Note: The following story contains themes of rape and reluctance, turning into eventual pleasure. It is based on fantasy only, and is not to be replicated in real life. If you do not enjoy this fantasy, please navigate away from this story and restrain yourself from leaving bitter remarks in the comments section.
Rayna Matthews adjusted her blazer before entering the bank. Her black pumps echoed on the tile floor, but were soon muffled by an ornate rug in the middle of the floor. People were in line to speak to various bank tellers.
"Can I help you?" asked a smartly dressed man as Rayna entered.
"Yes, I have an appointment with Walter Scott to apply for a business loan," Rayna said, taking in her surroundings.
The man nodded and gestured for her to sit in the chairs pushed against the far wall. Rayna sat and crossed her legs, careful to not let her pink satin underwear show beneath her pencil skirt. Her fingers skated across the plastic folder sitting on her lap, and she absentmindedly drummed out a tune she had heard on the radio as she drove to her appointment. The chair she was sitting in wasn't particularly comfortable, and she wiggled in her seat a little to get comfortable.
The bank was small, but very nice. The tellers stood behind a genuine granite counter. Bankers sat at various mahogany desks, strategically placed so as not to take up too much space, but so bankers and clients were out of earshot of one another. There was a room in the back corner with a keypad, and Rayna could see rows of safety deposit boxes.
"Rayna?" She looked up, the sound of her name startling her from her thoughts. The man, presumably Walter Scott, led her to the desk closest to the door. He was an older man with salt and pepper hair, with a little bit of a gut, but was handsome nonetheless. Rayna thought he must be in his mid fifties, possibly getting ready for early retirement based on his posh suit he wore.
"Did you bring a copy of your business plan and financial documents?" Mr. Scott inquired. Rayna nodded and handed over her folder, complete with charts and graphs of expected startup costs and quarterly earnings. Mr. Scott glanced over the information, nodding his head.
"So what would make your bakery stand out from the half dozen already in town?" He asked, not unkindly. Rayna opened her mouth to answer before she was interrupted by gasps and a gruff voice.
"Everybody put your hands behind your heads, line up on the ground in front of the desk," a tall man with dark hair and bright blue eyes said, gesturing with his gun to the very desk Rayna was sitting at. She obeyed, placing her hands behind her head and sitting on her knees on the cold tile ground.
The man gestured at the tellers, "you too, and don't even think about pressing your panic buttons," he said, ordering the men from behind the granite countertop Rayna had admired earlier. She noticed that she was one of three women in the room, the other two women were older, maybe in their forties.
Other men with guns filed into the bank, and the one who was clearly the ring leader, stopped the final teller walking out from behind the counter. "I want all the cash you have on hand." He pointed to one of his men, "keep a close eye on him," he ordered.
The teller quickly returned from behind the counter with a few wads of cash, unable to look the robber in the eye as he handed it over.
"That's it?" The ringleader asked, clearly agitated. The teller nodded meekly, his voice shaking.
"Yes sir, we don't have access to the safe until after hours. It's on a timer." The 4 bank robbers all looked at each other, the boss clearly trying to contain his anger.
"Can't you override the timer?" he asked, getting more and more agitated by the minute. The teller shook his head.
"It's on a timer for exactly this circumstance." Boss man shoved the teller to the ground and clenched his teeth as he inspected the cash. He glanced around the room for other valuables, until his piercing blue eyes landed on Rayna.
