Christmas Party Intrusion

"Deeb, let's just forget about it, I won't say anything; I promise." I had taken the softer approach, trying to cool off his aggression.

"No.........we aren't done." His voice was even but menacing

"What? No............................what are you talking about?" To this point what he was thinking had not crossed my mind yet; it didn't even seem like a possibility until.....

I felt his hands grab my lower back and pull me toward him so I could feel his very hard penis through his pants.

"NO!!!!!" I was out of my mind with fear, it was at this moment that I realized this wasn't just a fight, he was raping me. "Deep NOOO!!!! You can't.....you can't....you can't" I said this over and over as the fight came back to me and I was pushing, clawing and kicking with everything I had.

My nails found his skin a few times but I wasn't able to really hurt him. He grabbed my neck from both sides in a sort of vice again. This time he started to lift and stretch my head away from my body. "Don't move, you'll break your neck," he said with a steely and icy calm almost like he was contemplating the possibility.

"Don't ddddddo this ........ yyyyyyou'll go to jail." My words left my lips with an uncontrollable stutter.

"No, I won't," he paused for effect, "you know why?" This was a rhetorical question. "I won't go to jail because you won't tell anyone."

"You know why you won't tell anyone?" He had evened my head out so I was looking right into his inhuman eyes. "You won't tell anyone because........ you're..... too....... scared."

His mouth was now very close to my ear and he was whispering in a sinister tone, "You're too scared everyone will know you're a whore. You're scared this will only get worse if you tell. You're scared that you don't know what I'm willing to do. I can see it in your eyes; you've already lost....... No you`re not going to tell........ No, you won't tell a soul....... You're going to help me clean this up. You will lie about this; cover it up, anything not to be in this washroom with me, anything to pretend this didn't happen. Because you're a liar, you lie to yourself you know you want this."

Finished taunting me, Deeb loosened his belt and let his pants fall, the buckle making an ominous noise hitting the tiled floor. I looked down and saw his fully erect penis pointing right at me. I lost all ability to rationally process thought; I could only feel on a primal level. My last chance to fight was a desperate and terrified grasp for hope. I kicked, clawed and screeched as loud as I could with the hope that something, someone, took him off of me.

"Shut the fuck up!" I head this over and over again as I continued to scream in protest. His attempts to muffle my mouth were met with bites. I felt like a caged animal, the urge to be free was the only instinct controlling my movements. Until.............SMASH.......I felt the back of my head hit the mirror. Through all the flailing and jostling Deeb was able to grab both sides of my head and he pushed me back into the mirror with force; slamming the back of my head into the glass. It felt like my brain skipped, I was hurt pretty bad and the program that my mind was playing was self-preservation at all costs; even if it meant getting fucked by this animal.

He pulled me back up and started positioning me. I had no fight left, nobody came to help me, I just couldn't stop him. I pleaded one more time with my soon to be rapist, "please........just stop hurting me."

"Just don't move, it will be ok, just relax." His voice was calm and almost soothing. Through all this torment I longed for something to take comfort in, with my hope so bleak I resigned to taking comfort in my attacker. Rationality was no longer something I had a relationship with.

He hooked his arms under my shoulders and pulled me up once again to a seated position. I felt pieces of the mirror shake from my hair, and heard them bounce on the counter. I rested my head on his shoulder, wrapped my arms around his body for support and resigned my fate to his will. He moved my panties to the side and started to slowly rape me. I let out an audible sigh as he pushed, almost ironically, gently into me. He grunted and groaned with increased intensity with each inch he buried, like he was savoring the sensation. He continued like this very slowly, almost taking the head completely out before changing direction and slowly guiding it back in. His cock must have been 8 inches long causing my grip on his shoulders to tighten and my legs to spread wider as he pushed deeper and relax my muscles as it came out.

"You ok?" As bizarre as it sounds, I could feel the sincerity in his voice and body as he asked me this. It was as his he hadn`t beaten me at all. It was as if he was playing with my burning desire for sympathy, perhaps he sensed it and was now exploiting this emotion. "Yes, I'm ok," I replied to the man who was raping me.

"You're.....ugh..... really......ugh..... wet," he pointed out as he continued to fuck me. As humiliating as this fact was I wasn't humiliated in the moment. In the moment, everything felt more intense, every motion amplified and every sensation raw. I could feel every contour of his penis, every pulse it emitted as it throbbed inside of me, the void when it was extracted and the shape when it filled me. It didn't hurt, not like it should of, what would become a source of great shame when it was over was overwhelming in the moment: I was taking a lot of pleasure from it. My mind had been reduced to primal instincts and what was happening was the most primal of all.

Deeb pulled my dress down to expose my breasts. He then began to increase the pace. My nails pressed into his shirt and into his back, but not in an effort to push him off, but instead to keep him closer. His cock pushed in and out at a steady pace. My screams of terror were replaced my moans of ecstasy. His hand found the back of my head, pulled it off his shoulder and out mouths met in passionate kisses.

"Fuck me hard!"

With that his thrusts became more frantic and only retained a semblance of rhythm. The trusts pushed upwards and deep into me. His grunts became sporadic and laboured, each one followed by my moan in sequence. It was becoming so intense that I became overloaded with sexual desire. I`d never been fucked so hard in my entire life. At the same time he held my upper body so close that my unconscious, primal feelings completely took control.

"Deeb.............Deeb.........I'm........Deeb........"

"uughh yeahh?" He grunted.

"I'm........cumming.......I'm...... cummmmming...." I announced almost in disbelief as my orgasm that was building hit abruptly and very hard. I felt the nerve ending all over my body surge, the places he beat me pulsed and my moan became a low guttural gasp for air. I'd never felt anything like it. He didn't pause for even a moment, if anything he was fucking me even harder.

As messed up as it sounds to anyone of a rational mind, I was having feelings completely contrary to what was happening. The most pronounced was the paradoxical feeling of safety. I've always been submissive in bed, but I will make this clear: I never wanted to be raped. To me, being submissive meant some hair pulling, light spanking and being taken in submissive positions. An alpha male was a man who displayed confidence, provided for himself and family and cared about women. Both of these notions were being challenged on the counter of that small poorly lit men's room.

My dress was pushed up and pulled down and stained with blood, my stocking were discarded on the men's room floor and my shoes were long forgotten. I had been beaten rather badly and subdued both physically and mentally. The result was a more intense sexuality than I had ever felt. He had displayed his alpha status to me on a visceral animalistic level; I had felt his strength, I had seen his aggression and felt his unrestrained sexual energy. Being held close, the kisses landing on my neck, his dominance over me gave me a bizarre and completely irrational feeling of safety.

My first orgasm was followed by two more of equal intensity. I was in no position to refute his cruel taunting. "You're such a fucking slut!" he debased me and continued to shame me verbally. "You love my cock....................say it.............say you love my cock."

I didn't respond. "Say it you fucking whore.................say you love my cock!"

"I love you're fucking cock!" I said in one breath as my fourth orgasm hit.

The pace slowed down, the trusts were just as hard but more deliberate. He would push hard all the way into me and hold it briefly, pull out and then slam hard back in. This happened five or six times until I instinctively wrapped my legs around his body as he emptied his sperm into me. With my legs wrapped around his midsection he picked me up off the counter while I held my arms around him as close as I could. We stayed locked in this position for what felt like a long time, until he lifted me enough for his penis to fall out of me. He sat me back on the counter and exhaled with a big sigh.

I was still trying to catch my breath as I looked around to take an inventory of my surroundings. It was a complete mess, I was a complete mess and he was a complete mess. The mirror was broken and cracked where my head hit it, there was blood smeared everywhere, looking most pronounced on the white sink, the towel dispenser was unhinged, broken and the soap dispenser was bent and broken. Deeb's clothes were dark red with blood, his temple was still bleeding, he had various other scratches all over his face and arms and his hands had bite marks from my desperate attempt to stop his advance.

As for me, I was in worse shape than I realized during the attack. I looked into the fragmented mirror and saw that my lip had swelled like a balloon and the side of my face was red. I felt the back of my head finding small pieces of glass from the mirror and more red stuff. For the first time I noticed my thighs, they had been scraped and bruised from all the struggling and fucking on the hard counter's surface. When I tried to stand up I noticed just how much the lip of the sink had hurt my lower back and tailbone. Still I wasn't feeling pain; the endorphins released during my orgasms were still circulating my body, which led me to my other problem.

Mentally, I was no better off. I felt alienated from the self that I had known before I stepped into that washroom. I wanted to chastise myself for my reaction to the rape. I felt guilty, confused and embarrassed. I had begun to ask the questions: At what point did I become a willing participant? Was it back in the conference room? Was it the moment I stepped into the washroom? Was it after he had put his dick into me? Was I still a willing participant?

The last of these questions needed an immediate answer. I had to know in my own mind if I was going to help clean this up; if I was going to lie about my bruises; if I was going to help him get away with this and if I was going to let myself get away with this. Get away with taking pleasure without the responsibility of choice, putting the complete burden of choice on him and in the most sick and twisted way possible being glad he made it. I've always been a sexual person, but I had never known sex could be like that. The circumstances could never be re-created with permission, the danger, being right on the edge, the intensity and the extreme risk he took just to get inside of me. He risked basically everything he had, his job, his freedom and his social standing just to fuck me. That was just one more thing that made my head spin with egotistical bliss. Of course I would help him clean up, of course I would cover for him and deep down I knew that if he wanted me he would have me again.