Carried Away

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This is a short experiment with non-consensual sex and a protagonist that you probably won't like - please don't read it if that might offend you.

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It happened one summer evening in the eighties. I was a student, living in a big shared house in a poor suburb. I must have been about twenty. The others were away on holiday, or had gone back home to stay with their families. I visited my mother occasionally, but we didn't get on well and I could only stay for a couple of days at a time. Summers were a lonely time. I think I had recently broken up with a girlfriend. In any case, I was single. So I stayed in my student house, working behind the bar in a hotel, taking as many shifts as I could.

I came home from work one night and witnessed a terrible scene in the house next door. You could see into their kitchen from my bedroom window. As I took off my work shirt, I looked down and saw a man standing behind a woman, holding her bent over the table, one hand on her head and the other on her hip. They were both nude from the waist down and his body banged into hers with short hard thrusts. She was struggling, kicking her legs and trying to push his hands off her, but she was trapped.

I recognised them as my neighbours. I had seen them lots of times in the street and often said hi. They seemed like a happy young couple. I stood staring, and after a few minutes he pushed deeper and faster, and then stopped moving and just held her down. When he let her go and started putting his trousers on, she stayed bent over the table, her small naked bum facing me. He left the room and I heard him close their front door as he left, and she slipped off the table and curled up on the floor.

I knew I had to go round and try to help. She didn't answer the doorbell and I kept ringing. Eventually she opened the door a crack, leaving the chain on.

'It's Chris. I live next door,' I said, with my best reassuring voice.

'Oh. Uh, it's not a good time. Sorry.' She sounded surprisingly calm.

'Can I talk to you, just for a minute?'

She peeked round the door.

'Chris, was it? Chris, I'm sorry, but I'm here by myself. It's late. Can you come back tomorrow?'

'I saw what just happened,' I said. 'In the kitchen. I can see through the window from my house. I was worried. Are you OK?' She was quiet for a few moments.

'It was nothing,' she said, still calm, 'I'm fine.'

'Look, please let me in. I just want to check you're OK. I'll only stay for a few minutes.' There was another silence, and then I heard the chain rattle and unlock. She opened the door. She was small and thin, perhaps a little over five foot, with long thick blond hair tied in a high ponytail. She was wearing pyjamas.

'OK then. Come in. I'll make you a cup of tea. Let's clear this up,' she said, and showed me into the lounge, then disappeared for a few minutes.

She seemed less assured when she came back with the tea. It didn't take much to get her talking. She said her boyfriend sometimes treated her badly after a hard day. Apparently he had been married before, and his ex-wife wouldn't let him see their children.

'He's having a hard time,' she explained. She sounded sympathetic, which I couldn't understand. I wanted to call the police, but she wouldn't have it, saying that it would make the situation worse. It seemed ridiculous. We talked more about her. Her name was either Cassie or Kathy, I can't remember which. She worked in a hotel too, as a chambermaid, and said she wanted to go to university and become a social worker. She asked me about university life. I was surprised that she had become so chatty. She talked about her relationship, and how her boyfriend had romanced her by taking her for rides on his motorbike.

'Why do you let him do it?' I cut in. She stopped talking and looked at the carpet. Her profile was delicate. 'You have to stand up for yourself.' She didn't say anything. She was on the sofa next to me, with bare feet and her legs tucked underneath her. 'What I saw wasn't acceptable,' I continued. She glanced up at me.

'You're pretty,' I told her. 'You know that, don't you?' I couldn't understand why she put up with him.

'Thanks. That's sweet of you,' she said. 'You should go now. I'm OK. I promise.' I didn't want to go. I wanted to get to the bottom of it.

'You're pretty and you should be with someone better,' I said, looking right at her. She turned away again. It didn't make sense that she would be with an abusive man when she could be with someone like me who would treat her well. I told her to look at me, and when she didn't, I told her she was being silly and should listen to me. It was simple, the man was a prick, and she should come back with me and forget about him.

'Please go, now,' she said. I was next to her, and could smell her perfume.

I leant closer, so my nose was almost touching her cheek, but she didn't move. When I put my hand on her thigh, she ducked her head, away from my kiss, and pushed my hand off her. I lost my temper then, and called her some things that weren't fair. She was a nice girl, even if she was acting stupid. When I finished shouting, I was gripping her wrists.

'OK,' she said. 'OK. We can do it. As long as you leave straight away when we're done. OK? We'll do it and then you'll go.' I realised that I had gone too far, but I was caught up in the moment, and when she stood up and starting taking off her pyjama trousers, I wanted to touch her more than anything. I was sitting down with her in front of me, and I put my hands behind her, on her bum, and pulled her closer to me, leaning my head against her tummy and touching her cunt through her panties. She had a blue bruise on the side of her thigh, which she asked me to avoid I ran my hands over her legs.

She stepped out of her panties and lay down on the sofa. I undid my belt and trousers and got on top of her. She lay still, and let me kiss her neck and cheeks. I pressed my erection against her, trying to find the right place. She was so beautiful. She adjusted her position, raising her knees, and I slipped into her. She was wet from her boyfriend, but tight and soft. I put my hand under her top and held her thin waist, and fucked her.

I was sorry afterwards. I knew that it shouldn't have happened like that. I apologised. She told me it was OK so long as it didn't happen again and her boyfriend didn't find out. We carried on saying hello to each other when we met in the street, but I didn't go round again, and from then on their curtains were shut when they were both at home.