I scroll back up to the first page of the document and quickly read through the three pages again. I’m tired. Officially my working day has stopped three hours ago. Before I can go home, these reports has to be done, since the deadline is tomorrow morning at 9am. I hit the print button and walk to the printer to get the report. Back at my desk I read through it one more time. I lean back in my chair, close my eyes and sigh. I could feel the fatigue in my in every fiber of my body.
“Let’s get this done,” I whisper to myself as I sit back up, compose an e-mail and send the last report to the reviewing committee. I close all windows on the screen and sign off. Grabbing my bag and coat I head for the office door. As I reach for the door, everything turns black. It takes a couple of seconds before I realize that there must be a power failure.
“Dammit,” I mutter, “just what I need.”
In the pitch-black darkness I feel around to find the door knob and turn it. I would have to feel my way through the dark hallway to the stairway and down towards the parking garage in the basement of the building. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the faint green light at the end of the hallway, It is the emergency exit light above the door to the stairway. I suddenly remember that these lights are in the stairway too. Once I get to that door, it will be much easier to make my way down to the basement.
Five steps towards the green light, a hand suddenly covers my mouth and an arm wraps tightly around my waist. I am pulled against a hard, muscular body. I scream, but it has little effect with the hand muting the sound. I kick backwards and try to pull myself free, but the man behind me is much bigger and stronger than I am. He pulls me backwards with him, dragging my feet along. Both my shoes slip off my feet. I keep on screaming and kicking and fighting, but to no avail. The vice grip around me does not slacken for one single moment.
He pushes me down on the floor and straddles my back. My legs kick aimlessly, not touching anything. He removes the scarf around my neck and in one smooth movement he gags me with it. The thick scarf makes it impossible for me to get out more than a high-pitched grunt. He pulls me up and walks me towards my desk. How he is able to find anything in the pitch-black darkness is beyond me, but that thought only crosses my mind for a split second. Other things demand the attention of my brain. He pushes my upper body down on my desk, keeping my arms pinned behind my back with one of his big hands. I try to fight, but with my arms bent and my hands pushed towards my shoulder blades, I only manage to hurt myself.
When I feel him reaching for the hem of my skirt, I scream. My throat hurts, but it does not keep me from screaming even louder. The faint sounds emanating from behind the gag do not stop him from pulling my skirt up over my buttocks and discovering that I was wearing stockings, a garter belt and a thong.
From only this sound I have no way of recognizing this man by his voice. The sound sends shivers down my spine and somewhere in the deepest cavities of my brain the question briefly forms again: How could he even see my almost naked bottom?
His hand appreciatively strokes over my buttocks. I felt the wetness build between my legs and hate that my body seems to betray me. I try to move my legs, but just as he is pinning my arms behind my back, his knees are keeping my legs far apart, pinning them against the closed side of my desk.
I scream when his hand came down hard on my left buttock. Over and over he smacks me. Right. Left. Right. Left. My flesh burns – not only from the hurt, but from an intense desire. I hate myself. I hate my body. I don’t want this. I want this. No, I don’t! Oh yes… I do. No! Suddenly he grabs my thong and pulls it aside. In a flash he pulls his zipper down, his cock out and slams it deep into my wet pussy.
He fucks me hard as I scream behind the gag. I try to fight him, but not for long. Something changes. There is something familiar to this fucking. This is a rhythm I know. He slams into me a couple of times and then slows his pace, keeping his hard cock deep inside me before pulling it out slowly and slamming it in hard again. My brain starts working again: Can it be that two men have the same way of fucking a woman? I suppose it can. What are the chances that two men with the same rhythm fuck me?
Knowing how slim those chances are, my body relaxes as my brain convinces me of the truth. I push myself on my tiptoes to accommodate his thrusts. I am not fighting him anymore. His grip on my arms is not as tight anymore. I meet each of his thrusts and feel my orgasm building.
I am no longer screaming. The only sounds that can be heard are his grunting as he fucks me and my moans of lust. My back is arches. My pussy welcomes each of his thrusts. He thrusts into me a couple times more before my orgasm explodes between my legs. My contracting muscles sends him over the edge, as it did so many times before. We are both still for several minutes after our orgasms.
“Stay here,” he whispers and disappears.
For some moments I panic, but the feeling quickly disappears when the light comes on. I quickly pull my skirt down, suddenly ashamed of my nakedness here in my office. Ben – my husband – walks back into the office and smiles sheepishly as he takes the night vision goggles off.
© Rebel’s Notes
The prompt for this week’s Wicked Wednesday was #What happens next?
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