Predator 4

This is a work of fiction. They say every woman has a rape fantasy at some time and this is mine.

It was just after I turned eighteen and I was still living at home and doing my A levels. My parents were away for the weekend and I had the house to myself; I had just had a shower and was on my bed in my housecoat and nightshirt curled up reading a book on the Tehran Conference for my History A level.

Then I thought I heard a sound downstairs. All my senses went on full alert; it could not possibly be my parents. I tried to tell myself that I had imagined it but then I heard the loose stair creak and I began to panic. He was no longer trying to be quiet now and I heard him running up the stairs. My first thought was that the telephones were downstairs and in my parent's room but then I jumped off the bed and tried to reach my mobile phone which was on my desk.

That was when the door opened and the sight of him made me freeze. He wore black trousers and a black sweater with a black balaclava covering his face apart from the eye holes and a slit for the mouth. As he made a grab for me my senses returned and I instinctively backed away but now he was gripping my upper arms and hurting me. I could smell his sweat.

He spoke in that hoarse whisper which I will never forget.

"Not a sound Julie. Do you understand?"

I managed to croak out that my parents were due back at any moment and he released my arms then one hand gripped my face with a finger squeezing each cheek and painfully distorting my face.

"Wrong answer! Your parents are staying with your Gran in Andover. You didn't go because you wanted a quiet weekend to study. They are due back Monday lunchtime."

Still gripping my face he swung me around and forced me backwards so that I fell onto the bed with my gown gapping open. Because I was panting in panic I was aware that my boobs were rising and falling in a way which did nothing to calm the situation.

He was on top of me now.

"When you lie to me you get hurt Julie."

With that he grabbed my left nipple through the thin cotton and tweaked it hard. A woman's nipple is very sensitive and, apart from that, our breasts go right to the centre of what makes us female so an attack there affects us deeply. I suppose it is the same as putting a razor blade to a man's balls.

He put his lips to my face and was slobbering all over me. I could feel his hardness through his trousers and knew that there was nothing which I could do to save myself. Then he used one hand to unzip himself and the same hand went up my nightshirt handling my pussy and feeling my fuzzbush. I know that I was groaning and whimpering and at the same time I was cursing myself because I knew that the sounds which I was making were only increasing his excitement. I wanted to tell him that I was a virgin and beg him to stop but that was hardly likely to reduce his lust.

My nightshirt had ridden up to my waist now and I felt his organ against myself. I had kept my legs tightly clamped together but he put one hand around my throat and told me to get my legs apart which I did. I felt sick as I felt him against my intimate lips and he began to push into my still dry opening. It hurt and I was terrified that he was going to tear me open; I had a mental picture of myself with nothing between my legs but a mass of blood.

And then, of course, he came up against the resistance of my membrane and, with a grunt, he gave a powerful thrust. With a sensitive lover losing one's virginity does not have to be terribly painful but this brute was not sensitive and I felt sudden intense pain deep inside. It seemed to me that his member was huge and that I could not possibly take it. I am sure that I was over reacting but, in that situation, no-one thinks rationally.

My whole vision was filled with this grotesque balaclava covered head bouncing up and down a few inches from my face and the room seemed to be full of his animal grunts and my sobbing. My face and my hair were soaked in his saliva and my whole body was slick with my own perspiration. The ordeal just seemed to go on and on until eventually he gave a great shout of triumph and rolled onto his back beside me. I just lay there with my legs obscenely splayed feeling my whole lower body soaked in my blood and his semen mixed with my own juices. I had a sensation of everything being ruined forever; my bedroom, my home, my body; just everything was in pieces.

He was standing over men now although I had no memory of his actually getting off the bed.

"We shall meet again Julie and you will tell no-one. Not a single word."

He took a white envelope from a pocket and threw it at me then he was gone.

I must have lain on the bed weeping for hours curled up in a painful little ball and towards the end of that time questions began to creep into my mind. What would I tell Rob, my boyfriend, when he found that I was not a virgin? How would I ever clean up the mess on my sheets? Should I go downstairs to see if my rapist had left the front door open? Was he waiting for me down there?

The white envelope was not sealed. It contained photographs. In increasing horror I looked at pictures of Rob outside his house, my mum at the supermarket, my best friend near our school and myself standing at a bus stop in my school uniform. The threat was obvious; he was telling me that he could reach me and my loved ones whenever he chose.

I won't bore you by telling you how I made myself go through the motions of normal life but the horror had only just begun. A short time later I received an email and I noticed that the sender was Abigail who is in my year group.

Of course I opened the mail and I read.

"Hello Julie. This mail is not from Abigail but I had to ensure that you opened it. In future my mails will be headed PREDATOR and you will open them. Now click on the attachment."

The attachment was a video clip. I saw myself on my bed in my white silk pyjamas. My hand went down inside my waistband and it was obvious that I was pleasuring myself. My mind nearly blew a fuse. How could he.....?

The same email contained an internet link which took me to a website advertising surveillance equipment. I found that one could buy cameras which were the size of a pinhead and had a battery lasting about a year. They could transmit their feed to a receiver which might be in a car two or three streets away. He could be in his car outside right now watching me and listening to my crying.

The next night he just sent me a sound file. I was going to just delete it but then I thought of those photographs of my mum and my friends. I heard my own voice.

"I just wondered what time you were going to pick me up tonight."

And the next voice was Rob's.

"Oh about seven, it should be a good party."

I had made that call on my mobile. How could he have bugged my mobile? But he had.

My tormentor left me no rest. The very next night it was a video of my parents preparing for bed. My dad was talking about having the car serviced and my mum was on the bed in her "Mankiller" scanty nightie. She made a MIAOW sound and my dad moved towards her. Everyone knows that their parents have sex but it is usually impossible to imagine it and now I was witnessing it. I wanted to just shut it off but somehow I was hypnotised. I watched, and heard, the whole thing feeling dirtier every moment.

I was fairly sure that the rapist could not have installed his cameras on -- on that night -- but if he broke into the house during a working day when I was at school and my parents were at work he would have eight hours to do whatever he wanted to do. It was a living nightmare. He had stripped away the privacy of my home and my whole life.

For two nights there was no email then there was another video.

I recognised the changing room at school. There were no people but there were bags on the floor and school uniform hung on most of the pegs. Then the door opened and I saw my year group come in, including myself. We all stripped off our muddy hockey kit and headed for the showers. A group of about twenty eighteen year old girls were putting on a strip show for a man sitting nearby in his car and probably masturbating himself as he studied every detail of our bodies. Then the scene switched to the showers and to a close up view of me soaping between my breasts and down where a sweaty girl can sometimes get smelly so she has to work the soap in thoroughly.

Of course there was another mail the next night.

"9pm tonight. I'll pick you up outside the Slug and Lettuce pub. If you let me down someone will get very badly hurt."

(This document was discovered on the victim's computer the day after she disappeared. If you saw a young brunette getting into a car outside the Slug and Lettuce public house on the night in question please contact Hampshire Police)