I was nearly eighteen and in my second year of school, when the others were having another party just before the Christmas break, and it was getting very rowdy. I could hear it all the way up in my room and only managed to fall asleep at about 1.30 a.m.
My door creaking disturbed me, then I heard a rush of loud music, before it went quiet again, apart from a rustling, which slowly brought me around. At first, I thought I’d forgotten to put the notice on my door, and a couple had come in for sex, but suddenly the covers were pulled off me. I froze, not sure what was going on. There were no voices, which I would have expected if it were a couple, but there was nothing.
It was so dark in my room that I couldn’t see a thing. I started to sit up but felt a hand pushing at my chest, forcing me back. I was just about to scream to get the hell out of my room when something was shoved into my mouth and then something else was tied around my face over my mouth to secure it. It smelled terrible, and it felt woolly like a sock. I couldn’t say anything or scream, I started to shake with panic.
Whoever it was then climbed on top of me, pinning my arms to my sides with their knees so I couldn't fight them off. Hands started to pull at my tank top, ripping the thin spaghetti straps and tearing it off me, exposing my chest. I was trying to wriggle and buck free, but the person was much too heavy for me, and I wasn’t strong enough. It was so dark that I couldn't make out who it was, and they never spoke. I did notice the smell though. It was a cologne I had smelt before — a man's scent mixed with cigarette smoke. He was grabbing my breasts hard, pulling on them. The pain as he twisted my nipples was excruciating. Then his mouth was on one of my nipples, and he was biting hard and drawing blood, I could feel it trickle between my breasts. I was getting exhausted and weaker trying to fight him off.
He started ripping my night shorts and panties down, and I went into a panic, my throat was sore with trying to scream. I tried with all my might to wriggle and buck, but I was no match for him. He still never spoke.
I then had something tied around my eyes. At this point, I was naked. He must have been too, which explains the rustling when he entered my room — he was undressing. I could feel his thing pressing into my tummy. It was hard and felt wet.
I was hysterical and trying to plead with him through the gag. I knew what was about to happen. He was going to rape me. My first time would be forever tainted by this pathetic ass who was going to force himself on me. And I couldn’t do a thing about it. I felt so helpless — the covering over my eyes was getting wet from my tears. I wanted to just die. After trying to buck him off me and shaking my head no and trying to scream, I was physically worn out. I felt him shuffle further down my thighs before he parted my legs and started rubbing his thing on me. I froze. He’d moved my hands, and they were now being held very tightly in one of his huge hands by the wrists, and I couldn’t get free of him no matter how hard I tried.
I started to choke on the gag in my mouth. I felt suffocated, and I was sure I was about to pass out. I was sweating, but I was cold, and I started to shake and convulse.
No one was going to come and save me.
No one ever came to my room.
No one could hear me: he’d made sure of that.
I was defenseless — pinned down now by his bulk while he found where he wanted to be.
Without warning, he rammed into me so hard that the pain was excruciating. I tried to scream through the gag. I must have passed out, and when I came too, he was still shoving into me vigorously, grunting as he leaned over me. It was brutal. He wasn’t being gentle. He was being a savage. He didn’t care what he was doing or how much he was hurting me. I just laid there as stiff as a board with the tears soaking whatever was over my eyes and running down to my ears. I prayed he would just finish soon and leave, I was exhausted and I had no fight left in me. It seemed to go on forever, thrust after brutal thrust, as I lay paralyzed.
Eventually, he stilled. I was relieved when he got off me. I felt like I was on fire down below, and I was so sore, but he then tied my hands to the headboard of my bed, so I was still trapped. I started kicking and kicking, breaking through the pain threshold, hoping I’d strike him, but I didn't. I only wore myself out more. Then I felt something between my legs. It wasn't his thing. It was cold and hard. I started to buck, and kick and wriggle trying to get my hands free, but it was no use, I couldn't do anything. I felt his breath on my cheek, then in my ear, as he gritted out, “Leave, bitch,” as he moved whatever he had in his hand onto my private parts towards where he had invaded me. I was terrified. I had no idea what it was or what he was doing until he slammed it into me hard. I screamed, and screamed into my gag, and my eyes rolled back into my head. I felt like I was going to die. I wanted to die. My body started to convulse, it went into spasms as he kept shoving whatever it was in and out hard, and I passed out.
Later, when I woke, there was light in my room. The things had been removed from my eyes and mouth. My hands were free, and my cover was thrown over me. I lifted my head slightly, trying to look around the room to make sure whoever it was had gone. My head was banging. My wrists were sore from being tied up and me struggling to get free. I slowly peeled the cover off and very gingerly sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I was in so much pain that I screamed out. I clutched my tummy, hugging myself, the pain so horrendous. I couldn't stand up. I looked at the bed — there was so much blood. I was completely naked, I could see blood between my legs and bruises on my chest, with dried blood all over one of my nipples and between my breasts. I sat like that for ages, not daring to move. I had so much pain everywhere, I just wanted to curl up and die.
I sat crying with my head in my hands. I had been violated, sadistically. Who would do this? It was Sunday, so no one would even think to look in on me. I had three more days left of school before Christmas break. I didn’t have lessons on Thursday or Friday and was going back to Grandma’s for Christmas on Wednesday straight after finishing school. I couldn’t go back to school. Not now, not knowing that who did this could be watching me.
Sometime much later, I managed to gingerly get off the bed. I pulled the sheets from the bed, throwing the comforter over the stained mattress. I needed to get in the shower. I needed to get clean, to get rid of him, to wash every trace of him from me. I tried to clean in between my legs, but the pain was so intense when I went near my private parts that I almost fainted from it. I had to push through the pain. He had been in me, and I needed him out. I started to clean there, and I tried to scrub inside. There was a lot of blood flushing down the drain, but I didn’t care, I needed to get clean. After a lot of scrubbing I collapsed onto the floor of the shower, curled up in a ball, crying and rocking. I stayed like that for a long time. The water ran cold, but I didn’t care. I wanted to sleep and never wake up.
There was a knock on my bathroom door. I didn't hear it at first, but then they knocked again louder before the door opened slightly, and Lesley peeped her head around the door, calling my name. I looked up just in time to see the look of horror on her face. She ran to me, turned the water off as she got the bath towel, and threw it over me to stop me from shivering. She helped me up off the floor. I wasn't crying now. I was just a zombie. No feelings. This just felt like existing to me.
I wasn’t going to tell anyone about this. No one could know. I was so ashamed and embarrassed that I could let this happen. How could I let this happen? In my own bed as well? I just told Lesley I didn’t feel well, and I must have passed out in the shower. She didn’t really believe me. I didn’t let her help me dry because she would see the mess I was in, so I did it quickly and got into my sweats and baggy hoodie. She noticed my wrists and held them up and asked me what the marks were. I pulled my arms away from her and pulled my sleeves over my hands and told her it was nothing. She looked at me skeptically, but I told her I felt better and thanked her for helping. I don't even know why she came to my room. She very rarely came to see me.
I only left my room when I thought
they were all out, and that was to just get some soup. I called the school on Monday and told them I had a bug and wouldn't be in until after Christmas break. Monday night, I flew home to Grandma’s with no intention of ever returning to school again.
Caspian
I PREPARED MYSELF last night by burying deep in Darcy. God, the things that woman can do with her tongue. It drives me nuts, and I love it. Darcy is my number one go-to girl. She doesn't want anything from me, and she doesn't need my money, she's a trust fund brat, and socialite, so doesn't need the fame either. We're just good for each other in the bedroom, and once we are done, we leave. She was at my midtown apartment last night and left straight after she sucked me dry. I thought I was already sated from our mammoth session where I made her cum with not only my cock and my tongue, but she loves my fingers up her ass as well. Then she got me all riled up again just so she could suck me. I wasn't going to complain about it, no, ma'am.
This morning, I feel quite relaxed and ready for the informal interview with Ms. Donald. God, I hope I can cope with being in the same room as her. What if she's hotter than I remember? I won't stand a chance. Maybe I shouldn't hire her. I might not be able to keep it professional, but then again, I need her to work for me. She’s the best, and only the best is good enough for my restaurant. I may just have to leave her to Francois to train up and stay out of her way. Yes, that’s the best idea because I do need her here.
I arrive at the restaurant at 9.a.m. She's coming in at 10.a.m., so I have enough time to see how all the prep is coming along. I don't have to be here for the prep, they know what they're doing, which is why I don't normally come in until 11.45 a.m. Just in time to check everything is ready for doors opening at noon. Then we take last orders at 10.30 p.m., and we are usually out of here by 12.30.a.m. I've got a great shift rotation that works well for us.
I've gone through all the set up with the team, and everyone knows what they are doing for today's menus. I'm just finishing my espresso coffee in front of house when I spot her walking past the window towards the main doors. Fuck, I'm screwed. She's fucking stunning. I watch her as she stands, straightening herself out before coming to the main door. She's in a trouser suit, and she's curvy in all the right places. She has fantastic, childbearing hips. Fuck, did I just think that? Children? Oh no, not even going there. But, god, I could hold on to those hips really good while plowing into her from behind. Fuck. I'm getting hard just thinking about it. Shit, fuck, shit, I need to think of something else, but I can't. Looking at her, she hasn't changed and is maybe even more beautiful in an understated type of way.
She’s not my usual type at all, but there is something about her that just gets me right in the chest — and in the trousers. Her long red hair is tied back in a ponytail held up with one of those claw clip things so the end dangles down, and she has bangs, which I fucking love. She reaches out for the door, but I haven’t unlocked it yet, so I have to move over to unlock it. I hope to fuck she doesn’t notice my fucking traitor of a cock.
I unlock the door just as she is about to knock, and she looks up, startled as I swing it open. She has a shocked expression on her face, probably because it’s me opening it. She flushes, and my cock is granite now. Those fucking eyes of hers mesmerize me. I’d forgotten how stunningly beautiful and unusual in color they were — like the aqua green of the Indian Ocean. I stand behind the door slightly and motion her inside.
“Good morning, Ms. Donald, lovely to see you again.”
“Oh, huh, good morning, Mr. Kade.” She’s embarrassed. Maybe she’s noticed my cock. “Please come in and take a seat at the bar there.” I point towards the bar. I need to stand behind it so she can’t see how hard I am.
She walks towards the bar, and I close the door and lock it again. I don't want anyone wandering in before we're open. I follow behind her, and as she sits on a bar stool, I move behind the bar. “Can I get you a coffee, Ms. Donald?”
She looks around as if expecting someone to come in and bring the coffee, but the espresso machine is here.
“Hmm, yes, please, Mr. Kade, that would be lovely. Can I have it white with one sweetener please?”
“Coming right up.” I turn to make the coffee for her and one for me, even though I have only just finished the last one. In truth, I could use a whiskey, but it's a bit too early for that, and I have a long shift ahead of me. I turn back and slide the coffees onto the counter between us. My cock is starting to deflate a bit now, thank fuck for that.
“Thank you, Mr. Kade.”
I nod at her. Time to get this interview going.
“So, Ms. Donald. I spoke to Mrs. Webster the Dean at NYCS and she tells me you passed your course with full honors, top of the school. Congratulations on that.”
She blushes and hangs her head down. I suspect she’s playing with her hands in her lap, but I can’t see them from behind the counter. “Yes, and thank you,” she says quietly.
“If you passed with full honors, why is it that you've not been snapped up by one of my rivals as yet?”
She lifts her head and smiles. “I was waiting for the right opportunity. I've had offers, but I didn’t think working for them would help my career but, rather hinder it, so I've not taken any of them up.”
“How so?”
“Well, my dream is to work for the top restaurant in New York City and work my way up to the top. Once you're in the top restaurant and reach the top, then the only progression from there is to run your own restaurant, just like you've done Mr. Kade. I've followed your career.” Wow, I'm mesmerized by her and the enthusiasm she has. “The way I see it is, if I take a job in one of the lower ranking restaurants, then it would take me twice as long to get to running my own. I would have to work my way up there, then work for the top restaurant and then onto my own.”
Ok, wow, at least she’s honest and knows what she wants. I don't have a problem with that. It’s inevitable that employees want to work here, to learn from the best, me of course, to then open their own restaurant, and I can’t stop it no matter what. So one of the clauses in my contract is that an employee can’t open a restaurant within twenty miles of one of mine and that they cannot use any of my dishes. That way, they will not be my direct competition.
“Well, thank you for being honest, Ms. Donald. If I do hire you, I do have clauses in my contracts to stop my employees opening up a restaurant within twenty miles of one of mine?”
“One of yours, Mr. Kade? I thought this was your only restaurant?”
“I’m in the process of opening one in LA, closely followed by London and Paris and maybe more around the US.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful, Mr. Kade, congratulations and how exciting.”
Well, fuck me, she’s happy for me. I can see it on her face that she means it.
I need to stop staring into those eyes. I can't help it. I'm just drawn in by the color. Ah, fuck she has freckles on her nose and a few on her cheeks. I never noticed before but up close, standing opposite her, there is something so pure about her. Shit, what were we saying? Oh, restaurants. “Will, that be a problem for you, Ms. Donald? Will it interfere with your plans to open a restaurant?”
“I don't think it would be a problem, Mr. Kade. I would never disrespect anyone that showed me respect.” This woman is something else.
“Do you have your own recipe ideas, Ms. Donald?” This is my trick question to see if a potential employee will share any ideas they have or keep them for themselves.
“I do, Mr. Kade. I have so many ideas. But I would never tread on anyone's toes here and would always seek advice from the head chef. I have a complete book of recipes. My specialty is trying out new ideas and new ways to cook. I would love to run some of my ideas past you to see if you thought they were up to standard for Casper's if you would like to see some?” She lights up when she talks about cooking. It's a pleasure to see, and one of the reasons she reminds me of myself. She has the raw passion for cooking that I can relate to. I see it written all over her f
ace. It’s the passion I have always had, even when things were tough for me. It was my way to escape, to immerse myself in something other than what was happening around me, to get lost in my head with recipes and ingredients.
“Yes, I would like that — to see some of your ideas. I can see how passionate you are about cooking. I have to say from the glowing report that Mrs. Webster gave you and seeing the passion for myself, I would be a fool not to hire you.”
I would also love to see if that passion transfers to the bedroom as well.
She looks shocked and takes a sip of her coffee, keeping her eyes on me all the time. I can feel the spark. I’m sure she can feel it as well. I need to put a stop to this before it even gets off the ground. She lowers her cup and puts it on the bar “Are you offering me a job, Mr. Kade?”
I pick up my coffee and take a sip, this time keeping my eyes on hers as she puts me under some kind of spell with them. I take my time and see her swallow a few times in anticipation of me speaking. “Yes, Ms. Donald, I would like to hire you. I remember you from your work experience with us, although I was not a big part of your training, Francois gave glowing reports on you. If you want to think about it th…”
“No, I don't need to think about it. Yes, I would love to work for you, Mr. Kade.”
I laugh a little “Well, okay then, when can you start? My current commis chef leaves in four weeks, and I would like you to work alongside him for as long as you can, to see how the team works. So the sooner you can start, the better. I do need you to think about this, Ms. Donald, it's a very stressful work environment, especially if things go wrong, which they do quite often in a kitchen. I need to know you will be dedicated to the job and give it 110% of your commitment. Can you do that?” She goes to speak, but I hold my hand up to stop her and shake my head. “Let me finish. Go and think about this and if you can commit and give me 110% then I will make sure you take the steps needed to further your career. It will be early starts and late finishes on rotation. I need to know you can manage that?” She's sitting, nodding her head at me.
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