Gender: Female Age: 19 Location: Florida
I just read your latest story and, God!, what a turn on! I had to beat off half way through and again at the end, and I’m still hard as a rock! Your writing drives me right through the roof! Your stories are just so realistic, so believable, and I think I know why. It’s because you put so much of yourself into them. I can just tell that these are really your own fantasies and that you would love to live them out! I would love to help you, too. Why don’t you tell me where you live, and I’ll come and visit you. I can make all of your fantasies come true, just the way you want. I’ll rape your pussy. I’ll rape your ass. I’ll rape your mouth. I’ll fuck you till you bleed! Just tell me where to find you and I’ll give you all the fucking you want!
Hoping to hear from you soon.
Heather sighed and shook her head as she finished reading the e-mail. Most of the messages she got were okay. Just comments on her stories, either positive or negative. I loved it; I hated it, that kind of thing. Once in a while she got a message from someone suggesting a plot line for a story. Occasionally she chatted with other Internet authors, trading ideas or commenting on each other’s stories. But on mercifully rare occasions, she got one like this. Some sicko that couldn’t separate fantasy from reality.
She had received other messages from Slyguy123. At first, they had seemed harmless. Praise for her stories. Admiration for her writing style. But slowly, over time, his true self began showing through, dark and evil. Slyguy123 wasn’t interested in fantasy. He was interested in rape. Real, terrifying, sadistic. And now he was suggesting she should tell him where she lives so he can visit her? So he can rape her? How could this idiot think she would even consider such a suggestion? This clown must have no concept of reality at all. Not a single clue.
Okay, so she wrote erotic literature for the Internet, and most of her stories dealt with rape. She wrote them because she enjoyed writing them, and because it aroused her to put her fantasies on paper. That didn’t mean she wanted some psychotic head case to actually get his hands on her. Nobody in their right mind would really want to be raped, regardless of their fantasies. In one of her stories, she had the main character, Miranda, burned at the stake at the end of the story. Did this idiot think that she wanted that to happen to her, too? Some people were just so stupid!
She deleted the e-mail without replying and gave it no further thought.
Slyguy123 was sick. He was perverted and sadistic. However, in spite of what Heather thought, he was not stupid. In fact, when it came to computers, he was a genius. He had hacked into some of the most secure sites in the world and was never caught. He wrote viruses that were devastatingly lethal and unstoppable. And now, he was working on what would be his greatest achievement. He was developing a tracker.
The tracker was a program that could be appended to any e-mail message, invisible to the recipient. It would monitor the phone lines that carried the message from modem to modem, recording route changes and directories. It would monitor and track the progress of the carrier e-mail through the Internet system to its final destination. When the e-mail was opened, the tracker would immediately send itself back to the computer from which it had started. And, just like the police tracing a phone call, the tracker would return with the home address of the recipient of the original e-mail.
This would be a technological breakthrough. Once he had it perfected, he would be able to name his own price for the program. Governments, police agencies, intelligence groups, even private citizens would love to have the tracker. They wouldn’t get it, though. Slyguy123 wasn’t interested in money. He had enough to meet his needs. He wanted the tracker for other, more personal reasons.
Slyguy123 was totally obsessed with developing the tracker. He was also totally obsessed with Heather. He had copied her photograph from the website where she published her stories and had printed it out. He had numerous copies of it posted around his computer room in various sizes. One was even blown up to poster size. He thought of Heather and her delicious fantasies every day. He knew that he was meant to be with her. That he was meant to fulfill her fantasies, her dreams. And he would. He would make her see that he was right. He would make her bend to his will. All he needed was his tracker.
I had been hoping to hear from you before this. It’s okay, though. I understand why you haven’t replied to my messages. It’s because you’re shy, isn’t it? That’s why you have to write about your fantasies, isn’t it? You’re just too shy to tell anyone about them face to face. That’s okay. You won’t have to worry about that for long. Soon, my dear, soon I will be with you, and then you will no longer have to fantasize. I will rape you just like you’ve always wanted. Brutally. Viciously. Repeatedly. Oh, yes Heather, I will drive my rock hard cock into every hole that you have. I will fill you with my cum. I will rape you until you can’t stand anymore, and then I will rape you again. By the time I finish with you, you will be limp, spent and exhausted. You will love it! I’ll bet just thinking about it has you sopping wet, doesn’t it? I’ll bet you can’t wait to see me. It will not be long, my love. It will not be long.
Heather read the e-mail a second time and trembled. He sounded so positive, so sure that he could find her. Was there anyway that he could know where she lived? Had she inadvertently given him any clues when she had responded to the first few e-mails he had sent, the ones in which he sounded normal? She concentrated on it, thinking back. No. No, she hadn’t given him any information. Nothing that could lead him to her. But why did he sound so … so sure that he could find her?
Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he was just completely full of shit. He could be just trying to scare her, to make her feel fear. She had him pegged as being sadistic, and maybe this was just part of his sadistic little game. Try to make her afraid, try to terrify her, and then laugh and beat off thinking about her being afraid.
But what if …… what if he could find her? What if he had somehow figured out where she lived? Maybe she should call the police. Call the police and tell them that … what? That she wrote rape stories for the Internet, and now some sicko was writing to her about rape? They would probably tell her that she had to expect things like that if she insisted on writing stories about rape. They would tell her that he was just some sick asshole writing about his fantasies, just the way she wrote about hers, and there was nothing to worry about. And even if by some miracle they did believe her, what could they do? How could they find him based on nothing but an e-mail address? They couldn’t. No. There was no sense in calling the police. There was nothing they could, or would, do.
Heather read the message again. He sounded so sure of himself. So positive that he could find her. And what would happen if he did find her? She had no doubts about that. He told her quite clearly what he intended to do to her. He would rape her over and over. Rape her until he had satisfied his perverted desires. And then what? Would he allow her to live? Or would her kill her in some sick and sadistic manner? Heather thought she knew the answer, and she felt a shiver travel up her spine.
Slyguy123 thought that the tracker might finally be ready. He had worked on it long and hard, and the program seemed to be functional. It was time for a test. He would send an e-mail to a friend of his, someone whose address he knew. Then, if the tracker came back with that address, he would be ready.
Just thought I’d drop you a line to see what’s going on. Things here are pretty much normal. Maybe we can get together for a beer later in the week.
It was short, but that didn’t matter. He could have sent a blank e-mail. It was the attachment that was important. Setting the cursor over the paperclip on the menu bar, he activated the pull down menu. Selecting the proper file, he double clicked on it to append it to the e-mail. In this case, however, there was no indication on the e-mail that there was any kind of attachment. It was effectively invisible.
He hit “SEND”, then lit a cigarette and sat back to wait. It shouldn’t take long. It was Sunday, and Jerry, a true computer geek, always spent Sundays glued to his screen. He wasn’t really interested in Jerry’s response. The tracker should activate itself as soon as Jerry opened the e-mail. The tracker, in fact, should return home before Jerry even finished reading the message.
He had just finished the cigarette when the small envelope appeared in the lower right corner of his screen. Opening the e-mail, he saw the message in plain text.
“Tracker complete: Address of recipient:”
But there was no address. The space where Jerry’s address should have been was blank. Slyguy123 sighed. A minor set back. The tracker had been invisible, and it had activated itself and returned to its home computer. That was the big thing. He just had to fine-tune the program. Sooner or later, he would succeed.
I am amazed that you have not yet supplied your address to me. After all, we both know that you want me to come for you, don’t we? I am the culmination of all your fantasies, all your desires. We were made to play out our drama together. Are you just playing hard to get? Do you wish me to pursue you? Will that add excitement to our game? Very well. I will play the game the way you wish. It will only make things that much better for the both of us when I sink my cock in you for the first, but not the last, time. Yes, the first time. I so look forward to the first time, my dear Heather. Soon. Soon.
Heather shook her head in amazement. This guy was not only sick, he was delusional. He was definitely a few bricks shy of a full load. Could he honestly believe she actually wanted him to find her? Could he honestly believe she actually wanted him to rape her? It was so bizarre! So utterly bizarre!
Or could it be … could it be that he was only trying to scare her? Maybe that was how he got off. Contact women over Internet and slowly scare them. Build a terror in them over a period of time. Maybe instilling the fear of rape was enough to satisfy his warped desires. That would certainly be easier than actually trying to find someone who might be anywhere in the country. Hell, anywhere in the world, for that matter. Still …
She couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom. Was she just being silly? Worrying about nothing? She wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe that there was nothing to really fear. But she couldn’t.
He spent the better part of a month working on the tracker. Slyguy123 was nothing if not patient. He went over every line of code, tweaking, fine-tuning, and adjusting. Finally, he thought he had worked out the last of the bugs. He typed a short e-mail.
Did you see ‘Independence Day’ on TV? last night?
Once more he attached the tracker program to the e-mail and hit send. Now he only had to wait until Jerry opened the e-mail. That was all it would take, the simple act of opening the e-mail.
If it only worked. He gazed at the poster-sized picture of Heather hanging from the wall. She would be his, to do with as he would. He would use her in every way imaginable, and in some ways most people wouldn’t imagine. He’d had a long time to fantasize about her, to daydream. Every day that went by, every dream he concocted, added to his plans. His imagination was running wild, and the things he planned to do to her … oh, the delicious things he planned to do to her!
And slowly, the things he did to her would become her fantasies, too. She would realize, oh so gradually, that they were really soul mates, destined to share their dark dreams. He would rape her in every way, in every orifice. And then, when he was done, there would be the final dream, the final fantasy. This time, though, it wasn’t his fantasy. It was hers. She had detailed it in one of her stories, and he knew it would be her greatest pleasure. It would be his gift to her.
He lit a cigarette with trembling hands. The thought of her, quivering and squirming beneath him, was racing through his mind. What would her voice sound like? What would it sound like as she begged and pleaded and whimpered? He was only half way through his cigarette when the envelope flashed on the screen. He opened the e-mail and read the message.
“Tracker complete: Address of recipient: 1524 Crestmont Drive, Indianapolis, Indiana.”
Perfect. The tracker was working.
Heather was working on a story when the small envelope in the corner of the screen indicated that she had an incoming e-mail. Not wanting to break her train of thought, she continued typing. Whatever it was could wait. Her thoughts were flowing, and the words were fitting together so well. Her alter ego, the fictional Heather of her stories, was being brutally raped in an alley. Her attacker was reaching his limits, approaching the edge. Heather was squirming, trying to escape, when the rapist let go and flooded her insides with cum. Heather finished writing the scene, concluding the violent rape, and leaned back in her chair.
She took a deep breath to try and calm her. It always seemed strange the she should become so aroused by her own words. Still, she had taken it as her own adage that if the story line didn’t turn her on, it wouldn’t turn on her readers, either. And Heather believed she owed something to her readers. If they were going to take the time to read her stories, then she should make sure the stories were as good as she could make them.
Taking another breath, she glanced at the envelope in the corner of her screen. Maximizing the e-mail program on her screen, she saw the message was from Slyguy123.
Damn! Why didn’t he just leave her alone? Couldn’t he find someone else to torment? She hadn’t answered any of his e-mails in months. You’d think he’d be tired of this one-way conversation by now. What kind of rush could he be getting from this? Was just sending the e-mail enough to get him off? Was he so devoid of life that the mere act of sending an e-mail gave him gratification?
She tapped her fingernail on the table as she stared at the screen. Stupid bastard. Maybe she should answer this one. Maybe she should send him an e-mail that would rip him a new asshole. Let him know just how disgusting and reprehensible she thought he was. Call him every rotten, insulting name she could think of. Question his manhood, his sexual orientation. Insinuate that he was impotent, a eunuch. Maybe that would get him to quit e-mailing her.
Of course, there was always the chance that such a maneuver would backfire on her. It might irritate him and make him even worse than he was now. Maybe she should just delete the damned thing without even opening it. Just ignore him completely, not even read his sick e-mails. How hard would that be? Every time one came in from him, just delete it without opening it or reading it.
The e-mail from Slyguy123 was hi-lighted in blue. Heather moved the cursor to the “X” on the menu bar to delete the message. But if she did that, then she wouldn’t know what he was thinking, what he was planning. That is, if he actually was planning anything. He was probably just full of shit, but could Heather take that chance? It would be much better if she could get him to stop. In the most fateful decision of her life, Heather moved the cursor to the message and double clicked to open it. She sucked in her breath as she read the single line,
“It is time, Heather. I am coming for you.”
It was late at night and Heather was driving home from work. Her eyes kept darting to the rear view mirrors both inside and outside the car, watching for any sign that she was being followed. For the last month, ever since receiving that last, short message from Slyguy123, she had been on pins and needles.
“It is time, Heather. I am coming for you.”
That was the last she had received from him. Not another word of any kind. For some reason, not hearing from him now seemed worse that hearing from him. At least when she was getting his e-mails, she could assume he was at home, wherever that might be. But now, with nothing coming in, where was he? Still at home? Traveling to get here?
Or could he be here already?
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was tired of his little game and decided to end it. Maybe that last message was just his swan song, one last stab of fear inflicted on his victim before moving on to someone else. Maybe he was already working on some other woman on the other side of the country. Maybe.
Heather glanced in the rearview mirror again. There was a vehicle several car lengths behind her. A truck or a van, she wasn’t sure. Had she seen it before? Something about it seemed familiar, but what? Yes, that was it. The headlights. The headlight on the passenger side was brighter than the one on the driver’s side. Had she actually noticed that earlier, or was her mind playing tricks on her? Was she being followed or not? One way to find out for sure.
At the next intersection, Heather made a right turn. Staying within the speed limit, she watched her rearview mirror. The vehicle with the mismatched headlights made the turn behind her. Okay, she thought, that’s one.
Heather approached the next intersection and made another right turn. Still within the speed limit, she again saw the other vehicle make the turn. Cool. That’s two. She was starting to feel nervous. Coincidence?
Reaching the next intersection, Heather made her third consecutive right turn. She felt sweat beading on her forehead as she watched the rearview. Once again the vehicle behind her made the turn. That’s three, she thought.
Heather approached the next intersection and once more made a right turn. She had circled the block, and was now back on the road she had been on when she first noticed the vehicle behind her. She watched her rearview. If whoever was back there also made the right turn, she would be sure that she was being followed. If that were the case, she would put the gas pedal to the floorboards and drive like hell to the nearest police station. She watched the rearview. She saw the vehicle approach the intersection and turn … left.
Heather sighed. Okay. Had this just been a case where whoever was driving that vehicle realized they were going in the wrong direction and circled the block to turn around? Or had they actually been following Heather and, realizing what she was doing, broke off? It seemed almost too coincidental that they should circle the same block as Heather unless they were following her. Still, it COULD be a coincidence. Either way, they were no longer behind her. She would stay doubly alert from now on. And she would damn sure watch for those mismatched headlights in the future.
Heather stepped out of the shower and toweled off. It was nearly three months since she had heard from Slyguy123, and over two months since the incident with the vehicle with the mismatched headlights. Every day the memories of his threats had dimmed, receding into a mental distance. She was now convinced she had heard the last of him. The sick bastard had probably found some other woman to terrorize. It was time to get back to normal.
Heather enjoyed going to movies alone. She could relax and get into the stories without interruption or distraction. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her husband. She did. She just needed a little time to herself once in awhile, and going to a movie was certainly harmless enough.
Padding to the bedroom, Heather put on a black satin bra and panties. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she slowly pulled on black thigh-hi nylons. She enjoyed wearing sexy lingerie under her clothes. It made her feel pretty and desirable. It was almost an ego boost for her. Again, harmless enough. Heather put on a light blue silk blouse and buttoned it. She then pulled on a pair of navy blue slacks and pulled up the zipper. She finished the outfit with a pair of navy blue pumps.
After kissing her daughter good night and saying goodbye to her husband, Heather closed the front door behind her and walked to her car. She started the engine, moved the gearshift to “D”, and pulled into the street. It was a warm, clear night and traffic was light. She made it to the theater in less than fifteen minutes.
The theater had two parking areas, one in front and one in back. Although there were several parking spaces available in the front lot, Heather pulled around to the rear lot. She kept driving until she was at the far back end of the lot. There, she pulled into a space, moved the gearshift to “P”, and shut off the ignition.
Heather could have parked in front, but it was a little too … open … for her. She enjoyed smoking a joint to mellow out before going into the movie, and the back of the rear lot was the safest place for that. She took out the tightly rolled marijuana cigarette, placed it between her full lips, and lit it. Sucking the smoke deep into her lungs, she held it for several seconds before slowly exhaling.
Heather sat quietly, smoking her joint and letting her mind wander. Such a nice night. So relaxing. Finishing her smoke, she put the roach in the ashtray and closed it. She debated pulling the car to the front lot now, but rejected it. Such a nice night. She would enjoy the short walk to the theater. Getting out of the car, she made sure the doors were locked and started walking across the lot.
It was quite dark when Heather left the movie theater. She had thoroughly enjoyed the show and felt completely relaxed as she walked across the moonlit parking lot. She was humming quietly to herself as she reached her car. What a beautiful night, she thought.
In the midst of her thoughts, Heather felt her blood run cold. She had heard a rustling in the bushes directly behind her car. She looked around quickly. She was alone in the rear lot. Suppose it was he? Suppose he had found her? Oh, God, why hadn’t she moved her car to the front lot after she finished her joint? Why had she been so stupid to leave it all the way back here?
“Who’s there?” she called out as she rummaged in her purse for her keys, but there was no response. Her hands trembled as she searched for the keys.
“I … I have a gun!” she called out as her eyes darted left and right. It was a lie, of course, but whoever was in the bushes wouldn’t know that. Maybe it would buy her enough time to get into the car and lock the doors. Her fingers trembling, she fumbled her keys and dropped them. She heard the rustling again as she grabbed her keys from the concrete and again tried to fit them in the lock. Her heart was racing and her breathing was rapid and shallow. Come on! Come on! Get the damned door unlocked!
And then, just as she got the key into the lock, she ran out of time. She felt terror race through her and her stomach constrict as the dark shape moved out of the bushes towards her. Her eyes bulged and she wanted to scream. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be!
The figure moved into the light. Head leaning to the side, tongue dangling from his mouth. She could hear him panting. Heather leaned against the car and tried to slow her breathing as she and the dog stared at each other. And then he turned and trotted away.
Damn! That scared the shit out of me, she thought. She felt silly now. Afraid of the dark, just like a little kid. That sick bastard had her jumping at shadows. She unlocked the car door a slid in behind the wheel. She put the keys in the ignition, but didn’t start the engine. She wanted to calm down before she tried driving. Unbelievable, to be so scared by ….
… hands grabbed her from behind. Over her shoulders and under her arms. She screamed as she felt herself being lifted from the seat, her back arching as she was pulled over the back of the seat. She continued screaming as she fell headfirst into the backseat of the car.
There were hands on her, forcing her over onto her back. She lashed out, trying to rake her fingernails across the eyes of her attacker. She felt a fist smash into her face and tasted blood in her mouth. Still she fought, flailing with arms and legs.
“Stop it! Don’t do this! Oh, God, HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP ME!” She was screaming at the top of her lungs, but no one heard, no one came. She felt the hands break open the zipper on the front of her slacks. He grabbed the waistband of her slacks and panties and jerked them down over her thighs, then past her knees.
“Leave me ALONE! Oh PLEASE leave me alone!”
He pulled off her slacks and panties and threw them to the floor. Her legs free, she tried to kick him, but didn’t have the room in the cramped backseat of the car. He grabbed her blouse and tore it open, scattering buttons everywhere. Tearing her bra open, he pulled it and the remains of her blouse from her body and threw them to the floor with her slacks and panties. He threw himself on top of her, one hand grabbing a fist full of hair while the other grabbed one of her breasts and twisted cruelly.
“DON’T!” she screamed. “You’re HURTING me! Owwww! STOP it! Please STOP IT!”
He crushed his mouth to hers and forced his tongue into her mouth. She gagged as the intruder forced it’s way deep into her mouth. She had her hands against his chest, trying to push him off of her, but he was too heavy. She felt him using his knees to force her legs apart. Her body was twisting and squirming under him as she fought to escape.
He buried his face in her neck and she felt him snaking a hand between them. His hand went to her crotch, rubbing between the lips of her vagina. “Nuuhhh … oohhh … STOP!” she screamed as he jammed a finger up inside her. His mouth dropped to her breast and he viciously chewed on her nipple, sending waves of pain through her.
“DON’T! Oh please DON’T! You’re HURTING me!”
He was undoing his trousers, pulling out his cock as he prepared to rape her. She felt the fear and frustration raging through her. He was going to use her like a piece of meat, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
“Get OFF of me!” Heather screamed in vain. “Oh God, get OFF of me! You can’t DO this! You just CAN’T!”
She felt him pressing the head of his cock against her vagina. She dug her heels into the seat of the car, trying to get enough leverage to throw him off. She twisted and turned, pushed against his chest, tried to move her hips away from him. Nothing worked.
“Oh, no! Oh, please NO!” she begged as she felt him forcing her open, felt the head of his cock start to enter her. “No! I don’t … don’t want … you IN me! Let GO! Get … get OUT of me!”
He was fucking his way into her, driving deeper with each thrust of his hips. She hadn’t been ready, hadn’t been aroused, and the penetration was painful. Heather felt as if her insides were being torn open as he pounded farther and farther into her. Tears burned her cheeks as the reality of what was happening sunk in.
“No! Don’t! PLEASE … don’t! No! … No! … NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” Heather arched her back and screamed in pain as he finally drove the full length of his shaft into her body. “Oh, God, please STOP it! nuuhhh … nuuhhh … nuuhhh … Get … get … OUT of … of me! P-please! Oh, God! Oh, God!”
He was driving into her brutally, viciously. His hands roamed over her body, twisting and squeezing. Heather continued fighting, squirming and kicking, trying to push him away. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She ground her teeth. She felt the perspiration beading on her body. She cried out in pain each time he impaled her.
“No … more! … nuuhhh … nuuhhh … P-please … no … MORE! … nuuhhh … It … HURTS! … Oh God! … It … h-hurts!” Heather pleaded futilely. The animal on top of her didn’t care if he hurt her. He enjoyed hurting her. He drove into her repeatedly with long, hard strokes, using his cock as a weapon against her.
It was so dark that Heather still hadn’t been able to make out the features of her rapist. Could it be him? Could Slyguy123 have actually found her? Terror swept through her at the thought. If this were someone else, if this was a rapist who had just randomly selected Heather, then he would probably use her and leave. If it were Slyguy123, though … he would use her,and use her, and use her, and finally kill her. Oh, God please don’t let it be he! Please not him!
To be continued...
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