Okay, here's how the whole sordid thing got started. You're probably going to think this is all sounds pretty stupid, and yeah, no doubt I made plenty of mistakes. But keep in mind, at the time, I had no reason to think things would spin out of control the way they ultimately did. Or at least out of my control - not so much his. That was the entire point, after all. In spite of everything, I had still trusted him. We had been through a lot together over the years, and despite the rather ugly way things had ended, I thought I still knew him. I had never known there was another side to him that he had kept hidden away those years. We had spent all that time together, and I still didn't know he was capable of those things he did, or that he was harboring those kind of thoughts.
Sure, what he had demanded had seemed weird, but harmless enough, at least initially. But if what he had wanted from me had seemed strange or gross, it also seemed pretty inconsequential. Of course, part of me was happy to see him again, and that's why I had given in so readily. But the greater portion of me knew this wasn't a healthy situation, what was past was past, and I just wanted to do whatever was necessary to see him gone. I knew he still loved me, though, even through the whole ordeal that much was clear. That's why I never felt like I was in any danger - how I had known he would ever do anything to actually hurt me. No, I variously felt annoyed, angry, indignant, and at times, even humiliated, but never truly frightened. I guess that's what ultimately made the whole episode bearable.
I got home later than usual that night. Something had kept me at work, and then traffic had been horrible, so when I finally made him it home I was just plain exhausted. As I walked through the front door, and stepped into the living room, I sighed audibly in relief. I felt as if I could sleep for several days. Not possible, maybe, but I planned on eating a quick dinner and then hopping right into to bed. A solid ten hours or so, lazy as it might be, would do me a world of good. As I made my through the house, and headed toward the kitchen, something seemed off. I was still a bit distracted by what I had been finishing at work, and I really wasn't paying all that much attention. If I'm being perfectly honest, though, I was really just too tired to care. Nothing looked out of place, nothing that I could point specifically to, anyways, but there was a weird heaviness blanketing the air, nonetheless. If it had been any other day, I might have stopped to make a closer inspection of things, trusting my intuition and checking all the rooms in order to ensure that I was truly alone. Whether this would have given me enough warning to escape, I couldn't tell you. In all likelihood, things probably would have turned out much the same. Still, I should have listened to my gut instinct. At least then I might have had a fighting chance.
Before reaching the kitchen, I paused in front of the floor-length mirror that was hanging off the door to the coat closet. I wanted to briefly check myself out. Now, you probably think I did this out of vanity, but really, I was just curious if I looked as tired as I felt. And it turned out, in fact, I did look that way. At least somewhat. I frowned dourly. My dirty blonde hair was still more or less pulled back into a pony tail; however, a few stray wisps had started to float free. Also, while I didn't exactly have bags building beneath my eyes yet, there was definitely a certain weariness already visible there. The bright blueness of them still sparkled, but with just a smidge less sheen.
I smiled at myself then, in a comically exaggerated way, trying to liven up my appearance for the briefest of moments. Just as quickly, I dispersed with the facade. Who really cared; I was the only one here. This obvious realization made me frown, somewhat. Although, I'm not sure what else I really expected, considering all the circumstances. Tired and lonely. What fun company I would have made anyways, I thought to myself ironically. I then frowned even further as I inspected my figure in the reflection. I had obviously put on a little weight since breaking up with my boyfriend several months past, not that I had anyone to blame for it but myself. Life was just easier now, and appearances no longer seemed to matter quite as much.
I placed a hand over my stomach and breathed in deeply, causing my stomach to suck inward and my breasts to thrust out. Now that looked a little better, but who was going to walk around puffed-up like that all day? That was the one good thing about adding a few pounds, I had never looked near as voluptuous. I had always been a little on the skinny side, a bit too skinny, some said, but now I was sporting the kind of womanly curves that I had never dreamed of before. As I was pretty short, only about 5'3" on a good day, a few pounds in either direction really made a big difference. This was especially true with regard to my chest and waist, as they were already fairly large for my relatively petite frame. My wardrobe, though, hadn't caught up to these new changes as of yet. A bigger bust and wider waist could be a nightmare where old clothes were concerned.
My jeans were just a tad on the snug side, and my dark, green sweater was probably about a full size too small. Given the tightness of its fit, the plunging v-shaped neckline, and the bigger size of my chest, more than a suggestion of cleavage was clearly displayed. This probably wasn't the most professional look in the world, but no one had been nervy enough to comment at work, so in the end who really cared? I wasn't about to run out and purchase an entirely new wardrobe, especially when I planned on getting back to my old size one day.
Deciding I was just spinning my wheels by needlessly subjecting myself to this kind of survey, I shook my head slightly and continued walking toward the kitchen. Then, as soon as I crossed through the doorway, I suddenly felt a hand clamp viciously over my mouth. Simultaneously, I felt an arm wrap around my torso directly beneath my breasts. Reacting more off of instinct than intellect, I tried to scream for help as loudly as could. However, all that came out was a muffled sort of bleating, and from even this close, I instantly knew that no one would be able to hear it. Eyes wide with terror, I frantically screamed again, even though I knew the whole thing was useless. The sound was even more pathetic than the first time.
Changing tactics, I then tried to elbow whoever was grasping me, but he was standing too near for me to hit him with any force. Even though I couldn't see him, I knew it was a man. I doubted any woman could hold me this strongly. I then tried the other arm next, but was unable to strike him hard with that one either. Recognizing I was unable to fight him off in such a way, I instead reached up with both hands and grabbed the assailant's covering my mouth. I then pulled down as if doing a chin up, in a futile attempt to dislodge the fingers smothering my lips. I needed to find a way to yell for help, but it wasn't working! All the while, though, I kept attempting my shouts, but the little noise I made only issued out as a silly-sounding "mmmmph!"
Volume aside, any words I tried to form were completely unintelligible. I yanked at his hand with all the strength I could summon; however, it was entirely pointless. Sensing that I was incapable of out-muscling this stranger, I decided to attempt the next best thing. Mercilessly, I dug my nails into the skin of his arm. He still said nothing, but at least I hurt him enough that he snorted derisively in pain. If I thought that was a victory, though, I was sorely mistaken. And instantly, I discovered why.
Apparently determined to keep me nice and quiet, he reacted by throwing me forcefully against the wall - the one behind which he had just been hiding. I was momentarily dazed as I crashed against the surface, and rather than bouncing off, he pinned me against it with all of his weight. I wasn't so much stunned by the force of being thrown in such a manner - all things considered it hadn't really hurt - as I was instead appalled at being so completely manhandled this way at all. I had never felt my space so intimately invaded before, and became more determined than ever to get away from this monster. I lifted my right leg to violently kick it backward, and was gratified to feel the blow connect soundly.
"Fuck!" I heard him gasp, and felt him tighten his grip around my chest and mouth with all the more ferocity. It appeared he was capable of speaking after all.
"Fruck fru!" I managed to bellow in response. The words were still badly mangled through the vice-like grip over my mouth, but at the least this time they were somewhat understandable.
"Oh, so you you want it to be like that?" he answered, at once both playful and dark. I was confused, though, and briefly distracted; that voice, it sounded so familiar. "I think I like you better when you're quiet, though." And with that, he used his overpowering strength to wretch my head back sharply against his shoulder.
My eyes started to water while staring wildly at the ceiling, and at the same time searched for a glimpse of his face. The action also took me so unawares, that I found myself involuntarily groaning into his hand, more with indignation than anything else. Yet, for all of my efforts, I still couldn't manage a clear view of his face, except for a blurry side-profile out of the corner of my eye. However, finally having had some limited success while speaking through the hand pressed securely against my lips, I wasn't prepared to simply give into this treatment. Not by a long shot.
With renewed ferocity, I tried seeing if I was capable of to biting him, but was ultimately unable to open my mouth wide enough to try. I couldn't quite get my teeth around his fingers, and anyways, once he felt what I was attempting, he adjusted his hand so it was his palm rather than his fingers maintaining my silence. He also pulled my head even more closely to his shoulder, and then to my distressed shock, I felt the hand gripping my torso snake up and grab a handful of my right tit.
"Nuggggh," I furiously roared into the palm of his hand. Seemingly encouraged by my dismayed protest, he persisted in holding me there. He rubbed the breast back and forth in a careless kind of way, presumably intended to make me feel violated. This was one sick fuck! Even under better circumstances, it was much too rough - too awkwardly cold - to be considered anything near pleasurable. I suppose I should have been terrified, horrified really, by what was being done to me, but more than anything, I was just plain pissed. How dare he handle me like this! Like I was some kind of whore, bought and paid for, that he could use for his amusement however he liked.
