Linda's Late, What Happened Next

It seems, that since I wrote the Linda's late story, some people have been very interested in what became of her. I never planned to write a sequel, but nevertheless I do have a soft (hard) spot for the lady myself. As a result of the appeal of the first story, I'm sure that some people will, inevitably, be disappointed by my efforts. I am a painfully slow writer and I can only say that I've done my best.

Naturally, this is pure fantasy and I do not condone the use of force, abuse or blackmail of women for sex, in reality.

Linda was watching TV, early on a Saturday night in her cosy pajamas and fluffy dressing gown. She had made herself a cup of tea, a few of her favourite, chocolate biscuits and settled down to watch a celebrity game show. She found the mind numbing, banality of the program, somehow helped to maintain a sense of normality. It had been over seven weeks since... that horrible, horrible day. Linda had never told a living soul about her ordeal. Of course she had intended to, when she finally got home, but she had felt so shocked, frightened and ashamed, she didn't know where to start. On the day that she had been attacked, Linda rang work, from home, and told them she wouldn't be able to attend work or the party because she felt quite ill. She had showered, three times in total, and promised herself that she would definitely call the police tomorrow, when she had recovered her senses a little. However, the next day, it didn't seem any easier and in fact, every day after, for many reasons, it became more and more difficult to tell anyone about it.

It had been truely awful to start with, she was all alone with her terrible secret thoughts. Linda took a week off work, telling her employers that she had a virus. As a result of the fact that Linda was normally so conscientious, she was believed implicitly and even sent a large bunch of flowers and a get well soon card from her employers. The reality for Linda was that, although she had some bruising and scratches, physically, she was virtually unharmed. She did, subsequently, seek and receive a discrete STD test and was thoroughly relieved when she got the all clear result. However, the fact that she was physically unharmed after the rape, was a problem in itself, because it left her with a nagging feeling of guilt. She began to be consumed by that guilt and self recrimination. Although she knew that it was wrong and self-destructive, she tortured herself with recriminations.

Why hadn't she stayed in the car?

Why didn't she just turn back when she had become lost?

Most importantly, what if she had fought and screamed more?

Would she have frightened them off? Then there was the "elephant in the room" question, why hadn't she called the police?

If she was to be brutally honest with herself, Linda would probably admit that her courage failed her. Women who have undergone the horrible ordeal of rape and then reported it, are the brave ones. Linda felt that she lacked the courage to face the questions and reliving the ordeal with other people. Then there was the probability of a court case and seeing those... two young animals again. So, she took the week off work, shut the world out and tried to come to terms with what had happened and move on with her life.

Linda eventually decided that the best way to get through this, was to pretend to herself, as well as everyone else she knew, that nothing had happened. Which is exactly what she did, with some success. When Linda returned to work at the solicitor's offices, her colleagues noted that she appeared to have lost weight, was a little pale and subdued and commented that the virus must have been quite a nasty one. Linda agreed, grateful that any differences could be passed off so easily, and gradually, in the best English tradition, kept calm and carried on, politely pretending nothing everything was normal. Over the weeks, life had, outwardly, returned to normal, but not really, not for Linda. She had, in some ways, never really moved on from that moment in time. Something inside had changed since that day and Linda visited it endlessly in her mind.

It was bad enough that she had become stupidly lost, in the city where she had worked, for many years. That lack of awareness and complacency, on her part, had led to the whole terrible chain of events. However, in common with many victims of rape, Linda was wracked with remorse and guilt. It stemmed from the nagging thought that she hadn't screamed, tried to run or put up a fight, even though she knew very well that she could have been injured or killed. No one could criticise her, no one would... but it didn't prevent her from holding herself to account. However, her deepest and most secret disgrace, was those seconds of intense sexual pleasure which she had experienced... whilst being raped. Why? Why? Why? Linda went over and over it, in her head again and again, as she had done so many times.

It had begun when she had embarrassingly, had to ask the first youth for help. Although Linda was older and clearly held a socially and financially, superior position, she was out of her comfort zone and had been reduced to asking for help. In retrospect, offering money had been a mistake, perhaps, unconsciously, she had seen it as a way to try and maintain some level of superiority, in that situation. When the black lad had turned up, full of bounce and swagger, it was now two to one. She was acutely aware of her rising level of discomfort. These were their streets. Looking back, Linda knew that the first lad must have texted the second, they must have thought, "how can this posh bitch be so stupid?". She rejected the thought that it was the black lad's colour that had made her wary, it was more the fact that he looked too confident and physically imposing. Finally, the realisation that she was lost, in a run down city area, alone with two tough, street kids had crystallised in her preoccupied mind.

The way she looked, her nervousness and the clothes she wore, made her a perfect target for anyone who wanted to take everything she had... and that was just what they did! Linda remembered how her initial feeling of embarrassment and disquiet, had slid queasily into fear. Her heart quickened, her stomach flipped and her legs felt unsteady on her precarious heels. This sort of thing never happened to safe, middle-class people like Linda. Vague, alarming, but also, if she were being honest with herself, oddly exciting thoughts of danger had, at first, flitted through her consciousness. Something dark and furtive had stirred deep down inside her. Linda could only describe it now, in retrospect, as a kind of unwholesome, illicit thrill, a guilty buzz of anticipation. Perhaps like the fear of being caught shoplifting, or exceeding the speed limit. Not that she had ever had the courage to do such things, but she imagined that it was similar.

She had still felt that, if she kept her head, she might talk her way out of it, or someone might come to her rescue. Then, when the thugs first produced a knife, all her anxious thoughts of escape back to safety, suddenly disappeared and were replaced by instinctive thoughts of survival. She wasn't naive, they had seen her money, Linda knew then that she was going to be robbed and there was absolutely nothing that she could do about it. However, like all women alone, threatened and menaced by men, there was also that paralysing dread, of the possibility of sexual assault. If she couldn't prevent them from robbing her, how could she stop them from....!

It was then that the middle-aged lady had, perhaps first experienced, in amongst the bowel loosening fear, a frisson of sexual danger, slithering furtively, somewhere deep inside her. A lady in peril, a damsel in distress. Why had those sort situations and scenes, in films and books, always sparked her interest and imagination? Retrospectively, Linda wondered if other women in that awful situation had ever felt that weird, never to be spoken of, combination of terror and excitement like her? Or, was she uniquely perverse among her sex? Was it an unconscious yearning for the kind of mental, physical and sexual humiliation, to which she had been subjected, by her degenerate, ex-husband? Yet, she had come to loathe the abusive relationship and him, during their marriage, so her feelings just didn't make any. sense.

However, one thing that Linda was sure of, that she had, categorically, not enjoyed the reality of being raped, on a filthy mattress, by two low life juvenile delinquents. That experience had been shocking, frightening and degrading. The respectable, middle aged lady had felt violated, dirty, angry and humiliated. So, why did she have such a powerful orgasm, whilst submitting to being physically bullied, used and sexually abused? What was wrong with her? No one else, aside from those directly involved, even knew that Linda had been raped and it was only Linda herself, who carried the legacy of disconcertingly, inappropriate, feelings which that violent incident had stirred up.

Later, after she had recovered from the initial shock and physical trauma of her attack, Linda was left alone with those unsettling thoughts, she could confide in no one. As the days and weeks distanced her, further and further, from the frightening, sordid reality of her ordeal, the bruises and soreness healed. Yet, those thoughts remained, mingling with inexplicably, twisted erotic fantasies that intruded relentlessly into her quiet moments. Linda experienced, what she would later come to recognise as, post traumatic stress, which haunted both her dreams and her daytime thoughts. Excerpts of her rape, complete with sounds and smells, seemed to loop, in vivid imagery, in her mind's eye. When it did, the trembling mature woman couldn't prevent the same feelings she had experienced, flooding through her system.

When she was at work, or in company, Linda sometimes needed to excuse herself and go to the toilet or some other quiet space, until the trembling and heart pounding had abated. Somehow, that awful event and her unwanted sexual reaction to it, had become inextricably linked, in her confused brain. She was no psychologist, by any means, but she could just about understand why those unresolved, nauseous feelings of terror and degradation might reoccur, that seemed understandable. However, to her shame and bewilderment, Linda also experienced a kind of sordid excitement as well. Especially when she thought of how easily she had been taken, and sexually humiliated, in broad daylight. The fact that her rapists appeared to have been young enough to be her children, only added to both her sense of humiliation and, ultimately, her perverse arousal. To the point that, the outwardly prim and respectable, middle-class, legal secretary had, on more than one occasion, succumbed to an overwhelming urge to masturbate, whilst replaying those horrible scenes of ravishment in her mind.

Afterwards, Linda had sobbed in anger and shame, shocked by her own sordid actions, appalled each time it happened. This was Linda's "dirty secret", which no one could ever know. So, the smartly dressed, middle-aged lady, continued to manage her, outwardly normal life, one day at a time and prayed for peace of mind to return. A church going Christian, since her divorce from Gerald, Linda found comfort and a sense of moral respectability in the church. Especially after what her ex-husband had forced her to endure, when she was much younger. She had felt that was what was needed, some form of atonement perhaps, in order to put her participation in his carnal demands behind her.

Her recent rape and her perverse reaction to it, had made her cling onto that faith even tighter, almost like a drowning woman. Linda had tried to redouble her involvement in her local church in an attempt to salve her conscience. The reverend Mr Ian James was delighted, he had always seemed to have time for her. Although she could never contemplate actually telling him anything. He was young, handsome and quite attentive towards her. Being a good, clean and morally upright man, the middle aged woman felt comforted when she talked with him. Yet nothing, not even the good reverend, banished the thoughts.

Linda shivered a little as she tried to chase those thoughts from her mind, for now, and returned her attention to the TV. After about twenty minutes of very light entertainment, she heard the flap on her letterbox rattle. Since it was a bit too late for post or deliveries, she paused the TV and went into the hall to have a look. Linda had been more nervous since the attack and had invested in extra security for her house. There was an envelope in her mail basket. She looked through her peephole in the door, no one was there but the PIR movement sensor had been activated and the door light was still illuminated. Someone had been there, because the envelope had no stamp, it had been delivered personally. Linda sat back on her sofa and opened the letter. The first thing that slid out of the envelope was a small memory stick, which puzzled her until she began to read the poorly written letter.

Hello Mrs Jones (Linda)

Nice house!!!

I hope that you are OK after that thing in the park

You were really great and we really enjoyed it and we think that you liked it a bit rough like that because you cum like a young teenaged slut ha ha. We was really surprised!!!

As you can see we tracked you down and it wasn't hard because we got your phone unlocked and working and we got your driver's licence.

Well, we have been watching you for a bit now and we figured that a woman who lives in a house like this would not mind helping us out because we need some cash

You never reported what happened because no police never came round and there was nothing in even the local paper. So we figured that you don't want no one to know about what happened. Well that suits us as well so how about £1,000 each to keep quiet.

Don't worry it will be a one off payment and you will not see or hear of us again.

We will give you a few days to sort the money out.

We put some video on the stick for you to watch. You look really fucking hot Mrs Jones. Ha ha

We will be in touch at the weekend.

P. S.

We know you didn't go to the police so don't get stupid and do it now or we will know and you will be sorry!!!

Mr White and Mr Black

Linda's stomach flipped and for a few seconds she felt physically sick. Scrambling around she found the memory stick which had fallen on the floor. Then standing up quickly, looking around fearfully, she dashed through to the kitchen and bolted the door. Moving around the house she checked windows and drew blinds, finally finishing upstairs, where she peered out at her, nicely kept, front and back gardens, but the security light had gone out and no sinister figures were skulking in the gloom. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions and fears, which threatened to completely overwhelm her. Linda curled up on her bed, alone in the darkened room and and tried to make sense of her spinning thoughts, but the only one which came through, clearly and repeatedly was... "They know where I live!"

She woke up with a start, not realising that she had been to sleep, her brain must have been so overloaded that it just shut down and rebooted. Looking down Linda noticed that she still had the memory stick in her hand. Downstairs in her living room, the TV was still playing to itself. With a feeling of dread, mingled with sick kind of curiosity, she opened the file on her laptop and played the video. The film flicked on in an open space, there was sky and scrubby grass. At first, movement made the picture blurry and things were a little difficult to make out. There were some confused sounds and words, but then, it became obvious that she was watching a woman's hand masturbating a penis. The fingernails were pink and manicured, there was the neatly buttoned cuff and the sleeve of a fine, white, silk blouse rippling with the movement. The camera tracked out, unsteadily, from a close up view of the sex act to pan out inexpertly and take in the woman who was, equally inexpertly and tentatively, masturbating the young man's erect psnis. Linda felt a little nauseous as she recognised herself, her hand moved to the stop button... but, her finger never quite reached it. It just sort of hovered, trembling over it while her eyes were transfixed by the unfolding scene.

Oddly, perhaps as a form of self defence, her mind seemed to adopt the position that it wasn't really looking at a film of herself, but someone else. A respectable woman would never ever do that sort of thing.... she would never do that sort of thing! Respectability had become Linda's watchword and mantra, ever since her divorce. Gerald's lascivious, sadistic abuse of her, during her young married life, had left her with a legacy of deep shame and guilt. Her way of dealing with that guilt was to try to achieve and maintain an air of complete "respectability". No one who knew the prim and proper, prudish Linda of today, could possibly imagine that the woman in this obscene video, was her. Linda had worked so diligently on her persona, that she had practically convinced herself. So, Linda found herself feeling like a sort of a detached onlooker, observing a rather distasteful video nasty, that wasn't quite real.

There were now two young men in shot, both being masturbated by the woman, who seemed to have her eyes closed, behind her designer glasses. The sex act might have appeared at this point, to anyone who hadn't been present, to be consensual. There was no sign of coercion, although the woman in the film didn't appear to be particularly enjoying what she was doing, she wasn't struggling or protesting either. True, the woman seemed totally incongruous in that situation, she was mature, very smartly dressed, business suit, tight skirt and high heels and the youths were much younger, scruffy and clearly at home in the urban wasteland around them. They were talking to the woman, addressing her as "Linda" and "Mrs Jones" like they knew her, but in a taunting, mocking fashion. All the while, the woman just carried on obediently, almost mechanically, tugging on their stiff erections, without apparently, any sort of protest. Linda's mouth was dry and her breathing had deepened... she should switch it off...! She clearly remembered the feel of that warm, young flesh in her hands, the soft texture of the skin, but mainly the unyielding, springy, masculine hardness as her small, soft fingers closed, reluctantly, around them. She felt a distinctly sexual throb in her panties... switch it off!

The scene flipped suddenly, they must have propped up one or both of their phones to film these final scenes. The woman, clearly the same woman, was on her back on a pile of squalid, old mattresses. She saw things that she hadn't noticed at the time. A broken wardrobe, on its side, bicycle frame, a broken sink and building rubble, so many car tyres witb grass and nettles growing through and around everything. The youths themselves were swearing aggressively. They appeared to be using the poor woman like a sex doll...... turn it off! Her nice, smart clothes were almost unrecognisable, pulled off, torn open and ripped aside. An angry looking, black youth was holding the ankles of the woman's black stocking clad legs and pushing them back over her pinned body. He was violently penetrating her, whilst the other, white boy, was crouched over on his knees doing, what could only be described as, using the woman's mouth. The woman in the film, incomprehensibly, just lay there seemingly passive, allowing herself to be violated... why didn't she resist...? Turn it off!

Her finger had almost touched the screen's stop icon, when she saw the woman's body arch stiffly and, amid the grunts, oaths a crudities, she heard a deep, gutteral groan. Her fingers were hooked, claw like, into the mattress, just as the fingers of Linda's free hand, were now hooked into the cushion of her sofa, unconsciously mirroring the victim on the screen. The mature lady's breath caught in her throat, because she knew beyond any doubt that the woman in the video, that lost, frightened, middle-aged lady, had just experienced an intense orgasm, whilst being raped. Her finger finally released her from the torment and the screen went blank. Linda's heart was racing, her large breasts rising and falling rapidly and her face was flushed bright red. Two thoughts competed for prominence in her mind as she lay in bed that night, searching for sleep, "No one who knows me can ever see that video!" and "What do they want?".