Breaing & Entering: Perspective

Hi. My name is Laura, and I’m 23 years old. I grew up in Palm Desert in a big house with my mom and dad and my brother. I did okay in High School, but I blew it when I tried college, even though I went to the local Community College and only took four classes each semester.

I left Palm Desert a couple of years ago and moved to Alhambra little city outside of Los Angeles. I met John, and we moved in together and I got a job in a local insurance office processing claims. But less than a year ago I broke up with John and moved to a little house closer to the beach, and got a job answering phones on the graveyard shift at Payment Securities, Inc.

Every night I’d go in and with Patty, my supervisor, we’d talk or crank up the little stereo she had and dance around and have fun. Yeah, we’d answer the phones and help out however we could, but after a while I figured out that we could only count on two or three calls a night.

The most exiting thing that ever happened was right before the new computers came, when our main processor went crazy and stopped talking to our clients. I swear we had over a hundred calls that night, and there was almost nothing we could do, so we took messages and went to the next call.

A few weeks after the new systems were installed, everything was back to normal. Patty, who is a really fun girl, 26 with short blond hair and a really pretty smile, and I were doing the dancing thing when the 44 ounce diet cola got to her and she ran out of the office to the bathroom.

I was looking at my reflection in the window as I danced. I’m 56” tall, and I weigh 130 pounds. I try to get to the gym, but I think I get more exercise here at work by dancing. I was wearing my blue T-shirt with the flowers on the front and the cutest pair of low-rise denim capris with bell- bottom cuffs. My hair is dark red, like a Dr. Pepper can, but I was planning on going raven black in a couple more days. Or maybe purple. Anyway, when I stretched my arms up my top rose and I shimmied, watching the light glint off the stud I was wearing in my belly button. I know I’m not a beautiful girl, but I am hot, and I get all the attention I want.

When I saw him I screamed. There was a big guy behind me, reflected in the window. He wore a nylon mask over his head, but his mouth and chin poked out. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and carried a black nylon bag in one hand, in the other was a big silver gun.

“Shut up Bitch, or I’ll kill you right now,” he shouted at me, and he waved his gun to tell me to go down the hall. I ran down to Tim’s office, crying and begging him not to hurt me.

Tim owns the company, and has the biggest office with the nicest furniture. When I got there, the guy shoved me hard and I slammed down on Tim’s desk. The guy grabbed my arm and I felt the bite on my wrist as he slapped on a handcuff. Then he pulled back my other hand and cuffed it too. Then he threw me on the floor and put a pair of cuffs on my ankles, which really hurt. I tried to struggle, but stopped when I heard a ripping sound. I tried to see what it was, but when I turned the guy started wrapping my mouth and face with tape, like you use to close boxes. Then he picked me up and threw me onto Tim’s big leather couch and left.

For a few minutes I struggled, but all I was doing was cutting my wrists and ankles. Then I heard Patty running down the hail. She appeared in the doorway, and looked around the office with a great big smile, until she saw me. Then her eyes went really wide and she took off running down the hall. “Thanks alot, Bitch,” I thought, trying to scream.

The sound of running stopped with a sudden thump, and I heard voices. After a minute, Patty came crawling into the office, the guy with the gun was right behind her, smiling big.

She was barely into the office when he kicked her really hard on the butt and sent her tumbling. Then he jumped on her and cuffed her up the same as me, and wrapped tape around her head too. He stood there looking down at her for a minute, then he kicked her in the side. Then he grabbed the cuffs on her ankles and pulled her legs up behind her and with another pair of handcuffs, cuffed her ankles to her wrists. Then the bastard just stood there looking at her and laughing.

Then he left. For what seemed like forever could hear him moving things, and the doors opening and closing. I couldn’t hardly breathe, but I could smell piss, so I knew Patty had peed her pants. It wasn’t that long before I noticed a kind of wheezing, whistling noise. I think Patty’s tape was covering her nose too, because she wasn’t hardly moving anymore. The guy came and went from the office a couple of times, taking the computers, and later the phones, but he never stopped to check on Patty.

The guy was gone for a long time, and Patty was turning blue. I mean really. I always thought that was, like, a saying or something, but she was really honestly turning blue.

Then all of a sudden there he was again. He looked at Patty and pulled out a big knife like they use to open boxes in the grocery store. He bent down over her and sliced at her face or neck, then stood up and wiped blood off the blade on his pants.

That was when I knew for sure he was going to kill us both. I couldn’t help myself, I just screamed and screamed. It’s funny that I really couldn’t care less if he had killed Patty or not right then. All I cared about was not getting myself killed.

Then he came over to me. I was screaming my head off, and he just grabbed me and rolled me onto my back, sending pain shooting through my wrists, arms and shoulders. He grabbed my collar and tore my shirt off.

I knew that I was going to be raped. Okay, raped sucks, but it I could find an angle to work, maybe, just maybe, I would still be breathing when this was all over. He grabbed my bra in the front and it popped open, then he cut it the rest of the way off with his knife. Finally the bastard grabbed my stud and twisted. I almost peed myself.

He grabbed my leg and cut up my pant leg from the cuff to the waist, then grabbed my other leg and cut that side too. Finally he pulled away my jeans and stood there looking at me. I couldn’t help blushing, especially when I remembered was wearing my “party” thong, the one I got at Frederick’s for “special” occasions. It’s a lacey purple thong that leaves nothing to the imagination, and tonight’s special occasion was laundry day. He cut off my pretty panties and slapped my pussy hard.

Now I have to make a confession. I like my sex rough. One of the problems with John was that he was always so gentle. I like being spanked and treated roughly, not that I like being hurt or anything. I like sexy roughness.

Well, the slap sent a shiver through me, and my pussy started to tingle. Good, I thought, at least he won’t be fucking me dry. He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder and walked to the lobby. He tossed me on the floor, wrenching my left shoulder even more and making me cry. Then left for a few minutes and came back with his stuff. Then he pulled my arms over by the metal leg of the big table. He cuffed my wrist to the leg of the table, then uncuffed my right wrist and snapped the cuff onto the table leg. Man, that hurt. My arms were pulled apart, hurting my shoulders, and whenever I moved the cuffs cut into my wrists again and started them bleeding again. Then he left again.

“If I don’t leave here with a smile, I’ll leave your face all over this office”, he said, putting something on the table above me. He pulled off his clothes and sat on my chest and started slapping my face with his cock, and seemed really impressed with it, though John’s was longer and a little bigger around. I thanked God for the tape on my face, since his cock hardly touched my skin, and couldn’t be shoved in my mouth.

Then he got off my chest and sat on my hips. He grabbed and played with my tits really rough, like he was really trying to hurt me. I knew there would be bruises, but to tell the truth, I kind of liked that. I thought that if he was really trying to hurt me, I’d better let him think he was before he really started to, so I struggled while he mauled my titties and started sucking on them.

He moved down and uncuffed my ankles. I would have kicked him except I didn’t have the leverage, and besides, he looked like he was ready to block anything I could throw at him. So I just raised my legs up to try to get the circulation flowing again.

He was over at his bag, and when I craned my neck I could see he had slipped on a condom. Check two worries, AIDS and pregnancy. Okay. But when he saw me looking, and I realized with my legs in the air, he just smiled and jumped on me.

He shoved his cock in and bottomed out. Shit, I wish I could show a guy how much that hurts. Like a hot nail pounded through one of his nuts. Yeah, I wish I could show this guy that, anyway. I had reflexively wrapped my legs behind him, and tried to clamp my pussy tight to keep him from bottoming out again, but that didn’t work. Every single one of his thrusts sent pain shooting through my guts. He mashed my titties while he fucked me, and I felt the first stirrings of arousal in me. I really did always want to try bondage, and if I could give this guy a real good time, maybe he’d care enough to not cut my throat. He jammed his cock in to me farther than ever before, making me scream and jump with the pain, and he shot his load with a very impressive display of ugly grimace, iron hands clamping painfully on my tits, and a shout.

He pulled out his stiff cock and went over to his bag, where he dropped in the slimy little water- balloon. I was still struggling, trying to get my arms into a position where they would stop hurting. I had pins and needles running through the palms, sides, and fingers of both hands.

I must have looked hot, because he rolled on another condom and came back over to me. He dropped on top of me and started fucking like crazy! Then he threw whatever was on the table onto the floor and uncuffed my hands. He pulled me up and slammed me face-down on the cold marble of the table-top. My knees didn’t even reach the floor.

He slammed his cock into my pussy again, and worked it around while he slapped my ass. Hell that was the best thing I’d felt all night. If he had kept that up, I probably would have cum. But of course he didn’t. Instead, he pulled his cock out and put the head of it against my asshole.

John and I had tried anal sex once. Once. He had gotten as far as covering both of us in KY and slipping about a quarter inch into me when the pain got so bad I threw him off. No such luck or gentleness here.

The guy rammed his cock into my ass long and slow, not stopping until his body was pressed against my ass. Then he started pulling out really slowly. Almost all the way out, I felt a wave of relief and even pleasure go through me. Then the motherfucker slammed it back into my ass so hard I saw stars. I think I was screaming. I should have been, since it felt like he was ripping me apart and pulling me inside out.

My arms were dead, and the only thing I could do was scratch and paw at the marble table-top. Again and again, the guy slammed his cock into my ass to the hilt, then pulled it out really slow. After what felt like forever, the pain got to me and I peed all over myself. That seemed to turn the kinky bastard on, because he stopped being all gentle with pulling out and just started slamming in and out as fast and hard as he could.

Then it was gone, he had pulled his cock all the ways out. I felt like I was deflated like an old, used balloon. I think he shoved his cock in my pussy, but I didn’t feel it. And then he was gone.

Crying in agony (I now know what that means) I slid my sweaty body back across the marble table-top, and I saw him lying on his side on the floor. I started to stand up to run, but my legs didn’t work and I fell too, right next to him. I tried to push away from him, but my arms were still like noodles, and I couldn’t control them. Besides, I don’t think I had the strength to lift a Kleenex.

After less than a minute, he jumped up and ran to the door. He picked up his gun and went over to his bag. He dropped in the gun and the bloody condom, then got dressed. Then he pulled out a roll of that packing tape stuff and started wrapping me up. He used the whole roll, and when he was done I was sure he was going to cut my throat too. I had to think fast.

Then it was over. I saw him pick up his knife and walk over. He pulled my head up and reached behind with the knife. I couldn’t, and still can’t, believe he cut the tape that was covering my face. When he pulled it off it hurt, and took alot of hair with it, but I didn’t care! He didn’t kill me! He kissed me hard, and I was not going to fight it. I kissed him back, long, slow and gentle. Then he stood and stepped away alittle, gathering everything up in his bag. But I was still afraid of what he’d do.

“Take me with you,” I said. I figured I had a better chance of getting away outside than I did here, all tied up.

“No way, Sister,” he laughed. Then he walked out into the main office. When he came back he waved Patty’s and my purses at me. “I know where you live,” he threatened as he shoved them into his bag, “I’ll find you.” And he turned and left.

After about an hour Craig showed up for work and called 911. The police and the ambulances came, and I found out Patty was still alive, and in better shape than me, it turned out.

I spent two days in the hospital recovering, seeing a constant stream of police and insurance investigators, going over what happened again and again. Since Patty didn’t see much, I told them everything, and then some. I told them it was three guys, but only one raped me. I gave them descriptions of the guys that were totally different from what I saw. He knows where I live.

When I was finally able to go home, Tim gave me a week off with pay, to stay home and get myself together. He made changes at work too, making sure the doors were always locked and having security cameras set up all over the place.

After my week off, I went back to work with Patty and Frank, on the graveyard shift. But every night that I have off, I go to bed nice and early and lie awake, staring out my bedroom window, wide open for the breeze.

Then last night my waiting was over.

I laid there wide awake, staring out the window at the dirty brown fence and the brown house next door. I was finally drifting off to sleep when I saw him. He was dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans and had short dark hair. As he climbed quietly into the window I laid there perfectly still, my left hand in the coolness under my pillow. He stood up straight and looked at me for a long time.

“Remember me?” He said it smugly, and posed to look more cool and strong. I recognized his voice immediately. How couldn’t I? I’d heard it in my nightmares for almost a month.

“Yes,” I said, slowly pulling my hand from under my pillow. “Yes I do, you Son of a Bitch,” I said and pointed the little gun at him. His eyes flashed and he turned to jump out the window. The little gun popped and jumped in my hand and he spun around to face me, pain and fear on his face. He started to come toward me and I closed my eyes.

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I opened my eyes and could see him slumped on the floor by the window. I dropped the gun on the bed and grabbed the phone. I dialed 911.

“I just shot a man who broke into my bedroom," I said into the phone.