A NORMAL DAY

By Succubus

Panic crawled around inside of me. It's fingers dug into my guts, twisting and prodding; it's breath filled my lungs, stopping my own breath from coming. I fought it, pushing it down deep inside, using every defense I could to keep control of myself.

A hand pressed down against my mouth, painfully smashing my lips into my teeth. I squirmed and squirmed, but couldn’t escape. Claustrophobia threatened to make me insane.

The smell of cologne assaulted my nose, the world reeked of it. He reeked of it.

I closed my eyes tight, swallowing my panic, desperate to block reality from my mind. Be anywhere else, feel anything else. Just don't be here, now, feeling this hand crawling up my side, this body pressing down on me.

He pinched my nipple in his fingers, twisting it and pulling it far from my body. Up came the panic again, washing over me in waves along with the pain. I screamed. The sound, stopped so well by his hand, was forced back down my throat. There was something horribly frightening in that, that scream trapped inside of me, echoing down deep. I could picture it moving through me, looking for an exit and not finding one, just echoing on and on.

I shook, trembled, and squirmed, but couldn't move at all. Panic welled up again and I thrashed about, wiggling and kicking. He laughed.

I felt his hand, between us, felt him as he shoved my panties aside, felt him fumbling with his pants. I felt as his cock pressed against me, hot and threatening.

I'm not here, I'm not here. Through tears I saw the window, saw the world outside. It looked normal, but how could it be? Everything was different now, it had to be. This couldn't happen to me and everything else stay the same. I willed myself outside the window; saw myself in a normal day, in a friendly chat with the neighbors.

He grunted as he shoved himself deep inside of me. I felt him tearing me open. I sobbed, not from the pain--which, while present, was at least bearable--but from defeat. He had managed to get inside me. Somehow that seemed so important. Somehow I had lost something.

I heard myself cry out as though my voice were not really mine. Part of me had stepped aside, and played audience to my own abuse, witness to insanity. He thrust deeply again, savagely. I felt something give way deep inside of me, felt him take and take and take. I cried, wishing I could stop, knowing my tears only pleasured him.

His teeth bit into me, surely ripping at the skin. I howled into his hand again. Why did he keep hurting me? He'd won, I was overpowered; I was his. Why hurt me more?

His thrusts grew harder, rougher, like he wanted to hurt me more, fuck me deeper, than anyone else had. I watched a bird fly by outside and wished I was it. I hated it too, for never being able to know the pain and degradation I was suffering.

It went on forever, me trying to hide from the horror, him bringing me back to the present with more pain. I lay still, not fighting, hoping he would just finish, praying he wouldn't hurt me more. He took his time, watching me closely, enjoying himself and my tears.

He mauled me and used me, and came, deep inside. The thought of his seed in me, filling me up, swimming in my fertile womb, was a nightmare, playing upon all my basest fears.

He slapped my face, pulled my hair, and laughed as I cried. I looked at him, hatred pouring from my eyes. I hated him; I would have killed him given half a chance.

So why did I feel so alone when he left?