Overpowered At The Office Ch 04

True to his word, Simon drove Sandra home. On the way he tried to engage her in conversation and even had the nerve to ask her to have dinner with him the following night, but she just stared out the window. Sandra's mind was in damage-control. Trying to shut out his deep voice, her imagination strained to think of ways to get out of her predicament. She clenched her teeth as every solution she considered was shot down by the existence of that blasted phone video.

Having just experienced the greatest orgasm of his life, Simon was in too good a mood to force her to talk to him. With minimal effort and great pleasure on his part, the one woman he wanted was wrapped around his little finger. His body was in a state of relaxed bliss, and the world was his oyster. Life was certainly worth celebrating.

Sandra lived in a second-floor sunny-coloured apartment, in a rather nice neighbourhood. Simon didn't comment, but he made a mental note of her address. Although he was silent, Sandra knew better than to hope he wasn't paying attention, especially after what he'd said about wanting to see where she lived.

As his luxury vehicle pulled to the curb, she jumped out before the car had completely stopped, managing to avoid the reaching hand that tried to pull her in for a kiss. Through the open window of the passenger side, his laughter followed her as she blindly ran into the safety of her building.

Entering her apartment, Sandra promptly locked the door behind her. She dropped her bag onto the floor, staggered through the hallway to the bathroom and leaned both hands on the sink for support, breathing heavily, savouring the personal freedom she'd taken for granted. Raising her head, she looked at her reflection. Even now, she looked terrified. Her eyes stared wildly back at her.

"Did that really just happen?" she said out loud, in disbelief.

Focusing on her reflection, she noted her wide eyes, her swollen lips from the kissing and sucking, her voluminous hair from Simon's grip as he forced her to take him deeper, and the thin veil of white residue coating parts of her chin.

Sandra inhaled sharply, aghast. After her vigorous efforts to erase all traces, Simon's cum was still on her face. In the car when he tried to chit-chat, smiling his little half-smile at her, he must have known the whole time.

Worst of all, she was aware of substantial moistness between her legs, and knew she hadn't wet herself. After that whole awful degrading experience, she was aroused. The only saving grace was that Simon didn't know about it, thank God - that would have been the icing on her cake of humiliation. Remembering the kiss and how he caressed her, she couldn't have controlled her body's response.

And then she'd been forced to choose the lesser of two evils. With these options, in hindsight, she recognised that Simon had outsmarted her, pure and simple. Sandra bitterly realised it would have been better if he was rough, if he hurt her. That way it would have been a black-and-white case of assault. But now, she didn't know what it was.

She had to do something, but what? What could she say to the police without looking like an idiot? A scene played out in her mind, and Sandra imagined herself charging into a police station and being directed to report her attack.

'Officer, I've been assaulted!'

'What happened?' The make-believe policeman leans across his desk in concern.

'My colleague attacked me!' she cries.

'My God, I'm so sorry,' he replies sympathetically. 'What did he do?'

'He kissed me! And then he made me go down on him!'

The officer shakes his head in disgust. 'We'll get the pig! Are you hurt in any way?'

'No.'

The officer begins to write the details. 'It's ok, we've had similar cases. We'll need to take all your clothes for evidence. Anything else I should know?'

In her fantasy, Sandra sits back hesitantly.

'He has a video where I might...appear to be enjoying it...and...'

'And?' frowns the officer.

'And, I might have been turned on a little...I don't know,' she continues in a rush, face turning red, 'it might show up on my clothes in evidence.'

The officer stares back at her coldly. 'If you're holding a grudge against some guy, this isn't the place to take it,' he informs her flatly.

'You don't understand-!' she tries desperately, but the officer holds up a hand and cuts her off.

'Lady, don't waste my time.'

Sandra snapped back to reality. Horrible as her imagination was, she realised there really was no way out. Her shoulders sagged in defeat, and she burst into tears.

********************************************

Simon planned to leave after seeing Sandra home safely, but he didn't. He sat in his shiny car, right outside her apartment, watching her lights flicker on, waiting to see her cross a window. Still looking up at her building, he absently rubbed his palm across his crotch, which was quickly coming back to life.

For a moment his heart caught in his chest as he spotted movement, and his jaw tightened in frustration as she pulled the blinds, shutting him out without giving him so much as a glimpse of her. But at least she didn't know he was still there.

"What to do, what to do..." Simon murmured to himself. Remembering the film, he shifted in his seat and retrieved his phone.

Watching it all over again rapidly aroused him, and he was surprised how much he was responding to a mere replay. Normally after sex with women Simon was quickly bored, the reason he never saw the same woman twice. With Sandra, he just didn't want to leave her alone.

"What have you done to me, Sandra?" he sighed, slipping a hand down his trousers, hypnotised by her on-screen performance.

In the corner of his eye he noticed her lights cut out, and he stopped masturbating. What the hell was he doing - wanking in a car outside a woman's home, like some inexperienced teenager? Was this what he was reduced to? When every woman who crossed his path wanted to bed him? He jerked his head in irritation. 'Almost every woman,' he corrected himself. No, he wasn't going to wait outside in the dark like some old pervert who never got any.

'That's definitely not me,' thought Simon determinedly, as he fixed his trousers and tucked away his phone.

Why should he have to pleasure himself when the very object of his desire was only metres away, at his beck and call? Sandra lived alone, he knew, and didn't have a boyfriend. Considering it was the end of the week, they had ended their night quite prematurely. Why should he retreat when here was yet another perfect opportunity to assert his dominance?

He hadn't raped Sandra at the office for two reasons. Firstly, now he had the film it wouldn't officially be rape - he can blackmail her into 'consenting'. Secondly, he wanted their first time together to be special, intimate. He wanted to enjoy her in every way he desired, for as long as he wanted, without any chance of interruption. Simon's mouth curved into a wicked smile as he imagined her anger, when she'd discover that he indeed kept his word by not raping her at the office, but that they'd still be having sex. She looked so cute when she got mad.

For a moment he watched the quiet apartment, and his eyes scanned the bottom level before travelling up to Sandra's abode. Being tall and strong certainly had it's advantages. Using the ground floor's wall, he could easily boost himself up to reach Sandra's balcony and hoist himself over. Scaling private properties to reach reluctant females was a new experience for Simon, but no less thrilling.

'Too easy,' he smiled confidently.

Simon stepped out of his car and quietly shut the door, hoping the telltale 'beep' of his alarm system wouldn't alert her.

**************************

After her crying jag, Sandra stripped off all her clothes and shoved them into a garbage bag, even her shoes. She'd take the bag down to the trash first thing in the morning, she was too exhausted to bother now.

Standing in a shower as hot as she could stand, Sandra focused on scrubbing her face and hands. She cleaned her teeth three times, following each clean with mouthwash. Eventually she began to feel better as the nights events were washed away by the clean, comforting heat of the water. When she was done she didn't bother dressing in pyjamas, settling for a fluffy brown robe.

Hair uncombed and still damp, she closed the blinds in the lounge-room, drew the curtains in her bedroom and tumbled into bed, cherishing her freedom. Though she didn't expect to sleep easy, the safety of her home and the soothing hot shower had relaxed her. Overcome by the physical exhaustion of resisting Simon combined with the emotional stress of the whole experience, within minutes she was sound asleep.

*************************************

It wasn't long before Sandra suddenly jerked awake, confused for the moment, but well-aware of the feeling in her stomach that something was wrong. Her heart began to pound as she heard noises coming from the living room.

'It's impossible,' she thought, trying to pull herself together. 'Stop being paranoid.'

But Sandra sat up with a gasp, and all thought of sleep was driven from her mind as she distinctly heard the balcony door leading into the lounge-room click shut. Her heart leapt into her throat. Someone was in her apartment!

"Oh, my God," she whispered, covering her mouth with both hands. "Please, God, no."

As much as she prayed for a gay burglar, it had to be Simon. Knowing she was barely dressed, that they were alone in her apartment, she wasn't naive enough to hope he wouldn't do her any harm. The robe she wore had no belt. Looking down at herself, it gaped open to reveal her full, round breasts peeping out. She wasn't wearing underwear, or anything else for that matter. Again, how could she have been such a fool?

'You forgot the balcony door again, you idiot!' she chastised herself, bracing for the rewards of her second error in judgement for the night.

What were her options? She could follow cliché and hide under the bed - and then be dragged out from underneath it for lack of creativity. She could try and get as many clothes on as possible before he reached her - and give him the pleasure of stripping her naked, all the while knowing she might have put that time to better use. The window was too small to climb out, but she could lean out of it and scream like a banshee. Naturally abiding by Murphy's Law the neighbours downstairs were out of town, but someone would definitely hear her.

'That's the ticket,' she encouraged herself. 'Worst case scenario I'll look like an idiot, but that's a small price compared to...' She couldn't bear to finish the thought.

Sandra wasted no time - she didn't imagine the noises that woke her, nor did she conjure up the click of her balcony door. She easily recognised the sound after the thousands of times she had closed it herself.

Diving across the bed, she scrambled to her feet and reached the window, fumbling with shaking hands to unlock the stubborn latch. The latch finally gave, she pushed with all her strength, and the window zoomed upwards, letting in a lovely gust of fresh night air.

Sandra took a deep breath, opened her mouth to cry out for help, and screamed into the large hand that clapped over her mouth.

"Looking for me?" a familiar voice breathed into her ear.

Sandra pulled with both hands at the one keeping her silent, and heard him laugh quietly as he bent forward to nuzzle her neck. Then she squealed protestingly into his palm as an arm circled her partially-naked waist, pulling her body tight against his, nudging his erection into the small of her back. The arm around her readjusted across her body diagonally, so his hand could slip under the robe and gently cup her soft, firm breast. Irrepressible tremors ran through her body as he used his fingers expertly, squeezing, rubbing and tweaking until her nipple firmed. She felt his whole body stiffen in excitement as his hand made intimate contact with her flesh for the first time.

"Nice," he whispered hoarsely. "I can barely wait for the rest."

At this comment she summoned up as much strength as she could muster and pushed up from the ground with her bare feet, trying to dislodge his hand from her mouth and his hold around her waist. Instead of loosening his hold, he went with her movements and lifted her clear off the ground. She squirmed in his grasp and in her struggle the robe worked its way open, exposing the whole front of her naked body. Simon stared down over her shoulder appreciatively, and not without amusement.

"God, Sandra," he remarked. "You couldn't be more prepared for this than if I'd given you directions myself. Now stop struggling."

"MMMFFFFF!" Sandra replied, angrily kicking her slender legs out at the air.

"Sweetheart, I don't need you to open your legs for me yet," he replied sweetly, "your window isn't shut, and we don't want to show the whole neighbourhood your assets."

He couldn't hold back a shout of laughter as she immediately snapped her toned thighs together, and he turned her toward the bed. "But it's lovely to know you're as eager as I am," he said, kissing her smooth shoulder.

He slowly leaned sideways until they tumbled into bed together. He spoke low into her ear, still gently fondling her breast as she tried to move his hand off her, furiously arching her back and twisting her torso.

"I'm going to take my hand away from your mouth," he said, "but you're not going to scream. If you scream, someone might call the police to help you, and then we'll have an embarrassing situation."

"Mfffft! Mffffffffffff!' she retorted.

Noting her stubbornness, he continued. "By embarrassing, I mean I'll have to inform the police about our lovers tiff. I know plenty of females who could verify that I'm somewhat of a playboy, and you, sweetheart, would be just another conquest of mine who didn't take rejection well. Oh yes, and of course there is the tape."

Sandra shut her eyes as she recalled her own hypothetical police scenario. Feeling her body relax in resignation, Simon slowly withdrew his hand from her mouth, ready to reapply it in a split second if she changed her mind. When she didn't cry out, he exhaled in his longing and buried his face in her hair, grinning his victory amongst her soft tresses, feeling the cool, refreshing dampness from her shower.

When he released his hand from her breast, she hastily shoved his arm away and wiggled further onto the bed, trying in fear and shame to draw her robe together. As they faced each other he marvelled at the way her eyes flashed at him even in her fright, their colour enhanced by the glare of the street light pouring over them through her window. For a short moment he watched her struggle with her robe, trying to seal it from top to bottom.

"I wouldn't bother with that," he said softly.