Chapter 1: Rape

(Five years ago)

She was a twenty-year-old junior at UFW – the University of Fort Worth – and was walking back to her dorm room from the pool. She was okay looking, not stunningly beautiful and certainly not plain; she had a good figure and she kept it that way by swimming – for exercise, not for any competitive reason. She thought she was 'average, ' considering that she was a bit of a geek. Maybe a little flat in the chest – only a B cup, not like all those C's and D's that men seemed to like – perhaps a bit chunky in the thigh. The list of things she didn't like about her body was not too long. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was pulled into an easy-to-manage pony tail, which she'd threaded through the back of her Dallas Cowboys hat.

Why did football players and teams wear baseball caps? she wondered for perhaps the fiftieth time. Oh well. It was a Saturday night, and once again, she didn't have a date. Didn't particularly want one, if truth be told. She was wearing jeans, a short sleeve UFW sweatshirt and 'walking shoes' – which were simply regular sneakers with an arch support, if you asked her opinion.

It was just after dark in early April, and she took a shortcut through the campus to stop at the coffee shop, where she was planning to get a coffee. She was jumped from behind, a cloth was placed over her mouth and nose, and the last thing she remembered was passing into unconsciousness.

...

When she awoke, her mouth was taped over and so were her eyelids, so she had no idea where she was. Her hands and feet were similarly bound with tape and she was flat on her back, spread-eagle – she couldn't move at all. She could feel the bare mattress against her skin, so she knew she was probably naked – yes, naked because she couldn't feel any clothes on her at all. She panicked briefly, struggling, trying to get free.

"Good, you're awake," said a male voice. The voice was some distance away. "Now you can enjoy it this time."

She was still instantly, hearing the menace in the voice.

She could feel the mattress depress as he crawled over her. Could feel the stiff prong of his penis against her thigh. Could feel his mouth on her nipple and could feel the hair on his thighs as he plowed her pussy open. She felt every inch as his dick parted her labia. She tried to move her hips from side-to-side as she tried to evade the rape, but he slapped her – hard – across her mouth and cheek, several times.

"Hold still bitch. Maybe if you're real nice, I'll let you go afterwards." His breath smelled like stale beer and garlic.

She wasn't used to getting slapped, and she was very afraid of the implied threat in his words. Implied, shit! He threatened her and she almost peed on herself – and him – in fear but she was held back by the thought that he wouldn't like that much.

She had thought that her first time would hurt. It didn't. She wondered how many times he had raped her while she was unconscious. There was no way to tell.

She decided to stop thrashing in an effort to ensure her survival. She cast her mind about and finally grabbed onto a thought: how would she explain to her parents what had happened. They were from a strict, fundamentalist Baptist background and would no doubt explain to her that it was her fault. That her Godless and immoral ways had brought Satan's retribution to her own doorstep. Her idea of a future didn't exactly coincide with theirs – How's that for an understatement?, she asked herself. Maybe she wouldn't tell them at all. After all, they had disowned her, when at age sixteen, she had – with the help of a local attorney from the ACLU – sued and won her emancipation. Four years later, she was finishing up her third year at UFW, faced with a growing mountain of debt.

No, the small town outside of Lubbock, Texas didn't have much comfort to offer; that line of thought wouldn't keep her mind off of what was happening in this room. She thought about her Senior Project, which she'd already started on. She was a computer science major – one of the school's best – and she'd decided to write a decrypter. More and more programs were being released these days, as machine code only. Some contained code that would decrypt the rest of the program; it would substitute one byte of machine code for another according to an algorithm. Her project would find and use that code to decrypt the program and then render it into human-readable pseudo-code: into C, in other words. She'd work on designing the program that would do that. By the time she was finished with the analysis, she'd be either dead or released somewhere, she figured.

That served to distract her conscious mind from the debauchery that was taking place on her body.

He wasn't doing anything different to her than he had been doing. When he recovered his 'stamina, ' he would mount her in the missionary position, paw painfully at her breasts, tell her that she would really love what he was going to do, and stick it in. He'd grunt and groan and hump at her unmoving form and then – for the tenth time or whatever number it was – he'd deposit some sperm in her vagina. Then he'd 'kiss' her on the duct tape across her mouth and get off. Then he'd do it again in a little while – the time in between was getting longer, she noticed, because she was getting more done on her programming project in the part of her brain that was keeping her sane. Maybe he was coming to the end of his sexual prowess.

Viagra was truly an amazing drug. He'd tried to take a double dose once to enhance the time he could last. That caused him to pass out for several hours – Viagra was initially a blood pressure drug, which he didn't know – and he didn't mess with the dosage after that. One pill was good enough for many hours of fun with 'his girls, ' as he liked to think of them.

But this one wasn't any fun at all. She didn't struggle or squirm or moan or enjoy it; she just laid there like that inflatable sex doll he'd started with. He'd throw her back and get another girl, he decided.

So he injected her with a dose of ketamine, waited a few minutes to be sure she was out, and retied her hands and feet, so she could be moved. Using the lipstick in her purse, he wrote "I'll be back for you another time" on her abdomen. He'd dump her outside the parking lot of the student union on the UFW campus, in the dark hours of the night.

He didn't want any of his swimmers to leak out, because he thought himself a moral man and spilling his seed when the woman was not capable of being bred ran counter to his beliefs – so he ran a couple of courses of duct tape from her navel to her ass. He was sure that she'd appreciate the present he left in her. As it so happened, nature did appreciate it in the way that was biologically intended, even if the woman didn't appreciate it. An egg had just dropped into her fallopian tubes this morning, and by nightfall, she was indeed pregnant.

The rapist was going to a different campus in another town, tonight. He'd look for another athletic blonde of approximately the same size, and take her home to his 'breeding room.' He wanted his progeny to be blonde and athletic.

She was found by a security patrol at 3:22 a.m. The patrol officer took one look at the unconscious, naked woman, taped from eyelid to crotch to ankle and checked if she was alive. She was and was taken immediately to Texas Women's Hospital, which was closest, since it was affiliated with UFW. The ER was fully staffed on a Saturday night – well, Sunday morning, now – and Scott Roberts was the resident on duty.

They carefully removed the tape from the various parts of her body, and Doctor Roberts was actually glad she was unconscious for that. The tape on her eyelids must have been painful to remove, that on her mouth slightly less, and the tape over her pubic mound and pussy would have been excruciating. The patient had obviously been engaged in sexual activity, judging from the inflamed condition of her labia – almost surely a rape, but perhaps not, that was not for him to say. They performed a rape examination and took samples. They took other samples and photos of the message on her abdomen, hooked her up to an IV and left her to sleep. She was obviously drugged – they'd find out from the blood sample – but Roberts was glad that she was alive and apparently not more physically damaged.