The house is silent. You lie motionless on your bed. You have put on something special for him... a matching set of lingerie. You can't seem to close your eyes. At the slightest hint of sound, you strain your ears. Was that him? No. Just the house settling. A car passing by on the street outside. Wait, was that the door being softly closed? Locked? You wait for what feels like an eternity, your breath catching shallowly. No. No. Everything is quiet.
You can feel your heart racing. Just thinking about this has had you on edge all day. Is it really going to happen? What is he... going to do to you? You told him to be rough... but how far will he go? There is a taste of fear mixed in with your excitement. Your arousal. The knowledge that you are giving up control, completely, is intoxicating. Just thinking about it makes you shiver a little.
For the hundredth time tonight you roll over and look at the clock. Fuck. He's late. Really late.
You check your phone. He wasn't supposed to text you unless something had gone wrong. But you have no messages. He's not coming. That loser. You check the clock one more time. Then your phone. Nothing.
Grumbling, you climb out of your bed- where just moments before, you had imagined him. Looming over you. Pouncing on you, holding you down, you squirming beneath his weight and strength, trying to fight...
You put on a robe and pad softly toward the kitchen. Maybe you'll fix yourself a drink. You still feel a little nervous, in spite of yourself. You don't bother hitting the lights, you know your way in the dark.
You're almost to the kitchen when it happens. Fast. You don't even hear him. But in an instant, you feel him behind you. All you can manage is a startled yelp before a gloved hand wrenches your chin back painfully, the rough fibers filling your mouth. His other arm snakes across your body and clamps, firmly, right between your legs.
