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2011-11-12

Very carefully, he watched her weave down the street. She moved with an easy air of confidence, occasionally chatting with the people she passed. She'd had a rough life, he knew, but she was the vision of congeniality and grace when in public. Young Sara Dawson had lived with her father and brother in the apartment below his for six months. She was coming up on her sixteenth birthday, and he had quite the present to give her.

Sara's father was an alcoholic. Every night, from upstairs he would hear the fight begin as Mr. Dawson began drinking he began yelling. Sara would do her best to appease him, or to protect her brother, but oftentimes she would carry the bruises for weeks. Derrick thought the color contrasted beautifully with the pale ivory of her skin, and the long blonde hair she wore in a braid down her back. The sight of them always urged him to add more, but he was careful. He had been a homicide detective - on the force 18 years - and he knew he had to cover his tracks and make this as untraceable as possible.

He started the day she moved in. He had noticed her bright blue eyes and cheerful smile first. At fifteen years old, she was already a knock out - with her long legs and adequate chest she could have easily passed for 20. He assisted moving boxes, stunned into silent altruism by her innocent beauty.

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From the first moment he knew that he had to have more. Within minutes, he was entertained by her easy - sardonic - humor. Her sarcastic edge made her appear years more jaded than she had any right to be. As soon as the boxes were moved in he settled into a plan. He had to have her, and he knew just how he wanted to do it.

Within two weeks, he had established an easy friendship with her, chatting as they passed in the hallways, helping carry groceries. He had gained her trust easily, and he was soon invited over for dinners or the occasional hockey game. He memorized her schedule and would watch as she actively engaged conversations - leaving the others feeling as though they had made a new best friend every time. Her intelligence and her social prowess ceaselessly amazed him, and he looked forward to seeing her curled up, beaten and broken - with the knowledge that he caused it.

On the day of her sixteenth birthday, Sara attended school, acting as though it were any other day. In her experience, the only difference was her dad started drinking earlier and she had more violence to deal with. She stopped at the market on her way home - planning on putting away the groceries and then retrieving her brother from day care. Derrick met her at the door to the building - apparently on his way out - and gallantly offered his assistance. Smiling her disarming smile, Sara took him up on it and gave him the lighter bag. The pair headed up the stairs to her apartment, and as she put the bag she was carrying on the table, she thanked Derrick with a kiss on the cheek.

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Turning, she strode into her bedroom - expecting him to let himself out as he had in the past.

Sara didn't expect the blow to the back of the head that left her unconscious.

She woke up in pain, her lower lip bitten and pulled as teeth dragged it out.

Having a high pain tolerance she didn't cry out, but instead tried to assess her situation as best her muddled head could. Derrick leaned over, smiling, having let go of her lip.

"Good to see your awake, sleeping beauty. " Derrick's voice was cold, crueler than Sara had ever heard it. She shivered, attempting to hide her fear. She had been tied up, spread eagle, on a cold metal table. In her silent evaluation, it didn't escape her notice that, while she still had her clothes on and was relatively unhurt, the bonds would prevent any movement, and there was an assortment of unkind looking items on the counter to her left. She didn't want to think what they could be used for.

"Derrick, why am I here?" Her voice was small and as she spoke again she tried to add more strength and courage to it. "Will you please let me go? I need to get my brother. "

"Sweets, you won't be leaving - or seeing your brother - for a while. Until I'm done with you, you're mine and will remain here.

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" Sara fidgeted, her eyes revealing the fear that the stubborn set of her chin refused to acknowledge. She thought, with her dad, she had seen the worst life had to offer. Derrick was looking forward to showing just how much worse life could get.

Slowly, he drew a pair of scissors out from his belt. He lined it up with the seam of her jeans, and cut from the ankle up, repeating it on the other side so he could remove them. A couple drops of blood gathered at the few places where he had carelessly nicked her. She didn't make a noise, but the contrast of the dark maroon against her skin nearly set him off. He drew in a breath to stabilize himself - he wanted this to be as excruciating as possible for her, to give in to his urges now would be too easy. Taking a large knife, he removed her shirt, leaving her in a pair of thin white panties and a light pink bra. He marveled at his prize, enjoying the quiver in her uneven rushed inhales. It was clear that she didn't dare make a sound, not that it would matter - in his preparations he sound-proofed every room of his apartment - she wouldn't have been heard in the next room, much less downstairs. With the knife, he slid up the edge of her panties, taunting her as he did so. "The picture's so pretty from here, but I think I shall wish to see what more there is to uncover. " He did the same to her bra and finally left her there naked and spread before him.

"I wonder, just what size those boobs are, I have to say they never looked as big as they do now.

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Why on earth would you hide those gems under heavy shirts and sweaters?" Sara didn’t answer; she glared at him slightly, but turned away - as if looking at him disgusted her. He continued talking however; attempting to goad her into a fight so that he could justify more affirmative action against her. "A 36DD, huh? I wonder if they're real. " The bruises from her father's rages covered her ribs and stomach, and as Derrick reached to grab one of her tits, he decided to see if they were still painful. At her jump and yelp, it appeared they were. As his hand roughly kneaded her breast, the other grabbed her face and turned her to face him. "You are an insolent cunt. When I ask you a question I expect an answer!" He slapped her hard, and grabbed her again, forcing her attention on his face. "Do you like what I'm doing? Are you afraid I'll stop if you fight? You're just a little whore aren't you, spurred on by someone taking what you gladly give out?" As if he had flipped a switch, Sara's temper snapped.

"You're just a prick who is incapable of getting a real woman so you abduct and rape girls who can't fight back.

If you weren't such a dumbshit, I may be afraid of you, but as it is you're nothing more than a blip. You're a worthless drip of a man whose intelligence can be measured in a thimble. I won't lower myself to give you the satisfaction of my fear. Quite frankly you aren't worth it. " Astounded by her break in composure, and the venom that filled her words, Derrick failed to notice her right hand working its way free of the bond.

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She continued, trying to keep his attention as she worked at loosening the knot. "You're attractive enough, so the only thing that I can guess is that a dumb shit like you can't get it up from a willing woman, is that it? Are you as shy as you are dumb? Or maybe you're just small. Wouldn't surprise me, given that your pick up truck screams 'over compensation. '" Enraged, Derrick slapped her, and proceeded to show her just how large his member is. As he was whipping out his formidable 18 inches, she finished freeing her hand, and gripped the knife he used to remove her shirt.

"You're nothing but a fucking cunt. This look small to you, slut? I hope you're ready because this is going to be filling every one of your fucking holes. " He leaned over and as he did she swiped at him with her newly freed hand, only to be rewarded with her head slammed against the table. He sported a new gash across his chest, thin and only lightly bleeding, but he was angrier now than he'd ever been. The control he'd shown, all his restraint was lost. He held her down and she struggled against him, trying once again to free her arm. She was yelling now, feeling his anger the fear had finally hit her. Her fear, her screams and her struggles turned him on, and in one thrust he penetrated her tiny little cunt. Tears rolled down her face as he ripped through her hymen, the blood providing the only lubrication. "You're awfully tight, slut.

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Do you like the way my cock feels as it's opening you, stretching you? Your cunt feels great to me. " She spit on him, but only succeeded in making him laugh. The speed of his thrusts quickened and she only hoped he was close to done. He slowed himself, using the last remnants of his control, and pulled out. He untied her legs and motion pressed himself into the equally tight chasm of her ass. Having had only her blood as lubrication, it took several tries to get in completely, listening to her plead and wail was worth it though.

"Please dont" he mocked, as he finally sheathed himself within her ass, he began to rapidly pick up speed until he felt his balls tightening. Her ass was bleeding now, providing lubrication as he slid in and out of her faster and faster. Groaning he came, deep inside her bowels. After he rolled off her, she slid easily into the fetal position crying. One of her arms was still tied, and - despite her despair - he could see her trying to undo it as she shook. He slapped her hard, and retied all of her limbs. He pushed the handle of a baseball bat inside of her and left her crying.

To be continued. Tell me what you think? It's my first story and any criticism is good criticism