I wave goodbye and blow kisses as my husband backs out of our driveway, our children safely strapped in the backseat. I breathe a small sigh of relief, mixed with a twinge of sadness as they head off for the weekend. I will miss them and absolutely adore being a wife and mother. But the woman hidden deep behind the various other roles I play aches to break free and find herself again occasionally. Tonight I could choose to do exactly what I felt like doing. I flopped on the couch and planned an evening filled with dance aerobics, a leisurely soak in softly scented bubbles, and watching the newest scary flick out on video. I have always found it so incredibly sexy to be scared!! I love to be on the edge of my seat, my heart beating with each terrifying scene. Little did I know that tonight my plans would be interrupted and my heart would pound with very real fear at the hands of a stranger.
I stretch and exercise to my favorite tape, then do a few stomach crunches. I had just turned 33, but my body doesn't look much different than when I married 11 years earlier. Since having my children just in the last few years, I need the crunches to help my tummy stay toned and as flat as possible. I'm still bothered by the few small stretch marks on my lower belly, so I never wear a bikini anymore. When dressing, I'll smile to myself as I gaze over those sweet marks of labor, but I'm still self conscious about it in front of others. Walking to our oversized round tub, I turn it on full blast. I squeeze an ample amount of skin softening bubble bath into the steaming water and add a touch of my favorite perfume, Dolce Aura. Heading to the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of wine and press a green grape past my lips, sucking on it's sweetness. I slice more fruit and down the wine at a steady pace.
Pouring myself another glass, I pop in my favorite cd and head to my bedroom. Undressing slowly, I deeply inhale the subtle fragrance drifting from the water, and clip my long brown hair into a small twist. Easing myself into the welcoming tub, bubbles swirl deliciously around my body. I soak for a long time, my eyes closed, indulging myself with recurring fantasies of my fictional dream man and the amazing things he does to me. I'm very happy with my husband, but occasionally submitting to these fantasies makes me feel so hot and erotically wicked. Sighing lightly, I sip the last bit of wine through my lips, and stand up wrapping my fluffy white towel around my wet skin.
Pulling my sexiest red satin negligee from the closet, I slowly let it slip down past my hair to rest seductively around my body. I always feel so provocative in red, especially in this naughty little gown. Removing the clip from my hair, the mirror reflects the spiral curls bouncing softly around my shoulders. After brushing my lips with a creamy red gloss, I lightly spritz perfume on my neck and head to the kitchen, feeling relaxed and sexy. I pour another glass of wine, even though I'm getting a bit lightheaded now. I never get to drink much when the kids are here, so why not let loose a little. But I also realize it's been awhile since I've eaten anything more substantial than fruit, so I decide to order takeout. Opening the drawers where we keep the menus, I notice a slight movement out of the corner of my eye. I stroll around the edge of the counter and see nothing in the darkness of the living room. I shrug my shoulders and turn around to head back to the kitchen. Suddenly, my heart leaps with fear as I see a dark haired man in blue jeans and a black shirt towering above me. We stare at each other for a moment, then I let out a small scream and start to run away. I feel his shoulder length hair against my face as he quickly grabs me from behind and pulls me to him. He whispers quietly, "Don't fight me, little girl, and you won't get hurt."
My body trembles in his tight grasp. "What do you want?" Then remembering I have some cash in my purse, I try to talk my way out of this. " I have $240 dollars I can give to you. If you leave then, I promise I won't tell anyone." He delights at my frightened tone of voice.
He laughs at my suggestion, running his hand lightly against my thigh. "It's not money I'm after, sweet thing." He leans down and starts kissing my neck softly.
I start struggling like a wild animal against his strong body. " Let me go!! I don't want you to touch me!" I scream loudly.
He slaps my ass very hard several times. His voice still calm, but commanding , "You better cooperate with me. This is going to happen. I'm going to touch and fuck you tonite in any way I want and for as long as I want." My body grows completely rigid at his words. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you don't do exactly what I tell you." He leans down and whispers coolly against my cheek, "Now are you going to be a good girl for me?"
"Yes." I reply, my voice dripping with fear
"Yes what?" he grips my arms harder.
"Yes, I will be a good girl for you." I say, my words low and edged with bitter acceptance.
He turns me around to face him, grinning with satisfaction. "Now, show me your bedroom," he orders me softly. My heart is beating with dread at each step we take down the long hallway. He still has a powerful grip on my arm and forces me to stop at the bedroom closet door. He opens it and pulls out a handful of scarves. "Lay down on the bed for me." I hesitate, wanting to run away so badly. He slaps my ass again, even harder than before. I quickly lay down on the bed, my eyes filling with tears, from both the pain and the fear of what he's planning to do. After securely binding my wrists and ankles to each corner of the bed, his dark eyes stare piercingly into mine as I lay bound and helpless before him.
"Don't go anywhere honey." he laughs, leaving me alone in the bedroom. I pull at his tight bondage, trying with all my strength to free myself. I can hear small clanking noises, then hear the music being cranked up to almost full volume. He probably doesn't want anyone to hear me scream as he murders me. I start struggling against the scarves like crazy! He suddenly returns and leaps on top of me.
