Taking ten breaths to try and calm myself down, I peered into the open bedroom door of the guest room and not seeing anyone, I dragged the policemen back to the sitting room by the entranceway where I had been found earlier. I checked both policemen for signs of life and was relieved to find that they were still alive.
A familiar iron grip dragged me upright and I was carried struggling into my bedroom where I was dropped on the floor. The man was still wearing my bath towel.
"I need some dry clothes," the man informed me impatiently. "Do you have anything in my size? I couldn't find anything just now."
I stammered incoherently and was shoved into my walk-in wardrobe. His silhouette blocked the door. Rummaging through my clothes by feel, I found one of the oversized t-shirts I kept to wear when I just wanted to lounge about the house in comfort. I passed it to him with a trembling hand.
"Thank you," he said politely. "Any shorts or trousers?"
Shuffling to a different part of my wardrobe, I found the garbage bag where I kept all the clothes I didn't want anymore and was planning to gift to someone or donate to charity. There were some oversized clothes in there that an aunty had once bought me without knowing my size. There was a large checkered pair of shorts in there. Hopefully they would do.
I found them by feel and the dim light afforded by the occasional flash of lightning outside my bedroom window. I hadn't closed the bedroom curtains earlier.
"I hope this fits," I said, passing the shorts to the man. The towel was tossed on my head, making me flinch and I heard the sound of him putting the shorts on.
"Mmm," the man grunted. "It's a bit tight but it'll do for now. You should change into dry clothes. You're all wet. Don't catch a cold. Where's the laundry? I want to use the washing machine."
"T-two doors down on the right," I said. "Next to the kitchen."
"Have a warm shower to warm yourself up. Your skin is so cold. After you've finished changing," the man said after grunting to acknowledge my instructions, "stay here. I don't want you wandering around and causing trouble. I'll go out and deal with those policemen you called over. Be good and you won't get hurt."
After his shadow had left, I didn't bother going to take a shower. I just changed into dry clothes and threw my wet clothes in a pile in the bathroom.
The man returned and I felt his hand stroke my head and then cheeks.
"Have a hot shower," he commanded me, "unless you want me to shower you?"
I shook my head emphatically and shivered at the thought. He pushed me into the bathroom and took my wet clothes away.
The lights flickered back on and I stared at my dishevelled appearance in the mirror.
"If you don't start showering immediately," I heard a heavy hand knock on the bathroom door, making me jump, "I'm coming in there."
I held my chest and panted. All these scares and the stress were really getting too much for me to handle.
I turned on the shower so he would at least hear the sound of the shower before I got undressed. It was probably the fastest shower I had ever had in my life.
I rushed out only to realise I had no towel. He had taken my towel. I had no spare towels in my room either. What should I do?
The doorbell rang and there was a banging on the front door and window. Faintly, I heard the shouts above the sound of the leaving storm.
"Police! Open up!"
I jammed my dry clothes onto my wet body and rushed out to open the door, only to bump into the stranger.
He caught me into his arms and looked down at me.
"What did I just tell you? Go back into your room and stay there. I'll handle this."
Obediently, I went back to my room and peered out of my bedroom door to see him pick up the policemen on the floor who had just begun to stir. He had one policeman in each hand, holding them by their collars. He opened the door and the storm rushed into the house. The security door was already open. The man thrust the two barely conscious policemen out the door into the officers at the door and then pushed all the officers out beyond the security door. He fought to close and lock the security door.
The lights flickered back on and I saw one policeman looking at me and surreptitiously pointing, mouthing, "Back door."
Blinking a moment, I nodded and raced for the back door, only to be brought to my knees when something heavy struck the back of my knees. I heard the slam and lock of the front wooden door and scrambled back upright to get to the back door. My fingers fumbled with the locks.
The sharp pain of my hair being pulled when my head was yanked back made me cry out.
"What did I tell you?" the man growled in my ears. "Will you only listen after you've been punished?"
I was thrust face first down onto my dining table and held there, while the man grabbed something nearby and slammed it down onto my backside. I was spanked until I danced, screaming and begged for mercy. Then I was dragged back to my bedroom and thrown back inside.
"Stay there this time," the man growled at me. "I can't promise I won't hurt you if you make me lose my temper. Behave. I'll be gone once the storm is over."
I hadn't managed to even catch a glimpse of the man's face. It was as if he was purposely ensuring I wouldn't see it. Not that I wanted to. He was probably an ugly muscle man.
I stood gingerly in my room, unable to sit or lie down on my back due to the burning pain in my buttocks. My rear end would probably be bruised for the week.
There was a flash of artificial light from my window and I saw a policeman outside it gesturing at me. As carefully and quietly as I could, I opened my bedroom window as wide as it could go, ignoring the wind and rain. After the policemen helped me remove the flyscreen, I began trying to climb out the window.
My bedroom door slammed open and the policemen hurried to help me out, but a hand caught my shirt, ripping it while being pulled back. Those strong hands fumbled and played a tug of war with the policemen on a ladder outside my window. A hand around my neck choked me, yanking me back. I was tossed back inside the room while the man slammed my window shut and locked it, glaring at the police outside. He drew the curtains and the lights chose that moment to flicker out again.
"I guess you weren't punished enough," he snarled at me, ripping my clothes off while I screamed and fought him with all I had. I didn't know what he used to hit me with, but it was relatively thin with a flat end and hard.
He carried me into the kitchen where he took his time binding my naked body to a kitchen chair with a roll of sticky tape. Then he looked me up and down with a glint in his eyes.
"You aren't half bad," he murmured into the relatively quiet moment left in between the rolls of thunder. His hands wandered my body, making me tremble and shiver beneath the calloused hands. His fingers lingered over sensitive places, pinching me lightly. I tried not to gasp, but he seemed to have heard it, making him give a soft laugh.
He left me there, shivering and exposed. Completely vulnerable.
In the meantime, he raided my fridge and pantry, cooking up a pot of pasta using the gas camping stove he must have found in the pantry, since the electric stovetop was useless at the moment. He ate with gusto and then emptied the rest of the pot into the plate he had just used. With the same spoon he had just eaten with, he scooped up a spoonful of pasta and blew on it, before bringing it to my mouth.
I turned my head aside.
"Eat," he commanded, chasing my mouth with the spoon and smearing pasta on my cheek. I turned my head the other way and knocked the spoon away, causing it to drop onto one thigh, making me hiss at the scalding heat.
One hand caught me by the jaw and I felt unhappy eyes glaring at me in the dark. He force-fed me but not without a fight that resulted in me getting pasta all down my chest and lap.
I breathed a sigh of relief when the plate was empty and he took it to the sink to wash. I felt exhausted and closed my eyes to rest for a moment.
The feeling of something warm and wet licking me made me startle. I must have fallen asleep for a moment. Strong hands held me steady in my chair so that I wouldn't tilt over and fall together with the seat.
"I thought you perhaps dirtied yourself because you wanted this type of attention, hmm?" the man said from where he was crouching, licking the pasta up from where it had fallen on my skin.
All my goosebumps rose, following wherever his tongue had been. He went from my checks and lips to my chest, pausing to suckle at my nipples and laughing at my reaction. Then he went down my abdomen, up my thighs and between my legs.
He teased me with his tongue until I felt my toes all curling. I was determined not to let him make my body react in any way but rejection. I felt disgusted, being covered in his saliva.
"Ah," he sighed eventually, "you're such a good girl. After all my efforts, you're still so dry."
Patting me on the head, he dragged me to the shower where he washed me while on my kitchen chair both carefully and thoroughly.
"You're really a hard girl to please, aren't you?" he shook his head at me in exasperation when I shut my eyes and refused to look at him or respond. "You're still a virgin, right? What a good girl."
He used moisturiser to lubricate his fingers and then carefully thrust one in to check, making me open my eyes and gape at him with a scream while I writhed.
"Good girl," he told me with a thoughtful sound, withdrawing his hand. "I'll tell you what. I've never kept a girl before. I always thought they were noisy and troublesome, but you are relatively quiet even when you're being disobedient. I think you'll be just right for me after I've trained you a bit more. I've taken a liking to you and your body. You taste lovely. You aren't like those women who throw themselves at me while caked in cosmetics and perfumes."
I stared at him in horror, completely flabbergasted at what he was saying. Who wanted to be his girl? Certainly not me!
"When the storm is over, I'll have to leave in order to avoid the police, but don't worry," he kissed my cheek. "I'll be back for you. From now on, you're mine."
Cutting me free from my kitchen chair, he dragged me into my walk in wardrobe where he found a towel to dry my struggling body with. Then he chose my clothes via the flashes of lightning, making me get dressed. Once I was clothed and he was satisfied, he forced me to sit down on the bed while he towel dried my hair.
His hands on my head were strangely gentle, confusing me.
Was he an evil rough man or was he a gentleman? Wait. No. How could he, an intruder into my home, be a gentleman?
He was a bad guy. Definitely a bad guy. Look how rough he'd been with me earlier, knocking me out, nearly strangling me to death and tossing me on the floor.