I’ve always had a fascination with the idea of being raped. Consensually raped, that is. I’ll come home from work one day, tired and ready to unwind with my latest trashy romance novel and a glass of wine when I’ll hear a noise in the kitchen. I go to investigate the noise as any normal person would when I’m stopped by the sight of a tall, athletic-looking man wearing a baseball cap pulled snugly over his eyes. I don’t know this man but my body wants to.

I open my mouth to scream for help or maybe to ask just what the hell this guy is doing in my kitchen when he closes the distance between us and places his rough hand over my mouth. “Not a word,” he’ll say to me. Scared and yet turned on I’ll mutely nod and wait for what happens next.

“I’m going to remove my hand but you’re going to keep your mouth shut, got it? Make any kind of noise and I’ll make damn sure you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

With a nod of my head I release a pent-up breath as my mouth is free. Suddenly I’m blindfolded, though.

“Now let’s see what we’ve got here,” the man will say huskily. Moving around me he reaches for the buttons of my dress shirt but quickly loses patience and just rips the thing open exposing my cheap cotton bra. “Nice,” he’ll murmur. “Very nice. Now let’s see what’s south of the border.” Dropping to a knee he’ll undo my slacks allowing them to pool at my feet revealing my unsexy but very comfortable white cotton panties.

Removing those he places a calloused finger crudely between my legs and begins to stroke my inner core immediately chuckling. He knows how much I’m getting turned on by what is happening.

“You’re enjoying this Aly,” he’ll laugh.

He knows my name! My mind races to place his voice but it cannot. The feel of his finger inside of me is too great for me to focus on anything else.

“You ever been fucked while standing up?” He’ll remove his finger and move away from me.

I’ll hear the scrape of one of my kitchen chairs being pulled away from the table and wonder what is going to happen next. I’ll soon find out.

Grabbing me by the arm he’ll lead me to the table and use a hand to bend me over it, kicking my legs apart.

“I-I’m not on the pill,” I’ll inform him. I have no reason to be as it had been some time since my last sexual relationship and my monthly flow had always been good to me.

“Not a problem,” he’ll assure me. I’ll hear the sound of something being torn open and realize it’s a condom. Wishing that I could be the one to roll it over what I was sure would be a massive erection I’ll tense as I feel the tip of my intruder’s penis push against the lips of my vagina.

I’ll gasp as he enters me, driving home in one quick, deep thrust. His balls will rest against my ass as he breathes harshly against my neck, his mouth lowering to place the first of many kisses on the area where my neck meets my shoulder.

He’ll begin to move inside of me. In and out in a gentle almost lazy motion that quickly has me panting and begging for more.

“You want more, sweet, sweet Aly?” he’ll laugh. Placing a firm hand on my back he’ll flatten my upper body against the rough wood of my kitchen table and begins to slam in and out of me so roughly that I reach for the edge of the table to grab onto for balance.

“Is this what you wanted? Hmm?” he’ll pant as he grips and adjusts my hips for deeper penetration.

All talk will cease as we both get lost in what he’s doing to me and before I know it I’ll be shrieking out my release and allowing my body to go limp on the table with him heaving shuddering breaths behind me as he too goes limp.

Brushing my long flaxen hair out of the way I’ll feel him kiss my sweaty neck as he pulls out of me, pulling me to a stand. He’ll wrap his hands around my waist he and lift me onto the table as he pulls off my blindfold.

“Hey Aly,” he’ll say to me.

“I should have known it was you,” I’ll reply back with a scowl on my face. I won’t be too mad though.

The sex this time, between my intruder and I, will be slow and sweet, bringing tears to my eyes which he’ll gently kiss away.

We’ll eventually move to my bedroom for rounds three and four and, well, that’s where things will start to get kinky.

But I’ll share that with you some other time…

Thanks for reading!

“It’s okay Spence,” Bryan cajoled. “You’re safe here. Just let Jacob cuff you. He has a thing for handcuffing women,” he joked obviously in an effort to calm me down.

Cuff me? I looked closer at the item in Jacob’s hands and realized it was a set of sterling silver handcuffs with a seven or eight inch long chain between the cuffs. So Jacob wanted to cuff me…which would leave me unable to fight him when he went to rape me.

I could not let that happen.

“Don’t touch me!” I yelled shrilly. My back was against the closed door of the brothers’ office and I quickly scrambled for the handle, hoping to escape before Jacob could reach me.

But I was too slow.

Jacob effortlessly spun me around to face him grabbing my wrists in his hands. Opening one of the cuffs he tried to snap it around my wrist but I was too fast for him. I stomped on his foot just hard enough to distract him once again reaching for the doorknob.

With an angry growl Jacob stopped me this time by placing an arm around my stomach and hugging me to him as his other hand reached for one of my wrists.

I continued to fight Jacob completely ignoring Bryan’s pleas for me to calm down and give in.

“Just submit to me, slave,” Jacob grunted as he avoided my elbow to his stomach.

“Never!” I wasn’t really sure why I was fighting Jacob as much as I was but I couldn’t stop myself. I knew I couldn’t let Jacob get those cuffs on me.

“Enough of this,” I heard Mitchel mutter. He quickly joined us, grabbing me roughly by my upper arm. His hand slid down my arm then until it reached my wrist which he then brusquely twisted behind my back. “Are you going to behave now?” Mitchel asked me with an upwards yank of my wrist.

“You were going to say that Harold raped you, am I right?” Jacob’s voice oozed with a smugness that made me both cringe and want to smack it right out of him.

Still, I was surprised. Had Harold really admitted to Jacob the way he had treated me all those years?

“Harold said you tended to say things for attention and that you hate to show people the real you.”

“The real me, Master Jacob,” I queried hoarsely. Gone was the urge to cry. Now I wanted to scream.

“Yes. You like your sex rough but you want everyone to think that you’re this shy little perfect angel so you tell people Harold raped you.”

I made a sound of disgust and crossed my arms over my chest. “You know nothing about the real me, Master Jacob. Nothing.”

“I know you were with Harold for almost seven years. If he really hurt you then why’d you stick around for so long? It’s not like you signed a contract!”

“I—”

“Admit it, sweet, fake Luce. You had a great time with Harold as your Master. You left only because he couldn’t stand sharing you with a friend of his any longer.”

“What?” Now I had the urge to laugh maniacally until I could laugh no more. Not that I felt amused. No. I was hurting, inside. And feeling completely torn apart by Jacob’s words.

“You’re such a slut that you loved sleeping with Harold’s friend Kevin, which Harold hated. He asked you for exclusivity and you—”

“You asshole!” I screamed. I rushed forward until I was inches away from Jacob. “You don’t know a damn thing about me! About what I went through as Harold’s slave!”

“It’s okay sweet Luce,” Jacob cooed. “You’re entitled to fuck whomever you want. Not all women are meant to be monogamous.”

“Don’t do it Spence,” Bryan warned me as my hand rose up to slap Jacob’s cheek with as much force as possible.

“She did it,” Bryan murmured. I saw him shake his head out of the corner of my eye.

   “D-did you need something Master Jacob?”

Jacob blinked slowly, silently studying me. “No,” he said eventually. “Did you need anything…sweet Luce?”

Taken aback at Jacob’s husky tone and kind words I quickly shook my head. “No. But thank you, Master Jacob,” I answered nervously. “I-I…if you could let my Lord Mitchel know that I have left the scones he requested in two containers over there on the counter next to the breadbox I would appreciate it.”

Jacob’s eyes followed the direction I pointed and he strode over to the two plastic containers the scones were in, popping one of the lids off and pulling out a strawberry scone which he bit into.

“Will do,” he muttered around his mouthful. “Anything else sweet Luce?”

“N-no, Master Jacob. E-enjoy the rest of your day.” I turned away in a sudden hurry to be free of Jacob’s knowing eyes. The way he watched me made me very nervous, as did the intimate way he referred to me.

“I will,” Jacob answered smugly. He chuckled softly, the raspy sound rushing through me as I continued out of the kitchen with my back to him. I had just exited the room when I heard Jacob softly say, “You will be mine, sweet Luce…all mine.”

What he meant by that I wasn’t sure—nor did I wish to know what he meant. But something told me that I would all too soon find out exactly what Jacob had in store for me. And that something told me it would be the biggest and most scary task of my life. Even bigger than the time I had prepared a four course meal for Harold and three of his friends for Harold’s forty-fifth birthday.