Wednesday, August 8, 2007


by doig

Tania was just beginning to feel confident again. A bitter divorce after eight years of marriage, which ended after an admitted infidelity by the one she had loved, left her with neither poise nor purpose. Two years of drifting since that time had all but eroded what remained of her self-esteem. All this was changing now with the new vigor she found in practicing yoga.

Introduced to this by a colleague at work, and reluctant at first to even show up for the first class, she now found this art gave her a passion and sense of worth that until now felt out of her reach. And she was pleased, if secretly, with the physical changes her regimen was making on her. Always on the heavier side, being from stout Russian peasant heritage, her exercises were actually reshaping her into something she thought she would never become - an attractive and comely woman.

It was with these thoughts that filled her mind last evening when, stretching alone in the workout room of her condo, the first sense of being watched came to her. The workout room was spacious with a large central area covered in mats used for gymnastics by the other tenants. Wall-to-wall mirrors gave the room a larger-than-life feeling, which only helped to heighten her feeling of awareness and vulnerability, as she was the only person there.

New to the building, she couldn't have possibly known a rapist had been stalking the neighborhood, being last seen in the area only days before. It was as she shrugged off these thoughts that he burst into the room...

He made straight for her; one of his hands covered her mouth as the other groped below. The suddenness with which all healthy people react to hatred and violence, confidence turning immediately to fear, overcame her and she futilely writhed in his grasp. Breath becoming shallower, the layers of all she was and had become began to peel and fade away, as panic and helplessness began to take its toll.

Something snapped. A will to live, the desire to fight and survive, broke through the thin veneer of weakness she'd carried with her all her life. This man wasn't much bigger than her, after all, being only an inch or so taller and not much heavier. Damned if she was going down without a fight! Reaching her hand behind his head, she grabbed a handful of hair between her fingers and yanked back as hard as she could. His head now back; she punched out at his offered throat with all the power left to her.

"Gaaaa! Bitch!" was spat out by him as he lunged back, coughing. Looking at him now she knew, absolutely knew, that she would come through this okay. It was if all the angst of a lifetime melted away in an instant and the power of a woman in combat now coursed through her. She took a firm step forward.

He took a solid swing at her head, which she easily ducked. Rising, she delivered a side-kick to his stomach, which doubled him over with a groan. Her one-piece leotard strained taut as she lifted her knee to meet his face. He flew back into the mirror with a crack and slid to the floor.

"What the fuck?" he thought, as he tried to shake the pain from his head. Blood slowly welled up around his nose where her knee had struck. He always liked it when they resisted, but he was being hurt here. The first jolt of fear started to rise within him.

He looked up through streaming wet eyes and saw her standing before him. She was pulling her hair back from her eyes, long and blond and straight, and twisting it into a kind of knot. Her breasts rose as she did this, round and full, mocking him somehow. Looking straight at him she smiled, a wet-lipped fierce type of smile that made him shiver. He charged at her.

Stepping inside his guard and raising her elbow, she extended her forearm and executed a perfect knife-hand chop to his throat. Off balance and gurgling, she saw the opportunity she had been waiting for. Taking a small step back, she thrust forward with her right leg, held straight, up and into his groin. Almost as if time were frozen, her leg hung there between his, a perfect marriage of bone with tender flesh. She withdrew her leg and waited for the inevitable.

His dramatics didn't disappoint. A squeal came from his lips as he now realized the blow she had struck. Eyes bulging but still glued to the woman in front of him, he bent forward instantly. His hands immediately went between his legs, so far back that his fingers could be seen from behind. His knees were now locked together, even though his feet were spaced several feet apart. To her, he seemed so much smaller now, but then again, a man isn't very tall when he's doubled over holding his balls.

He toppled over on his side, writhing and rolling, trying to soothe the pain that engulfed his manhood. Small panting screams came from his mouth as she watched him, in all his humiliation, beaten by a woman. Beaten by her. She stood over him, tauntingly, the thrill of victory still shining in her eyes.

When the police arrived a short while later, he was still immobilized, although conscious. The policewoman now taking her statement marveled at his helplessness as she looked over her shoulder at the writhing figure.

"I wish I'd done that to him, the bastard," she said. Tania only smiled.

No comments: