My Rape: Act 01

"Time to pee."

He guided me unerringly to the bathroom and the toilet. I felt him watching while I stripped down my slacks and sat. I gushed like a garden hose for a few seconds. The relief made me shiver. I felt for the toilet paper and cleaned up after myself. I flushed and tried to stand but his hand kept me on the pot.

"Hold still."

He found my strap-on heels and removed them, tossing them with dull thunks away from us. He then pulled my slacks and panties off my feet leaving me naked from the waist down.

"Stand up." He whispered.

I did. His hands found my legs and ran up one thigh and down the other. It was like a buyer checking a horse's legs for heat and I was the horse. Then a different thought appeared in my brain, like an owner checking a female slave's legs to see if they were strong. The thought took my breath away.

He maneuvered me out of the little alcove where the toilet was and turned me, towards the bath, I thought. I felt his fingers unbuttoning the back of my blouse. His thick fingers were hot on my back. At the bra strap, he stopped and unhooked it. I felt the bra go limp around me and my breasts sighed inside the soft satin fabric. When the blouse was loose, he pushed it forward off my shoulders. I pulled each sleeve off my hands and dropped it. I felt him bend and pick it up. A rattle told me he'd found a metal hanger and was hanging it up. That struck me as odd but I left it alone, liking the comfort it offered, like he cared for my Donna Caron fashion statement and didn't want to leave it on the floor. That was nice.

Of course, now I was nude. For a moment, I stood still. The stocking wrapped half around my ear so I wasn't sure I could hear that well. When his hands found me, I shuddered with sexual arousal. I swear I could feel his eyes on me, realizing only when he touched me that I'd heard the soft snap of the rocker light switch that turned on the bathroom light. I could see nothing. Knowing I was standing before this man utterly naked in full light affected me. I didn't know what to do with my hands, I had the vague idea that I wished he'd tie me so I didn't seem so utterly complicit in this situation. As it was, it was like he was my elicit lover and I was engaging in this for both our pleasure.

Lay back and enjoy it.

Goddamn those words were getting to me, like a final temptation before I lay down and begged for him to fuck me like I wanted. I skirted along the neighborhood of fear and told myself I could enjoy sex with a stranger.

"You should tie me up." I said softly, wondering if he could hear me.

His hands had been resting on my waist. Now, almost in response to my words, they moved to my breasts. They bounced my breasts, still standing up despite two girls sucking on them, well three if you count... I shuddered. He measured their weight, bouncing them gently with each hand. Abruptly he palmed them both, crushing them both against my chest.

"You want me to tie you up?" He asked, his voice suddenly rough.

"Oh yes." I managed to say, realizing that my voice was raw with emotion. I'd gasped out the syllables. Shit, my own voice made me horny. I sounded like I was begging for it, even to my own ears. Was I? I asked that question but avoided the answer, distracted by having my nipple pinched.

Without conscious thought, my hands found his wrists. I wasn't trying to control his hands or what they did to me. I wanted them on my body, and that realization rattled around in me like a pearl dropped into an empty sink. I think I needed to hold onto his wrists for balance. The feel of his thumbs and fingers pinching my nipples made me dizzy. I suddenly couldn't breathe. My hands clutched at his wrists and despite the pleasure swirling around me, I pulled his hands from my breasts.

"You want me to tie you up?" He asked again, his voice soft, reasonable. His hands twisted and caught my arms by the wrists. He pulled my arms up over my head, lifting me up onto my tip toes. I could tell he was taller than me. I was naked and he had me stretched up.

Then he kissed me.

His lips brushed my lips. My mouth opened automatically. I felt it, my breath was hot, even on my own lips. He kissed me harder. I felt the merest brush of his chest against my nipples. I suddenly couldn't breathe and not because he had my arms stretched up over my head. I opened my mouth wider and his tongue slid inside. The erotic feel of his mouth on mine shot through me like a jolt of electricity. It left a trail of tingling sensations around me body. His hands relaxed over my head, separated my hands and pulled them down to the small of my back, all without releasing my mouth. He was kissing me, gently, erotically. I couldn't help it. I responded. I felt the tingling reach my pussy and I wanted to be touched there, at my clitoris and then inside. I wanted his lips on my breasts. I wanted him mounted between my legs, his cock hard inside me, thrusting deeply, filling me with that delicious satisfaction of being pierced fully with a man's hard cock, surrounded by the aura of his desire to have me, to be in me coupled with actually being inside me. Being desired was almost as wonderful as actually being had. With some men, that's all you get, that whiff of desire.

I groaned into his mouth, my hands pinned behind me.

The kiss vanished and he twisted me around, holding my wrists crossed behind me. He moved my right hand down from my back. My hand encountered the solid arch of his erection inside his pants. They were khakis, I imagined. His cock was certainly hard and very large. My god, it was half again as long as John's or any other cock I'd encountered and as big around as maybe a coke can. I shivered. My hand groped for him, sizing him up, imagining him pushing into me but I didn't need to imagine that, did I? He'd had me, been inside me, thrust deep into my slick, wanton body! I hadn't paid attention to his size at that moment but now, now I was in more of a mind to appreciate what he brought to the table, or to the bed, if you like, to me, for me, I imagined, just to distill the fear out of the moment.

By that point, I'd fully surrendered to the situation. I was laying back, determined to enjoy what he did to me. Determined to make him want me, without giving any thought to the consequences of such a choice. Was it a choice? Did I decide to have sex with this stranger or was it imposed on me? A luscious reality that I did nothing to resist once I was blindfolded or naked or bound.

He bound my arms behind me with a length of nylon. My crossed wrists rested on the slope of my fine ass. I have always been proud of my ass because it isn't flat, I cast a very nice shadow and I have noticed men eying me with lust and women eying me with envy. I was conscious of my ass. Suddenly I was conscious of being nude in front of him as I hadn't been to that point. I groaned. I was feeling things a woman like me had no name for. I imagined, later actually, that what I felt was a stripper's thrill, the feeling a woman gets when she first exposes her tits to a room full of men ready to tuck bills into her g-string, the feel of the brass pole between her legs as she humps her pussy against it, chasing a vanishing thrill echoing in her body. Just like that I was so aroused I could barely breathe.

Lay back and enjoy it. Lay back, hell, I was ready to mount him if he didn't mount me pretty soon.

He took hold of me by the elbows and guided me forward. I took little steps, suddenly confused about where I was or where he wanted me to go. I was ready for bed, ready to be bent over it and entered from behind. I felt a little dribble of liquid streaking down one thigh. I shuddered, suddenly unwilling to let him understand the effect this was having on me, unwilling to let him know what sort of woman I was. What sort of woman was I? Aroused as I was by a rapist in my house, parading me around naked, touching my body like the owner of a strip joint doing the first private interview, the answer seemed pretty clear.

The shower came on.

"Oh, of course." I said, like I'd been asked to guess what happened next and I fumbled it.

"Where are the towels?" He asked. "I hate to get out of a shower and drip water everywhere."

I directed him to the linen closet. I waited patiently, my arms tied behind me, consciously arching my back to make my breasts look better. I heard a faint rattle and then the sound of a zipper descending.

My god, he's getting undressed. The shower had gotten hot, the door was open right in front of me. I could feel the steam boiling out of it, coating the front of my body with its wet beads. Moment's later he steered me into the shower. It was large enough for both of us. He found my loofah and he proceeded to soap me up from chin to shins. I just stood still, letting him clean me. I had the thought that except for being tied and blindfolded, this might be how a slave would attend a queen. I amended this, quickly though. It was how a slave would be prepared to be fucked by her master.

When he finished soaping me, he used his hands to smooth water down my body, over my breasts, down my legs clear to my knees and then all over my back and ass. It wasn't really sexual, just frankly practical. When he was done, he moved me to the side and put my shoulders against the wall. I stood there while he washed himself. I intuited that from the way the water fell around us, the sounds it made. He even shampooed his hair. He finished and I expected the water to stop but instead I felt his hands on my belly.

He ran them down my sides to my waist and onto the swell of my hips. Immediately the sexual feelings returned. Then I felt him kneeling before me and I couldn't breathe. I dreaded what he was going to do next. I dearly dreaded it but not from hate. If he did that to me, what I dreaded, I might just follow him home and curl up on his doorstep until he let me in and used me for sex again.

Then he did it.

His face pressed between my legs. Instinctively I cocked my hips forward, rolling them up so his tongue could penetrate me more easily. He had no hesitation. He licked my vagina from bottom to top with a long, loving swipe of his very long, very strong tongue. I trembled with desire, the desire to have him inside me. Fuck, by then, anything would have been better than nothing, even his thick, callused fingers. It was at that moment that I noticed his calluses, rough patches of hard skin that rasped over my soft skin, scoring it wherever they went, leaving contrails of fire in the firmament of my body.

I was fully aroused inside and out by now. I had lost track of the situation, no longer caring who this was, why he was in my house but focusing only on the desire to have him consummate this arousal; my god, I wanted to come! The thought sprang to life in my brain and I gasped, fighting the realization but surrendering to his tongue pushing into me. It was alive, hot, hotter even than the shower water splattering around me. His hands and their little hard bits of skin grasped me by the thighs and held me while he pushed his face between my legs.

"Oh my god!" I cried out into the noise of the shower. My ass twitched, punching my pussy at his face. His tongue ran deep into me and then curled up inside of me. I grunted. I felt it, the first tendrils of orgasm licking at me from the inside out. Then the bastard's tongue left me. He sat back, hands still on my thighs. He got to his feet. His hard cock swept across my belly once, leaving a hot streak on my skin. When his hands pushed on my shoulders, I understood. Quid pro quo, it was my turn to use my mouth.

He helped me to my knees, steadying me with his strong hands. I swear without even the merest conscious thought, I opened my mouth and extended my tongue over my lower teeth like a fucking red carpet. Immediately, I felt the velvet head of his cock against my tongue. I closed my mouth and sucked on the wet head, tasting the clean taste of water mixed with the musk of his body, swirled together into a fine liqueur. I sucked on his cock, pulling more of it into my mouth. I felt the tight skin of the shaft on my lips and I licked to one side and then the other.

His hand knotted in my hair. I have shoulder-length brown hair but it was wet now and when he got a good grip on it, I knew what he wanted. He pushed against my face, his cock went deeper. I tried to breathe but got water down the wrong pipe. I spasmed, choking. He released me, letting me back off his cock. I sputtered, getting water up my nose. I felt ashamed, sorry that I couldn't swallow his cock and make him come.

The realization hit me like a slap, I wanted to taste him, to have him come down my throat. I'd never done that before and I wanted to, badly. I couldn't ask John to come in my mouth because then it'd be a thing and I'd have to do I tall the time. I wasn't ready to do I tall the time. I located his cock with my lips again and rose up on my knees, higher this time so I could tilt my face down and keep water out of my nose. I inhaled. His cock slid into my mouth. I felt him hesitate but I refused to stop. I pushed down onto his cock. I felt my balance shift, my hands still bound behind me and blindfolded, this was a strictly kinesthetic endeavor. His hand snarled in my hair actually steadied me. I pushed down. His cock head ran along the roof my mouth and left a trail of tingling sensation I felt clear down in my pussy, like the two were directly connected. I tilted my head again, breathed carefully through my nose and pushed down onto his cock.

It was every-cock. Not any particular cock, except that it was the one in my mouth, the one blocking the air in my throat, hot and throbbing. I sucked for a moment, evacuating all the air around it so my skin sealed around it like a plastic bag and then I released and pushed harder. I felt his cock head sink past my glottal and into my throat. I relaxed as I had read about it, and pushed again. I was running short on air by now but I wanted to feel his body against my face, his abdomen on my forehead, my nose in his pubic hair, if he had any. He did. It tickled me wetly. I felt him against my cheekbones as though he were concave and I were leaning into the depression. I felt the need to breathe convulse me and I yanked back.

"Oh Jesus Christ!" He cried out from somewhere above me. His hand pulled me off his cock. He hauled me roughly to my feet, turned me to face the shower wall. Water coursed over me. I was panting, gasping for new air when he entered me and stopped my body from recovering. I leaned against the wall, the tile was cold against my tits and made me gasp even as he pierced into me. His cock penetrated me from behind with a great thrust. I twisted my hands between us as he thrust into me, making way for him inside me. I had no idea I was so slick and ready to be entered. He shoved into me and I felt him lifting me as he rose up behind me, piercing me with his cock. I groaned, my body convulsed around his cock and I was just on the edge of heaven when he pulled out of me.

"No." I growled, then clamped my jaw shut. I couldn't let him know what was happening inside me, the lust roared in me and I had no way to know if he could see it, since I could not see his face. I had some impression of it when he was eating me. He had prominent cheek bones because I felt them, against me, while his tongue was inside me. He had a long nose so he wasn't Asian.

Now, however, I was once more mounted on his cock. No, I wished I was and the thought consumed me. I was empty, my insides writhed with desire, wishing to have him inside me once more. I kept my mouth shut though.

He turned off the water. Then he turned it on again. He bent and sucked at one of my tits, my right one. The water ran down my chest and he slurped and kissed and licked it. When he shut off the water and left it, I moaned.

"What about the other one?" I asked plaintively. It just came out. "I'll walk crooked if you leave me like this."

He grasped me by the chin and tipped my head back. I expected him to to kiss me. Fuck, I wanted him to kiss me. My lips tingled with the feeling of it, the kiss, hard and possessive, his tongue pushing past my lips. When he didn't kiss me, the sexual tension clicked one notch higher, tighter, more intense.

"I said I'd fuck you." He said.

I felt it, the big "but" in his tone.

"But I'm not a rapist. I'm not that guy. I am a thief but not a rapist."

Jesus fuck me sideways, now you tell me? The thought bumbled around inside me. He sure seemed like a rapist, albeit a rather polite, clean, and even polite rapist. I struggled to find out what this meant, what I wanted it to mean. I had that feeling of elation that I was going to escape with a very nice shower followed or rather swamped by the throbbing disappointment that I wasn't going to be raped, that I wasn't going to have sex with him. I mewled.

I did. I know it seems crazy but I mewled, regret dripping off me with the water in the sudden, wet silence.

"Unless." He spoke it distinctly. The word hung between us.

I had a thought. My god, his cock was huge and I had sucked it completely in my mouth! His was by far the largest cock I'd ever sucked, on my list of three, no, four. I wasn't vastly experienced, and that thought felt like regret humming in my chest. Unless. He'd spoke that word.

"Unless what?" I repeated the word, a sexual mantra, wanting to feel the syllables on my lips and they lingered there as sensuous as the skin of his cock, the cushion of the head, soft on the end of that hard spike.

He chuckled.

"Unless you want me to."

"You can't make me want to be raped. If I want it, it isn't rape." I growled at him.

"Can't rape the willing." He muttered, quoting someone, Miss Jenkins, probably.

Fuck me, he was asking permission to fuck me! The realization sloshed through me like spilled soup at a formal dinner party. Suddenly, I felt naked, exposed, used and at his mercy. I felt the encroaching tendrils of fear creeping up my legs. I shook myself. He had to fuck me. He had to want me, take me, use me and without my assent. He had to rape me now. I trembled with frustration, realizing that I couldn't demand that of him. He had to arrive there on his own. Specifically, he had to rape me but I feared the anger that is usually associated with that. Anger meant violence and I'd avoided it so far and I wanted to avoid it further. That brought me to the reason I needed the weekend apart from my family, well, at least my husband and children.

He still had a hold of my chin. The "unless" hovered in the air about us like a swarm of bees, as yet friendly but potentially dangerous and violent.

I shook my chin loose. His hand found it and held my face, pointing it but since I couldn't see, I didn't know what I was facing.

"You must be gone by tomorrow because my sister-in-law is coming...to...a...visit." Suddenly, I was thinking about the future in less black and white terms, the terms associated mostly with life and death. I was thinking of tomorrow. I had hope. I dared not let him know or he might snatch it away. Still, I thought perhaps I could lure him into being what I needed him to be or scare him away.

"She, my sister-in-law is a right nasty bitch. She, before I married her brother, she caught me in bed with one of her friends, one of her girl friends. Now, she threatens to tell my husband unless I, unless we, unless..." I snatched the word out of the air and hung on, using it for my own purposes.

"Unless what?" He asked softly, his voice hard as his cock now pocking against my side. He pulled a little at my chin. I straightened my spine.

"Unless I have sex with her." I said, my voice breaking just the right amount.

"Holy shit." The guy breathed the words into my face. I smelled his breath, it was sweet like he'd had a mint. Funny I hadn't noticed when he kissed me. I should have. I felt the tingle in between my legs. "Is she a lesbian?" He asked, his voice tight with anticipation.