Just Deserts – excerpt 3

Kammara was grateful when the last lecture ended since she barely concentrated all through.

“Ready to head out?”

She turned with a mild irritation at Damian. “Not until you go home and get my manual.” He’d said he’d forgotten it when she’d asked.

“Sorry, can’t do that. I’ve got a pounding headache and all I want to do is get home, take some medication and lie down.”

He complained frequently of headaches that Kammara didn’t know if she believed him now. She didn’t care though, that was for sure.

“I need that manual back, Damian. Exams are just a few weeks away.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I would say that I would bring it next weekend, but I’m going on leave and travelling to Lagos to spend time with friends.”

Like she cared what his stupid plans were, Kammara thought with annoyance. “I have no intention of waiting until next weekend. Go home and get it for me. It’s not like it’s far from here.”

“Kammy—sorry, Kammara, I am in no state to walk home and walk back here. The way my head is pounding, it feels like it’s going to fall off my neck. Look, the only solution if you insist on getting it back today is for you to go home with me, pick up the manual and head home from there. You do take cabs home, don’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Easy then, you pick up the manual and take a cab from my place.”

“Damian, I have no wish to go to your place. You’ll—”

“Then it’s going to be next two weekends before you get your book,” he interrupted her again. “I’m sorry, but I need to get home and lie down.”

“Darn it!” Kammara cursed, not at all mollified by his apologetic expression. “Fine. Let’s go. But just so you know, never ask me anything again because you’re not getting it.”

“Don’t say that, Kammara. I swear, I don’t mean to be putting you to so much trouble.”

Kammara ignored him and all his chatters as they walked the less than two hundred metres to where he lived.

“It looks like it’s going to rain in a minute,” he said at the entrance to the two-bungalow yard. “Why don’t you come inside while I get you the book?”

“I’ve got an umbrella, if it starts raining. Just hurry up.”

“I should only be a minute then. I live in the mini flat right behind this first bungalow.”

Like she wanted that information, Kammara thought, turning as he walked away.

Idly, she stared around the rather quiet neighbourhood. Most of the houses were bungalows and only a few had security gates. Kammara knew she couldn’t live in any of those houses as she preferred a house with a secure fence and a gate. Those two points had been top on her list when she’d been house hunting two year ago.

Shifting away from the thought, she cast a glance at her wristwatch, wiped off the surface because it was drizzling now. It should be three minutes now, what was keeping him?

She considered calling him, then remembered she didn’t have his number. He’d asked for hers, but because he irritated her, she’d said a big fat no. In a polite manner, of course.

She started to open her backpack to take out her umbrella, decided against the idea and marched into the yard.

In front of the bungalow he’d pointed out his mini flat was behind, she called out his name.

But there was no response.

“What the heck was he doing inside?” Kammara muttered, annoyed and wondering if she should leave.

Then she reminded herself that she needed her manual and strode forward, cursing him as she went.

Seeing the gate which opened into a narrow veranda and a half-ajar door, she called again, “Damian?”

She walked through the gate, stood by the door. “Damian, can’t you find the book?”

With still no response, she edged closer to the door, peered in. The small living room was empty. “Damian?”

“Hey, you’re here. Sorry, I kept you waiting. As it started to rain, I had to get in my bed sheet.”

Kammara caught back a scream as she spun around. He was coming in through the gate. “It’s been more than five minutes, and didn’t you hear my calls?”

“You called my phone?”

Idiot! “No. But I called your name several times.”

“That’s weird. I didn’t hear you at all.”

As he had her boxed in between the door, Kammara tanked the pointless argument. “Fine, just get me my book.”

“I couldn’t find it, that’s what took so long. I thought I left it on the bookshelf in my bedroom, but it wasn’t there, and not anywhere else I could see. Wait, I was thinking of looking through the DVD rack in my living room. Might be I dropped it there.”

He stepped forward and she backed a step, and was inside the living room.

“Give me a minute to dump this in the bedroom and I’ll be right out to search through the rack.” He closed the door and she heard the jam lock click.

“What are you doing?”

“What?”

“You locked the door.”

“Oh that, habit.”

A prickle of fear shivered down her back at the intense look that had come into his eyes. “Well, open it. I will wait outside, while you get the book.”

“I’m not opening the door and you can’t either since I’ve got the key.” He dangled the twin keys before slipping them into his pocket.

Then he tossed the sheet in his hand aside. “Let me provide you a bit of information before you start thinking what to do. The front bungalow is empty, tenants moved out a month ago, and the family on the other bungalow are all out. So, it’s only you and me here—alone.”

“No!” Even as his intention dawned, and full blown fear took over, Kammara lunged forward.

But he clasped his hand over her mouth, picked her off the floor and started forward.

She beat at his back with her fists, kicked him with her legs, and then hefted up to flee when he dumped her on a bed.

But he was quicker, grabbing her hands, he pulled them together and yanked them over her head. Then he clamped a cold steel, Kammara realised was handcuff around her wrists and locked it on a kind of a pole.

She screamed and shoved her legs into him stomach.

He staggered back, re-balanced and closed off her mouth again. “You’re a tiger, aren’t you?” he said, grinned.

Kammara reared up, pushed against his clamp hold.

“You want your mouth free? But you will scream if I let go.”

She shook her head from side to side, the tears burning in her throat, slipped out.

“Hey, don’t cry. I’m not hurting you, am I?” He moved his hand down, releasing her upper lip. “See? You can tell me what you want.”

“Don’t do this, Damian. Please, don’t do it.” The words were a rasp whisper as terror vibrated through her. “I’m begging you not to do this to me.”

“Oh but I will. And you want me to. It’s always what you wanted. Acting tough, playing hard to get—all part of the game you women like to play to tempt a man, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not. Stop. Get off me!” Frantic, she wrenched her leg from under him, shoved it into his groin.

The hit wasn’t hard enough because he had her half pinned down.

“Ouch! You wild bitch.” He laughed manically, bent and clamped his mouth over hers.

Kammara bit him the tongue he plunged into her mouth.

“Damn, you’re feisty. A real fire cracker. I like women with fire in them.” Gagging her again, he dug into his pocket with his other hand and rammed the white handkerchief into her mouth. “I think we should do it this way. While I don’t mind a woman being loud, we don’t want to disturb the neighbours, do we?”

Kammara struggled, tugged her hands, but the steel cuffs strained against her wrists and dug into her flesh.

“You’re one of those who like it rough, huh? I like it rough too, so we will go rough and hard.”

He heaved up and with surprising quick movements, shoved down his trousers and kicked them off. “You are going to enjoy it. I promise you.”

He grabbed her flaying legs, locked them apart with his spread knees and then thrusting up her dress, plunged his fingers into her.

No!

The violent invasion tore a scream out of her and into the cotton cloth blocking off her mouth. Kammara twisted and turned, desperate to expel the intrusive fingers.

“You want the real thing, not my fingers?” He pulled out his fingers, sniffed them and grinned. “Nice. Hold on let me grab a condom. I’m not saying you’re not clean or anything, but I prefer to be safe than sorry.”

He leaned over the bed, retrieved his trouser and got out a condom. “I carry one always with me as you can never tell when you might want to scratch an itch.” Shoving down his boxers, he grabbed his erection and slid on the protection. “Now, we are ready. You are ready for me, aren’t you, Kammy?”

Kammara met his eyes wild with manic excitement and begged with her own. Please. Don’t do it. Please.

“Yes, you are. You want me just as much as I want you.” He took hold of his manhood and slid his hand under her.

The violation ripped her body apart. It sliced through her like a knife with each thrust, and she was cut into multiple pieces by the time he was done.

He was panting as he pulled out of her. “You take a lot out of man, Kammy,” he wheezed. “I’ll get you some tissue as I clean up.”

His feet slouched on the floor as he went in and out of the room. “I’ll get the key to set you lose,” he said. A minute later, he unlocked the handcuff and tucked out the cloth in her mouth. “It was good as I promised, wasn’t it?”

Barely seeing him through the tears that blurred her eyes, Kammara pushed past him to her feet. They were trembling—her entire body was trembling, and the semen that lapped between her thighs made her sick.

She walked out, picked her backpack from the living room floor and headed for the door. Then she recalled he had the key in his pocket, and stopped.

“Looks like you’re in a hurry,” he commented.

“Open the door. I need to go.”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy that.”

The mocking tone sprung hate into her. Kammara turned and looked at him then. “Let me out of here, Damian!”

“Hey, stay calm or I might think you want more.”

Her body iced over at the threat. “Just open the door and let me go.”

“No need to hurry off. You can hang around, we will talk, get to know each other more.” He suddenly chuckled. “Hey, don’t make this look like it wasn’t what you wanted. What did you think was going to happen when you come into a bachelor’s pad? You must have known we will end up having sex.”

“We didn’t have sex. You raped me.” Hate convulsed through her, burning through the icy fear.

“Rape?” He laughed out loud. “How was it rape? I didn’t force you to come in here or pull a weapon at you. No, sweet, delicious Kammy, it wasn’t rape. It was good old sex, and you enjoyed it, if you want to be truthful.”

“Open the damn door!”

“I warned you not to raise your voice or I might be tempted to take you again. You like the word take, don’t you? Something erotic about it.” He advanced towards her. “Is that what you want, Kammy, for me to take you again?”

The gleam in his eyes terrified her. Kammara braced her body—for anything. “Just open the door.”

He touched her face, chuckled when she slapped off his hand. “Say please. I like it when women say please.”

She didn’t want to say it. She couldn’t bear to say it. But she wanted…needed to get out of there. “Please, open the door.”

“And that’s all it takes.” He sidestepped her, slipped the key into the lock and unlocked it. “Just to prove to you that this was in no way rape, you came in here of your own free will and you’re leaving same way.” He opened the door. “If you want, we can do this another time. But only if you want.”

Kammara shoved past him, ran until she was outside. Then she flung out her hand and luckily the oncoming vehicle was a cab and it pulled up at the curb. She dove inside without bargaining, rattled out her address and ignored the price the driver called out.

Huddled into a corner, she clenched her chattering teeth and struggled not to give in to the tears in her throat. To the temptation to collapse and sink beneath the earth.

She was trembling uncontrollably as she staggered into her apartment. She felt sick. Nauseous. Her head spun—but she managed to hold herself together without dropping. For a full minute, she stood at the centre of her room and just stared into the semi-dark atmosphere.

Then she started peeling off her clothes.

Naked, she felt afresh the violation and desperate to wash it off, she ran into the bathroom and under the shower.

The tears started then. They poured out, hot and unstoppable.

She cried as she washed herself, over and over again. She cried because hard as she soaped and sponged her body, she couldn’t wash away the feeling of being violated. She still felt his repugnant touch when her hand came in contact with her. She was filthy, never again to be clean.

Could she have prevented it?

The torture of that sudden question crumpled her knees.

And huddled in her bathroom, Kammara cried like she’d never before done in her life.

***

Her body has been violated. Her mind is broken by the trauma. Will she ever be the woman she was once?… JUST DESERTS… Coming soon.