Martina's Struggle

Martina Gonzales was late getting home from work. It had been an extremely long fourteen-hour day, and her feet were sore to the bones from walking back and forth from the dining room to the kitchen. She was covered with splattered food that had hit her when putting the plates and glasses into her bussing tray, and her uniform would need at least one trip into the wash. To make things worse, the wait staff had tipped her poorly. At least when she turned twenty-one next month, and could start waiting instead of bussing the money would be better. She was going to have to buy books next week for the coming semester as well as keep gas in her car.

When she had arrived at the small red brick town house the only thing that kept her moving was, knowing that her roommates Shelly and Tara were gone. They had gone home over the summer break while Martina slugged away in the summer schedule. Their parents gave them all they needed, and had no idea what it was like to have to cover part of your education, as well as room and board. At least the bitches paid their share of rent while they were gone.

She opened the front door wearily, taking three attempts just to get the key in. Half stumbling, half removing her offending work shoes, she managed to squeeze her five-foot frame through the door. She was small in almost every respect. She only weighed one hundred and ten pounds. Which was just enough to actually have boobs and an ass that were big enough to cover her ribs and hipbones respectively. Tonight since she was working she had her thick black hair pulled back tight and braided in one thick strand that stopped just below her belt line. Her skin was unblemished, and the light brown color typical of Latin women. Martina's eyes were dark and intelligent, surrounded by a slightly round face with striking cheekbones, and well-maintained eyebrows.

Martina couldn't even put her tiny purse down before he was on her. His grip was vice-like on her upper arms inciting her to shout with surprise. Impossibly strong, he threw her across the tiny tiled entryway into the stairs. The purse flew away from her, and she hit her head on one of the stairs as her body collided with them. Fireworks went off behind her dark brown eyes, and her left knee throbbed from it's own blow on the tile.

He switched the deadbolt into place, and rapidly pulled the security chain through its track. When he turned, Martina could make out a massive man through the haze that flooded her mind. Trying to pick up the pace of her memory she told herself.

“White male, six-foot maybe three inches. Two hundred-fifty pounds.”

“You better add a foot darling…for what's in my pants.”

His voice was guttural, and menacing.

The attacker stomped across the tile, his heavy lugged work boots making intimidating thuds as he approached. Turning she tried to crawl up the stairs away from him, but he kicked her squarely in the ass propelling her up two stairs, and splitting her bottom lip on a third. Tailbone throbbing, and lip spurting blood, she tried crawling up, away from the madman.

“Where do you think you're going honey? Oh, I see you want to take me to bed. Don't worry sugar, I'll fuck you good.”

He was conversationally threatening her. And she was pulled involuntarily to her feet when he grabbed her braid and yanked her up. Martina was half dragged half walked up the stairs. Balance was not hers anymore; it belonged to the man's grip on her hair. At will he could pull her down, or leave her on her feet. She spat blood from the busted lip, and her work shirt was now covered in plasma, as well as food.

Once at the top of the stairs he shoved her forward and Martina fell to her knees spitting more blood. He moved to her side and gave her a swift kick in the ribs.

“Plenty of time to be on your knees later hon.”

Now he had her by the waistband of her pants, and she tried kicking him like a mule, but the foul man caught her ankle with his boot, and stepped down hard on it. A lightening bolt of pain ran up her leg, and a sick crunch was heard. Her right ankle gave way and shattered beneath the boot.

“Now that's no way to welcome your lover.”

He was breathing a little harder now.

“Suppose you just can't wait to get me to bed. At least your friends are gone, we can just get started right here seeing as it's gonna be private.”

Squealing with agony the entire time, she was thrown onto her back. She tried to move, to find purchase, but he was straddling her too quickly. When she tried to claw him off he pulled back a large hand and slapped her repeatedly, spraying fine droplets of her blood on the wall each time. Finally he caught her hands, and wrapped both wrists with his immense left hand ending her struggle.

Martina could feel his sweat mixing with her, and he leaned down and licked her lower lip. His saliva burned in her open wound, and she started screaming for help.

“No help for you sweetheart, it's well past everyone else's bedtime.”

As the whimpers began escaping her lips, he took a large hunting style knife from somewhere behind him and eased it under her shirt, concluding by savagely ripping it back to him leaving her white work shirt in tatters. Through tears, she saw that he was now doing the same to her sports bra.

“Beautiful darlin. Just beautiful.”

Still holding her arms he moved his weight back to her thighs and cut her belt off, then he cut the buttons out of her button down fly jeans.

Putting the knife to her throat and pressing enough to cause a crease in the skin on her neck he spoke sweetly now.

“I'm going to let go of your hands now darlin, you just take those pants down while I smell your hair, if you try anything I'll cut your nice smooth throat, and you won't be able to know what it was like to fuck me.”

He moved his hand back to the braid of her hair, and leaned his nose to her ear. Martina could smell his rancid breath, and feel his respiration in her ear. Sobbing now she slowly moved her hands to her pants, and underwear, moving them together she lowered them just below her knees. That was as far as she could go with out cutting herself on the blade. Crying, she laid her hands on the floor by her head.

“That's it darlin just whisper into my ears. He said when she croaked with the perversion and disgust.

He slapped the insides of her legs, until against the agony of her broken ankle she separated them, then he reached down and with his free hand and undid his pants. Using her right breast brutally as a handle he kept the blade on her and aimed his penis to her crotch. It took him several tries, but finally he found the entrance, and started pushing.

The barbarian hadn't lied much about his size. He was huge, and as he pushed more of it into her she felt like she would burst. There was no compassion in him either. He never backed up, just kept going deeper and deeper until he hit her cervix. Then he lay still a moment and spoke to her soothing now.

“See gorgeous, I knew you could do it.”

Seconds later he began ramming her like a piston. Rhythmic and forceful he pounded her bottoming at the end of every stroke, grunting with every withdraw. It seemed to last for ever in and out in and out. Her insides felt like they would be ripped from her body. Finally she wailed, and began trembling thoroughly humiliated and writhing in pain. Almost as if he began feeling sorry for her, he stopped when she started trembling.

“Aw darlin, I'm glad it was good for you.”

He pulled out in one jerk, and put his knife away. Then grabbing her hair braid pulled her to her feet. Ankle buckling and her knees wavering, Martina was being held up by the man's hold on her hair and nothing else. Then he started moving.

He forced her to walk, yelping and crying, tears streaming down her face. Blood covered her chest, and left a trail down her torso from the broken lip. He only dragged her ten feet, but it felt like miles to Martina.

“Now it's my turn darlin, you just suck me good and no biting.”

He was now tying the braid of her hair to her own bedroom doorknob. One quick knot that made her feel like the back of her head would explode. Then he was coming to her again. The knife in his right hand again, his disgusting giant cock in the other.

She tried putting her hands up, but he just dropped his cock and closing his fist, punched her in the nose. There was a sick crack, a brief spray of snot and blood, and Martina knew it was broken. Blood streamed from it adding to the mess of her lip. Her eyes completely out of focus, and her entire head throbbing with pain, she relented. The fight had been beaten completely out of her.

He shoved his tool into her mouth, past the split lip and through the disgust that now coated her face. Then in a sweet voice he added insult to injury.

“That's it whore suck it good, so that my cum spills out when I slit your throat.”

“NOOOOOO!”

Martina screamed and sat bolt up right in bed clawing at the air all around her. She was covered in sweat and fear. Twice in as many nights she had the same dream. Twice she came to the same decision…She would die first.

“NEVER YOU BASTARD, FUCKING NEVER!”