After the bar (Warning: R-Rated Material NOT for younger readers)
He zipped up his pants and turned off the TV. As the naked couple faded away he took a final sip from his beer can and threw it against the wall. He did not want to be a mere spectator tonight. He wanted to be a participant. That was why he went to the bar. As he stood up to stumble toward his bed, he looks at the pile of cans that has accumulated in the corner over the course of the night. That is why he bought her so many drinks. Her. There mere thought brought his drunken fury to a climax. She had to have wanted it too. The way she dressed, how she batted her eyes at him. The little whore. You don't just let a guy buy you drink after drink if you don't plan on returning the favour. Apparently she thought it was OK. After he walked her home she had merely said goodnight and gave him a hug. A hug! Of all the low down dirty things to do to him. This bitch had the audacity to merely give him a hug. It came to him. She fed him the bullshit excuse that she had an early meeting at her work. A meeting. A likely excuse. Who works on a Saturday? Not he. He turned to the VCR to put the tape away. He was tired of being a spectator. Ever since the divorce all he had ever been was a spectator. An observer. No more. Tonight, he would be a participant. He took his keys off of the counter, stumbled down the three flights of stairs to the parking garage below his apartment building. After a few minutes of stumbling around he found his car, got in, and drove. He veered left and right over the road until he found her house. He got out of the car and walked up to the door.
The first ring only made her turn over. The second ring of her doorbell made her sit-up in her bed. She looked at the time. 4:36 am. She didn't have to be at work for another hour and a half. Why was she up? Her alarm was set for 6. The third ring of the doorbell answered her question. her head was pounding as the effects of the night had not yet worn off. Who would be coming over at this hour? Why? She threw on a oversized long-sleeve t-shirt she liked to sleep in when it was cool enough, and went to the door.
He heard her footsteps. That's right you bitch. You dirty little whore. You wanted this, and you knew it. You and your little mini-skirt, your excessive amount of makeup. You knew that this was coming from the time when you accepted the first drink I bought you. You planned on this when you told your friends that you would be fine and that they could leave and go home. You know you want this. I know you want this. I know I want this.
As she opened the door he lunged at her. She did not have any time to react as his large hand clamped over her mouth to stifle her scream. What was he doing here? Did I not tell him that I had work. Why is he doing this to me? I said I would call him when I was done with my meeting! No! Where is he taking me? Ouch! He is hurting me!
He looked around and saw her open bedroom door. As he lifted her he felt her upper thigh and realized that she had no underwear on. Her skin was soft against his hand. It took little effort to lift her small, curvaceous body up onto his shoulder. The effort came with keeping her still while still covering her mouth. He laid her down on her bed, and kicked her miniskirt up onto the bed. While he straddled her, he pinned her arms down with his knees and with his free hand and teeth tore the fabric. It took only a second for him to release his hand from her mouth, and when she tried to scream it was only too easy to gag her with the fabric. He easily lifted her head and tied the gag securely in place. Now he was free to explore this woman with both hands as he saw fit. "Don't struggle, it will only make this harder. Why are you crying? You know you wanted this you little whore. If I seen you walking to the club in your little outfit I would have thought you were a prostitute. I would have hired you. You knew how you looked, you knew this would happen. Don't try to fight it."
Her hair was pulled as the knot was tied, and it was sheer bad luck that her hair was tangled in the knot in such a way that no matter which was she nudged it by rubbing her head against the mattress, it resulted in agonizing pain as her hair was pulled from her scalp. Not being able to struggle, all she could do was think. What had made this mange chance from the seeming gently giant she had met in the bar? Had they not had a good time? Why did he think that they were meant to sleep together? Did he not notice that all the other girls wore skirts just as short? Wore tops that showed just as much cleavage? Why her? As she felt his large hands grow first her stomach, then her breasts, she was ashamed that she was starting to become aroused. Despite her terror, she could feel the excitement in her body rise.
Her skin felt even softer than he had imagined on his car ride over. Milky white, it seemed to glow in the single light of the hallway outside the still open bedroom door. Her breasts were firm and at the same time, soft and giving. Her ass was so smooth, so round. He could not bear to wait any longer.
She heard a zipper. She looked up and saw that his pants were down. NO! She felt him inside her. She tried her hardest to resist, but he was so much stronger than her. She hates the feeling. Any trace of passion that she had felt rushed quickly from her body as she becomes more and more violated. She tried to scream, but it as only a muffled gasp. The more she tried to squirm away the faster he moved. She was helpless. As the reality sinks in, she gives up, and lest him have his way. The only thing she can do is cry, and wait for it to be over. Wait for him to finish.
"I'd almost forgotten how good this feels!" he thought to himself. He could not tell which felt better. The feeling that he got from penetrating this woman, or the fact that he was in complete control. She could not leave him like his wife. She could not say 'not now honey, I have a headache' or 'Maybe tomorrow when I am not so tired.' He got what he wanted when he wanted it. He loves being in control. He felt the pressure build in him. He is almost saddened knowing that this wonderful experience is almost over.
She heard him moan, then felt him lie on top of her, exhausted. She was crying even harder now. She felt him get up, heard a zipper, and then felt all the pressure that was on her arms release. He was letting her go. "Is this it? Has he had his way with me and is now going to kill me?" He stood up and looked at her. He sat next to her head, put one hand back over her mouth, and with the other removed the gag with such ease that it made her feel even more worthless that she could not get it off herself. With his hand still covering her mouth, he turns her head toward the clock, which reads 5:58.
"Thank you," he says. "That was wonderful. Feel free to tell whomever you want what happened. My friends as well as yours saw you leave with me at the bar. Nobody will believe you if you tell them that you were not consenting." He chuckled as he admired himself for his genius. Not only had he gotten what he wanted, but he would get away with it to.
The alarm clock began to buzz as he walked out the door. She could not believe what just happened. He was right, she couldn't tell anyone what happened. Nobody would believe her, and besides. She needs to get cleaned up. She needs to be at work soon.