Putting Sasha in Her Place

(Authors note; This is a work of fiction, entirely for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.)

“I’m finished for the day, get someone else,” barked Sasha Daley as she walked past the till at the end of her shift.

A sneer crossed Sasha’s face as she walked out of the store. Behind her she could hear the cashier ringing the bell for some other supervisor. There seemed to be a note of desperation in that sound.

‘Stupid black bitch!’ thought Sasha, ‘I don’t know why they employ their kind!’

Off thru the town Sasha strode, heading for home. She seriously doubted if the store could survive without her.

He saw Sasha as she exited the store. Regular as clockwork, just like all the other days he had been waiting for her. No staying late if Sasha could help it. She was so easy to pick out - a tall girl with that stupid ponytail waggling down her back, bobbing in time as she walked. Today was quite a cold day so she was wearing her red fleecy jacket and her dark blue work pants. Of course Sasha Daley’s most distinctive feature was her attitude - that snooty arrogant look that gave the impression that she was so much better than everybody else. God it would be great to see her humbled, humiliated, grubbing in the dirt like the piece of shit bitch she was...

As he tracked her thru the crowds of shoppers he was almost hypnotized by that ponytail – such a great feature for a pretty girl. So easy to grab it, twist it round your hand and use it to position a pouty mouth right where it should be – at the end of his cock. Sasha seemed to be in a hurry today. Her quick, confident stride made the outline of her knickers visible thru her pants. That particular piece of clothing would soon adorn his wall, framed with a plaque.

Sasha waited to cross the busy road. Balled fist on her hips as if she expected all the vehicles to brake for her benefit. He was so close behind he could hear her make a grunt of irritation. Then she crossed. Now it was obvious that the little bitch was heading straight home. Goody.

This stalking, her tight sexy ass in those blue pants and the thrilling anticipation of what he had planned for her was giving him a massive erection. As she headed towards the path by the car park he had to make a conscious effort to control his breathing.

She was almost at his decision point. Could he really do this?

Like most men the fantasy of abducting and raping a girl was a pleasant one that he regularly indulged in. Of course moral considerations held him back from actually committing such a crime. Thoughts about the effects on the victim and on her poor family stopped him from going out and attacking someone. What if he raped a woman who turned out to be a nurse from a loving family?

Oh dear.

Bad guilt trip for eternity.

Then he met Sasha Daley.

They had met when he had a crappy Xmas job at her store. At first he was pleased. Sasha was a good-looking girl. Tall, slim with lovely mousy-blonde hair. Perhaps if he played his cards right a date might follow...

That thought had died by the end of his first shift. Sasha was a cow. A mean, bitchy, arrogant cow. He worried that her coldness was the result of his rudeness - had he made leering at her too obvious? But it soon became apparent that Sasha was obnoxious to everyone. A bully to those beneath her, someone who blamed everybody else when those above her criticized. The most unpopular person in the place by a mile. He was glad to leave when Xmas Eve came round.

It was a few months later that thoughts of Sasha entered his head. His usual rape fantasies featured either the thirtysomething woman who sometimes caught the same bus he did or the blonde teenage waitress in the local cafe. The woman would be dragged into some bushes as she walked home, beaten to the ground and then nailed. The teenager would be followed home from work, hauled into an alleyway and humped. Both pleasing fantasies but just fantasy. He would be unable to actually assault either female. Once he had seen bus-woman reading some Salvation Army literature. Raping a Christian lady would inevitably produce bad karma. As for the teenager, well she sounded a bit thick and had a stud in her nose but that wasn’t reason enough to rip her jeans off and do her at knifepoint.

Then he thought of Sasha...

Sasha had the happy union of the two ingredients for a jolly rape. She was good-looking. No argument there. She was not a nice person. So no guilt trip afterwards. Knowing what a cow she was would actually make violating her even more pleasurable. Abducting and raping Sasha Daley therefore seemed a good, nay brilliant, idea.

The phone book revealed four Daleys in the region. A good start.

The officious biddy in the library refused to let him use the electoral roll to look up anyone but himself. Pooh! Time to go a-stalking.

From his time at the store he knew what shift Sasha worked and when she finished so at the appointed time he just loitered outside (wearing a cap to avoid been recognized).

It took five days with frequent alarms and frustrations as he thought she had spotted him or he lost her but eventually he found out where she lived - a smart semi-detached three-bedroom house about a mile from the store. This simple detective work excited him somewhat. He had found out something about Sasha’s private life and this thrilled him.

His first plan was to break into the house at night and rape Sasha in her own bed. He could sneak in to her bedroom, put a knife at her throat and while her parents were sleeping blissfully unaware in the next room hump their daughter senseless! Wa-Hey!

Practical considerations scuppered the plan. How many people lived in the house? He didn’t fancy discovering that Sasha had two strapping brothers. What if they caught him?

Shudder…

That didn’t bear thinking about.

An assault in the house was out. Miss Sasha would have to be got between home and work.

Sasha’s route from work to home started at the store. She went along the High Street, crossed the busy road at the end, walked past some more shops, a car park and then got into the estate where her house was. He surveyed the route for ambush points. There was an alleyway between shops on the High Street and a line of bushes at one end of the car park. Neither of them were much use. CCTV covered the High Street. The bushes were so thin that half the main road would be able to see. He could probably smack Sasha over the head, haul her pants and knickers down before anyone could stop him but even then it would last mere seconds. Funnily enough this realization didn’t disappoint him at all.

This was because a new fantasy was consuming him. To rape Sasha Daley was not enough. How could two minutes unpleasantness make up for the years of misery she’d undoubtedly inflicted on her fellow man?

What if he could capture her? Imprison her in his own secret place. Then time wouldn’t be a factor. He could strip, rape, beat, and torture her indefinitely. He could go on and on until Sasha Daley was utterly converted from a snooty little miss to his groveling sex slave. Was that not what a bitch like Sasha deserved?

Firstly location. Someone in his extended family always seemed to getting either married or dropping dead. A short wait until the inevitable and when his parents were away for a week at a wedding or funeral and he would have sole access to his house. A day-trip to a sex shop in the nearest big city produced several sets of handcuffs. Testing them out revealed them strong enough to restrain a struggling blonde. Testing also produced the delightful image of a naked Sasha sobbing for mercy as she squirmed on his bed, held in place by his shiny new cuffs.

With the location revealed it was time to arrange the procurement of the star of the show. Once his parents were gone he’d have access to the family car. A quick check showed that the boot could easily fit a captive female. It’d be a tight squeeze but comfort wasn’t an issue. Park car in car park. Put Sasha in car.

Put Sasha in car. How to accomplish that?

Sasha was tall for a girl with a fit, athletic body. Sasha’s body. Mmmmmm! Concentrate, dammit!

His instincts told him that her arrogant attitude would produce a feisty fighter if assaulted. With some girls their timidity was so obvious that you could see at a glance that if a man put a knife to their throat they’d be so paralyzed with fear you could drag them off easily. Bitch Sasha would doubtless turn violent and punch him. Been stronger and wielding a knife he could probably overpower her but it was still only a probably. A prolonged fight, even a victorious one, would increase the chances of bystander intervention.

Chloroforming was the obvious answer. His knowledge of chemistry was zero but the information delights of the Internet swiftly gave him a formula. A trip to the shops followed by an afternoon playing at research chemist and he possessed a bottle full of stinky liquid. A whiff was almost overpowering so a soaked rag shoved into Sasha’s face would be more than sufficient. Apparently if you chloroform someone and then gag them there is the possibility that they could regain consciousness, try to puke and in doing so choke to death. So after slamming the boot down on her he’d need to only drive a short distance before stopping and checking she was OK. Has a rapist ever taken such steps to ensure his victim’s safety?

His last task was those little extras that would make a date extra special - a cucumber, matches and some pliers. Passing a pet shop he on impulse bought a dog collar. For posterity he purchased a camera, instamatic of course. The family camcorder was also earmarked for use. He would rape Sasha, video it, force her to watch herself been raped and then rape her again. Delicious!

The photographs and video would ensure that he could relive the violation of Sasha Daley for years to come, long after the actual rape was finished, long after Sasha was finished...

And if he could make a few pennies on some Internet forum, well even better!

A few weeks later and one of his uncles did the decent thing and keeled over. Off his parents went to attend the funeral.

‘Of course you must stay for a few days after, don’t worry about me on my own!’

Just like he had practiced he swung into action. The chloroform and rag were put into his pockets, handcuffs put in the boot. More handcuffs were left fastened to his bed. With Sasha’s shift ending in one hour he hopped into the car and drove to the car park. Parked. Right in the best position – was some force helping him with his mission?

It was early winter so darkness was falling. The cold air meant that his hat and scarf wrapped over his mouth would not look out of place. He got out and headed over to the store to await Sasha...

So we return to that moment where Sasha is approaching decision point. He was about ten feet behind. The boot of his car was a mere eight feet away from her. Nervously he glanced about. He had convinced himself that if someone was around it wouldn’t matter because there would be other days. Not any more! With one trembling hand reaching in his pocket for the chloroform, the other going for the rag and his cock throbbing in his pants he suddenly didn’t care about witnesses. She was there, he was here and he was ready!

He brought the rag out, poured some liquid onto it. A deep breath. Then he pounced...