Faulty Logic

When he reached the door to Apartment 6F, he was breathing hard from nerves and from excitement. Hand shaking, he had to try twice before getting the keys in the locks, wincing when metal scraped on metal. He then peeked through the few inches allowed by the security chain. The entryway was lit by a single bulb but, to his relief, the room beyond it was dark and silent. He took out his trusty tool and cut the chain.

He was inside her apartment and was soon in her bedroom. It was dark but the darkness wasn't a complete one. Obscured moonlight shone in through lacy window curtains. The room's air conditioning unit was turned on low, making him shiver after the heat outside and in anticipation.

He could see little mouse lying under the covers of a queen-sized bed. She was on her back, her right hand lying on the pillow by her head and her left arm flung outward, her hand hanging off the edge. He stood at the side of the bed, her curled fingers an inch or two away from his knee. He gazed at that hand, remembering its softness and imagining it wrapped around the erection building in his pants.

He abruptly pulled himself out of the fantasy, not wanting to waste time with it when reality was lying helplessly right in front of him. His anxiety vanished. Anticipation building, he put his bag down within reach. Then, in one motion, he held her down.

Her eyes snapped open. Mouth covered, she screamed through her nose. She bucked, twisted her hips and shoulders and beat her legs against the bed. Even intoxicated, his strength exceeded hers and he easily rode through her struggles. Then, exhausted, she lay still.

He brought his face close to hers. Quietly, he asked, "Do you know what's happening here, little mouse?"

As much as she was able with his large hand clamped over her mouth, she silently answered no. He clucked his tongue in disapproval. "Come on, little mouse. You're a smart girl. Do you know what I'm going to do with you?"

She blinked and a tear slid down to soak the hair trapped beneath her head. That was his answer. Next, he told her, "I don't want to hurt you. Fuck you, yes. Hurt you, no. I have a knife but I don't want to use it. So don't scream and don't try to escape. Understand?"

Her head moved infinitesimally up then down. Eyes narrowed warningly, he slowly released her mouth. Her lips trembled but stayed closed. With a nod of approval, he reached for his bag and the rope inside. Her eyes widened when she saw it but didn't make a sound. He tied her wrists together and tethered them to one of the wooden bars of the headboard. Convenient that.

He left her legs untied so he could maneuver them however he wanted. He then turned on the bedside lamp, wanting to see everything more clearly. The covers were nearly off after her earlier struggle and he removed it completely. She was wearing teddy bear pajamas, which had him snickering and her blushing in embarrassment.

When he started to unbutton her top, she whimpered. He hesitated a second but if her unsexy pajamas hadn't changed his mind, her wordless protest wasn't going to either. He continued undressing her and she turned her head away, shutting her eyes.

When her torso was bared, he lost his breath. He could see the veins below the unblemished paleness of her skin, just as he'd dreamed. Her breasts were 34-B's and on her small frame, they seemed huge, far from flat like he'd imagined. And her pencil eraser-sized nipples, if the pencil was an inch thick, weren't brown but a deep pink. They made his mouth water but he held himself back. He wanted to see the other part his imagination might've gotten right or wrong about.

He kneeled at the side of her hip. When he had his fingers in the waistband of her pajama bottoms, she crossed her legs. This was really what he'd brought the knife for but he didn't need it. The cloth was thin enough that he could rip them off with his bare hands. He didn't like the childish pajamas anyway and after this, he guessed she wouldn't either. Sobs accompanied the ripping sounds but, at his glare, she subsided.

Her panties turned him on. They were plain white cotton, so symbolic of her virginal state, of what he'd soon have. These he didn't want to destroy. He rolled them down, lifting her hips himself to do so. When it got stuck at her tightly clenched thighs, he commanded her to open them.

When she didn't immediately obey, he barked, "Now! Or do I have to get my knife?"

She did it reluctantly, moving her legs a mere inch apart but it was enough. He would've liked to keep them as a trophy but didn't have the patience to untangle them from her ankle. He then placed his hands on her inner thighs and pushed them further apart. With a squeak, she tried to close them again but his restraining hands prevented it. His eyes devoured the sight of her well-trimmed pussy as he shifted to kneel between her legs.

He leaned down and inhaled deeply. She smelled clean, fresh. He lightly ran his hand over the short brown curls and she flinched. He looked up her body. She was hiding half her face behind her bent arm. The uncovered eye was squeezed shut and her teeth were bared in a grimace. Relenting, he left her pussy untouched for now.

Leaning over her, he covered her breasts with his hands. Her nipples hardened instantly. He traced a blue vein with the tip of his finger until it reached the flushed tip, where he stopped. His mouth closed the distance to her right breast. He ran the flat of his tongue over the hardened peak and flicked the other nipple with his thumb. At her sharply indrawn breath, her chest rose, thrusting the wet nipple into his mouth and his restraint snapped.

His hands were rough, his sucking hard and his teeth sharp. She whimpered and squirmed. In pleasure or in pain, he didn't know nor cared. He was unaware of time passing as he practically swallowed her breasts. It was only her foot landing hard on the back of his leg that made him pause with a surprised grunt.

He raised his head from a saliva slathered nipple. Incredulous that little mouse would have the guts to do it, he asked, "Did you just kick me?"

When she didn't answer, he grasped her chin and pushed her arm out to uncover her eyes. "Look at me," he ordered.

For a moment, he thought she looked pretty. Her big brown eyes were glazed, her cheeks were flushed and her full lips were parted with panting breaths. He hadn't planned to but, right then, he felt he just had to kiss her. And when she started to respond, her tongue brushing shyly and inexpertly against his, he groaned. His kiss turned hungry and that must have scared her -- that or she couldn't breathe because she began squirming again and that reminded him.

Pulling back, he repeated his earlier question although he didn't really care about it anymore. She answered breathlessly, " I didn't mean to. So-" She clamped her mouth shut on the rest of the apology.

He returned his attention to her breasts but, thanks to her interruption, he was now eager to move on. With a final swipe of his tongue on her left nipple and a pinch of her right, he was back where he'd started. He spread her legs wide and ordered her to keep them there so he could keep his hands free.

She still flinched when he touched her bush but this time he paid her no mind. His thumbs parted her lips and found her sopping wet. He watched a drop of liquid trail down her pussy to her ass until it was absorbed by the bed sheet. Already, a considerable wet spot had formed there.

She shifted on her butt and tried to close her legs, obviously uncomfortable with his silent staring and the vulnerability her position afforded. He could swear even her pussy was blushing.

He blew on her curls and her legs, held open again by his hands, trembled. He clamped his lips to her cunt and ate her out. In his haste to get his cock inside her, there was no finesse to his oral ministrations, all his learned techniques gone. Her moans and increasing wetness told him she didn't know the difference anyway.

Not too long later, he was sitting up again. He reached for the lube he'd packed then spread it on her, the coldness making her flinch. She was so tight she winced when he pushed one finger in. He moved his finger in and out, up and down and sideways, to get her loose and ready for entry. He added another finger and repeated his actions. He put in a third then impatiently pulled all three out after only a single stroke.

Standing by the bed, he took off his clothes, steadying himself with a hand on the wall every time he almost lost his balance. He hurried as much as he could only out of eagerness since she didn't try to get away. She also didn't look at him once, hiding again behind her arm.

Back in between her thighs, he clasped her leg to his chest. Her other leg, with her panties around the ankle, he pulled to drape over his thigh. He lubed up his thick cock then lined himself up to her small hole. He dipped in shallowly with the tapered end, beginning what was going to be a considerable stretch.

The warmth and tightness around the sensitive head made him groan. He wanted to thrust in all the way in one swift stroke but she was too tight for that. He had to saw in and out repeatedly until he reached the barrier. He then leaned forward, bringing her leg with him, which raised her hips at an angle. He held himself up on bent arms on the either side of her raised ones.

"This is going to hurt but not as much if you relax," he told her. "Ready?"

Her eye, the only one he could see, tightened and her whole body tensed up, doing the exact opposite of what he said. With a mental shrug, he pulled his hips back.

Just as he was about to plunge back in, she squeaked, "No, don't --

He pushed through her protest and the barrier and buried himself to the hilt. He clenched his jaw, trying not to cum too soon from the intense pressure around his cock. His muscles shook at the effort of keeping himself still, waiting for her pussy to adjust, when all he wanted to do was thrust and thrust again and again.

A little while later, he experimentally nudged her inside and she grimaced in the middle of a sniffle. To distract her from the pain, he reached down with his lubed hand and started to play with her breasts. He wished he could use his mouth on them again but it was anatomically impossible; he couldn't bend that far, not if he wanted to keep his cock inside her.

More time passed until he couldn't wait any longer. He pulled his hips back slowly. He slid back in just as slow. Doing it again, he told himself to keep being gentle but he couldn't keep it up for long. The next time he pushed back in, his groin slapped hers and her breast slipped free of his slick hand. He stared mesmerized as they bounced.

"Wait. Please."

Her pleas fell on deaf ears as he continued pounding her pussy. Her body strained, her raised leg bending at the knee but didn't have enough leverage. Gripping her hip, he stilled her movements for his vigorous thrusting.

"Please, Mr. Barnes... B-Bill? M-my leg... it hurts. Please. Wait."

His hips slowed as her cries penetrated his alcohol and passion-clouded mind. Understanding her problem, he sat up and put her cramping leg down. He then raised her hips for his thrusts.

He watched her breasts' movement, his cock sliding in and out of her no longer virgin pussy, his eyes switching back and forth. The visual and her squeezing cunt got to be too much. Through gritted teeth, he told her he was going to cum.

"No," she gasped. "Please! Not inside!"

When he didn't stop, she thrashed in panic. It only brought his orgasm that much closer. At the last possible second, he pulled out. Two quick strokes of his hand and he was cumming on her sparse bush.

He had strength left to make sure he wasn't smothering her before he collapsed on top of her, his head pillowed her breasts. His cum smeared on his stomach but he didn't care. His body was satisfied and thanked god his cock worked just fine.

But the peace he found himself in didn't last as he remembered his promise to himself -- to make her like it so much that she'd beg. Oh she begged alright; begged for him to stop.

He couldn't understand what happened. He'd never lost control like that before. He'd been too rough and he'd rushed through everything like a teenager who didn't know any better. Not since he really was a teenager did he let himself cum before his partner had. But not only did she not cum, she'd cried.

She shifted and he abruptly sat up as he was jolted out of wallowing in the feeling of being a total asshole. His eyes whirled in panic until they settled on her ravaged body. Hell, he thought. He was so going to jail for what he had done. He deserved nothing less. But damn if he was going to let the last sex he had with a woman end like this.

Part 2

Her hands were numb and cold at the same time from being tied up and the resulting blood loss. Her breasts were tender and swollen from... her mind shied away from the things done to them and the other part of her that was in pain.

How could this have happened? What had she done to deserve this? Had she unknowingly done something to push him to do this? Most importantly, why her?

She didn't care that other women who'd gone through what she'd just been through have asked the same questions. It happened to her. Was still happening to her, she corrected herself as she glanced with distaste at the dark head lying on her chest.

She'd been a good girl all her life. She had no vices, didn't party, never argued, respected authority and followed all the rules, even the unspoken ones. She had been a virgin through no conscious decision to remain so. Losing it just wasn't as important as keeping her parents proud of her achievements. Besides that, she was aware of her own ordinariness. What was it Mr. Barnes called her? Little mouse? Yes, that described her perfectly. So it was no surprise that boys hadn't exactly been lining up, offering to take her virginity.

Of course, like any normal teenage girl, she was interested in boys and had had a few crushes. She just wasn't obsessed with them like some of the girls she knew and secretly scorned. They flirted shamelessly, letting their grades suffer for their attraction, suddenly changing their style of dressing and wearing makeup just to be noticed. And then she met Mr. Barnes and realized she envied those girls and their courage.

She had wondered why he wasn't married. She didn't consider him a playboy despite the fact that he was the most handsome man she'd ever met and, from the old ladies' gossip, she'd heard of the many different women he'd brought back to his place. So he had a sex life, she had thought with a shrug. It would be weird if he didn't. But he was also kind, smart and funny. He was friendly to everyone, had seemed like a perfect gentleman, and his idiosyncrasies made him all the more charming. He wasn't at all arrogant like playboys she thought were.

She likened him to a celebrity only more real. He was, like, the ideal man. So why hadn't a woman attached a ball and chain to his leg? She assumed the reason must be because the women in his generation were incredibly stupid.

She thought of many other things about him, so much so that she developed a problem concentrating on her studies, something that had never happened before. She would replay the conversations they've had. The smallest things would remind her of him. His smiling face would intrude on her thoughts. And she realized then that for the first time in her life, she was in love.

When she became aware of her feelings, she imagined them being a couple, marriage, 2.5 kids, the whole nine yards. Then she told herself to get real. A man like Bill Barnes would never notice someone like her.

Oh, how wrong she'd been. And how incredibly stupid.

A part of her, a small part, was flattered that he would think her desirable. Apart from the embarrassing scene of him seeing her in her teddy bear pajamas, he had looked at her with pure lust, as if she was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. No one had ever looked at her like that before and experiencing it was a heady thing. It had made her feel so proud of her own body.

The rest of her had been on an emotional rollercoaster ride she thought would never end. There was confusion before fear kicked in then embarrassment. There was a repeat of the three before the pain began and became constant until he finished.

She'd once read that rape victims could separate their mind from what was happening to their body. Abby didn't have that luxury but she wished she had because she'd felt arousal. It confused her, scared her, and she was disgusted at herself for feeling it while being taken against her will. She also thought that maybe, since he was making her like it, it wouldn't be so bad. But then he'd turn rough and the fear and pain would start again. It was as if he wanted to make sure she was almost to the point of liking it and then his sadistic side, which she'd never seen before, would kick in.

Now that it was over, she had to wonder what was going to happen next. Should she go to the police and report the rape? She knew she should but she wasn't sure she could go through the necessary tests and the retelling. But before that, was he even going to let her go?

Just as she thought that, he raised himself off her body. He looked panicked for a minute before calming down and stared at her with sad eyes. She ignored that last part and assumed he was admiring his handiwork. She turned her eyes to the ceiling, not giving him anything -- not anger, not pleading and certainly not pity.

She didn't see the determination replacing the sadness in his eyes. He got off the bed and, despite being tied up still, she had to work at not showing her relief. She didn't care if he escaped, never to be seen again. She just wanted this to be over.

The relief was short-lived. He'd only gone to the bathroom and returned with a washcloth to clean off his spunk. She didn't know what to think about that. She didn't want to think that was nice of him because she knew better to think of him as nice. No, the bastard was probably only removing the evidence.

She felt him remove the underwear tangled around her ankle. Then he started kissing her instep. Alarmed, she raised her head and looked down at him. Not forgetting the knife he had threatened her with, she had to whisper, "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

Her disbelief had her stuttering, "B-but... y-y-you... d-didn't you already...?"

Even after all that happened, she still couldn't say the shameful words out loud. She gestured helplessly with her bound hands. Or at least she thought she did. She couldn't feel them anymore.

"Yes," he answered simply.

"Y-you're g-going to... again?" Again, she tried waving her hand at her own body.

"Yes."

Her mouth opened, closed. Resigned, she laid her head back down. There was nothing she could say to make him change his mind. He didn't the last time she'd asked and she wasn't going to try again. Hearing her beg probably only got him off, the sick bastard.

His tongue was doing extraordinary things to her feet. When he sucked her toes, they curled in pleasure. Distressed that she should feel so, she tried to move her leg but he only pulled it back by the ankle. When he stroked the underside of her knee, her whole leg lurched and he narrowly avoided the knee on a collision course with his forehead.

He chuckled. "Ticklish, little mouse?"

She didn't answer, just squirmed and bucked as he continued fondling every inch of her. He bypassed her pussy altogether though, which was a relief since she was still sore. He dipped his tongue in her belly button while his hands smoothed up her hips and sides until they reached her breasts.