Message-ID: <2553eli$9708011040@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/2553.txt> From: heminway@epix.net (heminway) Subject: Poetic Justice (M+/F Rape/Revenge/f mast.) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <33e0d100.75438048@newsserver.epix.net> Standard Disclaimer: Don't read if under 18 years of age. Don't read if sexually explicit material is not your cup of tea. E-mail or Post your reaction or critique. Flames will be ignored. I have asbestos in my veins. Enjoy! Contact Information: Hawk Richards (heminway@epix.net) ************************************************************* Poetic Justice By Hawk Richards *NOTE: This is not your normal non-consensual rape story. It is a story about a young woman put through a horrid experience and living to deal with the consequences. Yes, there is rape, torture, sex and intrigue. It is also a character sketch of a woman whom is trying to overcome revenge, anger, guilt, betrayal etc. Be warned this is poetic Justice. All right, I bet you're thinking, "What kind of sex is in this story?" Here's a clue: the story contains rape, sodomy, torture, revenge on the assailants, and female solo-masturbation. Ok, all notices, notes, and warnings are over! You may proceed. Poetic Justice The whip sounded like thunder. The crimson of the mark burnt like a torch. She cringed as the peels of laughter sounded and urine streaked her pale thighs. The laughter echoed in the shadows and in clung to her mind. The smoke filled room irritated her tear-spent eyes. The light in her face blinded her from the sight of the unknown number of punishers. She felt a hand grope her intimate crease. The touch was not soft and soothing, but hard and crude. It poked and searched for her bud. It found it and pinched. The pleasure/pain seared her body and wracked her senses. She writhed against her tight bonds. She was bent over a bench secured by leather straps. Her dirty blond hair fell over her face in fits of anguish. The bench did not conceal her breasts that pressed against the hard unyielding wood. Her ass was stuck up in the air, as if on display. Her buttocks were red and bruised to the pint of welts. The agony was not as bad as the degradation she felt. Whispers in the corner caught her attention. The voices were distant. The fear was present. Suddenly she felt her buttocks pressed against by a body. The hard protruding sex of a faceless man poked her flesh. She could not cry any more for she was empty of tears. There were just screams and moans from her sore throat. The unknown man pulled her ass cheeks apart and stuck a finger up her anus. The sudden intrusion was a surprise. She thought he was going to thrust into her sex, but he was going to do something much worse. She felt a slippery liquid fill her crack and drip over her puckered rose. A finger probed and pushed into her asshole. It pumped in and out. She felt a sudden fulfillment for the act was gentle, yet she knew it was not going to last. A hand had started stroking her labia, then fingering her clitoris in circles and she couldn't help, but like the soothing attention she felt.. The new sensation of pleasure was a great difference from the torture she had felt earlier, yet she felt dirty, wrong. Her body betrayed her, as the sensations became too much to bear. Her total humiliation did nothing but heighten her arousal. Had they won. Did she lose. Her mind went blank as the orgasm hit her and wracked her soul as she went slowly into unconsciousness. She awoke in a cold cell unbound and naked. She shivered. She wrapped the sheet from the bed around her body. Her mind was beyond the bounds of humanity. She thought like an animal as the door swung open. She attacked denying her body's own cries of pain at the movement. She sprung like a cat and swiped her nails at her jailer's face. Her nails tore through the soft flesh of an eye sending pain immediately throughout the big man. As he fell to the floor wailing, she hit him over the head with a chair. She slammed the door, tore the clothes off her subdued jailer, and put them on tightening the belt much further than he ever would have worn it in order to keep the pants up. She briefly looked down at the man and grinned an almost evil smile. She picked up the revolver she had found on his person and cocked the gun, then uncocked it thinking better of the idea. She then stomped excessively on his groin repeatedly. With this present given to her jailer, she fled from the room. She headed for the stairs. Close to the bottom near the exit, she met up with more of her jailers. Even though she did not get a chance to see the faces during her torture, she knew that these men were in on it. Especially because of the surprise on their faces as they died each with a bullet through the chest. Escaping out the exit door, she was never seen by her jailers again, until a surprise fire the next night where a dark figure in the alley before the explosion was reported to the police. Part 2 A small black and white cat jumped up onto the bed. It surveyed the large lump laying in a fetal position on the bed. The woman had not left her bed for a week. She whimpered and cried herself to sleep. The cat licked the salty tracts of her tears and nuzzled the young woman's face. Cheryl had never been the prom queen or the cheerleader type. She was not athletic. Her parents were loving and always let her pursue her dream of becoming an artist. She painted floral designs and happy scenes on canvas with her trusty horsehair brushes. The colors were vivid and outstandingly beautiful. She looked at the loving eyes of a devoted animal that would never harm her. She heard the purr of the kitten and pet her head. She picked the cat up into her arms and hugged it, trying to steal the innocence she herself had lost a week earlier. Cheryl got up off the bed, putting her guilt and fear behind her for the moment. Her body ached as she moved towards the bathroom. Areas, intimate areas of her body made her wince at the discomfort. Each step was a horrid reminder of the torture she was put through. The shame, the horror, the guilt, and the terror she had experienced started to overwhelm her once again. Anger flared her nostrils. Then fear made her face drain of color as she saw her image in the mirror. Memories of her revenge flashed into her memory. Almost like slow motion, the image of the carnage of her own survival instincts welled up into a haze of sheer terror. She still could not believe that she had killed four men, burned the evidence, and gotten away from the physical torture. Yes, she had gotten away from the mere physical torture, but not the emotional scares she would have to live with forever. She scrubbed her face with a wet wash cloth. The steam of the running faucet had fogged up the image on the mirror. Her whole world was blurred into a ball of nothingness. She disrobed and slowly sank into the hot bath. Even throughout the total pain and terror she had been through, a tingle started in her body. She knew it was because of the instinctual ritual she had enjoyed since she had first discovered her sexuality while taking a bath. It reminded her body of its needs. Guilt, frustration, and tears welled up inside of her as the memories flooded back. There was a part of her that enjoyed that horrid torture. It was her body that betrayed her. She ran a hand unwillingly down across her body. The soft curves of her breasts jutted under her wandering hand. The sensation became stronger. The bruises were forgotten. The pain was buried. Her hand stirred her sexual appetite. She would not let the pain, suffering, and terror of that night take away her being. Cheryl grew up happy. She had followed the American Dream. She dated nice men. She didn't have the guilt associated with sex that others had. She always counted herself lucky. Still, her body had a mind of its own sometimes. That always made her self-conscious and it made her feel especially self-conscious this morning. Her anger welled up inside of her and she finally pushed the demons out of her mind and abandoned her body, soul and mind to the pleasure of her own hand. Nobody can take away what and who she dreamed herself to be. Her hand cupped her breasts urgently. She relished the soft feel of the spongy flesh tipped with hard nubbins of nipple. Tingles of pleasure surged through her body. She slowly encircled her nipples with her fingers caressing the edges of her aeroles. She pressed, squeezed and pinched her nipples rhythmically. Her hips jerked uncontrollably in the water. The water lapped in waves at her body splashing her flesh with its wet warmth. Her fingers wandered lower to her stomach. She ran her hand in circles torturing herself with the pleasure of waiting. Yet again, she abandoned herself to the pleasure and dove her hand into the water. She searched out her own wet pleasure. Her fingers caressed the outer lips running up and down her slit. Instinctively she found her clitoris and rubbed it softly while her other hand squeezed her breast. Her body writhed in the bubbled water. Her moans and groans echoed in the tiled bathroom. Suddenly her body became rigid for those few moments of pleasure. She squeezed her thighs together as she came. Her body flushed with pleasure. It was time to begin a new day. **Note: This was written after reading a non-consensual story. I have known women whom say they are rape victims (not this drastic) but they do not get over it. They do not disappear. Rape is a crime, which wounds the mind, the body and the soul. Flame me if you want, but I just wanted to have a story that showed a bit of a moral. By the way, flames will be ignored and compliments will be read. -- Send Comments, questions, critiques, etc to: Hawk Richards Email: heminway@epix.net -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/> .../assm/faq.html> /