It shouldn't have bothered her as much as it did, but it had left a little hollow space inside her all day. Rosa moves through the gym, switching off lights and powering down the treadmills, busying herself to try and push the thoughts out of her mind. She checks the changing rooms and reaches the front doors, emblazoned with the name of the gym, her gym, in mirror-image on the glass.
Rosa reaches up to slot the deadbolts into place. She's not tall and has to stretch her body to slip the bolts home, calves tensing under the tight activewear leggings as she goes up on tiptoes. With the premises secure, she relaxes against the door, forehead pressed against the glass, arms crossed defensively across her small breasts, hugging herself through the exercise vest. It shouldn't have hurt as much as this.
Rosa propels herself away from the doors towards the darkened spin cycle studio, grabbing a water bottle from the front desk on the way past and slipping her earbuds in. She passes the pictures of her and her husband, grinning with medals around their necks in Ironman contests, passes a floor-to-ceiling poster of herself in tight shorts and a sports bra, glowing, radiant, holding a pair of dumbbells out in front of her. She glances at it, at the smiling, confident face, the front-page of their social media account, the one with fifty thousand likes.
The spin studio is only lit by the emergency lighting at the door and is deathly quiet. Rosa goes to the cycle at the front, the one she was riding when she took the classes earlier today, the one in front of the mirrored wall facing the rows of empty cycles. She fumbles with her phone and kicks off her playlist, hears the thump of the music in her ears and begins to ride. She chooses a hard resistance programme, standing up in the saddle, looking back behind her and seeing the reflection of a late twenty-something woman with long dark hair in a loose ponytail, her bottom stretching and tensing as the muscles in her legs power her up the imaginary hill.
The other woman had looked very similar, and that had been what had driven the spike into her stomach. A few years younger, same height, with dark eyes like Rosa's and the same dark chocolate hair, a similar delicate face, standing at the door to the studio asking her for a few moments of her time before the class began. Rosa had engaged with her enthusiastically, always happy to see a new face in the class. But then the newcomer had asked some questions that had changed all that.
It had taken just one innocent question to bring her day crashing down: I'm trying to get back into shape after the baby. How much exercise should I do at the start?
Rosa clicks up the resistance, sweat beading on her back, seeping into the fabric of her tight grey exercise top. She can feel her body moving like a machine, the muscle groups contracting in a practiced, tightly orchestrated movement. Her friends have told her she has a figure to die for, and her husband pulls her close in unexpected moments to run his big, strong hands over her tight curves. But it's all an illusion, she has come to realise, hiding the broken bits underneath.
Her heart is pounding now, at the anaerobic threshold. She can feel the lactic acid building up, the burn in her legs as her muscles demand oxygen. Rosa fights for breath but still pushes harder, testing herself, looking for that endorphin rush to break her mood and erase those memories. She is a winner: she has the medals to prove it. There is absolutely nothing that she can't do once she puts her mind to it. It doesn't matter what the odds are, she will overcome them every time.
Her head drops between her bunched shoulders as she rides harder. She can see her picture-perfect body, worked so tirelessly over years. The music rises to a crescendo and she does a full minute as hard as she can go, feeling her body screaming at her, finally drowning out all thoughts.
The music ends, and she clicks the resistance down and leans back, legs idling now. She massages her tight thighs with her fingers, panting. Rosa shakes her head, loosening the taut tendons in her neck. She entwines her hands behind her and arches her back, stretching her arms out. It's a choreographed set of moves, pushing the lactic acid out of each set of straining muscles in turn. The adrenaline buzz enfolds her and finally her thoughts begin to drift.
Before she can react, a strap snakes around her forearms and a mighty tug forces her elbows together while dragging her backwards, toppling off the bike into a bear hug that pins her arms to her sides and squeezes the air out of her lungs. She is lifted off her feet and she lashes out violently with her legs but fails to connect with her assailant, feeling only air.
Rosa yells at the top of her voice. In answer, she is catapulted forwards and is dropped face first onto the mat. A body descends on her, a knee pressing heavily in the middle of her back while her fingers scrabble to rake her attacker's flesh.
"Careful," says a man's voice.
The tone is low and almost whispered. She yells again, emptying her lungs. Another strap is rammed between her teeth and she feels it tighten behind her head, gagging her. Rosa heaves mightily, but her assailant is too heavy, too powerful. She is fighting hard, even as the panic sets in, and a part of her is proud of that.
A large hand clamps around the back of her neck, pushing Rosa's gagged mouth into the matting, as the man shifts his weight down her body, pinning her by her neck and hips to the floor. She feels a hand tugging at her waist and she knows what's coming next. Rosa bucks wildly, but he has her trapped.
Relentlessly, the hand works the tight fabric of her leggings down, exposing her bottom first, and then her thighs. She feels the slap of a hand on her buttock.
"Be still, otherwise you won't enjoy this."
The leggings are pulled further down around her ankles, exposing her completely to him. Suddenly the weight is lifted, but before she can roll, she feels another strap pulled tight around her neck and she is tugged backwards until she is kneeling, back arched painfully.
"You have such a great body. I'm a huge fan."
Rosa grunts, head turning to try and glimpse the face of her attacker, but she feels the power of the man again, seizing her by the strap at her elbows, pulling her to her feet. His foot is planted on her leggings, still wrapped around her ankles, making it impossible for her to run. The strap around her neck is pulled down hard, forcing her to double over and she realises that he means to secure her in a precarious bent-over position.
Rosa heaves with her stomach churning, trying to straighten, but she feels the man's body weight on the strap, pulling her head further and further towards her ankles. She screams again, but it comes out as a muffled gasp. The strap in her mouth is leather, maybe a belt, and she bites hard into the unyielding surface as she watches rough hands weave the other end of her neck strap between her ankles. The man steps back. She can hear him breathing heavily at the exertion of keeping her under control.
"What a pretty sight. You know what comes next, right?"
Rosa closes her eyes, burning with humiliation and rage. All the strength exercises, all the body conditioning, and it hasn't made any difference: she's now bent over and helpless, opened up to whatever he wants to do to her. Worse, she feels the combination of adrenaline and shock forcing her body to betray her. A hand is laid on her exposed slit.
"You're wet already. You enjoying this?"
A finger traces its way along her pussy lips, sending a thrill deep inside her. She feels a hand on each buttock, thumbs either side of her slit. Pressure is applied, pulling her lips apart, showing her assailant her moist, pink opening. Rosa tenses, trying hard to stay balanced and not pitch over, but her head is reeling and she feels disorientated and destabilised by the suddenness of the assault. But the man's hands stay where they are, his thumbs parting her, as if he is waiting.
Rosa feels a breeze across the dampness of her lips. Through her legs, she sees the figure sink to his knees. She feels the air again and realises that it's his breath. His face must be very close to her pussy. Rosa is completely helpless now; she has no choice but to wait.
Her clit is tickled by something soft, warm and pliable and she realises it's his tongue pressing into her. Such a delicate touch is shocking after the preceding violence and power of her attacker. She can feel his tongue working its way from her clit, along her slit, to slip inside her. She wriggles her hands, but they are wrapped tightly at the wrists, her fists bumping impotently against the base of her spine. All she can do is stare down at her feet. She suddenly writhes, powerfully, grunting in anger and frustration, testing the strap binding her neck to her ankles.
She feels the sharp sting of a slap on her buttock, not hard, almost playful, but it shocks her. It's enough to tell her to stay still.
"Calm down. You're going to enjoy this if you give it a chance. The last thing I want is you falling and hurting yourself."
Her heart is pounding now, the adrenaline in full flow. She has to get free, but there's no way out: he's tied her too well. Rosa realises she's now completely helpless, she has no choice but to wait for her attacker to have his way. He has such control over her body and movements that she can't even scream.
The tongue dips into her again, teasing her pussy lips and then circling her clit. She can feel his thumbs spreading her, opening her hole to admit his probing tongue. Lips purse against her sensitive little nub and she feels him suck at her, sending a spike of unexpected pleasure into her core.
"That's better."
She can feel herself moistening, and she knows he can feel it too. Rosa grunts in frustration as her body betrays her.
"You want more?" he says. "I know you do, I can taste it. I'm going to love this, and I think so will you. Your dirty little rape fantasy coming true."
Rosa hears movement, then the sound of a zip, and is suddenly frozen in place. She knows she's about to be entered, and there's nothing she can do about it. What's more, the helplessness is triggering something inside her, an unexpected longing. She's trying to fight it but she's falling under his control.
There is a strange sensation of friction, something rubbing in the little gap between her thighs. It feels too large for a finger, and suddenly she knows what he's doing. Upside-down, she cranes her neck to look up her legs to her crotch: nestled there between her legs is his cock, gently rubbing the length of his shaft along her slit, his purple head moving in and out of her thigh-gap. The friction on her clit is exquisite: she can feel every vein and ridge of his manhood. Her traitorous throat emits a low moan.
"That's better. It's going to happen anyway so you might as well relax and let yourself enjoy it."
She is suddenly filled by him, as he slides himself deep into her gaping hole. Rosa contracts her pelvic floor powerfully, trying to exclude his cock from her pussy, but he pushes himself into her anyway. She hears him gasp and she knows he's relishing the feeling of her resistance to him.
Fight it, I want you to. You can't stop me. I want you to see there's nothing you can do," he murmurs, "You feel so tight like this."
The cock withdraws, only to be thrust into her again, this time more easily as she begins to coat his manhood with her juices. Her resistance fades as a warm glow begins to build inside her. She shakes her head wildly, trying to lock onto the rage and the frustration, but his relentless strokes are confusing her, as she feels her body welcoming the intruder. The more she tries not to, the more she finds herself focusing on the cock invading her, making her want more of the feeling. Rosa realises that she's now moaning through the gag.
"There you go, that's the idea. You just need to stand there nicely and accept the fucking."
Fingers trace along her pussy lips until they find her clit. He applies a gentle pressure, moving in slow circles with his fingertips even as he begins to drive his cock harder into her. Struggling with this new stimulation, Rosa closes her eyes and bites deep into the strap between her teeth, adamant that she won't make a sound.
In answer, the fingers toy with her clit with renewed vigour, and all the while his cock begins to build up pace as he thrusts it into her. It's too much and she exhales a long, lingering groan. The assault begins to dissolve in the haze of needing to be brought to a climax by her assailant's manhood.
"Good girl. You need this, don't you? Just relax and let me give it to you. You don't have a choice anyway."
The fingers disappear and she feels two powerful hands grab each buttock, splaying and gripping her as he begins to stroke deep into her sopping pussy. She knows she's lost, and the anger wells up in her. But it's anger at herself for becoming this man's plaything, letting him know that she's ready for him, that she is waiting to be made to cum.
He begins to drive into her in earnest now. She can feel his balls slapping against her clit as he buries himself, stroke after stroke. He picks up the tempo, hitting her faster until she's groaning continuously, needing to be brought to climax. The tension in her core is too much, she knows she has no choice now.
Rosa orgasms, hard. She feels herself convulse and then her juices are squirting out, coating her attacker's legs. It's his trigger, and she feels him erupt inside her, still thrusting, as he pumps his load into her. Her body registers each erratic pulse of his cock within her, slowing now. He eventually comes to a shuddering halt, and she can feel him still pulsing, filling her. He lingers there, inside her, and her traitorous body relishes the sensation. Then he pulls out.
She feels his rough hand on her bottom, patting her. He kneels down behind her and she feels his finger slip inside her.
"Oh, you are so wet. I hope that was good for you too."
The finger is withdrawn and she feels a hand behind her head, tugging. The strap in her mouth drops away and she gasps for air. Her attacker pushes the moistened finger into her mouth and she can taste the mixed juices of herself and his cum on her tongue. In a daze, with her blood rushing to her head, her lips close around his finger and she sucks, tasting his finger.
"Ah," he laughs, "So... you like that? Shall I give you some more? There's plenty."
Rosa doesn't answer and instead the man stands up. He loosens the straps around her wrists and her hands wriggle free. She begins to tug at her ankles, unwinding the neck strap, freeing herself and straightening up. She has to fight the dizzy feeling as the blood drains from her head and it takes her eyes a few moments to refocus.
She is alone.
---
In the showers, Rosa lets the water sluice over her body. Gingerly, she spreads herself wide with her fingers and begin to wash herself, head resting against the cool tiles. Afterwards, she dresses, picking up her bag and keys and heading for the door. She sees him standing there, waiting for her.
"Making me taste it was a bit much."
"You took it, though."
"I didn't have much choice. You had me bent over double."
He strokes her cheek and leans in to kiss her gently on the lips.
"You looked so fucking hot bent over like that, I couldn't control myself. How was it?"
"Oh Aidan, you really wanna know?"
He kisses her again.
"I came like a freight train."
"I could feel it. But you knew it was me though, right?"
Rosa puts her arms around him, holding him close, feeling the warmth of her husband's body against hers, enjoying the afterglow.
"Really babe? I wasn't sure. But it felt so good that I just decided to enjoy it, whoever it was. That it turned out to be my husband was an added bonus."
Aidan has no comeback and Rosa leans back to study his bewildered expression.
"I was confused," she continues, "You're not usually such a stud."
Rosa begins to grin and it's Aidan's cue to smile back.
"Gotcha. Let's get home," she says.
As they drive home she sits in the passenger seat, knees pulled up to her chest, feeling the radiance inside as she replays the memories back to herself. But in her head, unspoken, is a little part of her that for a moment hadn't been sure it was her husband, a part that always acknowledged the dangers of locking up the gym alone on a night, a part that always looked twice at the darkened corners. Yet, her body had welcomed it, the thrill of abandoning herself to a stranger. She'd stepped outside herself for just a moment, out of her marriage and her troubles, and it had felt like heaven.
[Author's note: This story will continue over 13 chapters. Next chapter: As Rosa and Aidan try to fall pregnant, Aidan proposes an innocent game to spice up their sex life.
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