Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage
From: an156791@anon.penet.fi (Lacey)
X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.bondage
Organization: Anonymous contact service
Reply-To: an156791@anon.penet.fi
Date: Mon, 12 Dec 1994 17:36:40 UTC
Subject: The Shadows: fantasy, m/f non-cons rape
Lines: 198
 
 
This is a fantasy.   Please regard it as such.
Respectfully submitted by Lacey.
Comments are welcome.   ChudWahs are not.
 
********************************************************************************
 
                                    The Shadows
 
     Feeling restless and bored, she decided she would attend the party being
hosted by one of her acquaintances at work after all.  Her ex-lover, and good
riddance, she thought, had broken off the relationship a month or so before,
stating "You're just too weird for me."  Well, good-bye and good luck.  Still,
it wasn't much fun going to movies and eating dinner alone all the time, not
to mention sleeping alone.  She sighed lightly, and got ready to go.
 
     She had a nice hot shower and carefully fixed her hair and makeup
(rather than the soap, comb and go she generally employed).  "What the
hell", she thought, and pulled on a pair of thigh-high stockings with lacy
tops, put on her tight, fancy, front-opening bra, and donned a short dress
over only that.  It felt deliciously wicked to skip her panties, and she
found herself becoming aroused as she finished her dressing with a pair
of heels higher than were truly comfortable.  Walking to the door, she felt
a bit unbalanced, unsafe, but that was okay.  She had been craving a little
excitement, a small thrill, and if dressing this way gave it, she would do it.
Her ex- ("What *was* his name?", she kidded herself) didn't approve of her
fondness for dressing like this, certainly not in public.  Spoil-sport.  It wasn't
far to the party, a nice stroll, really, through a park nearby, and she decided
to walk.
 
     The party was fun enough, a few people she knew from work, many
more she didn't know.  She chatted, nibbled and sipped along, happy to be
out and socializing, but still casting an eye around, looking for someone who
might be worth more than a quick flirt.  No one caught her eye, although she
caught a few, with her lively smile, intelligent eyes, long hair and long legs.
No one, that is, until, quite late in the evening a pair of men came in.  One,
she knew from work.  A nice-enough guy, casually friendly but fairly
quiet.  His friend, however, was something else again.  Just her type, she
thought.  Tall, with a strong, rugged, quiet face.  A sense of power held in
leash, a mind and a will that would not suffer fools gladly.  He didn't seem to
notice her, though, and she didn't feel quite up to provoking an interchange.
As the party began to wind down, she decided that he was not going to
notice, and, gathering up her things and bidding good night to her hosts,
she left.
 
She had walked for about a block when she realized she was being followed.
She quickened her steps, feeling awkward and hampered in her heels.  The
shortest way home, she realized, was through the park.  The dark, shadowy,
deserted park.  No, that won't do, she thought, as she walked even more
quickly.  What to do?  She glanced behind her, and saw no one.  Still, she
was sure she heard footsteps, almost echoing hers, although moving
a bit more rapidly, as she paced along.
 
What to do?  She looked around, hoping for an open store, some people
on the street, something to give her a chance, a safe place to stop.  Why
was she so sure the man (oh, she was sure it was a man) was following
her?  Could it be the residue of the dark dreams she had, the lurid fantasies
she loved and feared?   She shivered, and walked faster still, but the foot-
steps seemed to be drawing closer.  She had reached the park entrance,
and was going to hurry past, into another residential area, when she
suddenly felt a strong hand on her arm.
 
"Not a noise, now.  This way."  She was being propelled into that park she
knew she should avoid.  She looked behind her to see him.  It was that
one, the man from the party.  Was she surprised?  Perhaps not really.  He
looked very serious, very purposeful.  She shuddered.  At her friend's
home he had looked attractive, almost worth pursuing.  Now he looked
menacing, frightening.   Should she speak?  No noise, he had said.
Would a quiet question anger him?  She knew she didn't want to do that.
She would have been willing, even eager, to get to know him better if he
had spoken at the party, but here in the dark, in this lonely place, she
was afraid.  He propelled her further into the park, up a side path that
she knew went nowhere, into a grove of trees close to the center of the
park, with no lights, no houses near by, no rescue or sanctuary.
 
He pushed her, face first, up against a tree.  His hand ran quickly up
under her skirt, up to her ass.  "No panties?  Naughty girl.  What were
you thinking of tonight?", and he chuckled as he kneaded her bare
buttock.  She felt so frightened, she could barely squeak.  "What, what
are you...what do you want?" she managed to stammer out.  "Quiet,
slut.  You know what I want." he rapped out.  He suddenly, forcefully,
shoved two fingers into her, one in front, one behind.  She nearly
screamed from the shock.   He continued to move his hand inside her,
rubbing and probing, as she struggled.  She thought about crying out,
but she knew that unless someone were to be walking through the
park, no one would hear her.  She was afraid, then, of what her
screaming might do to this man who was using her so rudely.
 
"Good girl.  You'll be very quiet, won't you?"  She nodded, afraid to
speak at all.  He removed his hand from her ass, only to began
spanking her, hard.   "This is why you didn't wear your panties,
isn't it?" he questioned.  "Isn't it?"   She didn't know what to say.
Had she been hoping for a spanking?  Maybe, she did like them,
but certainly not like this, in the shadows, with a man whose name
she didn't know, not like this.  "no", she finally whispered.
 
"Liar.  You're lying to me."  The menace in his voice frightened her.
He spun her around by her shoulders, and facilely tripped her,
her shoes making her so unsteady.  She landed hard, on her back,
and he quickly dropped to sit astride her chest.  He began to
slap her face.  Not quickly, no.  With deliberation, staring into her
eyes, aiming carefully first at one cheek, then at the other.  She
was terrified.  When she attempted to avert her eyes, unwilling
to face what she saw in his, he grabbed her chin and bent until
their noses were nearly touching.  "Look at me.  Look at me, slut.
I know you.  I know what you want, what you dream about, alone
in your bed at night.   I'll bet you despise those men, the ones
that follow you around, drooling.  You can wind them around your
fingers, and you don't want to.  I know.  You want a man who can
tell you what to do.  You need a man whose desire makes you
feel afraid, unsure.  Well, my desires are something you'd be
right to be frightened of.  And now, you can't escape them."
 
She believed him.  He seemed huge, unbelievably strong.  He
was slapping her again, and she was whimpering, too scared
to scream.   It hurt, but it wasn't the pain that was paralyzing
her.  It was fear, not knowing what he would do, what she might
do that would provoke him beyond limits.
 
"Good", he hissed.  "You believe me.  I'm glad I don't have to
convince you that I'm serious.  Be very still, or be very sorry.
Your choice.  I don't care which you pick."  He got off her chest,
and knelt beside her.  He pushed up the dress, past her waist,
and began to finger her cunt.  "You're wet.  You are a slut."
Was he smiling?  She was afraid to look.  His fingers became more
insistent, more invasive.  He was rubbing inside her now, feeling
for those magical spots that she knew would make her moan, no
matter whether she wanted to or not.  He found one.  She moaned.
Her hips rocked up involuntarily.  "Oh, little cunt.  Do you want me
to stop?"   She looked at him.  Did she?
 
She couldn't speak.  She didn't know how to answer.  His fingers
inside her felt awful, unbearable, and yet she was excited.  "Yes?
No?  What's the truth here, girl?", he continued to rub into her,
staring into her eyes.  "You like the way this feels, you do."
Abruptly he withdrew his hand.  "How about this, do you like it
too?" he asked, as he grabbed one of her nipples through her
soft dress and bra, and twisted it.  She squeaked again.  Why
couldn't she scream?  Why couldn't she at least try to jump up,
try to run?  The force he was using overwhelmed her.  She tried
again to stammer out a protest, a plea.  No use.
 
"Spread your legs for me, little one."  He insinuated himself
between her knees.  She struggled to close her legs, to deny him
access to her, but he was so strong.  He unzipped his pants.  "I'm
hard", he said.  "I'm going to take you.  Can you stop me?"  She
beat at his arms, tried for his face.  He grabbed her wrists, and
held them down, pinned against the ground.  She twisted, shifted,
trying to avoid his searching, trying to prevent what she knew
was coming.  He entered her quickly, roughly.  It wasn't hard to
do, she was wet despite herself.  "Noooo", she howled.  The sound
was primal, undeniable, but he ignored her.  He bent over her,
his face close to hers, his breath hot and insistent in her ear.
 
He held still, and stared into her eyes, until he became her whole
world.  He whispered, "Don't move.  At all.  Or I will hurt you, beat you
until you are sobbing and begging.  You decide."  And he began to
move in her, now quickly and shallow, now slow and deep, then with
full, hard, rapid thrusts.   And she lay still.  She was afraid to even
breathe.  She lay under him, and let him use her.  He teased at her,
pushing in as far as he could and holding there, in a way that felt
almost insulting, as though he were saying with his cock, "I own you.
You have no choice.  You can't turn me out, you have to feel this, your will
doesn't matter."  She felt him deep inside her, not just in her body, but in
her mind.  No escape.  No escape.  She almost began to struggle at him,
to try to fight him off, as she had before, then she froze.  Oh, that would
get her beaten.  Oh, no, she would take him, take this, no matter what.
 
And he smiled down on her, from above her, as he held her captive on his
dick, taking what he wanted from her.   To her horror, her shame, she
began to enjoy it.   She felt herself open to him.  She moaned again, her
body rising to meet his, encouraging his motion, taking pleasure from
it.   "Slut.  You like it."  He pulled out of her, leaving her panting, shocked
at herself, shocked at his withdrawal.  He quickly straddled her legs,
took her by the shoulder, and rolled her over.  "How about this, girl?
Do you like this too?", and he pushed into her ass.  He was big, it hurt.
She screamed again, wordlessly, face pressed down into the dirt as
he held her down, probing her.  He pumped into her slowly.  She knew
he was taking his time, enjoying her pain, her misery, wanting to prolong
his pleasure, denying hers.  It seemed to last forever.  She hated it.  She
hated him.  She wanted to escape, but she couldn't move.  He held her
down, he used her to his own satisfaction.  As he stroked into her, he
whispered harshly into her ear, telling her how nasty she was, how good
she felt to him, how much he loved doing this to her.   She was crying
now, hopelessly, helplessly.   Finally, finally, he came, holding himself
deep inside her, draining his lust, his energy into her.
 
He rose and fastened his clothes, looking down at her lying in the
dirt.  "I'm sure I'll see you again, sweet thing."  He laughed to himself
as he left her there.
 
 
 
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