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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o This part of my collection offers a very wide variety of stories. o
o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also from o
o alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order to this o
o section of my collection, other than offering them to you in alpha- o
o betical directories. o
o I don’t believe in categorizing things. "I don’t want to be typed o
o therefore I don’t type things myself." I think it’s a lot more fun to o
o browse around and find 'little' surprises, and topics that you might o
o not have even thought of looking for. I hope you enjoy your time among o
o Kristen’s book shelf directories. o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult entertainment o
o and should not be read by minors. Thank you, Kristen Becker o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Archive-name: Violent/avril.txt
Archive-author: Sam Smith
Archive-title: Avril
[ Expect S & M, Adult Hetro, non-consensual(?) ]
Avril
She walked into the park with the unconcern of someone who has
forgotten the reason behind their actions. The trees masked the street
lights, and almost immediately she could hardly see the ground infront
of her. She strode on, eying the shadows worriedly but more intent on
plans for the weekend ahead.
Avril was a pretty girl; five feet six tall; slim with long fair hair.
She wore a short coat over her knee length woollen skirt, her cotton
blouse and her light cardigan. It had been five weeks ago that she had
taken to walking home through the park. At the time it had been an
exciting decision. She was still sure that she was right, but she no
longer expected anything.
Her life was boring, she wanted some exitement, some danger. her rather
monotonous love life was the other stimulus. No matter how many
boyfriends she had she still felt stiffled, claustrophobic. This was
her escape: she would get herself raped.
Something thudded into the side of her face. She staggered and her bag
was ripped from her shoulder. She tried to hold onto it and a steam
train hit her in the stomach. As she collapsed to the floor a foot
exploded into her face. She must have released the bag because there
were running footsteps and then silence. She staggered to her feet and
promptly vomited.
She stumbled into the lavatories. They stank of urine and there were
noxious substances smeared on the wall. She dragged herelf to a
cleanish basin and looked into the mirror. Blood caked her nose, mouth
and the hair over her left temple. Her nose was twice its normal size
and a deep purple brusing was already evident. She felt her nose,
wincing at the pain. It did not seem to be broken. She ran some cold
water and started to clean up the mess.
She lived by herself, so there was no one to ask any awkward questions,
and there had been nothing in the bag to report stolen. All of her
cards and keys were in an inside pocket of her coat. There had been a
little money and her makeup, but nothing she would miss. By Monday most
of the damage had healed. There was a little yellow colour still
evident, but nothing makeup would not cover. No one at work noticed
anything strange.
So she came to be standing at the entrance to the park again that
night. She stood for several minutes, her temple sending heavy notes of
pain, as if to remind her what it ment. Then she entered the park. Now
she was fully aware of her danger and she searched all the shadows
fearfully. After what seemed an age she reached the bench which marked
the mid point of the path, and on the bench, spread randomly around,
were the contents of her handbag. The bag itself lay under the bench.
She sat down and re-packed the bag. She had started down the path
before she realised what else was missing, apart from the money. The
shock almost caused her the pee in her pants. There had been a set of
photos, taken of her last holiday in Spain. They had been taken by her
boyfriend and most of them featured her, in a skimpy bikini, playing up
to the camera. Somewhere to her left a twig broke. She started to run,
not stopping until she was safely home, leaning on the closed door and
panting heavily.
For a long time she left the park alone. Her life ground on its
monotonous way. In desperation she went back to the park, nothing
happened. Then, one night, as she reached the bench, someone moved out
of the bushes and stood right up against her as he said "Have you got
the time please?" His voice was rough and ugly and a disgusting stench
of BO assailed Avril's nostrils. This time her bladder failed her and
proceeded to empty itself. She struggled to regain her composure,
hoping that the man could not hear the trickling sound.
"Urgh, Half past five." She replied. He grunted and walked past. She
could feel twin streams of warm fluid bubling out of her knickers and
running down her legs, spiraling round her thighs, te backs of hjer
knees and over her calfs, filling her shoes and forming a puddle round
her feet. A breeze blew, and a dark stain appeared on the front of her
skirt. When she could continue walking the wind on her knickers was
very cold, and every step made a squelching noise. She reached the end
of the park and hurried through the streets, feeling everyone's eyes on
her. When she got home she found something in her pocket. It was a set
of photographs. As she sorted through them she realised that these were
the photographs that had been stolen, and that every one with her in
was missing. It was the end of the park. She would never go through
there again.
Eventualy she forgot how frightened she had been and when her boyfriend
proposed marriage she refused and went back to the park. Nothing
happened for several weeks.
The nights had drawn right in and the darkness was almost total where
the rhodedendron bushes overhung the path. She smelt the BO at the same
time as she felt a sharp pain in her right side. This time she kept a
tight hold on her bladder. "Hold it right there." said the voice. She
had already stopped walking. Her heart pounded and she tried to scream,
but nothing came out. "Now turn to your left and start walking. Don't
run or scream or it will be worse for you." She turned and ducked under
the bushes. The knife point left her side but the man was right behind
her. This was not a path, mearly a hole through the bushes and they
tore at her clothes, her legs and her face as she pushed through. She
started thinking of what was about to happen, she knew now that she had
been wrong; this was not what she wanted. She thought of the man, and
she vomited. As she wretched so her skirt was lifted and the point of
the knife pressed hard between her legs and run, painfully, up the
crevice between her buttocks. In her effort to avoid it she fell
forward, kneeling in her own puke. The man laughed a filthy, sadistic
laugh. "Frightened?" He asked, "good." A powerfull hand grasped her
upper arm and flung her along the path. "Move."
After some time she emerged into an open area, totaly enclosed by the
bushes. The ground was composed of wet leaf-mold. The man pushed her
into the middle of the clearing. She fell onto her face and crawled
away, staring up at him, terrified. There was a bright flash and Avril
realised that the man had a camera. Blinded she hid her eyes. He
chuckled.
"There is nowhere to go, only one exit from here. You will do as I say
or I will kill you." The voice was heavy and precise, Avril believed
every word. "Stand up." It said. Avril cowered lower. "I said stand
up." The man shouted, an evil snarl in his voice. Avril stood and
smoothed down her skirt, backing away. "Now you will strip." He said.
"Make it very interesting or I may get violent."
She started to strip, first the coat came off. Then she started to
unbutton the blouse. The camera flashed at intervals. With the cold
night air nipping at her breasts, hidden only by the lace bra, she
turned her atention to the skirt. As it dropped to the floor the camera
flashed again. She rolled down the stockings and kicked off her shoes.
The wet ground oozed between her toes. She paused before releasing the
bra. Her ample breasts hung free. Finaly she eased down the brief
knickers. Shaking with fear she stood before him, hiding what she could
with her hands.
"Come here." She shuffled over toward him. The lashing blow across the
face came as a total suprise. She fell to the floor. The mud cold on
her breasts and belly. "Now get dressed again." Said the voice,
enraged.
She stumbled to her feet and looked around for her clothes. Again the
camera flashed irregularly. Not before she was fully dressed did the
man speak again.
"Now try again. This time make it interesting." The snarl left a string
of threats hanging in the air.
Again she striped. This time she went slowly. She paused and posed, she
pouted at the camera, she ran her hands suggestivly over her body,she
rubbed her free breasts and licked the nipples. The cammera flashed
continuosly. Twice he stopped her while he changed the film. Then she
was naked again. Now she stood facing the cammera, her legs parted
slightly, tears streaming down her face.
"Now lie on the ground and spread your legs." The voice demanded.
She lay down, the mud squishing behind her, and pulled her legs apart.
Her cunt lay revealed pinkly, although closed. The cammera flashed.
"Spread your cunt." She inserted two fingers into her love slot and
pried it apart. Flash. He asked for another pose, and another. She
complied, sobbing quietly to herself.
He handed her a bra made of barbed wire and told her to wear it. She
did so. He then slapped each side once with a gloved hand. The pain
caused her to scream out. He waited until twin streams of blood were
established and started her posing again.
He told her to remove the bra and threw down a set of sex aids. At his
instructions she posed with each in turn. At one point she had three of
them, each inside different orifices.
Finaly no more instructions came. She lay on her stomach, crying
bitterly in pain and humiliation.
"Turn over." He towered above her, naked, the cammera around his neck
and a huge penis, stiff as a flagpole, threatening her. She wimpered
and crawled away. Then he was on her. Pulling her toward him. She
pulled her legs tight closed, but he levered them viciously apart. She
beat him with her fists, but he held her down with one hand and slapped
her repeatedly with the other. Then he lifted her bottom off the ground
and pulled her toward him. She pulled back and squirmed left and right
in insane, hysterical effort to be free. He was much too strong. Now
within her thighs, where she could not kick him he parted her cunt with
a pair of filthy thumbs and rubbed her clitoris, painfully hard. She
renewed her efforts to be free, but he held her easily in one hand as
he alternatly pinched breast and clit, taking a few more pictures in
the process. Then, as if tiring of this he parted the cunt again and
rammed the penis home. She screamed again, as much in outrage as in
pain, and struggled again, dimmly aware that she was increasing his
pleasure, but unable to lie still and let him have his way. For a
seeming eternity he pounded into her, tearing her skin in his fury. His
finger nails grinding into her back as he held her writhing body
against him. Then he shuddered and it was over. The penis was withdrawn
from her violated love tube. She lay, unmoving on the sodden ground.
Her knees drawn up protectivly. The cammera flashed three times, from
different directions. Then everything stopped. Avril lay there for many
minutes, weeping heavily, her body shaking with the sobs. Finaly she
rose and dressed. She could not find her knickers, but she managed
everything else. Still sobbing quietly she made her way back out of the
bushes and onto the path. As she stumbled home she could feel the
freezing air on her corrupted flesh, and the string of wetness as her
tormentor's semen dripped down her leg.
Two weeks later she recieved a parcel through the post. It was wrapped
carefully in brown paper. She took it into the lounge and carefully
opened it. As the paper fell aside she saw herself, lying on a bed of
leafmold, slit held apart with two fingers, her smile denied by the
tear-stained cheeks. Numbly she sorted through the other photographs.
They were all there, from beginning to end, from carefree, before she
had been stopped, through terrified, but fully clothed, to the blank
eyed vegetable that lay with legs tucked up, staring sightlessly into
the distance. It finished with a life size print, a close up of that
face, cheeks smudged with dirt and her own blood, skin deathly white,
eyes devoid of intelligence. She sat in the chair and stared at it for
hours. Then she went into the kitchen, arainged everything in an
ashtray and lit a match. The face lay there, glassy eyes staring up at
her. She gathered everything up again, and returned to the lounge.
Emptying a draw in the sideboard she placed them inside and locked it
shut. Another fortnight passed and she found her knickers. They were
carefully laid out on her own bed. She suddenly realised that her
tormenter had copied her keys.