Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the last week, each story has an element of non-consent or reluctance. Without further ado, enjoy U is for Unlocked.

When I leave the house, I lock the door. Doesn’t everyone?

That’s what I said up until a week ago. From now on, I will leave the door unlocked when I leave the house.

@}–}—–

I live in a modest, two-story, Colonial home in a suburb of Boston. The crime rate is low. I have never had anything stolen from my house or my back porch. As far as I know, no one else has had anything stolen either. So I don’t worry a whole lot, but I do lock the door when I leave the house.

On Sunday night, I realized that I didn’t have any fruit for my lunch for work the next day. Even though it was 10 pm, I decided that I needed to go to the grocery store. I slid on my flip flops and went to the back door. I always used the back door because it was closer to my parking pad. And on my way out of the house, I always locked the doorknob by hand before closing the door. Then once it was closed, I used my key to lock the deadbolt. Typical, right?

I will never do that again.

When I closed the door, I went to put my key in the deadbolt, but before I could, I was jerked off my feet. I don’t remember what happened right after that. My next clear memory was waking up in the back of a van. It was one of those vans with no windows. I assume it was white, but to be honest, I have no idea. I have no idea how long I was out or how far we drove. What I do know is that it felt like we drove for a whole day.

It had been dark when I left my house, and now there was light streaming in the crack at the bottom of the double doors in the back.

I debated what to do. I felt like I should be ready for someone to open the door. If I kicked against it, would I knock the person back? But then again, would the person have a gun? They would undoubtedly be stronger than me. At 5 foot even and 125 pounds, I wasn’t likely to overpower anyone.

The van rocked to a stop, and I strained my ears to hear some clue of what was going on, but my heart was pounding so hard in my ears that I couldn’t discern anything. The door opened before I had decided what I was going to do. A guy in a ski mask greeted me, a gun in his hand. Boy was I glad that I hadn’t tried to kick him. It probably wouldn’t have ended well for me.

“Get out,” he said to me, and I scuttled to the edge of the van and dropped to the ground. I wanted to sprint, but I knew I wasn’t that fast. “Walk,” he said, gesturing toward the front door of a house with his gun.

I walked.

When I got to the door, he reached around me with keys in his hand to unlock the door. Then he turned the key and pushed it open. I could feel his body against mine, warm and hard. He was muscled, and it felt like his cock was hard against my lower back. I felt my breath catch at the realization. As fucking terrified as I felt, I did notice a twinge of arousal behind the terror.

He pushed me forward with his body, and I stepped into the house, knowing that this was bad. Inside the house, there was no way for me to get help. The house was a single-family home. There weren’t any neighbors that close by who would hear me scream from inside.

The house was nice. Typical. Clean. He was still pressed up against me, and he reached his left hand around my body turning me to face him, the gun in his hand. “Beautiful,” he murmured, looking down at me.

I looked up at him and our eyes locked, and I felt a fire burn deep in my groin. He had the brightest blue eyes I had ever seen, and I could stare into them forever. I could feel his erection pressed against my stomach and had the sudden urge to ask him to fuck me.

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