Chapter 1

The location was very carefully cased; the woman was the luck of the draw. I got up and slipped in behind her at the entrance to the hallway that led to the restrooms. The hallway had this jink in it that masked the restroom entries from the main room; I'd examined it very carefully over four visits in the previous month for surveillance, going so far as to actually stick my head in the Ladies Room to check the layout and to see if there was a camera in the hallway that would bring that move to someone's attention -- someone who no doubt would ask me to leave, but would reveal the dangers of doing anything more criminal. I took my time, too, on that occasion, scanning the whole Ladies Room for threats with the door hanging open. I saw nothing. Then I actually went in and went over the place, looking at the smoke alarm and the vents -- you name it -- for threats. Two poor women had to suffer outside the locked door -- or maybe one came back twice -- while I unscrewed vent covers and shined a flashlight here and there. Nothing. Then I went back to my seat and spent an additional thirty minutes waiting to see if a manager was going to accost me. Still nothing.

In the interim, I had returned once to see if someone had caught me on a delayed scan of the videotapes. Apparently, they hadn't. That cleared the decks for today...

The pickings were a bit more limited than I would have liked, but the timeframe was specifically planned -- around two in the afternoon, when the traffic was low and there were only a few unhurried patrons. So, after a couple of fits and starts and at least one wave-off that was purely a product of nerves, I'd settled on a woman and was in the hallway behind her.

She wasn't tiny. She was in her twenties, somewhere, with one of those smiling chubby cherub faces with the upturned nose that was, well, maybe just a bit beyond into hog-nosed. She had big round hooters displayed in a peasant blouse, big feet in fancy flip-flops, meaty calves and thighs, and her jean skirt fit like skin over a good-sized ass. Hell, she probably outweighed me, but there really wasn't anything else in the place under forty, it seemed like.

If she'd looked behind her, I'd have gone on to the Men's Room and then probably called it a day and left -- but she didn't so I let her open the door and step inside and start fumbling for the light switch before I whipped the drawstring bag over her head and pushed her. Putting her on the floor took nothing more than a leg in front of hers as she staggered forward; I rode her down and pinned her there, one knee in her back, while I covered her nose and mouth to keep her from alerting anyone with a scream. Behind us, the automatic door closure hissed and the door closed, masking us from all view.

I was a LEETLE nervous -- this was my very first rape -- so my voice was a little off when I said, "You've got choices -- the first one of which is do you want to live or die? If you want to live, we're going to have a nice, quiet conversation; if you want to die, I'll fix it so you don't breathe again -- ever." I was a regular armory; I had a gun AND a knife. I poked her neck with the knife. "Stop flopping around and shut your mouth and nod -- do you want to live?" She flopped and gobbled into my hand for another few seconds and I rasped in her ear, "Close the mouth -- NOW!" She did and I let go of her nose, and she used it to suck in a big breath -- and I poked her neck again with the knife -- not enough to draw blood. "Stop moving -- before I stop you permanently!" I growled. Dammit, I had to get to the door lock...

She stopped. The clock was ticking ... I pulled my gun with its improvised silencer out of the hidden holster I'd rigged for it and I pressed it to her temple. "I have to get up now and see to it that we don't get bothered. If you insist on moving, I will have to shoot you with this. If you lie still, we can move on to other things -- things you will at least be alive at the end of. Do you understand? No moving -- don't even scratch! Pat the floor with your left hand if you understand..." Her left hand moved, slowly patting the floor tile. "Good. Don't change your mind, because I won't change mine." I got up, lifting my knee from her back, and she was momentarily free while I turned the lock -- but she didn't move. I knelt beside her and covered her mouth. "Okay, I'm back. Put your hands up over your head..." She did so and I whipped a zip-tie over her wrists. "Okay, roll over and sit up." This was a calculated move -- have you ever sat up without your hands? With your feet straight out? This was a big girl -- she probably weighted two-forty or so -- she had to lean to one side on the bound hands, and by the time she was upright, her knees were spread. I circled around behind her and covered her mouth with one hand and placed the other on the inside of her right thigh, just far enough above her knee to ensure that I had her attention...

"Okay, some ground rules," I said. "I haven't gagged you because I may choose to stick any one of several things in your mouth. We might be talking a finger or the barrel of my gun -- or my cock. I really don't care what it is -- if you suck on it, you're a good girl, but if you bite it, you're a dead girl. Are you with me so far? Nod..." She nodded. "Want to try a test? Go ahead..." I picked up the gun off the floor and fed the silencer into her mouth. "It's hard to suck through the bag, isn't it? Let me fix that. Open your mouth and don't move -- there will be a knife wandering around and you've been good thus far, so I really don't care to cut you..."

She sat really still; I could feel her shake as I smoothed the bag over her cheeks, then poked a hole where her open mouth was and carefully widened it. "Okay, testing..." I used the gun again. "That nasty taste is probably gun oil," I related. "Are you sucking?" She made a loud sucking noise with her lips around the barrel. "Good girl!" I withdrew the gun and knelt there, wondering how long I had with her...

Now, you might be wondering, 'You seem like a nice sort -- why are you terrorizing a woman and planning to rape her?' Well, the whole thing boils down to the old adage, 'Nice guys finish last.' You see, I'm not physically remarkable or socially gifted. I'm out of school. Approaching a woman in the workplace is opening yourself up for a sexual harassment charge -- AND I HADN'T HAD PUSSY IN YEARS!!!!! Desperation will cause you to do crazy things, and I was desperate like nobody's business! Did I want to hurt this silly bitch? No, I wanted to fuck her! But I was carrying a lot of anger at the female half of the human race, and if she gave me any shit, I could probably follow through on my threats to kill her. Yeah, I said 'probably.' If it was life or death -- mine -- well, I would feel bad later, you know? But that wouldn't help her.

"Now," I told her, "we're going to get to know one another. Raise your arms -- I want to pull your blouse up over your head and get to know those fine looking hooters. You knew THAT was coming, right? Just nod..."

I undid the brassiere, rather than going Rambo and cutting it. Some things just seem to me to be a stupid idea. The tits were nice; I'd have probably played with them all afternoon, given the time. They were big and round and soft and she had big pink areolas that wrinkled up as her thimble-sized nipples firmed and lengthened, growing magically to a good half an inch from being barely visible bumps. "Are you cold?" I asked. "Scared, maybe?" She nodded. "It does wonderful things for your nipples." I squeezed those orbs and fondled them, husking, "Damn, if I had the time, I'd play with those all afternoon." She sat there, her blouse bunched over her forearms, sniffling a little.

The clock was ticking. At this hour, per my timings of things, I might have twenty minutes before the door rattled. After that, things could go any way at all from some bitch urgently pounding to a more decent sort leaving us in peace for another ten minutes or so. I reached into my victim's lap and unsnapped her jean skirt. "I really need to get to know the rest." I stood behind her. "Stand up for me. Kick off your flip-flops -- it's time for you to dance." She got her feet under her and stood; I reached in and lowered the zipper on the skirt and worked it over her hips. The silly bitch probably could have caught me up in a bear hug or something and screamed -- but I was holding the knife, so she would have gotten only one shot in, even though my getaway would probably been screwed and I'd have ended up dead in a hail of police gunfire somewhere close by. As it was, the skirt settled to the floor, and I stood there, gazing at her. "Damn, Baby! A thong? I swear to God, you're an incitement to riot!" Yeah, shit, she had a belly -- but it wasn't that bad and I didn't give a fuck. I circled her and rubbed her ass, grabbing a big handful for a squeeze, loving it. "Spread your legs some, Baby," I told her, and slipped my finger under the vertical strip of the thong and ran it all the way down until my knuckles were in her split. "Spread a little wider and bend forward, Baby -- I need to get a look at that pussy!" It was cute -- not as big as I expected, with little brown wispies growing along her outer lips. I put my thumbs on her outer lips and popped her open like a peach; there was a clit there, under the hood, but I didn't expect it to get happy and come see me. "Very pretty!" I rubbed the crinkle of her anal ring gently -- not poking it -- and watched her ass cheeks clench. "Not today, I think. Okay, stand up and pull the feet in some..." She did and I dropped the thong to her knees, where it snagged. "Let it go," I directed, and she opened up and let it settle to her feet. "If I thought it was safe, I would keep that as a souvenir -- but I don't. Kick it away." She did so. "You be fine, Honey -- you be fine as Hell. I REALLY didn't expect to find this under there. I wish I had you somewhere more comfortable, because I damned sure would like to have taken my time ... Kneel for me and stick out your wrists, I'm tired of looking at your top draped on you like that."