Unknown - Her brute master

I pulled the curtains shut and leaned against the wall, trembling. I was breathing hard, as if I had just run around the block. With shaking knees I walked back to the chair and curled up with my knees to my chest.

In a few moments I heard the sound that I had dreaded, and expected. Footsteps softly climbed the stairs and padded down the hall. They stopped at my door. The doorknob turned silently. The door rattled softly, telling the intruder that it was locked.

The turned back and I heard a scratching sound, then a click, then the knob turned again. This time the door opened. He had a key! I knew it must have been him.

"Go away!" I screamed.

He jumped into the room and closed the door. At first I thought he was Latino but he had an oriental look about him as well. He was bare-chested and his skin was streaked with dirt. The muscles on his chest and arms shone with sweat.

"Get out of here or I'll scream!" I said.

"Scream your head off, no one will hear you." One corner of his mouth turned up in a leering smile. "This room is virtually soundproof."

"I'll tell your boss, he'll fire you."

"Tell him what you want, lady. He sent me here."

"But, but… I'll call the police."

"No one will believe you."

He strode directly toward me.

"What do you want?" I was still curled up in a fetal position and felt the fear that my body reflected.

"What I want is the only thing you're good for, bitch."

I got up and ran to the wall, trying to evade his approach. He spread his arms and continued advancing, grinning all the while.

"Don't try anything," I tried to sound as threatening as I could, "I know Karate."

He kept on coming at me. I tried to dodge around him to his left but he just reached his arm out and grabbed me, effortlessly, as if this were something he did every day.

I tried to pull away from him but he just laughed at me. He held me around the waist with his left arm while he grabbed my jaw with his right hand. It was rough and callused, there was dirt under the nails.

He brought his leering face down over mine and our lips met. The sweet smell of fresh sweat filled my nostrils while he pried my jaw open and forced his tongue into my mouth.

I was terrified. Was it just sex he wanted? No, he was lying when he said my master had sent him. He lied when he said the police wouldn't believe me. He didn't want to just rape me, he intended to kill me as well, I was sure of it.

I reached up and dug my nails into in face. I drew down and left four parallel trails of blood from his cheek to his chest.

He screamed in pain and pushed me back, away from him.

He touched his cheek, looked at the blood on his hand, looked at me, down on the floor where he had pushed me. He grabbed me by the lapels of my robe and pulled me to my feet. I tried to kick and scratch my way free of him, but to no avail. He balled his fist and punched me, once, in the mouth, hard.

I tasted blood. Pain shot through my head and took all my strength away. I looked at him in horror. He was grinning again.

"So the bitch likes it rough," he said. He hit me again, not as hard this time but in the same place. It hurt even more. My knees gave way completely and I collapsed on the floor at his feet.

He reached into his pocket and took out a six-inch buck knife. He opened the blade and held in his mouth, biting on the blade like a grinning pirate.

He opened his pants and kicked off his shoes, in a moment he was standing over me, naked, the knife in his hand, laughing at me. I could see now he wasn't Latino, he was Polynesian. Almost six feet tall, with muscles like a body builder, he was a good-looking boy and under other circumstances I would have enjoyed getting to know him, maybe even this way. But not now, not like this. His cock was hard and stuck straight out, pointing at me like an accusing finger. He looked at me with hate and anger in his eyes and voice. He ran his thumb over the blade of his knife.

"So this is the bitch who looks down on poor honest people working in the garden."

"No… I…"

"Shut up!" He reached down and slapped me across the mouth with the back of his hand. "This bitch thinks she's better than other people. She thinks she can order them around. She's not so high and mighty now, is she?"

"Please… don't hurt me. I was just looking… I didn't…" I felt a trickle of blood and saliva run down my chin.

"You didn't. You wouldn't. I shouldn't. Fuck you, bitch!"

He knelt down and touched the knife to my throat. My body went stiff, rigid, as if I had been touched by an electric wire.

He laughed at my terror, a quiet, monotonous, crazy, keening sound. He pressed the blade against my larynx, the cold, sharp steel pinching my flesh. My breath shook in my lungs and my arms trembled. He pushed me back until I was lying on my back on the floor.

"Go ahead, bitch, fight me. I like it when they struggle." He laughed a little louder, a little more sanely, I thought.

He let the point of the knife rest on my throat under its own weight. He drew it down from my throat to my chest. My skin trembled and shook under the cold steel. He traced the inner curves of my breasts. Then he pushed the robe open, exposing my breasts to his leering gaze. I could see the appreciation in his eyes.

He held the knife more gingerly now. He traced the full roundness of both my titties. He flicked my nipples ever so lightly with just the tip of the knife. A cold, burning sensation, I had to look to make sure he hadn't drawn blood.

Despite myself, I was beginning to get aroused. My nipples crinkled up and got hard under his wicked play.

He turned the knife and with a flick of his wrist cut the sash of my robe. He slipped the robe away from my body.

"Look at the little whore!" he laughed loudly, "the bitch shaves her pussy."

I pressed my legs together. "You have no right to…"

"You know what you're gonna get, don't you, bitch?"

"Please, don't."

He slapped me again, the pain flashed warm through my head and chest. It started to reach down into my stomach. My blood was salty in my mouth. I licked my lip and tasted more.

He leaned over me menacingly. He pressed the knife under my chin. I stretched my neck, retreating from the weapon.

"You're scared, aren't you?"

I nodded.

"Think you can get away from me?"

I shook my head slightly, trying to move as little as I could with the knife still pressed under my chin.

"What if I didn't have this knife?" He took it away and laid it on the floor next to my head.

I breathed a little easier, but not much. It was still right there where he could reach it. As if reading my mind he pushed the knife across the carpet, sending it eight feet away. One of us could lunge for it and get their before the other. He was toying with me.

"Go on, get up," he said.

I got on my knees next to him. The robe was an encumbrance so I let it fall from my shoulders. My pale skin contrasted sharply with his.

"If you had the knife, what would you do? Would you cut me?" He said it mockingly, as if I were incapable of such a thing.

I looked at him. Maybe I would cut him, I thought. He has no right to terrorize me. He should know what it feels like to be scared.

"Go on, I'll give you a head start."

He was looking me up and down, imagining fucking me. When I saw his eyes drop to my pussy, I lunged for the knife.

He laughed and grabbed my left arm, twisting it behind my back. I made a fist with my right and landed a solid punch on his eye. His grip on my arm slipped and I made another try for the knife.

This time he knocked me down with an open-handed chop to the side of the neck. He dragged me back away from the knife and threw himself on top of me.

I squirmed and twisted under him. He had to hold both my wrists to keep me from scratching and hitting him. I had my legs together and wouldn't let him get his knees between mine. I started feeling cocky, like maybe I could take this bozo. I brought my leg up sharply and kneed him in the balls.