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Archive name: daterape.txt (MMM/F, drugs, rp)
Authors name: Red Dragon (rdragon@ix.netcom.com)
Story title : Debbie's Date Rape

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
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Debbie's Date Rape (MMM/F, drugs, rp)
By Red Dragon (rdragon@ix.netcom.com)

***

The following is a true story told to me by a close 
friend from work. She has had quite an adventurous and 
sometimes painful sexual life. She shared this story 
with me as a reminder that although rape can be an 
exciting fantasy, when it actually happens to you, it's 
not the turn-on you might expect. Only the names have 
been changed... etc.

***

Back when I was younger, I had a fantasy about how it 
would feel to be taken forcibly by a group of men. I'm a 
petite blonde, 5'2" and 110 pounds. At the time of this 
story, I was 20 years old, and had experienced some good 
sex and a little great sex. I had a submissive streak in 
me, though, and my rape fantasy bubbled to the surface 
every once in a while. The story I'm about to tell is 
about how I came to be rid of that fantasy forever, and 
I'll tell it from my point of view, twenty years ago.

I was visiting my sister out in California, taking a 
break from both Junior College and work to come out and 
see the sights, and to get a first-hand look at the 
lifestyles in L.A.

I had been with a few men before, and was always eager 
for sex, even so much so that frequently I would test my 
partner's stamina and re-cycle time. This perceived need 
for more continuous stimulation was what drove me to 
think about getting gang-banged from time to time. What 
I didn't realize is how degrading and mechanical such an 
experience could be.

One night, I went out to a club not far from my sister's 
place. She had begged off coming with me, with an excuse 
about it being a weekday night, she said, "You're on 
vacation, so you can sleep in, so why not just go out by 
yourself?" It sounded like a practical idea at the time. 
But it was a Big Mistake.

I put on a bright red crepe dress, cut short above the 
knee with a pretty pleated skirt. It was nice and soft 
and fluid, and draped beautifully over my breasts and 
hips. I wore just pantyhose and a smooth bra underneath, 
since the material clung a bit and would show a panty 
line for sure. Even my sister said I was looking good.

Anyway, at the club, the action was great. Lots of guys 
looking over a lot fewer girls, good music, cheap drinks 
and a big dance floor, my kind of place. I had hardly 
sat down when I was approached for a dance, and when I 
returned I found that wannabe admirers delivered three 
different drinks to my spot. This was looking like a fun 
night.

A group of three handsome, obviously well-to-do guys 
took a big interest in me, and spent their time paying 
close attention, switching off dancing with me until I 
begged to sit and rest, and buying me more drinks than I 
could possibly consume. I kind of liked being the center 
of attention for three cute guys, and I teased them all 
a little with my talk and my hot dancing.

As the night wore on, it was obvious that these three 
guys were a team, and were going draw straws or 
something to see who had to leave and who got to stay 
with me. That was OK by me, since they were all fun to 
talk to and dance with, and they kept me busy with all 
of their attention.

Finally, it was last call and we were about to part and 
head our own ways, when the guy named Brad asked if I 
needed a ride or something. The club was only about six 
blocks from my sister's apartment, but I had walked over 
(no car) when it was still light out, and would now have 
to walk back in the dark, slightly tipsy. Getting a ride 
with them sounded safer than the alternative of walking 
back alone, so I said yes. Another Big Mistake.

We walked out together, and Brad and one of the other 
guys who's name was John led me, arm-in-arm, to their 
car. It was a four-door Beamer, red, and my third 
admirer Steve and John climbed in front, while Brad held 
the door open for me on the driver's side rear. As we 
drove out of the parking lot, I began to give directions 
to my sister's place, but they turned the other way. 
When I protested, they said they knew an after-hours 
private club where we could pick up where we'd left off, 
and that it was not far away. I pressed them to just 
take me home, but Steve just drove faster and didn't 
even acknowledge my protests.

We stopped for a light, and I opened the door to get 
out. But I was stopped cold by Brad's huge hand around 
my arm, pulling me back into the car. "Let me go, 
please!" I said with a stern attitude, but he just 
dragged petite little old me across the seat and onto 
his lap. I could feel that he was hard, and could sense 
the excitement in his tone of voice.

I was, as I said, a bit tipsy, and that little 
submissive fantasy light went on in my head. Here I was, 
with three cute guys in a nice car, and they wanted to 
take me somewhere. I wondered how it would feel to take 
them all, one by one, and have my multi-orgasmic 
appetite satisfied once and for all. So I quit 
protesting and turned around on Brad's lap and straddled 
him, giving him a big, wet kiss. Another big mistake 
(who ever said that whiskey makes you frisky was both a 
prophet and a bastard).

Brad quickly got the message, and said "That's more like 
it, baby." I slid off of him, back onto the seat. He 
held me close and told me how beautiful I looked, and 
how he and his friends were so taken with my charm and 
beauty, and how they all just wanted to spend a little 
more time with me, drinking and dancing. I should have 
known that I was being schmoozed, but my radar was just 
out of order or something. We pulled into a parking lot 
of another club, and got out. It looked like their 
after-hours club story was legit, so I wasn't on the 
defensive and was, in fact, eager to get inside where 
there were other people. 

Steve led the way, and unlocked the door, holding it 
open for the rest of us. I couldn't hear any music or 
people inside, and I began to get this cold, clammy 
feeling that they were up to something that I hadn't 
planned on. Steve locked the door behind us, and left 
the lights off, so that only the light from a couple of 
beer signs behind the bar dimly lit the entire club 
area.

I said, "This place doesn't look like it's open for 
business or anything." They all just laughed, and Brad 
said that it sure was, and that I was going to find out 
first-hand. I struggled out of Brad's grasp, and ran for 
the door. 

Locked.

They walked over to me and Brad scooped me up in his 
arms and carried me over to the pool table. Now I was 
getting excited, mostly because I was scared, but a 
little because I thought I knew what they were going to 
do, and I had this fantasy...

Brad gently laid me down on the table, and I tried to 
get up, talking loud now about just what was going on 
here or something. Brad held my legs, Steve held my 
arms, and John reached into his coat pocket for 
something. He brought out a small bottle of something, 
opened it, and shoved some up my nose. I snorted it back 
out quickly, and thought, "Are they trying to get me 
high on coke or something?" I'd never done coke, and 
didn't know how it should have felt.

My rejection of the stuff made John angry, and he got 
some more of the substance out of the bottle, covered my 
mouth, and stuffed it up my nose again. I struggled and 
squirmed, trying to break free or shake the stuff from 
my nose, but eventually I had to breath, and I took the 
whole load up my nose in the process.

I immediately went limp. My mind buzzed, as I felt 
completely detached from my body. I couldn't even move a 
muscle, and I couldn't feel a thing. No touching, no 
pain, but complete awareness of my surroundings. I 
thought I had died or something, but I was still 
breathing. They put some more of the stuff in my nose, 
and my involuntary breathing reaction sucked it up into 
body. Steve said, "That oughtta be enough to keep her 
down." Then they started in on me.

I couldn't even move my eyes, but I could see from my 
side vision that they had lifted the skirt of my dress 
up to my waist, and were taking off my pantyhose. I 
could see them moving my legs to get the stockings off, 
but I couldn't feel a thing. It was almost like watching 
a movie or something.

I couldn't see clearly, but one of them (I think Brad) 
dropped his pants and was obviously trying to work his 
way into me. He got on top of me, but I couldn't even 
feel the pressure from his weight. I could see myself 
moving up and down in rhythm with his motion, and I 
could smell his perspiration and beer breath. He pounded 
my pussy for a few minutes, and made a grunting noise 
that indicated that he had come.

The next one, I think it was Steve, took his place and 
did the same thing, pumping me, then grunting. The last 
one, John, wanted it a bit differently, so he grabbed me 
by my waist and lifted me up in the air and down onto 
his cock. While holding me by my hips, he worked me on 
and off his dick, and I could hear the slurping sound as 
my now cum-drenched pussy took him in again and again. 
Still, I could only hear and see peripherally, and it 
was totally weird that I couldn't feel a thing. 
Completely numb. I couldn't even blink, and my eyeballs 
were hurting because they were getting all dried out.

After they were done, it sounded like they got a round 
of beers from the cooler and were winding down. I could 
hear them comment on how tight and hot I was, and how 
wet I got. John said that the way he worked me on and 
off him was a lot like getting a great hand-job, and 
they laughed and said he oughtta know about that, him 
being his own best sex partner and all.

After they were finished, they picked me up and carried 
me back out to the car. We began driving again, and 
quickly wound up back at the first club. They carried me 
out of the car, and sat me up on the side of the club, 
just outside the door on the sidewalk. They said thanks 
for the wonderful time, and told me that the stuff would 
wear off soon and I could be on my way.

I sat alone for what seemed to be an eternity, then I 
began to twitch involuntarily. This made me loose my 
balance against the wall, and I slid down into a 
doubled-over laying position. After a few more minutes, 
I could feel the prickly sensation coming back to my 
arms, legs and skin. I could move now, and I crawled a 
little to a post, then used it to get me on my feet. I 
could now feel everything, and I could tell I was sore 
and bruised all over. Slowly, I walked one step at a 
time back towards my sister's apartment.

My ability to walk smoothly returned quickly, and I 
nearly ran the rest of the way to her place. I pounded 
and pounded on the door, and my sister, Jean, opened it 
up in near panic. After the expected "Oh my God's" and 
"What happened to you?" she said we needed to call the 
police.

I thought the same thing for a minute, then I hesitated. 
Here I was, a good looking girl from out of town, went 
to a pick-up bar by herself, seen drinking and dancing 
with these men for several hours, and left voluntarily 
with them. No last names, no license plate, no witnesses 
to what they did to me, and apparently no witnesses when 
they dropped me back off. Not a real good set of facts 
or circumstances for a Grand Jury to ponder.

So, I talked Jean out of calling the cops, and agreed to 
see her ob/gyn the following morning. He was very nice 
and understanding, and said that I had been probably 
been drugged by PCP, some sort of animal tranquilizer 
that has the weird effect of leaving the body completely 
numb but completely aware. He said that I had some bad 
abrasions and a few bumps and bruises, especially where 
I was grabbed around the hips, but that I would be OK in 
a few days. He gave me a prescription for some 
painkiller, and an antibiotic just in case.

I spent the remainder of my California vacation just 
sleeping and gazing dazedly at the TV. I was still in a 
half-trance when Jean drove me to the airport, and I 
slept soundly on the plane. I awoke when we touched back 
down, and as I walked to the baggage claim, it all 
seemed just like a bad dream, that it really didn't 
happen after all, but was some freakish nightmare. I was 
back home now, and I could put the bad dream behind me.

Well, I spent the next few months hanging out with 
friends after school or work, and never did get the 
desire back to do some of the lone bar crawling that I 
used to do. I guess I'm very lucky that I came through 
it all with no permanent damage, either physically or 
mentally.

Now I do have a heightened sense of awareness and 
suspicion about newfound friends, and I'm cured of doing 
stupid stuff like getting a ride back home from perfect-
strangers. I also never, ever wish for my old fantasy of 
a gang-bang, since I now know that without the caring 
and sharing that goes along with making love, screwing 
is just a mechanical act.

END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form. 

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Kristen's collection - Directory 21