Dancing In The Shower

The following very dark story has themes of misogyny, non-consent sex, humiliation, abuse and other dark themes. If such content offends you, please do not read. This is an erotic FICTION story not meant as any sort of gender, political or societal protest. This is purely for entertainment and never meant to happen in reality. If you have issues with such kinks, please do not read.

The loud sounds from the shower head almost drowns out the music that's playing from my cell as I take my well deserved shower. Doing a happy little dance, I dance along with the song inside my bathtub, knowing I am hidden thanks to the shower curtain.

I'm not stupid enough to do some huge dance move as it's too easy to slip and fall, but I do wiggle my hips and whip my hair to feel sexy. The only issue with this is by moving too much my breasts bounce which causes a rather embarrassing wet clapping sound to echo when the girls plop back down. Without a bra to hold them down, they do like to move.

I know not many people dance in the shower, just like I know it is considered weird, but I don't care. What can I say? I'm a weird girl. And forgive me for being happy. I'm happy. Happy with everything. I'm 19, had a productive morning in class and now have the house to myself for the entire weekend since my family has gone out of town. What's not to be happy about?

As much as I would love to have a huge house party or even invite a few friends over, I can't. Finals are coming up and I really need to use this time to study. I'm acing all my classes, but I want my GPA to be as high as possible in case I ever get in a class that is too hard. That way if I do bad in the future it won't drag my GPA down too much. Otherwise, I know myself, I would just be coasting along.

I keep dancing, knowing that I would never dance like this in front of people. In here I can be sexy and stupid, not to mention feel confident with my body. Out at a club or other places, it feels more like a competition than anything. Were you are competing with everyone else around for some silly reason. I know most don't feel like this, but I sure do for some reason, even if I wish I didn't.

"Hey!" I say in a high pitch protest as my music stops. It makes me stop dancing then turn and look towards the bathroom counter, not that I can see anything with the curtain there. A wave of disappointment comes over me as I figure either the internet connection went out, again, or my cell's battery died early...again. I really need to get me a new cell. If it gets too hot, the battery just drains.

Pulling the shower curtain back some, I stick my head out to look at my cell which is on the counter. As I've already washed my hair, I don't worry about shampoo coming down into my eyes. I've honestly just been dancing the past few minutes as the water sprays on me.

The moment I stick my head out, I duck back in faster than I know I can move. Instantly, the coldest of cold fear hits me, making it feel like I've been punched with a huge icicle. Terror and Fear flood in me and are so strong I actually grab the shower bar as the world spins for a moment. Everything seems to change in an instant. My life, as I knew it seems far away and ruined as I can't believe what I saw.

"C-C-Can I h-h-h-help y-y-you?" I ask after a few long moments of silence, with only the water spraying over me being heard. When I ask, my voice quivers horribly, revealing just how terrified I am. There's no pretending that I'm not scared for my life.

There's a man in my bathroom. A freaking man. A huge freaking man. That's what I saw when I peeked out from the shower curtain. A huge man wearing a black ski mask, standing at the counter, looking right at the shower. Sure, I can't see him right now because of the curtain, but I know what I saw. Now that I know he's there, I can feel his presence...and it's evil.

"Turn the water off, bitch," a deep gravelly voice orders. A voice that sounds very weathered, like this guy is in his 40s or 50s. A voice that scares me so much that I gulp even if my mouth has gone dry.

Trembling so bad that I have trouble grabbing the faucet, I do manage to turn off the water. The water that was spraying so fast and firm from the shower head becomes a trickle as the valve is closed. Now it leaves the silence of the situation, which makes all of this seem so much more dangerous. Where the pounding of my heart is the only thing I hear, and it could tear down a building as strong as it sounds.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way ya dumb cunt," the man tells me in that gravely voice. What scares me even more is the confidence that voice has. It lets me know he doesn't have any fear in what he's doing. He's not worried he'll get caught or that I'll be able to do anything to him. It gives the feeling that this isn't his first time doing something like this. That he's done it plenty of times and has never been caught.

"If you do as your told and aren't fucking stupid, this can be over with and I'll be on my way," the man continues, sounding annoyed. It's like he thinks I'll be too stupid to understand what he's trying to tell me.

Despite how scared I am, in which it feels like it is minus thirty degrees in here, I am amazed by this creep. He's standing there in a stranger's house, as if he owns it. There must not be any concern from him that someone may be coming home soon, or that I haven't contacted the police. How does he know I'm not preparing to do something? That I have a hidden weapon in here that I could defend myself with? Instead, he's standing outside, waiting for me without a care.

"You hearing me, bitch, or do I have to teach you a lesson in listening?!" The man asks in an upset tone, clearly wanting some sort of verbal response. In this comment, I hear true anger, like he's already pissed at me. I don't know why but that scares me more. Of all the people to make mad in the world, he isn't one you should try it with.

"Y-Y-Yes," I answer, my voice trembling and quivering. It makes me sound exactly like how I feel, a scared cowardly girl. It shows how scared and helpless I feel. Like I've been pushed down into a deep hole with no way to climb out.

My mouth opens to ask, "What are you going to do to me?" but I never ask it. It's pretty clear what his intentions are. I'm not really sure how I know this, but I do. Sure, he could be here to rob the house and just needs to make sure I'm not going to get in his way, but I don't believe it. I just don't know if he's only here for...that, or if he's going to do more, like...kill me.

"Good," the man states as if confirming this is all going the way it should. That we are on schedule and there's no reason to worry. That we can now proceeds since we are in agreement.

"Alright, so listen good, whore," the man states. He pauses and it's clear he's about to give out instructions of some sort. Instructions I know doubt am going to hate.

"You going to put your hands on top of your head, then open that curtain and step out," he orders, saying it very slow again. It makes me a little bit upset as he's acting like I'm stupid.

"O-O-Ok," I answer after a pause, not knowing if he wants a verbal response each time or not. After saying this, I frantically look around the shower, trying to see if there's anything I can use to defend myself. But all that's here are soaps and shampoos. The best I could hope for is squirting soap into his eyes and somehow trying to run past him. Even then, that's laughable. Plus, there's no telling what weapons he may have. What if I try that and he pulls out a gun and blows me away?

Still trembling, I know I don't really have a choice. I'm going to have to do as he wants. If I don't, he may lose it and grab me. Then there's no telling what he might do or what condition I'll be left in.

Filled with that cold fear, I lift both of my trembling arms up and place them on top of my head. There I interlock my fingers and vow to not move them as my life depends on it. And I stand like this for a moment, trying to work up the courage to move the shower curtain.

Standing like this makes me feel painfully submissive. I don't think I've ever done this pose before, but it's like it's designed to make you feel helpless and submissive. Especially naked as I am. There's no way to cover nor protect your body. It's advertising that your entire being is exposed and ready for the taking.

Turning to face the curtain fully, I take my left hand and pull on the shower curtain. Being scared, I pull much harder than I mean too, causing the shower curtain to get pulled all the way to the side, exposing me fully. The curtain whips all the way to side, making sure none of it hangs about to cover any part of my naked and exposed self.

After putting my hand back on top of my head, I stand here for a moment, feeling very overwhelmed. I see the creep fully now, just standing there, not but 4 feet away. I spot his eyes move up and down my naked, wet body, taking in everything that he's seeing. Over and over again his eyes move up and down, pausing at my breasts, then my womanhood, and finally my face.

There's no smile or any other emotion on his face as he looks at me. Just a look that seems to show he's glad I'm doing as I'm told. A look that seems to suggest he believes me to be his toy or object now, to which I'm to do as I'm told, or else.

Something happens to me as I stand here. The cold, piercing fear I have is interrupted for just a brief moment by a strange tingle. It feels almost like butterflies in my stomach, only this feels warmer and actually tingles. And it drops lower, heading to between my legs. It's enough that for a moment I squirm as my body reacts to it.

It occurs to me that my body is responding to what's happening. That being exposed and helpless like this is making me, well, sexually aroused. Discovering this makes me feel extremely embarrassed as my body doesn't seem to be listening to my brain about all the trouble we are in. Instead, it shoots it's own chemicals and hormones, letting me know how much it enjoys feeling this submissive helplessness.

With a very red face as I feel my body getting horny, I step out from the shower, where water drips off me nonstop. My entire body is drenched so when I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror, it looks almost like I'm shining due to every inch being wet from the shower. But I don't dare take my eyes off the man even for more than a second as there's no telling what he might do. He could lunge to try and strangle me, or smash my head into the mirror, or worse.

I take another step away from the shower so I am directly in front of him. The closer I get to him, the more my body seems to tremble out of fear. This is driven home as being naked in front of him is bad enough, but my trembling body is making my breasts jiggle. In an embarrassing thought, I think how my tits sort of resemble Jell-O at the moment by the way they jiggle, jiggle and jiggle more.

"Those are tits I saw at the park," the man comments, his eyes aiming downward at my exposed breasts. This is a very strange statement to make, given the situation so when he says it, I am confused for a moment.

Acting as if this is all perfectly normal, the stranger reaches his hand out, clearly headed for my right breast. My eyes widen as they follow, seeing his hand not as a normal yet calloused hand, but like Freddy Kruger's gloved hand, here to slice me up.

A whimper comes out of me and my body trembles harder as his hand gets closer and closer. His hand seems to be moving in slow motion as it stretches out, eager to feel my exposed breast. And then he grabs it.

My eyes close in humiliation as his fingers squeeze and close, letting him feel how firm my tit is. As I feel the roughness of his skin, I can only think one thought, and that I'm letting this bastard of a man grab my tit. I'm standing here, hands on my head and naked, letting him grope me.

Going into something of a daze, I stand there, my body swaying lightly as he squeezes my breast over and over again. He then cups it and lifts as if trying to figure how much it weighs. The bastard then grabs my tit by the base and points it upward, aiming the nipple towards him. He does this a few times slow, then starts to do it extremely fast, producing a very weird feeling as he does as I've never had this done before. Then it occurs to me what he's doing, shaking my tit to watch it move.

Oh, I don't think I've ever been this humiliated in my life. Never have I let anyone do this to my breasts before. I've always made sure my lovers were careful and gentle with them. Not crude and lewd, playing with them as if they have never seen a pair of tits before.

My right breast is dropped to which the man moves to my other boob. He repeats his process, squeezing, lift and then groping over and over again as he plays with my breast. And I stand there, hands still on my head, body swaying from his movements as I let him do this.

Another whimper comes out of me uncontrollably as he brings both of his hands up now. I'm then left to look down and do nothing as he now fondles both of my tits. Playing with both at the same time, he squeezes and lifts, then lets them drop, only to repeat this. It's only when he pinches both nipples and shakes that I say anything as I can't help but cry out from this.

Trying to get my mind off of how it feels to have my nipples pinches, I think of what he said. "The park." The park? Did he say he saw my tits at the park? That means...he was at the park yesterday. Or maybe it was last week. Every morning I go to the neighborhood park and jog the trail. He must have seen me and followed me home! And from the sounds of it, it was my jogging tits that lured him.

Why didn't I notice him? Surely I would have seen some creep checking me out. Or would I? If he was being discreet or hidden, would I have seen him? Hell, for all I know, he might have been hiding in the raping someone else when he caught sight of me.

The bastard starts to get so rough with my titties that I'm having to step back and then forward. He pushes and squeezes so hard that I have to step back or else fall. Then he pulls on them, making me step forward as it feels like he's trying to crush my tits.

The absurdity of what is happening is enough to damn near make me start laughing. I'm naked, in my bathroom, letting some stranger roughly grope my tits. Letting him get so rough that I swear I feel my breasts swelling. Where my nipples are now non-stop smarting from all the times he's pinched and pulled them.

"These FFs?" The bastard then asks as he pinches my nipples again. But this time he starts to lift my breasts upward by the nipple. The weight of my breast is lifted by my nipple, which hurts a good deal. It makes me winch and move to my tiptoes as I try to ease the pain anyway I can.

"D. They are Ds," I answer him as he lifts my tits so high I see them in the bottom of my vision. This causes him to stop, but to not let go. Instead he keeps them lifted, making me whimper the entire time.

My head actually spins as I feel this, but not because of pain or fear. It's from how warm my breasts feel. How tingling and sensitive they seem to have become. Like I mentioned, no one has ever been so rough or crude with them, so I am not used to this at all. But the way my breast feel, it's like they are enjoying this treatment. Almost like they are separated from me completely and can enjoy their own thing.

I sigh heavily when he finally lets go of my nipples. My breasts drop down, where I actually lean over in relief. I feel my tits bounce down heavily, where they bounce a few times before swinging, the nipples very hard.

Suddenly the man stops and lifts a hand. He does this slow as if for effect, lifting his hand to about his head level. Without even looking at my face to see my reaction, he slaps my left boob. Slaps it from directly overhead, landing right on my nipple.

After the clap sounds, I cry out, feeling the sting of the slap as well as my tit bounce hard upward and then down. The stinging feeling is nothing compared to the intense humiliation that hits me at having my breast slapped like a volleyball. It makes my eyes widen and unable to help it, my arms move downward to cover my breasts in a protective motion.

"Get your fucking hands up bitch, or you want me to hogtie you?" The man barks, suddenly furious at my reaction. The anger in his tone is strong enough that I can picture myself naked and hogtied by him. Where he ties me so hard that my body bends in ways the human body isn't supposed to.

Another wave of humiliation pours into me, seemingly headed right between my legs as I let go of my breasts and lift my hands. This feeling of submissiveness makes my womanhood tingle in such a dark way that I get scared I might have been drugged. It only gets stronger as I put my hands back on my head and interlock my fingers again.

"Just for that, make them move. Give me a fucking target to slap," the stranger growls in that same furious voice.

My eyes widen as I look up at him, not believing what I heard. For the first real time, I look him in the eyes, begging him without words to not make me do this. That this is too much for me to take. That my world is already coming crashing down, I don't need my mind snapped or my tits abused.

His intense eyes bore into mine, seemingly warning that if he doesn't get to slap my titties, he'll slap my face instead. It's a powerful enough glare that I find myself turning my hips left and then right slowly, making my upper body move. Over and over I turn, getting a little faster each time.

After a few moments of doing this, I feel my breasts swaying left and right. They sway gently, but it is enough to make my face red again as this isn't something I've done before. Not even playing around have I never made my chest swing or sway or even bounce. And it is such a strange feeling.

"OUCH!" I yelp out in a very high pitched voice as he swings his huge hand down again, slapping my moving-target breast. Only this time I merely lean over a bit in response instead of covering up, all while I keep swaying so my tits move. I feel my poor smacked boob bounce again, feeling the sting just like before.

For about a minute the Bastard slaps my tits. He first slaps them from overhead, making me yelp each time. It seems almost like a game to him, trying to see which tit he can make bounce the highest. But he is able to land perfectly on target, even if I am moving. Each smack is directly from overhead, landing right on my hard nipple.

Then he starts to slap my tits from the sides. I can tell he does this because he wants to see them swing. Like my making them sway isn't violent enough for him, so he slaps them to truly make them swing about. I think this because I see the joy in his eyes as he follows my tits as they swing left and right over and over. He doesn't slap them too hard or even fast, but it's not like it's a pleasurable thing to feel.

Every inch of my breasts feel swollen and sensitive now. It's not been but a minute or two, but it feels like he's been doing this for hours. The way it feels, I'll need a much larger bra to contain them for the next few days. Or more likely, no bra at all.

But I can't deny how my body is responding to this abuse. It is getting more and more warm and tingly. The feeling of being demoted to an object is both horrifying and intensely pleasurable. Like...you can let go and not have a worry or responsibility at all. Just a mindless sex object, with no point or purpose.

"Alright then, they ready," the man oddly tells me, finally stopping his assault on my breasts. Taking this to mean I can stop making my breasts sway, I halt. When I look down at my poor boobies, I see they are both extremely red from the slapping. In fact, I can see his handprint on my left boob from his last slap. Oh, how they sting and throb. If it wasn't that it sort of feels good sexually, I no doubt would be crying.