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From: ArtaDeux@aol.com
Subject: {NEW}Kristianna's Rape<*>(9/?)(MF,teen,nc oral,rape,violence)
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The following work contains sexually explicit language and may contain graphic
descriptions of various sex acts. If you are not 18 years of age, or this
sort of thing is prohibitted in your town, city, county, state, country,
province, or erotica is offensive to you, STOP READING.
I, the author give permission for this work to be posted and archived on ASSM
and ASS, according to their standards and welcome reviewer's (Celestial and
Annex) comments. This work may not be posted to any pay sites or reproduced
for profit, other than for the author's own monetary benefit. If you have a
personal comment, please feel free to e-mail me at 'Art_aDeux@AOL.com'. I
will only respond to nice people so don't bother e-mailing me if you're going
to be a jerk.
Copyright 1999 Art_aDeux@AOL.com (Sasha)
One more time, just in case you missed it in the subject line, or the
following title isn't telling enough, this story contains graphic descriptions
of rape. If this is offensive to you, PLEASE stop reading. The author does
NOT endorse forced sex of any kind. These are words and ideas and should
remain so. Do not take the fact that I write about such scenarios as approval
on my part for what is described to take place in reality.
The Taking of Kristianna
(Another stolen title)
It was pretty close to my thirteenth birthday when I was finally well enough
to go back to school. Private school again at Lila's behest and expense. I
was innundated with overdue homework and spent a fair amount of time catching
up. I dated a cute guy from Yugoslavia for a while. Vlado. (Short for
Vladimir Zerivitza. Don't even try and prounounce that unless you're from
some small Slavic country, formerly a part of the former Soviet Union. I'm
not sure of the spelling except for the 'z', but the name still rolls off my
tongue.) We broke up after a few dates. I guess it just wasn't cool to be a
junior dating a freshman. No matter how big her tits were. I wasn't too
bothered. His liking for rock music, Loverboy in particular was starting to
annoy me. And when he showed up for a date in red leather pants, well, that
was it for me.
My birthday came and went, and February, and already short month, disappeared
into March. I went out with a cute guy from Mexico, Robert V. We kissed and
held hands when the teachers weren't looking and sat next to each other
faithfully each morning for chapel. The few dates we had were accompanied by
his brother, a freshman like myself.
The only date we had alone was pretty telling. After seeing a matinee on
Sunday, we went to a quiet place to make out. I reached down between us to
rub his dick through his jeans and he just about went nuts.
I kept hold of him as he hissed at me "Good girls, godly girls don't do that
sort of thing!", all the while grinding his hips and cock against my hand.
His dick jumped and then throbbed as he came, pumping semen into his underwear
and soaking the front of his pants.
We dated 'in name only' after that and my eyes turned elsewhere for
stimulation. I got my fill when I discovered Robert M. Football star
extrodinairre. Six foot one inches of dark skin and rippling muscles. I
fouled up more than a few notes during band practice while I watched him train
on the sidelines. I wasn't the only one either, since the entire
clarinet/flute section turned to the left into the fence instead of the right
while watching him do push ups one day.
He knew his effect and laughed at us good naturedly each time. Favoring some
of us with a smile. When he started waiting for me after band practice I was
the envy of most of the girls. Freshman to senior. When a bad-boy's at
stake, well, it's every girl for herself and the winner eventually gets the
kudos.
I took a few hits from some petty girls about my still going with Bobby V.,
but most knew that he and I hadn't dated really in some weeks and the rest
knew that Robert M. and I didn't date. Heck, all we did was chat after
school. I still held Bobby's hand during chapel and didn't really think much
of my other 'relationship' other than as a friendship. I finally told Bobby
that I was breaking up with him and he cried. I don't know why. Maybe he
felt guilty. I doubt it was love.
A couple of days later, after cross country practice, I leisurely took my
shower and changed into light blue sweat pants, white tee-shirt, and matching
pull-over sweatshirt. My cheeks warmed as I thought for the thousandth time
about Robert M.'s tight ass and what it would be like to kiss his full mouth
and run my hands across his tightly curled hair. Robert was of
African/American and Hawiaan decent and his dark good looks facinated me. My
heart did it's now familiar 'ka-thunk' and the heat that had warmed my face
shifted lower to my pelvis as I imagined him touching me.
The courtyard was devoid of people as I walked to the front of the school, so
when Robert approached me, I nearly came out of my skin.
"Hi Kris!" he called as my heart hammered and I concentrated on not
hyperventilating right there in front of him.
"Your grandmother isn't here yet, do you need a ride home?" he asked, walking
with me in the direction of the payphone.
"No, but thank you for asking Robert, I just have to call her and she'll be
here."
I slid the coins in the slot as he stood next to me now, closer than ever
before. His arm slid around my shoulders as I dialed the phone number. My
heart began to hammer again, this time not in fear but excitement.
"Just tell her you have a ride home, and I'll take you there," he said
quietly, toying with my braided hair.
I swallowed hard and mumbled something of the sort to Lila who, amazingly,
agreed. I hung up the phone and his lips touched mine for the first time. A
sweet kiss that made me hot and wet deep inside and long for more of the same.
I threw my clarinet case and gym bag into the back of his primer grey van and
we were off. The drive to my house was at least 20 minutes, whether you took
Interstate 80, or went on the town roads through the many little towns that
make up the Sacramento area. He took the back way, saying that traffic was
bad on the freeway. During stops at lights he would lean over and kiss me and
tell me how pretty I was. I think I glowed. From sexual tension as much as
being pleased by his compliments. At Madison Avenue and Sunrise Blvd. he
turned left, going past the River City Bank and turning suddenly into the
parking lot of the Sunrise Mall.
"We still have a little time before you have to get home," he said as he
parked the van half-way between Sears and the street, "Let's get to know each
other better, okay?"
I looked around. He'd parked strategically so that the van was away from all
of the other cars. There would be no one to disturb us.
"I don't think this is such a good idea Robert," I said just a little shakily,
the sexual tension disolving into something else.
He turned the motor off and just sat smiling at me.
"What are you scared of Kris?" he asked. "I really like you, I thought you
liked me too."
I nodded, still uncomfortable with the situation. He stood then and moved
into the rear part of the van and sat down.
"Why don't you come here and sit with me?" he said, motioning to the carpeted
floor.
He smiled again and it was Robert. The cute guy from school who I was dying
for a date with. I joined him. We talked about Mrs. Brown, the odd English
teacher, the current school schedule, plans for break, then he kissed me.
He leaned forward and as his lips captured mine, he used his weight to press
me back onto the floor. A warning bell sounded dully in the back of my head,
but his kiss was delicious. It had been months since I'd kissed someone I
liked and many months since anyone had kissed me with any expertise. My mouth
opened and allowed his tongue entry while my arms twined around his neck.
His body pressed me down further into the van floor and I was aware again of
how big he really was. And how small I was in comparison. At thirteen years
of age, I hadn't reached my full height of 5'8", I was only pushing 5'3" and
my weight was comesurate. I was the lightest runner on the team at 98 pounds.
His left hand found my breast and I squirmed a little as he squeezed it hard.
"Stop, you're hurting me", I said against his mouth.
In response to my request, he eased up a little, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to
hurt you, why don't you take your sweatshirt off?"
I shook my head a little and he squeezed my breast again, this time harder,
and ground his mouth down onto mine. Fear replaced any sexual desire I might
have had. He got up and straddled me at the waist, grabbing my sweatshirt
and hoisting it over my head. My arms were trapped in it and I couldn't see
as he again roughly fondled my breasts, this time through my tee-shirt. The
nipples stood at attention despite my fear and that seemed to encourage him.
He let go of my sweatshirt and used both hands, pinching and kneading my tits.
I struggled a little and got my head free of the suffocating blue fabric, then
my hands.
Robert's face leered above me.
"I know what you want Krissy," he said, "Little Prissy Krissy wants a cock!
Krissy's been looking at me all spring now, her little panties all wet,
thinking about my hard dick banging her tight pussy, isn't that right?" he
rudely queried.
The fear I had felt now burgeoned into outright terror. Despite messing
around with Chris of my own volition, and Fred's naughty games, I was a
virgin. Chris and I had never completed what we had started and Fred
had never even worked a finger past my hymen. I was saving it for someone
special. I had thought that maybe it was Robert, after we'd been dating a
while, but I knew that idea was dead. He wasn't as special as I had thought.
I tried to wriggle out from beneath him, but that didn't work, he must have
weighed 180 pounds to my 98 easily. His hands worked down to the waistband of
my sweatpants and he had to shift a little to pull them to my knees. I moved
suddenly and caught him off balance, he wasn't dislodged however and the slap
he delivered to the side of my head made my ears ring.
"Oh god, I'm sorry!" he said almost meaning it, "I hope I didn't leave a
mark!"
My pants were around bunched around my ankles with my shoes still on. He
began to unbotton his Levi's jeans with one hand while the other caressed my
stinging cheek. Tears began to slide onto my face as I realized my mistake
way too late in the game. He reached down and slid them from his body,
revealing a thick hard cock at least 8 inches in length, surrounded by tightly
curled pubic hair.
The next article of clothing shed was mine. Taking hold of my tee-shirt at
the neckline, he pulled hard, tearing it in two and tossing it into the
corner. His eyes widened at my full breasts, confined by a pretty lace
underwire.
"Oooohhh, what have we here?" he asked lustfully, "Such lovely huge titties
for such a little girl, huh little Krissy?"
He leaned forward and began to lathe his tongue across the tops.
The sensation was heady and I was momentarily distracted from the gravity of
the situation I was in. The pain of the bite he delivered to my left breast
quickly brought me back. The right breast was treated to a bruising pinch and
then he straightened up, focusing his attention on the front hook closure of
my bra. It easily gave way and he went back to his rather vicious activities,
alternately sucking and licking the sensitive nipples then biting and
pinching, leaving deep red marks that in some places were already deepening
into purple.
"Please stop this Robert," I begged, "I don't want our first time to be like
this."
My pleas fell on deaf ears as he continued to bite and pinch his way down my
torso.
"Shut up bitch, you know you want me to fuck your cunt," he snarled, pausing
just breifly at my panties. "You actually ARE a cunt", he said as he lowered
his head and bit down hard on my cotton covered crotch.
I screamed. This was nothing like what Chris or Fred had done.
"Shut up!" he hissed.
To punctuate his thought bunched his fist and slammed it into my stomach. The
air left my lungs in a painful rush and I idley wondered if it would bother
coming back. I gasped and mentally counted off the seconds, "One-one
thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand", the announcer in my head
reached thirty as some air found it's way back into my body.
My panties lay in shreds and Robert alternately pinched and bit at my thighs
and now naked pussy. I screamed again and he grabbed my clitoris between his
thumb and forefinger and squeezed so hard I thought I would throw up from the
pain.
"No one's going to hear you Prissy Krissy," he laughed as he lowered his head
and began to lick my now painfully throbbing clit.
Wet with his spit, he again covered me with his body. He tried to kiss me but
I turned away. Kissing is reserved for those you love and he didn't qualify.
Not anymore anyway. I bucked against him in an effort to gain an advantage
but was quickly stilled when he used one hand to pin both of my arms to the
floor above my head. With the other he held my face while he obtained the
kiss I'd denied him.
I gagged at his tongue now and tried to bite him back. He thrust his full
weight on me, pinning me effectively without the use of his hands and began to
jab me between the ribs hard, then, forming fists, he continued to assault my
upper body until I was subdued. Breathless and in pain from his beating, I
lay motionless. Maybe he'd stop if I didn't do anything.
Not so. He pushed my thighs apart and knelt between them. I watched as he
spit in his hand, then rubbed his dick to lubricate it. He lunged forward
onto me and I felt the head of his uncircumcised cock probe my tender pussy,
then lower as he used his hand to guide it to my entrance.
"Please, don't," I whispered one last time.
Wet from his saliva, his dick pushed easily past my outer lips, then with more
difficulty he began to work his hips to get into me.
"Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it! You cunt! You're really a fucking virgin!"
Robert shouted down at me. "Oh, fuck yeah bitch!" he exulted as the head of
his cock met my virgin barrier.
He pulled back a bit, then lunged forward, burying himself into me.
I thought I heard a tearing noise, but that isn't right, I felt it. Somewhere
in the middle of my being. I'm not even sure if it was a physical thing or
not. I stopped sobbing and the tears just slid from my eyes as he pumped into
me over and over again. The searing pain that attended the first thrust
diminished with succeeding thrusts of his cock until all that was left was a
hot ache that had nothing to do with sexual tension or pleasure at all. He
moaned and sweated above me and I thanked God that I hadn't had lunch, or else
I'd be retching all over the place. I wondered idley if that wouldn't get me
dead possibly. He tensed and I felt the head of his dick swell. Then it
throbbed as he pumped his jism into me, grunting and sobbing all the while.
He rolled off of me and I lay there. Numb.
The sensation of liquid oozing from my body stirred me and I sat up, quickly
fastening my bra. I grabbed my sweatshirt and pulled it over my head, looking
just once at the tattered remains of my white tee-shirt, wadded into the
corner of the van. With my right hand I gently explored my aching nether
regions. I held my hand to the light and saw it was covered with blood. I
wiped it on his pants when I was sure he wasn't looking then pulled my sweats
up and crossed my arms on my chest.
"Take me home," I said as quietly and calmly as I could. "I'm already late
and Lila will be wondering where I am."
He nodded and dressed quickly, not noticing the smeared handprint of blood and
cumm that I'd left on the rear pocket of his jeans. I waited in the front of
the van and he quickly joined me. The ride home took maybe ten minutes. All
of which was spent in unrelenting silence. Broken only when we arrived at my
house.
"You won't tell anyone will you Kris?" Robert quietly said, "I wouldn't want
you to get hurt."
I nodded and opened the door, grabbing my clarinet case and duffle bag as I
went. I didn't say good-bye.
I rang the doorbell to my own home. Lila never gave anyone a key to the
house. Not even if they lived there. I sometimes wondered what my great-
grandfather had to have done to get his key. She answered the door with her
typical tight-faced frown.
"Where have you been? It's an hour past when you should have gotten home.
The ride from school only takes twenty minutes."
Blah, blah, blah. I pasted a smile on my face.
"What were you doing with that boy anyway? Up to no good I'm sure. What were
you doing with him for an hour in that van?" She seemed to actually spit the
word van.
It was my fault.
Even though it wasn't, it was still my fault. I had let myself go with
Robert. Had made a judgement that was stupid. I had asked for 'IT'. I was a
whore. I slut. Just like my mother. Always looking for the next boy like a
bitch in heat. If I told her, she'd kill me. Oh, maybe not right there,
although that was an option as far as I was concerned, but she would live to
see my demise. And be the cause of it. I made the choice.
"We just ran into Jenny and Vivian and their parents asked us to join them at
the Velvet Creamery, I should have called, I'm sorry."
She stood back, appeased for the moment. I made the choice.
"You're right you should have called, I was worried, you know better than
that. Did you let that boy bring you home all alone?"
Blah, blah, blah.
"No Grandma! Of course not! It's a van," I said sheepishly, like I hated to
point it out to her, "There aren't any windows in back so you couldn't see the
girls."
I made the choice. To live. To not tell. To lie. To lie to myself for
years. Many years.
When I went to the bathroom to clean myself up, I ignored the bruises on my
thighs. When I used the kleenex to wipe the blood and semen from my aching
pussy and flushed it down the toilet, I told myself that I had made the
choice. I had given of myself freely. Nevermind the slightly swollen eyes.
Eyes that shied away from even my own examination in the mirror. Nevermind
the ribs that hurt when I took in a breath. I made the choice to not be like
my mother. In her eyes. In Lila's twisted fucking eyes.
DInner was quiet and I ate little. I couldn't take a shower without arousing
suspicion. I'd already had one after practice right? No need. I went to bed
that night, in a long sleeved shirt that hid the purple bite marks that marred
my arms and torso. I pulled on a pair of sweat pants to hide the bruises on
my legs. As I lay there, listening to the sounds of the train yard in the
distance a few tears slipped from my eyes. An afterthought maybe. More
likely the beginning of an understanding of betrayal.
Betrayal of self.
I made a choice.
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