Is this a nightmare?

Mr. Evans is actually a fairly attractive man; he has light brown hair, which is now almost half gray, and a full beard. Unexpectedly, he also has a few tattoos. However, they are mostly hidden under his sleeves.

His physique is best described as follows: He's well-built, but he also enjoys eating. He's the kind of guy you wouldn't want to meet randomly at night. His height can be intimidating, especially with the constantly annoyed or worried look he has.

But once you get to know him, he can be quite nice. It's not easy in this field, especially as a young woman fresh out of university. I'm really lucky that Mr. Evans gave me the opportunity to work with him. At work, we're just a small team of six people. Mr. Evans has taught me a lot, and we research important sociological topics. I enjoy my work, or at least I have enjoyed it so far…

I liked him. He often made me feel special. He took a lot of time for me, even listening to my personal problems. Even though he's my supervisor. We have a good and relatively close atmosphere in our work team. But still professional. 

He's always so friendly and respectful. Except for the days when he's in a bad mood, he always takes it all out on me. Then suddenly I'm useless and only make mistakes.

I looked up to him, admired him to some extent, both as a person and as a mentor…

No

Stop.

This man did something terrible to me. I must not think about it…

But I simply cannot believe that this good person is capable of such a thing. 

Maybe I misunderstood and he's not my boss at all? Well, I was high, so you can get carried away with your imagination, and I couldn't see anything clearly, it was so dark.

That night, when that intruder just left me lying there like that, something inside me broke. I don't know exactly how long I lay there frozen, I was in shock and incredibly exhausted.

As soon as I was able, I grabbed my blanket and dragged myself into the living room to sleep on the couch. My alarm clock rang. Much too early. I had barely slept and felt miserable.

I sat up and froze as I looked at myself. My body was completely filthy, with the marks of last night.

I was sticky, smeared with all sorts of bodily fluids. My ass was covered in bruises and my body felt like I'd been hit by a train.

This sight brought tears to my eyes, The memories flashed back in vivid detail, and I felt everything again. A feeling of panic and worthlessness overwhelmed me.

I just felt dirty. I needed to clean myself up. Then everything will surely be alright again...

I stood crying in the shower for far too long, desperately trying to wash away the last night, hoping it would somehow undo it. I washed my body multiple times, removing all the smeared blood, sperm, squirt, and his body smell. I scrubbed so hard it hurt.

Although I was physically clean afterwards, I still felt just as dirty.

I heard my phone ring and grabbed my bathrobe. It was my colleague.

Damn! I forgot about work, I'm way too late.

I can't do that. It's simply impossible. I can't look at him. The thought alone triggered panic. 

I answered the phone and, with a trembling voice, called in sick for the rest of the week. My colleague sounded concerned, but she said nothing.

I spent the rest of the day agonizing over whether to go to the police. I would do it if I were certain it wasn't Mr. Evans. I can't risk losing my dream job, that would ruin my career. I need to be sure first.

I spent the next few days either feeling miserable and wallowing in my suffering or being distracted so that I didn't have to feel it anymore.

Monday was approaching, and my stomach dropped at the thought of going to work. I tried to convince myself that it could never have been Mr. Evans. With all my courage, I managed to drag myself to work.

My small office, which I shared with two of my colleagues, greeted me with its usual charming chaos. I tried my best to hide that I was 

tense and shaky inside. 

I got straight to work, analyzing a lot of data today. I kept quiet, hid in my office, and only spoke to colleagues when necessary. We had a team meeting planned in the afternoon, with Mr.

Evans, of course…

I waited in the meeting room, and every time the door opened, panic welled up inside me. I tried to calm myself down. I don't even know if it was him. How should I behave?

Mr. Evans came in, greeted everyone in the room, and sat down with his coffee. He looked directly at me and smiled innocently. I sat stiffly, with a racing heart, during the meeting. Everything seemed perfectly normal. He was as friendly as always.

After that, my workday was over, and I was just happy to go home and hide away. But I still didn't have any answers. I can't just ask him out of nowhere.

The next morning, everything at work was still as usual. Of course, I wasn't feeling as well as I normally would. I hadn't had much of an appetite the last few days, so I stayed in the break room during my lunch break while my Colleagues went to the cafeteria.

I heard the door close, the unexpected noise startled me. But there stood Mr. Evans. My knees went weak. We are alone now.

He sat down next to me. Much too close.

"Hey Clara, why are you sitting here all alone?"

His voice sounded calm, almost caring. As if everything was perfectly normal.

"I wasn't hungry," I mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

For a moment he said nothing. Then I felt him place his hand on my thigh. I froze for a moment.

"You do remember our little secret, don't you?"

"I... I don't know..."

"Hey, don't be afraid. If you do what I tell you, you won't lose your job," he said in a soft voice.

Everything inside me tensed up. It was him… Mr. Evans raped me.

That can't be right, the man that night was not the Mr. Evans I knew before. Before I could even stammer out a reply, he interrupted me.

"I just want you to feel comfortable here, we work well together. I don't want to do you any harm. You'll have to accept it, so just enjoy it."

His words sounded reasonable. Almost friendly, with that perverse smile.

He was now stroking my thigh and slowly sliding his hand further up towards my crotch.

"Mhm…", I replied almost inaudibly.

I was simply ashamed that I was letting this happen to me and not fighting back. But he's right. He has me in his power.

He came closer to my face. As if he were smelling me, like a predator looking at its prey. Mr. Evans gently placed his hand on my cheek. He turned my head towards him, at first, I resisted somewhat.

Then he kissed me tenderly. His lips were warm and soft. If he hadn't assaulted me, I might have been able to enjoy it.

I endured it, but I just felt nauseous.

He started rubbing my clit through my pants. I flinched, but I felt myself getting wetter and wetter from the stimulation. The sensations distracted me briefly. I relaxed and started breathing heavier.

I felt him rubbing his hard cock against my knee. My body craved more. For a moment I forgot what he had done to me.

"As much as I'd like to continue, we have to get back to work, Sweetie. What do you think about me coming over tonight?”

My thoughts were in chaos. I hesitated.

But his gaze forced me to nod.

"Good decision, Clara. See you later," he said and left the room. 

His cold, demeaning joy only made the memory of what had happened all the more unbearable. 

Arriving home, I collapsed onto the couch, exhausted. 

I should have said no. But I couldn't.

Nevertheless, my thoughts constantly revolved around him. His smile. His voice. Mr. Evans's terrible caring and kindness. That was always something that made me weak.

Somebody who cares about me, who likes me.

I hated him for that. And I hated myself even more for the fact that a part of me still wanted his attention.

I nervously kept glancing at the clock. I'm somehow preparing myself and my apartment for what's to come.

The doorbell rang. Trembling inside with excitement, I opened the door. I had no idea what to expect this evening.

He came in with a bottle of my favorite wine, hugged me for an uncomfortably long time, and we sat down.

Mr. Evans was charming and calm. For a brief moment, he was the man I knew again. We talked for a long time, mainly about work and small talk.

I was tense, but the alcohol made it more bearable. I was just waiting for him to drop the mask of the nice boss again. He kept approaching me, like a deer he didn't want to scare away. With small, cautious touches from my shoulder, to my hand and thighs.

But I ignored his flirting, hoping he would stop. He was so disgustingly friendly today, as if he'd forgotten that I'd already seen the monster inside him.

You could clearly see how his dick was pressing against his jeans, how horny he was. He took my hand and guided it to his penis.

Mr. Evans' cock was practically begging to be touched. He looked me in the eyes, opened his zipper, and took it out.

That was the first time I saw it, his dick was really as big as it felt. My expression was confused. I didn't know what to do.

"You may put it in your mouth, little one," he said demandingly.

Hesitantly, I approached him. That smell… It brought those images back to me.

Impatiently, he grabbed my hair and pushed me down. The length of his shaft buried itself completely in my throat. Tears came to my eyes, and I gagged. Reluctantly, I began to suck his cock. His breathing became heavier.

He moved my head up and down, my fear growing with every thrust. I could barely breathe. The head of his cock filled my entire mouth.

"Use your tongue..." he commanded me with a groan.

I gasped with relief when I was briefly free again. My tongue circled the tip and I tasted his bitter precum. I sucked hard, trying to finish quickly.

Meanwhile, he started touching me between my legs. I was wet… and ashamed. 

My soft whines at his touch made his cock twitch. He was close and pressed my head down against him again. I sucked faster now, my face was covered in my saliva. By now he was just holding me down and fucking my face like a toy. He ignored my choking and I felt like he was bruising my throat.

With firm final thrusts, he groaned and came into my mouth, spurting all his juice into me.

"Swallow it," he moaned.

The taste and consistency alone made me gag, making it difficult to swallow at all. We sat there for a moment in an uncomfortable silence.

"Are you okay, Clara?" he asked with a caring tone.

I was confused by the question. Just a few minutes ago, he didn't care whether I could breathe, as long as he got his satisfaction. What's with this constant switching of attitudes?

"Yes, everything is fine, Mr. Evans. I'm just a little tired," I said, knowing full well that I wasn't okay.

And he knew it too, it was clearly visible on my face.

He grabbed my crotch and made my damp panties snap lightly.

"Then that will have to wait. Don't worry, I'll take care of you next time. I'd better let you sleep." He said goodbye with a kiss on the forehead.

Does he really think I would want that?!

My jaw ached, my throat felt sore, and I was mentally distraught. Despite this, my thoughts weren't focused on what had happened, but on his last words.

The thought that a part of me was clinging to it made me feel sick.

The next week passed quickly. At work, Mr. Evans behaved as usual. But when we were alone or no one was looking it wasn't long before his hand found my butt.

At first, I flinched at his harassment. Later, I almost expected it.

He only sent me short messages occasionally. Things like: "Good girl, you seem more relaxed today..."

And every time, I hated myself for how much this attention affected me. My only survival strategy was to simply suppress everything.

I stopped looking at myself in the mirror; I was ashamed of what he had made me. Weak. Pathetic that I let this happen to me without a word.

Before the weekend Mr. Evans said that he will come back to see me the following Wednesday. There wasn't even a question. He planned that we make ourselves a nice evening, order food, and watch a movie.

His behavior confused me. I don't even know what he wants from me. Why that terrible act first, and then this forced romance? Which side of him says the truth? 

Waiting all that time until the meeting drove me crazy. I was tense, but less panicked than the first time. That's exactly what scares me.

He had another bad day on Tuesday, probably due to stress with his wife again, which I understand. I noticed he was making more of an effort than usual not to take everything out on me.

When I got home that day, I just collapsed on my couch and cried. I didn't understand why his behavior hurt me so much today. I'm usually used to his moods.

I received a text message: "I'm sorry about today, Clara. You deserve better. How about I come by today? I think we both could need company."

I felt bad all day because of his behavior, but this message calmed me down a little. Part of me wanted to reply immediately. The other part wanted to throw my phone against the wall.

When the doorbell rang, that same nervous feeling immediately tightened in my chest again.

Mr. Evans entered. His gaze softened when he saw how tense I was.

"Hey little one," he said softly.

Before I could even greet him, he placed his hand on my cheek and kissed me. Slowly. Almost lovingly. And that's what made it worse.

For a brief moment, I let myself surrender to that feeling. His closeness. His warmth. The safety that surrounded him, which had always reassured me.

But the mood quickly changed.

You could tell he was irritated. His movements became harsher, more impatient. As if he were trying to release his tension somewhere.

We were still standing in the entrance area when, he pushed me roughly against the wall with my chest.

He kissed my neck, and faster than I could realize it, he had already pulled out his cock. Hastily he pulled down my pants and penetrated me with a hard stroke. I groaned in pain, I wasn't prepared for that. I made an effort to relax to make it a little more bearable.

I remained still. As always. Apparently, that's his way of apologizing. My body reacted to his actions and began to perceive the pleasurable sensations his cock gave me.

But my mind couldn't handle it. 

His hands gripped my hips tightly, and he pulled me forcefully against his cock. The clapping sounds against my ass, the harsh thrusts against the wall, just made me feel used. Nothing loving was left. He was only using my body to get rid of something inside him.

But at some point, I couldn't take it anymore.

Tears suddenly ran down my face, silently and in embarrassing stillness. I didn't even want to cry. It just happened.

When Mr. Evans realized it, he paused.

“Hey… hey.” His voice became calm again and he slowed down.

When he pulled his penis out of me, I burst into sobs.

He brushed my hair out of my face, wiped away my tears, and pulled me closer to his chest as if he wasn't the one who just hurt me.

"Look at me. I want you to feel good too. What do you need, Sweetie?" he whispered lovingly, but subconsciously I heard the annoyance in his voice.

And although I should have been angry with him, a part of me immediately clung to that care. That was the worst part.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Evans, I didn't mean to do that," I said in a trembling voice.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Clara. You're just so sensitive."

He took my hand and we went into the bedroom. He held me for a while, kissed my forehead, cared for me, and gave me time to breathe.

"That's better, everything is okay," he murmured once I had calmed down again.

I kissed him. Why did I kiss him?!

He returned my kiss, of course, and slowly undressed me. He gently caressed my body, fondling my breasts and pink nipples. I could still feel my eyes burning and the lump in my throat, but his touch gave me comfort and made me feel loved.

His hands slipped under my lacy panties. Goosebumps spread as he rubbed my clit. The circular motions made me moan softly.

As the movements quickened, my breathing became heavier. For a few minutes, I forgot everything. The fear. The anger. Even myself.

Because now he made me feel that I was important to him.

He paused briefly to take off his underwear.

"Mmm, don't stop," I groaned without thinking. 

Mr. Evans kissed my neck, I felt myself getting closer to orgasm, and he took his fingers and inserted them into my soaking wet pussy. It felt so good, with tender movements, he found exactly the right spots inside me. My moans grew louder and my muscles tensed. I forgot to breathe.

By now he was hammering his curled fingers in and out of my pussy. That brought me to the edge, my eyes started to roll back. Everything inside me contracted around his fingers and I started squirting, letting out a silent scream. With every thrust, more of my hot juices splashed out onto us both. He carried me through the climax until I calmed down again. I was flooded with pleasure and ecstasy. 

I had barely caught my breath when he undressed and lined up his dick against my messy slit. 

He stretched me with his thick cock, pushing into me as deep as possible, it felt really good for the first time. He fucked me at a pleasantly slow pace. He kissed me between our moans.

“Ahhhh it feels so good. And see, it's much better and easier for you when you relax. You're doing well, you're my good girl."

I felt bad for having rejected him so harshly earlier. I gave him particularly pleasurable moans to make it up to him, and I surrendered to him.

Until he couldn't hold back any longer and fucked me harder and faster. For the most part, I was able to enjoy it, but every now and then the images of panic would resurface. It's hard to forget that. But I swallowed it down, I have to satisfy him. 

He fucked me in different positions, taking advantage of the fact that I went along with it this time. His orgasm was approaching. By now, all the tenderness was gone, he was holding me so tightly it hurt. He pounded hard inside me, ejaculating his cum deep inside me, releasing his frustration even deeper in me. 

“Mhhhh… Fuck!” he groaned as he came.

I felt his cock twitch inside me as he left it inside me for a while longer, until he caught his breath.

Then he stood up, got dressed, and only said: "Thank you, Clara, I feel better now."

He briefly placed his hand on my shoulder and pretended to be interested in me. But with that, he left my apartment and his warmth with him.

He just left me lying there again. My body was still throbbing with the intensity, but inside I felt numb.

The apartment was suddenly so quiet and empty. Just like me.

I was furious that he just left. That he left me alone again after he had torn me apart.

I wanted him to stay, and that was the worst part. I felt pathetic for wanting that. For falling for his games again without a doubt and even enjoying them.

He calmed me. He destroyed me. And both hurt so much.

But I need him, his care, his validation. I need him because without him I am worthless.

I think I've lost my self-respect…

I think I've lost Clara.