Illusory Intent

She was sitting on the couch, half reading, half watching TV. A quiet night at home. The roommates were all out for the night.

The door opened, but she doesn't pay attention. A roommate home, big deal.

A hand covers her mouth. She is silenced before she can even think to scream.

The other hand holds a knife. Slowly it flashes into her eyes, then is pressed into her throat. He is still behind her, she doesn't know who he is.

He pushes the knife so hard against her throat she has a hard time breathing. The blade presses against her artery. She feels the blade bite her neck with each quickened beat of her heart.

He tells her not to move. She won't. If she moves, he will cut her. The knife is so sharp it won't take much. He takes his hand off her mouth, then slips something over her eyes. She can't see anything.

He takes the knife from her throat, but runs the sharp point along the back of her neck as he moves in front of her. She knows it's there. She won't dare try to move. He knows she's scared. He can smell her fear. It excites him. It feeds him.

He straddles her legs and sits on her lap. He is not going to gag her. He wants to hear her scream, hear her beg.

He uses the knife to cut off her shirt. She tries to fight him. He takes her hands, places them on her thighs and kneels on them so she can't move. She's pinned down. He can't hold her hands, he needs his. One for the knife, one for her. He grabs her breast and begins to knead it. Rough calluses scratch her tender flesh. He scrapes the knife over her other breast. Flicks the nipple with the tip. It pops up, eager for more attention. She is moaning and struggling. She hasn't yelled yet. He is disappointed. He will have to do something to change that.

He hops off of her, grabs the front of her jeans and pulls her off the couch. He makes her stand up. Then he tears off what is left of her shirt, letting it fall to the floor. She is naked from the waist up. Exposed, vulnerable.

He walks backwards, pulling her along by the front of her jeans. He tells her what he is going to do. He is going to tie her up and hurt her. He wants to make her scream. He will make her scream.

Her bedroom door is open. He drags her in there and throws her on the bed. He climbs on after her. He puts the knife down and pulls her pants off. She kicks at him and tries to crawl away. He gets the pants off anyway. Then he grabs her by the ankle and yanks her down on the bed again.

He has a small spool of rope. He ties one end around her ankle, then ties it to the bed and cuts it off. She tries to kick him again as he grabs the other leg to do the same with it. She gets a hard slap for fighting. She is so stunned, she stops struggling, just for a moment. That's all he need to tie down the other leg. Now she can't run. He grabs her right wrist. Now she really starts to fight, but her legs are useless and she can't see anything. She thrashes out, to where she thinks he is. She misses, but he grabs her wrist and laughs. He loops rope around both of her wrists, pulls her arms across her stomach and ties the loose ends together behind her back.

She is bucking and thrashing trying to get him off her. This only excites him more. Now she is helpless. He pushes her flat onto her back and straddles her again. Her full breasts are pushed together and out by her arms. He pulls and pushes them. Twists and grabs them. She whimpers. He claws at her, digging for her. He reaches behind himself and finds what he is looking for. She cries out as he forces his fingers inside her. He laughs at her and pushes harder. He feels her terror start to build. It excites him even more.

With his other hand, he tears at her nipples. She thinks he's going to rip them off.

He slides down her body, grinding his jeans covered crotch into her. Pressing and rubbing her most sensitive places. She feels his hardness swell between his legs. His jeans begin to stretch at the seams as his cock tries to break free. She can feel him growing, pushing against her softness. Even through his jeans, she can tell how huge he is. She starts to think how it will feel when he enters her. He won't be kind about it either. She knows he will ram himself into her. She starts to panic again. He knows it and he loves it.

Suddenly, he climbs off of her. She can hear him moving around the room, but she can't see anything. She doesn't know where he is or what he's doing. She is at his mercy, and he has none. So naked, so vulnerable, so assailable. He is going through her drawers and her closet. What is he looking for?

Maybe he'll just rob me and leave, she hopes. She knows he won't. She strains against the blindfold, trying to get a look at him, see what he is doing. Not knowing is almost worse than the assault it's self.

He is coming back to the bed. She can hear him walking across the room. She still doesn't know exactly where he is or what he's doing though. Not knowing what to expect, she expects the worst.

Suddenly, without warning, she is torn apart. At least that's what it feels like to her. He has shoved something cold and hard into her. He keeps pushing it deeper and deeper until she feels like it will come out her back. He is slamming it in over an over. She cries out. He laughs. Then, just as suddenly as it started, he rips it out. What ever it was is now replaced by his hand. Not a finger or two, his whole hand. The wiggling fingers are stretching her out all over inside. He jams it in, over and over until she screams. That's what he's been waiting for. When he pulls his hand out, it feels like he has turned her inside out. He climbs back on the bed and centers himself over her hole. She can feel him just staring at her. What is he doing now? She can't stand the suspense. If he's going to rape her, just get it over with and leave. The waiting is more torture than anything else.

She can tell he has undressed. The reality of what is happening to her starts to really sink in. She starts to struggle again. She tries to get away, but every time she pulls against the ropes they get tighter, biting into her flesh. She is losing the feeling in her hands and feet. She doesn't care, she just wants out. He warns her to stop fighting, but she won't listen. The panic has taken over. She thrashes from side to side. All she can move is her upper body. That's ok though. He doesn't want her upper body. He wants what is nestled in her center. But he slaps her, to make her stop flailing.

He slams himself inside her. He almost shoots off right then and there. She is so hot. Even though he stretched her out first, he can still feel her tear as he drives into her. He buries himself into her and starts grinding. His pubic bone is bruising her. The pain is good, it reminds him why he's there. He pulls out almost all the way, then drives himself even deeper into her. She screams again and again. That's what he needed to hear. Over and over again, he sinks deeper into her with every thrust. Pounding away at her. Hammering into her. In and out, over and over. He can't stop now, he's too close. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to stop.

She can feel him growing inside her as the blood rushes to his cock. She is amazed she can still feel anything, she is so raw from the friction.

The slamming and thrusting intensifies. He is close, she can feel it. Her body betrays her and she explodes in orgasm after orgasm. That is all he needs. He erupts. She feels his release inside her. Hot and sticky. She milks him with her body, squeezing every last drop out of him.

He is spent. He collapses on top of her, crushing her beneath him.

Straining to catch her breath under his weight, she whispers a sweet thanks to her lover for bringing her biggest fantasy to life.