Power Struggle Ch 2

Kyrie could feel the mixture of her fluids, blood and her rapist's cum trickling down her inner thigh as she pulled her jogging pants back on. It felt strange to her to not have any underwear on, but they were ruined when they were cut from her body, so she had no choice.

The man entered the room and spoke “Come with me, I'll take you home.” 'Right' thought Kyrie 'I'm not telling you where I live...' Silently, Kyrie followed him out of the warehouse- she was mildly pleased with herself that she had been correct about where they were- and out into the night.

She had no idea what time it was, but it was still dark. She guessed that her ordeal had been about an hour long, so it should be around 9:00 pm, as she usually left for her run around 7:30 pm and she had been almost halfway through her jog when she was abducted.

The rapist, this powerful but weak-souled man, opened the passenger side door for her. She hesitated for a moment before sliding into the car onto the cold, soft leather of the seat. Kyrie didn't put on her seat belt just in case she had to bail out of the car quickly. The man briskly walked around the front of the car and got into the driver's seat. He sat quietly for a moment, his hand on the wheel. Kyrie could see his knuckles turn white he was squeezing it so tightly. With a sigh he started the car and pushed the stick into gear. At the end of the yard, he asked her “Which way?”. Kyrie thought quickly “Left.” she told him, even though she lived 'right'. After a few blocks she directed him to turn again and then told him to stop. Now they were not in her neighbourhood and she felt that if he came back to find her, he would be too far off to even begin searching.

Without looking at her, the man again said “I'm sorry. I tried not to hurt you too badly. Nothing that I did to you was your fault. You didn't do anything wrong and you probably didn't deserve for this to have happened to you. It was by chance that I caught you. It could have been any woman, but I caught you first.” Kyrie could feel the hate welling up inside of her “That doesn't mean a fucking thing to me. You did hurt me. I didn't deserve it. You are a selfish asshole.”

Quickly she pushed the door open and stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut as hard as she could. The man pulled away from the curb and drove into the night, leaving her there at the side of the road like a used piece of trash.

Kyrie waited until the dark sedan was out of sight then turned on her heel and started walking towards her home. It was a long walk for her and the whole way she plotted in her mind how she would get her revenge on him. Her mind rolled over and over, her anger and humiliation fuelling her rage for vengeance. By the time she got to her apartment building, she had formulated a plan.

Kyrie pulled her shirt off and threw it into the trash then she peeled off her jogging pants, which by this time were stuck to her thighs, and carefully folded them up and sealed them in a zip-lock bag. She stashed them in the top of her closet for later- they were to be the cornerstone of her plan. As she climbed into the hot shower she was beginning to feel more and more confident of her plan. As she washed the sticky cum off of her legs she played out her plot over and over again trying to find any flaws. Kyrie was sure she had this man pinned down. He was going to pay for what she had to suffer through.

The next morning, Kyrie went to the women's health centre and got the 'morning after' pill, cautiously citing her reason for needing it as 'contraceptive failure'. She didn't want to have to explain herself to any doctors or police, oh no, she had a better plan than that.

Kyrie resumed her life to the best of her ability, but things would never be the same for her. She went through the motions at her job, a career that she once loved. The theatre had been her creative outlet and sanctuary for most of her adolescence, a place where she thrived. Now, she was consumed by vengeance and hate. Completely distracted from her passion, planning the dish best served cold.

The next month, Kyrie carefully clipped out a piece of her jogging pants and took a picture of the piece missing from the pants. She then sealed the photo and the piece of cloth in an envelope and stuck it into her purse. On her way to the theatre where she was the director, she stopped into the tower where she knew her rapist's office was located.

It took all of the courage she could muster to tell the reception desk who she was there to see and the ride in the elevator seemed like it took an hour, even though it was only a few seconds. She drew a deep breath and held it as she stepped out of the elevator and into his office suite. There he sat, in his glass enclosed corner office, oblivious of her presence. She had made an appointment to see him, but her name would mean nothing to him yet.

Closing her eyes, Kyrie prayed that she wouldn't be sick when she was face to face with her rapist again. She always felt a wave of nausea when she heard his name on the news or saw his face on the front of the gossip magazines. She padded across the foyer of the office to the secretary's desk and told her that she had an appointment and gave her name. The blue-eyed, blonde secretary with her perfect manicure smiled politely at Kyrie and told her that she could go into the glass office.

Kyrie stood at the big mahogany door with her hand on the polished brass handle. Her eyes were closed, but her heart was pounding and her head was spinning. She took a second to rehearse what she was going to say for the millionth time in her head. She slowly pushed the heavy door open and slid into the office. As the latch clicked shut behind her, her rapist looked up from the stack of papers that he had been reading. He recognized her immediately. How could he forget?

The colour drained from his face and she could see a shiver run down his spine. Kyrie could feel a smirk begin on her lips and spread to her soul. This was the exact reaction that she had been hoping for- fear. Full of confidence and vengeance, she glided from the doorway to his desk, reached into her purse and pulled out the envelope. Kyrie tossed it onto the desk on top of the pile of papers and sat down in the plush chair across the desk from her now-victim.

The man continued staring at Kyrie for almost a minute, trying to absorb the severity of this situation. He redirected his attention to the envelope that she had tossed casually onto his desk and opened it, carefully analyzing the contents. He gently set it back on the desk and returned his gaze to Kyrie. “What do you want?” He asked. “For you to rot in Hell.” Kyrie responded venomously “But that time will come. For now, I want money.”

Her rapist- now her victim- reached into the top drawer of his desk and withdrew a chequebook. “How much?” was all he said. Kyrie was momentarily shocked at the lack of resistance from him. “ I want ten cheques, each for $10 000, made payable to me.” She had carefully planned out this extortion, researching the amounts which would send up warning flags at the banks. There was scepticism in his icy blue eyes, but he quickly scrawled off the ten cheques and handed them to her. He then got up from behind his desk, strode over to the door and opened it. As he stood in the doorway, he loudly asked “Now, will there be anything else?” Kyrie meekly stood and skittered past him “No. No...” she stammered.

On the ride down the tower elevator Kyrie berated herself. How could she have let him do that to her? Fuck. He took control of her again. After all of her careful planning, he got the best of her! She turned and went back to her apartment, instead of the theatre.

When she got home she went into her closet and pulled the plastic baggie containing her jogging pants out and threw it onto the bed. She had no choice now but to go to the police with her story. She hadn't made him suffer the way that she had planned so carefully so now she had no choice but to ruin his life publicly.

As she stormed about her apartment there came a knock at the door. Without checking the peephole she opened the door. There he stood. She tried to close the door, but opening it was her fatal mistake. He pushed through the door and grabbed her by the throat. She tried to scream but it only came out as a gurgle. “You wanna play dirty?” He asked rhetorically “ I'll fucking well show you...you can keep the money, but I'm going to get my hundred grand's worth out of you!” He dragged Kyrie into her bedroom and tossed her onto her bed, grabbing the bag with the pants at the same time. “So, the evidence, eh?” He said and he threw the bag out the bedroom door into the living room.

“Scream and I'll cut your throat.” he threatened. Kyrie had heard this from him the last time and didn't dare test his resolve. “Please, please!” Kyrie begged “Don't make me go through this again!” “You should have thought about that before giving my reception your real name and coming to my office to blackmail me...I tried to be careful with you. I drove you where you wanted to go. I let you live.” He said gravely.

A cold shiver ran up Kyrie's spine and she could feel her blood run cold at the statement of 'I let you live.'. Was he planning on killing her now? 'No,' she reasoned ' he said I could keep the money...he's not going to kill me...I hope.'

The renewed rapist wrestled Kyrie's jeans and panties off of her, despite her best efforts. She had forgotten how powerful he was. He then whipped her shirt off over her head and tore her bra from her body. She cried out as the straps scraped her skin. “Shut the fuck up!” Her rapist growled and he pushed her back onto the bed. He was being a lot more rough with her this time.

He was furious. He had tried to be gentle with this woman the last time he had her. He apologized for what he had done to her, and she had the guts to show up at his office demanding money? That was it. He had been jerked around by women one too many times and this time, this bitch was going to pay! He caught his prey by her ankle and pulled her towards him on the bed. He climbed on top of her and pinned her down using his weight, controlling both of her wrists in one of his large hands. With his free hand he popped open his trousers and freed his throbbing member.

In one mean thrust he forced half of his length into her. She cried out sharply. The pain emanating from her most delicate body parts was overwhelming. Tears welled in her eyes and she began crying and begging for him to stop. “Not a chance.” He hissed into her ear as he withdrew from her and drove in again, this time his whole shaft was buried inside of her. She screamed in pain and he clamped his hand over her mouth. “Scream again and I'll cut your throat.” He threatened once more.

The rapist began pulling out and slamming back into Kyrie. Again and again and again, gaining more and more force with each stroke. His eyes rolled back into his head. He had forgotten the pleasure in the power. He was determined this time to fuck her on his terms, not to lose out to his own body. Kyrie's senses were overwhelmed, the pain became worse and worse with every passing second. She was regretting now her plan for vengeance, which had so viciously back fired on her. She moaned into his hand and tears rolled down her cheeks. She tried to raise her hips to gain some relief from the pain, but there was no way for her to move under the weight of this attacker.

Kyrie tried to retreat to a pleasant place in her mind, as she had the last time, but there was no escaping this torture. The rapist lowered his head and seized a mouthful of her breast between his teeth. He bit down, not hard enough to draw blood, but just enough that he could tell by her squeal through his hand that it hurt.

'I'll teach this bitch.' he thought and continued ramming his pulsing penis into her. He bucked up and pulled her hips to him, releasing her face from his hand. Kyrie drew in a sharp breath and cried out “Please stop! Please no!” His big hand made a loud smack as it landed on the side of her face. He was almost as stunned as Kyrie. He had never struck a woman before, it had never even crossed his mind. He was embracing his role- truly in control of himself- and he was ready to burst.

Kyrie was silent apart from the quiet noises forced out of her by her rapist's plunging into her. When his massive hand hit her face she saw stars and her ears buzzed. As her senses returned to her she could feel that the motions of her rapists body had changed. He was moving in shorter, quicker strokes and she was thankful that the end was drawing near. Kyrie began to relax and steel herself for her rapist's climax, praying that it was going to bring this ordeal to an end.

The man had one thing on his mind as he drew closer and closer to coming- something that he always wanted to do, but never had the courage to ask for. To Kyrie's surprise and chagrin, her attacker pulled out of her body, but before she had time to process what was happening, he picked her up by of a handful of her hair at the back of her head and he drove the whole length of his engorged rod down her throat. Shot after shot of semen jetted down the back of Kyrie's throat. She struggled silently against his strength, unable to make a sound, trying to push him away so that she could catch a breath. He arched back in absolute bliss, coming for what seemed like forever.

When he was finally spent, he pulled his shaft from his victim's throat and she collapsed on the bed gagging and gasping for air. He laughed a dry, cruel laugh and lowered his face to meet hers. He looked her square in the eye and said in a menacing tone “Learned your lesson? Don't come around me again. Take the money that I gave you and fuck off. Move away, or I'll come for you again. Understand?” Unable to speak, Kyrie nodded tearfully, choking for breath.

The man stepped off of the bed and buttoned his pants. On his way out the door, he picked up the plastic bag with the proof of his previous sin and whistled happily as he returned to his normal life.

Life for Kyrie would never be the same. She resigned as the theatre director and cashed all ten cheques, one at a time. She sold all of her furniture and packed her bags, leaving the life that she had known behind and forgetting the person that she used to be. Moving across the country and settling into life in a small town was perfect for Kyrie. She started breeding Dalmatians for a living, finding comfort in the puppies and non judgemental companionship of her dogs.

This is the new life I lead.