It hadn’t been a typical Monday at work. A fire alarm had seen the entire university outside, standing in the rain while the fire brigade searched the building in vain for the cause. She and her colleagues got soaked in the drizzle and knew they had the rest of the day to get through in damp clothing. It didn’t help her mood in the least.
The drizzle didn’t let up thorough the day. Her clothes were sticking to her, clinging and uncomfortable, when she arrived home. The door was still closing as she began to strip sodden layers off, leaving a trail of wet clothes in her wake. The shower ran nice and hot. Steam filled the bathroom and in crazy rivulets, ran down the glass of the cubicle. Gwen positively revelled as the hot water soothed the trials of the day, washing them, with soap suds, down the drain and away.
Her robe hugged her in warm folds of white terry towelling. Her slippers, complete with furry insoles, warmed her feet. At last, she felt relaxed and comfortable and suddenly, very hungry.
A quick trawl through the freezer unearthed a micro-waveable TV dinner, perfect for her mood and lack of patience, quick and quite enough to fill the void.
While the meal spun and steamed in the micro-wave, Gwen picked up her damp clothes from the hall. Perhaps she should have checked the chain on the door. The damp clothes hit the bottom of the linen basket as the micro-wave pinged.
Gwen pulled the cork from her current bottle of wine, each bottle carried four glasses and took her four days to consume, poured a healthy slug into a long stemmed glass, re-corked the bottle and put it back in the door tray of the refrigerator, making a mental note to self that only one glass full was left, buy a new bottle on the way home from work tomorrow.
The TV dinner, glass and a knife and fork sat on a tray which she held on her lap. Music flowed from the speakers, low, causing a susurration of sound, above audible, but not so much to be distinct. Gwen ate slowly, too tired to really taste the food, just grateful for the sustenance. The cold wine slid over her palate and eventually into her blood stream. That was when the problems began, but Gwen wasn’t really aware of the effects of the Rohypnol combined with the alcohol. In all it took her about twenty minutes to become completely without sensation. The feeling of inebriation passed to semi-consciousness in a matter of seconds.
It was now that checking the door chain would have been a great idea. She didn’t know anything else until she woke at well past nine o’clock the next morning. Her bed looking like it had been through a mincing machine, her bathrobe thrown carelessly on the floor and stains she had no recollection of making or why she had bits of toilet paper all over her bed and fanny. To top it all, she had the mother of a headache, like the worst hangover in the world and a bruise on her neck that looked for all the world like a hicky.
He had been watching through the periscope. Watched as Gwen came in, dumped her clothing on the floor as she made her way to the bathroom. Before the bathroom door closed, shutting of his uninterrupted view of her naked body, he was treated to a full frontal show. Her breasts, on show for his personal enjoyment, swung slightly, free from their entrapment, white and firm with puckered aureoles. And then, her back and perfectly formed arse was his to enjoy as she pushed the door shut. He especially liked the red welts where her bra had pinched the skin of her back and the line her panties had left on her buttocks and upper thighs, as if they were still there, but perfectly see-through.
Some ten minutes passed.
Steam curled in diminishing wisps around the edge of the door. He waited, knowing she would be coming out soon. His anticipation jumped from level to level in an upward crescendo until he was physically trembling. His cock had stiffened until it was painfully encumbered in his trousers. He resisted the urge of getting it out to rub himself to completion, hoping that his turn would come very soon.
He watched when Gwen came out of the bathroom, wrapping a white robe around herself but, not quite quickly enough to hide her freshly showered pink body from his glimpse. Then she went from view into the kitchen. He waited and then saw her pick up her damp clothing before returning to the kitchen.
After a few minutes, that seemed like forever, she came from the kitchen with a tray in her hands. His focus immediately centred on the glass of wine, it was on for tonight, a night he thought might never happen, had only been in his squalid dreams and fantasies.
He had used an old passkey from the days the buildings were constructed. Forgotten, it had sat on the key board, the tag faded and indistinct. He had no idea it was there. All these years he could have had, arranging her furniture to increase his voyeuristic pleasure. Once he found he had unlimited access to Gwen’s apartment, his plans for Gwen formed in only a few seconds. The Rohypnol he had managed to squirrel away after clearing out one of the apartments years back, now had a use. A carefully measured dose in an old eye-dropper found its way into the half full bottle of wine he knew would be in the fridge. The trap was set. All that remained was for Gwen to come home.
He waited until the drugged wine did the trick, watching as she slowly sank down on the sofa, her head lolling to one side, the remains of the wine and glass fell from nerveless fingers to the carpeted floor. Gwen was his now, ready for his special treatment. Tonight, she would meet a real man who would screw her brains out.
Diary entry Monday 18th
I did it! I actually did it and fucked her good and proper.
That GHB stuff worked an absolute fucking treat. She was out quickly and stayed that way all through our tryst. I’m to shagged to write now, will finish this up later.
He waited until he was sure Gwen had gone completely under. Then, silently, he opened the back door with his newly acquired key, letting himself into the kitchen and equally as quietly, closing the door behind him, careful the latch didn’t click into place.
He inched forward. Favouring the cover of the wall, much as he had seen old-time gangster and spy movies had their heroes creep around. It would probably have been comical to watch his progress as he inched along, with his back flat against the wall. His sneakers making absolutely no sound whatsoever, concentration completely focused on where Gwen lay comatose.
He could see her damp hair and head lifting and falling as her chest expanded with breath. She showed no other signs of life. It was perfect in his execution he thought and licked his lips in anticipation.
Reaching over the back of the leather settee, He lightly grasped her shoulder and shook it as he whispered her name. She groaned in response, but made no other defensive move. It was all he needed to know, she was completely out of it.
His movements became much bolder and assured, knowing that, even if she knew what was happening, she would have no memory in the morning and no method of fending him off. He walked around the settee to stand in front of her recumbent position, his eyes never leaving the open necked bathrobe she wore. The swell of her breasts and cleavage were quite evident between the lapels of the robe. His cock stiffened at the sight and his proximity to her body, the object of his fantasies and desires.
Her legs dangled off the edge of the seat and lay, splayed apart on the carpeted floor. He stepped between her feet and nudged her legs apart with is calves. He knew that he partly shaven cunt would be there to view, but denied himself that particular pleasure, savouring the anticipation of sight, touch, smell and taste as a delicious thrill yet to come.
He reached down to the loosely tied belt of the robe, flicking deftly to undo the knot she had tied. It parted easily and, as he pulled the ends away, so the edges of her robe parted as well, revealing her skin underneath.
Hardly able to contain himself, his fingers help the robe to fall completely open. A nail brushed her skin and then, brushed across the right breast, pausing momentarily at her nipple. He licked his lips again, a nervous trait from his childhood in times of stress.
He looked at her face as he lightly gripped her hardening nipple and was suddenly shocked to see that her eyes were open and steadily gazing at him. For a moment, he paused and thought of flight, but realised in the next second, that she could very well be awake, but had no volition because of the debilitating effect of the drug. In no more than a nano-second, his thoughts of flight turned into pure pleasure. If she was going to be awake all the way through, then his enjoyment would be increased exponentially.
Her gaze gave no indication of pain or reaction when he pinched her nipple hard between thumb and forefinger.
“You’re all mine Cunt.” His voice rasped as he informed her that her fate was completely at his whim for the next few hours.
Pulling the robe together and using it as a sling, he pulled her up and over his shoulder into a fireman’s lift. He carried her into her bedroom and unceremoniously, dumped her on the bed, on her back. Her head connected with the wall, but only a glancing blow, not enough to draw blood.
He yanked the robe from her shoulders while straddling her prone body. Her tits pointed accusingly at him. Rose coloured aureoles surrounding small buds on orbs that hardly sagged at the pull of gravity.
He licked his lips again and gripped her breasts in a vicious, claw like grasp that would leave a row of bruises. He pulled them apart and buried his nose in the valley they created, smelling her clean skin before running his tongue through the valley, leaving a slick of saliva to cool on the tiny hairs of her body.
He bit her neck in the region of her jugular vein, leaving a love bite, something he had always wanted to do to a woman. His cock stiffened still more as he viewed the purpling mark.
Gwen’s eyes followed his movements, as a painted portrait does, but still there was no recognition of him or his actions.
“Time for your Jack and Danny my little one.” He had reverted to the rhyming slang for fanny he had used in his childhood. It was considered dirty, talking about the genitals of a girl, so substitute words were used.
He knelt and pulled off the robe completely. It was his first time with a woman completely naked in his presence and his to do with as he pleased. Could life be any better he asked himself?
Parting her knees, he lowered his nose to the small strip of hair that led to her hidden delights. She had a smell he couldn’t describe, something clean, The soap she had used in the shower, but with a musky scent in the background and a promise of something else. Certainly, it wasn’t anything like the smell from her soiled panties he had managed to sniff when he had sneaked into her apartment a few days ago.
He licked, sticking his tongue out, at just the outermost edge of her vulva. Her taste was almost exactly as her smell. The recently used soap was very prominent on her skin, but her secretions were there as well, intoxicating and sending messages to his, already hard cock.
He parted her lips with the calloused fingers of his right hand and pressed his tongue into her folds then, sucked, savouring the musk of her natural lubricant. He pushed a finger into her cunt, watching fascinated as her lips drew in and out around it as he worked in backwards and forwards. Then he inserted, two fingers, hooking them slightly, feeling her warmth and slickness of her silken hole and the slightly ribbed pad of her ‘G’ spot. Then three fingers. He fucked them into her yielding body roughly until his arm ached at the exercise. Her body had naturally provided the necessary fluids to prevent friction burns in so sensitive an area. It had leaked out onto the sheets and coated his fingers. He held them to his nose, smelling her before tasting them, sucking them clean of her juice.
He couldn’t postpone the inevitable climax of his mission any longer. Having her here, laying prostrate across the bed, naked and completely at his whim, was just too much for his self control. With fumbling fingers, he undid his fly and winkled out his hard-on while he stared at her glorious cunt and the evident wetness that glistened in the radiance of the overhead light.
Lying over her body, between her knees, he positioned his cock at her entrance and pushed into her with out effort. She had provided enough lubricant to ease his passage. He slid his whole length into her body, the very act he had fantasised about for so long, his complete mastery of her body, his pinioning of her on his cock. And then he began to fuck her while mauling at her breasts. It was all too much for him. The combination of preparation, long awaited fulfilment of his desires, watching her, knowing she had no idea, her flawlessness and vulnerability at this very moment, had him blasting his seed within a few minutes.
She was his first, she had his cherry, so to speak and the moment of ejaculation had him crying out. It was better than he had dreamed and her accommodating body was infinitely better than the rough skin of his palms.
He lay on top of her as the spasms of his climax diminished.
Then, he panicked. She would most likely know she had been violated and his seed was swilling around inside her. Naively, he sought tissue paper, thinking to stuff it inside her to mop up his cum. He ran to the bathroom and grabbed a wad of toilet paper. He quickly rolled it into a sausage shape and forced it into her. Of course, it disintegrated as he tried to fish it back out. So, in a frenzy of blind panic, he found a squeezy bottle in the cupboard under the kitchen sink, filled it with water and washed her out, using his fingers to try and hook out the bits of tissue, making even more of a mess of the bed sheets.
He collected anything that might incriminate him and ran, crouching, from her apartment. It was two in the morning, unlikely anyone would be awake, let alone watching his stilted rush across the courtyard.
Diary entry Tuesday 19th.
I slept till ten this morning, completely fucked. Gwen is a fantastic lay, I want to do it again as soon as possible. Wouldn’t it be great if I fucked her and she got pregnant? She wouldn’t know who the father is, but I would.
I might try setting up a video camera next time. See me fucking into her, perhaps I will get her to suck me off so I can cum all over her face, perhaps she will swallow it all.
I was reckless though, leaving all that cum inside her and biting her neck for suck’s sake. God, what an idiot, but it was fucking good.
DS Oliver read the passage of words, seeing them as a confession of guilt. He had no doubt that the Janitor had raped his victim, but proof is always the hardest thing to obtain, these words, by the rapist’s own hand, were as good as being caught in the act.
He flipped a page or two back and re-read the entries up to the Nineteenth. DS Oliver wondered why someone would harbour these kinds of thoughts and what it was that drove them to it in the first place and decided that, although the Janitor wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box, it couldn’t be accepted as a reason for his actions. It was more than likely that he was always going to be some kind of pervert, because that was the way his switches lined up.
It wasn’t about sex, although that was the corner stone from which his perversion stemmed, it was all about control, about being stronger, fitter or just the one with the wherewithal to do as he pleased with a defenceless woman.
Disgusted, DS Oliver closed the scruffy diary and put it in his pocket to reader later, when he was back in his office.
The Scene of Crime Officers, were just packing up their equipment into steel carry cases. They had all the evidence they needed and wanted to get back to base before the cup final started.