Friday, 18 October 2013

ALONE IN THE GARAGE

"Finally," Brenda sighed. Another late night at the 
office was behind her. And the project was finished. 
She was relieved, and happy to go home. She'd sleep in 
a little tomorrow, to celebrate. She glanced at the 
clock. 12:30 AM. How did it get so late? She picked up 
the phone and called her husband.

"Hi, babe," came his sleepy response.

"I'm done. On my way home."

"Oh, good. Wow, look at the time. Be careful, I worry 
about you out by yourself so late."

"I'm fine, John," she replied. "I only have to go to 
the garage and get my car."

"I know, but you never know. Just keep an eye out."

"Okay, promise. See you soon. Love you!"

"Love you, too," said John, and hung up.

Brenda dropped her phone in her purse and walked out 
of the office, locking it behind her. The building was 
mostly dark, with a few lights on to make the halls 
navigable. She rode the elevator to the lobby. The 
night guard was apparently on his rounds.

Stepping out in the street, the Venezuelan humidity 
slammed her in the face. A sheen of sweat sprang up 
almost immediately. What did we do before air 
conditioning? She wondered. The garage was just across 
the street. Brenda was thankful for that. She usually 
wore heels to the office because she felt more dressed 
that way. The short dress was for comfort, so much 
cooler in the heat than any kind of pants.

There was of course no traffic.

Crossing the street, she considered the elevator. She 
usually took the stairs, just for the exercise. She 
also didn't trust this elevator, it having gotten 
stuck with her in it before. It was late. No telling 
how long it would be for any help to arrive if she got 
stuck again. The stairs it is.

Her car was on the third floor. Not a long climb, and 
easy for her. She was very fit, and worked out 
regularly. She was glad no one was behind her though.

Her car was the only one on the floor. She was so 
tired, and looking forward to getting home. Maybe that 
was why she didn't hear anything. She was about to 
unlock her car when a hand covered her mouth from 
behind. Something sharp pressed against her throat. 
"Don't scream. Don't fight," hissed a man's voice.

Brenda froze. Oh my gawd!

The man pulled her wrists behind her back, uncovering 
her mouth.

"You bastard," she snarled, "leave me alone!"

Her hair was yanked hard, and the man showed her the 
big knife he held. "I'm telling you, if you utter 
another word, I will carve you up! I will make you so 
hideous no one will ever look at you again." He gave 
her hair another painful yank. Then she felt something 
wrapped around her wrists, tying them behind her.

She heard a tearing sound. Then silver duct tape went 
over her mouth. The man stayed carefully behind her.

Then he was forcing her to lean over the hood of her 
car.

"What a hot piece you are. My lucky day," he growled 
again. Her purse was set on the hood next to her head. 
The man was rifling her purse. He looked at her 
Driver's License. "Oh, that's a nice neighborhood," he 
whispered maliciously. "I may have to come visit some 
time." 

Damnit, he knows where I live now!

"Oh, who's this?" He was looking through her phone 
now. "Hubby? What a shame if I had to pay him a visit. 
You wouldn't want anything to happen to him, now would 
you?" He dropped the phone back in her purse.

He placed the knife on the hood, in front of her face. 
He yanked her head back by the hair and growled in her 
ear, "Now listen. This is how it's going to be. I am 
gonna fuck that fine ass of yours. I am gonna enjoy 
it. And you are gonna keep quiet. You won't tell 
anyone. If you do, I know where you live. Accidents 
happen to people all the time. Understand?'

Brenda's eyes were full of tears now. There was 
nothing she could do. Sobbing, she nodded once.

"Aren't you a good little slut."

The man was leaning on her, making her bend completely 
over the hood of her car. She felt him lift her skirt. 
This CANNOT be happening!

It was terrifying to be so helpless.

She heard him fumbling with his belt, dropping his 
pants.

Then she felt him pulling on her panties. She saw him 
pick up the knife, and then her panties were cut. 
Brenda wanted to struggle, but knew it was useless. 
There was no one to help. The place was deserted. She 
didn't even think there were security cameras. She was 
at the mercy of a merciless thug.

Rough fingers started probing her sex. She wanted to 
die.

"Mmmm, what a sexy box you got, whore. I bet you get 
fucked a lot, don't you?"

He continued to probe, and Brenda did her best to be 
still.

He yanked her hair, "Hey, slut. I asked you a 
question! I BET YOU GET FUCKED A LOT. DON'T YOU?"

Brenda nodded, thinking that's what she needed to do. 
"I knew it. I bet you fuck forty bums a week, you 
worthless slut."

It was totally humiliating, being degraded like this.

The fingers were still probing. Damnit just fuck me 
and get it over with!

He was caressing her clit now. Brenda tried to ignore 
it. Tried to go elsewhere in her mind. Let this be 
over. Let it be someone else it's happening too.

He continued on her clit. And she felt herself 
moistening. NO!

But there was no doubt about it. His playing with her 
clit was drawing a response from her body, regardless 
of her true desires. And now realizing it was 
happening, she couldn't take her mind off the finger 
on her clit.

She felt him slip a finger in her. Easily. She was 
already very wet.

She tried to suppress a shudder. She tried to tell 
herself that it was a shudder of revulsion. The shiver 
up her spine denied her that lie. She didn't want it 
to feel good.

The finger was sliding in and out of her, curling 
forward, rubbing her G spot. She was getting wetter by 
the moment. She concentrated hard on not moaning. The 
harder she tried not to, the more she felt what that 
finger was doing.

"MMmmmmmmm," finally escaped from her.

"Whore," the man hissed. "Fucking cheap whore in fancy 
clothes with a fancy car. I knew what you were the 
minute I spotted you."

She whimpered. She wanted not to feel what she was 
feeling. But every degradation, every insult, was 
arousing her. She tried to deny it. I can't be turned 
on by this! Oh, fuck!

She wished the thug would just rape her. She didn't 
want him playing with her. Yet he continued his play.

His finger, now drenched and slippery from her juice, 
slipped out of her pussy. He began rubbing up toward 
her asshole. She shivered.

"In the ass, huh? That's where you want it, right? In 
the ass? Whore?"

He pulled her hair again. Brenda nodded, knowing more 
abuse would be coming if she didn't agree.

"I thought so. Whores love it in their ass."

She heard him spitting. And then the finger was 
probing her ass. Slowly entering her. She moaned. I 
hate this! I don't want it! But it was no use. Her 
body was betraying her. 

The finger withdrew, and was replaced by what she knew 
was his cockhead. 

Ohfuckohfuckohfuck!

It started pressing, relentlessly, into her, trying to 
squeeze past her clenched sphincter.

And she pressed back. Despite her horror, her body now 
desired it. She pressed back on his cockhead. Her 
sphincter finally relaxed, and it popped in her. She 
would have screamed but for the tape over her mouth. 
He started pumping in her, deeper each thrust. And she 
rocked back to meet each thrust. His hands were now on 
her hips, as he drove himself into her ass.

"That's it, slut. Fuck me back. God, you're a whore. 
Just a cheap cum dump." He slapped her ass hard, 
stinging her, making her moan through her taped mouth.

Brenda's tears were flowing. Betrayed by her body. 
Betrayed by her lustful nature. She felt most of all 
that she betrayed John Her rapist had nothing to fear. 
She could never tell John. She would not be able to 
hide from him that she became aroused. That she – oh 
my gawd I'm going to cum!

Her body started shuddering, and then the waves of an 
intense orgasm shook her to her core. Her pussy was 
running a river of her cum down her legs, while the 
animal with his cock in her ass laughed at her.

"Fucking whore, I knew you'd love this the minute I 
laid eyes on you. You got that look, fucking tramp."

As the waves subsided, Brenda could feel nothing but 
shame. No, no one would ever hear of this.

Yet he was still ass raping her, and her pussy still 
tingled. She wished she had a hand free. To rub her 
clit. No! No I don't! But there was no denying it. She 
wanted to rub her clit. So badly.

The thug was breathing hard now. She sensed he was 
getting close, and the thought that he would soon be 
flooding her ass with his cum caused her to moan 
again, and then she was cumming harder than the first 
one.

She could feel her pussy clenching, her ass clenching, 
gripping his cock. He was too close apparently to 
degrade her for cumming again. And then in just a 
moment he slammed into her deeply, holding in her, and 
she knew he was shooting his load in her. She moaned 
again at the thought.

And then he pulled out. He showed her the knife again. 
"I'm going to cut you loose. You are not going to 
move. You will count to 1000, and then you can take 
that tape off. You won't tell anyone. You know what 
will happen if you do. Understand?"

Brenda nodded again. And she meant it.

He cut the bindings on her wrists. She stayed very 
still. She heard him buckle his pants. Then he gave 
her ass another slap, and muttered, "I may want that 
again. I'll be watching." And then he walked off. She 
heard his footsteps recede, and then he was going down 
the stairs.

Brenda lay across the hood of her car a very long 
time. Ashamed. Deeply ashamed. She couldn't admit that 
it was the most she'd ever been aroused in her life.

She quietly pulled the tape from her mouth, not 
noticing the pain.

Cum was running from her ass now. She stood, and 
pulled off her ruined panties. She cleaned herself as 
best she could, and stuffed them in her purse. The 
drive home was long and lonely, leaving her to her 
thoughts.

John met her at the door. He immediately sensed 
something was wrong. "Hey, love, you look terrible!"

"It's just stress," she lied. "And the long nights. 
It's all finished now, though. It'll be better." She 
gave him a weak smile, hoping he couldn't read the 
lie. "I just need a hot shower and bed, OK?"

"Sure babe," he said, giving her a hug. She almost 
shuddered at his touch. She didn't know why. Was it 
shame? Was she still aroused?

She made her way to the bathroom and closed the door. 
She stripped, and then pulled her panties from her 
purse. She hid the mess in the hamper, and climbed 
into the shower. She scrubbed herself raw, trying to 
remove the stain, but at the same time remembering. 
The water was beginning to run cold as she finished, 
she'd been so long at it. 

Wrapping a towel around her, she found John in bed, 
waiting for her. She crawled in with him, naked, and 
snuggled to him. She needed John, needed his touch, 
needed to reaffirm her love, her physical love, to 
him. Soon she was giving him a loving blowjob, 
repeating to herself as she sucked and licked and 
fondled that John's was the only cock that pleased 
her.

She sucked him until he came in her mouth. She sucked 
and swallowed every drop, seeking absolution from him. 
Making penance. She fell asleep curled up to him.

John lay holding his beautiful wife. Her back was too 
him now, and he stroked her long brown hair, caressed 
her hip. When her breathing was slow and deep, he 
slipped quietly from the bed, and went to the 
computer.

John checked his private email. It was there. He 
clicked the return, authorizing the payment. Then he 
clicked on the attachment. The video came up, and with 
it, John's cock hardened instantly. "Don't scream. 
Don't fight," hissed a man's voice.

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