Collecting Rayne

by Havok, Rayne

  No deviations.

  That is the one absolute.

  So now is the time, the objective is clear, and everything is going to go as planned. All I have to do is focus on what I want the outcome to be and bring it to fruition.

  I can do this.

  I’m ready.

  I’m dressed in dark colored clothes, making my way to the window that will let me peer into the Clark’s living room. When I don’t see her there, I imagine she’s already in her bedroom.

  Sneaking in the darkest of shadows over to that window, careful not to stumble or make any noise to sound the alarm, I inch forward.

  I made it a point to unscrew the light bulb, that is motion-activated, the other day, realizing that it could have been my downfall if left forgotten or neglected.

  I make it here easily enough, peering inside and around the curtain left with just a sliver of an opening. I catch sight of Hannah’s reflection from the mirror in her bathroom. She’s at the sink wearing a t-shirt and nothing else. This, I’ve come to realize, is her pajamas.

  Presently, she is furthest from the front door, so when I sneak over to it now to ring the doorbell, I know I’ll have enough time to make it through the window I’ve jimmied and into my hiding spot before she’s made it back to her room again.

  I thought that ringing the bell would be best, the house is too small to sneak around unheard, having the sound of Hannah’s footfalls envelop my own is the perfect cover.

  Plus, I kind of like the idea of her being on guard. Yes, it could be young kids fucking around at her door, but it could also be me.

  Settling in, having made sure to get everything back the way it was before shimmying through the window, I get comfortable—as comfortable as one large man can be inside a small closet.

  She’s back in a few minutes, carrying a snack plate with some cut-up fruit on it and a glass of water.

  Clicking the TV on, she settles under the covers, head propped against too many pillows left at the headboard, and watches some talk show. I figure she’s tucked in for now, so I hunker down in the closet, door slightly ajar, and watch her watching the show. The smile on her face lit up by the glow of the screen, laughing when it’s the more obvious jokes. She giggles and crunches her food while I wait.

  The host is just about to introduce a new guest when the screen announces a countdown for the sleep timer, flashing numbers descending from thirty, finally going dark when it reaches one. Only then do I let myself get excited.

  I give it a full twenty minutes more, running the plan through again, making it very clear that she is asleep. Her soft breathing—not a snore, but a heavier version of breath, deep and melodious. Possibly the most relaxing sound on earth, keeping my heartrate in normal range, and soothing my anticipation. I have her to thank for being my calm before her storm.

  Soundlessly moving the door open, I keep my eyes trained on Hannah. She is faced away from me, lying on her side. I take my sweatpants off and leave them crumpled in a ball on my shoes. After silently leaving my hiding spot, I unroll the condom onto my already hardened cock to keep my DNA from becoming a part of the scene.

  It feels good to think that this is finally happening, my dick hasn’t been in a resting position for weeks. I can’t fucking wait for this release, she is the epitome of my decline in sanity, embodying everything I need to conquer to get back to my façade of normalcy.

  The next part has to be done quickly. Even though it’s mostly dark in here, I can’t count on that being good enough for my anonymity, thusly defeating the entire purpose of all of this.

  Slipping the pillow case I brought from home, brand new and opened only after I had my gloves on, over her head. I’m able to hold her still fairly easily when she awakens startled and begins to struggle. I tighten a large zip tie around her throat to keep it in place, but with enough room for her to breathe easily enough. Then, using the smaller one around both of her wrists, I hold them above her head, dragging her legs over the edge of the bed, presenting her ass to me.

  After removing her tiny panties, I try to take my time, slipping my fingers into the opening of her pussy, the slickness between her lips—I know is not for me, but it is there and she smells sweet. I want to taste her, but I can’t get my saliva on her.

  I do take a moment to finger her and rub her against my latex-covered cock. Feeling the heat coming from her insides, warm and welcoming. I shove in to her, burring my cock deep inside her hot hole, every inch of me sheathed.

  I push into her, trying to make her enjoy this so I can hear what she sounds like when she’s fucked, but there’s nothing. She’s silent whether I’m slow or fast and it’s infuriating me.

  Not even a scream, she just lays there as I try to coax anything from her. I take my hand from around her wrists and she keeps them above her head without prompting.

  She’s passive and meek, maybe she’s too scared to react, maybe this is what they teach women to do if there is someone raping them. Who the fuck knows, all it’s doing is making me mad.

  Grabbing a fist full of her hair I wrench her head up toward me, changing the gruffness of my voice, I almost growl into her ear, “you better fucking hope I’m satisfied with this or I’m coming back.”

  She whines when her head hits the mattress but remains quiet otherwise. That, coupled with the fact that this condom is making it impossible to feel anything, I’m getting fucking pissed.

  My thrusts are rougher than I wanted them to be, my aggression is overflowing. My cock needs the attention it’s been demanding. I need more from her—anything really! and she’s giving me fucking nothing.

  Gritting my teeth, I kick her legs apart and use both my arms to pull her hips into me with each thrust, as little as she is, I know this hurts. I relentlessly pound her until finally she cries, breathlessly begging that I stop. At last, I feel something in my dick. Reaching from the depths of my soul, I come hard inside the condom, wishing I could be filling her tenderized hole.

  Slipping my cock from her slowly, milking the last of my come into the receptacle, I let her feel relaxed enough to think this is over. She doesn’t have to know that I have more in store for her just.

  Tugging off the used condom and knotting it. I get another out of my shirt pocket and slip it on, I’m still hard enough to go again right now. I have a month of pent up torment from her. Tantalizing me with her alluring innocence and forbiddenness. Practically begging to be looked at and fucked, and then offering nothing after the hook was in.

  I’m seething again at the thought of it all, so frustrated that she’s done this to me.

  She’s turned me into a rapist.

  A fucking creep.

  Peeping tom.

  And an angry dick torturer who’s had to resort to countless hours of solo tugging, like an ugly fucking reject, who isn’t worthy of her magical, stupid, fucking pussy!

  Unable to lube her asshole with anything, not even my spit, I try to force my way inside with only the slickness of the condom. Her legs thrash and she struggles to scurry up the bed and away from me, but I am faster. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I lift her up and shove her body hard against the wall and enter her.

  Fucking her ass hard while trying to reach a level of satisfaction that will alleviate this ache in my balls, she screams and I don’t try to silence her, I relish the tears, I crave more of them.

  She created me.

  My cock hunts for relief. Deeper and deeper I root inside until I feel a slickness that I can only attribute to her bleeding, and that’s what finally undoes me. I needed to hurt her like she’s been hurting me. I come, from the deepest parts of my balls, I feel the release and it makes me moan in a way that tells me I’ve done it.

  I got what I came here for.

  Letting Hannah go, her body slides down the wall and onto the floor. I move around the room, collecting everything I need to leave with, pants and shoes back on, two condoms with wrappers accounted for.

  Leaving her as is, covered with
the pillow case that will not lead back to me, mewing on the floor, unable to move. I walk out the front door, ensuring I won’t fumble getting out it or accidently leave anything behind, closing it tightly.

  Sneaking back into my house through the side yard furthest from her house, I toss the incriminating things into my burn-bag and get inside the house unfettered.

  It’s cool enough that no one will think it’s strange that I have a fire burning. I started it before I left, so you couldn’t even say it was befitting of this reason. I toss the whole thing in, watching for a moment as the edges start to singe. Finally stepping into the shower, scrubbing hard and using more soaps than any of my ex’s ever have. The bathroom is a cloud of condensation that I wipe from the mirror.

  I feel as though that may have been exactly what I needed, that it should bring me back down and make it possible for me to live outside the obsessive loop of Hannah’s torment.

  The red and blue lights strobing through the window put a quickness in my step. A multitude of car doors slam, letting me know there is more than a couple cruisers arriving.

  White lady in low crime rate subdivision, better send the best of the best. I was prepared for this.

  I turn the hair dryer on so it’s not so obvious I am freshly showered. Then I throw on a pair of basketball shorts and go downstairs.

  Rubbing pretend sleep from my eyes as I pull the door open and put on my best impression of ‘guy who was in bed, woken by the ruckus’ act.

  Standing on the top of my three-step entryway, I holler to the police officer closest to me who had already been made aware of my appearance when he caught me open the door. “Sir?” I thumb over to the Clark’s house, confusion and concern in my voice. “What’s going on over there?”

  “You know your neighbors?” he asks, pulling a notebook from his chest pocket as he walks over to me. Stopping at the bottom of the steps, looking at me as though he can see through any line of bullshit I feed him, so I better make it the truth—all done with a simple lift of an eyebrow, clicking the pen a few times just to make sure it’s functional.

  He’s good, I’ll give him that and things are going about exactly as I thought they might.

  “I do, Hannah and Steven Clark. Been there at least the three years I’ve been here. What’s happened? Please.” Urgency in my voice and worry on my brow.

  “It seems we had a break in. You wouldn’t happen to have seen anything would you? Anyone in the neighborhood looking suspicious. I’d say,” looking down at his too-fancy watch, “about half an hour ago?”

  “Oh man, no, I was in bed, watching TV. Is everything ok? Steven is out of town. I was supposed to keep an eye on the place.” Time now, for regret and worry.

  “She’s going to be fine; it looks as though it might have been more a personal attack, nothing appears to be taken. So, when you say ‘keep an eye on the place’, what does that entail, exactly?” his lips pucker as though he’s really trying to make me see his curiosity.

  “Oh, you know, in the way you kind of say it, but don’t really mean it. I wasn’t supposed to do anything but passively keep an eye out, you know?”

  “Yea, sure, so you didn’t see anything strange?” as though he realizes I wasn’t meant to be an armed guard, ready to disarm any foe who may find his ass on the wrong side of the Clark’s door, and more plainly a neighbor just keeping it copacetic, he seems to relent.

  “Nothing at all, I’d be the first to investigate it too.” I try to put on a macho tough guy act, like I’m more one of the boys than an evil neighbor dirty deeding the block. I’m only here to be on the record that I was home and get my alibi together. Could there be a better way to do that than having a blue-blood vouch for me?

  “Good for you,” tucking his cop-props back into his pocket, “although if you see anything later tonight, just give us a call, best not to confront someone like this. It was pretty brutal.”

  Before he turns to go, I come out into the porch light more, showing that I’ve got no visible marks on my shirtless body, if they’re wondering if she fought or scratched her assailant, they won’t look at me suspiciously. I’ll have a cop who saw me mere moments later with no signs of a fight.

  I should be all clear and they can find the miscreant elsewhere.

  “Thank you for doing what you do. I know you can’t get there before it happens, but I appreciate you making it your mission to catch the fuckers who do this.”

  He tips his hat at me and nods. “It’s what I was born to do.”

  Ok bro.

  “Do you need anything else from me?” Walking down the steps as if I’ve been called upon to join the force just then.

  He holds up a hand to stop me, gently breaking it to me that I’m not on the team, “I’ll let you know.”

  “Do you think she’d need a visitor or something?”

  “I think it’s just going to be a bunch of tests, she mostly is ok, but I’ll make sure she gets home with a female officer when they release her. Maybe then would be a more appropriate time for visits.”

  “Ok.” I leave it at that, I want it to be concern and not menace that he sees. I’ve watched enough crime shows to know what they look for to latch onto you and paint you as ‘the guy’.

  For a moment I watch as he walks back to Hannah’s house. I still have yet to see her. Curiosity calls to me for a brief moment. I am a bit intrigued to see if I hurt her, but not enough to seem like a looky-loo to the police, who I’m very certain still have their eyes on me, so, instead I retreat into my quiet house and squash my wonderment.

  Lying with my hands tucked under my head, replaying a bit of the good parts from tonight. Focusing mostly on the scent of her. Her hair smelling of fresh strawberries and her skin subtly fragranced by something plucked from a summer- bloomed flower. I finally relax enough to go to sleep; it seems the first night in months that it happens so naturally.

  Finally.

  Fucking zen.

  Six

  I don’t see Hannah for three entire days, and within that time I’m able to reorient my thoughts, putting her further down and out of my mind, after the first day of her not coming outside to tend to the yard, I didn’t look as frequently the second, and then by the third, she was nearly gone. That is… until she wasn’t.

  The split second my eyes caught her it all came flooding back. She shoved her way forward and trapped me again inside that obsession, my thoughts smothered with her. The invasive way she holds me captive inside my own mind is the most wicked thing that’s ever been done to me. How can someone wield that much power over another? It should not be a possibility, yet, here I am, subservient to her every move.

  Steven’s car has not left since it all happened, he had returned home early that night and not left Hannah’s side since. Even having groceries delivered, which although super convenient, seems a little over the top.

  What is it about her?

  Let the man breathe.

  He seems to be the doting husband, tending to her every whim. I caught up with him outside as we both checked the mailboxes at the curb.

  “How is she doing? I can’t even imagine what it must be like for you two. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” All the words tumble out. I try to sound remorseful for not ensuring her safety in his rhetorical ask to keep an eye out. All while trying to get an update on how things are, and possibly, if they’ll return to some sort of normalcy soon.

  “Hannah’s hanging in there. Recovery from something so brutal isn’t all physical, she’s got a lot of healing to do, mentally too. She’s really shaken up. She won’t let anyone see her right now. She doesn’t want the home invasion, or the reason for it, to linger in people’s memory, let alone have the visual of it to facilitate that. Poor thing.” He shakes his head sympathetically.

  “I bet, I’m so sorry, Steven.”

  “I’ve taken a leave of absence from work; I have about a month of paid time to take advantage of, so we should be ok. She doesn’t want to be left alone right n
ow. It’s so hard for her.” If I’m not mistaken, I see the swell of tears collect before he’s able to blink them back.

  “If you, or Hannah, need anything please let me know, whatever it is. I’m right next door.” I clear my throat, letting on that it has also choked me up.

  I stand there watching as he shuffles off, moving for my own door only after I see his close behind him. I can’t help but think of what she doesn’t want people to see. I don’t remember hurting anything physically—maybe her insides, but it seems, there may have been something else.

  I feel a twinge of guilt, but then I remember it was she who drove me to it. If she wasn’t so tantalizing, so fucking obnoxiously present in my mind, this whole thing could have been avoided.

  I rush inside for a much-needed shower, not the kind that gets you clean, the kind that clears your head. Irritation builds quickly at the thought of Steven there babysitting for an entire fucking month. If things don’t return to normal soon, I fear the agony of it all will compound and fill me so full of need I’ll overflow again, this time things could get worse.

  Could they get worse?

  Oh fuck, what if it got worse?

  I punch the wet tile in the stall then rush out of the shower without grabbing a towel. Marching to the window, forcing my desk out of the way to get the closest view available, I press my dripping forehead to the glass and will her to step out into the yard.

  This morning was the first I’d seen Hannah since our night together. Her head hanging down, a nest of messy hair draped across her shoulders and covering her face. Wearing a terrycloth bathrobe—something she’s never done before. Nothing remarkable about it, but it was all it took to get me fixated again. Surely, it couldn’t be anything other than black magic. Her spell is working better than ever and it’s becoming harder for me to remain a gentleman.

  Some sloppy, torn down version of the sexy neighbor girl had been enough to fuck me up again. And now, I’m practically shaking from withdrawal.