She watched as he approached her, a calm fury simmering in her eyes. The way he spoke of his supposed connections was quite presumptuous. While her fiancée’s reach might have been limited to his jurisdiction, her father’s sphere of influence was vast, stretching across international territories far and wide. His resources were numerous, and though he was a terribly deceitful man he knew how to bargain and pull strings. Clara could only hope that he intended to do just that. The letter that laid at her knees was clear, despite her denial. Her father had no intention of returning the blueprints and she was beginning to worry that his stubbornness—his greed and insatiable need to “win”—was going to turn into her burden to bear. As the man neared her all the fire that burned in her cool, blue eyes seemed to diminish. It was difficult not to shrink like a wilting rose in his presence. He possessed an almost predatory gait, and it as though she were a hapless gazelle in an open field being stalked by a lion. By the time she had realized his intent, it was far too late.<br/><br/>He reached for her and before she could even think to pull away she was pulled forcefully to the edge of the stage. She could hardly fight against him. With her arms bound behind her back all she could do was squirm in his vice-like hold as he gripped her throat. Her jaw was clenched tight, making it so that she could scream as she dangled helplessly. His strength was uncanny, beyond what an average man was capable of with such ease. He held her up high, like she was nothing but a puny doll with her feet swaying and searching for the ground. As he pushed her back, she landed on the stage with a pitiful yelp. Her legs raised, missing him narrowly as she attempted to kick and thrust him back. But, he was far too fast. He invaded her space, stepping in close to begin ripping at her dress. The material may as well have been tissue paper in his hands as he effortlessly tore it from her form, revealing a positively divine figure with all her mouthwatering assets. They weren’t meant for him, of course, and her stomach turned to think of what might transpire.<br/><br/>“Stop!” She demanded, her voice weak and breathy from struggling against him. Horrified, she looked upon the shredded remains of her dress, but only for a moment before she was whirled around. Poor Clara was easier to maneuver in her briefly paralyzed state.<br/><br/>Clara’s gloriously blonde hair spilled forward as he bent her over, pressing her to the surface of the stage and applying pressure to the small of her back. Her hips tilted so that the flawless, round pillows of her ass were raised in the air, exposing her womanhood. “Stop . . . Please, stop.” She began to beg upon hearing the sound of his buckle clinking and his zipper coming undone. Her heart was racing in her chest, causing her to become short of breath as she laid against stage. All she could think about was how Andreas would never look at her the same way if he knew she had been violated. “<i>Please</i>. I’ll keep quiet . . . I’ll . . . I’ll do as I’m told. I’ll do anything, just don’t . . .” Clara pled, saying all the pretty words she believed he wanted to hear in order to save herself from being defiled.