Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Adults Only

   A fictional tale of sex and violence.  Unsuitable for children, puritans
and those prohibited from thinking about such things by government decree
or superstition.  A partly illustrated version appears on my website.

   The RAPE'S PROGRESS - PART 3

   It was easy to break into the house to which Rebecca had directed me.  A
quick search of the kitchen seemed to bear out what she had told me about
the owners being away on holiday.  There was no perishable food in the
fridge and the room was spotlessly clean.  A more detailed search revealed
a hidden drawer in which I found an automatic pistol, some pills labeled
'Joy Balls' and a bottle of single-malt whisky.

   At that time I knew little about guns and less about social drugs.  It
was foolish of me to swallow a 'Joy Ball' and to wash it down with scotch
before starting my search for the wall safe where Rebecca had said I would
find some undeclared income belonging to the wealthy residents.  The
initial symptoms were giddiness and blurred vision plus a feeling of
euphoria and an erection.  I found a CD player and treated myself to some
music and almost failed to hear the front door open to admit the lady of
the house carrying a bag of groceries.

   She was in her early thirties, attractive and smartly dressed.  When she
saw me, she turned to run.  I caught her before she reached the door.

   'Oh!  God!' she said, 'Don't shoot me!'

   I had forgotten I was holding the gun, being more interested in
exploring the tender flesh of her left tit.  My total lack of concern at
being caught burglarizing and my overwhelming desire to nail the
unfortunate woman was, I learned later, a result of whisky and 'Joy Balls'.

   'I won't shoot you,' I snarled, 'If you do exactly as I tell you!' She
nodded agreement.

   'So Strip for me!' I whispered.

   Reluctantly the red headed householder did as she was told.  She took
off her jacket and hung it neatly over a kitchen chair.  On my insistence
she tried to move in time to the music as she slipped her smart silk dress
off one shoulder then another.  She was clumsy.  She nearly tripped over
her discarded dress as she removed her bra and tried to cover her full,
pink-tipped, breasts behind fluttering hands.

   'Please!' she said in a quavering voice, 'Don't do this!  There's some
money and jewelry in the house.  I'll give it all to you if you stop now
and go.  I won't call the police or anything . . .  '

   I laughed.  'I'm going to take it anyway but first, Lady, I'm going to
give you such a hard fucking time you'll wonder if it was a nightmare or
one long wet dream.  Now show me those tits and I'll show you what treat's
in store for you!' And so saying I unzipped my jeans to expose the 'Joy
Balls' enhanced erection which was still growing.

   Whether it was the sight of my swelling prick, my alcohol inspired
gutter talk or the gun, 'Joy' (not her real name) started to cry. 
Nevertheless she did as ordered and soon stood before me offering first one
ripe bosom then the other.  She teased each protuberant nipple until the
erectile flesh responded and they stood out like two little sticks of pink
candy.

   I made her lick them.  Seeing her moist red tongue caress each teat
caused me to decide that, despite my long established fear of being bitten,
Joy was going to have the privilege of initiating me into the art of
fellatio.

   It took all my self control not to grab her then and start the
proceedings but there were things I needed to know and while she bumped and
ground in a pleasingly amateurish way I questioned her.

   Joy had returned from holiday a day early for a hair appointment.  Hubby
wouldn't appear until tomorrow.  She was 32.  There were no children.

   'O.K.!' I said, 'Enough playing with your tits!  Get your knickers off
and show me your snatch!'

   Joy tried to delay matters by continuing to talk.  Breathlessly she
warned me that her husband, Robert, had installed sophisticated security
devices around the house and that the police could, even now, be on their
way to investigate my break in.

   I shut her up with a single light tap to her left tit with the barrel of
the automatic and after that she was more obedient.

   Joy slowly slid the silken undies over her rump and down her
stocking-clad legs in time to the music.  Her bush was trimmed to a neat
auburn stubble which, framed by a thin white garter belt, was most
inviting.

   On my instructions she used the expensive panties to stroke between her
thighs, drawing the stretched fabric backwards and forwards between her
labia major to caress the inner lips of her cunt.

   After a while, she began to pant - becoming sexually aroused despite the
circumstances she found herself in.  Then, realizing what she was doing,
Joy stopped masturbating and threw her panties down.

   'I won't do it!  I won't!  she cried, and stamped her foot like a small
girl in a tantrum.

   I crossed the gap which separated us in two strides and drove my free
hand between her legs.  My thumb went into her moistening crack while my
horny forefinger penetrated her arse.  Joy squealed with surprise and pain
as I squeezed.

   'Time to get serious,' I whispered in her ear.  'Feel my prick!'

   Held fast by my left hand she could do nothing but obey or suffer.  Her
soft hand closed gently around my, by now, enormous swollen cock.  I might
have mentioned that both my half-brother (and absentee guardian) and I are
very well endowed but on this occasion the 'Joy Balls' had pumped me up to
painful proportions.

   'How do I compare with Bob?' I asked my trembling victim.  There was no
need for an answer.  The fear in her eyes and the fresh outburst of sobbing
said it all.

   Joy's hand felt cool against my blood engorged member which, affected by
the 'Joy Balls' and the scotch, was beginning to cause me acute discomfort.
My head was starting to spin and I was finding it hard to concentrate.  My
testicles, too seemed to be swelling.

   'Feel my balls!' I grunted.  Joy used her free hand to obey.  She
carefully lifted each one as if she was buying tomatoes from a fruit stall.
'Well?' I hissed.

   'They they're huge,' she sobbed.  And they were, having gone into mass
production of seminal fluid because of the drugs!

   I took my hand from the frightened housewife's twat, and seized the back
of her neck and pushed her down.  She didn't resist, nor did she release
her gentle hold on my penis, the tip of which was level with her
tear-filled eyes.

   'So make them smaller!' I said.  'Suck me dry!  But if I get even the
hint of teeth, I'll blow your fucking head clean off!  Do you understand!

   Joy nodded and with a sob gave my aching tool a tentative lick before
taking the glans into her mouth, cushioning the underside with her sweet
tongue..  This was the first time I had been fellated .  I had not dared to
trust Phoebe, my sex-slave and one-time English mistress, with my prick in
her mouth but under the influence of 'Joy Balls' and booze, all caution was
forgotten.

   The sight alone of Joy's pretty red lips encircling my purple veined and
monstrously swollen dick brought me close to orgasm and in a few short
minutes I came.  Before I did, I reached down and pressed her head onto my
shaft.  Joy had no choice but to swallow what, for me, was an exorbitant
quantity of gism.

   When she had finished retching she discovered, to her horror, that
although her efforts had brought me some relief, my erection had not
retreated an inch.  I stood her up and before she could catch her breath I
bent her backwards over the kitchen bench and rammed it into her cunt.

   Joy lay on her back, howling, while I plundered her pussy.  Her vagina
was as tight as Phoebe's had been when I first fucked her in the box room
at school.  I noticed the way her tits surged back and forward in time to
my thrusts and again found that I was filling my victim with buckets of
warm cum without becoming softer or shorter.  I was beginning to panic. 
You read about people who have permanent erections and have a bit of a
laugh.  It's not so funny when it's your prick that won't lie down.

   I withdrew and had another gulp of whisky.  Joy tried to appeal to my
better nature - a bad mistake.

   'What would your mother say, if she knew what you have done to me?' she
warbled.'Please, Oh, Please stop this...'

   'My mother was a sadistic old bitch,' I said.  'She would be asking why
I hadn't sodomized you before cutting you up for body parts!!' I grinned
drunkenly into her startled eyes then I spun Joy around and positioned the
head of my prick against her tight pink sphincter.

   'NO!' she screamed

   'Yes!' I replied and ripped into her arse, forcing my prick - now slick
with 'hers' and 'mine' juices - remorselessly up her fundament until my
still oversized balls slammed into her sore and puffy vulva causing us both
to moan.  Me with pleasure, she with pain.

   I'm not blaming the whisky and the goddamned pills for everything that
happened that day, although they contributed a lot to my carelessness if
not my lust.  I would probably have been tempted to rape Joy even had I
been stone cold sober when she walked in on me unexpectedly.  After all, I
had already raped one mature woman and derived enormous satisfaction from
the deed.  I loved the way my first victim's, Phoebe Howard's, eyes had
registered indignation then disbelief, then fear and later tearful guilt.
I'm sure it was guilt, at having, perhaps, satisfied some primitive desire
to be overpowered by a rutting male and made to perform sexual acts which
she would otherwise only have thought about.

   After I had moved in with Phoebe and chained her, naked, to our bed, she
had grown more used to being forcibly fucked.  After a few weeks she had
become, I thought, resigned to her role as sex-slave.  She climaxed more
often and wept less.  A bit of the magic had gone out of our relationship.

   Recently she had been humiliated in front of Rebecca, my fence's
bisexual daughter.  When we pierced Phoebe's nipples, so she could wear a
pair of antique pearl drops, some of the earlier terror she had experienced
seemed to have returned.  It was in her eyes, I thought, when I left her to
Rebecca's not-so-tender mercies to steal from the safe in the bedroom of
Joy's supposedly empty house.

   So I'm no angel.  But I'm usually no fool either and I blame the drugs
for making me one that day.

   My last clear memory of what happened during the few hours which
followed is of being scrotum-deep in Joy's arse hole, banging away as if I
were trying to knock her head off from inside.

   She was howling and squealing like a little piglet as we careered across
the modern open-plan kitchen, knocking over chairs and stumbling over
discarded clothes.  I can remember vividly the intense pleasure I felt at
the way her nicely shaped breasts swung wildly and seemed to shudder with
every forceful stroke of my prick.

   When I resurfaced some time later, Joy was a gibbering wreck and I still
had that bloody erection!

   I still had an erection and it was rammed down the woman's throat.  She
was choking, I realized, and I quickly withdrew.  As I pulled back I pulsed
yet another gusher of semen into he mouth.

   Joy opened her eyes an gave me a look of pure terror.

   'Nh..  Nh..  Nh!' was all she could manage.

   Later it was alleged that, during the period which I can not remember, I
had sodomized the housewife to the edge of consciousness.  Then I had
forced her to lick me clean before tying her to a kitchen cupboard adjacent
to one of the kitchen surfaces, in such a way to let me screw her in a
variety of ways.

   Judging by the mess I saw when I had sobered up a little this was
certainly true.  I'd also stripped off completely.

   I had, it was claimed, first fucked her senseless, doggy fashion,
(that's not how it was put - ' repeatedly penetrated her vagina from the
rear while gripping her breasts with sufficient force to bruise them and
cause her to again lose consciousness ...' was what was said).  When she
came to it was alleged that ' the youthful intruder ...' had '...  again
laid her on the kitchen surface, then knelt astride his recumbent victim in
order to use her breasts to further gratify his animal urges ...'

   I wish I could remember tit-fucking the stupid bitch.  According to the
record '...  she was obliged to assist in this despicable act by receiving
the end of his penis in her mouth ...' Quite a trick, eh?

   Having shaken off the worst of the mind numbing effects of the scotch
and 'Joy Balls' I pressed on with the robbery - which is why I was there in
the first place.

   I didn't need the gun so I put it back in the hidden draw with the box
of pills.  A few loose ones I tossed into my sports bag.  I untied my
victim and helped her to the toilet where she was able to clean up most of
the mess.  I used my belt to encourage her to be quick and to remind Joy
that I was still in charge.  I felt a bit silly still sporting an erection
like a character from an Aristophanes' Comedy but at least my swollen balls
were back to their normal size.

   We moved through the house collecting bits and pieces until we reached
the small bedroom where Rebecca had told me the wall safe was.  Rebecca had
also given me the combination but I didn't open the safe straight away.

   I thought that, 'to protect my informant' I'd get Joy to reveal the
numbers.

   'But I don't know the combination!' she wailed.

   'Don't give me that crap!' I shouted, 'Just tell me the numbers or I'll
really hurt you!' And I gave her a whack across the buttocks with my belt.

   'But I can't tell you if I don't know!' she howled desperately.  'It was
only put in before we went on holiday!  There's nothing in it!  Oh, please,
what are you doing?'

   I had thrown her onto the bed and was busy tying Joy's ankles to her
wrists when I noticed the combination written backwards on the back of the
picture which covered it.

   The safe was empty.  I gave Joy's breasts a few whacks with the belt to
get her to reveal where the money had been moved to, but she swore
convincingly that there was none.  She begged me to stop beating her.

   'Please Please, Sir!' she shouted as the belt slapped across her scarlet
nipples.  'Don't hit me any more!'

   'The money?' I asked, giving the underside of her tits a studied swipe.

   'Aargh!  There is none!' she warbled.  'If there was I'd tell you. 
Please stop!  I'll do anything anything!'

   'Well,' I said, 'Perhaps if you asked me to fuck you again.'

   Joy spread her legs wide.  'F Fuck me, please!' she whispered

   'Oh, no, not like that, Joy,' I said, and gave her pussy an encouraging
flick with my belt 'Put some feeling in it, some flattery!'

   She screamed, then gabbled, 'Please, Sir, Please fuck me again.  You've
such a big prick it feels so good inside me I'll suck it first, if you like
but fuck me, fuck me fuck me!'

   So I did.

   'My balls might have been O.K.  but my brain must have still been
befuddled or I would have realized that I'd been set up by Rebecca when the
safe proved empty.

   Joy had warned me that her husband had installed some electronic
security measures.  Within half an hour of my opening the safe the cops
arrived.  I was still playing with Joy's tits when they walked in.  Having
been caught red handed I made a clean breast of my crime, only omitting the
gun and the pills.  Neither of which appeared in Joy's second and
subsequent statements.  I guess they were unlicenced and non prescribed.

   The case was a sensation, with the press demanding changes to the law to
permit them to name me and to report the event in full tabloid glory.  But
the State protects juvenile criminals and the press, and poor Joy, were not
even permitted into the court room.  Here, a friendly lady Magistrate told
me what a naughty boy I had been and sent me to the State Reformatory for
twelve months.  My guardian, who was still at sea, sent me a fax from
Singapore two weeks later.  Both Rebecca and Phoebe disappeared.

   I kept a scrap-book of press cuttings concerning the event.'Teen-age
Rapist's Seven Hour Sexathon' was my favorite headline, closely followed by
'He Made Me Beg For It - Says Teenagers' Sex Toy'.  I was glad to see that
Joy sold her story to one of Murdoch's organs for a tidy sum and that a
movie was being planned.