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There's "Rape" And Then There's Rape
by Oldhornywriter (freewilly950@yahoo.com)

***

Reality intrudes upon the writing of a rape fantasy 
story. (MF, nc, rp, v, oral, anal)

***

My name is Jasmine Pierce. I'm 36, an attorney, a 
serious poker player, and I write erotic stories when I 
have the time and the urge. I have time for these other 
things because I'm a very smart and successful 
attorney. I figured out early where the money was and I 
focused on the more exciting of these alternatives, 
defense work for major medical malpractice carriers. 
It's really not all that amazing that people will pay 
very well to avoid the loss of millions of dollars. 
I've now got 3 other attorneys into my office to do a 
lot of the drudge work, which lets me get away a lot 
when we're not prepping for or actually in a trial.

I also have time for these things because I haven't 
cluttered up my life with a husband and kids. Shit, I 
don't even have a dog, and I can't stand cats. If I'm 
horny, sometimes I'll ask a guy out; and if I still 
want to fuck him after drinks and dinner, I'll take him 
to a skin flick at the local XXX Bijou to warm him up. 
If he's fun in bed and not serious afterward, I'll add 
him to my list of guys to call when I feel like a 
quickie and I don't have time to go through the whole 
drinks to bed routine. If he's not fun or he does try 
to get serious, I drop him as gently as he'll let me, 
or as hard as he makes me, whichever it takes to get 
the job done.

Of course, I'm built like a brick shithouse and have 
the face of a Raphael Madonna. Yeah, right, in my 
dreams. Actually, I have the remains of a nice body 
that has been subjected to over a dozen years of aging 
largely in front of desks and computers. And, dammit, 
cellulite happens. Six feet of height, the tensions of 
trial work, avoiding desserts except on vacation and 
the realization that I have to live and work in a 
looks-based society has kept me from going completely 
to hell. Still, I miss having the body that I occupied 
when I was a girl's varsity basketball player in high 
school. The face isn't bad, though. It may be a long 
way short of the Renaissance ideal, but it's a damn 
sight nicer than the current Madonna's, in my humble 
opinion.

I try to block out time every January to go to Tunica 
for at least a week. Their annual series of tournaments 
has been a great event ever since they got it going. 
There are tons of players every year, a lot of them 
very good; more of them average to awful. So, it's a 
place where I can blow off a little steam and make a 
little money. That's a little money; nothing like what 
I bill per hour. Not even close. But I have been 
playing on other people's money for years now, so I see 
it as a kind of therapy where the therapists are paying 
me for my time. Not a bad deal, if you think about it.

This year between the early tournaments and the side 
games I was doing okay for my first 3 days, so on day 4 
I played in a $2000 buy-in No-Limit Hold-em tournament. 
There were over 150 players, so first place paid over 
$75,000. I've never made it to first place, but I don't 
need to. I'm more than happy if I make it to the final 
table, which is where you need to be to make decent 
money. Maybe that accounts for me never making it to 
first place; I don't know. But the fact is that I'm an 
attorney who plays poker more for fun and stress relief 
than to be a pro, so I'm happy not having to obsess 
about beating everyone in sight in order to feel good.

About half way through this tournament I had the chip 
lead at my table; probably enough to put me in the top 
10 of the remaining players at that point. In this 
situation, if the poker gods are being nice to me, 
they'll let me make a button play that is a complete 
long-shot, but that is likely to bust another player 
(or two if the gods are really kind) when it works.

A lot of players like to play an Ace with a small card, 
5 or lower, especially if it is suited. These are great 
for taking down hands like AK when the board pairs both 
the Ace and their baby kicker. They are even better 
when the board cards fill out the wheel, the A-5 
straight, and better still when the board provides the 
cards for the nut flush. Because they are not 
particularly strong hands pre-flop, most people will 
try to see the flop with them as cheaply as possible.

This is ideal for me because the hand that I use for 
this trap is much weaker than anyone else's, either a 
65 of a 64, and when I want to come in on the button 
with it I want to do so with a raise, not a call. Not a 
big raise, because the odds are strong that I'll have 
to dump the hand after the flop. But, still, a raise to 
make it look much stronger than it is.

Well, long story short, the gods were being nice to me 
at this point. Not only did they deliver a 64 to me 
when I was on the button, at the same time they gave a 
couple of players with chip stacks about half as big as 
mine cards good enough to call with but not to raise. 
On top of this, one of those guys was the most 
obnoxious player that I'd met at this year's 
tournaments. He was a big, meaty, loud guy who thought 
not only that he was God's gift to poker, but that 
women shouldn't play. He had sucked out on me on the 
first day that we played, taking down my KK with a JT 
when the board held an AKQ.

As I got up to leave after that beat I gave him the 
customary "Nice hand." After all, you want dumb-fucks 
like that to keep playing that way, so you can get the 
money back later.

His response was way over the line, though. Something 
along the lines of "Ya shoulda stayed in the kitchen, 
girlie, instead of coming out here with us real poker 
players."

He'd been consistently rude and antagonistic whenever 
he'd seen me since then, which made me especially happy 
that the fates delivered me not only my favorite trap 
scenario, but also this rude bastard as a potential 
victim.

Anyway, the player under the gun called the $600 big 
blind, and the big rude guy called. Everyone else up to 
me folded and I made it $1500, which drove out the 
small blind and got a call from the big blind. The 
fellow who had limped in first folded, and the dickhead 
called, and added "I guess you just won't learn, 
girlie". 

The flop came 953, rainbow, which gave me an open-ended 
straight draw. Both of the players in front of me 
checked, so I made it $3000 to go, trying to look like 
an overpair. That got rid of the big blind, leaving 
only my day-one suck out artist. He thought a minute 
then called. 

The turn card was a deuce, again unsuited, which made 
my straight and eliminated any possibility of a flush 
draw. Mr. Rude Bastard spent some time appearing to 
think about what to do, then checked again. At this 
point I had the nuts and I didn't put him on a set. I 
figuring he'd have check-raised me if he'd hit a set on 
the flop, and he'd have folded a pair of deuces when 3 
overcards came on the flop and I acted like I could 
beat a pair of nines. 

Since I felt I was holding the nuts and didn't face a 
flush or a strong full-house draw, I didn't want to 
drive him off. I just made another $3000 bet, which 
should have been enough to take the pot down if he had 
nothing, and enough to keep him in if he was on a long-
odds draw. Grinning from ear to ear, he almost beat me 
into the pot with the rest of his stack, which was a 
pretty clear signal to me that he'd been holding the 
best hand I could have hoped for, an Ace four. I 
immediately called and the dealer had us turn over our 
cards. Just as I'd hoped, he was holding the Ace four, 
which made him a straight to the 5.

"Son of a bitch," Mr. Rude Bastard said when he saw 
that he was drawing dead to a 6, for a tie. And when 
the river card turned out to be a Jack, he lost it.

"You fucking cunt," he almost shouted. "What sort of 
idiot raises on a 64?"

"Sir, watch your language unless you want to be eighty-
sixed" the dealer told him.

"Fuck you sonny," he said, "and fuck you too, girlie."

"Floor!" the dealer called.

"Forget it sonny. I'm outta here," said Mr. Rude 
Bastard as he turned and stomped off.

The floor person had not appeared in response to my 
dealer's first call, so while pushing me the pot he 
asked if I wanted him to call again.

"No, thanks. Just let it go," I said, not wanting to 
hold up the game. I'd had my revenge, and it was sweet. 
But now there was a tournament to try to win and, 
besides, the jerk was gone.

Several of the other players at the table complimented 
me on my play of that hand, and a couple even thanked 
me for getting rid of the jerk. We continued to play 
until our table was broken up to fill holes at other 
tables as more players busted out.

As it happened, I did make the final table that day. 
But, as usual, I didn't make it to the top, being taken 
out when my pre-flop pair of Jacks lost to an 87 of 
hearts and the board produced a heart flush. Hey, 
that's poker. I was happy with my 6th place money of 
over eight grand. I'd played well, I'd gotten lucky at 
the right times, especially against Mr. Rude Bastard, 
and I'd made some money. Life was good.

By this time it was early evening. I was planning to 
re-invest my eight grand toward a seat in the $10,000-
entry main event, the one where the winner would become 
an instant millionaire, the next day. I decided to go 
back to my room, order some room service and write a 
little erotica to help me clear my head.

I had told Jeremy, one of my occasional playmates, 
about my erotic story writing. (I'd told him that I 
could write a better script than the one in the skin 
flick we'd just seen, and he told me to prove it, which 
I did by showing him some of my stories.) He had 
recently asked me to write a rape-fantasy story for 
him. I'm not really into rape-fantasy stories. Nearly 
all of them are completely fantastic, totally missing 
the point about rape being an acting out of anger, 
hostility, the need to hurt and dominate that just 
happens to involve sex. As a woman, I always found them 
degrading when they had the victim turning on to the 
act. But this guy was as close as I was going to find 
to the one in the older-guy's pickup line where he 
claims a 9-inch tongue and the ability to breathe 
through his ears. And, unlike the guy in that line, 
there was absolutely nothing wrong with his dick, 
either. Beyond that, he'd never asked me for anything 
before, he hadn't gotten pissed off when I made it 
clear that I was the o
ne who was to do the calling, and he was always happy 
to come over when I called him for a quickie.

"What the hell," I thought, "don't be such a hard-ass. 
You can do this for him." I'd been thinking about his 
story off and on since he put in his request, which 
would make it easier to write than one about something 
else. So after a long hot shower I slipped my naked 
body into the big fluffy terrycloth robe that the hotel 
provided, got some wine out of the mini-fridge, and 
settled down to write:

* * *

Story for Jeremy

Sally Jordan gave herself an appreciative look in the 
full-length mirror in her bathroom. At 24 she had a 
wonderful body: 115 pounds spread over a 5'6" frame 
with a near-perfect 36- (thanks in no small part to her 
nice D-cup breasts) 24-36 set of curves. She had one of 
those perfect heart-shaped faces with large eyes and 
the pouty lips that had become all the rage, nicely 
framed by shoulder-length light blonde hair.

It was Thursday night and she was thinking about 
trawling a couple of her favorite singles' bars, 
getting a head start on lining up some weekend 
entertainment. She'd broken up with her previous 
boyfriend of 6 months a week ago, and she was getting 
more than a little horny. In fact, just thinking about 
tonight's prospects was making her nipples perk up and 
causing a nice warm feeling below her neatly trimmed 
bush.

"I think I'll look for an older guy tonight. Jeremy...

["Hi Jeremy," I thought. "Since it's your story you 
might as well have a cameo role."]

"... was sweet and he could fuck like a pile driver. 
But most of the young guys I've fucked are more into 
fucking me than pleasing me," she thought. "Someone 
more appreciative and anxious to spoil me rotten might 
be a nice change."

She went into the closet and pulled out an old Catholic 
school skirt that she had gotten from one of her 
roommates at college and had since shortened. In her 
experience, this schoolgirl look was a real come-on for 
middle aged guys. After putting on a low-cut push-up 
bra and a tight white blouse (top 3 buttons undone to 
show plenty of cleavage, of course), she slipped on a 
red thong and the skirt. Next she put on her makeup; 
very little tonight in keeping with the wholesome 
schoolgirl look. Once more she appraised herself in the 
full-length mirror and liked what she saw.

"God, but I look like a pedophile's wet dream," she 
said to herself as she added an old lightweight letter 
jacket to complete the ensemble.

She collected her purse from the table by the front 
door, checking to make sure that she had her driver's 
license ("I'm sure to get carded in this get-up," she 
thought), car keys and condoms. Then, as an 
afterthought before heading out, she took off the thong 
and put it in a pocket of her jacket. Jeremy had turned 
her on to going outside without any underwear right 
after they had started going together. It was pretty 
sexy for her as long as it wasn't too cold outside.

When Sally got to the Bearded Clam, her favorite 
singles' meat market, she found Nick on duty at the 
door, so she didn't have any trouble with her underage 
look. Nick was a former boyfriend. Big, strong as an 
ox, but a cuddly Teddy Bear in bed. Most notably Nick 
had introduced her to the joys of anal sex, using all 
the patience and tenderness that he could until 
eventually she could take his big 9-incher in one firm 
push without any pain. In fact, thanks to Nick, Sally 
had now come to crave having cock up her ass as much as 
she'd loved straight fucking and sucking when she'd met 
him.

"Well," Sally thought as she pressed into the crowd at 
the bar, "if I haven't found anything better by 2am, I 
can always come back and collect Nick."

In spite of all her preparations and natural beauty, to 
say that Sally made a big splash at the Bearded Clam 
would have been a gross overstatement. In fact, it 
appeared that a lot of young women had decided to shop 
early for the weekend. There was so much young, 
beautiful girl flesh on display, and so few middle-aged 
guys, that she was thinking she'd made a mistake going 
there at all. "I'm already here," she thought, "so I 
might as well have a drink and give it a chance before 
moving on."

On her way to the bar she did attract the attention of 
a couple of guys, but they were too close to her age; 
not what she had come here for. She brushed them off 
politely and found an empty stool, determined to hold 
out for her middle-aged sugar-daddy-to-be.

About halfway through her drink Sally felt a hand grab 
her left ass cheek. She turned around to find a big, 
meaty guy standing way too close to her.

["Welcome to my story, Mr. Rude Bastard," I said to 
myself as I stopped to pour some more wine. "You may be 
a total loss as a human being and a poker player, but 
you'll make a great sick villain by the time I'm done 
with you."]

"Hi girlie," he said in a loud voice. "Does your mommy 
know you're hanging out with the big boys now."

His condescending attitude, on top of his groping hand, 
really pissed Sally off, so she didn't cut him any 
slack. "Look, asshole, whoever I'm hanging out with it 
isn't you, so you can get your hand off my ass right 
now."

"Aw, sorry 'bout that, girlie," he said, trying but 
failing to look contrite. "I just figured that since 
you were dressed up in that fuck-me costume you might 
appreciate the attentions of a real man. Know what I 
mean?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean. And I might even 
appreciate the attentions or a real man. But I guess 
that leaves you out. So, go find someone else to hustle 
and leave me alone or I'll ask Nick to heave your sorry 
ass into the parking lot."

"Okay, girlie, if that's the way you want to be, I'm 
outta here. Parrrdon meeee for having tried to bring 
some sizzle into your pathetic little life."

The encounter with the loudmouthed pig put the 
finishing touches on Sally's patience with the Bearded 
Clam. She decided to head off to the Peg 'n Hole, where 
the crowd was usually a little smaller but also a 
little older on average. "Might as well try quality vs. 
quantity," she thought.

When she got there the doorman/bouncer was someone she 
didn't know, so she not only had to go through the 
carding routine, but she had to call on Douglas, the 
bartender, to vouch for her as a regular who wasn't 
trying to sneak in on a fake ID. Once she got through 
that hassle and ditched her jacket in the coatroom, she 
headed for the bar and found an empty stool. This time 
she made a point of swishing her skirt up as she 
settled her bare ass down on the barstool, just in case 
anyone was paying attention.

As luck would have it, there weren't a lot of single 
guys at the bar yet. Most of the Pegs already had their 
own Holes with them, and Sally didn't feel like getting 
into a catfight to steal one of them away. "Wonder 
where all the guys are," she thought as she sipped her 
drink. "Are there some fucking playoffs on TV tonight?"

Sally was just starting on her third drink when the 
door opened and in walked the loud, rude guy from the 
Bearded Clam. She was sure that he spotted her when he 
came in, but he seemed to have gotten the message 
before, since he went down to the other end of the bar 
to get his drink. Sally returned her attention to her 
own drink, and so was surprised when she felt a hip 
press up against her, and this same obnoxious guy 
plopped down two drinks on the bar next to her.

"Hi again girlie. I asked the bartender what you were 
drinking and I brought you one. You were awful nasty to 
me at that other place, but I decided to be a nice guy 
and give you a second chance."

"Jesus Christ," said Sally, trying to move away from 
his pressing hip. "You can't be real. If you think I 
gave you a hard time at the other place, wait until I 
get you thrown out of this one. Now get the fuck away 
from me or I'll get that bouncer over there to do it to 
you."

"Shit girlie, what game you think you're playing? You 
come out dressed like a little horny high school whore. 
You cruise from bar to bar flashing your tits all over 
the place in that tight blouse, wearing a little 
schoolgirl dress that barely covers your ass. And then 
when a real man has the balls to come up and ask for 
some of what you're offering you act like a little cock 
tease and tell him to get lost. That sort of thing can 
get you hurt, you know?"

"Like I said before, asshole, whether I'm cruising for 
a real man or not doesn't matter in your case, because 
if you're a real man the Pope is a Lutheran. Now I hate 
to hurt your feelings like that, but you're the one who 
keeps pushing, and I'm going to push back until I can 
get you to go away."

"Aw, girlie, all that talk about pushing and pushing 
back is getting me so horny. You sure you wouldn't like 
to get a little taste of what I have to offer before 
you make a bad mistake like that? I'll bet your mouth 
would be happier sucking on my love stick than it is 
talking all this hostile shit you been talking at me."

"Douglas," Sally called to the barman, "would you come 
here please."

"Alright, girlie," the boor said. "I sure am getting 
tired of you chasing me off, what with me trying to be 
so nice to you." And, as Douglas approached he said, 
"Forget it sonny. I'm outta here," and headed for the 
door.

"Thanks Doug," Sally said. "That guy was a real pain in 
the ass. Do I really look like I can be had for the 
price of a drink and a Neanderthal come-on."

"Sally, love, only because you asked," Douglas said 
soothingly, "no, I don't think so. But from the way 
you're dressed I'd guess that you could be had tonight 
for the price of a drink without the Neanderthal come-
on. Shit, you're so cute in that schoolgirl outfit that 
if I weren't happily gay I'd want to get a piece of you 
myself."

"You're sweet, Doug," Sally said as she scooted far 
back on her barstool and lifted the front of her skirt 
to show him her pantyless snatch. "Are you sure that I 
can't entice you over to the dark side."

"Jesus, Sally," Douglas said with a laugh. "Cover that 
up before you start a riot in here. I appreciate the 
offer, but I really am happy the way I am. And besides, 
Myron would kill me if he found out I was messing 
around on him, especially with a girl."

"Ah well, it was worth a try. How about you get rid of 
that pig's so-called free drink and bring me another?"

And so it went through two more drinks, until Sally was 
beginning to feel no pain except that of frustration at 
having struck out again. It was still too early to 
think of waiting for Nick, and the thought of having to 
spend the night with her vibrator rankled.

As she rose to leave the bar Douglas came over and 
said, "Sally, you're really not in good shape to drive 
at the moment. Either I'm going to have to tie you up 
until you get sober, or I'm going to have to call a cab 
for you."

"Oh Doug, you say the nicest things to a girl. I'll let 
you tie me up if you promise to fuck me a little. I 
promish not to tell Myron."

"Sorry, Sally," Douglas said. "If I ever decide to go 
bi- I promise that you'll be the first girl I'll ask 
for a free fuck. But right now it just isn't going to 
work for us."

"I'll be waiting by my phone, shweetie, she slurred. 
"But I guess that right now you'd better call me a cab. 
I'll go outside to wait for it, and maybe clear my head 
a little."

"You're sure you're not going to drive off on me, are 
you?"

"Hadn't even crossed my mind Doug. I may be sex-crazed, 
but I'm not crazy. Here," she said as she reached into 
her purse, "you can even hold my car keys for me until 
the cab getsh here if it'll make you feel any better."

"Thanks Sally, but I'm going to trust you on this one. 
Go ahead and keep the keys. I should have a cab here 
within 5 minutes, and I doubt you'll get really stupid 
on me. Just come back in if you feel yourself 
weakening."

[At this point I needed to take a break, because I was 
about to cross the line into writing stuff that I 
absolutely didn't believe. And, besides, I still needed 
to get some supper into me. So, I called room service 
and ordered a ham and cheese omelet and a slice of 
pecan pie with whipped cream. Hey, breakfast food is 
great any time of day, and nothing in the rules says I 
can't have dessert with breakfast when I'm on vacation. 
Then I took another sip of wine and got back to work.]

Outside the Peg 'n Hole Sally decided to move away from 
the door, where the brighter lights were hurting her 
eyes. Then she remembered that she had left her jacket 
inside. As she turned to go back in for it, she felt a 
cloth go over her mouth and an arm folding around her 
waist, lifting her off the ground. As she opened her 
mouth to scream the hand holding the cloth forced it 
into her mouth and slipped some sort of elastic band 
that was attached to it over the back of her head. Then 
that arm, freed up from silencing her, joined the other 
around her waist.

Sally tried to struggle, but it was no use. Whoever had 
grabbed her was much bigger and stronger than she was. 
"Probably not drunk as I am, either," she thought 
ruefully.

As he carried her around the corner of the building and 
into the parking lot the man holding her whispered into 
her ear, "Why, you are a sight to behold. I haven't had 
me a little schoolgirl in months. Doing you is going to 
be fun."

It was the voice of a complete stranger, and Sally 
shivered at the thought that this man really was 
planning to rape her. Out of instinct and pride she 
tried to struggle out of his grasp. At the same time, 
she couldn't help but feel a tingle in her nipples and 
cunt. 

["Okay Jeremy, starting to feel a little twitch in the 
old fuck stick," I thought at this point.]

Sally had started the evening horny and optimistic, and 
had left the Peg 'n Hole horny and frustrated; plus 
just a little bit tipsy. Well, maybe more than a little 
bit tipsy to be honest. She had had rape fantasies for 
years, and had even gotten some of her boyfriends to 
act them out with her. Jason had "broken in" through 
her bedroom window one night and actually put a knife 
next to her throat as he made her undress him and suck 
his cock before discarding the knife and fucking her 
brains out. 

That had been incredibly hot for both of them. Billy 
had gotten her tied up on the bed one night and instead 
of fucking her cunt had told her that he was going to 
rape her ass. Fortunately, though Billy didn't know it, 
his time with Sally was well after Nick's. So, while 
Sally pleaded and protested and made it hard for him to 
get his dick into her rear hole, this "anal rape" 
wasn't the least bit painful for her, and she enjoyed 
the whole scene immensely. Brian had grabbed her one 
night in the park and fucked her while she was bent 
over a picnic table, unable to see who it was until he 
was finished. She had often thought about how the fear 
and her lust had intertwined during that encounter.

So, while Sally was wiggling in her captor's arms and 
making protesting noises into her gag, she was turning 
on to the idea of actually being forced into submitting 
to sex, and with this stranger rather than with one of 
her boyfriends who was only play acting.

Toward the back of the parking lot was a white van, and 
the stranger carried Sally to it. He slid the door open 
and threw her in roughly, following quickly, slamming 
the door behind him and locking it. Then he turned on 
an overhead light.

Sally found herself sprawled out on the floor of the 
van. The whole back area was carpeted, as were the 
walls to about half their height. There was a solid 
partition between the back of the van and the passenger 
compartment. The windows in the back doors had been 
painted over, so that the overhead light that the 
stranger had turned on was the only source of 
illumination.

As Sally was looking around she noticed that when she 
had been thrown onto the floor of the truck her short 
skirt had ridden up, revealing that she was wearing no 
panties. The stranger also noticed this and said, 
"Well, little lady, it looks like you came out ready 
for action tonight. I guess it's a good thing I found 
you."

Sally reached for the gag and the stranger grabbed her 
wrists. "No, you don't take that off until we get some 
ground rules down. We both know why we're here. If you 
cooperate, you won't be hurt and you might even have a 
good time. If you scream after I take that gag off, or 
fight me, I'm gonna hurt you. And if you manage to hurt 
me I'm gonna hurt you real bad, maybe even mess up that 
sweet little face of yours. Now, if you want to do it 
the easy way you just nod your head up and down and 
I'll take that gag off."

Sally was really getting turned on by the masterful 
tone that this man was using on her. Usually she was 
able to jerk her boyfriends around however she wanted, 
even Nick in spite of all his size and capacity for 
violence when he was in bouncer mode. Having this 
powerful man order her around was curiously appealing. 
She nodded, trying to make it appear not too 
enthusiastic, and the stranger removed her gag. The 
first words out of her mouth were, "What are you going 
to do to me?"

"Well, just about anything I want. And you can call me 
sir, by the way. I won't punish you for leaving that 
off this time, but next time it'll cost you. Got that?"

Yes," Sally said, and quickly added "Sir," when the man 
raised his arm.

"Good. You must be a bright little schoolgirl to learn 
so fast."

"I'm not really a school girl, sir," Sally said meekly. 
"This is just an outfit I wear sometimes."

"Oh, well, gosh, I really had my heart set on doing a 
school girl tonight. I guess in that case you'd better 
go."

Sally was completely confused by this, until the man 
broke out laughing and said, "Just kidding. Now, how 
about you see how fast you can get undressed for me."

Sally felt herself blushing, not from having to undress 
in front of this stranger, but because he had made fun 
of her. Still, her fingers moved to comply with his 
command. The blouse came off quickly, since it was 
mostly unbuttoned already. Then she unhooked her bra, 
feeling both relief and pride as her magnificent 
breasts were freed from its pressure. Finally, she 
unbuttoned the skirt and slipped it over her hips.

"Nice equipment," the man said. "Too bad you can't 
stand up in here and show it off properly. Now turn 
around on your knees and show me your ass."

["Have you got your cock out yet, Jeremy? Are you 
jerking off yet, you pervert?]

Sally turned around and waited, kneeling with her ass 
toward the man. Nothing happened for a few of seconds 
except the clink of a belt buckle and the sound of the 
belt being pulled through pants loops. She was about to 
look back over her shoulder to see what was happening 
when there was a swish followed by a loud crack and a 
burst of pain as the belt cut across her ass.

"Ow!" she cried, and again as a second lash came in, 
then a third. Sally had never been seriously spanked, 
even as a child, so she wasn't prepared for this. No 
question, it did hurt, but she also felt herself start 
to tingle in all the right places, caused by the 
burning in her ass cheeks and the thought that this man 
had just had his way with her in a fashion entirely new 
to her. As she knelt waiting for the next stroke of the 
belt she found herself looking forward to the 
stimulation that she was getting from the pain. But the 
belt did not come again. Instead, she felt the man's 
fingers reaching roughly between her legs and into her 
cunt.

"Well, well," the man said as he worked two fingers in 
and out, then three. "Looks like you like spanking. You 
get any wetter and it'll start running down your legs. 
But this isn't all about you, missy, so just you turn 
around and start getting my clothes off."

"Yes sir," Sally said, putting as much little-girl 
meekness into her voice as she could muster. The fact 
was that the spanking had turned her on more than she 
would ever have expected. Whatever uneasiness she might 
have felt over being abducted and told that she was 
going to be raped had completely evaporated in the heat 
spreading up from her crimson ass cheeks and her 
sopping cunt.

She quickly turned and started on the button of the 
man's jeans, but he stopped her.

"You are an eager little slut, aren't you? We're not in 
a hurry, so you can start with my shirt."

She quickly had this unbuttoned and was pulling it off 
of him when she noticed a long scar on his right 
forearm and a pucker in the flesh under his left 
shoulder."

He noticed her looking at these and said, "Yeah, I 
guess I been in a few fights. That shoulder, there, 
some kid shot me with his .22 when I was doing his mom 
in their house one night. Wasn't even hardly raping her 
either by then, she was so hot for what I was giving 
her. Taught me not to do it in people's houses any 
more, though. No siree, gotta get 'em where they can't 
get to no nasty knives or guns. Now, why don't you just 
suck on my nipples a little bit."

Sally moved her mouth onto his left nipple and took it 
between her lips. She started to suck and swirl her 
tongue around it as she felt his fingers grasp both of 
her nipples and begin to roll them around. She moaned 
and began to suck harder. She started to take little 
bites with her teeth, which caused the man to give a 
grunt. Then pain shot through Sally's tits as his 
fingers clamped down hard on her distended nipples.

She almost screamed as she pulled her mouth away from 
the man's chest.

"That might be nice some other time, but you weren't 
following orders there. I didn't tell you you could 
bite me. You gotta follow orders, honey, or I'm gonna 
have to hurt you like I said. You got that now?"

"Yes, sir," she gasped as the pain in her tits receded. 
She started to move back toward his chest but again the 
man stopped her.

"Okay, time to get my pants off, he said, as he moved 
from a kneeling position to lying flat on his back."

Sally worked the button and zipper of the man's jeans, 
and started to pull them and his undershorts down 
toward his heels. The man helped her by lifting his 
ass. As the clothes cleared his loins Sally gasped at 
the fully erect cock that sprang up in front of her. It 
was the biggest she'd ever seen, at least 9 inches 
long, and it looked about as big around as her wrist. 
She'd never had anything that big inside her before, 
and a twinge of fear mingled with the surge of lust 
that this vision produced in her. She quickly got the 
jeans and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and 
was about to grab the cock when she stopped, 
remembering what had happened when she had nibbled on 
his nipple.

"Fast learner, like I said before," the man said. "You 
wanting something there, little girl?

"Can I touch it sir?"

"Yeah, sure, and you can even suck on it and nibble on 
it a little. But if you bite me, I guarantee that your 
friends won't recognize you tomorrow."

Sally grabbed the monster cock in both hands. She 
licked off the drop of pre-cum that had already formed 
on it and swirled her tongue around its massive head. 
Then she opened her mouth wide and sucked her way down 
his shaft, listening to his moans as she enveloped him. 
She continued to move her head up and down, swirling 
her tongue as much as she could, nipping at the head of 
his prick occasionally. His hips began to buck and his 
hands came down in the back of her head, forcing it 
farther down on his shaft until she started to gag. She 
tried to pull back and he let her come up an inch or 
two, then he was pressing her down again, the head of 
his massive cock pressing against the back of her 
throat.

"Breathe through your nose," she thought as he 
continued to push. She made a swallowing motion and 
suddenly his cock was sliding into her throat, deeper 
and deeper until her nose was buried in his pubic 
hairs. He held her there for a moment, then pulled her 
up by her hair an inch or two and slammed her back down 
on his shaft.

["That ought to have him spurting all over the place," 
I said to myself as I recalled how much Jeremy had 
tried to get me to deep throat him, so far without 
success.]

Sally could feel the man's balls beginning to swell, 
and was torn between wanting him to blow his load into 
her mouth and the aching need she felt to have him 
drive his steely rod deep into her cunt. At that point 
the man decided the issue for her, pulling her off him 
as he sat up. He picked her up and pushed her roughly 
onto her back. He grabbed her legs, straightening her 
out as he spread them far apart and knelt between them.

"Alright slut, beg me to fuck you," he ordered.

"Fuck me sir."

"I said beg dammit. Say it like you want it."

"Oh sir," she whined," don't make me wait any longer. 
Please fuck me. Ram your big spike deep down my pussy. 
Please sir, split me open with that huge prick."

With that the man lined his prick up with her juicy 
cunt and rammed all the way into her with a thrust so 
hard and fast that it pushed Sally a couple of inches 
across the floor of the van.

Sally screamed, both with the pain she was experiencing 
at the sudden feeling of being almost split in two, and 
with the release brought on by the orgasm that came 
with being speared by the massive cock. She continued 
to moan and sob as the man kept pounding into her 
mercilessly, driving her from orgasm to orgasm. Her 
legs wrapped around his hips as she tried to pull him 
even deeper into her, at the same time raising her hips 
to meet his thrusts. 

None of her boyfriends had ever fucked her this hard, 
and the feeling of being pounded into submission by 
this huge, raging cock was taking her higher than she 
had ever been before. He was fucking her with such 
force that her pussy was beginning to get sore, but she 
was loving every part or it, even the pain that was 
building with he pleasure. She felt that she could go 
no higher, but when one of his rough fingers drove into 
her asshole she cried out and came again, even harder 
than before.

The man began to thrust even more wildly and Sally 
could feel his prick begin to swell in her stretched 
and battered cunt. "Fuck me, fuck me hard," she 
shouted. "Fill me with your cum. Oh, Jesus, fuck me 
'til I pass out." Neither of them seemed to notice that 
she had left off the "Sir."

With this encouragement ringing in his ears, the 
stranger gave a shout and went rigid as he pumped his 
cum into her. Sally could feel what seemed like buckets 
of cum spurting into her, and it brought her to one 
final, shrieking climax. Then the man collapsed heavily 
on top of her. 

As Sally lay there under him, listening to his harsh 
breathing, she heard the van door open.

"Why, hello girlie," she heard the obnoxious man from 
the bar say as he climbed into the van. "Good work Jim. 
It looks like you got our little cockteaser all warmed 
up. I hoped you saved her ass for me."

* * *

Just as I finished this paragraph there was a knock at 
my door accompanied by a muffled "Room service."

"Pretty good timing," I thought.. "My mind can use a 
rest while I think out the rest of this scenario." I 
looked out the peephole and saw the food trolley 
outside the door. As I opened the door it was pushed in 
by someone bending over it, who immediately shoved the 
cart at me then closed and locked the door behind him.

"Hi girlie," said Mr. Rude Bastard as he turned to face 
me. "I've been watching your room all evening waiting 
for you to come out. I figured that if you weren't 
going out to eat you'd probably have ordered room 
service, so I borrowed this cart from down the hall."

"You have got to be out of your fucking mind, breaking 
in here like this" I shouted. "Get out of here right 
now before I call the cops."

"Aw, girlie, I didn't break in," he said as he pushed 
the cart out from between us. "Anyone can see that you 
let me in. 'Stuck up bitch finally decided to get 
herself a real man' is what they'll be thinkin."

I could smell the liquor on his breath now and I knew 
that there was no point in trying to talk to this 
creep. I turned to pick up the phone on the beside 
table, but he made a lunge across the bed and beat me 
to it. As I grabbed for the phone my hand closed on his 
wrist.

"Give me that phone and get away from me now, you 
shithead," I snarled. "You're already in enough 
trouble."

"Girlie, you've got one mean mouth on you. You pull 
some stupid prank and get lucky at the poker table and 
you think you can lord it over me, don't you? Well, 
I've seen bitches like you before, and I know how to 
deal with 'em. You don't know what trouble looks like," 
he said as he picked up the hand set, "but I'm getting 
ready to show you." Then he smashed it into the side of 
my head.

I didn't see stars or hear birds like they show in the 
cartoons, but there was a tremendous flash of light 
inside my head. I must have passed out for awhile 
because the next thing I knew I was lying on my bed 
with a terrible headache. I was naked and a wash rag 
was stuffed in my mouth, tied in place with the cord 
from the bathrobe. 

Mr. Rude Bastard was standing at the foot of the bed 
taking his pants off, just in case I had any doubts 
about his intentions. Well, I wasn't about to pretend 
that this was something that I could lie back and 
enjoy. I was going to fight this bastard, kill him if I 
could; and if I died in the attempt, that seemed better 
to me than just letting this guy rape me.

I began to get off the bed, trying to get at him while 
he was still dancing around with one leg in his pants. 
I almost made it, but I was woozy from the blow to my 
head. I landed off balance and went down on one knee. 
This gave him time to get rid of his pants and he used 
his newly freed foot to kick me in the ribs, hard. I 
think I heard something crack, and from the feeling in 
my ribs it wasn't his foot.

I rolled over on my side holding my ribs, trying to get 
in enough air through my nose not to pass out while 
fighting the pain that every tortured breath brought 
me. Rude Bastard picked me up and threw me back on the 
bed, which caused a greater wave of pain to shoot up 
from my injured ribs. Satisfied that I wasn't going to 
attack him again any time soon, he turned his attention 
to pulling his boxer shorts off. When he stood up, I 
don't think I'd ever seen an uglier cock in my life. 
Not very long, maybe even shorter than average; but 
very thick around, with an ugly purplish head on it. He 
was fully erect too; apparently beating up women was a 
big turn-on for him.

He climbed up on the bed and roughly pulled my legs 
apart. I tried to knee him in his balls, but missed and 
got him on the inside of his thigh. This really pissed 
him of, and he hit me in the stomach, driving out the 
little bit of air that I'd been able to suck in through 
my nose. I felt a wave of nausea building, and prayed 
that I wouldn't vomit. I knew that if I did I'd drown 
on it, thanks to the gag, before this pig even noticed 
that I was having a problem.

"Alright, girlie, time to feel what it's like to have a 
real man in you," he snarled as he starting pushing his 
dick against the mouth of my cunt. 

God, it hurt! I was as dry as Oklahoma during the 
dustbowl, and each fraction of an inch that his 
repeated lunges gained him came at the cost of searing 
pain for me. I was whimpering into my gag at this 
point, trying to get at his eyes with my hands, but he 
grabbed them and pushed them behind my back, then 
flopped down hard to pin them under me. That spiked the 
pain in my ribs, adding to the agony coming from my 
cunt.

He continued to push and I continued to hurt, trapped 
under his weight and fury. Suddenly, I felt something 
tear in my cunt and the pain there became agonizing. 
Then there was moisture. "Blood," I thought, "I'm 
bleeding." But at least it made it easier for him to 
get into me.

Once he was in he pumped in and out for awhile, 
taunting me with shit like "See how wet you're gotten. 
I told you you'd appreciate having a real man in you," 
and "This'll give you something to remember while 
you're playing with yourself on those long lonely 
nights."

When he pulled out of me he settled back on his heels 
and saw the blood coming out of my cunt and soaking 
into the bed. He said. "Well, waddaya know. A middle-
aged virgin. No wonder you've been such a bitch these 
last few days. Shit girlie, you really did need a good 
fucking, didn't you? Real lucky for you I came along."

I made another half-hearted attempt to knee him in the 
groin, but I was hurting too much to put much speed or 
force into it. He grabbed my knee on the way up, pushed 
it over to the side, then leaned forward and lashed out 
with his fist at my face. I was able to turn my head so 
that he didn't break my nose. I may have been thinking 
that I needed to keep it intact if I wasn't going to 
suffocate. More likely, by this time I was just working 
pretty much on instinct, and dying doesn't seem to be 
the instinctual favorite, whatever I'd thought when I'd 
been thinking.

"Girlie, that's no way to show your appreciation for me 
giving you the fucking that you've needed so long," he 
said as he started to flip me over. He got me 
positioned with my face down in the bed and my knees 
under my hips, my ass raised up above them.

I knew what was coming. I'd been fucked in the ass 
before, and with the right guy and the right 
preparation I'd found it pleasant enough. But I knew 
that this guy wasn't going to lube me up or take any 
time stretching me out, just as I knew that, as much as 
I was hurting and still trying to resist him, I wasn't 
going to loosen up any myself. This shithead had 
already torn up my cunt and I didn't want to have my 
ass torn up as well. So, I started moving my hips 
around as much as I could, while at the same time 
rubbing my head back and forth, trying to free the cord 
that held the gag.

Fortunately, Rude Bastard was so focused on trying to 
get his meat into my moving ass that he wasn't paying 
any attention to my head. It took a lot of his 
strength, but he finally got my ass slowed down enough 
that he could ram his cock against it. He started 
pushing as hard as he could, and each shove caused a 
flash of pain as my sphincter was stretched under his 
assault. I tried not to focus on that, though, as I was 
finally starting to make progress with the rope around 
my gag.

Trying to get into my tight, dry ass must have been 
hurting Rude Bastard too, because he pulled back and I 
heard him hock a loogey. He must have done this into 
his hand and then rubbed it on his dick, because after 
he had gotten my ass back under control I felt the 
slime when his cock rammed up against it. He then 
tensed all of his muscles and gave a huge shove just as 
I was spitting the gag out of my mouth. The shout that 
I was preparing to let out was joined and amplified by 
the scream caused by his ripping deep into my asshole.

I passed out again.

When I came to, I was in a hospital bed with what 
looked like a doctor, a nurse and two cops standing 
beside it. I must have made some sound, because they 
all turned to look at me.

"Ms. Pierce," said the doctor looking guy, "I'm Dr. 
Bronfmann. You're in St Jude's hospital. Do you know 
why you're in the hospital?"

"I was raped," I croaked. That scream must have done a 
number on my throat.

"That's what we figured, given your condition," said 
the female cop. "The guy we're holding said you had 
invited him up and asked him for some rough sex, and 
that things must have gotten out of hand due to the 
drinking."

"We weren't buying his story given your condition," 
said the male cop. "But it will make our job much 
easier now that you've said that."

As the male cop left the room I heard Dr. Bronfmann 
telling his nurse to get a rape crisis team up here, 
STAT. I turned my head toward the female cop and asked 
her what had happened.

"Do you recall that you'd ordered room service?"

"Yeah, I did. That's how the guy got into my room. He 
pretended to be room service, and when I looked out the 
peephole I saw the cart, so I let him in."

The cop scribbled something in her notebook then said, 
"Well, it seems that the real room service guy was just 
outside your door when he heard what he described as," 
she flipped a couple of pages back in her notebook, 
then continued, "a quote blood-curdling scream unquote. 
He didn't have a passkey but the room service guys do 
have little two-way radios, so he got on the horn and 
told them he needed security ASAP.

"He says he was banging on the door, but nobody would 
answer. It took security a few minutes to get there, 
and when they walked in there they saw," again she 
consulted her notebook, "a quote, big guy on top of 
this woman screwing her in the ass, and a lot of blood 
on the bed, unquote. They restrained the male and 
called the house doctor, the hotel manager and 911 in 
that order. 911 sent my partner and me and an 
ambulance. You were out cold from the time that hotel 
security found you until about 3 minutes ago."

"How badly am I hurt?" I croaked.

The cop stepped back and said, "Doctor."

"Ms. Pierce, you've been hurt badly, and I'm speaking 
only as the trauma specialist for this hospital, not as 
a psychologist. So far you've been worked on by a 
gynecologist, a proctologist, a neurologist, as well as 
by me. You've had an MRI for your head, X-rays of your 
rib cage, temporary sutures in your vagina and rectum, 
three units of blood and lots of painkillers, which is 
about all we can do for your two broken ribs. 

"We haven't done anything yet for the hairline fracture 
in your left zygomatic bone - that's you left cheekbone 
which was apparently struck with a hard object. We'll 
leave the issue of what to do about that for one of our 
plastic surgeons to look at in the morning. Also, as a 
precaution, we have started you on an aggressive 
regimen of anti-virals in case your assailant is 
infected with HIV."

"What!" I squeaked at this last bit of information.

The female cop stepped back into my field of vision. 
"Up until you said rape, we have held this scumbag," 
once again the notebook, "Michael G. Cowan, of Atlanta, 
GA, on suspicion. We didn't want to book him for rape 
and get sued if you backed up his story about drunken 
rough sex gone wrong. As soon as you said the word, my 
partner stepped out to order his arrest on charges of 
rape, forcible sodomy and, if our Captain will go for 
it, mayhem. Otherwise we'll add the toughest assault 
charge we can get our Captain to throw at him plus any 
others that you can give us when we take your formal 
statement. 

"Anyway, now that he's under arrest, as part of the 
intake process Mr. Cowan is going to give us a saliva 
sample whether he wants it or not, and we should know 
shortly whether he is infected with HIV."

I'm glad that they had shot me full of painkiller, and 
not just for the deadening of my bruised and battered 
body. The thought that this asshole might have given me 
AIDS was just about more than I could take.

The doctor must have noticed this because he said, "Ms. 
Pierce, we bring HIV-free babies out of HIV-positive 
mothers every week in this hospital. We've had over 20 
years of dealing with this mess, and while we're far 
short of a vaccine or a cure, we've made a lot of 
progress in killing it when it's caught very early and 
slowing it down, often dramatically, when it isn't. I 
haven't sugar coated anything I've told you up to this 
point so I ask you, please, to trust me on this and not 
to start grieving over something that may not even be a 
problem."

"Doctor," the cop said, "would you mind if I had a 
minute alone with your patient?" It was nicely phrased, 
but clearly not a request.

"Certainly," he said. "Ms. Pierce, I must return to the 
ER now. There is a call button clipped to your gown 
beside your right hand. If you need anything, please do 
not hesitate to use it. We have a rape crisis team on 
its way up here now. They will start working with you 
as soon as Officer Hicks leaves."

Turning to the cop he said, "Officer Hicks, if they're 
not waiting outside when you are ready to go, please 
call a nurse. I don't want Ms. Pierce left alone before 
the team gets here."

Once the doctor had left, Officer Hicks turned to me. 
"Ms. Pierce, we don't have much time and there is 
something I need to clear up now, so listen carefully. 
After they got the asshole out of there and sent you 
off to the hospital, Glenn -- that's my partner, 
Officer Barnes -- and I did an inventory of your room. 
You had a computer on the table. Do you recall that?"

"Oh, shit! Yes, I'd forgotten all about it. Jeremy's 
story was open on it, and a lot of my other erotic 
stories were stored on the hard drive."

"'Oh, shit' is right, Counselor. As you probably know, 
putting the victim on trial is a standard defense in a 
rape case. That sort of thing could complicate this 
case a lot. I don't like complications in cases where 
the scumbag defendant is clearly guilty.

"Right now you and I are the only ones who know what I 
just told you; Glenn didn't see the computer until 
later, and no one else has heard this conversation. So, 
Counselor, I now regret to officially inform you that 
it appears that in your scuffles with Mr. Cowan your 
computer was completely trashed. Whatever was on its 
hard drive is almost certainly not recoverable.

"Whatever else you may have been doing that evening, it 
would be helpful if your own memory does not include 
writing a rape fantasy story for somebody named Jeremy 
or any other erotic stories. Do I make myself clear?"

"Quite clear, Officer Hicks," I said. "And thank you 
from the bottom of my heart for everything that you've 
done for me."

* * *

My name is still Jasmine Pierce and I'm now 37 years 
old. Fourteen months have gone by since Michael G. 
Cowan, of Atlanta, GA raped me. I wrote the above, even 
resurrecting that stupid story that I had written for 
Jeremy, partly as therapy and partly to prepare myself 
for Cowan's trial next month. Next week I'm going to 
have to decide whether to agree with the prosecutor's 
recommendation to skip the trial and give Cowan a plea 
deal that will put him in prison for 15 years for sure, 
or to go to trial and roll the dice for a life 
sentence. I honestly don't know which way I'll go on 
that.

I'm still suffering the effect of Cowan's rape; 
probably always will to some extent. On the less bad 
side (I've yet to find a good side unless perhaps it is 
the care and concern of my doctors and some of the cops 
who have worked my case, especially Officer Hicks), 
Cowan was not HIV positive and he did not get me 
pregnant. The damage to my vagina was fairly easily 
repaired. 

It turns out that long-standing practices used to 
restore virginities in places like Brazil and India 
worked well for me. The gynecologist who patched me up 
even said that if I ever married someone looking for a 
virgin or had kids and wanted to be tightened back up 
after giving birth, he'd give me a repeat customer 
discount. Not much chance of either, but I appreciated 
his gesture. The ribs healed on their own, as ribs do, 
and the hairline fracture in my cheekbone did not 
require surgery.

On the more bad side, the injuries to my rectum and 
anal sphincter were worse than they had thought. 
Fortunately, there's plenty that they can remove down 
there before you miss it, so they were able to snip and 
clip and sew me back together. I'm now back to shitting 
normally.

But there has been no more anal sex or, for that 
matter, any kind of sex for me since I got out of the 
hospital. I'm still working with my therapist on that. 
She thinks that my fantasy about becoming a lesbian 
might actually be a sign of progress.

It is too early, I think, to say whether I will ever be 
as good a trial lawyer as I was before this happened. I 
never forget that my clients are willing to pay big 
bucks for results, and that they'll yank their business 
the minute they don't get them, however sympathetic 
they might (or might not) be to what dulled my 
abilities. But I find myself going into the courtroom 
more on edge than before, and having to really rein 
myself in when cross-examining males who I think are 
assholes or who might be dismissive of me because I'm a 
female. I have to keep reminding myself: "A dish best 
served cold," and "the point is to win the case, not to 
humiliate assholes."

I haven't played poker since last January. I probably 
never will.

Nor have I written any more erotic stories beyond the 
re-creation of the fragment of that one I was writing 
for Jeremy when Cowan raped me.

I own a dog now, a stray bitch that just showed up at 
my house one day needing some food, a bath and someone 
to love her. We get along pretty well.

END

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places 
and incidents are either the product of the author's 
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance 
to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, 
is entirely coincidental.

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

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 56