Left Behind

I had had a horribly boring Friday night. I'd gone out with some friends but the places we went just seemed so dreary and dead. I'd finished up going home early and catching a reasonably early night.

I followed this up with a boring Saturday. I don't currently have a boyfriend, dropping him when I found he was cheating. I could possibly overlook him having a casual date with another woman but I saw who he was cheating on me with. I mean, she was a dog. How he could cheat on me with someone like her; well, it was just plain insulting.

So I was on the loose and when my friends suggested that I come out with them on Saturday night I thought, why not? It had to be better than staying at home.

So we went out and hit one of the local clubs and, as chance would have it, we met some guys we knew. They'd just stopped by on the way to a party. Said we were welcome to tag along. Some friends of theirs were just throwing a bit of a bash. No real reason for it, they just wanted to have a party.

Anyway, we all rocked up at this party and everything was fine. There was loud music and dancing and a friendly crowd. They'd drawn the line at adolescents. We had to show proof of age before we allowed in. Apparently the father of one of the guys organising things had forked out for a couple of barrels, and the beer was on the house. That's why the no minors rule. A hassle with cops about underage drinking was not on the agenda.

I had fun, drinking and dancing and flirting with some of the guys. Not full on flirting, just a bit of sexy back talk with a few innuendos that I let slip by if I thought they were a bit too personal. I had no intention of jumping straight back into the dating pool. I was going to just cool it for a while.

It was the free beer that my undoing. I don't exactly have much of a head for alcohol. Not that I get blotto. I just seem to settle down and go to sleep as soon as I've had one too many, waking in the morning with no problems and no hangovers. The latter is a source of satisfaction.

I must have had that one drink too many while at the party and gone looking for a place to have a snooze. I woke up in the morning to find myself on a couch in the front room of the place where they'd help the party. I guess that when it was time to go my friends looked around and couldn't spot me and must have assumed that I'd left. The result being that I'd been left behind, unclaimed baggage.

Waking without a hangover is useful. Instead of groaning and wailing for some Panadol I just hopped up off the couch. My intension was to sneak out and find my way home. Irritating really. I'd dressed for a nightclub and I had on a slinky red dress that showed off both my breasts and my legs. (Actually, right at that moment it was also showing my panties, having ridden up while I was sleeping.) A nice dress if you're at a party but not the sort of thing you want to be wearing when strolling home on a Sunday morning.

I was just starting to straighten my dress when someone spoke to me.

"Nice legs," I was told. "I take it you're a remnant from last night's party."

I very hastily finished pushing my dress into place, even while I was turning to see who was speaking. There was a man, about forty, leaning against the door, a smile on his face as he looked at my legs.

"Ah, yes, I guess," I said. "I must have fallen asleep and my friends overlooked me when they left."

"Careless of them," he said. "I don't think I'd have overlooked you if you'd been with me. I'm William, by the way. This is my humble abode. The boys asked if they could use it for their little party. I was away for most of the night so I didn't mind, as long as they tidied up before they finished. Which they have done, it seems, except for you. And you would be?"

"Ah, I'm Paula," I told him. "Sorry to be a nuisance. I'll get out of your way."

"Oh, you're not a nuisance," William said. "In fact I'm quite pleased to see you. You fit right in with the warnings I gave the boys. I'm actually quite pleased to see someone as attractive as you."

"I don't understand," I replied cautiously. "What's with the comment on warnings?"

"Oh, that. It's just that I told the boys if they left anyone behind I was going to have them outside mowing my lawns. Unless it was someone female in which case I was taking them to bed. You, I have to admit, look very much the sort of female I was thinking about."

I was already shaking my head.

"Sorry. Not going to happen," I said, speaking quickly. "I'm not into casual sex and I don't even know who you are."

"Yes you do. I already told you. I'm William. As for casual sex, you'll find it's fun."

Maybe I would and maybe I wouldn't. I just wasn't interested in finding out.

"Sorry," I repeated, trying to sound regretful. "I'm just not interested. I'll just be getting along."

"Actually, I'm the one who's sorry. I should have been a bit clearer when I explained. I'm going to fuck you. End of story."

I'm like, "What!? He can't be serious."

He could be, I realized, seeing the way he was looking at me."

"Ah, seriously, that would be a bad idea," I told him. "I've said no and there could be trouble if you tried to force me."

He looked impressed. NOT!

He just ambled over to where I was standing and grabbed me. Just like that, one step, two step, and grab. I tried to dodge but he was fast. I started yelling and struggling and he just took hold of my wrists in one of his hands and started stripping me.

I wriggled and yelled and he peeled my panties off, flicking my shoes off at the same time. (And how come I was still wearing my shoes after being asleep all night. You'd think I'd have kicked them off.) He unzipped my dress and pulled that off me, totally ignoring the way I was struggling. I knew men were stronger than women but I just hadn't known how much stronger. Here I was struggling as hard as I could and he didn't even seem to notice.

"Last, but not least," he crooned in my ear, while he snapped open the clasp to my bra. Pushing that down and getting it off left me without a scrap to hide behind. I was stark staring naked and he was holding my hands behind my back while he checked me out.

Apparently happy with what he saw he simply picked me up, slung me over his shoulder, and carried me out of the room and further into the house, totally ignoring the fact that I was kicking my legs and hitting his back. He finished up taking me into a bedroom and standing me up. At least, he hadn't just thrown me onto the bed.

"Now, look," I yelled at him. "This is ridiculous. I said I'm not having sex with you and I mean it. Cut out this nonsense and let me go."

"Stop with the protesting," he grumbled. "It gets old, fast. I've already told you what I'm going to do. If you don't like it, too bad. Just quieten it down a little. You're likely to give a man a headache, bitching on like that. Now bend over then end of the bed, there's a good girl."

I bent over the end of the bed. Not like a good girl, though. I bent over like a girl who had a massive hand clamped on the back of her neck and forced to bend over.

"Now just stay like that until I'm ready for you," William said flatly. "I won't be long."

As soon as he took his hand off me I was standing up again. The hell with what he said. Trouble was he expected that. Half way up and his hand was at the nape of my neck and I was bending back down. I heard him give a little sigh.

"Why don't people listen," he growled, and he spanked my bottom. His hand came down so hard and fast that I could hear it whistling through the air. I didn't catch on until it landed and then, wowch. That's a combination of wow and ouch. It left me astonished and smarting. I squealed and I'm quite sure I leapt several feet into the air before sprawling onto the bed.

William calmly got me back up and bending over the bed, very conscious of my bottom.

"Now please just stay like that," he admonished me, letting me go again.

"Here's your chance. Run," I screamed to myself.

"Don't you bloody move," shouted my bottom, and my legs voted along with my bottom and I stayed right where I was.

"Just relax and contemplate what it will be like when we start to have a little bit of fun," William said, giving my bottom a little pat.

"Think with this for a change," he added, and the swine had the gall to poke my pussy.

So things steadily moved from bad to worse. I'd been left alone in a strangers house, he'd stripped me, beat me and insulted me. And I had to stay there, positioned like a sex doll, waiting for him to come and use me. If he'd left the room I'd have been gone, even if it meant climbing out of the window naked, but he didn't. He was just moving around behind me, doing who knows what.

Me. That's who knows. He'd been getting undressed. If I'd been watching I might have made a run for it while his trousers were on the way down. There again, I might not have, my smarting bottom told me. Whatever, it was too late now.

Can you just imagine how I felt, naked and exposed and bent over, knowing what was going to happen? I'd turned my head when I saw him out of the corner of my eye, seeing him now naked and ready, and my pussy just cringed at what he was carrying. I so did not want this.

Then he was standing behind me, his hand gently rubbing along my mound, lightly massaging my lips. I almost screamed with shock but bit my lip and said nothing, expecting his cock to come in any second.

It didn't. He just kept on rubbing my pussy. He stroked it. He lightly patted it. He massaged me firmly but gently, letting me feel his touch deep inside. He ran his thumb back and forth along my slit, and I could feel his nail lightly scraping against my lips.

He kept on doing this and I could feel myself responding. My lips were swelling and pursing, I could tell. When he slowly rubbed along my slit and I could feel his hand brushing against my inner lips, well, that meant they were protruding, asking to be touched.

Having my inner lips pouting and asking for attention seemed to be the signal for the next phase. He eased a finger, then two, between my lips, lightly extending his massage inside me. His fingers pushed in quite deep, with no problems at all. My self-lubrication seemed to be in excellent working order. He kept on probing around, almost as if he was looking for something, then he brushed against my clitoris and I screamed.

The heartless bastard laughed.

"Ready for a bit of fun are we?" he asked, and his fingers were pulling my lips apart, stretching them. Did he think they were made of elastic, damn him?

His cock came butting up against me, leaning on the flesh he was exposing. He let my lips go and they snapped back into place, finding him there and closing around me. With that he was pushing steadily into me.

I was protesting, saying, "No, no, no, no, no."

I hate to admit it but even to my own ears it was sounding like a lustful, "Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh."

With every "NO" (or "OH") he pushed a bit more. I could feel him there, pressing against me, filling my passage, or was it a case of my passage was pressing against him as it yielded then clung. Whatever, his hands were on my hips, holding me steady while he forged ahead, slowly but surely sinking in.

I suppose I should be thankful that he didn't just go bang and take me in one foul swoop. The gentle approach was much more arousing and fulfilling, but somehow I just did NOT feel grateful for his consideration. I was resenting the fact that he was getting me aroused and liking what he was doing. He had no right to make me enjoy it and I told him so.

Typically, he ignored anything I had to say, just continuing the same way until he was right inside me. Once his groin had banged up against mine he actually had the audacity to pull back a tiny bit and bang it in again. He did that a couple of times, as though making sure he was safely home. It felt damned peculiar.

Apparently satisfied that his cock was where it should be he let go my hips, reaching around and capturing my breasts. He started stroking them, working on the nipples to make sure they were at attention (They already were, unfortunately. My whole body had snapped to attention when his cock finally invaded), teasing them to make sure they stayed at attention.

With everything to his liking he got down to work. Poor man. He must feel woefully inadequate to want everything to be just so when he started to have serious sex. While his hands held my breasts he started to fuck me.

It doesn't sound much when you say it like that but, oh god, he fucked me over well and good. He would pull back until his cock was only just engaged and I'd be wondering if it was going to fall out, his hands loose on my breasts. Then his hands would tighten and he'd come driving in hard and fast, filling me with a rush.

The rush wasn't just the way his cock was driving into me. After a few strokes like that I was getting a rush of blood to go along with his rushing cock. His tightening hands would be my signal and I'd be pushing my bottom up and back, meeting his oncoming cock, helping it to drive home. It wasn't that I wanted to do this. I just couldn't help myself.

He built up an exhilarating rhythm, making me bounce like a wild thing, gasping with pleasure as he took me. OK. I know I'm admitting that he was giving me pleasure, but that wasn't my fault. He knew what he was doing and how to best do it. I mean, he didn't even stick me until he knew I was aroused and wanting him. (Physically, I mean. I never said yes.)

As well as skill, William had stamina. He just seemed able to keep on going, slowly driving me out of my mind. It took me a little while to work out how he was managing that. He'd be ploughing the happy fields, driving full tilt, and I'd be happily expecting a climax, definitely from him and hopefully from me. All would be well because the whole ordeal would shortly be over.

Then he'd slow down for a moment, telling me how good I felt, how he enjoyed the feel of my body against his, what wonderful breasts I had (giving them an extra squeeze), and while these little compliments rained upon me and flattered me, the excitement would be dying down just that little bit, both his and mine, but his more than mine I suspected.

The fucking would resume, a steady increase in speed would be applied until he was back to his standard tempo and away he'd go, having the time of his life while my excitement steadily increased. After each pause my excitement would resume from a slightly higher level than the previous pause, resulting with me being on an even higher level of pleasure and expectation when the next pause rolled around.

It couldn't keep on like that, of course, with me reaching ever higher levels of excitement. Something had to give and I knew what it would be. Me. I was just going to roll over and die before too much longer.

William judged it to a nicety. He must, I think, have had a fair bit of practice at taking women, forcefully and otherwise. I was just about ready to start gibbering and screaming when instead of pausing he drove in with a bit of extra oomph.

That was all it took on my part. I climaxed, and boy, did I climax. I vaguely felt him delivering a bit more of that extra oomph but that was purely for his own climax. I already had mine rolling over me and shutting out everything else.

Afterwards I had a shower and got dressed again. William dug up a t-shirt and a dress that fitted quite well so I wouldn't have to go home in my nightclub dress, which was thoughtful. It was also irritating. I didn't want him to be thoughtful. He brutalised me. OK. Maybe he didn't exactly brutalise me, but it was the principle that counted.

I considered reporting him but can you imagine the result? There would be a court case and his lawyer would cross examine me. He'd ask me to describe the rape. I'd do so and the lawyer would wait for me to finish and then say in a wicked voice, "And exactly what was your complaint about the way he raped you? You appear to have enjoyed it." Then what could I say? No thanks, no court cases for me. I'd just be more careful about what parties I went to.