Cara liked to take a run every morning, right after the sun came up, and when the fog was still lingering over the earth and no one else around. It gave her great pleasure, to be out alone in the usually busy world, alone with the cold air around her. Her headphones played Beethoven, feet padding on the path next to the street. Her dark brown hair was tied in a ponytail that hung slightly past her shoulders, swaying with each step. Her breasts bounced within the sports bra with each step.
The air was a little cooler this morning; perhaps it was her imagination, a sort of sixth sense saying that something was out of sync in her world. Or it could be that winter was approaching, the leaves starting to fall off of the trees, the sun starting to come up a little later in the day. Although running, Cara's cheeks were chilly. Pink and flushed, but chilly nonetheless. If this were a premonition, it would prove to be accurate, because as she was rounding a turn on the path a man dressed all in black suddenly popped into her vision. Cara was startled, and didn't know how exactly to react, her body did multiple things at once, somehow seeming to start and to keep going at the same pace. It ended up as a little jump to the side, her arms stopped their rhythmic movement for just a couple swings and she kept running forward, though this time in a panicked run rather than leisurely.
Behind her now, the man in black turned and started running after her. He didn't have the running experience she had, but he could still sprint as quickly as anyone, and his muscular legs helped give him an extra start as he bounded after his prey. Closer to her, just a few steps now, he took one leap and tackled her to the ground, landing heavily on top of her soft body. Before she could scream in surprise and fright, he cupped his hand over her mouth, and out of one of his pockets he grabbed a pair of handcuffs. It took little strength to roll Cara on to her stomach. He shoved her face into the dirt with one hand, muffling her screams, as he grabbed her arms with his free hand and somehow managed to shackle the flailing wrists together.
Cara felt a sharp prick at her throat, and realized that he was holding a knife.
"Now be quiet," he said, "Or else you'll never make another sound ever again."
She whimpered into the ground, trying to nod her head in understanding. The man eased his weight off her small body and pulled her to her feet by the arm. His fingers dug into her skin through her sweatshirt, and the knife poked at her throat as he maneuvered her into the woody area next to the path.
They walked a distance into the park, until the street was no longer visible through the trees. Cara's eyes began to tear, she thought he was probably going to rape her, and then kill her.
The man pushed Cara's back against a tree, holding her there with his hand on her chest while he felt through his pocket for the handcuff key. With a firm grip on her wrists, he pulled her hands behind the trunk and secured them there.
Cara stood quivering in front of him, looking into his face with a defiance she didn't feel. She saw an older man, probably in his late fifties, with pepper colored hair and hard features. He had a thick graying moustache on his upper lip, which curved up when he smiled lightly at her.
"There, there," the man said softly, reaching up to caress her face. She twisted away from him, and he caught her chin in his hand, rubbing her captured cheeks. "I'm not going to hurt you as long as you cooperate."
Cara tried to force herself to relax, to accept the inevitable. She allowed her body to become slack. She feared the almost imminent rape, but at the same time felt a little excited at being in the power of this man.
Fantasies that Cara had had in the past had included play-rape. A couple of former boyfriend's had done it with her, but her husband didn't like the idea. She had tried to push the fantasy out of her mind, but still thought about it from time to time. But this was real rape, why would this be turning her on? She looked at the man's body, eyes taking in his well-formed chest, the black shirt clinging to the muscles in his arms. She thought that he was attractive, and in a normal circumstance she could see herself being interested in him.
"Women fantasize about being raped by men they'd have sex with anyways," said a voice in her head. She had talked to friends about her fetish, and they had agreed that it was a turn on.
And now it was happening.
The man released her face and moved his hands underneath her shirt, pulling the bottom up over her breasts. He pulled the sports bra up as well, the tightness of it pushing her breasts downwards. He smiled at her nipples, which became erect in the cold air, and pinched them lightly with his fingers.
Cara moaned, thrusting her breasts out to his touch. His hands were soft, warm, and her helpless feeling seemed to make them more sensitive than usual. A tight knot formed in the bottom of her stomach, warmth spreading down her body from her nipples straight to her pussy, which she could feel become wet.
The man smiled at her reaction, chuckling softly to himself. He crouched down in front of her, his hands leaving her breasts, and untied the stay at her waist. He pulled the pants down to her ankles, and traced his fingertips up the insides of her legs to her damp slit, where he spread the flesh and began to inspect her.
His warm hands seemed to leave traces of fire along Cara's skin, and she moaned again, thrusting her hips into his waiting hands. The gentle inspection of her mons was driving her wild, especially the tip of his soft finger on her clit.
He stood up and pushed his body against hers, raping her mouth with his in a rough kiss. She felt her lips pressed against his, and the invasion of his tongue into her mouth. Against her thighs she felt the bulge of his cock, and soon he had freed it from the pants, leaving it to rub against her cunt.
The head of his cock tickled her clitoris, making her moan into his mouth, still over her own. She thrust her hips towards his staff, welcoming its penetration as he thrust upwards inside her. She groaned deeply, feeling the head of his cock push way up inside her, filling her completely.
He thrust into her, pushing her nearly bare body against the rough bark of the tree. She didn't even notice the scratching, so involved with the feelings coursing through her loins. He lifted her practically off her feet, her tip toes taking hardly any of her weight on the ground. She tried to bounce herself on his cock, but with her hands behind her and no weight of her own she was forced to let him have her at his own pace.
The fucking didn't last long, he came soon after he had started, grunting into her ears and pushing her violently back in to the tree. He relaxed, holding her in his arms for a few moments before gathering himself and doing his pants back up.
Cara stood, leaning against the tree, gasping for breath. She could feel his cum trickling down her thighs, which she held lewdly open, exposing herself to the cold air. Her nipples were tight, pointing straight towards the man as he ran his hands through his hair and looked at her. She longed for him to touch her clit, and thought that with just a few more strokes she would have her own orgasm. The build up for it had been amazing, and her body was aching with need.
"Sorry," he said, surprisingly apologetic. He shrugged and moved behind her, undoing the handcuffs. He kept hold of her arms and twisted her around, facing the tree, and re-locked them. He placed the key into one of her shackled hands, and took off behind her.
Cara tried to watch him over her shoulder, but it was too hard and soon he was gone.
She twisted her hands around, struggling to unlock the cuffs, and finally succeeding. Once free, she leaned back against the tree, handcuffs dangling from one arm, and began to rub her clit.
The nub reacted, her whole body shaking as her climax took over her muscles, stiffening as the shudders ran from her toes to the tips of her fingers. Satisfied, she pulled up her pants and straightened out her shirt, and headed back for the path.
Cara knew she ought to go to the police; she had been raped, after all. But it had been so enjoyable, she felt guilty. She was ashamed that she had enjoyed the sickening scenario, and chanted to herself that she had been asking for it, anyways. If the man had offered himself to her, she probably would have accepted. And her husband wouldn't like to know that another man, even a rapist, had touched her. She decided to keep quiet about it, and forget that it had ever happened outside of her fantasies.
This story is actually a scene I had planned to use in a much longer piece, but I could never get the urge to write it going again. I have decided to submit it as is, as a scene, even though it is not an original idea, just because maybe someone out there will really enjoy it. I enjoyed writing it and I may continue it some day, just not today.
Thank you for reading! --Chicklet