A revised (and better) version of my first story: A tired Christine is brutally fucked after a run. Her tired body is used by a masked brute not far from her apartment
*
Relief washes over Christine as she enters her building upon finishing her run. Though tired and sweaty Christine looks past the elevator & steels herself to take the stairs. What is usually a quick jaunt up 6 flights of stairs for Christine now looks like Mt. Everest.
"I can do this," she mutters under her breath. Though she is not a statuesque beauty who captures every eye when she passes through a room, she is undeniably pretty.
At 25 Christine still doesn't realize how gorgeous she is. Being 5' 5" she is neither tall nor short, but can always be found in a crowd. A beautiful smile, cute face with high cheek bones, beautiful brown eyes, & though she hates her thick shoulder-length curly reddish-brown hair it actually compliments her fair complexion, these attributes set her apart. Her well-toned body seems to be all legs. Her black yoga pants accentuate her long gorgeous legs, as well as the curvature of her tight sexy ass. Christine still works hard for her flat stomach, but even with all her beauty she hates her modest B cup breasts & sensitive dime sized nipples.
"Ugh, 1 more flight then I can start dinner for Jake and me," she says to quietly motivate herself. Standing on the landing bracing for the short distance remaining she thinks of her long-term boyfriend Jake.
"I love that bastard, but he have better peeled those potatoes. He's probably still sleeping since he is working 3rd shift." Half the lights flicker then go out.
"Shit!" Christine cries out as she misjudges her step and twists her ankle.
"Now this really sucks, I can barely see anything and my foot is on fire."
Just as she decides to hop her way up the remaining stairs to the 6th floor a hand grabs her hair from behind. Her eyes widen, Christine is desperate to yell, but the shock of the vicious hair pulling steals her voice as she fails to scream. In a mere moment the searing pain in her scalp disappears as she is thrown against the wall. As Christine crashes face first into the wall she is desperate to regain balance and relieve her foot. Before she can even consider escape a firm body presses her against the wall & a large gloved hand covers her mouth.
"Shut up," a man's deep voice whispers in her ear, his lips grazing her ear. His hefty body presses flush against her back trapping her against the wall. Just as Christine opens her mouth to yell, a switchblade is pressed against her throat. The cool blade feels like ice against her sweating body. Her mind cannot register the quiet threats coming from his lips, she is too focused on the blade & his free hand delicately caressing her arm. She feels tears begin to well up in her eyes, but fights them back, only letting one escape down her cheek. His abrupt pulling of her hair causes her to elicit a slight yelp & she again focuses on his voice.
"Listen up bitch, you give me what I want and I'll let you live to jog another day. I'm going to fuck you and I'm going to fuck you hard."
Hearing this Christine frantically flails and screams into her attackers' hand in a desperate attempt to escape. He responds by squeezing her face harder & further pushes his large body against her back to cruelly crush her against the wall, all the while chuckling at her struggles.
"Oh, stop that," he coos into her ear with a seductive sarcasm, gently tapping the knife against her vulnerable throat.
"Hush now, it's OK. You're tired from your run; just give it up slut and remember if you keep fighting, or yell again."
He emphasizes 'yell' with a harsher tone, applying pressure to the blade, & quickly grabbing her wrist to painfully twist behind her back. After holding her wrist in the uncomfortable position a few moments his lips gently nibble her ear lobe, but he then bites it rather hard before saying:
"I will either knock you out or kill you. Both of these options still leave me with a body to fuck. So either take it like a good whore or be a dead whore."
Christine now shaking more so, dreading whatever abuse soon to be upon her. Standing there, pushed up against the wall quietly sobbing Christine desperately hopes Jake will storm down those steps and save her. He's so close she thought to herself, just up those few remaining stairs. She now regrets the decision to choose an older rather vacant building. Christine begins to appraise the assailants' firm muscular body while he gruffly kisses & bites her ears & neck, but sobs harder upon noticing the growing girth between his legs. With little effort he hefts her body off the floor in order to move them into the darkened corner.
"Here's the deal: I don't care if you cum, but if you do . . . you will thank me for fucking you. If it hurts, which I'm sure it will, you will still thank me."
Christine failing to fight back tears renews her struggle, but quickly stops moving upon feeling the knife travel slowly down her chest to her exposed stomach. Though the thought of where he is going to put the blade terrified her, the cold metal feels refreshing as it slides toward her navel. Goosebumps now rise on her warm, damp skin and as she closes her eyes accepting her fate as she is spun around.
Now with her back to the wall she stares at the shadowed silhouette of her tormentor. Unable to make out any defining details except that his powerful frame towers over her. Looking upon the seemingly 6'3 beast with the shoulders of a linebacker threatening her all hope of escape vanishes.
"Shh," he commands before swiftly stabbing the knife into the wall above them.
Moving his hand from her mouth down to her throat and squeezes to ensure her compliance. Christine shudders when his thick fingers nearly reach all the way around her dainty neck. His other hand now freely caresses her bare stomach, delicately grazing her sides, fingers playing along the bottom of her small shirt, but his gentle touching becomes aggressive & painful when he reaches her breasts.
Christine groans in shame as his free hand angrily pulls her shirt & bra out of his way then squeals in pain when he quickly slaps her now exposed breasts. Clutching her left breast & then the right; his hand capable of totally encompassing each soft round globe, he painfully toys with each. Christine's porcelain white chest quickly turns red upon enduring his kneading, slapping, and digging his nails into her breasts. Her sensitive nipples are also not safe from abuse each suffering squeezing, twisting, flicking, biting, & even pulling. Christine's heavy breathing & continual shifting of her body during the abuse drain what little strength left within her.