Chapter 1

Kimberly Watson had just come home from school and was excited to tell her mother about the upcoming Freshman Mixer that her school was putting on. This mixer would introduce the new Freshman class to the school, the teachers, and give them a chance to reconnect with friends from their old school as well as make new friends in high school. Kimberly – or Kimmy as she liked to be called – was an outgoing young 15-year-old who made friends easily and was always part of any group of kids.

Her mother, Karen Watson, worked as a loan officer at a local bank and was at work that fateful day when there was a knock on the front door of their home. Kimmy went to the door to see who it was and looking through the peephole (her mother had taught her to always look before opening the door), she saw it was a deliveryman with a package. He was in a company uniform so Kimmy felt it was okay to open the door and see what he wanted.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yes, is your mother or father home?” he asked her.

“No, my father doesn’t live here and Mom is at work,” Kimmy said.

“Oh, I see. Well, I just wanted to borrow your phone – I have this delivery to make, but I obviously have the wrong address. I’ll just ask one of your neighbors though,” he said.

“Well, most everyone is still at work. Come on in, you can use our phone,” she volunteered. Kimmy was friendly, but still a bit too trusting and naive. It would prove to be her undoing.

“Honey, I’m home!” Karen called out to her daughter when she came home a couple hours later. But instead of being greeted with her daughter’s usual happy “Hi Mom!” Karen was greeted with silence.

“She must be in her room listening to her music,” Karen said to the empty living room. She headed for the hallway to go tell Kimmy she was home, but she didn’t make it. As she walked past the breakfast bar that separated the living room from the kitchen, he sprang out from behind it. Before Karen could even think, he had grabbed her from behind, one hand over her mouth and the other holding a knife to her throat.

“Hello, Karen. Welcome home,” he growled in her ear.

“MMMFMFFF!” Karen tried to call out. But the hand at her mouth prevented her from being heard more than a couple feet away.

“Now now, Karen ... is that any way to greet company?” he sneered. “Now we need to have a little chat so I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth. But when I do, I don’t want you to try anything funny. No screaming for help, no trying to run off, none of that, you hear me? I’m sure your daughter doesn’t want to attend your funeral just yet, and I know you don’t want to go to hers. Am I making myself clear?”

Karen nodded her head that she understood and he carefully took his hand away. When he released her she turned around to see who this stranger was that had scared her so much. She saw a well-built and muscular man, about her same age but a good bit taller than her. He wore a ball cap as part of his uniform but she could see he had short black hair and a scruffy beard.

His eyes were brown and his right arm had a sleeve tattoo on it. His size and his build intimidated Karen but not as much as the knife he had in his hand. The eight-inch long, single-edge blade shined as the light from the living room hit it, further intimidating and frightening her.

“W-who are you? What do you want – we don’t have a lot of money,” Karen said shakily.

“Legitimate questions both of them. So I will answer them. First, as to who I am, you can just call me Sir. And as for what I want ... well you see my dear, I am a rapist – more to the point, a serial rapist. And I am here for you. I do not want or need your money. I am not a thief – unless stealing your sense of safety and security is a crime. If that’s the case then yes, I am a thief. No, I am here to take what I want from you ... and maybe your daughter as well,” he said.

“KIMMY? NO, YOU LEAVE HER ALONE!” Karen cried loudly.

WHAP! He gave her a backhanded slap that was so hard it knocked her to the floor and made her see stars for a moment. But a moment was all he needed. He reached down and grabbed Karen by her long blonde hair, hauling her to her feet and holding her so high she had to get up on tiptoes to try to relieve the strain on her hair.

“Listen to me, bitch! I am the rapist here, you are the victim. Therefore you don’t make the rules or tell me what I can or cannot do. I AM going to rape you and if I so choose, I will rape your little girl as well. The only thing you can do is be cooperative and hope that by working with me instead of against me, I will leave your daughter alone. Now does that sound reasonable to you?” he said angrily.

“Y-yes Sir,” Karen said still rubbing her cheek where he had hit her.

“Good, I’m glad we are on the same page. Now why don’t you get out of those work clothes and we can get this party started!” he said with an evil grin.

“P-please you don’t have to do this! Please! I don’t know who you are, and I wouldn’t report you if I did. Please just let me and my daughter go! We won’t say anything to anyone!” she pleaded with this man.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that Karen. You see I have a lot of time invested in you that would go to waste if I just left without getting what I want,” he explained.

“What? What do you mean you have a lot of time invested in me? I don’t understand.”

“Oh my dear Karen, I am not your run-of-the-mill rapist. No, those bottom feeders are opportunists – they will rape the first easy mark that comes along. But I am not one of those thugs. I have done quite a bit of research on you, my pretty, and I know a lot about you ... and your daughter.

“For instance, I know that you are a loan officer at First Federal Bank over on Walnut St. and you have been there for about six years. I know that you are divorced from your husband for five years now and he lives in another state.

“You met your ex-husband through a mutual friend and you dated for almost a year before you got married. It was a fairytale marriage at first wasn’t it, Karen – you thought it would last forever. But it didn’t, did it? Now you don’t date or even go out with your friends because you want to be here for your daughter.

“You leave for work in that silver Toyota parked in the driveway around 8:00 am after she gets on the bus for school and you get home around 5:30 pm just like you did tonight. It’s just been you and Kimmy since the divorce, hasn’t it?

“As for your daughter, I know she is a typical 15-year-old girl, a freshman at Lincoln High school this year, isn’t that right? She is a popular outgoing young girl with lots of friends at school, too.

“But you don’t let her date yet do you? No, you want to protect her from the mistakes you made with men ... I’ll bet she’s still a virgin, isn’t she? I know what bus she takes and when she leaves for school and gets home in the afternoon.”

“H-how do you know all this?” she asked, astounded that this stranger knew their lives so well.

“I told you, my dear ... I did my research on you. You see, I’ve been watching you and taking notes on you for almost a month now. You never see me because you rarely look up from what you are doing.

“You are completely oblivious to what’s going on around you so you were an easy subject to study. I know where you shop, where you eat lunch when you are at work ... I know a lot about you, pretty,” he said.

Karen stood there slackjawed as he told her about all the things he knew about her. If this wasn’t such a terrifying situation, she might have been impressed and maybe even attracted to a man who had taken the time to learn so much about her.

But this man was here to rape her ... to force himself on her sexually. He wasn’t there to impress her and he didn’t care if she found him attractive. He just wanted to rape her.

“Please Sir, please don’t do this. Please, we just want to be left alone...” she begged him again. But it was no use.

“Enough talk, Karen. Now, are you going to get out of those clothes, or do I have to see if Kimmy will be more cooperative? Maybe if you watch your little girl getting raped, you might be more willing to trade places with her!” he said.

“No please, Sir, Please I-I’ll do it ... I’ll do whatever you want. Just please, please leave my little girl out of this. Please, Sir!” she begged. She began immediately unbuttoning her white blouse. “See Sir, I’m doing it just like you asked!”

Karen took off her blouse and then as he looked down she took off her black pencil skirt. She reached behind her and unzipped her skirt letting it fall to the floor around her ankles before stepping out of it. She was left with her bra, panties, pantyhose, and heels.

“Okay, now take off that bra and let’s see your tits!” he said, pointing to her black lacy bra. Karen reached up with shaky fingers and undid the front clasp freeing her double-D size tits. But her natural shyness at being undressed in front of this stranger made her hold the bra up, still covering her.

“Now Karen, I can’t see those tits if you are going to keep covering them. Drop the bra and put your hands behind your back,” he said.

With a whimper of protest, she did as he commanded, dropping her bra on the floor and slowly moving her hands behind her.

“Very nice, my dear ... even better than I imagined you looking. I do appreciate your taking care of yourself,” he said, “But I’m afraid I do see one little problem, however.”

“You do? What is it?” she said, looking down at herself.

He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Come over here,” he said, taking her to her dining room table. He bent her over it, pushing her face to the tabletop and mashing her now naked tits against it.

“Now hold still, I don’t want to cut you,” he said. He plucked the crotch of her pantyhose and pulled them away from her. Then he cut a hole in the crotch with his knife before sheathing it again.

“I don’t like pantyhose. I find nothing sexy in them and they are just in the way,” he said, emphasizing his words by ripping a huge hole in her pantyhose. “Now the next time I come to see you, I want you wearing thigh-top stockings and not these fucking pantyhose, understand me?”

“T-the next time, Sir?” she asked, shocked at this development.

“Why yes ... of course there will be a next time. I plan on stopping by for a visit many, many times, Karen my dear. That’s what it means to be a serial rapist – this is not a one-time thing. You and I are going to enjoy each other’s company for a long time to come!”

“Please, Sir ... please can’t you just leave us alone? Please, Kimmy and I just want to live our lives ... things have been rough enough for us. Please just leave us alone ... we don’t want to be terrorized like this...” she pleaded once again.

“I am sorry that things have been rough for you. And I don’t want to make them any rougher than I have to. If you work with me on this, I do believe we can make this considerably easier for all of us. But I’m afraid I am going to rape you, with or without your cooperation – it’s up to you how you want to do this,” he said.

“Please ... please don’t do this...” she repeated.

Tired of discussing the matter and getting nowhere, the rapist was getting frustrated at her. “Okay Karen I’ve told you what’s going to happen and yet you continue to try and change my mind. I’m tired of it. Get undressed right now or I will go into your daughter’s room and see if she wants to be more compliant.”

With the very real threat of him raping Kimmy instead of her looming large in front of her, Karen wisely chose to do as he said. She kicked off her heels and then took off the torn pantyhose, tossing both into a corner of the room. She looked at him once more and seeing his arms crossed and an impatient look on his face, she sighed and hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties, then pulled them down and stepped out of them.