Trapped.

Warning: Mature Content. Scene of sexual nature.

                                                                                                Trapped.

I walk in the dark streets aimlessly, not knowing where they bring me. Small bubbles of light appear above my head, no, they’re street lights, nothing unusual. Darkness overwhelms me, blinds me from reality, a wandering soul in search of the closest source of warmth. Ripped newspapers litter the streets, I feel bright eyes on me. Eyes that I can’t see.. I smell smoke from the nearby bar, drunk husbands litter the ground as much as ripped newspapers. They make huffed sounds, look at me with hungry eyes, hungry hands, hungry pants. Some crawl towards me, block hurried second-hand cars from turning round the corner, others whistle, as if I was some kind of animal. I continue walking, plunging deeper into the quietest part of the place. I am alone with the wind, I feel its breezy fingers ruffling through my hair, touching my neck, feeling my hips. Closing my eyes, I stop in the middle of the streets, when suddenly two strong hands pull me in a pitch black corner of the street, in between two ancient buildings. My eyes still closed, though harder now, a high-pitched yelp escapes my lips as the two hands began exploring my body to my utmost horror. My breath becomes ragged. And since my back is to the owner of the daring hands, I get to avoid the icy stare of the monster hungry for my body. The cold soul that once seemed to be mine begins to dangerously warm up as I feel the hard, irregularly heaving chest against my back. Slowly, our breaths seem to have accustomed to each other, his going along with mine in unison. Gradually, he places his hands on my silk shirt, unbuttoning it while he removes a strand of black hair from my terrified face. When the unbuttoning is done, my bare chest is revealed, two firm breasts exposed to the harshness of the Winter wind. I feel his long fingers  tracing down from the nuzzle of my neck down to my chest, circling my nipples, playing with them, pinching them, teasing them. I try to get out from his grip but he pulls me harder. How would I have known that my brief rebellion had no effect other than arousing this stranger? He thus begins to touch my neck with his lips. His pecks starting out slow and tender, followed by soft blows to cool the mark left by his wet lips. As his rough, manly hands play with my breasts, his pecks grow to be more demanding, more aggressive. I sense a shift in his behaviour as he begins thrusting his crotch against my back. We thus start this oddly sensual dance in the mysterious night as I still don’t know the identity of this man. I am exhausted by fear, my knees begin to give in. He feels it. My fear intensifies as I feel his strong hands traveling down the helm of my skirt. I scream out ‘No!’ but he does not seem to hear, or care. He pulls out a thick string of rope from his pocket and ties my hands to a pipe running along the brick walls of the humid alley. I hear someone coming, ‘Help me! HELP!’ I yell, but as I see two pairs of paws with green eyes staring at me I realize it was just a black cat. A chilling laughter echoes in my ears. “Hold still.” the monster mutters, “We’re not done yet.”

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