A Gift of Stilettos

It has been nearly two weeks since sweet-faced Oliver came to my house. He shocked me with a gift of sexy high heels, and, during his rape, he made it clear that I am to be his "girlfriend". He would be back to rape me again, and I am to have no other men in my life. Did that happen?

Even now it seems like something in a dream, hazy and far away. But there are the shiny black shoes by the door, untouched since I placed them there that night, after he left. I remember he instructed me to have them on before I open the door for him, next time he arrived. The demand makes me feel trapped with the certainty of his return. But I have not seen him, nor has he called. I'm beginning to feel a little more relaxed. Maybe he won't be back.

I've been curious to see if he is even home anymore, but there is something too odd about purposefully visiting my personal rapist. I just can't do it! The idea is ludicrous I tell myself as I drive by on my way to work, my eyes forward, aching to slip off a sidelong glance at his driveway. My cheeks flush as I allow myself a furtive peek. Have his shades been drawn? Are there any noticeable signs of life in the few seconds I glance at the front of his house? It looks still, as if no one is home.

I haven't considered calling the police. I'm still not sure if this is rape. After all, I kept his gift, and I didn't actually say no to him. Too much time has passed now anyway and it's doubtful anyone would believe my story.

Could it be he's been caught for some other rape and he's sitting in jail? I can just see him, caged and frustrated in his cell as I drive down the boulevard. I grip the wheel to keep my hands from shaking and jump, startled as my cellphone rings. I exhale, long and slow, letting my tensed shoulders drop. It's my best friend, Jaqui.

"Hey, Jacks, what's up?" I consciously force a normal, light tone in my voice, cradling the small, slim phone to my ear, smoothly navigating the s-curve onto the freeway.

"Marlaaaaaa! I was getting worried....no one has really heard from you for what? Like, two weeks! Well, except that message you left. Are you still sick? We're getting together tonight and guess who's gonna be there? Daniel!!" She doesn't breathe when she talks, I swear.

Daniel. Daniel will be there. He's the man I met the very evening Oliver came over. I was very interested in seeing him again. He is the sort of man I could see myself with long term. He's smart, funny, charming, and just rough enough around the edges to inspire trust. I felt an instant connection with Daniel the moment we met.

"Where?" Oliver's threats faded and I made my plans.

"It's called My Wife's Place, you know, that new bar and grill near the-"

"Yes, what time?"

"Oh, around seven? Gotta run, glad you're better babydoll, bye." Click. I love the way her office phone ends the call with that old fashioned land-line sound.

What am I going to wear? Something hot, but not too hot. Something modest yet curve-hugging. I swing into my parking spot at work happy and brimming with excitement about the get together tonight. It feels like years since I had a bounce in my step. I know I'm going to be alright. I stride toward the elevators with confidence, flashing a bright good morning smile at everyone passing. I am myself again.

My day passes quickly and I can do no wrong. Its been one of those charmed days where everything goes my way. I've have the golden touch it and it lasts through lunch and my afternoon duties. I have not run a stocking, broken a nail, spilled anything on any part of my snug gray suit. Every file was in it's place today. Clients were pleasant, and the receptionist actually worked! Good grief, could life get any better? I hope that Daniel will be glad to see me.

Even rush hour traffic seemed to part just for me, like paparazzi to a star. I know the dress I'll be wearing. It's been in the back of my mind all day, of course, with my subconscious working it out. The jewelry, the stockings, the thong and bra set, and...the perfect shoes. Oh yes, I'm going to, and why not? They are gorgeous shoes. Sexy, sizzling, alluring. I'd feel guilty had I purchased them myself. They are an indulgence I cannot afford.

I shimmy into my fitted red satin dress with the innocent white piping, straining to zip it up in that hard-to-reach mid back area. Thanks to my yoga classes, I'm just flexible enough to get the job done. A quick transfer of items to a beaded clutch, more lipstick, grab keys, yes. For Pete's sake I'm trembling with excitement! Did I retro to high school?

Okay. Breathe. Steady. Slipping on the shoes. I feel so incredible in them. This will be fine. Don't think about Oliver. I need this night like I needed my perfect day. I feel great. I look stunning in the hallway mirror. I take the plunge outdoors, locking up behind me and tossing my long silky hair over my shoulder as I head to my car. I turn the key in the ignition. My dependable ride hums. So far, so good.

I don't look as I pass his house. Noway. Nothing is stopping me now. The valet takes my key with a smile and nod and I breeze into the bustling restaurant. I feel eyes on me, gliding up and down my tall, elegant form, perhaps sliding from my beautiful face, down the graceful line of my neck to rest discreetly, perhaps not so discreetly, on the velvety valley between my plump breasts. Maybe eyes are lingering at the firm curve of my taut ass, or the delicate shape of my long legs as I pass, led to a table full of laughter and wine and friends.

I nod a greeting all around the table as the host seats me, right between Daniel and Jaqui. I can feel my eyes brimming and I blink back inappropriate tears of relief. I couldn't be happier right now, seated between my best friend, leaning to answer her hug, and the man I hope to be dating. I turn to him and press my hand over his with a quick squeeze and a warm smile. His eyes are the color of the sea and they sparkle with delight at me. Oh good! He is as happy to see me as I am to see him.

There are two other couples here besides Jaqui and her date. Everyone is chatting about the latest buzz in politics, the slew of celebrity deaths, and how delicious the wine Daniel chose is. The food arrives without delay, and more wine is poured. I decide to try a small amount. I don't normally drink but I feel so celebratory. Daniel obliges and as he pours the dark red liquid into my wineglass. I suddenly feel a hot breath on my neck.

My heart drops, I freeze, and time itself stops. I am dizzy as I turn to look and yes, it is Oliver, smiling into my face, with fury hidden there, in his eyes.

"Hello lover, sorry I'm late, and I really can't stay anyway. I was in the area and wanted to pop in to meet everyone anyway." He kissed my neck again and stood up, with his hand clamped tightly over my shoulder. He looked around at the startled faces of the party, and gave them all his most disarming grin.

"Hi folks, I apologize for the interruption, I'm Oliver." Another disarming smile, and a raise of brow as most look surprised at his sudden, unannounced appearance.

"I guess Marla hasn't broken the news yet, ooops." He pretends awkwardness, but I can feel his true nature. He looks down at me, cuing me to step in and smooth things over. My stammering and embarrassment however, are real. A glance tells me that Daniel's eyes are on his plate. I can feel Jaqui staring at me.

"News, Marla?" She puffs a disapproving breath at me and bores a hole with her gaze. I know she's upset at having fixed me up with Daniel to find that I'm already dating someone. I wish I could tell her the truth.

"Well, it's not really news, yet. I mean I..." His grip tightens on my shoulder. I just blurt out an answer.

"Oliver is my neighbor and he........we.....um, we are dating." There. Its out. My heart is racing, though his grip eases up. My eyes fall to my own plate as Oliver leans again to kiss my neck.

"Nice to meet everyone, sort of meet, everyone. But I have to run." He turns to me with a communicative look. I know it's not going to be good later. My company gives smiles and warm, polite words of parting as Oliver steps away, blowing me a kiss.

The rest of dinner is a bit strained with Jaqui and Daniel silent on my flanks. I excuse myself and head to the ladies room. Jaqui is too mad to follow. That's damned angry. As I push into a stall, I am shoved roughly in, catching myself from falling on the back wall, arms outstretched. It's Oliver. His hands grip my breasts as he presses his hard cock against my ass.

"You dirty girl. You want to be treated like a whore, I'll treat You that way." He roughly squeezes my full tits, and jerks my dress up and over my ass. His finger is inside me, raping, merciless, easily tugging orgasms out of me, making me give up my pleasure to him from the depths of my tightness. His voice sounds sinister as he pulls me back against his angry hard-on and pistons my dripping pussy. I fight to stay silent as he humps hard into me, making me stumble like a fresh foal.

"This is mine, Marla. Mine. Mine. Mine. You. Fucking. Whore." He punctuates each calm statement, each raspy whisper, with a vicious, claiming thrust, rewarded with my juices, running down his shaft. A ripe little peach speared, giving up her nectar to the blade.

"Sexy lil stockings, fuck. Were you planning on fucking that guy out there? In the shoes I gave you, huh? You know what I'd do to you, don't you, Marla?" He gives my clit a wicked pinch and lets his load empty into my spasming cunt.

"I'll take these." He pulls his spent cock from my suckling pussy and rips the lacy red thong from me, jerking sharply downward, holding them by the soaked crotch. He tucks the naughty rag into his pocket as he leaves me there, shaking, cum running down my long legs.

"Get your ass home pretty fucking soon, Marla. You have some 'splainin to do." This time his voice sounded amused. Frightening how quickly his moods change. With a smack to my left ass cheek, he departs, leaving me feeling used like a whore, indeed. I dread going home, but I have to, or things will get worse for me.

I gather a big wad of toilet paper and tissue off my legs and well drilled pussy. At the sink, I inspect my face and smooth my dress. What am I going to say to everyone now? Sorry I have a rape to catch, gotta go? I wish Jaqui wasn't angry. As if she could sense my need, she pushed through the heavy door, exhaling audibly.

"We saw Oliver leaving just now. What the fuck? Was he in here with you?" Oh great, real discreet, Oliver. I turned to her, crimson cheeks telling all.

"Oh my gawd, Marla, you did it in here? What's going on? Who is he?" What can I say to her to explain all this? I couldn't be more humiliated. My friends think I'm cheating on my new boyfriend. My best friend thinks I'm hiding things from her. Turning to her, I shook my head and stepped close, my hands on her upper arms, and my eyes pleading.

"Jacks, you gotta believe me. Some things are going to seem weird for me, ok? But believe me, I'm not trying to be all...secretive. I'm....trying some new things. I don't know, I'm just.......going to see where this goes." Her eyes shifted from one of mine to the other, trying desperately to find some logic. Her trust in me is the only thing saving me right now.

"Ok, ok. Whatever. Don't tell me. You just be careful, alright?" She gathered me in a much needed hug, sighing like her little sister just brought home the wrong boy.

"Will you say something to Daniel for me? I don't know, just...tell him I like him, ok? I'm going to go quickly. My dress is stained. I'm so embarrassed." She nods, checks out my dress, hands me my purse and makes me promise to call her later.

I scoot out the long way around the dining room, hoping no one will notice the splatters on the hem of my dress and the long run in my right stocking. The valet notices. I roll my eyes as I drive away. Of course I can't get away without at least one person seeing my shame. I just don't have sex in public bathrooms. I've never been that wild.

I turn off the motor and sit in my driveway for a few minutes, gathering my will. My hands are shaking and I place them in my lap. My heart is racing in anticipation. What is Oliver going to do? I jump as Oliver opens my door abruptly. Like a gentleman, he smiles, extending his arm, offering his hand. I take it warily, knowing that once inside, his facade will diminish. He uses my keys to unlock the door, and escorts me inside. Once we are in, he turns the deadbolt with a deliberate pause. His voice is quiet.

"Take off the dress." He turned slowly toward me, and his eyes were cold, fixed on me, a specimen under his microscope. I strain again to unzip the tightly fitted garment, slip it off and gently lay it over a chair. I stand silently in my red lace bra and nude stockings, held up with a black lace garter belt. I can't stop shaking. I wonder if he plans to beat me the way he threatened last time he was here.

"Bra." His voice is strange and calm. He sits down heavily and produces a roll of duct tape from the deep pocket of his black jacket. I take off my bra and lay it over the dress. His eyes are on mine as if he refuses to look at my body and the "fuckme" shoes.

He gestures for my approach. I walk to him, my long hair in large, sexy curls cascading down my well toned torso. My vintage mother of pearl pendant nestles at the hollow of my throat, and I've nothing else on but the torn, nude stockings and the six inch stilettos he'd given me two weeks ago. He wraps the tape slowly around my knees, leaving a two inch space between them. He then wraps the tape around the gap too, fashioning "cuffs".

"Now go make me tea like you did before, Marla." He watches me struggle, walking awkwardly, clumsily, taking tiny steps toward the kitchen. I can feel his wicked grin against my backside. My cheeks are burning and my own fury is rising. I feel so humiliated as I make his tea and step like a wind-up doll, bringing his tray back carefully. My full, round swells of tit flesh bounce lewdly with each jerking little doll step. My lovely high cheeks flame with embarrassment. I obey as he guides me to his thigh, bidding me to bend at the waist to set his tea tray on the table.

His hands run up the back on my legs, gripping each cheek, testing the firmness, spanking the taut flesh as if I'm stock to be purchased. I pour the steaming liquid from the pretty pot into the cup. He stops me as I begin to pour the agave nectar. He raises the spoon to my bare, exposed pussy and pushes the cool metal in. I whimper, afraid its going to hurt. It doesn't. He is gentle with it and coats it well.

"This is how I want my tea sweetened at your house, baby. The only nectar I need is right here." He stirs his hot tea with the honeyed spoon, smug with triumph.I find his tone curious and yelp with surprise as he grabs my hair at that moment, jerking me roughly to the floor. My knees clatter on the hardwood surface, one hand on the couch, the other palm on the table. He grips my hair tightly at the roots and picks up his cup with a steady hand. He blows at the steam before sipping, swallowing, and moaning in pleasure.

"My last girlfriend is history. Her disobedience was tedious. But. I shoved my dick down her throat so hard she'll never forget me. I don't think she'll ever forget me anyway. I made her taste you, my new sweetheart. It was my parting gift to her, allowing her to clean my cock one last time."

I shudder at the thought of some poor girl choking on his sticky penis. He laughs as my expression broadcasts my thoughts. His heavy hand pats my head as he leisurely sips his spiked tea. I wonder if he means he saw her tonight, or two weeks ago. I feel the need to reach out to him, and soothe his inner fury. His beast-like, primal energy is thick and heavy in the air, nearly tangible. How hard can it be to pretend, just like he does. I reach out and caress his leg, just a little.

"That's it, Marla, show me how much you love your Master. Don't make me hurt you like I did with her. Tonight I saved your ass, and you know it. This is your first, and last chance to be a good girl. You can thank me with your sexy little mouth on my cock. If I'm happy I might let your beg to spread those perfect legs for me again." Ironically, he did save me tonight. Had I even kissed Daniel, I'm certain Oliver would be bruising me up right now.

He unbuckles his belt and pulls it from the loops, placing it around my neck, threading the leather through and cinching it snugly. He grins down at me as he pulls my beautiful face toward his stiff prick. He holds the belt like a dog's leash, insistently pulling me til my mouth is right at his cockhead. Oh fuck no, I don't want to suck him! I almost pull away and manage to get ahold of myself before that happens. I want to be hurt even less, so I part my full, glossed lips and look up at him. I watch his expressions as I take his crown into my pretty mouth, wrapping my glossy pink beestung lips around his shaft.

The corners of his mouth curve upwards as I register a strange flavor. He said his parting gift to her was allowing her to clean his cock one last time. Could he have fucked her before leaving earlier? I thought he must have seen her two weeks ago when he left here sticky. My lil nose wrinkles up at the thought of tasting another girl and he shoves my head down hard, forcing his cock in deep, choking me, lodging in my tight throat.

"Get used to it, girl. You'll be tasting your cunt a lot. My girlfriends are required to suck my dick clean after I rape their horny slits." It didn't occur to me it is my own juices from the restaurant, when he raped me in the bathroom.

He wraps his fist in my long hair and uses it as a handle to force my mouth up and down his shaft. Horny slits? I hate the way my cheeks flame up at that phrase. He points out the one reason I can't bring myself to report him. I constantly cum for him. That doesn't seem like nonconsensual sex. My naivete keeps me prisoner in many ways. His grip loosens and he begins to pet me again.

"Now suck it like you worship it, Marla. Pretend it's a yummy popsicle, sweetheart. Use your tongue, and tighten those fuckable lips, babydoll." His grunts disgust me.

I follow his instructions, bobbing my head up and down, sucking hard, swirling my tongue, licking it against the spot at the top, beneath the carona. That makes him moan and thrust his hips. My delicate jaws feel broken, jacked wide to accept his girth. Suddenly he pulls free of my dripping mouth, with my head held still in his hands.

"Beg, slut, beg to spread, beg sweetly." He trembles at the edge of his orgasm.

"Please, Oliver, Master, please, pretty please let me spread my legs for you. Please, I need to spread my pretty, long legs for You, Master I-"

"Maybe next time, bitch." His brutal thrust jams his meat far down in my throat, over and over, gagging me hard. My eyes spill over tears, and drool splutters from my lips. He holds his cock deep as he shoots jet after jet of hot jizz down my throat. My nose bubbles as I try hard to swallow, his threats in my ear.

"Don't you dare spill any, Marla, don't you dare spill a drop. I'll let you spread those hot legs next time." He knows how to drive home humiliation. I struggle to swallow his thick, hot load, afraid to let any seep from the corners of my mouth. I tighten my lips and suck hard, swallowing frantically. His hands reward me with soft caresses against my face and hair.

Afterward, as he tucks away his spent rapecock and rises to leave, he draws his knife from his pocket. He clicks it open as he watches my face for reaction, grinning darkly as my body jerks. He leans down to cut the tape and touches the blade to my skin, trailing the sharp tip lightly down my shapely calf. My breathy whimpers elicit another horny groan from his raspy throat, but he merely folds the blade and tucks it away. My teary eyes half close in relief.