Sophia's feet pounded on the concrete, her ponytail whipping around behind her. She checked her watch, keeping the time as she turned into an alleyway. Reaching the alleyway meant that she was about three-fourths through her run. The alley was usually deserted, except for a stray cat here and there. It was like any other alley in the city, garbage cans here and there, steps leading down into the basements of the buildings on either side. People always warned her about running by herself through an alley like this one, but nothing had ever happened to her here.
Her iPod was set on shuffle as always, so when 'Angel' by Sarah McLachlan came on, she quickly moved to change it, not wanting to think about abused puppies and kittens. As such, she was not paying attention, and failed to notice the hooded figure in black crouched behind a garbage can. He darted out, and before she noticed, locked an iron grip on her arm.
It took her a few seconds to actually register the brazen assault, but by then he had already yanked her to the steps. He half-shoved, half-dragged her down the steps. Sophia hit him frantically with her free hand, but he grabbed it and twisted. She yelped, now trying to kick, but he kept drag-shoving her, until they were inside the alcove. Ahead was a door that she knew would lead up to the building proper.
She broke away from him and dashed for the door. It was locked.
Before she could shout for help, the stranger slammed into her back, pushing her against the door. Just as quickly, he yanked her back and shoved her hard against the wall. She tried to throw an elbow back at him, but he twisted away. Taking advantage of the brief opening, Sophia threw her weight back at him, managing to knock him backwards. Again she dashed for freedom, this time towards the steps leading back up to the alley, shouting for help. He was on her again halfway there, one arm looping around her waist to haul her off her feet, his free hand closing over her mouth.
He threw her back onto the concrete, stunning her. Lights danced in her head, but the stranger gave her no quarter, pulling her up and again slamming her into the wall.
Something cold pressed against her neck.
"Stop struggling," came the gruff voice.
She froze, fear mounting. She was alone, in an empty alcove, with a knife-wielding stranger.
The cold still pressed against her neck, and she was aware of the stranger also pressed against her. A hand slipped around, brushing against her front, and she jerked.
"Stand still and I won't hurt you."
Sophia's mind was working quickly, to decide between fighting and letting the stranger do what he wanted. He had a knife, and seemed stronger than her. If she fought, she could get seriously hurt. If she did not fight...
The reason for such indecision was because of a feeling growing in her gut.
Sophia had always had a fantasy, one that she had denied and ignored for the longest time, never telling boyfriends. It involved the same situation she was sure she was now in: accosted by a stranger and forced into sex. She had imagined the anonymity and helplessness to be massive turn-ons. Many times, she had tried to act it out with a boyfriend. Either the boyfriend found it too weird for them or the experience was diluted by knowing that she was in zero danger. Now she was actually living out a fantasy and her body was responding. This stranger had not asked for money, had not asked for anything at all, but the way he was holding her, the fact that he had dragged her to someplace secluded, made it seem obvious to her what his intention was.
His hand dipped down, sliding over her t-shirt, stopping briefly at the waistband of her running shorts. She could feel his breath on her neck, the cold at her neck briefly receding. Through the haze in her mind came a rational voice, with a strategy to lure him into calm and strike when his guard was down.
This voice was silenced when his hand slipped underneath the waistband. She lost her train of thought.
The hand cupped her sex through the panties, an approving murmur coming from behind her. She shivered at the touch, trying not to make any noise. Undeterred, the hand darted into her panties. A moan escaped her lips. Another approving murmur sounded behind her, and she blushed, feeling the heat mount.
Sophia was finding it hard to believe this was actually happening to her, but there were plenty of sensations letting her know this was not a dream. The stranger was pressed to her back, a hardness she was trying to ignore accompanying it. His other hand had slipped around to her breasts; the hand in her panties was driving her crazy, making her forget the situation.
"Somebody's wet," he said. Her blush grew hotter as she realized he was right.
Sophia gasped, taken by surprise as his mouth closed on her neck, sucking at the sensitive flesh. She jerked, solid in his hold, and moaned as she felt his teeth scrape lightly.
The stranger continued savoring her, tasting her, feeling her. She writhed helplessly, any resistance slipping away.
Again he took her by surprise, hauling her down to the ground. Her mind was scattered and distracted by her arousal, but it crystallized for her that this was going to happen. Briefly she thought about trying for another escape, but the stranger's grip was strong and she was wet. She snuck a peek at him; he had a ski mask on, shielding everything but his eyes and mouth. He guided her down onto all fours, the concrete cold underneath her.
She glanced over her shoulder, watching as the stranger took position behind her. The exit to the alcove, and entrance to the alleyway, was over his shoulder. The prospect of escape was far from her mind, especially as the stranger yanked down her shorts and panties, exposing her pussy to the cool air. His hand slid up her shirt, the muscles in her back tensing under his touch.
"Head down, ass up," he commanded. She obeyed without hesitation, resting her head on her forearms. Several long moments passed. Her cheeks burned red as he gazed at her exposed sex.
Something hard nudged against her wet channel. She held her breath, waiting. Again came the rational voice.
This is it,
it said.
This is the turning point. Leave or take what he gives you.
Again her arousal overruled the voice.
Sophia was so wet, so slick, and the stranger slid easily inside her. He fed more and more of his length into her, until his hips pressed into hers. She whimpered, feeling dirty and depraved, about to be fucked by a stranger, and sopping wet for it.
His hands settled on her hips.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked.
"Husband," she admitted. He chuckled.
