Rape Board - Free rape pictures and videos - View Single Post

Cedar · 05-10-2009, 12:27 PM

PART ONE

My boss Susan and I always got along OK, I guess. She’s about 35 and in pretty good shape. Since her divorce a couple of years ago (just before I was hired right out of accounting school, the youngest employee in her group and the only man) she’s gotten involved with some fundamentalist church and even once tried to talk me and a couple of other employees into going with her to an anti-abortion protest over the weekend, but when it was clear nobody was interested, she backed off. She still has a lot of religious stuff on her office walls, but she’s not pushy about it. I find her attractive and I’ve even had occasional fantasies about her, but in reality a guy like me would never have a chance with her, and I knew it.

Anyway, this one Thursday I had to work really late, and when I was finished the bus that goes by our building had just gone and it would be half an hour until the next one. Susan offered to drive me home. My apartment is just off the highway to the suburb she lives in, so it wouldn’t be far out of her way.

It was dark when we arrived. My apartment is at the end of the row and its entrance faces a different way than the others, and Susan pulled up close to drop me off, even though it meant her car was in an awkward position where she’d have to go back and forth two or three times to drive away.

It was so dark I didn’t immediately register the fact that the door to the unit next to mine, which has been vacant for months, was ajar. I got out of the passenger side of Susan’s car and turned to slam the door.

What followed was a blur. A figure sprang from behind a nearby bush and grabbed me around the throat from behind, pulling me back away from the car door. A pale, scrawny hand brandished a gun in front of my face so I could see what it was, then I felt the business end of it grind harshly against the side of my head.

I froze in terror. Inside the car, Susan’s hands were clapped over her mouth in shock.

“You!” rasped the man’s voice past my ear. “Out of the car!” If the guy meant to rob us, Susan’s neat, well-tailored skirt suit would have made her look a more promising target than my own threadbare work clothes. Even if the car hadn’t been so awkwardly placed, he could have shot her much faster than she could have driven away. She gulped, turned off the engine, and got out closing the door.

He must have broken into the other place to rob it and found it empty, I realized. Then he heard the car coming.....

“Come here, bitch!” The man summoned. His voice sounded raw, like he had a sore throat. I suddenly realized he smelled bad, a mix of body odor and something I couldn’t identify. As Susan approached he spun me around and gave me a shove toward the door of my apartment. “Inside, both of you!”

He brandished the gun at Susan and she stumbled ahead of me. I fumbled for my keys, reached past her and unlocked the door. The man shoved both of us inside and closed the door behind us. After a second he found the light switch.

Bizarrely, my first impulse was embarrassment at Susan seeing my dusty apartment, the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, the Star Trek and Cindy Crawford posters, the unmade bed half-visible through the open door to the bedroom. Then I got my first good look at our captor.

He was a tall guy and had probably once been powerfully built, but now he looked wasted and sickly. His skin was unnaturally pale, and blotchy. His T-shirt was dirty and stained, his jeans had holes in them, his hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in a week, and the bristles covering his china and sunken cheeks suggested he hadn’t shaved in at least as long. But he was bright-eyed and alert, and he had the gun.

Junkie, I figured. Probably desperate for money for drugs -- even now he was looking through Susan’s purse (which he must have snatched as we came in) while keeping an eye on us. But why hadn’t he just stolen what we had out there, taken the car and left? Did he think I had valuables here inside the apartment?

He smiled -- he must have seen money in the purse. “Your wallet,” he snapped at me. I handed it over. I didn’t have much, but he wanted it all.

05-10-2009, 12:27 PM	#1
Cedar Privileged Member Join Date: Aug 2008 Location: USA Posts: 226 Reputation: 5732	Forced to force the boss PART ONE My boss Susan and I always got along OK, I guess. She’s about 35 and in pretty good shape. Since her divorce a couple of years ago (just before I was hired right out of accounting school, the youngest employee in her group and the only man) she’s gotten involved with some fundamentalist church and even once tried to talk me and a couple of other employees into going with her to an anti-abortion protest over the weekend, but when it was clear nobody was interested, she backed off. She still has a lot of religious stuff on her office walls, but she’s not pushy about it. I find her attractive and I’ve even had occasional fantasies about her, but in reality a guy like me would never have a chance with her, and I knew it. Anyway, this one Thursday I had to work really late, and when I was finished the bus that goes by our building had just gone and it would be half an hour until the next one. Susan offered to drive me home. My apartment is just off the highway to the suburb she lives in, so it wouldn’t be far out of her way. It was dark when we arrived. My apartment is at the end of the row and its entrance faces a different way than the others, and Susan pulled up close to drop me off, even though it meant her car was in an awkward position where she’d have to go back and forth two or three times to drive away. It was so dark I didn’t immediately register the fact that the door to the unit next to mine, which has been vacant for months, was ajar. I got out of the passenger side of Susan’s car and turned to slam the door. What followed was a blur. A figure sprang from behind a nearby bush and grabbed me around the throat from behind, pulling me back away from the car door. A pale, scrawny hand brandished a gun in front of my face so I could see what it was, then I felt the business end of it grind harshly against the side of my head. I froze in terror. Inside the car, Susan’s hands were clapped over her mouth in shock. “You!” rasped the man’s voice past my ear. “Out of the car!” If the guy meant to rob us, Susan’s neat, well-tailored skirt suit would have made her look a more promising target than my own threadbare work clothes. Even if the car hadn’t been so awkwardly placed, he could have shot her much faster than she could have driven away. She gulped, turned off the engine, and got out closing the door. He must have broken into the other place to rob it and found it empty, I realized. Then he heard the car coming..... “Come here, bitch!” The man summoned. His voice sounded raw, like he had a sore throat. I suddenly realized he smelled bad, a mix of body odor and something I couldn’t identify. As Susan approached he spun me around and gave me a shove toward the door of my apartment. “Inside, both of you!” He brandished the gun at Susan and she stumbled ahead of me. I fumbled for my keys, reached past her and unlocked the door. The man shoved both of us inside and closed the door behind us. After a second he found the light switch. Bizarrely, my first impulse was embarrassment at Susan seeing my dusty apartment, the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, the Star Trek and Cindy Crawford posters, the unmade bed half-visible through the open door to the bedroom. Then I got my first good look at our captor. He was a tall guy and had probably once been powerfully built, but now he looked wasted and sickly. His skin was unnaturally pale, and blotchy. His T-shirt was dirty and stained, his jeans had holes in them, his hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in a week, and the bristles covering his china and sunken cheeks suggested he hadn’t shaved in at least as long. But he was bright-eyed and alert, and he had the gun. Junkie, I figured. Probably desperate for money for drugs -- even now he was looking through Susan’s purse (which he must have snatched as we came in) while keeping an eye on us. But why hadn’t he just stolen what we had out there, taken the car and left? Did he think I had valuables here inside the apartment? He smiled -- he must have seen money in the purse. “Your wallet,” he snapped at me. I handed it over. I didn’t have much, but he wanted it all. __________________ Coito ergo sum Last edited by Cedar; 05-10-2009 at 01:51 PM.