Stephanie

"Come on, Steph, we've got to get going," her roommate, Amy, called to her through the door to her room.

"Just a minute," she called back, taking one last look at herself in the the full-length mirror as she buttoned up her white silk gloves.  At 5'3" and 110 lbs, she was a slight girl, with a slim Asian figure.  She felt her face warm as she looked at the costume she had chosen.  Her neck was encircled by very simple, plain white silk chocker, offsetting her black hair and dark eyes beautifully.  A spaghetti strap halter top, leaving her back criss-crossed with straps, pulling tight against her b-sized breasts, her nipples hard through the soft fabric as she had eschewed a bra, the white silk making her shoulders and arms stand out.  A flash of her flat, toned stomach peeked between her top and the full-length double-slit white silk skirt she was wearing, exposing the sides of her lean, sexy legs, her calves shaped beautifully by a pair of 4 inch white heels.  She turned to the side and looked down at the outside of her right thigh, where she had had her friend paint an elaborate, stylized 'K', clearly visible through the slit on the skirt.

"What are you supposed to be, again?" Amy asked as Stephanie joined her in the living room of their apartment.

"Oh, just a gyrl," she smiled.

"Never mind.  The haunted house at Bowles hall started a while ago.  We're meeting up with Jeff when we get there," Amy said, distracted as she headed out the door.

They left, walking down from their North-Side apartment and cutting through the campus, the streets and the campus filled with other college students out for Halloween night.  Stephanie kept her eyes forward, happy that her skin tone could hide her blush, wondering if any of the people walking by recognized what she was dressed as, the excitement of exposing herself like this, even if it was on Halloween, keeping her warm in the cool night air.  Of course, most people would probably be looking at Amy, in her fembot outfit, her tight Asian body seemingly poured into silver hotpants and the silver bra/halter.

"Jeff," Amy called out when the had arrived and spotted him milling about among the crowd waiting to get into the haunted house.  Steph stood back a bit as Amy ran up to him and they embraced, Amy's head turning up as he bent down to kiss her, their lips locking, his hands roving over her body as Steph watched, feeling jealous and exposed and excited all at the same time.

"Hey Steph," Jeff greeted her as he came up for air, his arm possessively around Amy, his pirate costume suiting him.

"Hey Jeff."

"I like your costume," he made a motion with his hand to say she should turn to show the whole outfit to him.  She obliged without hesitation.  She liked Jeff, even though Amy thought he was too controlling, and blushed again when she saw the way he was looking at her, his eyes seeming to bore into hers as she finished her twirl.

"Very, very sexy, Steph."

"Hey," Amy said, punching him in the side.

He turned his attention to his girlfriend.  "Nobody holds a candle to my little fembot," he said, leaning down to kiss her again, his hand in her hair.

They waited until a few more of their friends showed up, Steph glowing in the general excitement of the night.  As she chatted and laughed with her friends, she couldn't stop thinking about how exposed she was, how much of herself she was showing to the world with her costume, laughing off her friends' attempts to get her to tell them what she was dressed up as, simply responding, "Just a gyrl," and changing the subject.

After she had made her way through the haunted house, she rejoined Amy and Jeff.  She needed to find a restroom.  Jeff pointed her to a side door, telling her that there were only a few rooms down there, and there wouldn't be too many people using that dorm bathroom.  She thanked him and followed his directions.

She was surprised at how quiet it was once the door shut behind her and she found herself in hall.  She walked forward and took a right, finding walking past a single room--she guessed there were no more than 6 on this floor, and turning into the bathroom.  She was drying her hands, feeling the booming noise through the floor above of the haunted house through her body when Jeff came through the door.

"Hey Jeff," she started, startled when he grabbed her shoulders, pushing her back to the corner of the room.

"What are you doing?  What's going on?" she practically shouted, starting to struggle as he pushed her into a shower stall, her feet twisting in her heels as she stumbled over the step-down, her hands pushing against his chest, her heart starting to race as adrenaline flooded her body.

She gasped as her head hit the tiles on the back of the shower as he pushed her forcefully against the wall, his head coming down, his lips trying to press against hers as she twisted her head away, fighting him, her terror and hysteria growing.

"No!  No!  Stop it."

"Kajira don't say no," he said, his fingers twining in her hair, holding her head in place, his body pressing hers against the cold tile, his heat seeming to burn her.

The word struck her like a blow, and she gasped again as he tightened his fingers in her hair, her soft red lips parting as humiliation seemed to suffuse her body, making her face burn, her stomach clench, and a dark, horrible excitement flood her.  He KNEW.  Oh God he KNEW, she thought wildly as his lips met hers hard, bruising them, his tongue sending chills through her as he forced it into her mouth.  His hand was hot on her thigh, the thigh with the 'K' symbol on it, she realized, almost moaning into his mouth at the realization, and she trembled as his hand moved between her legs, his fingers sliding past the thin fabric of her thong to slip easily into her damp, virgin pussy.

She choked a grunt of surprise as his thumb found her clit, shocking her with the sensations flooding her body as he continued to assault her body.

"That's a good little slave girl," he said, breaking the kiss, slipping his fingers from inside her, his lips finding her neck, his breath hot and thrilling against her flesh, "nice and wet for me."

Shame filled her at his words--she was wet.  She had been ever since she had put on her costume, wet with the excitement of exposing herself, of showing the world her darkest desires.  She was shaking now, trembling as she felt him working on his pants, sliding them down his legs, his lips sending flashes of burning excitement down her neck and through her body.  She wanted to yell 'Stop!', to push him away, to push by him and escape among the crowd above, but it was happening too fast, everything was happening too fast.  She couldn't control her body, couldn't make it move.  He was in total control, and the thought sent a shudder through her and seemed to make her cunt throb with pleasure.

She was practically hyperventilating now, her gaze over his shoulder, realizing for the first time that he had slid the shower curtain closed as he lifted up her leg, holding it under the knee, opening her up.  The front panel of her dress was pushed aside, and then she felt it even as he covered her mouth again with his, his cock pressing up against her cunt, his tongue violating her mouth again, her trembling seeming to increase.

He surged into her with a single stroke, and she stifled a scream, surprise and shock shaking her as she was penetrated for the first time, the pain a distant second to the heat that seemed to be burning through her body.  She was stunned, pinned to the wall of a shower stall, her leg lifted in the air, as he fucked into her with hurried, brutal strokes.  She was being raped.  Raped.  The thought seemed to send an explosion through her body, and she came, hard, so hard it almost hurt, her head twisting away from his, a long, defeated moan torn from her body as she felt her cunt spasm around the hard, hot meat that was violating, raping her, her whole body shaking, her hands finding his shoulders, gripping them in her pleasure.

She felt him stop, shudder, and moan, and she knew he was cumming, cumming into her; her rapist was cumming into her, and she came again, tears running down her cheeks as pleasure rocked her slender body.

Then he was out of her, and she was left leaning against the wall, limp, spent, her eyes half-closed.  He looked at her and said, "Red silk for you, now."  Then he was gone, leaving her there, leaving her as if she were nothing more than a slave, a kajira.  Excitement flooded through her, followed by shame, humiliation, and fear, fear of discovery, fear that Amy would find out, that her parents would, that she would be shamed.  It was all mixed up, and she was frightened by the intensity of it.

She staggered out of the shower and went into a stall, her cunt sore and damp, his cum starting to slide from within her, making a mess of her crotch and thighs.  She closed her eyes as she cleaned herself, her thinking that she had been raped, raped by Jeff.  Jeff had seen her, seen her dressed as a kajira and had KNOWN.  He had known and he had taken her, raped her.  Her fingers were on her clit as she ran those thoughts through her head over and over, crying even as she brought herself to orgasm one more time.

It seemed to calm her, and she stood, straightened her clothes, and stepped out of the stall to wash her face.  When she thought she looked presentable, she went out to find Amy--she didn't want her friend to think anything had happened.  It would be too humiliating.  When she finally spotted Amy, she waved and hurried toward her, hesitating only when she saw that Jeff was there too, looking as if nothing had happened, talking to Amy as if he hadn't just raped her friend.

Stephanie gripped her arms, shook herself, smiled, and called out to Amy.

"There you are," Amy said as she turned toward her.  "We're just talking about going to the party up at one of the co-ops.  You up for it?"

"Sure," she responded, keeping here eyes from Jeff, who seemed too close.

The rest of the night seemed like a blur.  It was like she was two different people.  One was the person that danced and laughed and talked and was Stephanie, the person she and all her friends knew.  The other was the person who couldn't hold a thought for more than a second, whose mind kept going back to that moment when she had felt Jeff's cock slide between her legs and push up into her body.  What was worse was that he was still there, laughing and talking and acting as if he hadn't violated her, but what was worst of all was the way she felt.  She felt that she had betrayed her friend, that she had done something wrong by being raped by her boyfriend.  She felt that she was truly deserving of being raped--she had dressed as a kajira, and he had used her like one, the thought even now making her blood burn, her pussy tingle.  It was all her fault, and she couldn't let anyone know, the shame and humiliation of exposure too much for her.