My roommates are out of town for the night, leaving me with the house to myself. Perfect. A chance to relax, curl up on the sofa, and do nothing for the evening. It's an awful night out, raining and windy, the house creaking the way only old houses do, but I have no plans to go anywhere and I don't mind in the slightest.
I take a long hot bath first, taking my time, secure in the knowledge that no one will be knocking at the door demanding to get in. Afterwards, I wander back to my bedroom and decide it's too much trouble to get fully dressed, so I just pull on an old dress shirt a past boyfriend left behind. The cotton feels cool and comfortable against my warm skin, barely touching me. I don't bother with a bra or panties, just button up the shirt and head back to the kitchen.
I make my dinner, and eat in front of the television without paying much attention to the food. My cat sits by my feet giving me reproachful looks until I toss a piece of chicken his way. He sniffs it disdainfully, gives it a desultory lick, than pushes it away with his paw, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He returns to staring at me, convinced there's something better to eat that I'm keeping hidden. I look down at my half-eaten dinner and agree with his appraisal of it. I take the plate into the kitchen, put it on the counter, than start rummaging through the freezer for the ice cream.
I'm peering into the freezer, and have just spotted the elusive container of Hagen Daz, when I hear a strange noise from the other room. I assume it's my cat and take my time, but suddenly he comes running into the room, fur standing on end. I immediately tense up; we've had a problem with rats in the house before, and it must be big one if it's scared him this badly.
I grab a broom for defense and nervously make my way back to the living room. When I get there I'm vastly relieved to see no rat in sight; instead, the main window has blown open and is flapping hard on its old hinges in the wind. I don't remember having left it open earlier, but it's prone to slipping open if the latch isn't secured just right. I put down the broom and go to close the window.
I'm just reaching for the window and pulling it shut when I see a blur of motion reflected in the pane. I don't have time to think about it before I feel a hand grabbing me by the hair and pulling me back, dragging me to my knees.
I scream as loudly as I can, but it’s pure reflex – there’s no one around to hear me. I struggle hard, at first pulling back, but only succeeding in hurting myself as my hair is strained so hard I can feel strands pulling out. I change tactics and lunge at my attacker instead. I’m at the perfect level to do some serious damage so I aim my fist directly at his crotch, but he jumps aside fast, then backhands me in the face, so hard that only his hand in my hair keeps me from falling to the floor.
“That was a stupid thing to try,” he growls, then throws me on the floor where I land heavily on my back. He immediately kneels over me, using his legs to pin down my arms. I struggle wildly but it’s almost impossible for me to move in this position. I can kick my legs but can’t get any leverage to move. I glare up at him and am furious to see he’s actually laughing at me. My arms are starting to feel numb; he’s a big man, bull-solid, and he’s deliberately pressing his whole weight down on me.
I finally realize that struggling is futile and stop moving, staring up at him instead. He meets my gaze with a coolly appraising look, a hint of amusement in his eyes. Then he reaches down and slowly and deliberately opens his pants and takes his cock out. From my position it’s inches from my face and I turn bright scarlet and turn my face away to avoid looking at it. He grabs my head by the hair again and forces me to face it, so I shut my eyes in protest, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of doing what I know he wants me to do.
Then, to my horror, he starts to slap it against my face. My eyes open in reflexive shock and I hear him laugh again. His cock is getting bigger and harder by the second, its heavy blunt length smacking me firmly over and over again, not hurting me but making me boil with rage and humiliation. Precum is starting to leak out of it and he rubs it on my lips, which I immediately clamp firmly closed.
He puts a big hand over my nose and pinches my nostrils, shutting off my air supply. I didn’t expect this and can’t hold my breath for very long and open my mouth for air. He doesn’t try to push his cock in, as I expected. Instead, he takes one huge fist and rubs gently against my lips, smearing the precum into my mouth. Than he pushes his hand hard against my mouth, pressing my lips painfully back against my teeth.
“I’m going to fuck your mouth now,” he says. “Try and bite me, and I’ll knock all your teeth out. And I’ll still fuck your mouth, while you choke on your own blood. Understand?” I look up at him, terrified, and he can tell from the look in my eyes that I understand, all right.
“Open up, then,” he says, and although I’m furious, my fear outweighs my anger and I grudgingly unclench my jaw and part my lips.
He thrusts in my mouth so hard I’m caught by surprise. I gag and have to fight to keep the bile from rising in my throat. I sputter and gasp and can’t help but try to turn my head away but he holds me in place and continues to force his cock in and out. I can feel tears pouring from my eyes as I continue to choke, only to gain the briefest respite as he pulls his cock briefly out of my mouth and rubs it across my face so my tears, saliva, and precum are smeared all over me. Then he returns to fucking my face hard, moaning softly with pleasure. He slaps my face from time to time, bringing fresh tears of humiliation and pain to my eyes.
I’m feeling dizzy from the lack of air when he pulls back abruptly and gets off of me. He gets to his feet, and watches me, holding his cock in his hand, stroking it slowly, a smile on his face. I lie still for a second, inhaling great gulps of air, then very slowly and cautiously get up, eyes on his face. My arms ache from being pinned and I rub them, trying to force life and energy back into them. I start backing slowly away until he orders me to stop. I halt in my tracks, and remain still.
“Turn around,” he says, his voice cracking out low and sharp. I almost start to move automatically in response to the command, then catch myself and stop. I shake my head in negation. He grins.
“You’re a slow learner, aren’t you?” And with that he moves forward so fast I don’t have time do more than flinch as he grabs me, twists me around, and slams me up against the wall.