I was sitting in front of the TV watching some mundane talk show when my roommate walked into the apartment. We spared each other barely a glance, but the tension was palpable. I heard the familiar sounds of her grabbing the cordless phone and locking herself into the bedroom we shared. I hit the mute button to the TV. It was enough so that I could hear every word that she spoke to whomever was on the other end of the call.
"Hey, what are you doing?" she asked... a moment of silence, "No, God I can't stand living with her anymore. She's such a bitch. I can't wait to get out of here next week. Can you believe that she is trying to force me to pay the whole month's rent? I told her I would but she's not getting another dime out of me."
I listened as she continued to bitch and moan about my "unfairness." I grew angrier by the minute. I couldn't believe that she was calling ME unfair. I had been picking up the slack for the utility bills for the past four months. I was so fucking nice to her that I even cleaned out her goddamn cat's litter box. Where the hell did she get off calling ME a bitch?
I was furious. For six months I had listened to her, the spoiled brat, the princess, talk her way out of anything. She was her parent's pride and joy, and she was the snottiest cunt that I had ever met.
A few minutes later she walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to make another "animal friendly" meal. She was all for saving the animals from pain, but I'd seen her destroy her best friend's life with the snap of her fingers. She had about as much compassion as a shark, but nobody knew that except for me.
I walked into the kitchen to get a drink of water.
"Hi!" I said in my super friendly fake voice.
"Hey, how's it goin?" She replied with the same mocking tone.
We stood in the kitchen making mindless chit-chat for a few minutes. I watched her as she prepared her meal. It was obvious to me that she hadn't worn a bra today. She really couldn't get away with it without people noticing. She was too big, I would guess a C cup, on the verge of becoming a D. She always wore her earthy toned sweaters that were bulky everywhere except around her tits. They clung to them, and I always felt that if I looked hard enough I would be able to see her nipples poking through the loose weave of her sweaters. They made my mouth water.
I couldn't explain it. There was nothing extraordinary about her appearance to make me ignore my disgust with her personality. She had plain brown hair, and dark brown eyes. There was nothing remarkable about her figure, she weighed probably around 140... but those tits! They were just so damn perky, it was incredible to me that they could be so big and stand out so straight. I had a hard time not staring at them during most of our conversations.
I ended the conversation. The sheer fakery of it all was making me sick. She was making me sick. I walked out of the kitchen when I heard a knock on the door. I went to answer it and when I saw who it was I had the overwhelming urge to slam it back shut.
"Hi Laura," I said through clenched teeth and a fake smile.
"Hi, Amber. Is Hillary here?" she said with equal animosity.
"Of course. WHY don't you come in?" I said as she barged past me. I slammed the door shut and plopped back down on the couch despite Hillary's glare saying that she wanted me to leave the two of them alone.
"Excuse me, Amber, could you possibly go into the other room so we can talk?" she finally asked when I ignored her glares.
"Uh, let me think about it for a second... NO. I'm watching TV. Why don't you two go into the bedroom and talk?" I suggested.
Neither of them moved from their positions and I ignored her mumbled "Bitch."
In response to my denial to leave, the bitch lit up her cigarette in the middle of the living room instead of going outside. I cranked up the volume on the TV in retaliation. The two of them sat down to talk, despite my best attempts to make it impossible for either of them to hear each other.
I heard most of their conversation. Both girls were majoring in writing at the college we all attended. They seemed to think that they were the only ones in their entire writing class who knew how to write. They talked for an hour in their condescending holier than thou voices, and basically ripped on every student in the class.
I was already pissed off, but this threw me over the line. I had read all of Hillary's "private" writings... so basically I had read the bitch's diary. It made me ill, all of the poetic lovey-dovey crap that she wrote down about some guy named Bart. The girl didn't have one ounce of talent in her body. Everything that I read screamed piss-poor, greeting card crap.
The madder I got during the conversation the more active my imagination became. I watched Hillary as she talked, while in my mind I was breaking her cool calm and yanking her fucking nose out of her head. I wanted to make the bitch hurt. I wanted to make her see her own insignificance. I wanted fear in place of condescension. I wanted tears instead of haughty gazes. I wanted squeals of pain instead of mocking tones.
My thoughts were interrupted when the bitch's friend got up to leave. The bitch returned to the living room after showing Laura out, "I'm going to bed. Turn the goddamn TV down."
I flipped her off and cranked up the volume.
An hour later I turned off the TV not being able to take another re-run. I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth before I went to bed. I stumbled over something. I looked down and saw that the bitch had left her clothes in the middle of the bathroom floor. I was so tempted to put them in the toilet and then piss on them I was so mad. I controlled myself and finally noticed that she had left her panties there too. I picked them up. The crotch was damp from her piss and cunt juices.
Ah, I thought, so the princess isn't so perfect after all. I dropped them back on the heap of clothes, which I then scooped up intending to throw them on her side of the bedroom when I went in to go to bed. I quietly opened the door (don't ask me why I was being considerate, she sure as hell didn't deserve it). The light coming in from behind me illuminated her sleeping form and I saw that she wore only a too small T-shirt and a pair of cotton bikini panties. She must've changed her panties when she soiled these, I thought.
I was about to turn away to go into the walk-in closet to change when my eyes were once again drawn to her tits. They were emphasized more than ever and in the dark room I could see the nubs of her nipples poking through the white T-shirt. My mouth got dry. An idea began to form in the back of my head as I stood staring, clamping and unclamping my legs on my aroused pussy.
I wanted to rape her.
My reason flew to the forefront of my mind and I sifted through all of the possible consequences. I knew that she wasn't a virgin so if I happened to hurt her there was nobody to say that she hadn't just gotten laid by some random guy. Nobody would believe that a girl would rape another girl, and there would be no proof. There would be no sperm left behind to indict me. It would be her word against mine, and nobody would believe that I, a good Christian girl, would do such a thing. It was too easy.
Now was the time for action. I quickly backed out of the bedroom and went to the hall closet where I grabbed four extension cords. I still had her clothes in my arms and I dropped them to the floor and extracted her soiled panties from them.
I slipped back into the bedroom, resisting the urge to stop and stare at her tits again. I tied two of the extension cords to the posts of the footboard and the other two to the headboard. I wanted them ready when she woke up.
I jumped onto the bed, not even making an attempt to avoid waking her. She jolted awake immediately but it took her a moment to figure out what had awoken her. That moment was all I needed. I quickly straddled her chest and used all of my weight to hold her down as I grabbed her wrists and quickly tied them with the cords.
Realization of the impending danger hit her and she opened her mouth to yell at me, I leered down at her and shoved her soiled panties into her mouth making sure that the crotch went in first. Her eyes bulged as anger caused her to writhe about on the bed.
"Now, now," I said as I sat back to tie her legs down. "Don't even try it bitch. God, do you even know how much I'm going to enjoy this? No? Well let me show you." With that promise I reached up to the top of her T-shirt and pulled at the neck. Her head was jerked upwards. I tugged harder and her head flopped back and forth hitting the headboard. I heard her moan just before the fabric gave way and I ripped off her flimsy shirt.
.... There is more of this story ...