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From: MeredithP3@aol.com
Subject: "Property Of" 1/8

"Property Of" by Meredith P. (MeredithP3@aol.com) M/F, F/F, NC,
Extreme Violence


			    "PROPERTY OF" by Meredith P.  ((c) Mar.
1997)



	   WARNING!                              ADULTS ONLY!
WARNING!


Readers are advised that they must be a minimum of twenty-one years of
age to read this story and that the following work is an example of
erotic fiction containing adult themes and graphic descriptions of
both consensual and nonconsensual sex acts as well as extreme
violence. Every element of this story, including the characters, are
fictitious and entirely the product of the authors imagination.
Caution: Do not read this story unless you are certain you have your
governments permission to do so.           


NOTICE:  THIS IS ABSURD FANTASY.    DON'T TRY ANY OF THIS AT HOME.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


My daddy was fond of saying, "The first few rows in the front in any
church are reserved for the people who are going straight to hell.  Be
careful where'ya sit."  




Chapter l    Try seeing it her way.


"Are you sure this what you want Mr. Hayes?" my attorney asked.

"Miss. Van Horn, I'm sure I don't want it.  I'm also sure I have no
choice."

"I must state once again for the record that I do not agree with what
is occurring here.  I would have gone to the highest authorities in
the state to report this arrangement myself, if it were not for the
fact that your mother and I were such close friends.  It is in
deference to her memory that I'm doing this.  It is not for you!  I
want you to know that I find the whole damn thing and everyone
involved in it quite despicable!  What is wrong with the young men and
women these days?  Things like this didn't happen when in my day.  I
implore you Robert for the last time, please, lets go to the proper
authorities with this matter." she said.

"And spend twenty years of my life in a cage?  No thanks!"

"You know Robert, the law serves the accused as well as the victim."

There she goes with that victim crap again!  Whose lawyer is she I
wondered.   A woman says she was raped and that's fucken it!  A female
says she was forcibly fucked and it becomes an indisputable fact.  A
terrible crime has been committed and the only thing left is to punish
the first male she happens to point at.  For those not pointed at,
male or female, there are terrible risks for even questioning  the
allegation.  As soon as she says the word it becomes a manhunt.  Some
fat cop says, "Tell us who did this to you honey" and anything goes.
And anything works.  A "not guilty" verdict is always reported as a
serious miscarriage of justice.  A damnable travesty!  Our whorish
politicians sense the cheap gains to be had, while the timid populace
obediently thinks as they're entertained to do so.  The fanatics won't
be satisfied till everyone save themselves is declared and punished as
a hopeless criminal.  Their allied cowards meanwhile, desperately pray
time will spare them, and if there're really lucky, their children as
well.  It's always so much safer to go along.

There had been a half dozen meetings between her lawyer and mine in
the past six weeks.


How did I get in this stupid mess? 

She says I sodomized her.  I say she blew me.

I had seen her a few times before in the clubs downtown.  She was the
kind'a chick that me and my friends call a "headache".  Every guy
knows the type, mid thirties, very thin, small, meatless tits and a
joggers face. Her father had paid a fortune for her MA degree from
some ivy-league diploma mill in some ridiculous field like ancient
Mayan dinner party themes.  She demands she's a professional while
she's been nothing but an "executive assistant" for the past ten years
and hasn't yet realized exactly what that means.  They always admit to
being a reformed man hater who now likes "some" men, while desperately
trying to deny the fact that their best days are behind them.  She's
the kind'a cunt whose pissed at her mother because her mother's angry
at her for never having been married.  The bane of family holidays!
Like I said, a fucken "headache", but at two a.m. she was a "headache"
with a warm pussy!  I hoped.

I had charmed my way into her little black heart and then back to her
even smaller barbie style apartment. We where as drunk as a whore and
her sailor.  For a while I listen to her stupid "I'm going to become a
writer" bullshit while drinking a few beer mugs of her favorite cheap
wine. At some point though, you have to let them know they're boring
you.  Right?  OK, so it's a kids game, but it's better than listening
to her expensively paid for ramblings.  

It's childish.  It's the nineties, may they burn in hell.  And it
always works.

"Look at the time!  I really should be going.  I think you're a pretty
neat lady.  I'd really like to take you out sometime.  That is, if
you'd want too?"

"Oh, do you have to go?"

"Not if you don't want me to?"  

The little wrestling match that we had on the living room floor seemed
to me like the kind of foreplay some chicks like before the surrender.
She didn't fight too hard, neither of us could.  We were both too
drunk.  I remember a few of her overly acted protestations being
interrupted by a more than few of her adolescent giggles.  She even
complained when I called time out to get some more wine.  I was
drunkenly trying to unhook her bra while sloppily kissing her little
wind worn nose.  I thought she was trying to progress matters when she
showed me it was a front lock.  We both laughed at the silliness of it
all.  Nothing but green lights all the way.

Every guy knows the game of pushing a girls head down on his crotch.
It's arm against neck, and penis always wins.  It's an old custom,
faithfully observed by both genders.  It lets a girl act like a slut
while not admitting to anyone that she willingly sucked a penis.  Even
more crucial is the fact that she doesn't have to admit  it even to
herself.  This way she can't be held responsible.  Now, she can
honestly lie to herself that she didn't like doing it.  That's always
the most important thing.  I learned early on that females are very
self-deluding creatures.  

In my thirty-one whore hunting years, I've come to understand that men
rely heavily on this little psychological quirk, while women,
absolutely depend on it.  And the whole time neither sex dares admit
it.

My temporary girlfriend said she had never sucked-off a guy before. At
first she just took the head into her mouth and just knelt there,
motionless, staring stupidly at my pubic hair.  It slowly  dawned on
her that she missing something.  While it may have been her first
blowjob, it turned out to be my first oxymoron.  People who don't know
say there's such a thing as a bad blowjob.  Bullshit!  Her damn teeth
were the culprits.  I actually had to concentrate to enjoy it.  Like
most guys, I consider myself a real trooper in these situations, so I
stuck it out.


"What am I supposed to do?"  she asked, not bothering to clear her
mouth of the obstruction.  I resisted the temptation to laugh and
pretended I didn't hear the question.

She figured it out all by herself and slowly got the swing of it but
stopped again just as I started enjoying myself.  

"I don't think I want to do this."  

I ignored her little complaints and made no attempt to disengage.
Sometimes the only way to teach someone to swim is to..... you know.
Practice!

She pretended she didn't say it either and resumed.

Nobody would ever call this girl an accomplished cocksucker but her
halfhearted persistence finally produced results. She looked genuinely
surprised when I shot half of my load into her mouth. She quickly
recoiled from the first shot and took the rest of my sperm all over
her shocked face. She appeared to be stunned.  Not saying anything she
gave me a confused kind'a look and closed her eyes.  My date began
choking on the sperm in her mouth while dripping gobs of it from the
her face. She spit out what she hadn't swallowed into her wine glass
and then got real still.  I'll never forget the look on her puss.  The
tears, the mascara and the semen were smeared all over her face. It
wasn't pretty.  Her shivering and quiet whimpering were the first hint
that she that she may have changed her mind.  No matter what I said
she just stared down at the floor and wouldn't look up.

"why did you make me do that?  why did you hurt me?"

Oh boy, here we go!
  
I remembered thinking, stay cool dude, we've seen this before.  I didn't think I did anything wrong, it's what you get for doing a headache I thought.  I knew I had to find a way to calm her down.  Every guy knows females have their own strange little rituals.  You just have to let them play themselves out.  Shit!  Women can't even explain'em.  I'd play along for a while then leave.  I always hated this part.

I tried to talk to her.  She just sat in the middle of the floor with
her favorite afghan held tightly around herself and sobbed.  She
wouldn't respond to anything I said, it was like I was talking to a
mannequin.

I began to get a little nervous.  I told her I thought it was OK, she
never said stop, I never forced her.  

She interrupted her whimpering long enough to tell me, "You ripped my
good bra."  Her whimpering turned to outright crying. Then she said
it.  

"Why did you force me to do that?  I don't believe what you did!  I
think you actually raped me!  You bastard you!"

Don't panic Robert old boy, above all don't let on you're getting
nervous.  Try to disarm the situation.  Any man in my place thinks
quickly, she knows she could say anything she wants and she knows
she'll be believed.    How many guys have had their lives ruined just
on the word of some hysterical bitch?  I didn't need this shit.  It's
true, there really is no such thing as free pussy.

I thought about using the proven tactic of proposing a second "date",
a movie or something, to make her think I really was interested in her
but decided against it.  I didn't enjoy our first date all that much.
I decided on ignoring the situation as the best means of defusing it.  

"Hey calm down.  You've gotten yourself all upset over nothing."

By way she reacted to my touching her shoulder you would have thought
I had given her an electric shock.  We both let the sound of the TV
takeover the room while waiting for her next move.  I guess she
couldn't figure out what she wanted, so we waited a long while. Trying
to break the stalemate, I got up to get her a glass of water and a wet
towel.

"Where you going?  You're not leaving are you?"

Their was a hint of panic in her voice.  I knew I was home free!  If
she really thought I had raped her she would be running bare-ass naked
down the street shouting at the top of her lungs.  You don't ask the
guy that just raped you to stick around awhile longer, right?  Fucken
women!

"It's four thirty in the morning Gail, I think we could both use some
sleep. Maybe we can do something tomorrow, a movie or something.  I'd
like that."  Robert Hayes is one silver tongued, lying, son of a
bitch.  

She didn't say anything but her sad eyes brightened a little.

"Goodnight honey, I'll call you later."

"really bobby?" .... "promise?" she said between sniffles.  

That sad puppy eyed expression she wore in the middle of that messy
face could have melted the heart of a dead man.  I smiled back
sincerely, 

"I promise."

and then I booked.  Robert Hayes is not only a lying, son of a bitch,
he's also a cad. 

I left and I never called.  Hell!  I wasn't going to let some
hysterical split-tail play mind games with me!  Who does that cunt
think she is anyway.  I never mentioned it to anyone.


About two months later I received a registered letter from a lawyer.
The lawyer said she was representing a rape victim.  The girl who was
raped was a "promising professional" named Gail Summers, whose life
had been "devastated" by the event.  I was the rapist.  The fact that
Ms. Summers had waited so long before reporting the horrible incident
was due to her "traumatized emotional state".  It seems her damaged
psyche was just one the many serious injuries I had "brutally
inflicted" on the poor girl.  Yet, in spite their "utmost certitude of
prevailing in a criminal proceeding", the gracious and ever
accommodating Ms. Summers was willing to seek other means of gaining
satisfaction.  It would be a civil action rather than a criminal
complaint.  Was I interested?  Would I rather have the police
involved?  Did I have a fucken choice? 

I thought I did.

The proposition that I was about to ratify was slow in developing.  At
first, all they said they wanted money, but I didn't have any.  I
offered to move away and never return but they could not see any
satisfaction in that.  In spite of their constant demand for
negotiation, they continually stated that it look like a criminal
prosecution and a long prison term was the only practical alternative.
Unless I could think of something else, something "substantial", they
we're going o the police.  On the advice of my attorney, we played
their game.  My lawyer told me "they can't get blood from a stone."
Through Van Horn I let them know I wanted very much to avoid a
criminal proceeding.  What I really meant was that I could neither
afford the expense nor the predetermined outcome.  My attorney advised
them that we were, plain and simply, out of things to offer.  She was
confident they were bluffing.  The other attorney's reply was a
hypothetical and rather curious proposal , but I see now it set a
precedent.  My supposed "victim's"  lawyer was a dyke by the name of
Murray.  She said she wanted to ask us first for our reaction before
she presented the idea to her client.  For what ever her reason, the
woman seemed to be trying to help me.  The person I paid to question
why, didn't.

She asked Van Horn "Do you think your client be willing to have a
vasectomy performed, if that would be enough to satisfy Ms. Summers?"  

Murray explained it would offer her client only a symbolic victory but
it seemed that was all that could be had given my meager resources.
My reluctant benefactor said she just wanted to get the whole thing
over with, her client wasn't rich either.  I remember my reaction when
Van Horn told me.  

"She wants what!!  You can't be serious!  What kind of a lunatic are
we dealing with?  

In a panic, I agreed. 

A day later Murray informed Van Horn that her client had rejected the
idea "out of hand" as insufficient and just plain ridiculous.  Murray
apologized and said Gail Summers had decided she wanted to send me to
prison and be done with it.  Her client couldn't think of any other
way to resolve the situation.  Murray said she still hoped that
wouldn't happen but she wasn't thinking about my welfare.  She said
she didn't want to put such a fragile girl through such an intense
ordeal as a rape trial.  It could cause further harm to her client's
delicate mental condition.  Murray said she would work on her client
to get her to see reason.  I didn't know it then but Murray was just
playing the good cop game.  Murray knew she had all the cards, she was
good at her job.  My lawyer wasn't good at anything.  We leapt at
every piece of bait thrown our way.  I found myself offering
everything.  I found myself offering anything.  They always came back
and said it wasn't enough.  It looked like I was going to a kangaroo
court and then to prison for something I didn't do.  

Van Horn tried discussing the idea of coping a plea with the D.A. but
I wouldn't listen.  I was determined not to end up like my brother
Eddie.  I planned to run if I had to.  At what was supposed to be the
last meeting, when the negotiations where to end, Murray made a
passing comment.  Her client had told her she wished the case was
being tried in one of those backwater countries you only hear about on
the news.  

"They have there own way of dealing with such matters."  

Van Horn stepped right into it.  

"And what would that be?" she asked .  

"Once a rapist is convicted, he was usually sentenced to a quick
death."  

Murray confessed even she thought that was a bit excessive.  

"However, the criminal can escape the death penalty and even jail for
that matter, but only if the women he raped would be willing to accept
a little bloodletting to avenge her honor.  The rapist must request
himself and the victim must give her consent."  Van Horn came in right
on cue.  

"Bloodletting?  What do you mean by a little bloodletting?"   

Murray first distanced herself from her answer by telling Van Horn she
was not making any such kind of ridiculous offer and she then
explained the curious foreign custom.  Upon hearing what she had to
say Van Horn was shocked that a fellow member of the Bar would be
playing such sport.  She didn't appreciate the arrogance of a young
whippersnapper playing mind games with a seasoned professional either.
Van Horn got seriously insulted.  She intended report the incident to
the Ethics Panel the moment I was found guilty.  My lawyer ended the
meeting warning Murray that her client had better be prepared to be
exposed as both a "congenital liar" and a "hopeless strumpet".  

They both knew it wouldn't happen that way.  

Afterwards Van Horn told me everything, including the fact that I
should be prepared to be arrested on a rape charge.  She also told me
about Murray's strange comment.  The old lawyer in her thought her
opposite was talented but very undisciplined.  

"She's the kind of lawyer that thinks she can play mind games with the
opposing attorney, ..... even with someone like me,  ....... really
very juvenile!"  

Always be afraid when your lawyer begins representing herself.  I
asked her, "When do you think the police will pick me up?"

"Be prepared to have it happen at any time, it could even happen
today.  You should know that the police like to make a show of these
things.  You must try to be calm when it happens.  Ms. Murray said she
would give me the courtesy of calling right after they make the
complaint.  I'll see if I can arrange a voluntary surrender, that way
I can go with you."

I wasn't going to run until I heard from Van Horn, maybe it was all a
bluff. The next week was pure torture.  Every knock on my door would
send my heart racing,  I became a total wreck.  I decided to make my
once every so often trip to visit my brother Eddie a little early.  I
thought it might be my last chance see him for a long time.  My
brother Eddie is an inmate at the Down State Correctional Center, he's
been there for almost two years.  My big brother got fifteen to twenty
on a "possession with intent to dispute".  It was his second offense
and the judge threw the book at him.  Eddie wasn't just my older
brother, he was also my best friend and he was a lot more street wise
than I was.  I needed his advice.

Eddie looked terrible, he always did.  Prison was killing him and it
showed.  We exchanged what pleasantries we could between the plexiglas
wall.  We were both the only family the other had and I usually spent
the time trying to cheer him up but not today.  I guess he could tell
by the way I was acting, he knew something was wrong.  I told him
about the girl and the pending rape charge.  He didn't hold his
punches.  

"Run Bobby.  Run as fast as you can, don't let them catch you!"

"You don't know what prison is like.  You don't want to know!"  I gave
him a stupid look.  "Yeah, you're not too smart are you kid?  They'll
get'ya sooner or later."  

I told him about the all the lawyer shit during the past couple
months.  I left out Murray's sick tactics.  

"Do anything you have to bro, just don't come here."  He was serious
and I listened closely.  

"Did you know your brother's a cock sucker, kid?"  

"What the hell are you talking about?"  I asked him.   

"Kid, your big brother sucks cock so he won't get beat up."  He let
that sink in for a few seconds.

"Listen.  The first year I was here I got raped a half dozed times and
beat-up a whole lot more times than I can remember.  And you know
what?  Nobody fucken cared!"  He looked down. 

"I got someone to protect me now.  He doesn't let anyone else pick on
me."  He looked me in the eye and gave me a sad smile.  

"All I have to do suck his dick and let him fuck me whenever he
wants."

This was Eddie my big brother talking, he was always a tough guy.
Eddie wouldn't suck anyone's dick!

"Sometimes he tells me to suck his friends dick, and I do it." 

"Sometimes he bets a blowjob in a poker game.  If he loses, I do it."

"That's the way it is in prison, it's not homo stuff, it's just the
way things are.  Everyone here finds a way to survive, or they don't."

This wasn't the brother I knew.  I didn't tell him of Murray's
proposal.  

"Eddie, would you let them cut your balls off, I mean, if it would get
you out'a here? 

He wasn't the least bit curious about the question.  I guess he
thought I was trying to ask him how bad prison really was.  He
volunteered it himself, I knew he was being honest. 

"Kid, I'd let them cut off my balls and my dick!  Shit!  I'd cut'em
off myself if I thought it would get me out of this hellhole.  Time
served, dicks sucked and balls gone, just let me out! .....  I'd do it
in a fucken second!"

We spent the rest of the time talking but not listening.  We both had
our own problems to deal with.

As I was leaving he told me "Don't send me any postcards.  They'll be
looking for that shit!  Good luck bro." 

That night I called Van Horn at her home and asked her if she had
heard anything from Ms. Murray.   The answer was no.  I think I was a
bit out of it, from lack of sleep probably, I told Van Horn to contact
Murray and tell her "I would do anything to end this".  I wanted to
see just how far they wanted to take this thing. "Tell'em I'd even
have the operation if that's what they want!"  Van Horn reminded me
that they had already rejected Murray's vasectomy idea.  "Tell them I
would be willing to have the "big" operation if that's what it would
take.  See if they're serious.  See what they say!"  Van Horn asked me
"are you really willing to be castrated?"  "I don't know." I said.
Van Horn refused to do it.  I had to remind her I was the client and
it was my life we we're talking about.  I think she did it out of
curiosity more than anything else.

Murray said it was crazy.  She said it was sick.  She said she would
ask her client.  

She called the next day and said it was deal.  Our little game of
bluff and counter-bluff found a momentum of its own.  My layer and I
were just along for the ride.

Murray called again the following day and said there were problems.
Minor details that they would insist upon.  "Nothing major."

This went on for a week.  Each time she came back she upped the ante
just a bit.  Murray was shrewd, she didn't make any big moves.  It was
all very incremental.

And now Van Horn was making a last ditch attempt to talk me out of it.  

She knew I didn't have a chance in court. Gail Summers knew I didn't
have a chance.  I knew I didn't have a chance.  It's the way these
things are handled today.  The accused must always be guilty or the
whole premise is wrong.  My lawyer was willing to have me to spend the
next twenty years of my life in hell so she can play her important
role in this sick society.  The fact that I didn't do anything wrong
didn't matter to her or anyone else.  It didn't seem to be an issue.
At the beginning of this whole thing I asked her to look me in the eye
and tell me the truth will prevail.  She couldn't do it.

"I have to be brutally honest with you."  Van Horn said, "Considering
the absence of tangible evidence, you will almost certainly be
convicted.  It'll be your word against hers and the sympathy and the
law will be on her side.  The prosecutor doesn't have to prove you
raped her, that's the assumption.  All that they have to prove is that
you where there.  We on the other hand will have to prove you didn't
do something, and that's extremely difficult.  A few coached tears on
the witness stand and you become the devil incarnate.  Your own sister
would gladly put the rope around your neck. Understand Robert,  any
female can ruin the life of any man  she wants.  All she has to do is
scream and point!  That's the way it is these days,  jurisprudence in
these matters has seemed to have taken a back seat to the political
concerns. You probably would get a lengthy sentence, that's the norm
these days.  But, we both know that the real time served would be more
like ten years, fifteen tops.  Please Robert, lets talk to the
District Attorney."

"Why?  I'm not guilty.  Will she try to prove that?"

"It's a prosecutors job to fill the governments prisons and coffers!
That's how their success is measured.   It's nothing personal.  What
I'm trying to make you understand is that justice is not a matter of
guilt or innocence.  It's not even a matter of right or wrong.
Justice is what ever the law says it is, and  the law today is in the
possession of zealots, it's written to serve them.    Anyone without
money or influence had better realize this for their own good."

She shuffled some papers around.

"I know the District Attorney.  She's a very hard women, but I think
we can make some kind of deal with her."

"Why can't we tell her what Summers and her lawyer wants to do to me.
That's against the law, isn't it?  They would be in a whole lot of
trouble, right?" I added.

"Listen to me Robert!  Nowadays it's effectively legal for a woman to
murder a man,  ..........  especially if it's her husband.  All they
have to do is say it was for revenge.  Powerful groups  promote their
own agendas by defending them.  That's why politicians all over the
country are tripping over themselves to champion these killers.  It's
seen as smart politics.  Now do you really think they would be charged
with anything?"

"Don't be absurd!" she answered for me. 

"The D.A. won't care Robert.  She's really a politician, which means
she's as much a captive of the situation as you are.  She has to
answer to her constituency, and it's not the public.  Aspiring judges
don't provoke their own power base, no matter what principles are
involved."

I really was stupid.  I needed everything spelled out for me.

"You want me to trust someone who would send an innocent man to jail
or stand by while he's butchered for something he didn't do, just so
she can become a judge?  I thought there was some place where sanity
always prevailed, somewhere the idea of  truth and justice is taken
seriously."

I tried to not let on that I was pretty close to losing it.  This
wasn't really going to happen, was it?  Van Horn had always gotten me
out of these messes before.


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