The Touch of FearMature

A hand slipped over her lips as she attempted a strangled scream, but his hair tickled her ear as he whispered, “Shhhh, don’t speak. It won’t hurt.”

Her eyes widened with fear as he pushed her over with that devilish smile as he stripped out of his clothes. Then, he moved onto her. She closed her eyes and waited for him to be done, silent tears streaming down her cheeks as he tore her dress away and pushed inside. She listened as he moaned, trying not to pull away, for if she did, he would surely kill her. She had seen the gun attached to his belt before he had so calmly shed it along with his pants.

He was wriggling himself all over her as she just waited for him to finish, breathing heavily and whispering to herself, “What did I do wrong?”

He placed her hands straight onto him, making her rub him nicely at gunpoint so she wouldn’t try and move. He let his head lay back as he sighed with pleasure, his disgusting substances sticking to her and icing her fingers. She closed her eyes again, wishing she could be anywhere else but there. She whimpered softly as he breathed, the putrid scent of alcohol staining her sinuses.

“You’re done,” he grunted, pushing her off of him and pulling his trousers back on, along with the rest of his clothes. Then, with a wink, he turned and swept away, leaving her bawling in the middle of the alleyway.

“I’m done,” she muttered, holding up the shreds of her dress and staring at them. The once-beautiful evening gown was now shredded beyond repair. She sighed and closed her eyes, imagining another place, anywhere other than there. She sat there, her knees clutched to her bare chest as she sobbed, wishing men weren’t so filthy and wondered if they could, or even if they would, ever change.

The End

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