The following story is from the files of the patient who will be referred to as Heather. As part of her extensive treatment at this facility she has begun writing again. Her continued fascination with writing rape and damsel-in-distress stories, her insistence that the following is a love story, plus her recent unproven allegations against members of the staff here at Sunnyvale convince me that she still has a long way to go before we can consider her well enough to be released anytime soon.
Part 1
"The Wages of Sin". These words kept repeating themselves crazily in Rachel's mind as she wept and struggled frantically but in vain against the tightly knotted ropes that held her fast. THE WAGES OF SIN....She could almost see the words in neon, flashing steadily like a warning seen too late. Flashing, in fact, like the warning lights posted on roads at railroad crossings...like the lights she knew must be flashing right now several miles away toward town.
When the steel railing she was tied to began to vibrate, those words as well as all other thoughts, rational or otherwise was driven from her in a flash of white, blinding panic. She tried to scream that a train was coming, but in her extreme terror she'd forgotten about the gag in her mouth that rendered all screams, or any attempt at words nearly useless. Still she tried.
Her eyes, wide and terribly frightened, met his, the man standing over her with a video camera, and she desperately tried to communicate this to him. As of yet she couldn't see or even hear it, but the vibration beneath her neck and elbows, which were tied to one of the steel rails, and her ankles, tied to the opposite one, told her something he couldn't possibly know just yet....the train was on its way...rushing toward this quiet and deserted bit of land he'd brought her to; and if he didn't untie her soon, she was going to resemble something like a squashed bug. A squashed bug with no head, in fact.
He'd always used too much rope during their demented games but this time he'd gone too far. In addition to the ropes that held her neck and ankles firmly to the rails, her arms were positioned above her head--wrists tied together and fastened to one of the wooden ties that were spaced beneath the rails. As an added touch he'd tied her arms at the elbows to the rail that her neck was tied to. That alone would have been sufficient to prevent her escape, but for good measure (and good video most likely), the fucking psycho had also bound her legs (at the knees, calfs and thighs) and her waist to the wooden tie she lay on--the same one her wrists were tied to above her head. Not only would Rachel look like a squashed bug with no head, but with ever deepening horror she realized she'd have no feet or arms either if he didn't put down the goddamn camera and start untying her fast. She didn't know what he'd hoped to accomplish by this, but she already knew it wasn't a game this time.
Rachel's fresh panic caused her struggles to increase, and she writhed and jerked against the many ropes with more intensity. Her frantic cries got louder and higher pitched behind her gag. Her eyes were now wild with fear as she desperately tried to communicate this horrible inside knowledge of the train's immenent approach to her captor, whose eyes were, unfortunately, as wild as her own, but for different reasons.
Total hysteria closed in as she saw that her her increased struggles would not free her, although she thrashed and strained against the ropes with all her strength. She couldn't say "The train's coming" in a way he could understand her, although she was screaming those very words as loud as she possibly could. Frustration and terror combined in Rachel's tortured mind till she thought she would surely die of fear before the train even reached her. Somehow she knew she wouldn't be that lucky.
Max, the man who held the camera and gazed at his helpless captive adoringly was more observant than Rachel imagined, despite the excitement that raged thru him like a fever. He'd been watching every move she'd made while bound to the tracks....the delightful way her delicate limbs flexed as she strained, the small cords of muscle that stood out. He loved the noises of fear that escaped from behind her gag. He'd recorded them before, and brought himself to ecstacy many times while replaying them during his lonely nights without her, but the noises he heard now were the sweetest yet. He observed the anger, fear, and now increasing panic in her eyes....oh her eyes...those beautiful blue-green eyes of hers that had both sparkled with affection for him and flashed fire when crossed...they were so wide now...flooded with tears and nearly mad with terror. His erection was nearly painful in its intensity, despite the fact that he'd just had his way with her after tying her arms and neck to the track....he hadn't meant to; it wasn't part of the plan, but the way she had looked tied there he just hadn't been able to help himself.
He noted the new panic and frantic but useless efforts to free herself--could hear the tones of hysteria in her gagged screams, and knew what they meant. Still holding the camera on her, he knelt down and grasped one of the rails, nearly blowing his load right there when he felt for himself the vibrations. It was still faint, but time was growing short.
On impulse he moved his hand from the rail to the area between her legs and rubbed the spot he knew would be tingling no matter how scared she was. Although he couldn't get up under her dress anymore because of how she was bound, he knew by the way she gasped between screams and by the way her back tried to arch how wet she was again. He knew his Rachel, and he knew that she was aroused despite her fear...and because of it.
Their eyes met again, and it was obvious to Max that their connection was still there and as strong as ever. She'd been breaking his heart trying to deny this. Her constant refusals driving him to this desperate act that he'd planned out with the single-minded obsession of one who has nothing to lose. Why couldn't she understand how much he loved her?
Max moved his hand from her and leaned closer, going in for a close-up of her eyes as he asked her the one question she had to say yes to this time.
"What's it going to be, Rachel? Will you marry me now?"
Her eyes flashed surprise and a hint of exasperation that he was still asking her this. She'd said no to him so many times he should have given up by now.
"Or do I stand back and keep filming?"
His camera caught perfectly the emotions flashing through her eyes now as his words sunk in...more surprise, shock, anger, then outright horror as she saw something in his eyes that told her this wasn't just a mean joke...that he meant it.
"That's right, babe", he said softly. "I don't want to leave you there, and I can't live without you, so if you splat I'll go home and do myself next, believe me.", he said with tears rising in his own eyes, then "well....after I watch the tape anyway", he amended, a slight spark of his old cruel humor slipping thru after all.
Rachel stared at him in stunned disbelief that he would take things this far.
* * * * * * *
Rachel was a fairly recently divorced woman in her early thirties. She was attractive with her long and wavy blonde hair, nice curvy figure and long legs. Many who knew her thought her eyes were her best feature, besides her sometimes oddball sense of humor.
The words "the wages of sin" kept running thru her mind while in her horrifying position on the train tracks because of the sin that had never been found out. She knew, however that it had much to do with the final breakdown of her marriage.
While married, Rachel had an affair with Max....well sort of. Not to put too fine a point on things, their first time hadn't been a typical liason because he'd raped her.
They had met online nearly two years ago and had become fast friends, both of them sensing a connection...a kinship. Max was a few years older than she, and had never been married. Rachel had been married for six years, was childless, and had recently started to wonder why she'd gotten married in the first place. It wasn't an entirely loveless marriage, but it couldn't be called happy either. She and Jeff had been fighting so much that neither one of them had much energy to try to repair things between them. The more she talked to Max, mostly online but a few times over the phone, the more she realized how little she and Jeff had in common. She'd soothed her rising feelings of guilt by reminding herself that she and Max were only friends.
As many online friends will do, they confided things to each other that neither one would want to speak of to anyone they knew and saw day-to-day. They both lived very normal, very routine lives, yet both had secret selves that were very dark and very similar.
"I think that fear turns me on....isn't that the sickest thing?", she had typed to him once.
Max had felt a thrill when he discovered Rachel's secret desires, and how closely they mirrored his own. They seemed to be opposite sides of the same coin. The dark side of her sexuality craved helplessness and fear--his craved a woman he could make helpless and afraid, yet know that secretly he was giving her the greatest thrill she'd ever known. Inevitably, he began to fantasize about meeting Rachel for real. He would look at her pictures she'd sent him and long to see fear of and desire for him in those amazing eyes of hers. Once the idea was in his mind it became a fixation. He was no longer content to just be her friend, although he never wanted to lose her friendship. He wasn't sure how to approach her with these thoughts that wouldn't leave him. He had to have her...had to fulfill her fantasies and his own, yet was terrified of scaring her off.
He got bold and began dropping hints....telling her how easily he could drive to her town and find her. She laughed at first and pretended he was joking, because surely he was; his sense of humor was often even odder than hers. Rachel didn't want to admit, even to herself, the dark thrill she felt whenever he brought up doing this, and he started bringing it up a lot.
Max kept waiting for the night that she would tell him once and for all to knock it off--to stop talking crazy, but he was both puzzled and intrigued that she never did. He began to think, to hope even, that she wanted him to find her....to make both their secret desires come true. He knew he was taking a terrible chance...he could lose not only her friendship but his freedom as well, but he couldn't stop obsessing about it, about her, and it wasn't long before his thoughts turned to actual planning.
Then came the day when Max threw caution to the wind and drove for four hours, arriving in her town by early afternoon. He was off work that day but she wasn't. She owned a small boutique with only a few employees to help her run it and was often there alone. He knew the name of her store, a simple bit of information one friend wouldn't hesitate to share with another, and knew it would be easy enough to find it.
That night when Rachel locked up her store she felt the presence behind her a moment too late. A male body had suddenly pressed against her and the breath flew out of her lungs when she felt the point of a very sharp blade at the side of her neck.
"Don't scream Rachel", his voice was in her ear, giving a command that was quite unnecessary since she had no breath to scream with.
The man had her arm in a tight grip and she could feel him trembling as much as she was. She wondered vaguely who it could be and how they knew her name. Max came to mind, of course....but was it him? Would he really do something this crazy?
"Come on, walk with me...slow", he muttered.
With her arm so tightly held, and the knife still against her, Rachel thought it best to do as he said. His voice did sound familiar. She was dying to turn around and get a look at him but didn't quite dare.
Walking her carefully to his car parked next to hers, he opend the back door of the driver's side, then grabbed her other arm, pulling it behind her. Silent up to this point she'd started to whimper when she felt rope being wound tightly around her wrists. Next thing she knew she was being pushed facedown into the backseat, where her attacker shoved a scarf into her mouth and slapped a length of duct tape over her lips.
"Shut up bitch", he half-whispered.
Before she could even move her legs were bent till her ankles were near her bound wrists, and more rope was quickly wound around them as well, then more around her wrists. Despite his command, Rachel's whimpers increased when she realized she was hog-tied and couldn't move. Unperturbed, he laughed now as a blanket descended over her helpless form. She was in darkness, trembling violently when she heard the door slam, then the driver's door open and shut.
"I've got you now Rachel", the man's voice sounded shaky but triumphant as he'd started the car. Before putting the car in motion, he'd pulled the blanket down from her face briefly and she quickly turned her head to see who her assailant was.
She gasped when she recognized Max from his pictures, although by that time she wasn't really that surprised it was him. The realization that her kidnapper was her old friend and not some faceless random criminal (and potential serial killer) caused Rachel to feel intense initial relief, then anger at him for scaring her so, then new fear when the realization hit her that for Max to have come for her after all, driving all this way when she'd never agreed to it (at least not actively), he must be a real lunatic after all.
Max saw the recognition in his lovely captive/friend's eyes. The brief anger was somewhat intimidating to him in spite of her helpless position--after all he didn't want her to hate him. Then he saw her fear and it pleased him. The devil she always seemed to bring out in him started to caper then...and he wanted to see her even more afraid.
"Yeah it's me....do you know what I'm going to do to you?" he asked pleasantly.
Her eyes widened as she made another fearful noise...unable to answer with words. The sounds she was making behind her gag...the harsh rapid breaths, the faint moaning whimpers, were thrilling him more than he had even expected.
"Only what you want me to do....you want me to fuck you don't you?"
Rachel's noises grew louder and she tried to shake her head in a frantic no. She didn't! She didn't want this and he had no right to just take her like this! She was, however aware of an uncomfortable tingling down below once she realized who it was and that her life wasn't in danger--at least she hoped it wasn't.
As if reading her mind, he spoke again.
"I won't hurt you unless you make me. But this is going to happen."
With that he turned back around, started the car and soon they were on their way. Rachel had no idea where he was taking her. She tried to calm down and prayed it would be over soon.
A short time later, parked off a secluded country road, their bizarre friendship and dark sexual bond was consummated.
Rachel, her arms still bound beneath her, her right leg painfully wedged between Max's urgently thrusting body and the front car seat, was shrieking her outraged protests into the gag that was still in place. Her dress was hiked to her waist, her breasts exposed. They had been rudely pulled thru the neckline of her fairly low-cut dress, the material squeezing them together and forcing them to protrude straight out and unnaturally high on her chest. They had been thoroughly fondled, pinched, nibbled on and generally mauled before Max began plunging into her.
He gripped her hair with one hand and demanded she look at him. Her eyes, which had been tightly closed, flew open and met the ones of the man who was violating her. His smile was cruel--almost a sneer, but she felt a small measure of relief to note that his eyes were not. Even then, she remembered them as having been nearly worshipful. Something had clicked when she stared into his eyes that night, even as he was forcing himself on her. There was an understanding....a communication that was unspoken, more of a feeling than an articulate thought, making the worst of her fear recede for a bit. It was then that she realized with surprise how her body was responding, and before she could puzzle over it much she'd found herself swept away by it.
Max's mind was racing with a combination of excitement and almost shocked disbelief that he was really committing an act of rape. He was also surprised, yet delighted when Rachel's gagged shrieks of terror and protest changed to rythmic and unmistakable noises of pleasure. Feeling a surge of confidence, Max increased the speed and intensity of his thrusts--jabbing into her harder and deeper. He nearly lost control when Rachel responded by meeting his thrusts with her own, straining her hips upwards as her breathing became harsher and faster, the noises trapped behind her gag now like a wild animal's hungry growls.
The explosion, when it hit them rendered them both quite breathless and speechless for a very long time.