Chapter 1
Her
P resent Day
Why are clubs always so annoyingly loud?
How are you supposed to meet anyone when you can’t even hear yourself think?
“Hey there, sweetheart,” a baritone voice whispers in my ear.
Um, personal fucking space!
Do I say that out loud? Of course not.
Stepping back from his Cheeto breath, I angle my body away from him.
“Hello.” I try to be polite and not let my annoyance show. Some men can’t take outright rejection. Their fragile egos still need to be stroked when you turn them down.
“Would you like to dance?” he asks. A brilliant white-toothed smile etched on his face.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I try not to choke on his cologne as I internally groan.
“I was actually heading out, but thank you.” There that should do it—cordial but firm.
He gives me one more smile, then moves just enough so I can pass, but my body still has to touch his.
Rolling my eyes, I make my way to the door. I wasn’t lying when I said I was leaving. I’m over this night. I met up with my girlfriends, but I can only take so much of this scene.
I made my appearance, and now I’m going home to take the Spanx and the bra off. I can already feel my body sigh in relief at the prospect of no longer being wrapped and tied.
I’m halfway down the street when I’m yanked by my arm into a darkened alleyway. For fucks sake!
“You really should’ve just danced with me,” the fucktard from earlier with halitosis growls in my ear, and I do mean growls. I want to laugh, but the seriousness of the situation isn’t lost on me.
Before I can get my bearings, he grabs me by my throat, slamming my body against the brick building of a very closed business.
Reaching up, I sink my nails into his forearm, clawing at the hand gripping my throat.
His hold tightens, squeezing until the air no longer freely flows. Spots begin to dance in my vision before loosening his hold just enough for me to gasp in a small amount of air.
“I wanted to try the other way, but it never works. No matter how many times I give you bitches a try. You always fail the fucking test—proving my way is the only way,” he spouts, his vitriol ever present as he slams me against the wall, repeatedly knocking my head and scrambling my senses with each blow.
I’m not completely out of it, but my fight dwindles enough for him to throw me over his shoulder and trek deeper into the alley, slipping into the back entryway of a building.
He opens a door, flicking on a light before throwing me down so hard that my body bounces off a mattress.
“It doesn’t matter how many women I encounter. You’re all the same. So stuck-up, thinking you’re high and mighty because you have a pretty face with nice tits and ass,” He mumbles, climbing on top of me.
“But in here. I get to remind you of your place—on your back or your knees. That’s all the fuck you’re good for,” he continues, ripping my dress, cutting away my spanks before pulling my bra down. This is not what I had in mind when I was thinking of letting the girls go fucking free.
He fondle my breasts, kneading them and plucking my nipples until they’re hard. Pleased with my body’s reaction, he lowers his head, enveloping a the erect peak with his mouth while pinching the other.
I jolt at the feeling of his teeth against my bud and he momentarily stops his assault.
Lifting his gaze to mine—a smary smile plastered on his face.
“You like that, don’t you? You dirty bitch. You bitches always do. You play hard to get, but when I get you here, your bodies always sing under my touch,” he states like a proud peacock.
Finally beginning to feel like my body can move, I lift my arm and take aim, but before I can even attempt my swing, he backhands me across my face twice.
My visions blurs as here continues is diatribe about his disdain for the female existence.
“You broads always try that shit too.”
He mumble more incohernet gripes while undresses me. The smack from earlier still has me seeing double. I can feel him but I can’t really make him out.
“Look at that fat, pretty pussy. I bet you’re nice and pink inside,” he rasps, not waiting for a response. Instead, he reaches up, spreading my lips open and groaning at the sight. “Shit. What a fucking sight you are.”
He slips his fingers down, rubbing hard on my clit in haphazard circles before jamming two fingers in my unprepared walls.
I wince at the intrusion.
“Please don’t,” I beg— my pleas ignored as he pulls his finger out and slaps me across my face again.
“Shut up. You had your chance,” he yells.
The sound of a zipper begs me to react, but I’m still disoriented.
I peer up at my soon-to-be rapist. He’s handsome in the traditional way, tall, with dirty blond hair, green eyes, and very well built. This man shouldn’t have a problem in the world picking up women, especially if he kept his trap shut.
He pulls out his dick, and it’s even a relatively decent size.
I watch as he sheaths himself in a condom. At least he’s a responsible rapist .
For fuck’s sake! Seriously? I question my sanity. My twisted commentary is so detached—devoid of any real emotion.
Caring less about the war happening in my head, he wastes no time slamming into me, bucking like a wild foal.
Ahh, now it makes sense. He can’t fuck his way out of a hand job.
Seeing that I’m not going to get my rocks, I reach up, yanking my Viking-style metal hair sticks from their bun, and plunge both into the sides of his neck.
His eyes bulge as a gasp leaves his lips, but it’s too late.
“That’s right, Robert. I’ll be your last victim, you weak dick laying fuck,” I taunt.
“Next time, know who you’re hunting or risk becoming the hunted,” I smack his cheek as he falls on top of me.
Grunting, I mumble, “Well, maybe not next time for you.”
I cackle at myself before I push the stupid fuck off of me.
Now I can go home and take all this shit off.