Heather Meets the Vile Gamer

Gingerly I perched on the very edge of the bed, as far from him as possible. He actually looked hurt, but shrugged a little and turned toward me.

"Ok Heather. I just wanted to say....well, there's a lot I'd like to say, but nothing you want to hear right now."

I continued to stare straight ahead.

"But there's one thing I have to tell you...something you should know in case you're thinking of going to the police".

I turned toward him then, startled. That was the

last

thing I wanted to do! But then, I don't suppose he could have known that.

"I have copies and printouts of all the pictures you sent me, all the letters too. All of our conversations are logged--remember our roleplays? Oh, and those wavs..."

I had no doubt that he'd kept and logged everything. Of course. The perfect crime. The bastard. The most fucked up thing about this whole night was that no matter how I'd been brutalized, no matter how scared I was I had only myself to blame and I knew it. Maybe I should have called this story Stupid Bitch Gets What's Cumming to Her. That's exactly how raw and ugly and sordid this sorry ass tale has been. And so true!! Damn, that title rings so true!

It really sickened me now, knowing he had my pictures--the sexy ones especially that I'd teased him with. My face burns even now when I think of him looking at them...remembering....gloating.

"I know you said no...a lot, and that I really raped you. Maybe I'd go down for it", he said lightly with a shrug. "but would you really want all of that coming out? It would you know...."

I was shaking my head. "I'm not...I won't" , I whispered.

He kept talking as though he hadn't heard me. Maybe he hadn't; or maybe he just

wanted

to say these things to make me continue feeling helpless. He really had no clue as to how little his evidence meant to me....at least in any legal sense.

"...all of it. Not just the roleplays, but everything. Everything you ever said to me. Like I remember this one conversation we had when you said something like 'you gotta find me first!'...that was so damn cute...."

I'd heard enough and blurted, "I said I WON'T!!" quite loudly this time. In a little lower, but still nearly hysterical voice, I continued trying to convince him. See, I wanted him assured that he could walk away from this--it seemed the only way he was going to let me go.

"You don't have to keep telling me these things!! I'm NOT going to the damn cops! I never was! Nothing

you

said convinced me. I just....I don't want anybody to know." I knew I was telling the truth.

Nobody

could know about this....I would die.

Looking somewhat relieved he began easing closer to me. I still didn't like how he was looking at me. Not at

all.

"Well cool! Now that we've got

that

settled...." I didn't like the sound of his voice either. Him arm went around me....like we were on a

date

for godssakes.

Trying to wriggle away from his one-armed embrace I fairly whined, "Chuck....please. I need to go now....I

want

to go now! OK??....CHUCK!!"

Without warning he'd pulled me to him firmly, gripped my face, then forced a kiss on me. "Gee," I thought sarcastically as I tried to twist my head away, "our first kiss". I shoved at his steadily advancing chest...he was getting too close...pushing me backwards.

I managed to break the kiss..."DON'T!!!!".....he ignored me, bearing his body down on me till I was on my back. "NOOOOO!!", I wailed pitifully. "Get off me, Chuck!! Dammit Please get OFFF!!!" Still ignoring my pleas, he was holding me down with his body while kissing me roughly....my lips, my neck...groping at my breasts, pinching the nipples. Having the luxury of not being tied up this time, I was trying to shove him off me or away from me as hard as I could; twisting under him in a pathetic attempt to scoot out from under. All my efforts, of course, were useless. My struggles had turned him on again, and he was much stronger than me. I didn't have a chance.

I could feel his hardness against me as I fought that brief and losing battle, amazed that he was hard again, despairing that he'd

never

let me go. He was breathing hard, holding me down with one arm as he urgently undid his jeans, a wild look in his eye.

I tried again. "CHUCK NNNOOO!!! NO MORE...." I was starting to cry again. "You PROMISED!!!"

"I promised not to hurt you..", he muttered while jerking at

my

pants now. "and I won't." Pulling them off me easily and shoving them impatiently aside, he forced himself between my tightly clenched legs and lunged forward. When I screamed, he clamped his hand over my mouth but kept going. I couldn't believe it. Just when I thought this nightmare was over there I was, helplessly pinned under him while he raped me again.

At least he wasn't brutal this time. He didn't hit me or threaten me or even call me a bad name. I suppose he thought he was being romantic.

*****

When he finally took me back to my car (it was still there, keys and all), he'd barely gotten his car stopped all the way when I quickly opened the door and scrambled out before he could stop me. As I slammed the door I could hear him saying "Heather, wait", but I wasn't slowing down for anything. I didn't want to hear anything more he had to say. I never wanted to see him again.

Before he could try to pursue me I was in my car and peeling out of there as I wished I'd done as soon as he approached my window an eternity ago. As an after-thought I even flipped him the birdy finger as my tires squealed. I know...it was terribly juvenile and a bit redundant in this case, but for a few seconds it made me feel a little better.

It didn't look like he was going to chase me. I drove around for a while, radio blasting, muttering to myself like a lunatic. When I was sure I wasn't being followed I pulled into Wal-Mart's parking lot and sat there a long time before going in. Reaction sat in and I began shaking uncontrollably. Alive....alive...the word reverberated in my head over and over. I was alive....I'm alive.

The Aftermath

To this day no one knows what happened to me that night a few months ago.. Well...no one but

him.

I've never spoken of it aloud, not even to myself when alone. I never will either.

I had hoped against hope that Tom would be asleep when I got home, but when I walked in he was kicked back on the couch watching tv and waiting up for me. One look at my bruised face and swollen, cut lip made him spring to his feet, eyes wide.

"Baby!! What

happened

to you??"

To my own surprise I burst into tears, explaining while he held me that some fucking asshole had pulled out in front of me in traffic on the way home and I'd had to slam on my brakes so hard that my face was driven into the steering wheel. The story effectively explained my bruises, my tears and my uncontrollable trembling. It was natural, after all, to still be a bit shook up after an almost-accident. Especially since I'd gotten hurt.

Sure...he believed it. Why wouldn't he? Later when he asked about the movie--I'd been uncharacteristically quiet about it--I simply shrugged and said,

"Oh....it was ok I guess."

*****

In the shower later I scrubbed myself like a maniac. I couldn't get clean enough. I could still feel his touch no matter how hard I tried to wash him away. Funny, I thought, how many of the rape-victim cliches were true. Many weren't though...at least in my case. It still amazes me how normal I managed to act most times.

*****

I was afraid to make love with Tom for several nights. I had no idea how I would feel or react. What if I freaked out or something? I couldn't put him off for long, however, and it turned out ok. Better than ok, really. I actually felt much better in his familiar embrace. It felt as if he were reclaiming me....although he didn't know it. I would die or kill before letting him know it.

There were other things he could never know; like how images and memories would come to me unbidden. Those moments that had frightened me so badly at the time would return to me not only during lovemaking, but at various odd moments during my days.....and leave me breathless...tingling....wet. I didn't know what was wrong with me.

Funny, I thought, how so many of the rape-victim cliches are

not

true.

*****

I didn't go near the computer for days. I didn't care if I ever went online again. Eventually I had to go back. Tom was asking why I wasn't into it anymore, and I realized that my sudden disinterest--easily traced back to the night I came home bruised--was starting to look suspicious.

I had mail--quite a bit of it. I had several online friends whom I normally talked to nearly every day. They were worried since they hadn't seen me online or heard from me for a while. I really didn't want to face them just yet. See, Chuck wasn't the only one I'd teased. I was understandably paranoid now.

Speaking of Chuck, I wasn't really surprised to see there was mail from him too. I'd hoped he would just leave me alone, but I think I knew better. I considered deleting them unread, but I couldn't. I'm not sure why, other than the fact that I never could leave a letter unread.

The first few said simply "Are you ok?" with requests that I write him back. The bastard.

The last one was the one I've read and re-read over and over:

Dear Heather,

I know you hate me now. I don't blame you. I just wanted to say that our encounter was the most intensely powerful, mind-blowing experience I've ever had. I know it was for you too, although I don't expect you to admit it yet.

You probably feel I betrayed our friendship by acting on what you told me. But I did tell you I'd find you. I honestly believed it was what you wanted too. Sometime during that incredible night it occured to me that you really were as horrified, angry and scared as you seemed. But I couldn't stop. Nothing could have made me stop. I only wish I could have had you all night. I've never been so on fire before.

I gaze at your pictures and remember with perfect detail how your body felt--inside and out. I can close my eyes and feel you quivering beneath me still. Your gagged and muffled screams wake me up in the dead of night sometimes. I awake imagining I can still smell your scent on me.

We had a shared fantasy. I made it come true. Maybe it was too real for you. Maybe I did take you totally against your will. I'm sorry about your face. I guess I was too caught up in the moment.

Heather, I have to say this....even if it makes you hate me worse. I said I'd find you someday, and maybe I was only half-serious--until you told me of your upcoming movie night, and how you would be alone. I know you didn't exactly invite me, but subconsciously I think you did. I could almost hear you calling to me--challenging me to find you.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I really am just a sick motherfucker like you said. But I can't forget how wet you were, or how hard you came.

Do you think of me when you make love? I'll bet you do. And I'll bet you get hotter and cum harder than you ever did before. I don't know how I know this, but I'm right aren't I? It pleases me knowing this, yet tears me apart with jealousy to think of another having you--even if he's the one who's supposed to.

Hate me. Wish me dead if you want...but I can't stop thinking about you and what happened.

I want you again. I'll have you again.

I want to feel your struggles again, hear your screams. Next time I'll take you someplace remote, where your screams can be unleashed without a gag. As sexy as gagged screams are to me, I want to hear them full volume next time....and feel your body shaking with them. I want to taste your tears and hear you begging me to stop.

I WILL have you again, Heather...my hot little slut. Raping you is a right I'm claiming for a long long time. Even if you belong to another, you're mine now. Don't ever forget that.

Love,

Chuck

The first time I read this, I sat stunned and terrified when the tone of his letter changed. All apologies and lame explanations one moment, threats to rape me again the next. He really

was

crazy.

A deep, icy fear had begun to grow in me....accompanied by a deep, hot tingling in my sex....

Reading those words still scare me badly.....and make me so wet....

God help me.

The End