He watched her for several weeks. Initially, she was cautious, watchful. Gradually, though, as he remained out of sight, she became more bold and daring. She stopped watching over her shoulder as much, stopped scanning the crowds for his face. Finally, about five weeks after the rape, she accepted a date with a guy she had met in the coffee shop. It wasn't that she had forgotten, but she was hopeful that the brutal encounter would never be repeated.
She had awakened the morning after the rape, sore and slightly bruised. The unknown man was gone, leaving behind a CD-R with a note that said simply, “for you.” Dreading the discovery, she had loaded the disk in her computer and opened the file in a window. As she had feared, the photographs were burned onto the disk. Using her own camera and computer, he had created a convincing defense for any allegations she might make against him. Not one of the shots showed her being forced or abused, and she knew instantly that she couldn’t file a report. Instead, she had hidden the disk with the incriminating photos on it, and tried to put the incident out of her mind. She knew that he had not left her the only copy of the disk, and she wondered what he would do with the photographs.
Now, getting ready for the date, Michelle was nervous and excited. She had not been on a real date in months, since Jason had stopped calling her.
He was a loser anyway
, she reminded herself.
This guy will be different
. His name was Randy, and he was easygoing and charming. He had spoken to her several times before getting up enough nerve to ask her out, and she felt that he would be a gentleman on this first date.
She dried her hair in its usual style, leaving out the hairspray in case Randy felt like running his hands through it. Makeup just so, enough to enhance without being obvious.
Now
she thought,
what to wear. Something sexy without being over the top.
She debated for a few moments, deciding on a red dress. He would like this. It was low enough in the front to give a glimpse of her breasts, short enough to reveal the skin just above her knees. The fabric was soft and shimmery in the light, inviting the eyes and the hands. Sheer black stockings and heels completed the look. Her body was far from perfect, but she knew how to play up her positive attributes. Men liked her curves, and she received compliments and propositions on a regular basis.
When the doorbell rang at seven forty-five, she smiled and gave Randy a point for being early. He had told her that their reservations would be for eight thirty, and he would pick her up at eight. Still smiling, she opened the door without looking through the peephole. The smile froze on her lips when she recognized the black man who practically filled the doorway of her small apartment. She tried to slam the door, but his massive form prevented the gesture, and he closed the door behind him a moment later. Michelle backed away from the man who had raped her weeks earlier, feeling trapped and frightened.
"Why are you doing this to me?" Her voice rose in anger and frustration. She stumbled as her heel caught in the carpet, and he was immediately close enough to grasp her arm. "Please, leave me alone." She felt tears well up in her eyes and she hated herself for the weakness that allowed him to control her. He still did not speak, pulling her arms behind her and pressing her body against his own. He held her effortlessly, as she fought to free herself from his grip. His lips met the soft skin of her neck, and she tried to shove him away. He persisted, nibbling and sucking at the delicate flesh for a moment as she squirmed. She ignored the little electric thrill that swept through her body and shrugged her shoulders to force him away from her neck.
He deftly switched her hands into one of his own, allowing him to tangle his free hand in her hair. He did not pull her hair as she expected, but he cupped her head, tilting it backward as his lips moved to the other side of her neck. His lips and tongue treated her neck gently, applying little pressure but creating an intense sensation. In spite of her fear and anger, Michelle felt aroused by this delicate manipulation. Five weeks had passed since anyone had touched her sexually, and her body immediately responded to this stimulation.
As he moved his mouth lower, she held her breath. She realized that she had stopped fighting him, but she rationalized it by telling herself that she couldn't win. His mouth felt warm against the skin on her chest, wet kisses left in his trail as he moved to the neckline of the red dress. His tongue slipped into the cleavage created by her bra, and she shivered involuntarily. He gently sank his teeth into the upper curve of her left breast, sucking with greater pressure and using his tongue to massage the tiny bit of flesh. "Stop," she said finally, realizing at last that he was leaving marks on her.
He raised his head and smiled at her this time. His hand behind her head brought her to him, and he kissed her. She forgot again to resist when his tongue slid into her mouth.
He tastes like coffee and cinnamon,
she realized.
What am I doing?
The thought came to her suddenly, reminding her of who she was kissing. She pulled away from the kiss, and he released her head. His free hand moved instead to the front of her dress, lowering the neckline to reveal the thin fabric of her demi bra. His fingers easily upset the balance of flesh and fabric to reveal the nipples of both breasts. He immediately took one in his mouth, sucking softly and flicking his tongue over the tip.
"Don't do that," she meant the words to be a command, but they came out weak and whispery instead. Her nipple swelled and stiffened, and she felt the pooling heat in her belly. He was turning her on, easily and expertly. Her weak resistance was half-hearted at best, and she wondered if she actually wanted to resist. This did not feel like a rape, but a seduction. "You raped me." She said the words to him, but more to remind herself of the situation. "I don't want this," she said unconvincingly a moment later when he ran his tongue over the other nipple, already erect and eager for the touch. She sucked in a breath through clenched teeth during the teasing touch of his teeth grazing over the aroused flesh.
When he kissed her again, she could not help responding. Her tongue met his easily, and she felt his thigh wedge between her own. The excitement increased with the feeling of his denim shirt against her nipples, the thick, muscular width of his leg against her center. She knew he could feel the heat of her pussy on his leg, and his tongue thrust deeper into her unresisting mouth in response. He applied enough pressure against her hands to cause her body to curve against his, back arching as she bent to his will. Finding her mostly compliant, he released her hands and gripped the cheeks of her ass to pull her against him more completely.
Michelle felt her sanity slipping away in the heat of arousal, and she struggled to ignore the sensations he was stirring. She pushed ineffectively at his shoulders, pulled against the hardened hands gripping her bottom firmly. He leaned over further, bending her body backward inexorably. She felt herself falling and ceased pushing against him to catch herself. He followed her down, joining her on the floor with his thick leg still between her thighs. As he knelt over her, she felt his eyes on her body and acknowledged the feminine thrill created by the obvious desire in his eyes. She tried to catch his hands, but they seemed to be everywhere at once. He tweaked a nipple and cupped the breast before sweeping the dress up to reveal her panties. His attention was captured by the tiny triangle that barely covered her mons. The delicate strings that held the garment in place would break easily if he tugged, but he just ran one finger along the edge of the fabric.
Her pussy was wet. Five weeks ago, this same man had taken her by force. He had commanded a response, but it was still force. This was different in many ways, but she did not want it to happen. “I don’t even know your name.” She blurted the statement out as it occurred to her. I’m spread out in the floor letting some RAPIST handle me! What is happening to me? I am not like this! As the thought entered her mind, she pushed against him with more determination. She managed to cover her panties again, but she could still feel the warmth of his touch against that uniquely tender skin. He ignored her resistance, continuing to assault her with tenderness. He kneaded the muscle of her thigh, and she knew he felt the trembling response. His hand covered her breast, massaging the captive globe in spite of her attempt to push the hand away.
Later, she would wonder how things would have played out if she hadn’t done it. But, lacking sufficient alternatives, she punched him. The blow landed about mid-chest, fairly solidly but without enough force to do more than anger him. He slapped her in response, just hard enough to leave her face stinging. His swift capture of her hands prevented further retaliation, and after quickly lifting her toward him, she soon found her wrists confined with a set of handcuffs he pulled from his pocket. The handcuffs were behind her, but she had seen in the quick manipulations he performed that they had been modified in some way. For one thing, the chain between the two cuffs was longer than the standard distance. There was some kind of fur covering the metal of the shackles, making the feeling one of soft control. With her hands confined, she could feel the cold length of chain against her back when he pushed her back down to the floor.
