Ch. 03: Attack

The next day as she sat at the conference, with her legs crossed demurely, taking copious notes, her blouse buttoned up to her neck, looking very dignified, she mused and wondered at how contradictory her appearance today was with her behavior last night.

Her demeanor and dress was in stark contrast with the cock-hungry whore she played only a few hours earlier. She stifled a giggle at the thought of her colleagues here at the conference, and if only they knew what she was capable of. And sitting with her legs crossed wasn't a nicety; it was a necessity, as sitting a bit on edge removed a bit of pressure from her posterior regions.

Jennifer had no plans to see either man tonight, since they'd tarried so long at her motel room the night before, Donald presumed he'd be "grounded," and Tim had an evening planned with his daughter. Being rather exhausted, and not a little bit sore, she gratefully picked up Chinese take-out and went alone to her room.

As she pulled around the back lot of the motel, she noted that the street lamps were still out. Carrying nothing but her room key, purse, and her dinner, she exited her vehicle quickly and walked purposefully to the door of her room. As she slid the bolt away and turned the knob, a rush of wind and hands at her back alerted her that she was not alone. She screamed, but was cut off abruptly as a gloved hand closed over her mouth. She was lifted off her feet and dragged into the room, and the door shut quickly behind her.

Jennifer's eyes adjusted to the dark and she saw that she had three assailants, all wearing ski masks and black gloves. She was frozen with fear, and found her knees turned to jelly. The men set down her belongings and one still held her fast with a hand at her mouth and an arm like a steel band across her chest. She was still lifted off the floor and flailing, but her struggling feet never found purchase against a convenient knee cap.

The hand on her mouth was a vice-like grip, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she begged silently for them to let her live. Then she felt a cold circle of metal on her temple and realized that her attackers had a gun. She recalled from self-defense classes that sometimes the only defense you have is to submit, and pray the attacker doesn't kill you anyway.

Since she hadn't seen any faces, Jennifer figure this was the only option left to her. She calmed down, and took slow breaths through her nostrils until they noticed and realized that she had stopped struggling. The blood was rushing through her head and ears, and she didn't hear a word that they said as they discussed the situation. They spoke briefly about the fact that the parking lot was deserted and no one had noticed her being dragged into her room. One man remarked on the good smell of the Chinese food and was told to shut up by another.

Once they noticed she'd stopped struggling, the one holding her mouth cautiously lowered her feet to the floor and removed his hand. The gun was still at her head. She knew no one would hear her scream, so she whispered in a tremulous voice, "I swear, I swear, I'll give you anything you want, just please, please don't kill me. I don't have much money, but you can have it all, just please, please don't kill me." She started to sob, "I have two children, please...I'm so far away from home, please...please, I promise, I'll do anything you say..." Beginning to cry had released some of her tension and she began to sob hysterically, uncontrollably, and she slumped against the man who held her chest.

"Damn right, you'll do as we say...but we're not here to rob you or kill you, unless you do something stupid, like scream or kick or bite. This," (he tapped her temple with his gun) "is just here to remind you of that. No stupid moves. Stupid equals dead. Capiche?" She nodded, collecting herself and getting her breath back. She still trembled, and felt a numbness through her soul.

This is it, she told herself. This is what I deserve for acting like a whore last night. Now I'm really going to be raped and maybe even murdered. Why did I ever think this was exciting?

The man holding her moved her roughly to the bed and slapped padded handcuffs on her wrists, shackling her to the headboard. She kept her knees together and tried to pull herself into the fetal position, but another man grasped one ankle and tied it down, using a man's tie. On the other side of the bed, another man did the same with her other ankle. She was lying cross-wise on the bed with her legs spread-eagled. She closed her eyes and began to pray. The men began to unzip and disrobe, but they kept their ski masks on.

"Hey, man, these are getting hot...how about we blind fold her instead, and we can take off our masks?"

"Fine. Grab another scarf from my duffel...the dark one, anyway we're leaving the lights off, so it shouldn't be a problem. Be careful about fingerprints on the furniture; and no one goes bareback, are we clear?"

Jennifer's mind was numb, and as they blindfolded her she repeated a prayer in her head, please God, don't let them kill me, please God, don't let them kill me, please God, don't let them kill me... But out of the fog in her brain rang something familiar...she recognized that voice.

The commanding one, the one in charge...was that...no...could it be? It sounded like Donald. She hadn't heard his voice in almost 20 years, and then last night in their passion she heard him, but she couldn't quite be sure.

She began to relax. This was another extension of a fantasy she'd told him, being "taken" by three masked strangers. Of course the symbolism is obvious...if a woman is taken by force, then it wasn't her fault, ergo, not something to feel shame about. A fantasy of being taken by force was a common thread in women, but not at all the same as actually wanting to be raped.

If this were friend, and not foe, that shed a different light on the whole experience. She was still trembling with the adrenalin rush caused by the fear, but she willed her muscles to relax and not be held so tight. That would minimize injury, if she could make herself like a rag doll. She cleared her throat and spoke up. "May I speak?"