Hinako Mori Raped by Father-in-law. Hinako cherished her marriage. Her husband was a kind man, gentle and loving. But a shadow hung over their home, a heavy presence she couldn’t shake – her father-in-law. The man was crass, his comments lewd, his gaze lingering far too long. She endured it, biting back her anger for the sake of her husband and the fragile peace she tried to maintain. Moral harassment was a daily occurrence, peppered with touches that strayed too close to sexual harassment. She felt trapped, her own home becoming a place of constant unease.
One afternoon, her husband was called away for work. The house suddenly felt larger, emptier, and more dangerous. She tried to distract herself, but exhaustion eventually pulled her under. She drifted off to sleep on the sofa, the afternoon sun warm on her skin.
A shadow fell across her face, waking her slightly, but her eyes remained heavy. It was a man’s scent, sharp and unpleasant, not her husband’s familiar warmth. Before she could fully open her eyes, a rough hand was on her thigh, pushing up her skirt. Panic jolted her awake, heart hammering against her ribs. It was her father-in-law, eyes glinting with a disturbing excitement.
He reeked of stale cigarettes and something else, something acidic and unsettling. His hand was heavy, invasive as he shifted her underwear to the side. She tried to sit up, to push him away, but he was stronger, his weight pinning her down. “Don’t struggle, Hinako,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust. His other hand clamped over her mouth, suffocating her gasp of protest.
His face descended, his mouth hot and wet on her genitals through her thin panties, the smell of her own sweat suddenly amplified and disgusting in this violation. He was devouring her there, like some starved animal, his actions rough, hurried, devoid of any tenderness. She was frozen, fear paralyzing her limbs, only the frantic pounding of her heart a testament to her terror.
Then, he moved, his weight shifting as he ripped at her clothing, tearing open her blouse, exposing her breasts. He licked and sucked at her roughly, bruising her skin. She closed her eyes, tears leaking out from under her lids, a silent scream trapped in her throat.
He forced her legs apart, the rough fabric of his trousers scratching against her inner thighs. The pain was sharp, brutal as he forced himself inside her, a crude, merciless thrust that ripped through any remaining pretense of dignity. He moved with a frantic, animalistic rhythm, each thrust a violent violation, stealing something precious from her with every push. She was a ragdoll beneath him, her body being used, abused, her will utterly broken.
When it was over, he collapsed onto her, panting, leaving his seed deep inside her, a final act of defilement. He rolled off her, leaving her body aching, violated, and cold. He stood, adjusting his clothes, his eyes lingering on her naked form with a possessive, sickening satisfaction before leaving the room, leaving her alone in the shattered ruins of her peace. She knew, with a chilling certainty, this was not the end. The predatory look in his eyes promised a future of fear, her body now an open target, forever vulnerable to his depraved desires.
