Heather Meets the Vile Gamer Ch. 2

Oh god...why was he doing this? I was thrashing as hard as my bound and painfully impaled body was able to, wondering if this was it....if my life would be over in a few more minutes.

He had shifted position and was lying on top of me now, between my tightly bound and spread limbs while he fucked and choked me. Suddenly his hand snaked underneath me. His fingers soon found my clit and began working it expertly. The sensation--all sensations--seemed intensified as I struggled to breathe. He was playing with me by letting up on the pressure of the rope long enough for me to gasp in a few breaths, then he would tighten it again as he continued to rape me while stimulating my clitoris.

I don't know if it was the terror of impending death, the skill of his fingers, the constant steady thrusts into my tortured bottom, or all things combined: But I was suddenly aware that a violent orgasm was building rapidly. When it hit me, it hit without further warning and it hit hard.

For the most part, Chuck's grip on the rope had loosened considerably, and he seemed to be holding it mostly for show as he concentrated his efforts elsewhere. Then for the second time that night my body stiffened as the jolts hit me. Animal-like cries escaped me and bright lights flashed and exploded behind my closed eyes.

Dimly I could hear him gasp with surprise, then roar as my violated rectum clamped onto his invading cock--as if in revenge. Meanwhile my whole body was shuddering and thrashing with the power of this unexpected climax. I can't even say it was pleasurable, but it was the most intense thing I ever felt. I was assaulted by those violent waves as surely as I was being assaulted by this horrible creep who was causing them.

"AAAgghhhh!!! OH FUCK!!! .....godDAMN!!!" he shouted, then began slamming into my still-spasming hole harder than ever while jerking me back by the rope around my neck. I surely would have screamed again; it hurt so badly, but that was impossible since once again my air was cut off by the ever-tightening rope.

I could tell by his violent, quickening thrusts, groans and curses that his own delayed orgasm was finally about to hit, but those excruciating moments were like a grotesque race. Would he finally cum before I strangled during his throes? Would he remember to release his tighter-than-ever grip on the rope in time when his lust was finally sated? Or was this his intention all along....to take my very life just as he'd taken everything else as he blasted off into my dying body? My fate was totally in his hands. There was nothing I could do.

The edges of my vision were going dark when I felt his body stiffen on top of me, his rampaging tool beginning to jerk inside me. Then, with a loud shout and another five or six violent forward shoves, I finally felt the wetness inside my horribly used ass as he began shooting his third load of the night into my bowels. He was finally spent, and only then did he release the rope, right before pulling out of me.

Once again I gulped huge gasps of air then collapsed, sobbing with relief that he was finished and I was still alive. He rolled off me and lay on his back panting. That and my quiet sobs were the only noises in the room for a very long time. I could feel his eyes on me, but I'd turned my head away from him, my eyes closed. I couldn't look at him anymore. I didn't want to see his face ever again. It sounded like he was about to say something, but didn't. Instead he got up from the bed and soon I heard water running from what must have been the bathroom.

I lay there, still bound, in pain and in shock I think. It seemed that a million different thoughts were flying thru my mind, but none of them would stay with me. Any attempt at coherent thought failed miserably since all thoughts would dissapate like smoke. I couldn't focus. I didn't even know what was going to happen to me next.

I finally opened my eyes when Chuck returned. I still couldn't look at his face, but I saw him well enough to see that he was dressed now, and I took that as a hopeful sign. Maybe this nightmare was really almost over.

He untied me then. I sat up slowly, trying to rub the circulation back into my arms and legs. He stood watching me quietly, then stepped forward and handed my clothes to me. He'd been holding them all along I guess.

"Here, Heather", he said in a quiet voice that sounded nothing like the mean, taunting, cursing animal I'd just spent the evening being abused by. So it's Heather now?, I remember thinking. I wondered what happened to Bitch, Cunt or any number of the charming names he'd referred to me as all night.

"You probably want to go to the bathroom."

I did look up then. I had to see if he looked as different as he sounded. The rage and venom seemed to be missing, but I still didn't trust him.

"Go on....really.....go ahead". he said while standing back, as if to assure me he wouldn't interfere, or that this wasn't a cruel trick.

"You......you're ...." I stuttered, scared to even ask.

"What?"

"You're going to....to let me go now?" There. It was out. I waited for the laughter, the taunts, the namecalling. Stupid Bitch probably the first.

"Yeah", he sighed. "I'll take you back to your car. Whenever you're ready, ok?"

Still eyeing him warily, I snatched my clothes from his outstretched arms and dashed to the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it before he could change his mind and start hitting me or something.

Once alone, I sank to the floor with my back against the wall and just sat there a while, hugging my knees to my chest. I didn't cry. This was the time I needed to pull myself together. I had no idea what time it was. The ordeal had seemed to last for hours and hours. Surely it was close to morning. God...Tom must be frantic with worry, I thought with real pain. I then remembered the watch in my purse. I'd put it in there the other day because the band had broken on it, but the watch itself was still working.. With much trepidation I looked thru my purse till I found it. 11:22 it said. NO WAY!! The movie I'd meant to watch that night wouldn't even be over yet. And even if it was, I remembered telling Tom before I left that I'd probably make a stop at the 24-hour Wal-Mart, and he knew I took forever in there. That should give me enough time to get myself together mentally before I went home and had to face my husband.

Now I needed to concentrate on getting my look back together. I knew I must be a mess, but I still got quite a shock when I stood back up and looked into the mirror. I heard myself moaning with dismay. Oh my god....how was I going to explainthis?My almost deathly-pale face was a canvas of splotches, some of them turning to bruises. My upper lip was swelling at the corner of my mouth, and I could see the dried blood from where it had split. I remembered the hard slaps I'd received when I tried to escape, and I hated Chuck with a new fury. There were marks on my neck from the rope, and the thin cut on my neck had broken open and fresh blood was smeared there. I was already making plans to wear a lot of choker-necklaces and high-necked blouses for the next several days.

Chuck had unfortunately picked that moment to stand outside the door and ask, "Heather? You ok?" He must have heard me when I saw my face.

The hatred I saw in the mirror distorted my face even further. I bit back the "fuck you asshole" that sprung to my lips first. I was still scared to death of him after all, and my mouth had probably gotten me in enough trouble that night, so instead I shot back simply "I'm PEACHY!". Ok, so it came out sounding louder and more sarcastic than I meant for it to....but dammit, ..I'd been hurt by him. Badly.

My sarcasm didn't seem to offend him since I heard him moving further into the room muttering, "Ok...ok. just checking". I turned back to the mirror to survey the damage further. My eyes were puffy and red from crying. That wasn't good. I'm one of those people who can't cry even a little without it ruining my eyes for the rest of the day. I tried to remember which movie I'd said I was seeing that night; it had been wiped from my mind for a while. It came to me then. American Psycho. Shit. It wasn't likely I could convince Tom that this movie was a tear-jerker. Otherwise that problem would be covered. He knew what a baby I was over sad movies. He'd laughed and teased me when I came home with red and puffy eyes after seeing Titanic.

I began to clean myself up as best as I could. I didn't want to take a shower here, although a shower is what I longed for the most. For one thing it would take too long. I wanted out of here and as far away from that bastard outside the door as I could get. I made do with the sink and a wet washrag and tried to scrub as much of his touch and scent from me as I could.

My hair was a matted mess...it had been pulled so many times I wasn't surprised. After combing thru it and applying some makeup, I did look a little better, but I still had these awful bruises to explain. I decided I'd just have to think ofsomething and hope I could be convincing. I didn't even know how I was going to face going home at all. How could I just act like everything was normal when everything was fucked up beyond words?

I couldn't stay in this bathroom all night hiding from Chuck, nor did I want to. I wanted out of there so bad. I just wished I didn't have to be near him anymore. Damn, I thought. I was going to have to get back into his car with him. He said he would take me back to my car, but like I'd said before, I didn't trust him. But what choice did I have really? If I struck out on foot, withmy luck I'd probably be attacked again. He'd chosen a hotel quite a distance from the theater where my car was still parked. At least I hoped it was still there, since I'd been forced out of it with the keys still in the ignition. My eyes closed in a wince as I remembered the paralyzing fear when I first saw him holding his switchblade so casually outside my open car window. I hadn't even realized how bad it would get. Could that really only have been a few hours ago?? It didn't seem possible. I felt a million years older since then.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the bathroom door and walked into the room with my purse on my shoulder--the impatient woman who's ready to go and go now, the gesture said. He looked up at me from the bed where he'd been sitting. I didn't like the look in his eyes as he looked at my freshened-up appearance...I didn't like it a bit. He wasn't exactly looking evil again, just.....hungry.

"Ok...I'm ready...ok?", I mumbled, looking down.

"Come here for a minute.....please?"

I looked at him, trying to control the hatred I'd seen in the mirror earlier. He was patting the space on the bed next to him. Indicating he wanted me to sit by him.

"Come on Heather....we need to talk. Really."

"No we don't!" I blurted too quickly. "I...I don't want to talk to you right now. I just want to go".

"I won't hurt you anymore. Ok? I promise."

Something in how he said that soothed me a little...just a little. Besides, I wanted to get home, and in one piece preferably. I was still too scared to outright refuse. Slowly I approached the bed.

To Be Continued...