-60-hour work weeks left me too much time alone, and our sex, while frequent, was extremely "vanilla," with nothing more exciting than me giving him a blow job and then missionary sex for 5 or 10 minutes. He did not want to explore anything else and was soon asleep each time. When I tried to get him to go down on me, even shaved, he thought it was dirty ... he had no idea.
I loved him and I knew I couldn't expect him to do the things that turned me on; so, I found myself spending time on-line, watching video's, masturbating alone and starting to fantasize more and more.
Thunder boomed and lightening lit the sky, bringing me back to reality. I wasn't some poor scared little girl, but on nights like this I would have much preferred for Mark to be home rather than for him to be working late, leaving me alone.
Supper time had come and gone and as the sky darkened, he finally called and said he would likely be home closer to midnight than the 8 pm he had thought, saying that he and his new boss were working late with an important client.
I cleaned up the supper dishes and put in an old movie, got myself a nice big glass of wine, and settled in to watch a movie.
Curled up on the couch, I was wearing an old pair of jeans, one of Mark's dress shirts, a bra and a black thong; sipping wine, I would have loved to have a dog or something to keep me company.
The storm seemed to be gaining intensity, I was worried the power might go off and sure enough after about 10 minutes of some really close lightening, the lights flickered once and then went off.
"Where the fuck are the candles," I swore to the empty space, I was mad because I wished Mark was here, and I was also scared at little, I had never liked thunder since I was a kid and being alone in the dark, in this house at night was not helping me stay calm.
I found the candles and lit 4 or 5 of them and thought I should call Mark. Grabbing my cell, I pressed the button to call and noticed my phone was dead.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," that was really dumb of me. That was just poor planning, I had meant to plug the phone in earlier after Mark called, but I just got distracted and forgot.
We hadn't got a landline because, "Who uses landlines anymore?" I remember Mark saying in his accountant voice.
Just then I happened to look out the window and saw the headlights of what looked like Mark's car coming up the driveway.
"Yay," I wasn't going to be alone after all; he must have finished up a lot sooner, and I started to feel much better now that I wouldn't be alone.
The wind howled again which distracted me and when I turned back to the window the lights were gone. There was no way he could have driven the rest of the way up the driveway in the time I looked away from the window.
Taking a candle, I went downstairs to the door to see if I could see his car, and just as I opened it, a gust of wind came up and blew out my candle and the spare one I had left by the stairs. Suddenly engulfed in total darkness I screamed, my scream was lost in the howl of the wind and just as suddenly, everything was illuminated by a blast of lightening.
I saw a car parked about 100' from the house with it's lights off, it wasn't Mark's car!
Quickly, I slammed the door close. In my previous life, I had learned a thing or two about handling bad situations, but this wasn't a good start: alone, no phone, no plan, and no time.
"What can I do, what can I do?" My mind raced through different scenarios. I wondered if I was overreacting.
Saying to myself out loud, "Anyone looking for help in the storm would have driven up to the door before turning off their lights."
Now I started to panic a little because we didn't really have anything, I could use to defend myself. I decided to hide instead, because at 5' 2" and 100 pounds, I wasn't going to intimidate too many people, unless they were under 8 years of age.
I ran from room to room before settling on crawling under the bed in the spare room. I moved the boxes we had stored under the bed and crawled between them, sometimes being small did have advantages.
Just as I finished, I heard a pounding on the door.
"Go away, go away," I prayed to myself, then I heard the door burst open as the old lock did virtually nothing to slow him down. Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall. From where I was upstairs, I heard him move around the main floor, and then after several minutes, I heard his boots start up the stairs.
"Where are you, sexy, I know you are here?" a loud masculine voice boomed over the sound of the storm.
"I followed you from work, god you were sexy, teaching all those overweight women how to pole-dance."
"I also know that your "boyfriend" works late on Thursday's, so we have lots of time," as he kind of sneered that, my blood ran cold, and I started to really get scared.
"No one is coming to help you, I have all the time I need," the fear started to make my hands shake, I forced myself to remain perfectly still, almost holding my breath.
I heard the boots go from room to room, the sound of things being tossed around, closets being opened as whoever it was searched for me.
A million escape thoughts raced through my mind, none of them good enough to try, even if I got out of the house, there was no place to go.
I heard the boots enter this room and I could see them as he walked past the end of the bed.
"Come out, come out, beautiful, I know you are here someplace, and I have a surprise for you and that sexy little body of yours." He said in a loud voice, so it would carry throughout all the rooms on this floor.
He shoved the boxes under the bed but they missed me and did not reveal my hiding spot.
He left the room and I could hear him in the hall, tossing things from the hall closet.
"Come on out you little bitch, I've seen that nice ass of yours out running, in those little shorts and tiny sports bra, its time that someone fucked you good, not like how your pretty boy does."
"What is he, a lawyer or an accountant?"
The wind made a creaking sound someplace in the house and I heard him run down the hallway and then down the stairs, the boots echoing silent house.
I started to breath again. A plan started to form in my head, if I could just get to my car, the keys were in the console, I could go out the backstairs, but I had to move quickly, while he was downstairs.
I decided to try, and if he had really gone down the stairs, I might have made it, I was just about to the back stairs when I felt strong arms grabbing me from behind, I screamed, and struggled. He had only pretended to go downstairs and waited to see if I would try to run.
One of his big hands was over my mouth, and the other roughly grabbed my chest and he lifted me off the floor. I struggled and squirmed as much as I could in his powerful hold.
"You're a strong bitch, I'll give you that, but go ahead and fight me, it just makes me harder," he said with contempt, and I could feel a growing bulge in his pants as he held me tighter with my back to him.
"You're going to find out what a real man does to a little bitch like you," he sneered as carried me to the bedroom and he threw me onto the bed. I had tried to use my legs on the door frame to stop us, but he was just too strong.
He was on me before I could move, he wore a mask and I clawed at it, but he quickly pinned my arms. My frame was just too small for a person easily over 6' and 200+ pounds.
He rolled me over and pinning me, he used one of those plastic ties to handcuff my hands together, I fought and kicked at him, connecting several times with his shins.
"You little fuck, you're going to regret that," he slapped me across the face.
Stunned but not hurt, he had not used any of the power that those arms had and the blow really had no strength, but it still shocked me.
Before I could do anything else, he stuck a ball gag in my mouth and put the elastic around my head.
With me bucking and kicking, he had to struggle to grab my legs, finally though he managed to pin me again.
Reaching into his coat pocket he pulled out several lengths of rope, using one of them, he tied my legs together.
"That should hold you for a minute, that fucking screaming was getting on my nerves."
I couldn't tell much about him, other than I could detect the smell of rum on him. He was wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, a black balaclava and bomber style jacket. His skin looked white, and he was powerfully strong.
I watched him tie one end of two ropes to the bed post and then he yanked me over to one and without untying my legs, he attached one foot to one rope and tied it.
