Strolling the Mall

This is work of fiction. No harm is intended, and anyone who cannot separate fiction from reality should try consulting a doctor. The majority of crime novelist don’t kill people, and so the majority of erotic-fiction authors don’t violate people. And, to make it clear...I don’t do any harm myself.

*****

The Second Rape

It had been a year ago. A year had passed since her life as she had known it, had ended. Three hundred and sixty five days...well, maybe one or two or three days more than that.

One year in a lifetime that, under normal circumstances would not make any change at all. One...one day that had crushed her life, had crushed her soul, her very existence. That day when she had arrived from abroad, when she had decided to stroll the mall, to do some power shopping.

That one day, when she had been locked away in the office-section of that mall. One hour, one minute...when he had taken her. That moment, that hour when he had beaten her, when he had pushed her to the ground, her head hanging over the edge of the floor, only covered by the outward curved windows from the cold night winds of New York City. And then he had raped her.

Stephanie closed her eyes for one moment, tried to stay calm while she had stopped the car at a red light.

Remember the therapy...remember that it is in the past. It will never happen again. Never...

She fought the tears, fought the fear in her body. The fear that one day, in the middle of the night he would come to her. He would stand over her bed, he would push away the sheets, would fuck her...fuck her...fuck her...fuck her....

Hot tears started running down her face and Stephanie started weeping.

It took her one moment to realize that some people behind her were pumping there horns, wanted her to step on it.

It’s over...

Stephanie pushed the pedal and her old, light green Oldsmobile started moving again. It had been a really hard time for the young woman, but now she had a job to do. A job, a focus in her life. And this one goal, this focus had become the only reason for her not to commit suicide. Her job was to find that creature.

Though, afraid as she was, though as much as she wanted to be home, on another continent... she knew that she had to face her darkest fears. She had to find him; she had to make sure he would never do that to any other woman in his lifetime again.

Her breathing became faster when she took the route towards that part of town where he was supposed to be. That dark part, that poor part...where nobody would care if she died on the streets, or if the man would rape her again.

“Oh God...please stop this. I can’t do this with that kind of thinking.”

No, she couldn’t. No.

Involuntarily Stephanie glanced over to the other seat where the gun lay, covered by an old peace of cloth.

Yes, that one was her life insurance.

She crossed the bridge and took the second exit into the darkest part of town. When she turned right onto one broad street, she could instantly make out burning trashcans and a lot of younger people standing around those cans. Stephanie’s guts were turned into one big knot and her heart kept on racing. She knew she had to go on. She had come this far and wouldn’t be stopped by her own fears.

He will rape you...

“No!”

The young woman, dressed in an expensive blouse and sand colored pants, hit the wheel with her right hand, her face distorted into one grim mask.

“No, he will not. Stop thinking that!”

Alright, baby, concentrate on your goal. Find that damned street, find the house.

A glance onto the map, also laying on the other seat, told her that she was almost there. Only minutes later she turned the car into one side street and turned right again at the next light. Now the only thing left for her to do was to find number 1123...piece of cake.

“Yes!”

There it was...number 1123, one really run down place, with only a hint of color on old stonewalls, now covered by graffiti. Stephanie pulled the car over and stopped right in front of number 1123. There she turned the key and the engine died.

It was quiet for one endless moment; one moment in which the young woman closed her eyes and felt her chest moving hard. She knew she was close now, so close, so close to him.

Oh God, give me strength...

She opened up the drivers door and stepped onto the otherwise deserted street, then locked the door and took one long look at the old building.

“Hotel NY,” it said....

Hotel Hell

It took her all her courage to move any closer to the entrance. Her fears, that inner voice that constantly told her that she was about to get raped again, drained her strength, but she kept her pace, kept her will to end this. And the pressure of the gun, underneath that old piece of cloth in her right hand was the reassuring voice of hope. And when she walked up the steps to the Hotel door, Stephanie felt a little better.

“Excuse me, sir.”

A young woman, fragile looking, in an expensive silk blouse and sand colored pants stood at the counter and tried to pick up the clerk’s attention.

“Yes?”

He was an old man with a very white beard, and his uniform seemed to be as old as the Hotel.

“I am looking for one Michael Morgan. Somebody told me, Mister Morgan has a room in your Hotel.”

The man glanced over to a group of equally old man, sitting around one table and playing cards. The men waved at him and they began laughing.

“Well, young lady, Mister Morgan is not in his room right now. If I were you, I would get back where I came from. Mister Morgan is not a very friendly person.”

Stephanie gulped some saliva and felt the knot in her guts tightening.

“I know, but I have to find him. It is very important.”

And there, the old man seemed to recognize the gun underneath that old piece of cloth. But the man did not say anything.

“Well, in that case...,” he scratched the back of his head, “go to the old Waybill Building in second street. There, in that dark and cold cellar you will find that man. I don’t know what he is doing in that cellar, and I don’t want to know. But if I were you....”

“You would go where you came from, right?!”

He simply nodded.

“Lady, you must have one hell of a good reason to go there and find that Michael Morgan.”

Stephanie’s face had become one mask of insecurity, and the color from her delegate features had left her face entirely. She was so afraid...

He will fuck you...he will massage your tits, he will stick his fat, big cock right into your pussy....again. He will rape you, darling...again

When Stephanie shook her head, the old man behind the counter just shook his head too.

“Good luck, young lady.”

Then he turned away to watch one baseball game that had been going on for the entire conversation.

Stephanie turned on one heel and left the Hotel. Her heart was pounding when she stepped onto the street again. Second street, he had said. As far as she knew, this street was only one block away, and so she did not take the car but wandered down the street, always looking for any possible danger that might await her in this dark part of town.

Against all her fears, Stephanie reached the deserted building without any incidents. With a heavy heart and a hard moving chest she stood in front of the house, shaking and realizing that the moment of truth had finally come. Now or never...all the sessions with her psychiatrist, all the long nights with her friend had lead her to this one final moment of truth. It was now or never...now...or...never.

She sighed and the grip around the gun became stronger while a cold wind came up the stairs from the dark reality of the cellar. Goosebumps appeared all over her skin, but the young woman bit on her lower lip and stepped into the house of destiny.

Drops of stale water kept on hitting the puddle underneath the stairway while her short hair was moved constantly by some sort of wind from down this house. What wind it was that war created within one building, Stephanie couldn’t say. She felt dizzy, felt unable to form a straight thought, only kept on hanging to the gun she held in a firm grip.

The young woman was shivering while she reached the end of the stairs, now faced with a long corridor, only partly illuminated by the light that felt in through one very small and widely cracked window at the end of that corridor.

Shades were moving across the light grey concrete and somewhere in the unknown distance indefinable noise was being created while a terrified young woman kept on walking down the path of her destiny. Stephanie knew oh so much that she had to find that creature. She knew her own fears had to be overcome; she knew she had to face her fears.

This man, this creature would never in his time do violence to another human being. She would kill him, if necessary. She would commit murder, would face consequences that would arise through her own actions.

No one was around, no one would watch her, would stop her from fulfilling her destiny. And the young woman in her expensive silk blouse, in her beige pants... one woman nobody would ever suspect to spend her time in this shabby part of town... suddenly felt weak.

How was she supposed to go through with this complete nonsense? This was madness... a young woman armed with a gun, in the worst part of town was after a violent drug addict. This man, who still had more strength then she ever would posses, would ... would...

There was one sound somewhere in the cellar. One sound that was being made by some other human being...followed by what told her that it was indeed a human being who had made that sound to begin with.... a cough.

Stephanie jumped, her heart started drumming in her chest and sweat was running down each side of her face.

“Anyone there...,” she whispered into the darkness.

Silent cries...muffled...

The young woman reached the end of the corridor and was forced to turn right into another corridor. Left and right of that long tunnel were metal-doors and now... now Stephanie could hear those voices. Voices of pain...silent...filled with tears.

“Oh my God...”

She stopped and felt her heart drumming heavily, loud and under a lot of stress. She looked at one of those steel doors and grabbed the lock. A light pull and the lock was open.

She looked into the small room behind the thin metal door and stopped dead in her motion. It was not possible, it was...horror...

There, stretched out on one small bench lay one girl, her arms behind her head, tears filling red eyes, shivering, looking at Stephanie in hopeless pain.

Please help me...

her eyes said... her mouth unable to speak the plea for help.

“God...!”

She was about to get into that small room, to untie the young girl when Stephanie heard another muffled cry. Right there, the room to the left...

She went over, opened up the lock and looked inside only to find the same dramatic situation: One small, young girl tied onto one small bench, looking at her with pain in her eyes.

Help me...

Stephanie shook her head.

“This monster...,” she said aloud and knew who was responsible for those horrible deeds. She was sure that those girls...how many however...certainly had been raped. Raped like herself. Locked up inside those terrible rooms, in one cellar, in those slums...young girls raped and beaten up.

She had to help them, she had to untie them, set them free. Suddenly her own pain had become a lot less important to the young woman. She saw those young women, naked, raped and suddenly became aware of her own mouth being wide open. Stephanie pushed her gun into the belt of her beige, wide pants and went over to the next, open door.

“Don’t be afraid... I will help you.”

She went into the small room unaware of the dark shadow that was creeping into the cellar behind her.

She had untied that girl; the girl with wide eyes, with shaking limps. She was dirty, had bruises all over her skinny body and flinched all of a sudden when Stephanie touched her in order to untie her from those thick robes.

“Shhh... It will be alright.”

She bent over the girl’s hands and was about to pull open the knot when two very strong hands grabbed Stephanie around her hips.

She screamed out aloud...

And her slim body was pulled back, out of the cellar into the semi-dark corridor. There, the back of Stephanie’s head hit the wall real hard and her lights were knocked out.

The first thing she noticed was that throbbing pain in her head. She knew she was awake, she knew that something was wrong, and when she realized that she wasn’t able to move her arms, she remembered what had happened to her.

Here she was... she lay on one of those benches, in one of those cells, in a dark cellar, in an abandoned house in the worst part of town.

Tears ran down her face and Stephanie opened up her eyes.

The pain wouldn’t subside, and the knot in her stomach told her that she was in big trouble. Finally she had found that thin junkie, that bastard who had raped her about one year ago. And what had happened? Did she shoot him? Did she bring him to justice? No, she did not. All she did was a transformation into the victim again.

Stephanie sighed and tried to calm herself. She had to do something, she had to get rid of those ties around her hands, had to free herself, had to get away...

But, what would happen if this creature would come to her? What? Would he rape her...for the second time? Would he rape her like he most likely had raped this other girl...or those other girls that might be laying in those cells? Would he do that? Rape her?

Stephanie closed her eyes for a moment and focused on her breathing. She felt the calmness flowing in her limps, easing away those unproductive fears. Now she felt good...better anyway. She opened her eyes again and tried to think of anything that might help her getting away. She pulled on her robes, stretched her neck and saw that the creature had tied her to one old pipe running behind her head across the wall. He had used handcuffs, shiny handcuffs not ropes. Well, there was no escape here.

Hey, bitch...do you always give up this easily?

“No...”

Though Stephanie had just whispered that word of denial, it echoed in her prison, sounded like the big bang in her ears.

What else?

She couldn’t even sit up. She had to lay here, on that bench. And when he would show up, he would just have to pull open her blouse, he would just have to pull down her pants and panties...would have to push her legs apart, would....

“Stop!”

The young woman screamed those words out aloud. She did not care whether anyone would here her. What difference did it make? None...none at all. She was his piece of meat, his victim, his prey...easy for him to fuck!

Her chest was moving heavily and she felt a fine layer of sweat on her forehead...no, all over her body. She felt fear climbing up, crawling all over her skin, into her brain. There was nothing she could do. Nothing she...would do...

And then the young woman with short hair and the radiation of superiority did not feel so superior anymore. She did not mind her expensive clothing, she did not mind her heritage... all she wanted, was to get away from this place.

Footsteps... the echo of heavy boots thundered through the old cellar and that old building, covered in dusk and evil.

Thundering feet, thundering boots, thundering... and the man came closer. And all of a sudden Stephanie could hear muffled screams from her left and her right. Whining, crying, screams for help from those other victims in those other cells. How often had that man raped those girls? How often? One time? Two times... like herself...

Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, you are about to witness the second rape of our superior Stephanie from a superior family. The second rape, the second fuck, the second humiliation. Now, now, now...

Stephanie’s heart was pounding heavily in her chest as the sound of closing footsteps filled the air.

He was close now...

A new sound...noise... like he was running something over the metal doors of those makeshift cells.

“Hello Pussies...hello. hello Ladies...time to stick a huge cock into your longing openings!”

Stephanie pressed her lips together while tears were running down the sides of her face. She was shaking; fear held her firmly in its grasp.

Closer...

He had to be only inches away from her cell.

God...please make him pass...please...not me.

Forgotten were all those heroic feelings, all those good deeds she wanted to commit...only fear was left. Unspeakable fear to get fucked again...to loose her life if she did not do what he wanted her to do. The fear of doing it without any fight. She would be so disgusting...so low...

A lock was opened. One lock to one cell. One cell...her cell.

“NO!”

The metal door was opened and it wasn’t him.

A huge shadow was standing in the doorway, looking down on her. He was breathing heavily under worn out, torn cloth, swinging slightly from side to side. Stephanie looked up at him and her heart stopped beating for an instant.

This man, this creature was tall, was broad and muscular. This man most certainly wasn’t the junkie, the thin man who had raped her a year ago. This man...stepping closer, stepping into the dim light was...was an Indian, native American...what ever. This man bent down and the shaking young woman could make out the scars all over his face, could see his long, black and dirty hair, could smell him.

And this smell made her stomach turn and twist. It robbed her of her breath, forced water into her eyes.

“What have we here?”

She knew this question was purely rhetorical, but...anyway, Stephanie could not have answered his question even if it wasn’t mend to be rhetorical. She was firmly in fears grip. Her whole body was numb, and at the same time shaking with the primal urge to flee.

The dark man, the Indian, the shadow did something like a smile while his right hand moved closer and then... then he took her face into his rough hand, and there was nothing she could do. She simply could not move...

The Indian pressed her cheekbone slightly, tried to caress her face.

“Another young woman...another...,” and then his face distorted into a mask of brutality, into something inhuman, without any compassion. He let go of Stephanie’s face and...and...and his fingers took hold of the young woman’s left breast.

“Nooo...,” she screamed out the sharp pain that shot throughout her slim and shaking body. The Indian started pressing the breast; he started massaging it with shear brutality. His finger were pressing the firm flesh, his thump was rubbing over the nipple, and in this very moment Stephanie would have given everything for a bra. Why hadn’t she put one on? Why had she been so careless...?

But she could not think clearly now, since the Indian kept on pressing and knitting and massaging her left breast. She was entirely sure, that later on there would be dark spots appearing all over the breast.

“It feels really good, bitch. Really good...,” he grinned down on her while he sat on the edge of the bench, still massaging the hurting breast that still was covered by the extreme expensive silk of her blouse.

After a while of silence on his part, after a while of painful whining on her part, after a while where he kept on pressing the breast, the Indian suddenly withdrew his hand. Through her tears Stephanie could see him breathing heavily when he got up from the bench. He looked down on the young woman and she had the feeling that he was thinking about how he would continue treating her.

“I am going to fuck you, you know!?”

She simply looked at him.

Of course she knew that he would rape her. Of course she knew that her biggest mistake since that one night in the mall would now pay off. Of course the young woman knew that this creature would rape her...rape her...