Valentina Amor took a bow and stepped off the stage.  This was her fourth year at the L.A. Cosplay Con, and the YouTube star was becoming quite the hit.  “Muchas gracias.  Thank you, thank you everyone,” she said in her thick Venezuelan accent, brushing her pink bangs out of her eyes from the wig for her Ulala from Space Channel 5 outfit.  It was an old costume, but it was still a fan favorite.  A lot of her retro cosplay costumes were coming back, and while she didn’t mind making new ones, and everyone loved her instructional videos on how to do the new ones, it was just easier to throw on one of her old staples sometimes.

She put her headphones around her neck as she was hit with a throng of fans, wanting pictures and autographs.

She posed for one quick flurry of pictures, blinking against the garage of flashes.  “Thank you.  It’s been busy day.  I will be back again tomorrow for more.  Te amo!” she blew them all a kiss and turned to leave.

A tall man stood in front of her, the short Latina barely coming up to his shoulder.  “Hey.  I want a picture with you, Valentina.”

She looked around for event security.  She couldn’t see anyone.  “Lo siento.  I’m sleepy and have a busy day tomorrow.”

“I just want a quick picture.  It’ll be quick, I promise.”  He put a heavy hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged under him.  Fans getting touchy was nothing new to her, and the shoulder certainly wasn’t the worst place she’d been touched, but something about this guy unsettled her.

“Hey man, she said she’s tired.”  

There were the fans she loved.  She flashed a grateful smile to her rescuer.  He gave her a polite nod.  He stared up at the man who’d grabbed her, staring him down.

“I just wanted a quick picture.”

“She said she’d be back tomorrow.  Why don’t you be a gentleman and let her pass?”

He grumbled, “Not cool, bro,” under his breath and stalked off.

“Muchas gracias,” she said.

“De nada,” he replied.

“Hablas español?” she asked.

He chuckled.  “No, not really, but I know how to say you’re welcome to a pretty lady who thanks me.”

“Oh, well thank you.  I don’t think he was a bad man, but it’s been a long day.”

“Say no more.  Can I walk you back to your room?”

“I would like that.”  She smiled at him, and took his offered arm.  “Are you a fan?”

“I guess I am.  I only recently discovered you.  I gotta say, you do a great Ulala.”

She laughed.  “She’s one of my favorites!”

“I don’t get to play many games these days, I don’t know who half these characters are anymore, but if you keep doing old school Dreamcast characters, consider me a fan.”

“Aw, I have a Gum costume, but I didn’t bring it.  The skates are a pain at conventions.”

“Classic Jet Set Radio.  That’s too bad, I’d love to see you as her.”

She smiled.  “Maybe another time.  I have videos.”  They reached her room.

“I’ll have to look those up.”

“Would you like an autograph, or a picture?”

“No, you said you were tired.  I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

“Thank you.”  She gave him a kiss on the cheek.  “I hope to see you again.”

“See you soon.”

She opened her hotel room and went inside.  It was always nice to meet a good fan.  She got into the cosplay business because of her own love of the characters, but the fans kept her going.  It occurred to her she should probably do a quick video for her fans before she turned in for the night, just a quick check in after day one to remind everyone where she was and what she was doing.  She stepped into the bathroom to adjust her wig and fix up her makeup.  The cosplayer put her headphones back on and went out and pulled out her laptop.  She sat on her bed flipped it open and set it on the opposite bed and turned on her camera.  

“Hola.  I had a great day at L.A. Cosplay Con!  So many great fans!  Just to remind, I will be-”

She froze, her eyes fixed on the video feed.  A dark, hooded figure stood behind her, having come out of seemingly nowhere in her hotel room.  

She lunged for her laptop.  The figure descended upon her, grabbing her from behind.  “Hellmmph!” she managed to scream before a large hand calmed over her mouth.

“None of that,” a deep voice breathed into her ear.

She managed to wrestle one arm free and slapped the stop recording button.  She managed to get close to the "publish to YouTube" button before he yanked her backwards.  She stared at her laptop, the pointer poised above the publish button.  One click and the video would go live, and her nearly 50,000 watchers would all see that was happening.

“We can’t have that,” her assailant growled, adjusting his grip and grabbing her free wrist, holding her tightly.  She struggled and screamed into his smothering hand.  He tightened his grip, his hands twisting her wrist and squeezing her jaw.  “Calm down,” he hissed in her ear.

Fear gripped her, and she was torn, part of her wanting to fight for her freedom, another part of her wanting to listen for fear of him hurting her.  She made one desperate attempt to throw herself free, struggling for all she was worth and screaming her lungs out into his hand.  “HHHHHMMMMPHHH!!”

His grip snapped tighter, and he adjusted his hand over her mouth, keeping his palm glued over her lips while his thumb and forefinger squeezed her nostrils shut.  “I said calm down!”

She fought for a few more seconds in a blind panic, struggling to breathe.  She calmed down quickly as her lungs screamed for oxygen, leaning passively against him, her wide eyes darting about the room.

“Good girl,” he said in a low voice, releasing her nostrils and letting her suck in sweet air.  “I’m going to let go of you.  Don’t scream, don’t speak, don’t try to run, don’t try to fight.  I will hurt you.”  

She believed it, and she stood, breathing heavily through her nose, trying to catch her breath.

“Nod that you understand!”

She nodded frantically, mumbling, “Mmmhmmm,” into his hand.

“Good girl,” he praised her again.  He slowly let go of her, his hands still poised to grab her if she tried anything.  She panted through her mouth, conscious of how loud her breathing was.  Her eyes flicked to her laptop, seeing the mouse still hovering over the publish icon.

“That’s a bad idea,” he whispered in her ear.  “There’s no help coming for you.”  Her heartbeat quickened.  “You belong to me now.”

She went for it, making a desperate dive for the laptop.  He was on her in a second, tackling her onto the bed next to the laptop.  She tried to reach for the laptop, but he pinned her hand.  She tried to scream for help, but he slammed her face into the mattress, the covers absorbing her cries for help.  “I told you I would hurt you,” he hissed as she flailed under him.  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the zip ties he had waiting.  She was wild, but he moved with practiced skill, wrangling up her flailing arms and wrenching them behind her back and zip tying her wrists and them her elbows together, all the while keeping her screaming face pressed deep into the mattress until she was hoarse from screaming in futility and she was running short on air again.  He grabbed her by her hair and yanked her head back.  Valentina sucked in air to try and scream again, only for him to cram a thick cloth between her teeth, working it deep into her mouth.  Two zip ties attached together pulled into her mouth, the thin plastic cutting deep into the corners of her mouth kept her from spitting her gag out.

She panted through her nose, staring up at him, her big, brown, doe eyes wide and terrified.  She kicked her legs in one last desperate attempt at resistance as he zip tied her ankles together.  “You need to learn,” he said.  She screamed into her gag as he yanked her towards the edge of the bed, pulling her legs over the side and leaving her bent over the side of the bed.  He leaned over the bed himself and turned his attention to her laptop.  “Can’t have this.”  He closed the video of him sneaking up on her.  If she’d watched it back, she might have noticed him crawling out from under her bed where he’d been waiting.  In the laundry room in one of the laundry baskets, buried under a pile of a sheets was a bound and gagged maid he’d stolen a key from to get in and wait for his opportunity to kidnap the YouTube celebrity.

He started recording a new video, turning the laptop to face her.  She stared at her terrified face, the edges of the cloth protruding from her mouth and the tight zip tie distorting her mouth into a garish grimace.  Her pink wig had come eschew in the struggle and her headphones were lopsided and coming off of both of her ears.  He straightened her hair and accessories before getting off the bed and standing behind her.

“Mmmmph!  Plllmph nnnnn!” she cried, praying she was wrong about what she feared he was about to do.

“Look into the camera,” he barked.  She watched as he started unbuckling his belt.  She shook her head, pleading into her gag.  She started struggling and bucking about on the bed as he pulled down his fly, his jeans hanging around his waist for a moment, held up by his erection briefly before gravity pulled them to his knees.  He yanked his boxers down next, and she shut her eyes as his cock sprang free.  “Open your eyes,” he said.  She obeyed, tears streaming from her eyes as he reached up her skirt and jerked her panties down around her thighs.  She shook her head, blubbering last ditch desperate pleas for him to not do this, but her incoherent sobbing fell on unsympathetic ears.  

“Watch.”

She couldn’t do anything else as he rammed himself deep inside of her.  Her eyes were glued to the video of his hard face, his jaw set with the exertion of plowing into her hard repeatedly from behind, raping her.  She bleated into her gag with each savage thrust, not able to tear her eyes away.  

He stared down at, focused but otherwise emotionless.  Her rapist looked to experience neither pleasure nor remorse at his actions.  He had told her he would hurt her.  If she’d just done what he’d said could she have avoided this?  Or was this an inevitability from the moment she came back to her hotel room where he was waiting for her?  She got all sorts of lewd and perverted and even threatening comments on her videos and private messages, guys telling her all the horrible things they’d like to do to her.  It was part of the industry, something she’d learned to shrug off early.  They were frustrated, sexist bullies hiding behind their keyboards.  None of that was supposed to happen in reality.  Even the guy earlier at the convention who’d creeped her out; she’d never imagined that he’d try anything more than to cop a feel.  But her abductor was very real.  His dick thrusting into her unwilling vagina over and over was not an idle threat.  He’d told her he would hurt her.  And now he was.  He’d been waiting for her in her hotel room and had overpowered her and tied her up.  And now he could do anything he wanted to her.

She heard his breath quickening and felt his rhythm picking up speed.  She recognized the expression on his face as his jaw tightening and his lips pulled back, and she buried her face in the mattress, unable to watch anymore.  He didn’t make her watch as he came inside her, pumping his seed deep into her.  She sobbed into the disheveled covers as he pulled out of her, wiping his dick across her ass before he pulled his pants back up.

He didn’t speak to her as he fished with his foot under the bed until he caught the handle of his duffel back and pulled it out, grabbing a roll of duct tape.  He didn’t need to threaten her again as he dragged her up off of the bed and sat her in the heavy chair by the window.  She leaned back against her bound arms, grunting softly into her gag as the cruel zip ties dug a bit deeper.  Already her limps were starting to go numb; she couldn’t see her hands but she knew they must be turning purple, getting cold and painfully swollen by the blood trapped there.  Valentina stared at the door, willing someone to burst in, the cops, hotel staff, the man who’d come to her aid earlier, anyone.  But the door remained closed as her captor taped her tightly to the chair.  She looked at him, moaning pitifully into her gag, wondering what he was going to do with her.  He answered her questioning moans with more duct tape wrapped tightly over her mouth, further muffling her attempts to speak.

He returned to her laptop, the back of it facing her as he messed around with it.  Maybe he was going to post the video.  She didn’t care in that moment if her rape was broadcast to the world.  They’d figure out where it had come from, where she was, and help would come.

He spun the laptop around, leaving it on the edge of the bed facing her.  He hit play, and she watched.  “Mmmmph!  Plllmph nnnnn!” her muffled cries came from the speaker as she watched him once more prepare to violate her.

“Look into the camera,” his recording said.  Her past self looked into the camera and she watched the video, reliving it.

“Open your eyes,” the recording reminded her, and her captor hit the repeat button on the video player.  Oh god, he was going to make her watch it over and over again.  

Without a word to her, he left the room.  She watched as he opened the door, trying to call out through her gag for help, but the hall was empty, and he shut the door, leaving her alone.

Not totally alone.  She had the video to keep her company.

Valentina Amor watched as he raped her over and over again.