tagNonConsent/ReluctanceReturn of The Vile Gamer Ch. 1

Return of The Vile Gamer Ch. 1


It must have been six months or so after that night that I finally saw American Psycho, the movie I had intended to see, well... that night. I'd never made it inside the theater. My plans were rudely changed when I was abducted from the parking lot at knifepoint.

Thanks to my flirting, teasing and overall stupidity I spent the evening being brutally raped, abused and tormented by a real psycho....one I'd mistaken for a friend. I'm sure you remember Chuck. I know I can never forget him, no matter how hard I've tried.

Chuck. Former online friend...fellow writer...handsome.....sadistic...lousy bastard! I hated him still. Sure he could have hurt me a lot worse, but who cares? He hurt me enough. He hurt me plenty.

He was forced to give up his online pursuit of me after I blocked him from sending me any more email or instant messages. Poof...no more Chuck and his demented ravings about that night and how he knew I loved it. No more threats to come back either....those threats had totally terrified and unnerved me while sending my private parts into an aching, throbbing mess. And don't forget....I hated him. So you see, I couldn't talk to him anymore. It was all too confusing.

I was still hit with flashbacks on occasion, though not nearly as bad as before, when it was all still fresh...before my bruises and cuts healed. To my everlasting shame, I would not only remember the terror and violence of that night, but the stunning force of the orgasms he'd forced from me--mind shattering eruptions that came from God only knew what dark part of myself. But that's not the worst of it....I might as well confess further....It wasn't just the memory of the orgasms that would send my nether regions into a frenzy and set my whole body afire with lust. I wish I could say it was just that...then maybe I would've felt halfway normal....maybe. What bothered me the most was how the memory of the terror, helplessness and pain would bring on the same reaction.

How could the horrible memory of how the knife felt against my throat while being forced to swallow his cock make me throb?? How crazy was I to be able to bring myself to a crashing orgasm while remembering the rope around my neck, cutting off my air...re-living how it felt to face certain death while being painfully sodomized?? I'm no closer to understanding these things than I was when it happened, during those terribly strange days after the attack when I was forced by my own shame and guilt to stay silent and pretend it never happened. I was hoping that over time I could even believe my own charade.


I had gotten to a point in my life when I no longer thought about Chuck and what happened that night every second of the day. I'd pushed the whole incident into the deepest part of my secret self. It seemed the best way to make it all go away. I still hadn't told anyone, although I wrote several more rape stories that had gained something of a dubious popularity on the net. My readers were impressed with the realistic edge my tales of peril seemed to have. I just smiled and kept writing. At least it gave me an outlet without having to confront all these conflicted feelings of rage and arousal.

The day I discovered American Psycho had come out on video something shifted inside me and that night came back to me. At first I passed it by, unable to even look at the picture or writing on the box. Then I was annoyed with myself for my cowardice and rented it after all. I reasoned that I'd been wanting to see the damn movie, and he hadn't let me, so why should I let him stop me from seeing it now?

Good attitude....Bad idea.

I was shocked and thought I must be losing my mind when the first close-up of the actor playing the title role revealed a startling resemblance to my rapist. Why the hell did he have to look like him?? Surely I was only seeing things because of the connection between that movie and that night, but I still saw Chuck when I looked at him. Several times I resisted the impulse to just turn it off, but I sat thru it all with grim determination. The dude playing Patrick Bateman was NOT Chuck, dammit! He was a handsome, very talented actor named Christian Bale, and I was just being ridiculous!

That night I had terrible nightmares about being chased down a hallway by a crazed naked man who was covered in blood and weilding a chainsaw. That happened to be a scene from the movie, but in my dream it wasn't Patrick Bateman that chased me. Do I really need to say who it was? I haven't had nightmares over a stupid movie since I was a kid!

The anger I'd never really dealt with took even deeper root after that. For a time after the nightmare, I would feel pure anger and nothing else when I remembered that night. Those pesky sexual stirrings even went away....to my relief. The anger felt good and I latched onto it.

I'd been blaming myself for so long, and still did to a certain extent, but in my mind at least, Chuck finally began to share in the blame. Ok, so I'd teased him. Ok, so I'd been tricked into giving him too much information. Ok, so I'd roleplayed the part of his victim perfectly during our computer chats. Did any of that give him the right to make me his victim for real?? Some of you may say no, of course not. Some would probably say Hell YES. To those I would say this-- there's assholes everywhere, so who cares what you think?

Soon I became angry with myself for hiding from Chuck online. Why should I hide? He couldn't hurt me over the computer. My anger was growing more every day and I decided it was time to face him again. Vague ideas of seeking some sort of revenge were trying to form, although I had no clue what I could possibly do to him...but the thought of making him pay somehow was too seductive to ignore once it entered my head. I unblocked him, and waited.

I didn't have long to wait before the messages began again. Our first conversation was something like this;

Chuck: Where have you been?

Heather: Nowhere. I've had you blocked.

Chuck: I see. So why did you unblock me?

Heather: I was hoping maybe you'd dropped dead. No such luck.

Chuck: How have you been?

Heather: None of your business.

Our exchanges were like that for a while. My nastiness never seemed to bother him much. He was almost sickeningly nice despite my hostility. He started being weird again before long, telling me he wanted me again, quite desperately, and that he just knew I wanted him too. I told him to get bent, eat shit, go fuck himself, and a host of other charming sentiments when he would say those things, but nothing I said would make him mad enough to leave me alone. I was getting flustered and beginning to wonder why the hell I'd unblocked him. My idea of revenge was going nowhere.

Then one night it hit me....a real plan. It would be dangerous, maybe even deadly if I messed it up. Oh, but if it worked! Oh yes...The Vile Gamer would learn something about helplessness, pain and humiliation. It would be a lesson he wouldn't soon forget either.

The cautious part of me, the side of myself that worked so hard to pretend that night had never happened and move on with my life was horrified to say the least. Sometimes I was nearly overwhelmed with the madness of what I was planning, and tried to make myself stop. But there was a part of me that couldn't pretend anymore. It was angry all the time and punished my rational mind with flashbacks and nightmares whenever I thought of backing down. Finally it came down to either doing this thing or going mad.

While I was busy gathering things I would need and working out the details in my mind, I gradually became more friendly with Chuck. I admitted to him how part of me still became aroused when I remembered what happened, although it galled me to tell him this. I refused to agree to another "meeting" at first, pretending fear and guilt over my conflicted feelings (and let's face it, pretending such a thing wasn't that much of a stretch). Eventually, I pretended to let him talk me into it. It wasn't hard to make him believe I wanted another encounter as much as he did, since his ego was already convinced of it.

I told him I would get the room this time. I told him that one of my hottest fantasies was to be awakened, then taken in my bed by an "intruder". Since my own bed was out of the question, another hotel bed would have to do. I told him I'd leave him a key at the front desk. Chuck was nearly ecstatic over the idea.

"I knew you'd come around!", he wrote, adding "I think I might even bring a surprise for you this time".

"That would be nice", I replied, but didn't think about it any further. I cared nothing for his surprise, because he was the one who had a surprise waiting. Maybe I should have thought about it.

* * * *

The night of my carefully planned revenge on the Vile Gamer finally came. It had taken over a month to get ready for it...both the details and my nerve. I was very nervous and more than a little scared, but his day of reckoning was here and I was determined to go thru with it.

I could barely hold the key to the room, my fingers were trembling so badly. A duplicate was waiting at the front desk, as I'd promised, for a "Mr. Black" to claim it. I eventually managed to keep my own key steady enough to unlock the door, and quickly ducked into the room I'd reserved earlier that week.

Once again it was a Saturday night, and I told my husband that I was going to the movies. I'm sure he was glad I was out of the house since I'd been very much on edge all that week. I blamed it on my job. My poor darling....I felt terribly guilty to be lying to him this way; but it wasn't like I was planning to cheat on him or anything. I was getting revenge for him too, even if he didn't know it.

He told me he thought a movie night would do me good since it had been so long since my last one. He had no idea it was stark terror, rather than disinterest which kept me away from the theater. Just the thought of sitting in that parking lot again made me shudder and nearly cry. The relaxing and innocent fun of my movie nights was ruined forever for me now--something else Chuck was going to pay for. I hoped.

Now here I was, not in the dreaded theater parking lot where the bastard could possibly show up again, but in a room where he most definitely would show up (of that I had no doubt), with a key to get in waiting for him. The irony was a bit much.

I set the shopping bag I'd brought with me on the bed and quickly began to prepare. He would be here very soon and I didn't have much time. When my other preparations were in place I stripped off my sweater, jeans, bra and panties, then donned a silky black teddy I'd bought just for this occasion. I turned off all the lights except for a corner lamp, which I covered with a sheer black nylon scarf. Doing this cast the room into semi-darkness with only a softly muted glow to see by. For what I was planning I needed as much darkness as possible, but still be able to see.

I pulled back the covers of the bed and slipped between the cool sheets, positioning myself to look as if I were sleeping. This was how he expected to find me so we could play out my "fantasy".

As I lay there on my side, one hand under my pillow, I touched the object I had hidden there and wondered for the zillionth time if I could really go through with this crazy scheme. I'd never done anything this dangerous in my entire life. I felt very vulnerable despite my careful plans. I was terrified, but at this point in the game it didn't matter. He would be here any moment and I had no choice anymore...there was no turning back. The only way out (besides trying to run, then and there) would be to hide my hidden object somewhere else and go thru with what Chuck thought we were going to do, which was spend the next several hours being used and abused by him again. I ignored the damn lying tingle this thought caused and was more determined than ever to go thru with MY plan, not his.

On and on my mind raced and pondered while I waited for him, and I was so wound up that I had to clench my teeth to keep from screaming when I heard his key in the lock. I forced myself to take a few deep breaths when I heard the door slowly open. Since I was supposed to be pretending sleep, I screwed my eyes tightly shut as I heard him approach, but they flew open again when I heard his voice.

"Heatherrrr...", he half-whispered.

I jumped, startled despite knowing he was there, and looked up at him. He was cloaked in shadows, yet I recognized him immediately. Seeing his face again nearly froze my blood and I feared I wouldn't have the nerve after all.

A kalaidescope of terrifying images flashed thru my mind's eye....his switchblade at my open car window....his mocking sneers and laughter....his handsome features contorted in rage at my attempted escape....the sight of my own face in the mirror when it was over-- the bruises, the swollen lips, the rope burns and smeared blood. I didn't expect this paralyzing parade of flashbacks.....Ohgod, I COULDN'T just freeze like this!!

He laughed somewhat nervously it sounded like, then spoke again.

"Just making double sure I have the right room. Wow...do I ever! look at you..."

Without further preamble he sat on the bed beside me and began touching me....my face....my neck...my hair. Then his hands boldly moved down to my breasts, fondling and squeezing till my nipples sprang to attention under the thin silky material that covered them. I gazed up at him, my heart pounding. I was nearly sick with nerves and fright now that the moment was at hand.

"Lookin good, Babe...",

His voice was roughened with lust. His breathing became heavy with excitement as he continued to explore my body.

My traitorous bitch of a cunt was suddenly alive and wet. How easy it would have been to just submit to his expert handling....to surrender to the dark longings his touches awakened in me....to let go and be his victim one more time....after all it would have been way less dangerous than what I was planning...I was appalled to hear my own excited gasps and moans.....ooohhhhh... NO!!! I snapped out of the hypnotic pull of my own arousal...I knew I must NOT let this happen!!! How could I allow myself to consider it even for a moment?? How could I possibly allow myself to be seduced by the man I hated most in the world?

I stiffened and jerked away from him...and from his evil seductive power over me. I shoved him hard as I squirmed away from his touches. He was laughing quietly at my sudden struggle, believing the game was about to start in earnest.

"So....my little bitch wants to play rough again...fine with me". He smiled and pulled his shirt over his head. It was now or never.

As Chuck was removing his shirt, and before I could weaken again, I quickly shoved my hand back under the pillow and groped for the thing I had hidden there. It was a stun-gun...advertised to send enough volts thru an attacker to render him unconscious, but cause no real or lasting harm. I'd found it on the internet, and had set this date with Chuck only after it was delivered. With no time to further ponder the matter of could I do it, I drove it into his side while his shirt was over his head and squeezed the trigger. He never saw it coming.

There was a horrifying split second when I was sure it hadn't worked. He had been poised over my body, ready to grab at me again, when he suddenly stiffened, making no noise except for a strangled grunt, then fell onto me...pinning me to the bed with his dead weight.

He lay across me, silent and motionless. I began to feel panic as I squirmed and struggled to get out from beneath him. I didn't know how long his paralysis would last, but for those frantic moments I was sure he'd come out of it before I could free myself. That would be just my luck, after all.

Gathering all my strength, I finally managed to scoot out from under him, and promptly fell to the floor on my behind. While down there, I quickly rolled onto my stomach and reached for the closest restraint.

Earlier I'd tied four seperate lengths of strong rope tightly to each of the bed's legs, hiding the loose ends under the bed itself so nothing would be visible in the darkness. Now I seized one of the ends that would restrain one of Chuck's wrists--the wrists, of course would have to be tied first so he couldn't grab me if he came out of it before I was finished. Scrambling to my feet with the free end of the rope clutched in my fist, I was instantly dismayed to realize I would have to roll him over and do quite a bit of shoving to get him positioned right. Oh Great!! , I thought. He's going to come out of it for sure now. Why the hell hadn't I thought of that before??

I was still grimly determined to finish what I'd set in motion, so with many a grunt and curse I somehow managed to get him turned onto his back and more or less in the middle of the bed. Despite my growing panic I forced myself to tie the knots good on each wrist, making sure they were where he couldn't reach them with his fingers. I heaved a sigh of relief when I was satisfied that both wrists were tightly restrained, then moved to the foot of the bed where I fished out the ends that would tie his ankles.

I was halfway finished restraining his second ankle when Chuck began to stir. I nearly panicked but fought the urge to stun him again. Instead, I threw my leg over his and sat on it while I finished tying the last knot.

He was groaning when I stepped off the bed, but not quite aware yet of what had happened. I stood there, absently rubbing my sore bottom where I'd landed on it earlier, and observed with trepidation my captive's return to consciousness.

To be Continued....

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