Stranger Danger at the Bar

So it's the weekend and you're going out with some of the gals, you make sure you put on some basic make up, you know, just touching up with a little foundation and concealer, nothing too flashy and pick out some complimentary clothes. You're showing a little skin and feeling sexy but you're not looking to get laid, definitely don't look under dressed compared to a couple of your friends who all just want to unwind together with a few drinks, catch up on some gossip and enjoy the ambiance of the bar. You notice a few lads throwing a couple of admiring glances towards your group, but that's nothing out of the ordinary and who knows! After a couple of drinks the urge to dance might strike and perhaps you'll do a little harmless flirting. The evening was like many others, but you didn't anticipate that there was something that would mark that night out from the rest...

The first warning sign was there from the beginning. One of your four friends suggested starting the night with some shots. 'Here we go again' you thought, there's always that one person who encourages kicking off the night with a bang only to get emotional and need looking after at the end of the night. Even so, they still somehow managed to egg the group on. You liked them, they were fun but could be a bit dramatic. But when the shots were being poured you could have sworn you heard someone make a comment that you didn't pay much attention to.

"You ladies keep that up things might get interesting tonight."

It's one of those comments muttered underneath their breath that just managed to reach your earshot. Little did you heed that as a threat, one passing comment wasn't enough to dampen your mood and no one else in your group heard. The night was still young and you were still feeling fresh, and managed to find a table for yourselves which was good as you didn't fancy standing in heels all night!

After switching from shots to more civilised, sippable cocktails you could feel the alcohol taking effect. You felt light and bubbly, relaxed and the girls lips had loosened and talk soon turned to the latest sexual exploits of people in your college and latest crushes, who was seeing who, who was seeing who despite seeing who, and who knew who was seeing who and what they were going to do! Amidst your chattering, you could have sworn that you saw a man looking at you sitting at the bar, but when you glimpsed again he had turned back around. You're probably just being silly, threat signals on overdrive from the dark event that hurt you before. But that's in the past, the future is yours! Nobody listens to their gut. What set him apart from other patrons was that he was alone. White man who looked to be in his thirties wearing dark blue jeans and a black leather jacket. Did he make the comment earlier? Did it really matter?

"Oh my GAWD! I LOVE this song! Come on, we just HAVE to dance," your lively friend enthused, so you hauled yourselves to the dance floor and started flashing your moves having fun and building a little bit of a sweat.

It was a crowded, humid environment and you were having fun dancing with your friends. Playfully bumping booties, spinning under each others arms, waving them in the air and bopping up and down depending on what the music demanded. A couple of your friends decided to disappear to the toilet to retouch their makeup, and whilst they were departing you felt a hand graze your upper leg, almost reaching up your short shorts. You turn around but can only see fellow dancers of all types. Maybe it was an intrusive accident you thought, the dance floor was small and it was a busy night. People brush up against one and other sometimes, after all. Nonetheless, in your hyper vigilant state, you look back to see your friends entering the toilet and can't help but see a flash of black leather entering the men's. Could it have been him? At this stage you decide to go back and guard the table and what was left of your drinks.

As expected, your friends from the toilet came back and joined you. They aren't ones to ruin their makeup twice! They liked wearing more than you, and really went for quantity over quality when buying their mascara, which ran far too easily. Your lively friend was still with the other on the dancefloor, so now the remaining three of you could turn the conversation around to talking about HER!

"Who's taking her home tonight then?" one asked. Usually you are one of the first to volunteer but your other friend stopped you.

"No you don't! You can take the night off. I'll grab an uber for me and her, it's on the way to mine anyway and you had to carry her heels all the way back last time. Okay, time for more drinks! You save a spot in the queue whilst I see what they want."

You go to the bar and sure enough all four friends return with their orders and help you carry them back. Whilst you were queuing however, you caught the man in leather staring at you, not even trying to hide the fact he was undressing you with his eyes.

"I love me a young one," he snarled, licking his lips as he downed another beer.

It was the type of comment that wasn't said to you but at you. You felt reassured that your friends had returned after that with their orders and to help carry the drinks back to the table.

"That guy in the jacket keeps looking at me," you expressed.

"Just ignore him, just a lone creep."

By now in your life you'd become used to the odd stranger here and there unsettling you, part of that sickeningly normalised everyday sexism so integrated into our culture. Ah, the male gaze. Most of the time nothing came of it. Most of the time.

A couple of your friends decided to leave a little early, you could have left with them. Why didn't you? Because you're always putting others first, aren't you? Still, it wasn't that much later when you three had had enough. Or at least, when you know who had clearly had enough. After assisting your friend in dragging her into the taxi stumbling, you insisted on walking back home as you lived in a separate direction and it wasnt far anyway. Sober up, feel the pleasant night time breeze after escaping the radiating bodies of the crowded bar inside. Only you noticed something. Him. He was smoking out front. He must have come out around the same time you helped your friend into the cab. You walked past him and a few metres down the road looked over your shoulder. He had started to walk in the same direction. 'Not again' you thought and hastened your steps, glancing back to find he hadn't switched gears, that you had some distance on him. Still, you couldn't help but feel a growing sense of dread. 'It's only a five-minute walk' you thought. Only five minutes. You turn round the corner off the main road to the side street bearing your house only to now hear footsteps coming quickly behind you. Did he wait till you had gone round a corner to run and catch up with you?

You turn around, but wished you hadn't. You should have started running instead, sooner even. It was him, descending upon you. You open your mouth to scream for help, but he covers it with his large rough hand.

"No you don't sweetheart," his other arm round your waist dragging you inside the adjacent house. "I've had my eye on you. I've seen you walking past here a few times." You gulped. Thoughts start rushing through your mind. He'd planned this? Waiting for the opportunity? Why hadn't you taken a cab back? Before you finished your thought the door was slammed shut behind you and you round yourself thrown onto the sofa.

You try to stand back up. You find yourself pushed back down again, slamming against the sofa back. Dazed, he had already taken off your shoes when he said "There's an easy way or a hard way". You tremor, the hard way does not seem like an option.

You opened your mouth to try to protest but found nothing coming out as he tore your upper garments off you, snapping your bra clasp as he did so.

"Not big, are they? Perky enough though," he sneered.

How dare he shame your breast size, how dare he violate you like this, you wanted to kick him in the balls, run outside, call the cops but instead you inexplicably felt yourself arch your back to assist him taking off your shorts. Did you secretly want this? No, you were scared. Everything's happening so fast.

"That's the spirit. What have we here?" he grinned as he pointed to the growing wet patch on your underwear.

You were paralyzed by fear...but also a sense of confusion. You didn't want to be here. You didn't want him to touch you. And yet your pussy was glistening with moistness as he simply tugged your underwear to the side, still on, and entered you. He was violating your consent, robbing you of your autonomy and yet what started as weak sobs of "no, please...don't!" soon turned to a mix between a moan and a whimper, as you begin to experience a twisted blend of pleasure and pain.

Usually you like to be more involved. Pride yourself even in your ability to thrust, gyrate your hips, cling on to a man's nape and scream words of encouragement. But this is not like a usual time. You're being used like an object and your body is limp as a rag doll. You can see the ceiling. You can see the contorted look of manic exertion on his face. But most of all you can feel your pussy gushing with juices. Usually it takes more of a build up, more sexual tension, more foreplay for your body to reach this state, but as you feel his cock slamming into the back of your cervix a familiar warmth begins to grow inside of you. 'Not now...not with him. No-' but the thought was useless.

What started as a spark soon turned into a flame as your body starts convulsing and you experience one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

"Oh fuck," you let out as you feel the sensation rolling through your body in waves.

He can feel your pussy contracting around his cock whilst your entire body starts to shiver with a dark ecstasy. Your whole world disappears in that moment, as you close your eyes and try to ride out the experience, try to be someplace different, try to block out what's happening and stop enjoying it.

"LOOK AT ME" he shouts. "Stare into my eyes as you cum for my cock." Dragged back to reality you see him smirk. "You like that bitch? Eh?" goading you in a moment of weakness. He starts pounding you with even greater rapidity, the perspiration on his forehead giving away his impending release. "I said you like that, slut?" clearly expecting a response. You find yourself nodding meekly in the affirmative as tears swell in your eyes before your head cranes back, giving way to yet another climax.

"Aooaawh," you whimper as waves of endorphins course through your body, your mind flooded with dopamine as you enjoy being raped like the dirty little girl you are.

He withdraws from your cooch and sprays your face with thick white creamy jets of spunk. You feel used, abused, humiliated. You can't help but taste a little of the salty gunk as it runs down off your chin. He shows little regard for you after he plastered you with his seed. Getting dressed and walking out in a daze, face still sticky you go home and shower. Do you tell the police about this man? No. But you do touch yourself thinking about what terrible things he done to you...