"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.