My OperaTuesday, October 4, 2011 9:10:56 PM
It IS MY Fav.
THE WORK OUT
Saturday, September 10, 2011 12:42:08 AM
by Kallie
Please help me. They’ve left me alone-for now. But they’ll be back. And they’ll do something even worse, even more horrible. I don’t know how that’s possible, after all they’ve done to me, to my body. But I know they’ll find a way. Find something even more terrible to drive into my pussy, to shove cruelly ups my bleeding ass. Please help me.
I am so ashamed. So humiliated. He seemed so nice, you know? Trainer at the gym, handsome, buff, funny. David. His name is David. Gentle in his guidance, his hand on my waist sending tingles through my body. I wanted him. Oh, dear God, I did, I wanted him. How was I to know he wanted me in this terrible way?
Oh, this hurts so badly! Dildos shoved inside me, filling me, stretching me so painfully. David says I’ll thank him for the stretching. Oh, please help me.
It was just a normal day, you know? I’m a schoolteacher. I was a schoolteacher. I’m a “fuck toy” now. That’s what they tell me. What they laugh as they force their cocks into me. A schoolteacher, 5th grade. I left the school, went to the home to visit my grandma, then came to the gym late to avoid the crowd. I always come in late, leave at closing. A normal day. Did my routine, David there, attentive, so very attractive. Smiling. He always smiled when he looked at me. He still does.
After my workout, I hit the sauna. Towel open, leaning back, eyes closed. So impressed with myself, with my body. Touching my breasts-I’ve always thought they were too big, but others seem to like them. 34D. Touching my pussy just a little-clean shaven, soft. Ready to pull the towel shut should anyone come in, though I knew no one would. I drowsed, drifted.
Time to leave. I stood, pulled my towel around me, and reached for the door. Locked? Oh, no. I began tugging, calling out. Panic rising as my cries went unanswered. Sweating, shaking-what if they’d left for the night? Time passing, feeling faint. Would I die in here? Dear Jesus, I wish I had.
Then the door opening, strong arms lifting me from the floor. Being laid out-massage table? Weight bench? I couldn’t tell. Cool air on my bare skin. David? David. Thank goodness. My arms being pulled above my head, what was he doing? Tying me? Tying me! I struggled weakly, mumbled his name as my arms were securely bound. My head lolled over the edge as I struggled to lift it As he dragged my legs to the sides of the table, pulled my hips to the very edge of the table, commenced binding them, I began to grasp what was going on. Began to struggle. He was silent, focused, forcing my legs, one at a time, down. Securing them. I looked at him for the first time, my vision still blurred. His expression so distant. I screamed thinly.
He didn’t even look at me. Just reached into a drawer and pulled out-what was that? I didn’t know at first. He walked around the table, grasped my head, and forced my jaws open. So strong. Where was everyone, why wasn’t anyone helping me? A metal ring was forced behind my teeth, stretching my mouth open wide. Then a leather strap, something slipping through the ring and into my mouth. I was silenced. I began to cry. But, God forgive me, I was a little aroused, too. His body, so built, tanned muscle moving smoothly as he walked around me, surveying his work, examining me. I thought maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. I actually started to get wet. Oh, I hate myself for that.
He walked away, I couldn’t see him. What was he doing? And then the door opened, and I heard, I realized. More men, many men. Oh, no! I began to struggle wildly, writhing against my bonds. Hands grabbing, squeezing.
“Let’s have some order here,” David spoke with authority, “I told you all how this is going to go down-it’s going to be on film, so let’s do it right.” The men backed off, and David began giving instructions.
“You, Mike-her head. You hard? Good-wait until I tell you take it out. Don’t take your pants off, just slide them down to your thighs when I say go, okay? Remember the camera down there.” The man stood above my face, grinning like a kid in a candy store. I shook my head fiercely. No, this wasn’t happening!
“Steve, you in her cunt, wait for it. Just take your spot-you hard? Okay then. When I say go, unzip, pants around ANKLES, okay? There’s a camera right below you-don’t be nervous, we just want a good shot of you slamming into her, you good with that?” This man moved to stand between my legs, the crotch of his jeans just brushing my smooth pussy. He nodded, smiling.
“Free for all on the tits-who wants to mount up and fuck her tits? Need someone tall with strong legs-goanna be a job staying up there, don’t want any mistakes.” A man stepped forward-black, built. David looked him over, then nodded his approval. “Perfect, take your clothes off–now, I need everyone else to back off a bit, take your dicks out. Stroke ‘em, keep ‘em hard, but don’t cum.”
I moaned, pulled at the straps holding me in place for them. David moved through the room, turning on cameras, aiming, focusing. Then turned them on, one after the other.
“Go.”
Hands on my head, strap being pulled off. I began to scream wildly, whipping my head back and forth. The man wrapped his hands in my hair, held my head still. His cock pushed past my lips, I was helpless to stop it. In my mouth, salty. I shrieked around it, he laughed.
“Deeper, Mike-pull her head down further toward the floor, it’ll open up her throat,” David spoke like a teacher to a student, “I need you all the way in, so your balls are hitting her nose, you’re completely buried in her face, okay? And remember, to pull out almost all the way between strokes so the camera under can catch that full stroke. Vary it-fast, slow. Do some wiggling, the camera loves that. And make sure you come in her mouth, start in the throat then pulls forward so she chokes AND we get a money shot, some cum dribbling out. Got it?”
Mike nodded, yanked my head down toward the floor. He drove his cock deeper into my throat. I couldn’t breath, his pubic hair up my nose, my throat stretched so tight. I fought, gagging, my throat working to push him out. Oh, God, please, let me breathe! He pulled slowly back, and I drew a desperate breath before he pushed back in.
“Okay, Steve, pants down, fuck her. I want this hard, deep, and fast. Bottom out every time, really work her-hard enough that her tits are dancing, okay? Keep your hands on her hips so they don’t block the camera. And don’t get her ready-dry fucks get the best motion.”
And then a huge cock, pressing, forcing. Tearing me, oh, it hurt so bad! I screamed around the cock in my mouth, my back arched, my hips bucked against my will. I knew it was what they wanted, but oh, it hurt!!
And then the fucking. Hard, slamming me, his huge cock grinding in again and again, pummelling my cervix, my breasts jumping up and down with his vicious thrusts. Over and over he ripped into me, driving me forward so my face was fucking the swollen tool in my mouth. I gagged, writhed, choked.
“Okay, slow it down-long, slow strokes, hold inside for a few seconds-this is for both of you. Looking for good stills here,” David was pacing, watching my rape from all angles, analysing. “Okay, you-up on the table. Straddle her, put some of this oil between her tits, and fuck them hard.” He frowned as he handed over the bottle of oil, “Don’t cum until I tell you to-let me know when you are close.” The black man nodded, climbed up on my belly. His cock was giant, uncut. I was actually glad he was on my breasts and not inside me. Hot oil on my breasts, slathered between them. Then forced roughly together, his cock brushing my throat with every stroke.
Triple fucked, breasts, face, and pussy. I kept struggling-there had to be some way out of this. By my count, there were a dozen, at least. I had to escape!
“Okay, one minute!” David called out, looking at his watch, “I want you all to cum in one minute!” The thrusting became frenzied, wild, the men grunting and groaning as they fucked me. The cock in my mouth driving in and out as it fucked my face furiously, balls slapping my nose, belly pushing into my chin. The tool in my pussy slammed into me, bruising my insides with it are hammering. The man on my breasts heaved, moaned loudly as his climax approached. And then the man fucking my face came-my throat constricted as the waves of hot, sour spunk flooded my mouth. I gagged, choked as it threatened to drown me. I worked my throat, struggling to swallow the endless stream of cum. He pulled out, spewing the last of his jizz on my lips, my chin. I began to cry again as it trickled from my mouth, up my nose.
“Clear!” The huge black man laughed as his cum flew, glob after glob of thick, hot juice splattering my throat, my jaw, and my breasts. He kept thrusting, kept cumming. It ran down my chest, puddled at the hollow of my collar bones. I was soaked in his spew. I moaned, my throat rebelling at the heavy, horrible taste of cum.
“Oh, yeah!” I felt the cock in my pussy twitching, swelling. Oh, no, not inside me, please! I began to scream, my hips bucking anew, trying to dislodge him before he could erupt inside me. I don’t want to be pregnant, please, God, please don’t get me pregnant! He exploded, spraying my insides with his cum. Heat spread through me as he emptied, but his thrusts continued until he was limp. He slid out of me, wiped his cock on my thigh. I felt his hot cum oozing out of me, running across my rectum.
“Oh, there we go-sweet.” David’s voice, husky, deep. “Okay, next up!”
I began to struggle blindly. No more, Jesus, no more! My hips wiggled and jumped to avoid the impaling to come, my head whipped back and forth violently. But there was no escape-the man at my head drove brutally into me, I was gagging, choking, filled again.
“Okay, Ron, I’m going to untie her legs now-you need to be quick, grab them behind the knees, force them down toward her chest, okay? No tit fucking this time-I want to get some good cunt shots-you have her legs, you can really slam into her.”
My legs unbound, one at a time, muscles cramping hatefully. I kicked in vain as he forced my legs back, raising my hips, exposing my reddening pussy and cum covered rectum. My skin jumped as I felt him prodding, his swollen cock pushing, seeking, then driving into me. I writhed, my hips moving, back arching. My struggles drove him deep into me, and a low murmur of appreciation spread through the crowd of men waiting their turn. I was NOT going to submit quietly, I was NOT going to go limp and let them fuck on me. Oh, if I’d only known then . . .
“Tom, I want you to push as deep into her throat as you can, then hold it there-I want NO air passing, okay? That’s where the real animalistic writhing is going to come from-folks love that. Don’t worry if she dies-more sluts who’d give their eyeteeth to fuck their trainer out there.” Tears of shame as I listened, knew. “And Ron? She may piss on you, can you handle that? The longer she goes without air, the more likely it is. Looks great on camera. You okay with that?” I can only assume the man nodded. He continued to fuck me, drawing almost completely out, then slamming back into me, making my belly cramp, my pussy lips raw. And then the huge cock in my mouth driving deeper, deeper, all the way into my throat-and holding. Moving side to side a bit to maintain the stimulation, but not pulling out at all. I couldn’t breathe. Oh, God, I couldn’t breathe!
My throat worked madly, constricting, spasming around his distended manhood. The man moaned at the working my throat was giving him. I was dying-please, just let me breathe! I struggled to pull back, to move my head even a little, but his hands tangled in my hair kept my face impaled on his dick, my face crushed against his pubic hairs. My chest tightening, my belly jumping, I began to writhe wildly, hips rising and falling, jerking side to side. I bucked harder and harder-the man in my pussy didn’t even have to move, my body was fucking him on its own. The rising burn in my belly, my bladder, and then I lost control. Urine flowing out of me as my struggles weakened. I was going to pass out, I was going to die. Hot piss squirting with every jerk of my hips, every thrust that drove the cock in my pussy deeper.
“Okay, pull back.”
The hateful tool in my mouth pulled back, resting in my mouth as I dragged air in, gasping, choking.
“Now in again.”
Again, I couldn’t breathe. Again the giant blocked my airway dick. I began to struggle again, but I had no strength. I felt my bladder empty, felt the steaming urine run across my rectum. Oh, God, just kill me if that’s what you’re going to do!
I guess I passed out. When I awoke, I was tied to a hook in the ceiling, my legs held apart by a bar run between them, ankles secured, bar chained to a ring in the floor. I could barely reach the floor, tip toes supporting me, protecting my bruised wrists. Cold water, icy cold, hosing me down. I lifted my head, dragged my eyes up-David. David with a hose, spraying me, washing their cum and my own piss off me. My mouth was bound again, gag in place. My eyes were huge, tear filled, pleading.
“Ah, sweetheart, I don’t feel a damned bit sorry for you, so stop with the doe eyes,” David laughed as he trained the brutal spray on my clit, making my hips jump in pain, pleasure, and surprise. “Funny thing is, you still want me. You whore, you’d fuck me blind right now if I let you.”
Then David stepped in close, a bar of lye soap in his hand. He thrust it between my legs, roughly scrubbing my sore, raw pussy. The pain was beyond intense, It burned, was agonizing. I screamed behind the gag, body jerked and twisted to escape as he used a finger to push some of the caustic suds into my pussy. My cries became animal grunts as he began to fuck me with his burning finger. No escape. No escape.
Then the hose pushed into my pussy, blasting me clean. I was grateful for the violation, as it carried away the burning soap. David laughed at my moans of relief. And then he left me. Hanging.
When he returned, My body was dry. He hummed a tune as he reached into his pocket and pulled out clamps. I struggled as he moved in close, captured first one breast, then the other, affixing the hateful, sharply toothed clamps to my nipples. I screamed, tried to twist away. And then he knelt before me even as I writhed from the nipple torture, affixed another to my clit. Oh, Jesus, oh, it hurt so badly! My hips convulsed, twitching uncontrollably as I grunted and gasped. He stood back, admired his handiwork, then walked away. I struggled, writhed, my feet and calves cramping, agonized as I fought to support my weight. I must have passed out again.
I awoke surrounded, cameras set up, the crowd of men waiting. I moaned as the pain made its way to my brain. David speaking, giving instructions, but I couldn’t understand his words. But I understood the pressure against my ass, the hot, solid cock pushing even as another drove into my angry, raw pussy. I began to struggle, squirming to escape the ass fucking I knew was coming. I had never. Never.
I squealed as my anus was torn open, the gag muffling my cries. Deeper, deeper he thrust, until he was totally buried in my virgin ass, lifting me off the floor. Their thrusts were choreographed, staggered, first one, then the other. The pressure on the thin membrane separating them was agonizing-it felt as though they would split me open. As they approached orgasm, their thrusting became less organized, more frantic. I was bounced between them, thrown back and forth, impaled first in front, then in back. The man in my pussy began twisting the clamps on my breasts, and I tensed, writhed with each tortuous tweak. His slamming into my pussy yanked the clamp on my clit back and forth, and I screamed with it even as my body responded, my pussy began to lubricate.
“Cunt’s getting wet!” He crowed as he drilled into me, faster, faster. My breasted jiggled madly, aching as they rose and fell with the battering strokes. I screamed continuously, not just out of pain, but also out of shame at my body’s betrayal. Oh, I wanted to die. I still do.
And then they came-shouting, laughing as their throbbing cocks began to twitch, swell, and then spew their burning loads into my bleeding holes. Hot spreading through me, pressure as they filled me. Pulling out, they laughed as their spunk mingled in pink rivers down my bruised thighs. I began to cry yet again.
David unhooked the chain holding the leg bar to the floor, and I felt hopeful-for a moment. Then he hoisted the bar up and attached it to the same hook holding my wrists. I was dangling, pussy and ass wide open, dripping with cum. I struggled, hips moving violently. I don’t even know what I thought it would accomplish, only that I had to get away. I had to get away, please . . .
And then I was being lowered-helpless to avoid the elephantine cock that was waiting below. A man, huge, freakish, laying on his back, smiling. Waiting for me to be lowered onto him, impaled by him. I groaned, screamed, grunted as I thrashed in vain. The stiff, unyielding tip pressing against my ass, then ripping into me. Deeper, deeper-he was 12 inches at least, and he was soon buried to the hilt in my bowels. Oh, the agony, I squirmed, trying to dislodge him. I was stuck, literally hung up, unable to escape the stabbing of his tool in my belly. Another knelt before me, thrust viciously into my soaking pussy. Again the clamp tore at my clit, pulled it back and forth hatefully as the men thrust, rammed into me. And then a hand in my hair, yanking my head to the side, gag removed and immediately replaced with another cock. Tears of pain and horror coursed down my cheeks as I was choked, fucked, filled. Cocks twitching, filling me, my throat coated in more cum. I began to drift. It’s mostly a blur, really-gagging, struggling, being shaken with the thrusts of cock after cock.
And now here I am. Hog tied, Freakishly huge dildos in my ass, my pussy. I remember David pushing them into me, telling me I’d be thankful for the stretching, it would help me to accommodate what was to come. What? What are they going to do to me next? Please, help me! Please, just help me. Or kill me. But please, let it end. Oh, God, what’s that? The door, the door opening, the light stabbing my eyes. Who is it? What are they are going to do, please, no, just leave me alone!
Please help me. They’ve left me alone-for now. But they’ll be back. And they’ll do something even worse, even more horrible. I don’t know how that’s possible, after all they’ve done to me, to my body. But I know they’ll find a way. Find something even more terrible to drive into my pussy, to shove cruelly ups my bleeding ass. Please help me.
I am so ashamed. So humiliated. He seemed so nice, you know? Trainer at the gym, handsome, buff, funny. David. His name is David. Gentle in his guidance, his hand on my waist sending tingles through my body. I wanted him. Oh, dear God, I did, I wanted him. How was I to know he wanted me in this terrible way?
Oh, this hurts so badly! Dildos shoved inside me, filling me, stretching me so painfully. David says I’ll thank him for the stretching. Oh, please help me.
It was just a normal day, you know? I’m a schoolteacher. I was a schoolteacher. I’m a “fuck toy” now. That’s what they tell me. What they laugh as they force their cocks into me. A schoolteacher, 5th grade. I left the school, went to the home to visit my grandma, then came to the gym late to avoid the crowd. I always come in late, leave at closing. A normal day. Did my routine, David there, attentive, so very attractive. Smiling. He always smiled when he looked at me. He still does.
After my workout, I hit the sauna. Towel open, leaning back, eyes closed. So impressed with myself, with my body. Touching my breasts-I’ve always thought they were too big, but others seem to like them. 34D. Touching my pussy just a little-clean shaven, soft. Ready to pull the towel shut should anyone come in, though I knew no one would. I drowsed, drifted.
Time to leave. I stood, pulled my towel around me, and reached for the door. Locked? Oh, no. I began tugging, calling out. Panic rising as my cries went unanswered. Sweating, shaking-what if they’d left for the night? Time passing, feeling faint. Would I die in here? Dear Jesus, I wish I had.
Then the door opening, strong arms lifting me from the floor. Being laid out-massage table? Weight bench? I couldn’t tell. Cool air on my bare skin. David? David. Thank goodness. My arms being pulled above my head, what was he doing? Tying me? Tying me! I struggled weakly, mumbled his name as my arms were securely bound. My head lolled over the edge as I struggled to lift it As he dragged my legs to the sides of the table, pulled my hips to the very edge of the table, commenced binding them, I began to grasp what was going on. Began to struggle. He was silent, focused, forcing my legs, one at a time, down. Securing them. I looked at him for the first time, my vision still blurred. His expression so distant. I screamed thinly.
He didn’t even look at me. Just reached into a drawer and pulled out-what was that? I didn’t know at first. He walked around the table, grasped my head, and forced my jaws open. So strong. Where was everyone, why wasn’t anyone helping me? A metal ring was forced behind my teeth, stretching my mouth open wide. Then a leather strap, something slipping through the ring and into my mouth. I was silenced. I began to cry. But, God forgive me, I was a little aroused, too. His body, so built, tanned muscle moving smoothly as he walked around me, surveying his work, examining me. I thought maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. I actually started to get wet. Oh, I hate myself for that.
He walked away, I couldn’t see him. What was he doing? And then the door opened, and I heard, I realized. More men, many men. Oh, no! I began to struggle wildly, writhing against my bonds. Hands grabbing, squeezing.
“Let’s have some order here,” David spoke with authority, “I told you all how this is going to go down-it’s going to be on film, so let’s do it right.” The men backed off, and David began giving instructions.
“You, Mike-her head. You hard? Good-wait until I tell you take it out. Don’t take your pants off, just slide them down to your thighs when I say go, okay? Remember the camera down there.” The man stood above my face, grinning like a kid in a candy store. I shook my head fiercely. No, this wasn’t happening!
“Steve, you in her cunt, wait for it. Just take your spot-you hard? Okay then. When I say go, unzip, pants around ANKLES, okay? There’s a camera right below you-don’t be nervous, we just want a good shot of you slamming into her, you good with that?” This man moved to stand between my legs, the crotch of his jeans just brushing my smooth pussy. He nodded, smiling.
“Free for all on the tits-who wants to mount up and fuck her tits? Need someone tall with strong legs-goanna be a job staying up there, don’t want any mistakes.” A man stepped forward-black, built. David looked him over, then nodded his approval. “Perfect, take your clothes off–now, I need everyone else to back off a bit, take your dicks out. Stroke ‘em, keep ‘em hard, but don’t cum.”
I moaned, pulled at the straps holding me in place for them. David moved through the room, turning on cameras, aiming, focusing. Then turned them on, one after the other.
“Go.”
Hands on my head, strap being pulled off. I began to scream wildly, whipping my head back and forth. The man wrapped his hands in my hair, held my head still. His cock pushed past my lips, I was helpless to stop it. In my mouth, salty. I shrieked around it, he laughed.
“Deeper, Mike-pull her head down further toward the floor, it’ll open up her throat,” David spoke like a teacher to a student, “I need you all the way in, so your balls are hitting her nose, you’re completely buried in her face, okay? And remember, to pull out almost all the way between strokes so the camera under can catch that full stroke. Vary it-fast, slow. Do some wiggling, the camera loves that. And make sure you come in her mouth, start in the throat then pulls forward so she chokes AND we get a money shot, some cum dribbling out. Got it?”
Mike nodded, yanked my head down toward the floor. He drove his cock deeper into my throat. I couldn’t breath, his pubic hair up my nose, my throat stretched so tight. I fought, gagging, my throat working to push him out. Oh, God, please, let me breathe! He pulled slowly back, and I drew a desperate breath before he pushed back in.
“Okay, Steve, pants down, fuck her. I want this hard, deep, and fast. Bottom out every time, really work her-hard enough that her tits are dancing, okay? Keep your hands on her hips so they don’t block the camera. And don’t get her ready-dry fucks get the best motion.”
And then a huge cock, pressing, forcing. Tearing me, oh, it hurt so bad! I screamed around the cock in my mouth, my back arched, my hips bucked against my will. I knew it was what they wanted, but oh, it hurt!!
And then the fucking. Hard, slamming me, his huge cock grinding in again and again, pummelling my cervix, my breasts jumping up and down with his vicious thrusts. Over and over he ripped into me, driving me forward so my face was fucking the swollen tool in my mouth. I gagged, writhed, choked.
“Okay, slow it down-long, slow strokes, hold inside for a few seconds-this is for both of you. Looking for good stills here,” David was pacing, watching my rape from all angles, analysing. “Okay, you-up on the table. Straddle her, put some of this oil between her tits, and fuck them hard.” He frowned as he handed over the bottle of oil, “Don’t cum until I tell you to-let me know when you are close.” The black man nodded, climbed up on my belly. His cock was giant, uncut. I was actually glad he was on my breasts and not inside me. Hot oil on my breasts, slathered between them. Then forced roughly together, his cock brushing my throat with every stroke.
Triple fucked, breasts, face, and pussy. I kept struggling-there had to be some way out of this. By my count, there were a dozen, at least. I had to escape!
“Okay, one minute!” David called out, looking at his watch, “I want you all to cum in one minute!” The thrusting became frenzied, wild, the men grunting and groaning as they fucked me. The cock in my mouth driving in and out as it fucked my face furiously, balls slapping my nose, belly pushing into my chin. The tool in my pussy slammed into me, bruising my insides with it are hammering. The man on my breasts heaved, moaned loudly as his climax approached. And then the man fucking my face came-my throat constricted as the waves of hot, sour spunk flooded my mouth. I gagged, choked as it threatened to drown me. I worked my throat, struggling to swallow the endless stream of cum. He pulled out, spewing the last of his jizz on my lips, my chin. I began to cry again as it trickled from my mouth, up my nose.
“Clear!” The huge black man laughed as his cum flew, glob after glob of thick, hot juice splattering my throat, my jaw, and my breasts. He kept thrusting, kept cumming. It ran down my chest, puddled at the hollow of my collar bones. I was soaked in his spew. I moaned, my throat rebelling at the heavy, horrible taste of cum.
“Oh, yeah!” I felt the cock in my pussy twitching, swelling. Oh, no, not inside me, please! I began to scream, my hips bucking anew, trying to dislodge him before he could erupt inside me. I don’t want to be pregnant, please, God, please don’t get me pregnant! He exploded, spraying my insides with his cum. Heat spread through me as he emptied, but his thrusts continued until he was limp. He slid out of me, wiped his cock on my thigh. I felt his hot cum oozing out of me, running across my rectum.
“Oh, there we go-sweet.” David’s voice, husky, deep. “Okay, next up!”
I began to struggle blindly. No more, Jesus, no more! My hips wiggled and jumped to avoid the impaling to come, my head whipped back and forth violently. But there was no escape-the man at my head drove brutally into me, I was gagging, choking, filled again.
“Okay, Ron, I’m going to untie her legs now-you need to be quick, grab them behind the knees, force them down toward her chest, okay? No tit fucking this time-I want to get some good cunt shots-you have her legs, you can really slam into her.”
My legs unbound, one at a time, muscles cramping hatefully. I kicked in vain as he forced my legs back, raising my hips, exposing my reddening pussy and cum covered rectum. My skin jumped as I felt him prodding, his swollen cock pushing, seeking, then driving into me. I writhed, my hips moving, back arching. My struggles drove him deep into me, and a low murmur of appreciation spread through the crowd of men waiting their turn. I was NOT going to submit quietly, I was NOT going to go limp and let them fuck on me. Oh, if I’d only known then . . .
“Tom, I want you to push as deep into her throat as you can, then hold it there-I want NO air passing, okay? That’s where the real animalistic writhing is going to come from-folks love that. Don’t worry if she dies-more sluts who’d give their eyeteeth to fuck their trainer out there.” Tears of shame as I listened, knew. “And Ron? She may piss on you, can you handle that? The longer she goes without air, the more likely it is. Looks great on camera. You okay with that?” I can only assume the man nodded. He continued to fuck me, drawing almost completely out, then slamming back into me, making my belly cramp, my pussy lips raw. And then the huge cock in my mouth driving deeper, deeper, all the way into my throat-and holding. Moving side to side a bit to maintain the stimulation, but not pulling out at all. I couldn’t breathe. Oh, God, I couldn’t breathe!
My throat worked madly, constricting, spasming around his distended manhood. The man moaned at the working my throat was giving him. I was dying-please, just let me breathe! I struggled to pull back, to move my head even a little, but his hands tangled in my hair kept my face impaled on his dick, my face crushed against his pubic hairs. My chest tightening, my belly jumping, I began to writhe wildly, hips rising and falling, jerking side to side. I bucked harder and harder-the man in my pussy didn’t even have to move, my body was fucking him on its own. The rising burn in my belly, my bladder, and then I lost control. Urine flowing out of me as my struggles weakened. I was going to pass out, I was going to die. Hot piss squirting with every jerk of my hips, every thrust that drove the cock in my pussy deeper.
“Okay, pull back.”
The hateful tool in my mouth pulled back, resting in my mouth as I dragged air in, gasping, choking.
“Now in again.”
Again, I couldn’t breathe. Again the giant blocked my airway dick. I began to struggle again, but I had no strength. I felt my bladder empty, felt the steaming urine run across my rectum. Oh, God, just kill me if that’s what you’re going to do!
I guess I passed out. When I awoke, I was tied to a hook in the ceiling, my legs held apart by a bar run between them, ankles secured, bar chained to a ring in the floor. I could barely reach the floor, tip toes supporting me, protecting my bruised wrists. Cold water, icy cold, hosing me down. I lifted my head, dragged my eyes up-David. David with a hose, spraying me, washing their cum and my own piss off me. My mouth was bound again, gag in place. My eyes were huge, tear filled, pleading.
“Ah, sweetheart, I don’t feel a damned bit sorry for you, so stop with the doe eyes,” David laughed as he trained the brutal spray on my clit, making my hips jump in pain, pleasure, and surprise. “Funny thing is, you still want me. You whore, you’d fuck me blind right now if I let you.”
Then David stepped in close, a bar of lye soap in his hand. He thrust it between my legs, roughly scrubbing my sore, raw pussy. The pain was beyond intense, It burned, was agonizing. I screamed behind the gag, body jerked and twisted to escape as he used a finger to push some of the caustic suds into my pussy. My cries became animal grunts as he began to fuck me with his burning finger. No escape. No escape.
Then the hose pushed into my pussy, blasting me clean. I was grateful for the violation, as it carried away the burning soap. David laughed at my moans of relief. And then he left me. Hanging.
When he returned, My body was dry. He hummed a tune as he reached into his pocket and pulled out clamps. I struggled as he moved in close, captured first one breast, then the other, affixing the hateful, sharply toothed clamps to my nipples. I screamed, tried to twist away. And then he knelt before me even as I writhed from the nipple torture, affixed another to my clit. Oh, Jesus, oh, it hurt so badly! My hips convulsed, twitching uncontrollably as I grunted and gasped. He stood back, admired his handiwork, then walked away. I struggled, writhed, my feet and calves cramping, agonized as I fought to support my weight. I must have passed out again.
I awoke surrounded, cameras set up, the crowd of men waiting. I moaned as the pain made its way to my brain. David speaking, giving instructions, but I couldn’t understand his words. But I understood the pressure against my ass, the hot, solid cock pushing even as another drove into my angry, raw pussy. I began to struggle, squirming to escape the ass fucking I knew was coming. I had never. Never.
I squealed as my anus was torn open, the gag muffling my cries. Deeper, deeper he thrust, until he was totally buried in my virgin ass, lifting me off the floor. Their thrusts were choreographed, staggered, first one, then the other. The pressure on the thin membrane separating them was agonizing-it felt as though they would split me open. As they approached orgasm, their thrusting became less organized, more frantic. I was bounced between them, thrown back and forth, impaled first in front, then in back. The man in my pussy began twisting the clamps on my breasts, and I tensed, writhed with each tortuous tweak. His slamming into my pussy yanked the clamp on my clit back and forth, and I screamed with it even as my body responded, my pussy began to lubricate.
“Cunt’s getting wet!” He crowed as he drilled into me, faster, faster. My breasted jiggled madly, aching as they rose and fell with the battering strokes. I screamed continuously, not just out of pain, but also out of shame at my body’s betrayal. Oh, I wanted to die. I still do.
And then they came-shouting, laughing as their throbbing cocks began to twitch, swell, and then spew their burning loads into my bleeding holes. Hot spreading through me, pressure as they filled me. Pulling out, they laughed as their spunk mingled in pink rivers down my bruised thighs. I began to cry yet again.
David unhooked the chain holding the leg bar to the floor, and I felt hopeful-for a moment. Then he hoisted the bar up and attached it to the same hook holding my wrists. I was dangling, pussy and ass wide open, dripping with cum. I struggled, hips moving violently. I don’t even know what I thought it would accomplish, only that I had to get away. I had to get away, please . . .
And then I was being lowered-helpless to avoid the elephantine cock that was waiting below. A man, huge, freakish, laying on his back, smiling. Waiting for me to be lowered onto him, impaled by him. I groaned, screamed, grunted as I thrashed in vain. The stiff, unyielding tip pressing against my ass, then ripping into me. Deeper, deeper-he was 12 inches at least, and he was soon buried to the hilt in my bowels. Oh, the agony, I squirmed, trying to dislodge him. I was stuck, literally hung up, unable to escape the stabbing of his tool in my belly. Another knelt before me, thrust viciously into my soaking pussy. Again the clamp tore at my clit, pulled it back and forth hatefully as the men thrust, rammed into me. And then a hand in my hair, yanking my head to the side, gag removed and immediately replaced with another cock. Tears of pain and horror coursed down my cheeks as I was choked, fucked, filled. Cocks twitching, filling me, my throat coated in more cum. I began to drift. It’s mostly a blur, really-gagging, struggling, being shaken with the thrusts of cock after cock.
And now here I am. Hog tied, Freakishly huge dildos in my ass, my pussy. I remember David pushing them into me, telling me I’d be thankful for the stretching, it would help me to accommodate what was to come. What? What are they going to do to me next? Please, help me! Please, just help me. Or kill me. But please, let it end. Oh, God, what’s that? The door, the door opening, the light stabbing my eyes. Who is it? What are they are going to do, please, no, just leave me alone!
Luckytom44'S RAPE STORIE
Saturday, September 10, 2011 12:32:50 AM
Luckytom44
“Dear Heather,
I just read your latest story and, God!, what a turn on! I had to beat off half way through and again at the end, and I’m still hard as a rock! Your writing drives me right through the roof! Your stories are just so realistic, so believable, and I think I know why. It’s because you put so much of yourself into them. I can just tell that these are really your own fantasies and that you would love to live them out! I would love to help you, too. Why don’t you tell me where you live, and I’ll come and visit you. I can make all of your fantasies come true, just the way you want. I’ll rape your pussy. I’ll rape your ass. I’ll rape your mouth. I’ll fuck you till you bleed! Just tell me where to find you and I’ll give you all the fucking you want!
Hoping to hear from you soon.
Slyguy123@acl.com”
Heather sighed and shook her head as she finished reading the e-mail. Most of the messages she got were okay. Just comments on her stories, either positive or negative. I loved it; I hated it, that kind of thing. Once in a while she got a message from someone suggesting a plot line for a story. Occasionally she chatted with other Internet authors, trading ideas or commenting on each other’s stories. But on mercifully rare occasions, she got one like this. Some sicko that couldn’t separate fantasy from reality.
She had received other messages from Slyguy123. At first, they had seemed harmless. Praise for her stories. Admiration for her writing style. But slowly, over time, his true self began showing through, dark and evil. Slyguy123 wasn’t interested in fantasy. He was interested in rape. Real, terrifying, sadistic. And now he was suggesting she should tell him where she lives so he can visit her? So he can rape her? How could this idiot think she would even consider such a suggestion? This clown must have no concept of reality at all. Not a single clue.
Okay, so she wrote erotic literature for the Internet, and most of her stories dealt with rape. She wrote them because she enjoyed writing them, and because it aroused her to put her fantasies on paper. That didn’t mean she wanted some psychotic head case to actually get his hands on her. Nobody in their right mind would really want to be raped, regardless of their fantasies. In one of her stories, she had the main character, Miranda, burned at the stake at the end of the story. Did this idiot think that she wanted that to happen to her, too? Some people were just so stupid!
She deleted the e-mail without replying and gave it no further thought.
********************
Slyguy123 was sick. He was perverted and sadistic. However, in spite of what Heather thought, he was not stupid. In fact, when it came to computers, he was a genius. He had hacked into some of the most secure sites in the world and was never caught. He wrote viruses that were devastatingly lethal and unstoppable. And now, he was working on what would be his greatest achievement. He was developing a tracker.
The tracker was a program that could be appended to any e-mail message, invisible to the recipient. It would monitor the phone lines that carried the message from modem to modem, recording route changes and directories. It would monitor and track the progress of the carrier e-mail through the Internet system to its final destination. When the e-mail was opened, the tracker would immediately send itself back to the computer from which it had started. And, just like the police tracing a phone call, the tracker would return with the home address of the recipient of the original e-mail.
This would be a technological breakthrough. Once he had it perfected, he would be able to name his own price for the program. Governments, police agencies, intelligence groups, even private citizens would love to have the tracker. They wouldn’t get it, though. Slyguy123 wasn’t interested in money. He had enough to meet his needs. He wanted the tracker for other, more personal reasons.
Slyguy123 was totally obsessed with developing the tracker. He was also totally obsessed with Heather. He had copied her photograph from the website where she published her stories and had printed it out. He had numerous copies of it posted around his computer room in various sizes. One was even blown up to poster size. He thought of Heather and her delicious fantasies every day. He knew that he was meant to be with her. That he was meant to fulfill her fantasies, her dreams. And he would. He would make her see that he was right. He would make her bend to his will. All he needed was his tracker.
********************
“Dear Heather,
I had been hoping to hear from you before this. It’s okay, though. I understand why you haven’t replied to my messages. It’s because you’re shy, isn’t it? That’s why you have to write about your fantasies, isn’t it? You’re just too shy to tell anyone about them face to face. That’s okay. You won’t have to worry about that for long. Soon, my dear, soon I will be with you, and then you will no longer have to fantasize. I will rape you just like you’ve always wanted. Brutally. Viciously. Repeatedly. Oh, yes Heather, I will drive my rock hard cock into every hole that you have. I will fill you with my cum. I will rape you until you can’t stand anymore, and then I will rape you again. By the time I finish with you, you will be limp, spent and exhausted. You will love it! I’ll bet just thinking about it has you sopping wet, doesn’t it? I’ll bet you can’t wait to see me. It will not be long, my love. It will not be long.
Yours,
Slyguy123@acl.com”
Heather read the e-mail a second time and trembled. He sounded so positive, so sure that he could find her. Was there anyway that he could know where she lived? Had she inadvertently given him any clues when she had responded to the first few e-mails he had sent, the ones in which he sounded normal? She concentrated on it, thinking back. No. No, she hadn’t given him any information. Nothing that could lead him to her. But why did he sound so … so sure that he could find her?
Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he was just completely full of shit. He could be just trying to scare her, to make her feel fear. She had him pegged as being sadistic, and maybe this was just part of his sadistic little game. Try to make her afraid, try to terrify her, and then laugh and beat off thinking about her being afraid.
But what if …… what if he could find her? What if he had somehow figured out where she lived? Maybe she should call the police. Call the police and tell them that … what? That she wrote rape stories for the Internet, and now some sicko was writing to her about rape? They would probably tell her that she had to expect things like that if she insisted on writing stories about rape. They would tell her that he was just some sick asshole writing about his fantasies, just the way she wrote about hers, and there was nothing to worry about. And even if by some miracle they did believe her, what could they do? How could they find him based on nothing but an e-mail address? They couldn’t. No. There was no sense in calling the police. There was nothing they could, or would, do.
Heather read the message again. He sounded so sure of himself. So positive that he could find her. And what would happen if he did find her? She had no doubts about that. He told her quite clearly what he intended to do to her. He would rape her over and over. Rape her until he had satisfied his perverted desires. And then what? Would he allow her to live? Or would her kill her in some sick and sadistic manner? Heather thought she knew the answer, and she felt a shiver travel up her spine.
********************
Slyguy123 thought that the tracker might finally be ready. He had worked on it long and hard, and the program seemed to be functional. It was time for a test. He would send an e-mail to a friend of his, someone whose address he knew. Then, if the tracker came back with that address, he would be ready.
“Jerry,
Just thought I’d drop you a line to see what’s going on. Things here are pretty much normal. Maybe we can get together for a beer later in the week.
Sly”
It was short, but that didn’t matter. He could have sent a blank e-mail. It was the attachment that was important. Setting the cursor over the paperclip on the menu bar, he activated the pull down menu. Selecting the proper file, he double clicked on it to append it to the e-mail. In this case, however, there was no indication on the e-mail that there was any kind of attachment. It was effectively invisible.
He hit “SEND”, then lit a cigarette and sat back to wait. It shouldn’t take long. It was Sunday, and Jerry, a true computer geek, always spent Sundays glued to his screen. He wasn’t really interested in Jerry’s response. The tracker should activate itself as soon as Jerry opened the e-mail. The tracker, in fact, should return home before Jerry even finished reading the message.
He had just finished the cigarette when the small envelope appeared in the lower right corner of his screen. Opening the e-mail, he saw the message in plain text.
“Tracker complete: Address of recipient:”
But there was no address. The space where Jerry’s address should have been was blank. Slyguy123 sighed. A minor set back. The tracker had been invisible, and it had activated itself and returned to its home computer. That was the big thing. He just had to fine-tune the program. Sooner or later, he would succeed.
********************
“Dear Heather,
I am amazed that you have not yet supplied your address to me. After all, we both know that you want me to come for you, don’t we? I am the culmination of all your fantasies, all your desires. We were made to play out our drama together. Are you just playing hard to get? Do you wish me to pursue you? Will that add excitement to our game? Very well. I will play the game the way you wish. It will only make things that much better for the both of us when I sink my cock in you for the first, but not the last, time. Yes, the first time. I so look forward to the first time, my dear Heather. Soon. Soon.
Always,
Slyguy123@acl.com”
Heather shook her head in amazement. This guy was not only sick, he was delusional. He was definitely a few bricks shy of a full load. Could he honestly believe she actually wanted him to find her? Could he honestly believe she actually wanted him to rape her? It was so bizarre! So utterly bizarre!
Or could it be … could it be that he was only trying to scare her? Maybe that was how he got off. Contact women over Internet and slowly scare them. Build a terror in them over a period of time. Maybe instilling the fear of rape was enough to satisfy his warped desires. That would certainly be easier than actually trying to find someone who might be anywhere in the country. Hell, anywhere in the world, for that matter. Still …
She couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom. Was she just being silly? Worrying about nothing? She wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe that there was nothing to really fear. But she couldn’t.
********************
He spent the better part of a month working on the tracker. Slyguy123 was nothing if not patient. He went over every line of code, tweaking, fine-tuning, and adjusting. Finally, he thought he had worked out the last of the bugs. He typed a short e-mail.
“Jerry,
Did you see ‘Independence Day’ on TV? last night?
Sly”
Once more he attached the tracker program to the e-mail and hit send. Now he only had to wait until Jerry opened the e-mail. That was all it would take, the simple act of opening the e-mail.
If it only worked. He gazed at the poster-sized picture of Heather hanging from the wall. She would be his, to do with as he would. He would use her in every way imaginable, and in some ways most people wouldn’t imagine. He’d had a long time to fantasize about her, to daydream. Every day that went by, every dream he concocted, added to his plans. His imagination was running wild, and the things he planned to do to her … oh, the delicious things he planned to do to her!
And slowly, the things he did to her would become her fantasies, too. She would realize, oh so gradually, that they were really soul mates, destined to share their dark dreams. He would rape her in every way, in every orifice. And then, when he was done, there would be the final dream, the final fantasy. This time, though, it wasn’t his fantasy. It was hers. She had detailed it in one of her stories, and he knew it would be her greatest pleasure. It would be his gift to her.
He lit a cigarette with trembling hands. The thought of her, quivering and squirming beneath him, was racing through his mind. What would her voice sound like? What would it sound like as she begged and pleaded and whimpered? He was only half way through his cigarette when the envelope flashed on the screen. He opened the e-mail and read the message.
“Tracker complete: Address of recipient: 1524 Crestmont Drive, Indianapolis, Indiana.”
Perfect. The tracker was working.
********************
Heather was working on a story when the small envelope in the corner of the screen indicated that she had an incoming e-mail. Not wanting to break her train of thought, she continued typing. Whatever it was could wait. Her thoughts were flowing, and the words were fitting together so well. Her alter ego, the fictional Heather of her stories, was being brutally raped in an alley. Her attacker was reaching his limits, approaching the edge. Heather was squirming, trying to escape, when the rapist let go and flooded her insides with cum. Heather finished writing the scene, concluding the violent rape, and leaned back in her chair.
She took a deep breath to try and calm her. It always seemed strange the she should become so aroused by her own words. Still, she had taken it as her own adage that if the story line didn’t turn her on, it wouldn’t turn on her readers, either. And Heather believed she owed something to her readers. If they were going to take the time to read her stories, then she should make sure the stories were as good as she could make them.
Taking another breath, she glanced at the envelope in the corner of her screen. Maximizing the e-mail program on her screen, she saw the message was from Slyguy123.
Damn! Why didn’t he just leave her alone? Couldn’t he find someone else to torment? She hadn’t answered any of his e-mails in months. You’d think he’d be tired of this one-way conversation by now. What kind of rush could he be getting from this? Was just sending the e-mail enough to get him off? Was he so devoid of life that the mere act of sending an e-mail gave him gratification?
She tapped her fingernail on the table as she stared at the screen. Stupid bastard. Maybe she should answer this one. Maybe she should send him an e-mail that would rip him a new asshole. Let him know just how disgusting and reprehensible she thought he was. Call him every rotten, insulting name she could think of. Question his manhood, his sexual orientation. Insinuate that he was impotent, a eunuch. Maybe that would get him to quit e-mailing her.
Of course, there was always the chance that such a maneuver would backfire on her. It might irritate him and make him even worse than he was now. Maybe she should just delete the damned thing without even opening it. Just ignore him completely, not even read his sick e-mails. How hard would that be? Every time one came in from him, just delete it without opening it or reading it.
The e-mail from Slyguy123 was hi-lighted in blue. Heather moved the cursor to the “X” on the menu bar to delete the message. But if she did that, then she wouldn’t know what he was thinking, what he was planning. That is, if he actually was planning anything. He was probably just full of shit, but could Heather take that chance? It would be much better if she could get him to stop. In the most fateful decision of her life, Heather moved the cursor to the message and double clicked to open it. She sucked in her breath as she read the single line,
“It is time, Heather. I am coming for you.”
********************
It was late at night and Heather was driving home from work. Her eyes kept darting to the rear view mirrors both inside and outside the car, watching for any sign that she was being followed. For the last month, ever since receiving that last, short message from Slyguy123, she had been on pins and needles.
“It is time, Heather. I am coming for you.”
That was the last she had received from him. Not another word of any kind. For some reason, not hearing from him now seemed worse that hearing from him. At least when she was getting his e-mails, she could assume he was at home, wherever that might be. But now, with nothing coming in, where was he? Still at home? Traveling to get here?
Or could he be here already?
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was tired of his little game and decided to end it. Maybe that last message was just his swan song, one last stab of fear inflicted on his victim before moving on to someone else. Maybe he was already working on some other woman on the other side of the country. Maybe.
Heather glanced in the rearview mirror again. There was a vehicle several car lengths behind her. A truck or a van, she wasn’t sure. Had she seen it before? Something about it seemed familiar, but what? Yes, that was it. The headlights. The headlight on the passenger side was brighter than the one on the driver’s side. Had she actually noticed that earlier, or was her mind playing tricks on her? Was she being followed or not? One way to find out for sure.
At the next intersection, Heather made a right turn. Staying within the speed limit, she watched her rearview mirror. The vehicle with the mismatched headlights made the turn behind her. Okay, she thought, that’s one.
Heather approached the next intersection and made another right turn. Still within the speed limit, she again saw the other vehicle make the turn. Cool. That’s two. She was starting to feel nervous. Coincidence?
Reaching the next intersection, Heather made her third consecutive right turn. She felt sweat beading on her forehead as she watched the rearview. Once again the vehicle behind her made the turn. That’s three, she thought.
Heather approached the next intersection and once more made a right turn. She had circled the block, and was now back on the road she had been on when she first noticed the vehicle behind her. She watched her rearview. If whoever was back there also made the right turn, she would be sure that she was being followed. If that were the case, she would put the gas pedal to the floorboards and drive like hell to the nearest police station. She watched the rearview. She saw the vehicle approach the intersection and turn … left.
Heather sighed. Okay. Had this just been a case where whoever was driving that vehicle realized they were going in the wrong direction and circled the block to turn around? Or had they actually been following Heather and, realizing what she was doing, broke off? It seemed almost too coincidental that they should circle the same block as Heather unless they were following her. Still, it COULD be a coincidence. Either way, they were no longer behind her. She would stay doubly alert from now on. And she would damn sure watch for those mismatched headlights in the future.
********************
Heather stepped out of the shower and toweled off. It was nearly three months since she had heard from Slyguy123, and over two months since the incident with the vehicle with the mismatched headlights. Every day the memories of his threats had dimmed, receding into a mental distance. She was now convinced she had heard the last of him. The sick bastard had probably found some other woman to terrorize. It was time to get back to normal.
Heather enjoyed going to movies alone. She could relax and get into the stories without interruption or distraction. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her husband. She did. She just needed a little time to herself once in awhile, and going to a movie was certainly harmless enough.
Padding to the bedroom, Heather put on a black satin bra and panties. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she slowly pulled on black thigh-hi nylons. She enjoyed wearing sexy lingerie under her clothes. It made her feel pretty and desirable. It was almost an ego boost for her. Again, harmless enough. Heather put on a light blue silk blouse and buttoned it. She then pulled on a pair of navy blue slacks and pulled up the zipper. She finished the outfit with a pair of navy blue pumps.
After kissing her daughter good night and saying goodbye to her husband, Heather closed the front door behind her and walked to her car. She started the engine, moved the gearshift to “D”, and pulled into the street. It was a warm, clear night and traffic was light. She made it to the theater in less than fifteen minutes.
The theater had two parking areas, one in front and one in back. Although there were several parking spaces available in the front lot, Heather pulled around to the rear lot. She kept driving until she was at the far back end of the lot. There, she pulled into a space, moved the gearshift to “P”, and shut off the ignition.
Heather could have parked in front, but it was a little too … open … for her. She enjoyed smoking a joint to mellow out before going into the movie, and the back of the rear lot was the safest place for that. She took out the tightly rolled marijuana cigarette, placed it between her full lips, and lit it. Sucking the smoke deep into her lungs, she held it for several seconds before slowly exhaling.
Heather sat quietly, smoking her joint and letting her mind wander. Such a nice night. So relaxing. Finishing her smoke, she put the roach in the ashtray and closed it. She debated pulling the car to the front lot now, but rejected it. Such a nice night. She would enjoy the short walk to the theater. Getting out of the car, she made sure the doors were locked and started walking across the lot.
*******************
It was quite dark when Heather left the movie theater. She had thoroughly enjoyed the show and felt completely relaxed as she walked across the moonlit parking lot. She was humming quietly to herself as she reached her car. What a beautiful night, she thought.
In the midst of her thoughts, Heather felt her blood run cold. She had heard a rustling in the bushes directly behind her car. She looked around quickly. She was alone in the rear lot. Suppose it was he? Suppose he had found her? Oh, God, why hadn’t she moved her car to the front lot after she finished her joint? Why had she been so stupid to leave it all the way back here?
“Who’s there?” she called out as she rummaged in her purse for her keys, but there was no response. Her hands trembled as she searched for the keys.
“I … I have a gun!” she called out as her eyes darted left and right. It was a lie, of course, but whoever was in the bushes wouldn’t know that. Maybe it would buy her enough time to get into the car and lock the doors. Her fingers trembling, she fumbled her keys and dropped them. She heard the rustling again as she grabbed her keys from the concrete and again tried to fit them in the lock. Her heart was racing and her breathing was rapid and shallow. Come on! Come on! Get the damned door unlocked!
And then, just as she got the key into the lock, she ran out of time. She felt terror race through her and her stomach constrict as the dark shape moved out of the bushes towards her. Her eyes bulged and she wanted to scream. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be!
The figure moved into the light. Head leaning to the side, tongue dangling from his mouth. She could hear him panting. Heather leaned against the car and tried to slow her breathing as she and the dog stared at each other. And then he turned and trotted away.
Damn! That scared the shit out of me, she thought. She felt silly now. Afraid of the dark, just like a little kid. That sick bastard had her jumping at shadows. She unlocked the car door a slid in behind the wheel. She put the keys in the ignition, but didn’t start the engine. She wanted to calm down before she tried driving. Unbelievable, to be so scared by ….
… hands grabbed her from behind. Over her shoulders and under her arms. She screamed as she felt herself being lifted from the seat, her back arching as she was pulled over the back of the seat. She continued screaming as she fell headfirst into the backseat of the car.
There were hands on her, forcing her over onto her back. She lashed out, trying to rake her fingernails across the eyes of her attacker. She felt a fist smash into her face and tasted blood in her mouth. Still she fought, flailing with arms and legs.
“Stop it! Don’t do this! Oh, God, HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP ME!” She was screaming at the top of her lungs, but no one heard, no one came. She felt the hands break open the zipper on the front of her slacks. He grabbed the waistband of her slacks and panties and jerked them down over her thighs, then past her knees.
“Leave me ALONE! Oh PLEASE leave me alone!”
He pulled off her slacks and panties and threw them to the floor. Her legs free, she tried to kick him, but didn’t have the room in the cramped backseat of the car. He grabbed her blouse and tore it open, scattering buttons everywhere. Tearing her bra open, he pulled it and the remains of her blouse from her body and threw them to the floor with her slacks and panties. He threw himself on top of her, one hand grabbing a fist full of hair while the other grabbed one of her breasts and twisted cruelly.
“DON’T!” she screamed. “You’re HURTING me! Owwww! STOP it! Please STOP IT!”
He crushed his mouth to hers and forced his tongue into her mouth. She gagged as the intruder forced it’s way deep into her mouth. She had her hands against his chest, trying to push him off of her, but he was too heavy. She felt him using his knees to force her legs apart. Her body was twisting and squirming under him as she fought to escape.
He buried his face in her neck and she felt him snaking a hand between them. His hand went to her crotch, rubbing between the lips of her vagina. “Nuuhhh … oohhh … STOP!” she screamed as he jammed a finger up inside her. His mouth dropped to her breast and he viciously chewed on her nipple, sending waves of pain through her.
“DON’T! Oh please DON’T! You’re HURTING me!”
He was undoing his trousers, pulling out his cock as he prepared to rape her. She felt the fear and frustration raging through her. He was going to use her like a piece of meat, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
“Get OFF of me!” Heather screamed in vain. “Oh God, get OFF of me! You can’t DO this! You just CAN’T!”
She felt him pressing the head of his cock against her vagina. She dug her heels into the seat of the car, trying to get enough leverage to throw him off. She twisted and turned, pushed against his chest, tried to move her hips away from him. Nothing worked.
“Oh, no! Oh, please NO!” she begged as she felt him forcing her open, felt the head of his cock start to enter her. “No! I don’t … don’t want … you IN me! Let GO! Get … get OUT of me!”
He was fucking his way into her, driving deeper with each thrust of his hips. She hadn’t been ready, hadn’t been aroused, and the penetration was painful. Heather felt as if her insides were being torn open as he pounded farther and farther into her. Tears burned her cheeks as the reality of what was happening sunk in.
“No! Don’t! PLEASE … don’t! No! … No! … NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” Heather arched her back and screamed in pain as he finally drove the full length of his shaft into her body. “Oh, God, please STOP it! nuuhhh … nuuhhh … nuuhhh … Get … get … OUT of … of me! P-please! Oh, God! Oh, God!”
He was driving into her brutally, viciously. His hands roamed over her body, twisting and squeezing. Heather continued fighting, squirming and kicking, trying to push him away. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She ground her teeth. She felt the perspiration beading on her body. She cried out in pain each time he impaled her.
“No … more! … nuuhhh … nuuhhh … P-please … no … MORE! … nuuhhh … It … HURTS! … Oh God! … It … h-hurts!” Heather pleaded futilely. The animal on top of her didn’t care if he hurt her. He enjoyed hurting her. He drove into her repeatedly with long, hard strokes, using his cock as a weapon against her.
It was so dark that Heather still hadn’t been able to make out the features of her rapist. Could it be him? Could Slyguy123 have actually found her? Terror swept through her at the thought. If this were someone else, if this was a rapist who had just randomly selected Heather, then he would probably use her and leave. If it were Slyguy123, though … he would use her,and use her, and use her, and finally kill her. Oh, God please don’t let it be he! Please not him!
“Dear Heather,
I just read your latest story and, God!, what a turn on! I had to beat off half way through and again at the end, and I’m still hard as a rock! Your writing drives me right through the roof! Your stories are just so realistic, so believable, and I think I know why. It’s because you put so much of yourself into them. I can just tell that these are really your own fantasies and that you would love to live them out! I would love to help you, too. Why don’t you tell me where you live, and I’ll come and visit you. I can make all of your fantasies come true, just the way you want. I’ll rape your pussy. I’ll rape your ass. I’ll rape your mouth. I’ll fuck you till you bleed! Just tell me where to find you and I’ll give you all the fucking you want!
Hoping to hear from you soon.
Slyguy123@acl.com”
Heather sighed and shook her head as she finished reading the e-mail. Most of the messages she got were okay. Just comments on her stories, either positive or negative. I loved it; I hated it, that kind of thing. Once in a while she got a message from someone suggesting a plot line for a story. Occasionally she chatted with other Internet authors, trading ideas or commenting on each other’s stories. But on mercifully rare occasions, she got one like this. Some sicko that couldn’t separate fantasy from reality.
She had received other messages from Slyguy123. At first, they had seemed harmless. Praise for her stories. Admiration for her writing style. But slowly, over time, his true self began showing through, dark and evil. Slyguy123 wasn’t interested in fantasy. He was interested in rape. Real, terrifying, sadistic. And now he was suggesting she should tell him where she lives so he can visit her? So he can rape her? How could this idiot think she would even consider such a suggestion? This clown must have no concept of reality at all. Not a single clue.
Okay, so she wrote erotic literature for the Internet, and most of her stories dealt with rape. She wrote them because she enjoyed writing them, and because it aroused her to put her fantasies on paper. That didn’t mean she wanted some psychotic head case to actually get his hands on her. Nobody in their right mind would really want to be raped, regardless of their fantasies. In one of her stories, she had the main character, Miranda, burned at the stake at the end of the story. Did this idiot think that she wanted that to happen to her, too? Some people were just so stupid!
She deleted the e-mail without replying and gave it no further thought.
********************
Slyguy123 was sick. He was perverted and sadistic. However, in spite of what Heather thought, he was not stupid. In fact, when it came to computers, he was a genius. He had hacked into some of the most secure sites in the world and was never caught. He wrote viruses that were devastatingly lethal and unstoppable. And now, he was working on what would be his greatest achievement. He was developing a tracker.
The tracker was a program that could be appended to any e-mail message, invisible to the recipient. It would monitor the phone lines that carried the message from modem to modem, recording route changes and directories. It would monitor and track the progress of the carrier e-mail through the Internet system to its final destination. When the e-mail was opened, the tracker would immediately send itself back to the computer from which it had started. And, just like the police tracing a phone call, the tracker would return with the home address of the recipient of the original e-mail.
This would be a technological breakthrough. Once he had it perfected, he would be able to name his own price for the program. Governments, police agencies, intelligence groups, even private citizens would love to have the tracker. They wouldn’t get it, though. Slyguy123 wasn’t interested in money. He had enough to meet his needs. He wanted the tracker for other, more personal reasons.
Slyguy123 was totally obsessed with developing the tracker. He was also totally obsessed with Heather. He had copied her photograph from the website where she published her stories and had printed it out. He had numerous copies of it posted around his computer room in various sizes. One was even blown up to poster size. He thought of Heather and her delicious fantasies every day. He knew that he was meant to be with her. That he was meant to fulfill her fantasies, her dreams. And he would. He would make her see that he was right. He would make her bend to his will. All he needed was his tracker.
********************
“Dear Heather,
I had been hoping to hear from you before this. It’s okay, though. I understand why you haven’t replied to my messages. It’s because you’re shy, isn’t it? That’s why you have to write about your fantasies, isn’t it? You’re just too shy to tell anyone about them face to face. That’s okay. You won’t have to worry about that for long. Soon, my dear, soon I will be with you, and then you will no longer have to fantasize. I will rape you just like you’ve always wanted. Brutally. Viciously. Repeatedly. Oh, yes Heather, I will drive my rock hard cock into every hole that you have. I will fill you with my cum. I will rape you until you can’t stand anymore, and then I will rape you again. By the time I finish with you, you will be limp, spent and exhausted. You will love it! I’ll bet just thinking about it has you sopping wet, doesn’t it? I’ll bet you can’t wait to see me. It will not be long, my love. It will not be long.
Yours,
Slyguy123@acl.com”
Heather read the e-mail a second time and trembled. He sounded so positive, so sure that he could find her. Was there anyway that he could know where she lived? Had she inadvertently given him any clues when she had responded to the first few e-mails he had sent, the ones in which he sounded normal? She concentrated on it, thinking back. No. No, she hadn’t given him any information. Nothing that could lead him to her. But why did he sound so … so sure that he could find her?
Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he was just completely full of shit. He could be just trying to scare her, to make her feel fear. She had him pegged as being sadistic, and maybe this was just part of his sadistic little game. Try to make her afraid, try to terrify her, and then laugh and beat off thinking about her being afraid.
But what if …… what if he could find her? What if he had somehow figured out where she lived? Maybe she should call the police. Call the police and tell them that … what? That she wrote rape stories for the Internet, and now some sicko was writing to her about rape? They would probably tell her that she had to expect things like that if she insisted on writing stories about rape. They would tell her that he was just some sick asshole writing about his fantasies, just the way she wrote about hers, and there was nothing to worry about. And even if by some miracle they did believe her, what could they do? How could they find him based on nothing but an e-mail address? They couldn’t. No. There was no sense in calling the police. There was nothing they could, or would, do.
Heather read the message again. He sounded so sure of himself. So positive that he could find her. And what would happen if he did find her? She had no doubts about that. He told her quite clearly what he intended to do to her. He would rape her over and over. Rape her until he had satisfied his perverted desires. And then what? Would he allow her to live? Or would her kill her in some sick and sadistic manner? Heather thought she knew the answer, and she felt a shiver travel up her spine.
********************
Slyguy123 thought that the tracker might finally be ready. He had worked on it long and hard, and the program seemed to be functional. It was time for a test. He would send an e-mail to a friend of his, someone whose address he knew. Then, if the tracker came back with that address, he would be ready.
“Jerry,
Just thought I’d drop you a line to see what’s going on. Things here are pretty much normal. Maybe we can get together for a beer later in the week.
Sly”
It was short, but that didn’t matter. He could have sent a blank e-mail. It was the attachment that was important. Setting the cursor over the paperclip on the menu bar, he activated the pull down menu. Selecting the proper file, he double clicked on it to append it to the e-mail. In this case, however, there was no indication on the e-mail that there was any kind of attachment. It was effectively invisible.
He hit “SEND”, then lit a cigarette and sat back to wait. It shouldn’t take long. It was Sunday, and Jerry, a true computer geek, always spent Sundays glued to his screen. He wasn’t really interested in Jerry’s response. The tracker should activate itself as soon as Jerry opened the e-mail. The tracker, in fact, should return home before Jerry even finished reading the message.
He had just finished the cigarette when the small envelope appeared in the lower right corner of his screen. Opening the e-mail, he saw the message in plain text.
“Tracker complete: Address of recipient:”
But there was no address. The space where Jerry’s address should have been was blank. Slyguy123 sighed. A minor set back. The tracker had been invisible, and it had activated itself and returned to its home computer. That was the big thing. He just had to fine-tune the program. Sooner or later, he would succeed.
********************
“Dear Heather,
I am amazed that you have not yet supplied your address to me. After all, we both know that you want me to come for you, don’t we? I am the culmination of all your fantasies, all your desires. We were made to play out our drama together. Are you just playing hard to get? Do you wish me to pursue you? Will that add excitement to our game? Very well. I will play the game the way you wish. It will only make things that much better for the both of us when I sink my cock in you for the first, but not the last, time. Yes, the first time. I so look forward to the first time, my dear Heather. Soon. Soon.
Always,
Slyguy123@acl.com”
Heather shook her head in amazement. This guy was not only sick, he was delusional. He was definitely a few bricks shy of a full load. Could he honestly believe she actually wanted him to find her? Could he honestly believe she actually wanted him to rape her? It was so bizarre! So utterly bizarre!
Or could it be … could it be that he was only trying to scare her? Maybe that was how he got off. Contact women over Internet and slowly scare them. Build a terror in them over a period of time. Maybe instilling the fear of rape was enough to satisfy his warped desires. That would certainly be easier than actually trying to find someone who might be anywhere in the country. Hell, anywhere in the world, for that matter. Still …
She couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom. Was she just being silly? Worrying about nothing? She wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe that there was nothing to really fear. But she couldn’t.
********************
He spent the better part of a month working on the tracker. Slyguy123 was nothing if not patient. He went over every line of code, tweaking, fine-tuning, and adjusting. Finally, he thought he had worked out the last of the bugs. He typed a short e-mail.
“Jerry,
Did you see ‘Independence Day’ on TV? last night?
Sly”
Once more he attached the tracker program to the e-mail and hit send. Now he only had to wait until Jerry opened the e-mail. That was all it would take, the simple act of opening the e-mail.
If it only worked. He gazed at the poster-sized picture of Heather hanging from the wall. She would be his, to do with as he would. He would use her in every way imaginable, and in some ways most people wouldn’t imagine. He’d had a long time to fantasize about her, to daydream. Every day that went by, every dream he concocted, added to his plans. His imagination was running wild, and the things he planned to do to her … oh, the delicious things he planned to do to her!
And slowly, the things he did to her would become her fantasies, too. She would realize, oh so gradually, that they were really soul mates, destined to share their dark dreams. He would rape her in every way, in every orifice. And then, when he was done, there would be the final dream, the final fantasy. This time, though, it wasn’t his fantasy. It was hers. She had detailed it in one of her stories, and he knew it would be her greatest pleasure. It would be his gift to her.
He lit a cigarette with trembling hands. The thought of her, quivering and squirming beneath him, was racing through his mind. What would her voice sound like? What would it sound like as she begged and pleaded and whimpered? He was only half way through his cigarette when the envelope flashed on the screen. He opened the e-mail and read the message.
“Tracker complete: Address of recipient: 1524 Crestmont Drive, Indianapolis, Indiana.”
Perfect. The tracker was working.
********************
Heather was working on a story when the small envelope in the corner of the screen indicated that she had an incoming e-mail. Not wanting to break her train of thought, she continued typing. Whatever it was could wait. Her thoughts were flowing, and the words were fitting together so well. Her alter ego, the fictional Heather of her stories, was being brutally raped in an alley. Her attacker was reaching his limits, approaching the edge. Heather was squirming, trying to escape, when the rapist let go and flooded her insides with cum. Heather finished writing the scene, concluding the violent rape, and leaned back in her chair.
She took a deep breath to try and calm her. It always seemed strange the she should become so aroused by her own words. Still, she had taken it as her own adage that if the story line didn’t turn her on, it wouldn’t turn on her readers, either. And Heather believed she owed something to her readers. If they were going to take the time to read her stories, then she should make sure the stories were as good as she could make them.
Taking another breath, she glanced at the envelope in the corner of her screen. Maximizing the e-mail program on her screen, she saw the message was from Slyguy123.
Damn! Why didn’t he just leave her alone? Couldn’t he find someone else to torment? She hadn’t answered any of his e-mails in months. You’d think he’d be tired of this one-way conversation by now. What kind of rush could he be getting from this? Was just sending the e-mail enough to get him off? Was he so devoid of life that the mere act of sending an e-mail gave him gratification?
She tapped her fingernail on the table as she stared at the screen. Stupid bastard. Maybe she should answer this one. Maybe she should send him an e-mail that would rip him a new asshole. Let him know just how disgusting and reprehensible she thought he was. Call him every rotten, insulting name she could think of. Question his manhood, his sexual orientation. Insinuate that he was impotent, a eunuch. Maybe that would get him to quit e-mailing her.
Of course, there was always the chance that such a maneuver would backfire on her. It might irritate him and make him even worse than he was now. Maybe she should just delete the damned thing without even opening it. Just ignore him completely, not even read his sick e-mails. How hard would that be? Every time one came in from him, just delete it without opening it or reading it.
The e-mail from Slyguy123 was hi-lighted in blue. Heather moved the cursor to the “X” on the menu bar to delete the message. But if she did that, then she wouldn’t know what he was thinking, what he was planning. That is, if he actually was planning anything. He was probably just full of shit, but could Heather take that chance? It would be much better if she could get him to stop. In the most fateful decision of her life, Heather moved the cursor to the message and double clicked to open it. She sucked in her breath as she read the single line,
“It is time, Heather. I am coming for you.”
********************
It was late at night and Heather was driving home from work. Her eyes kept darting to the rear view mirrors both inside and outside the car, watching for any sign that she was being followed. For the last month, ever since receiving that last, short message from Slyguy123, she had been on pins and needles.
“It is time, Heather. I am coming for you.”
That was the last she had received from him. Not another word of any kind. For some reason, not hearing from him now seemed worse that hearing from him. At least when she was getting his e-mails, she could assume he was at home, wherever that might be. But now, with nothing coming in, where was he? Still at home? Traveling to get here?
Or could he be here already?
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was tired of his little game and decided to end it. Maybe that last message was just his swan song, one last stab of fear inflicted on his victim before moving on to someone else. Maybe he was already working on some other woman on the other side of the country. Maybe.
Heather glanced in the rearview mirror again. There was a vehicle several car lengths behind her. A truck or a van, she wasn’t sure. Had she seen it before? Something about it seemed familiar, but what? Yes, that was it. The headlights. The headlight on the passenger side was brighter than the one on the driver’s side. Had she actually noticed that earlier, or was her mind playing tricks on her? Was she being followed or not? One way to find out for sure.
At the next intersection, Heather made a right turn. Staying within the speed limit, she watched her rearview mirror. The vehicle with the mismatched headlights made the turn behind her. Okay, she thought, that’s one.
Heather approached the next intersection and made another right turn. Still within the speed limit, she again saw the other vehicle make the turn. Cool. That’s two. She was starting to feel nervous. Coincidence?
Reaching the next intersection, Heather made her third consecutive right turn. She felt sweat beading on her forehead as she watched the rearview. Once again the vehicle behind her made the turn. That’s three, she thought.
Heather approached the next intersection and once more made a right turn. She had circled the block, and was now back on the road she had been on when she first noticed the vehicle behind her. She watched her rearview. If whoever was back there also made the right turn, she would be sure that she was being followed. If that were the case, she would put the gas pedal to the floorboards and drive like hell to the nearest police station. She watched the rearview. She saw the vehicle approach the intersection and turn … left.
Heather sighed. Okay. Had this just been a case where whoever was driving that vehicle realized they were going in the wrong direction and circled the block to turn around? Or had they actually been following Heather and, realizing what she was doing, broke off? It seemed almost too coincidental that they should circle the same block as Heather unless they were following her. Still, it COULD be a coincidence. Either way, they were no longer behind her. She would stay doubly alert from now on. And she would damn sure watch for those mismatched headlights in the future.
********************
Heather stepped out of the shower and toweled off. It was nearly three months since she had heard from Slyguy123, and over two months since the incident with the vehicle with the mismatched headlights. Every day the memories of his threats had dimmed, receding into a mental distance. She was now convinced she had heard the last of him. The sick bastard had probably found some other woman to terrorize. It was time to get back to normal.
Heather enjoyed going to movies alone. She could relax and get into the stories without interruption or distraction. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her husband. She did. She just needed a little time to herself once in awhile, and going to a movie was certainly harmless enough.
Padding to the bedroom, Heather put on a black satin bra and panties. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she slowly pulled on black thigh-hi nylons. She enjoyed wearing sexy lingerie under her clothes. It made her feel pretty and desirable. It was almost an ego boost for her. Again, harmless enough. Heather put on a light blue silk blouse and buttoned it. She then pulled on a pair of navy blue slacks and pulled up the zipper. She finished the outfit with a pair of navy blue pumps.
After kissing her daughter good night and saying goodbye to her husband, Heather closed the front door behind her and walked to her car. She started the engine, moved the gearshift to “D”, and pulled into the street. It was a warm, clear night and traffic was light. She made it to the theater in less than fifteen minutes.
The theater had two parking areas, one in front and one in back. Although there were several parking spaces available in the front lot, Heather pulled around to the rear lot. She kept driving until she was at the far back end of the lot. There, she pulled into a space, moved the gearshift to “P”, and shut off the ignition.
Heather could have parked in front, but it was a little too … open … for her. She enjoyed smoking a joint to mellow out before going into the movie, and the back of the rear lot was the safest place for that. She took out the tightly rolled marijuana cigarette, placed it between her full lips, and lit it. Sucking the smoke deep into her lungs, she held it for several seconds before slowly exhaling.
Heather sat quietly, smoking her joint and letting her mind wander. Such a nice night. So relaxing. Finishing her smoke, she put the roach in the ashtray and closed it. She debated pulling the car to the front lot now, but rejected it. Such a nice night. She would enjoy the short walk to the theater. Getting out of the car, she made sure the doors were locked and started walking across the lot.
*******************
It was quite dark when Heather left the movie theater. She had thoroughly enjoyed the show and felt completely relaxed as she walked across the moonlit parking lot. She was humming quietly to herself as she reached her car. What a beautiful night, she thought.
In the midst of her thoughts, Heather felt her blood run cold. She had heard a rustling in the bushes directly behind her car. She looked around quickly. She was alone in the rear lot. Suppose it was he? Suppose he had found her? Oh, God, why hadn’t she moved her car to the front lot after she finished her joint? Why had she been so stupid to leave it all the way back here?
“Who’s there?” she called out as she rummaged in her purse for her keys, but there was no response. Her hands trembled as she searched for the keys.
“I … I have a gun!” she called out as her eyes darted left and right. It was a lie, of course, but whoever was in the bushes wouldn’t know that. Maybe it would buy her enough time to get into the car and lock the doors. Her fingers trembling, she fumbled her keys and dropped them. She heard the rustling again as she grabbed her keys from the concrete and again tried to fit them in the lock. Her heart was racing and her breathing was rapid and shallow. Come on! Come on! Get the damned door unlocked!
And then, just as she got the key into the lock, she ran out of time. She felt terror race through her and her stomach constrict as the dark shape moved out of the bushes towards her. Her eyes bulged and she wanted to scream. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be!
The figure moved into the light. Head leaning to the side, tongue dangling from his mouth. She could hear him panting. Heather leaned against the car and tried to slow her breathing as she and the dog stared at each other. And then he turned and trotted away.
Damn! That scared the shit out of me, she thought. She felt silly now. Afraid of the dark, just like a little kid. That sick bastard had her jumping at shadows. She unlocked the car door a slid in behind the wheel. She put the keys in the ignition, but didn’t start the engine. She wanted to calm down before she tried driving. Unbelievable, to be so scared by ….
… hands grabbed her from behind. Over her shoulders and under her arms. She screamed as she felt herself being lifted from the seat, her back arching as she was pulled over the back of the seat. She continued screaming as she fell headfirst into the backseat of the car.
There were hands on her, forcing her over onto her back. She lashed out, trying to rake her fingernails across the eyes of her attacker. She felt a fist smash into her face and tasted blood in her mouth. Still she fought, flailing with arms and legs.
“Stop it! Don’t do this! Oh, God, HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP ME!” She was screaming at the top of her lungs, but no one heard, no one came. She felt the hands break open the zipper on the front of her slacks. He grabbed the waistband of her slacks and panties and jerked them down over her thighs, then past her knees.
“Leave me ALONE! Oh PLEASE leave me alone!”
He pulled off her slacks and panties and threw them to the floor. Her legs free, she tried to kick him, but didn’t have the room in the cramped backseat of the car. He grabbed her blouse and tore it open, scattering buttons everywhere. Tearing her bra open, he pulled it and the remains of her blouse from her body and threw them to the floor with her slacks and panties. He threw himself on top of her, one hand grabbing a fist full of hair while the other grabbed one of her breasts and twisted cruelly.
“DON’T!” she screamed. “You’re HURTING me! Owwww! STOP it! Please STOP IT!”
He crushed his mouth to hers and forced his tongue into her mouth. She gagged as the intruder forced it’s way deep into her mouth. She had her hands against his chest, trying to push him off of her, but he was too heavy. She felt him using his knees to force her legs apart. Her body was twisting and squirming under him as she fought to escape.
He buried his face in her neck and she felt him snaking a hand between them. His hand went to her crotch, rubbing between the lips of her vagina. “Nuuhhh … oohhh … STOP!” she screamed as he jammed a finger up inside her. His mouth dropped to her breast and he viciously chewed on her nipple, sending waves of pain through her.
“DON’T! Oh please DON’T! You’re HURTING me!”
He was undoing his trousers, pulling out his cock as he prepared to rape her. She felt the fear and frustration raging through her. He was going to use her like a piece of meat, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
“Get OFF of me!” Heather screamed in vain. “Oh God, get OFF of me! You can’t DO this! You just CAN’T!”
She felt him pressing the head of his cock against her vagina. She dug her heels into the seat of the car, trying to get enough leverage to throw him off. She twisted and turned, pushed against his chest, tried to move her hips away from him. Nothing worked.
“Oh, no! Oh, please NO!” she begged as she felt him forcing her open, felt the head of his cock start to enter her. “No! I don’t … don’t want … you IN me! Let GO! Get … get OUT of me!”
He was fucking his way into her, driving deeper with each thrust of his hips. She hadn’t been ready, hadn’t been aroused, and the penetration was painful. Heather felt as if her insides were being torn open as he pounded farther and farther into her. Tears burned her cheeks as the reality of what was happening sunk in.
“No! Don’t! PLEASE … don’t! No! … No! … NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” Heather arched her back and screamed in pain as he finally drove the full length of his shaft into her body. “Oh, God, please STOP it! nuuhhh … nuuhhh … nuuhhh … Get … get … OUT of … of me! P-please! Oh, God! Oh, God!”
He was driving into her brutally, viciously. His hands roamed over her body, twisting and squeezing. Heather continued fighting, squirming and kicking, trying to push him away. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She ground her teeth. She felt the perspiration beading on her body. She cried out in pain each time he impaled her.
“No … more! … nuuhhh … nuuhhh … P-please … no … MORE! … nuuhhh … It … HURTS! … Oh God! … It … h-hurts!” Heather pleaded futilely. The animal on top of her didn’t care if he hurt her. He enjoyed hurting her. He drove into her repeatedly with long, hard strokes, using his cock as a weapon against her.
It was so dark that Heather still hadn’t been able to make out the features of her rapist. Could it be him? Could Slyguy123 have actually found her? Terror swept through her at the thought. If this were someone else, if this was a rapist who had just randomly selected Heather, then he would probably use her and leave. If it were Slyguy123, though … he would use her,and use her, and use her, and finally kill her. Oh, God please don’t let it be he! Please not him!
Crime
Wednesday, August 31, 2011 8:49:16 PM
Once there was a grl i herd about she was about 13 her father raped her and when she told her mom her mom kicked her out because she wanted the dad to her self and she was jealouse. So the girl went to the policeand told them. The cops were on the way to pick up th father and the girl was on the way to school the cops thought shed be safe there but her dad came to her school shot her in the head, staped her repetedly then raped her dead body he was sent to jail for life with a chance of no perroll.SO STAND UP AND BE HEARD, DO THE WRITE THING BECAUSE IT'S RIGHT!!!
Thursday, August 4, 2011 10:06:43 PM
I am a teenage girl and my blogs will be stories about books i would like to write so i hope u enjoy!
shyanne potts
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