 |
|||
|
|
Warning! You must be 18 or over to read these stories of rape and nonconsexual sex. If you do not like such stories, please turn back. I don't promote rape or non-consent sex. This is only a story, fiction, if you do not understand the difference between reality and fantasy, read no more. Rape is a heinous crime and the penalty is many years in prison. Anyone who commits rape are despised everywhere. But fantasies are all right so long as no one is hurt.
Karen:
My Rape of an All-American Princess
By “Prey4Me”
Part 1 of 3
Mf, rape, 1st, Mdom
The following is a work of erotic fiction, involving the rape of a perfectly innocent eighteen-year-old girl. It is intended only for persons over eighteen. Any similarity between the characters and real persons is coincidental and utterly improbable. The author does not condone or encourage non-consensual sex. If your reading this goes beyond the mere enjoyment of fantasy to the attempt of forced sex, then either get competent help or a castration or both.
*** *** *** *** ***
Introduction
This fiction, written in the First Person, is a story of forced sex. The protagonist—or anti-hero, if you will—encounters a girl of uncommon beauty, class, and pristine innocence. He gives in to an impulse, and exploits an opportunity to abduct and rape her. The combination of her youthful loveliness, her purity and the cuteness of her school uniform combine to induce him to an unexpected degree of pernicious sexual prowess.
I did it.
I fucking did it.
Even now, I can hardly believe it. It all happened so fast. I didn’t plan it, but then, the opportunity presented itself, and I did it.
I raped a girl.
A beautiful girl.
I raped a very, very, beautiful girl. A drop-dead gorgeous young girl, the kind boys fantasize about, you know the kind: men contrive schemes and make sacrifices to acquire as girlfriends and wives. She was—is—eighteen years old, going to a very good school, is quite charming and intelligent, and is, well, just lovely. I’ve found out that since that she’s extremely bright, and likely to go to one of the best colleges anywhere. She’s a cheerleader, member of the girls’ swim team, and a competitive figure skater. She’s about five foot four, maybe a hundred and ten pounds, with a great hour-glass figure. I know her bust is a 34-B—I couldn’t help myself. At one point, I had to check her bra.
And she’s blonde, a natural, honey-gold blonde, with sparkling blue eyes. She has a sweet, oval face, high cheekbones that don’t jut out, a round jaw, and small-lipped mouth. And oh yes—a cute little nose, which I can really describe as a “button” nose. She belongs on the cover of Seventeen.
I raped her five days ago. I’ve always wanted to fuck a truly beautiful girl, you know, a drop-dead, head-turning chick, and, like most guys, I suppose, I’ve always been intrigued with the idea of raping a girl, taking her against her will, forcing myself upon her. Having her resisting, hating, detesting the sex act, as I force my manhood into her unyielding body. I mean, haven’t you? Looked at a girl, and thought, “I want her. I don’t just want to fuck her, or to make love to her, but I want to grab her, push her onto the ground, rip her clothes off, fondle her body, and then, well, rape her!”
Well, that’s what I wanted to do to Karen when I first saw her.
And I did.
So let me tell you. While it is still fresh in my mind—hell, I’ll remember every detail forever. (And I’m sure she will, too!) But before something happens, like my getting arrested. Truth is, I’m still worried. But it was—for me—a wonderful experience, and I feel it was worth it.
I was on the four-lane in the right lane, and had come up to a stoplight. As I stopped, I was alongside a late-model luxury SUV, and I saw this cute teenage girl in the passenger seat. I found myself staring. She was young, blonde, with her hair brushed to the back over her head and around her temples, where it was clipped. It fell down her shoulders. She was wearing a white blouse. She saw me gawking at her, and gave me one of those quick little, “I’ll-be-polite-but-won’t-encourage-you” smiles, and then looked away. The light went green. We stayed somewhat abreast of each other for a few intersections, and then the sedan pulled into a mall. Impulsively, I pulled in, too, a few car backs. I didn’t have any plan—I was just somehow entranced, wanting to maybe get another look or two at this perfect specimen of young feminine beauty. They didn’t seem to be aware of me, that I was following them.
They pulled into a spot. I noticed that there was a full-sized van on one side, and a large SUV on the other, like they were parked in a tight alley. Then it suddenly occurred to me. If something happened to them, there, it would really be out of sight of most of the parking lot! I drove by and slowed. A woman—blonde, late 30’s, rather attractive, obviously the girl’s mother—got out. She spoke to the girl, and left for the mall. The girl stayed in the car. I drove past, and came down the next aisle in front of the car. Just as I was going past the sedan with the teenage beauty, something remarkable and fortuitous happened: The car right in front of it pulled out! Do I want to do something here? I thought. Right here in the parking lot, in this sea of cars? No, I argued, I’m …just…considering…playing with…the possibilities…
I drove in, right in front of the car with the pretty blonde girl, all alone in it. I looked looked through our windshields. She seemed occupied with something, not paying attention. A plan formed in my mind, and my heart was racing with excitement. I have a toolbox in the back seat. I took out a few nylon zip-ties. You’re not really going through with this, aren’t you? queried the good angel on my shoulder. Well, maybe I will, maybe I won’t… answered the other, dark angel. We’re just…thinking about it….
But I knew. She was so beautiful—in a young, pristine sort of way.
I wanted her.
I had to have her.
I had to fuck her.
Not just to fuck her--
To rape her.
To rape her!
I was rather astonished about how efficient I was over the next several minutes, how careful I was with details—that I had such a streak of criminal cunning in me. Making sure that my passenger door was unlocked, I walked around the back or her car, and came up to the passenger side, where she was sitting. She had a schoolbook open in her lap, studying while Mom shopped. Coming up from behind, I was relieved to see that the door was unlocked. I pulled it open, grabbed her hair, and shoved her downwards, towards the center of the car. I jabbed a piece of pipe into her kidney.
“This is a gun, girl—don’t turn around!—whether you live or die depends on whether you do just what I tell you—put your head down! That’s good, don’t scream or anything—you could die today, if you don’t do just what I tell you, this gun’s loaded—right—put your hands behind your back—do it!—right behind your back!!”
I pulled her hands backwards. I criss-crossed them at the wrists, and snaked a nylon zip-tie underneath, locked and tightened it. I grabbed her by her hair again. Damn, she had such beautiful hair! Golden blonde, falling mid-back, where it curled out in large, soft rings and waves. It was brushed smooth and even, and secured at the back of her head with a tortoise-shell clip which matched her hair.
Just beautiful. Young, soft, long, glossy, baby-fine blonde hair. So I pulled her backwards. “Out. Get out of the car. Don’t scream, or it’s the last thing you ever do. You’re moving to the car in front. Now move, no questions, do it!”
“Mister…mister…please…I-I-“
“Shut up, you little brat! Shut the fuck up and move!” I growled. I’ve always been something of a nerd, even a wimp. I was surprised to find this authoritative mean streak in me.
The teenager obeyed, whimpering a lttle. I grabbed her purse, leaving the books, and took hold of her bound wrists, and stuck the pipe into the back of her waist, and out she came. Sheltered from view by the big van, we moved up to my car, and I opened the passenger door and pushed her in.
“Get down on the floor—crouch!—don’t give me any crap or you’ll be sorry, damn sorry, maybe dead!” She was slender, and she curled up on the floor. She was wearing a blue pleated skirt, probably a school uniform, and it rode up a little, and I noticed a wisp of white nylon slip. I shoved her head down a little further, and slammed the door. Then I moved around, checking to see if anybody was looking, and got in the driver’s seat. She was looking up at me with these bright blue eyes—I told you she was a beauty!—and I slammed the top of her head with my fist, pushing her deep into the floor area.
I backed out, and drove out of the mall parking lot, very carefully.
She started begging and asking me questions and promising me things if I would just let her go, she didn’t do anything, her parents had some money if I didn’t hurt her, blah-blah-blah. I didn’t answer her. It was kind of nice hearing her get desperate and try different pleas and to try bargaining. I think she knew that she was the victim of a sexual kidnapping, but as long as she was scared and confused and not sure, it was, well, helpful (and fun!) to keep her in a kind of psychological self-torment.
Meanwhile, I headed out to the four-lane, and took a reasonable speed to get to a remote area I knew about. Every once in a while I hit her on the head or shoulders to keep her down. I didn’t say much, except “Shut up, brat!” Or “You’ll find out!” and things like that. She kept begging and offering me things and promising things, but I said very little, if anything.
About fifteen minutes later, we were off in the country a bit, and I turned onto a smaller road. “You can get up on the seat now, kid,” I told her. She seemed quite relieved, and slid up. Driving carefully, I opened her purse, and which had the usual teenage girl stuff. I found her wallet. She had several twenties and tens in there. “You always carry this kind of spending money, kid?”
“You can keep the money, just let me go, please?” she begged.
She had such a sweet teen-age voice. Soft, sweet. She was probably a natural soprano. I wondered if she she was a natural blonde. She looked it.
When I approached my turn-off, I figured it was time to let her know—for sure—what was going on.
“I’m not interested in your money, girl.” I leaned over, and fingered her hair.
“Oh, no! No! No! No! Not that! Anything—I’ll give you anything you want, not that—not that—please, not that!”
I poked around her wallet. Credit cards, library, athletic club, license…Her name was Karen. Karen! I liked that. It’s always been one of my favorite names for a girl, I don’t know why. “So. Your name is Karen, huh? And you’re how old…what, eighteen, eighteen?. Just turned eighteen! hmmm? Nice age. You’re very pretty, Karen, you know that?”
I kept exploring the contents, scrupulously watching my lane and speed. I was oddly astonished at how smoothly everything was going, like I had planned it for months. There were pictures of a few guys, but none signed with any special romantic attachment. A guy in football gear—a behoumoth! And pictures of herself and other girls in cheerleader uniforms—really cute tanktops and blue-and-white box-pleated cheer skirts.
The stuff that always makes me drool.
“Isn’t St. Agnes’ an all-girls’ school,” I remarked. “What’s with the football dudes and the cheer outfit?
“We cheer for Brother Dominic’s. It’s our brother school.”
Which made sense. What was almost beyond comprehending for me was that I had not only successfully snatched this teenager with looks-to-die-for (or-go-to-jail-for-the-rest-of-your-life?), but she was a freaking cheerleader! How lucky can a guy get?
I was about to find out.
She squirmed, pressing back against the door. I took a moment to examine my prey more carefully. Damn, she was gorgeous, and cute as hell. Or heaven! She was wearing a white school blouse, long-sleeved, buttoned high. She had a nice figure, and medium breasts, just a couple of nice handsfull, maybe a B-cup. (Actually, I did check later—she wore a 34B bra. And a very pretty one, too! But more on that later.)
She had on a uniform skirt, pleated, blue plaid with criss-crossing elements of green and red, and, yeah, she had a Catholic school I.D. in her wallet, along with a student activity card, which listed chess, drama, debating, swim, and, yeah, cheer. There was—get this!—a membership card in a riding club! And lots of other stuff. She was obviously a very accomplished young lady, aristocratic, privileged--sure to go places in life. Her address was from a very nice part of a very proper town. Her schoolgirl get-up was completed with navy knee-high socks, and well-polished black oxfords
The girl was not only beautiful, sweet, and innocent-looking, but very aristocratic.
I continued driving, and poked through her purse a little more. She quieted down, but came up with occasional entreaties and offers if I would leave it alone. I looked through the rest of her purse. Girl stuff. And a cell phone. Which reminded me that she would be missed. I was so carried away with this lovely girl–intoxicated actually!—that I had to think about my legal and tactical situation, and make some fast decisions. But I had made my decision.
I was going to go through with it.
I had kidnapped a perfect beauty. A one-in-a-million all-American sweetheart!
And I was going to rape her.
We drove a bit more, to a county road I’m familiar with, and turned off. There was a little talk, what with her trying to beg and negotiate and threaten me. I ignored all that, but I was actually grooving on her increasing fear and anxiety, and her desperate attempts to talk her way out of her predicament. Then the phone rang.
I picked it up, flipped it open. “Hello,” I answered. “You must be Mrs. _______. No, you don’t know me. But I am with Karen. She’s okay, she’s fine, just be quiet and listen…. No, she can’t talk to you. Now you be quiet, Mrs. ________ and listen to me, and listen to me real good.” (I made my voice, grammar, and vocabulary coarse, so she would be better persuaded that she was dealing with a ruthless thug!) “Now I got your daughter with me, yeah, your little Karen. Now you shut the fuck up and settle the fuck down, because if you don’t listen to me good and understand me real good something real real bad is going to happen to your little Karen, got it?”
She blubbered out a kind of yes.
Karen suddenly screamed out, “Mommy he’s kidnapped me and I’m out in the country I think—” But I freed a foot and kicked her, landing a hard blow around her collarbone.
“Shut up bitch!” I hollered, she screamed out, started crying, but she did shut up.
“Now she’s going to be with me for the rest of the day. You go home and stay quiet and I’ll let you know when and where you get her, but it won’t be for a while. If you call the cops I’ll kill her. If you call the cops later I’ll kill her and you and your husband and your whole fucking family. If I have any contact with cops, then you lose your daughter and maybe your whole fucking family and you’ll always be asking yourself why you didn’t do what I told you to, got it?”
It took a while, but I got this hysterical mother quieted down and apparently compliant. “You will get your little Karen back, if you do what I say, and I’ll contact you about ransom soon. Just be calm and don’t call the cops. You don’t want her body dumped on your front lawn, huh? Don’t contact the cops—you don’t want me to even see a traffic cop, not even a fuckin’ meter maid, if you know what I mean, it might make me nervous, understand?
“Now I’m going to shut off the phone and I won’t be answering it. Our only contact will be when I call you on it. Don’t try to call me. I’m taking the battery out of it, just to make sure. Don’t even call your husband just yet. Just sit tight for a few hours and be calm and don’t call the police..”
Then I put the phone to Karen’s ear, and she started blubbering and crying and telling Mommy that she hadn’t been hurt but she thought the man wanted to do things to her and stuff like that and I snapped the phone shut. I pulled over, and pulled the battery out, just in case it was a GPS phone. I put the phone in her purse.
I pulled Karen off the floor and got her properly seated. Her uniform skirt was richly pleated, and the crisp edges spilled generously about her lap and off her sides. I put my hand on her knee. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, Karen. It’s either that, or you’re going to get hurt really badly.” Starting on top of the well-tailored hem, I ran my hand lightly up her thigh. She shrieked and lurched back against the corner of the seat, pulling her legs back and tucking them underneath. “No! No! No-no-no-NO! Not that! Please—anything—not that, please, please, please!” Her pretty breasts were heaving, and tears streamed down her smooth, softly chiseled cheeks. But I couldn’t help looking at her legs. She had slim hips, and damn, somehow she was just so fuckably cute with her legs curled up under her ass, her knees, squeezed tightly together, and her schoolgirl skirt pleats scattered this way and that over the car seat.
I flipped up the hem of her skirt, exposing some slip. “Ooooh!” she yelped. It wasn’t very exotic, but it was demure and pretty. It had a nice, smooth luster to it. No lace, just a rolled hem; at each side was a small walking slit, topped with a little satin bow. Nothing very fancy, just very feminine and dainty.
We were on a more narrow road, and I balanced attention to the road with my first enjoyment of my prey. I liked the way this schoolgirl dressed! It was a tense and exciting thirty minutes as I drove deeper into the country, and onto a smaller road and then a dirt way. I stopped pawing her, and she relaxed a bit, asking me different questions and begging and pleading and things. She asked me about myself. Smart kid. She was either trying to find out information or to establish a bond with me. I didn’t answer much, but did let on, “I really dig nice teenage girls.”
The skirt slipped back down over the slip, and, from time to time, I would flip up the hem, just to freak her out—and to look at her pretty slip and nice legs. She had really smooth, round knees.
What was especially nice was when she offered to blow me.
“If you don’t rape me, I mean if you promise not to rape me, then I’ll go down on you, mister, would you like that?” I didn’t answer her on that. I figured if I wanted a blowjob, then I’d make her do it.
But mainly, I wanted to fuck this girl.
To rape her.
And I wanted to take my time doing it. A girl like this, well, you don’t fuck girls like this very often, if ever. We finally got to my hideout. It was an abandoned farm. The barn was derelict, and the farmhouse was trashed with the remains of countless high school kids’ parties. There were a few pieces of furniture, and some old—and dirty—mattresses hanging around. This girl probably had romantic visions of an elegant and romantic wedding night.
She was going to lose her virginity to some pernicious stranger, by being raped in an isolated, filthy place miles and miles from nowhere.
I reached for lovely little Karen, my teen captive, and took hold of her hair around the nape. I pulled her to the center of the car, hard.
“Karen.” I was quiet and very direct.
“Yes, mister?”
“You better get this straight. Me master, you slave. And you better be a good slave, and make me a very happy master, or you will be a very unhappy, miserable slave. Maybe disfigured, and maybe even dead. Comprende?”
“Yes. But--”
“For the rest of today, and for as long as I want to keep you here, you are my sex slave. You will do anything and everything I tell you to. And if you try to fight me, or try to escape, I will catch you and hurt you and hurt you very very bad. Now say, ‘Yes, sir, I understand, and I will obey you.’”
Karen lurched. “Please, you can’t get away with this, just let me go—“
I pulled her head back by her hair and delivered a hard punch to her flat tummy, producing a loud “Ooooph!”
Then I gave her another. And another. And still another. Each one yielded a grunt or a groan. They were pretty hard punches, even with my left. “I said, say, ‘Yes, sir, I understand and I will obey!’”
She breathed heavily and gasped. Then she kind of grunted, kind of whispered,
“Yes sir, I understand ….oooo…..and I will (huh, huh, oooh)…obey.”
I pushed her head back, flipping her soft yellow hair over the seat back, and leaned in close. Now I could enjoy my prey! My heart raced. I had her here, alone, in the middle of nowhere—and I could do with her as I wanted. I gave her a moment to catch her breath, and small tears began to trickle out of her eyes.
I wanted to rape her. I so wanted to rape this beautiful teenager!
“Now kiss me, Karen. Kiss me nicely, like you would your boyfriend.” I turned her face to me, and lowered my lips to hers. We met, and she kissed me. It was soft, warm, and her lips tasted of a light fruity lip-gloss. It was just wonderful. I’m sure she kissed only the most eligible boys, and here she was, kissing me, and all against her will or desires. I moved my lips over and about hers, let the kiss last a couple of minutes.
I didn’t French her. Later, but not now. I just kissed her. My left hand steadied her at her neck and temples, and I stroked the sheen of her pulled-back hair. I let my right just fall between us, at first; then I slid it behind her shoulder blades. My open fingers were entwined in her silky blonde hair down her back. My fingertips toyed with her large, rich curls.
My libido had been a bit suppressed, probably with the tension and anxiety of undertaking a major crime. But, alone now with my lovely victim, I found my lust getting aroused, and my prick started getting thick with desire inside my pants. It knew that something was coming, something wonderful and warm and wet and tight which would make it feel good.
We both were breathing through out noses, except for occasional gasps as our lips moved over and about each other. Finally, I broke the kiss, and we both pulled back breathing heavily. Karen looked down. I think s he noticed the growing bulge in my pants. I lifted her chin up. “Make sure I get lots of kisses and see your pretty blue eyes, Karen,” I instructed.
She nodded “yes” in quiet assent. She was trembling.
I liked that.
I kept my right hand deeply in her hair, and my left slid to her shoulder, her smooth round shoulder, and I massaged and stroked it through her white uniform blouse. I could feel her bra strap underneath, and it excited me more. “I’ll bet you wear very pretty underwear, don’t you, Karen?” She winced and looked away, obviously uncomfortable with even this verbal intrusion into her feminine modesty.
“Um, well, uh….” She seemed to fish for words. The whole thing here was all about her body, but now that we were really at that point she was having trouble dealing with the actuality of it all.
“Answer me, Karen,” I quietly ordered.
“I mean, I mean…I like to wear nice things, ummmm, but I don’t tease or show off….I’m not a, uh, a party girl…”
“You look like the kind of girl who wears pretty lingerie. You do, don’t you?” I wrapped some of her hair around my fist, and pulled it to show I expected an answer.
“(…yes…)” she whispered. “I do.”
I pushed her skirt pleats up her thigh several inches, displaying her slip. It had a rich satin luster. The little satin bows at the side slits were such a nice, delicate touch. It was styled full, allowing an active girl lots of room for her trim, athletic legs to move.
“Mister, please…” she sighed at this—the first (and minor) exposure of her private areas.
My hand slipped down, and I cupped her right breast. Karen jumped a bit, began to twist away, but then thought better of it. I just held her tit. Such a nice, firm, round, teenage tit. It was wonderful. Then I massaged it a bit, feeling her up. I was pretty crude—like an over-sexed teenage kid in lovers’ lane. Just a horny guy who hadn’t gotten any in a long while, and now had the Queen of the Prom all ready to go--and all to himself!
I was greedy for this adorable schoolgirl. I raised my right arm, and nestled her nape in the crook of my elbow, and pulled her face, her soft sweet lips, right up to me, tight and I planted another kiss on her, a hard and wet one. My other hand went wild over her tits, grabbing them, squeezing them; I felt her up, well, really rough. Crudely. I started feeling the freedom and power of knowing I could do anything I wanted to with my bound captive! Karen started to twist and buck a bit, but she was tight in my embrace. My left arm went around her firm, slender waist, and I pulled her hard against me. She was tense and squirmed, but she didn’t fight me.
I pushed my tongue against her lips. She felt rigid, from bottom to top. I reached down, and found her criss-crossed wrists, and pulled them up hard towards her shoulder blades, all the while mashing my mouth hard onto hers. It at once hurt her, and pushed her chest towards me. Karen’s eyes widened, and rolled around, but she could feel my tongue on hers. Finally, she parted hers, and I slid my tongue in, Frenching her, deep and sensuously. There was a trace of mint to her breath. I returned my right arm to cradling her head and neck, and I pushed my kiss hard against her. She was immobile in my arm, and couldn’t turn or back away. I drove my other hand down her flat tummy to her crotch, and dug in between her clenched legs, goosing her, rubbing my hand up and down her thighs, and as deep into her crotch of her woolen skirt as I could.
“Get used to it, Candy-Crotch!” I panted, breaking the tongue-kiss. “I’m going to be shoving something else right in there,” I said as I shoved my fingers into her belly. “And you won’t have your clothes in my way, either!”
I exited the car, went over to her side and pulled her out by her long hair, yanking and dragging her to the rear bumper. I turned her, and backed her up against it. She twisted and stepped away, as though, with her hands still bound behind her back, she was going to make a break for it! Maybe this was involuntary, but I wasn’t going to have any part of it, and I grabbed her arm and spun her around. Now Karen was bent forward over the car trunk, the way a cop would subdue a prisoner. I grabbed her bound wrists, pulling them up harder, and slamming the little schoolgirl hard onto the car.
“Oooomph! Ow!” she hollered. Her hair flew over the glossy black metal, obscuring her face. I kneed her backside, right at the bottom of her little butt, then kneed her again and again and again, getting a scream and a grunt with each one.
“Ooo! Ow! OW! Ugh—OHHH! AYYYYEEEEE!”
“Wanna fight? Think you’re tough? You’re all alone out here, girl—nobody can hear you, nobody can help you, and the only person who can help you is me—me! So, you gonna be a good girl and do what I say? Or are you going to try and fight me off, huh? Cause either way, easy or nice, I’m gonna get you, girl, I’m going to have you—fuck you, you know? I mean, I’m going to fucking rape you, and it’s up to you how much it’s going to hurt!”
Karen, the pristine and protected little teenage princess, was leaning over the car trunk, sobbing, passive…defeated. I could see she was kind of nodding her head. I turned her around, and brushed her long blonde hair away from her face. Tears streaked her cheeks Karen gasped and babbled and begged for me to let her go. HA! She was so lovely, this girl, and the misery all over her face made me want to hurt and rape her all the more.
But I wanted her compliant. I’m kind of new at this rape thing, and I didn’t want a bucking and twisting moving target when I honed in on her cunt! She needed to learn a lesson, to know who’s boss. I kept a firm grip on her bound wrists, pushing them up good and hard to her shoulder blades. This produced a good, piercing all-girl-soprano scream that went out into the empty woods and fields around the old farmhouse.
“Wanna fight, bitch? Huh?”
“No-no-nooooo, on, it hurts, it hurts, it HURTS! Please-stop-please-stop-please-please-pleeeeeease….STOP!” Karen dropped her head to the trunk, her gorgeous hair spread about her face, head, and the sheet metal, and she sobbed and cried.
But I wasn’t through.
“You need one good fucking lesson before your fucking, you spoiled little bitch!”
Keeping her pinned against the car, I shoved my knee into her, hitting her on her thigh, just below her ass. I gave her another one, a little higher. It landed on her right butt cheek, and then a third, fourth, and a fifth, all on and around her posterior. They were good and hard, too! Just to soften her up.
The pretty little schoolgirl screamed some more, but the last few blows produced a kind of “Ooooommmph!!” A soprano grunt, of sorts.
I stopped, and my victim just lay against the car, sobbing and catching her breath.
“Had enough? Or do you need some more, cunt?”
“Please…please…no more…” she spoke softly, weeping. “I’ve had …enough…I’ll do…what you want…Please don’t hurt me any more, mister, please…”
Then she said something that was music to my ears.
“I’ll let you make love to me.”
“I’m not going to make love to you, Karen.”
She turned around, looking up at me. “You won’t?”
“No, Karen. I’m going to rape you!”
She was fully turned around now, and I pushed her backwards, and she was arched over the edge of the car, with her head on the trunk, and her hair fanned out over the gleaming black of my car. Her nice, teenage tits were pushed upwards, displayed nicely because her blouse was stretched tightly from her skirt’s waistband. The position flattered her teenage tummy. And her hips, her crotch were arced so nicely, pushed outwards, right at the edge of the car, forcing her to raise herself up on the tip-toes of her shiny black oxfords. And her hands behind her back accentuated the arch of her body—and probably hurt her a bit more, I suspect.
She lay back like that, obedient and waiting for my next command.
Her lovely breasts rose and fell very noticeably, as she caught her breath. She was still crying, but just a little now.
Little Karen was quite a site to behold. I cupped her breasts, both hands. It was exhilarating to have the power and freedom to just touch her nice body in any way I wanted! They felt nice and full through her blouse and bra. I gave them a little squeeze, and let my hands slide down to her stretched-tight flat tummy, and my fingers slide up and down along the pleats of her skirt.
My right hand found her crotch, and I goosed her, digging my fingertips right into her pussy. I loved it, feeling up this perfect little teenage Venus. In mere moments I would be enjoying her smooth young skin! I worked my hand over her, feeling the lines of her hips and thighs and pussy through the woolen skirt and whatever she had under it. Karen lay back over the trunk, looking off to the side. She had a bit of a scowl on her forehead, and her blonde hair looked mighty fine spread over the black enamel in disarray. I pulled her skirt up, then up a bit more, and could feel the lines of her young body more enticingly through her shimmery slip. I could feel her panty lines. Her flesh felt smooth and firm through the thin nylon.
Yum.
“Mister?”
“Yeah, baby,” I answered, my hand running all over her intimate areas, digging, fondling, groping, stroking.
“It hurts. My hands—my wrists—please, please—it hurts so much. Please take them off. I won’t do anything—anything wrong, I mean—I promise, but please, please, take them off, they hurt, I’ll do what you want, just please….”
I pulled her upright.
“Promise me you won’t run or fight, not a bit.”
“I promise.”
“Promise me you’ll do everything I tell you to—and I mean everything—everything!”
“I promise, mister, I promise, oh, please!”
“Kiss me, like you would your boyfriend.”
Lifting her head off the black enamel, she pressed warm, firm, puckered lips onto mine. It was nice, but awfully, well chaste. I pulled her upright. “You can do better than that, honey.”
“I’m, I’m sorry, mister,” she answered. “I don’t have a boyfriend. My parents won’t let me.”
“Huh? A dreamboat like you? Don’t you date?”
“Just a little. But Daddy doesn’t let me date one-on-one, not until I’m in college. He’s very strict.”
Thank you, Daddy! I thought. Thank you for protecting this little dreamboat from the cocks of horny teenage boys, and saving her tight virgin pussy for me!
“Now kiss me. Don’t move while I enjoy you. Just keep kissing me.”
I parked my hands on her waist, at the top of her hips, and let her do the work, as she pushed herself up on tip-toe, and pressed and undulated her body while she gave me a nice, warm, wet French kiss. My hands went all over her torso: her shoulders, tits, waist, buttocks. I felt her up with complete abandon. And she kept kissing me, her tongue meeting, circling and playing and pushing back. Maybe she wasn’t very experienced, but she sure put herself into it. I figured I could take a chance with her. I turned her back to me, took out a razor knife, and cut the nylon zip tie. I put the blade right up to her cheek.
“You disobey me—break your promise—fight me, try to run, anything—and this blade will be back on your face, and I’ll cut you up so bad no boy will ever date you, let alone marry you, no matter what kind of plastic surgeons your daddy gets, understand?
Karen nodded her head “yes.” She leaned back against the car. I studied her, admiring the lovely girl, so completely available and ready for me to enjoy.
“Karen.”
“Yes?”
“Unbutton your blouse.”
Showtime. At last. I wanted to just rip her uniform blouse apart, but I thought it best to be able to return her to Mommy looking reasonably intact. Karen looked down, her hair falling in front of her shoulders, and she flipped it back. She located the top button, then pulled it open.
Then the next.
And the next one.
Two, three more, and she was at the waistband of her woolen skirt. She stopped there, and looked up at me with a hurt but quizzical expression, and dropped her hands to her sides. Inside the parted garment, there was a peek of white brassiere, something shiny.
Nice.
“Pull your blouse open.
She pulled the halves apart, exposing her young teen brassiere. The shiny thing was very pretty and girlish. It consisted of two modest triangular satin cups, no lace. The fabric was alternating white satin stripes, one very shimmery, the next kind of a flat sheen, then the shimmery satin one again, and so on, running diagonally across her tits. The stripes met between the cups in a “V.” The whole thing was kept together with slender silvery straps.
It was a very pretty, delicate thing, covering two perfect teenage orbs—nice “B” cups, perfectly firm hemispheres of creamy girlflesh.
“Wider.”
Karen was turning out to be a very obedient girl. I suppose it might be nice to beat and force a screaming victim into submission, but I was rather relieved to have her compliant.
She pulled her blouse wide apart, allowing me a better view—and access to--her pretty satin-garbed tits. It was a soft-cup bra, and I could see little buttons pressing out on the satin caused by her nipples.
It’s a cliché, but you could really call them perky.
“Keep holding your blouse open.”
And so she stood there, backed against the car fender, holding her schoolgirl shirt open while my eyes feasted on the lovely sight of Karen’s wonderful tits. And my hands followed suit. I placed each hand on a tit. And cupped it, then massaged and squeezed and fondled and stroked and pinched and stroked and fondled and groped and cupped and just thoroughly enjoyed the feel of the highschool girl’s adorable breasts. They felt firm and luscious through her lingerie, and I spent maybe a few minutes feeling her up, kissing her a bit here and there. She mostly looked off into the distance while I used and abused her teenage delights.
And I was getting hot, real hot, feeling up this teen dreamboat. I leaned down, nuzzling and kissing her breasts through her bra. The satin caressed my lips, and I could feel her nipples pucker through the thin material. I dropped to my knees, hugging her waist, moving my face all about her bosom, her flat tummy, her blouse, and her bra.
I got up. I took her by the hand and led her up to the derelict farmhouse. The porch didn’t have a rail, and was raised about three or four feet up. I had her climb up, and sat at the edge. I untied her black oxfords, and when I tapped her leg, she alertly raised a foot, I slipped off one shoe, then the other. The hem of her skirt was inches from my face, and I ran my hands up her calves, to the top of her knee-highs, and pulled them down, then off each foot.
Karen had very, very nice legs—smooth, slender, cleanly shaved. I spent a few more minutes running my hands up and down her legs, enjoying particularly the feel of going up under her skirt, first over, then under her soft slip, to her creamy thighs. Nice teen skin, with soft lingerie caressing my hands and arms! Karen was quite the young lady, I daresay! As I worked my way up and down her legs, I saw that her panties had matching striped satin like her bra, a kind of shiny satin alternating with a flat stripe, each stripe about an inch wide. There was not a square inch of her legs that I didn’t touch and stroke and caress. Have you ever looked at a girl and wished you could just reach under her dress, and touch her intimately, crudely, rudely? Enjoy her any way you want, and her feelings be damned?
Well, that’s what I had here. I moved her over to the rickety steps, and had her step down two, so her crotch was even with my head. She waited obediently while I pulled off my shirt and t-shirt.
Then, just for the heck of it, I lowered my head to the hem of her swingy skirt, and ducked underneath it. I continued rubbing and stroking her legs, but now moved my face all along her legs, right up to her tight-fitting panties, and nuzzled my face against the bottom of her flat teenage belly, down to her crotch. My chin and lips could feel the gentle fuzz of her pussy hair through her silvery pantycrotch, and I could pick up the smell of her pussy through the material.
It was heaven! Looking back, it seemed rather silly. Here I was, my head underneath a schoolgirl’s skirt, but it was a sensory delight, and a hell of a turn-on, an invasion of her intimate regions.
The smooth underside of her slip was draped over my neck and shoulders, and it gently caressed my skin as I moved under it. Her pleats spilled over my shoulders and down my back. I pressed my face into her teenage twat, as I stroked my chin and cheeks in the nestle of her crotch. I was groping her ass cheeks something fierce, first through her smooth panties, then sliding my hands under the elastic of her leg openings and cupping and squeezing a pair of really firm buttocks. She was naturally firm, and obviously athletic as well.
I’m not sure how long I enjoyed exploring beneath her pleated skirt—and slip!—maybe five or ten minutes, and I was getting damned horny, just enjoying the private areas of this modest little princess. It was one thing to enjoy the girl—and everything I did was a kind of violation—but I did kidnap her to rape her!
It was time to get this dreamboat fuck-ready. My hands slid up the sides of her gently curving hips, and found the waistband of her panties. I dug my index fingers into, and pulled them down, inside-out, right down her thighs, knees, and to her ankles. I pushed my face right back into her crotch, and inhaled the undiluted aroma of pure, teenaged girl. Holding her steady with my arms around her thighs, I shoved my face in, good and hard, rubbing my chin up and down her girl-slit, then sticking my tongue out and licking her pussy lips.
I could feel her tense up. I didn’t flatter myself to think I was giving her pleasure. Probably the shock of a new, intrusive sensation. At least I hope so. I cupped her ass cheeks, pulling her against me, as I just licked her pussy lips, then slipped my tongue in a bit and wiggled it a little, just cause it was nice to do so, but also hoping that it was alien and invasive to her chaste sensibilities.
I also dug my fingers into her bottom. There was a firm feel to her butt, and nice, smooth skin.
I didn’t mean to seduce the girl.
I wanted to rape her!
I took a hand off her trim derriere, and slide my middle finger up and down her pussy lips, then—and I could feel Karen shudder—I pushed it in, up to my first knuckle. I wriggled it, and then moved it up and down, and, a little deeper in, found just what I was looking—and hoping—for: her maidenhead. My well-protected, very religious Karen, not allowed to date outside of chaperoned groups, was, indeed, intact! Not just virginal, but intact! I can’t tell you how delighted I was to have my hopes confirmed.
Let me confess something here. I don’t get laid very often. And when I do, well, it’s not the cream of the crop. I’d never had a bonafide virgin.
And Karen, lovely, blonde, Catholic schoolgirl Karen, was true cherry.
I pulled out from underneath her uniform skirt, and it fell, swaying gently.
I stepped up onto the rickety porch, picking up her panties off the step, and had her join me. I couldn’t resist examining the little thing, feeling the softness, and pressing it to my face and inhaling the aroma of freshly showered teenage girl. I put them in my pocket.
She faced me, arms to her side, her blouse open with the shirt tales pulled out a bit.
“Take off your blouse.”
Karen pulled the shirt tales out of the skirt waistband, and undid the last couple of buttons. She unbuttoned her cuffs, and shrugged her shoulders back. The white blouse slid off her shoulders, down her arms. It floated to the floor behind her.
“The skirt.”
She reached to her side, and fidgeted with a button, opening it. Then she slid the zipper down, and it dropped off her hips, landing in a circle of blue, red, and yellow wool around her pretty little feet. She stood before me, her hands at her sides, wearing just her satin bra and half-slip, awaiting my next order. She was trembling slightly.
I moved up the steps, and stood before her. I tore my remaining clothes off. In an instant my shoes were kicked off, and my pants and underwear and socks in a pile.
Naked now, my cock hard and anxious was standing up straight in front of her, wanting her, wanting to be done with the preliminaries to get burrowed deep into her luscious young body, and Karen knew it. Her gaze was fixed on my hard-on. I doubt she had ever seen a naked cock, let alone an erect one! I stepped up to her, and the tip of my prick rubbed against the soft satin of her half-slip, nestling in the hallow below her flat tummy. I put my hands on her tits, grabbing and squeezing them. Then I slid her shiny-ribbon bra straps off her shoulders.
They dangled below her elbows.
I hugged pretty little Karen in my arms, pulling her forward, her arms hanging at her sides. Her face lay in the crook of my neck. My prick was rubbing up against her shiny slip, and damn, it felt fine, so smooth and soft and gently ticklish! I reached behind her, and found her bra hooks, and pulled them apart. Stepping back, I hooked my index finger in between her bra cups, and pulled it off.
Her breasts were teen perfection. Just magnificent. Nice, round, hemispheres, about the size of tennis balls, that pushed out from her ribcage, without the least bit of droop or sag. They were peaked with small, pale-pink nipples, and tipped with such cute little nodules, each one about the size of a pencil erasure. I moved her to a step so her tits were even with my face.
I examined her bra
It was a 34-B—perfect, just right for her size and frame. Her breasts were about the size of tennis balls, very round and firm, not a bit of droop. They just pushed straight off her chest.
I cupped them, and flicked my thumbs up and down over her nipples. Karen stood still, wincing occasionally, but she stayed still, her arms to her sides. I got kind of rough. I got on a stair step so my face was even with her chest, and spent, I don’t know, four or five minutes just enjoying the cheerleader’s tits. I kissed them, licked them, sucked on them. I nuzzled my face against them, and listened to her rapid heart. I lifted them, pushed them inwards, spread them outwards, cupped and squeezed and pinched them. Karen stood there as I took each nipple and placed it precisely between my canines, and bit, ever so slowly, and was rewarded with exquisite screams which died in the nearby woods. Karen couldn’t back away—she would rip her nipples off! She just stood there, squirming, pushing and gripping my shoulders weakly with her little fists.
Then I’d ease off, and soothingly lick her sore nipples, and settle her down. What was so nice was that above the waist was all this beautiful tit and skin, and below was her torso clad in the smooth slip. She had such enjoyable little breasts, and my hands kept busy holding and stroking her at her hips and ass, right through her nylon slip.
The tip of my prick swung back and forth, and when the bottom of it brushed against her slip, it jumped in excitement and anticipation of the fuck it was anxious for. There’s real female around here! it seemed to be saying, Real pussy—I’m gonna get real pussy!
I moved the two of us up to the decrepit porch, by the door of the ramshackle farmhouse.
I pulled my lovely captive against me, pointing her face to me, and we kissed some more, hard and hot and wet, and my tongue plunged into her mouth. I shoved her hard against the house wall, shoving my hips against her. My hips and meat could feel her body right through the thin nylon, as I banged my heated loins against her, and ground my crotch back and forth against hers.
Karen stood still, hands to her side, allowing me to pull her body against mine. I stroked and rubbed her shoulders, tits, sides, and worked their way in and out of her soft blonde hair as they moved all about her back. I took my time with her, savoring every perfect lovely sexy exciting detail with this teen princess. I took hold of the satin slip at her hips, and pulled it down, down, and the flimsy thing slipped down her legs, landing in a circle of white satin atop her feet, on top of the mound of her blue pleated skirt.
Sweet little Karen and I were both naked now.
Completely.
It was time to rape my teenage dreamboat.
To deflower my tender ingénue.
I took hold of her upper arm, and anchored my other hand in her hair at her nape, and we entered the derelict farmhouse. It was such a beautiful day, early autumn and warm. Great weather to be naked, to rape a girl.
The place was a mess, strewn with broken furniture, trash, and lots of scattered beer cans, cups, pizza boxes, bottles and food wrappers. On weekends, it’s a teen party house, but nobody comes out on a weekday afternoon. I was sure we would be quite alone and undisturbed.
Karen froze at the doorway, when she saw the mess, but I gave her a shove, and pushed her inside. Barefoot, we made our way through the crap, and I steered my prey to the stairs, and marched her up to a bedroom I was familiar with.
We got to the door. There, Karen balked.
“No….no…. Please….. Not here—not this place—not—oh, no, I…I couldn’t…it’s…so…filthy!” she said, surveying the place.
And it was filthy. There were beer cans and bottles, dilapidated furniture, cigarette butts, crap all over the place, and in the corner, a dirty, stained mattress on the floor. Karen, I’m sure, was a girl who dreamed of yielding her virginity to a passionate husband-lover on her wedding night, in some elegant four-posted bed in grand honeymoon suite. Wearing a white silk peignoir, too! This place was a firetrap and a health hazard—and definitely condemned!
I wrapped an arm around her waist and yanked her head back by her hair. “What did you expect, baby, the honeymoon suite at the Plaza? You’re going to get on that mattress,” I growled into her ear, “and get fucked, or I’m going to drag you into the basement and hang you up by your wrists! Then I’ll beat you and whip that creamy country-club hide of yours till you’re bleeding all over! And in the end you’re still going to be one thoroughly raped little bitch!” I turned her so her back was to the doorframe, and shoved her against it, hard. I leaned in on her, stooping a bit so my hard prick pushed against her pussy.
“Remember what I said in the car, Candy-Crotch! ‘Me master, you slave. And I mean fuck-slave!’” I pushed my face into her neck, her hair, and felt the softness of her blonde tresses. “You’re here to lie down on your back, open your legs, take my cock into your little pussy, and get fucked!”
Karen started crying. The horrible, ugly finality of her situation and the tawdry filth of the place must have combined to really get to her. I rubbed my prick up and down against her pussy some more, which reinvigorated my erection, and then took her by the arm and hair and, tiptoe, led her through the debris to the mattress. I parked her right in the middle of it.
She stood there, a nude goddess in a garbage dump, hunched forward a bit, clasping her hands to her pussy. Her face was covered with misery, and she was crying again. She looked at me with a desperate, plaintiff expression.
Karen’s young, baby-fine hair was brushed to the rear over the top and around the sides of her head, and it trailed down her shoulders and back in classic school-girl style. She was wearing a blonde-colored clip at the back of her head. “Take that thing out of your hair,” I ordered. She reached up, lifting her breasts, and unsnapped it. Her hair fell down extravagantly about her shoulders. “Now shake your hair out, and whip it back and forth.” She did. A moment later, it was in generous disarray all about her shoulders, and spilling down her chest, where the tips brushed over her cute pink nipples.
“Put your hands in your hair—at your nape—and tussle your hair.”
Karen gave me what I wanted, a classic pin-up pose, her hair disheveled about her hands and wrists. “Now turn around, not too fast.”
She turned, and I studied her carefully, massaging my impatient prick while I enjoyed the show. She was truly, impeccably beautiful. A teen Venus at the cusp of her womanhood. Her tits rose a bit higher, and her flat tummy was even more slender before flaring to the gentle adolescent curve of her hips and ass. And her ass. Her ass! Small, tight, and high.
There was nothing on her except a gold crucifix on a tiny chain. I let her keep that on. A sparkling irony, it appealed to the Darwinian in me. You know, the alpha male and the gene pool thing.
“Now get on your knees, bitch.”
Karen dropped.
I took hold of her hair with two fists, and pulled her forward. “Kiss my cock.”
I made her lean forward, and she planted a chaste little kiss on the purple tip.
“Come on. You can do better than that!”
Karen gave it a harder, warmer kiss, and I guided her lips over it, up and down, and along the side. “Keep kissing, bitch, keep kissing the thing that will fuck you, that will take your virginity. This is your first cock, isn’t it, girl?”
She nodded “yes,” and kept kissing it. The light tickle and caress of her lips was very pleasant, but I was getting more excited with the knowledge that she had never had contact with a penis before, and I was her first, and this whole thing was shocking and repulsive to her. Her hair brushed against it a bit, and that was extra nice.
“Since you’re not very good at kissing cock, girl, open your mouth and suck it!”
I felt her lips purse. I gave her a resounding slap, hitting not her cheek but the side of her head and temple. With the heel of my palm. Good and hard! She spun off to her right, her glorious blonde mane flying out in a circle. She landed in a curled heap, her hair strewn across her face. I kicked her, digging my heel into the side of her hip.
“Now get back on your knees.”
She pulled herself together, facing me. Her head was bowed down, her hair falling forward, obscuring face, but I could tell she was crying.
I took my left hand, and slapped her again, and she spun off to my right in another heap. Again, her hair flew out in a circle, covering her face. But this time she put her hands, and pushed herself back to the kneeling position. In a moment, she was kneeling before me, had flipped her hair to her back, and—tears streaming down her beautiful aristocratic cheeks—her bright blue eyes, tears streaming out, looking right at me.
“Please. Please. No more. Don’t hit me, please. I’ll d-do what you want. I—I--, don’t know much about, about…these things. I-I’m a virgin, you know, and I, haven’t dated much or, um, done things, um, with boys…I just… don’t know, well, well, just what you want me to do. Please. Please. Please, just, just….f-f-fuck me and get it over with.”
“Please, mister.”
“Please….fuck me…just….(do it)…..” Her voice trailed off to a whimper. She lowered that beautiful face, steeped in misery, and her hair fell forward in that way it frames a young girl’s face.
“Fuck me,” she whispered.
Then Karen leaned forward, opened her mouth, leaned forward and swallowed my hard prick. She just held it softly in her mouth for a moment, and then slowly started raising and lowering her head, sucking me on the upward motion, and relaxing as she lowered her lips down to the base of my dick. Her oral hold was light—I’d even say delicate. She barely touched it.
She was kind of avoiding it, being shy—and it was quite a tease. Very very exciting.
I brushed her hair backwards with my splayed fingers as she was sucking me off. It was so soft, and I could see tears streaming down her cheeks as she applied herself to her assignment of sucking my meat. I breathed heavily, intoxicated with the pernicious pleasure of her unhappiness, her beauty, her subjugation, the abject defilement of this pure girl. Her chest heaved. Her perky tits rose and fell.
But: she kept her mouth on my prick.
And it was feeling better every minute.
I slid my prick in, and she closed her lips and jaw gingerly over it. She was so pristine, and her technique was rather inept, but I just pushed my hips forward and back, fucking her sweet face, while she delicately (dare I say “tastefully?”) sucked on my hog.
But it felt good, it really did. Not the best blowjob I’ve had, but to have this perfectly lovely piece of rape-bait sucking away was rapturous! I fucked her face for a few minutes. I guess you can say I was actually, finally, raping her! Karen bent forward on her knees, her hands on the grubby mattress, rocking forward and back. I slouched towards her, holding her by her hair, guiding her head and mouth. I was getting hornier and harder like hell. My prick was rock-hard again, pointing straight up, and Karen had to rise up a bit to get her head at an adequate angle. But most of my penis was inside her mouth, the tip nestling deep against her throat as I lunged into her mouth.
She’s never done this before. I’m the first! Her very first cock! This is the first time she’s ever touched cock—and it’s my cock, mine—right in her sweet little mouth!! My gloating was wordless but intense. I continued rocking, in and out. And this is just the start—I’m going to rape her! Her virgin pussy! As gratifying as it was, I didn’t want to go too far.
I figured I could safely keep her captive for maybe a few hours, and I was determined to get her pussy, and to get her good. I pulled out of her mouth, and put the ball of my foot on her chest, and pushed her back. She landed hard on the grubby mattress, her golden curls fanning out. She was flat on her back, arms stretched out from her shoulders. One knee was raised up slightly, kind of covering the other one. She looked startled, or maybe anxious or afraid or resigned—I don’t know. But she was so beautiful and sexy, with her sweet teenage titties pushing up off her chest, and her golden triangle inviting my cock in.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful, desirable, fuck-worthy cunt, not before or since. She had slightly sparse hair, golden blonde like her mane, with a little touch of red. It was a soft hair, not very kinky—kind of large, loopy curls. Her cunt hair extended just to the top of her pussy lips, and not at all on her thighs or belly.
I dropped first to my knees, then I fell on top of her, hard, sprawling Kissing her and fondling her and feeling her up and rubbing against her had all been really good, but there was nothing like the feel of this pristine teenager underneath me, pinned to the smelly mattress. I lay on top of her, writhing and grinding my crotch against hers. Then I slid to the side of her. I kept my left hand wrapped in her hair so she faced me, looking at me. My right hand was all over her body, cupping and squeezing her tits, stroking her side, tummy, and fondling—a lot!!—her cunt. Her curves, skin, hair, and the form of her pussy against my eager prick made me delirious, even a bit spacey. I held her head, anchoring her by gripping her hair behind her little ears, and undulated my body back and forth over hers. I rubbed my prick back and forth against her pussy.
Now I was rubbing it up and down, along the pale pink lines of her slightly moist pussy crack. Karen was staring up at the ceiling, with all its peeling paint, and I was energetically nuzzling her hair, kissing her, licking her ears, and speaking all manner of filth into them. “Maybe you’re important at school or at your yacht club, girly, but here you’re just a cunt for my cock!” After a minute or so of this, I put a knee between hers, and grunted, “Open your legs virgin!”
I could feel Karen tense up. She knew it was coming, but instinctively balked at this, her moment of tragic truth. She put her hands against my shoulders, intuitively pushing away, albeit weakly. I batted them away, capturing her wrists over her head. Securing her, I growled, “Don’t fight, girl. Don’t resist. You fight me, and I’ll beat the shit out of you. I love beating pretty girls, and the prettier they are, the more I like to fuck them over.”
“And you’re damn fucking pretty, you know?”
I could feel the fight go out of her.
“Go ahead…do it…” she whispered. “Just, just do it and get it over with. Please. Just do it…
“….(fuck me)….” Her whisper was barely audible. “………(fuck…..me)….just…get it over…with….”
Karen’s voice was almost a whisper, dripping with defeat.
I didn’t waste any time. I released her hands, and they moved limply to her sides, her forearm out sideways and her upper arms crooked upwards. She looked vacantly off to the side, into space. With the knuckles and thumb of my left hand, I spread open her pussy lips, and I used my right to guide my girl-raper. I put my tip in, and was rewarded with the incomparable feel of young, slightly moist girl.
I pushed in.
Hard.
And pretty fast, too. All the way. She was dry, very tight—it felt almost abrasive. But that was compensated with the shock and pain that seared her face. Karen gripped the edges of the filthy mattress—I could feel the jolt—and arched her body, pushing her beautiful tits upwards, and her head back, as she let out the most beautiful full-soprano scream I ever hope to hear! “EEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeiiiyyyaaaaaah….EEEE!!”
I felt her maidenhead—she really, really was intact!—I shoved right through it, and I was in her, inside the lovely Karen’s cunt, all the way, deep, and she was warm, oh, so warm with her tightness–(there was some real friction!)—I plunged back in three, four, five more hard times. I was actually fucking, raping this perfectly beautiful, blonde, teenage virgin!
Karen gasped, grunted, and then issued another scream as I drove into her a few more times. I must have hit a nerve or something. A loud, full soprano teenage scream that filled the trash-strewn bedroom. She stiffened again, arched her back again and screamed again, flailing her arms about her sides. From the corner of my eye, I could see she had balled her hands into fists, and was kind of pounding the dirty mattress, issuing a bit of dust and a moldy odor.
She was so very, very tight, and dry. But if it was uncomfortable for me, it was agony for her. It took some real effort, but I was determined to fuck this girl mercilessly.
I pulled out a bit, and drove in, even harder, impaling my virgin schoolgirl with the full length of my rigid girl-raper. I buried myself inside her eighteen-year-old girlhood.
And then it got good. I started feeling some moisture, and thrust back into her again, then again and again: long, even, confident strokes. She felt so good, her cunt gripping my cock in an involuntary way. I lay on her for a moment, savoring the extraordinary experience of impaling this perfectly pristine Catholic girl! My victim settled down a bit, her face grim, a tear trickling out. She turned her head off the side.
Karen was so beautiful, naked beneath me, transparent with pain and anguish. I brushed her golden hair away from her head, and put my lips to her ear. “I’m raping you, Karen, I’m raping you,” I said, as I kissed and nuzzled her. Her glossy golden hair brushed softly against my nose and cheek. “You’re losing your virginity in this filthy place to a rapist. And neither of us will ever forget it. You’ll remember it for the rest of your life—your first fuck, here on this smelly mattress in this farm house.”
I pulled Karen’s face upright so she was looking at me, and gave her a big, wet, French kiss. Then I pulled my prick out, maybe halfway, and slammed it back into her, finding I could get in even a little deeper.
And Karen stiffened again. She kind of swept her arms over her shoulders, up and down, as I thrust into my lovely young teenager again.
Again.
And again.
And again.
I began fucking—or I should say, raping her, in earnest. Almost every thrust elicited a grunt, a groan, or a grasp of some kind. “Uh…uh!…oh, oh!…Owww…uh!” I propped myself up on my elbows, looking down at her, while my hips rose and fell at an even pace, and my virgin-fucker…fucked her! In and out, in and out, every stroke had become perfect pleasure. “Yeah, Karen baby, yeah, Karen, Karen, Karen, yeah, I’m fucking you Karen, my cock is goin’ into you, and I’m fucking you, fucking you, Karen, oh, Karen, you’re so beautiful, you gorgeous little teenage fuck, you’re my fuck-toy, Karen, you’re made for fucking, you’re just beautiful and made to be fucked, and I’m fucking you, Karen, Karen, Karen….” I caught my breath.
She was looking off the side, emitting a sustained “Oooooo….oh!…OOOOoooo….uh..UGH!”
“Karen, spread your legs some more, my Catholic little teenage fuck-toy, you’re getting it, huh? you’re getting raped, raped,--“ I put my face right to her delicate little ear, “Raped, RAPED! I’m RAPING you, Karen, my big cock is deep in your little pussy and I’m RAPING you!!”
She was loosening up, but just a bit, although a good bit more moist, and I continued raping my captive vestal virgin. “Ugh, oh, OH!” she uttered with each of my pumps into her. “Ugh, ugh, uh-uh-UGH!” Most of my strokes were about half-cock length, maybe a bit more, but I varied it. Sometimes I gave her a series of series of long, full-length thrusts, and those produced a real response: “Ugh! OH! Ugh-ugh-Ow-OW-OH! Ugh, huh, ugh…”
I was hurting her. Those long, hard pushes were intense, and after fifteen minutes or so I found myself approaching pre-climax. But as much as I wanted to come in this girl, and come hard, I wanted to really, thoroughly enjoy her, and to stretch the whole thing out. So I slowed down, and shoved myself into her as deep as I could. I settled down on her young body, relaxed, and took a bit of a fuck-break.
I did this a few times, at least. I think my rape of Karen must have lasted the better part of an hour, with these pauses.
Then I’d resume combing her long, glossy hair with my fingers, inhale her sweet, clean aroma, and talk dirty to her some more. I had all sorts of things to say to her, as degrading as I could come up with. “Hmmmm, yeah, Karen, squeeze my cock with your pussy, you little bitch. I’m going to teach you how to be a real slut! Come on, come on! Squeeze it tight—make me feel good, you spoiled little bitch, or I’ll make you hurt…ooooo…...that’s more like it, yeah….Your body is made for fucking, you know, Karen? You deserve to be fucked hard by every man who looks at you. All those boys at Catholic High, the priests, too! They all want to stick their cocks in you, too! You’re a hot kid, Karen, you’d get those faggot priests turned on, you know? Tell me what a little cock-teaser you are, tell me you’re a bitch, a real bitch--I wanna hear you say it!”
It took a bit of pinching her nipples, but I got her to participate in her own abuse.
“I’m a-a b-b-bitch,” she finally admitted.
“Tell me what a cock-teasing gorgeous bitch you are.”
“I’m a beautiful,…c-cock-teasing….bitch!,…”
I helped her articulate. “And you deserve to be raped.”
“And I d-deserve to be raped.”
With that, having successfully postponed my orgasm, I’d resumed raping her, and moved up on my knees and elbows, and started thrusting into her with short, very fast strokes. I had become a fuck machine, my prick pumping in and out of her, steady, like a piston. “You like it, Karen, you like it this way? Answer me!”
She was crying, but answered, “Yes! Yes! Yes! I like it! I like being fucked! I like the way you fuck me!” She tossed her head left and right. She must have been confused and scared as hell.
I stopped, and rose up on my arms—taking care to be sure that my prick remained firmly planted in her.
I slapped her. Again, and again, and again. I slapped her left, I slapped her right, and she brought her arms over her face.
“You lying slut! I know you hate this—how dare you lie to me, you prissy little cunt!”
And I started slapping her tits. I kept my dick planted deeply inside her, and grabbed her breasts, shoving them hard, every which way over her ribcage. She put her arms over her chest, so I slugged her in the side of her head with a fist.
All the while, keeping my groin pressed hard against her belly, and my prick firmly implanted in her pussy.
“You’re just fuck-meat, you slut! You’re a beautiful and popular and rich and religious teenage girl, but out here, you’re just fuck-meat! But you don’t lie to me, slut!”
“Okay-okay-okay-I-hate-it-I-hate-it-you’re-hurting-me-you’re-hurting-me-oh-it hurts-it-hurts-my-vagina-hurts-so-much-so-much!”
My victim was getting hysterical, and I backed off. I didn’t want her to lose conscious awareness of every painful detail of her rape, so I lowered myself down on her, and wrapped my arms around her, joining my wrists at the small of her back. I had her arms imprisoned in a tight, possessive embrace.
I resumed fucking her with a moderate, measured pace. I held her tight, kept her firm, and my hips rose and fell over her, driving my prick in and out of her, in and out, in and out, nice and easy and nice and it felt so good. Karen began to settle down, sobbing but catching her breath.
And I fucked her.
Oh, I just went on fucking and fucking and fucking this perfect teenage beauty.
I raped her.
I fucked my beautiful, seventeen-year-old virgin, my adorable blonde Venus.
And my lust began to rise. I looked down at her, and after all this time, there was still this exquisite anguish on her face as I violated her pristine body. I could feel the lust in my balls, and my shaft, as good as it felt, was beginning to burn, and the burn got hotter, especially right at the tip. There was a sense of pressure, increasing heat, and a glorious, overwhelming sense of churning all around my cock as it slid in and out of her mist, but oh-so-snug girlhood.
“It won’t be long now, Karen, it won’t be long, and I’m going to come in you, I’m gonna finish fucking you and shoot my load deep in your sweet little body!”
She did something kind of strange, and impressive, too. She put her hands on my face, almost tenderly, like a lover, and looked me right in the eyes. “Please don’t come in me,” she implored. “Please. Please don’t. I beg you—pull out before you come. Please, please….”
But her entreaty was aborted. She obviously felt my climax.
It happened.
Suddenly, powerfully, abruptly.
I exploded. I pushed myself into her as hard and deep as
I could, plunging her female depths, and I simply burst open into her.
“Ohhhh,….no, no, no….” Karen sighed and moaned. It was too late, and she knew it.
There was another, sudden rush from my scrotum, and a fast squirt right up the center of my pole, and I was bursting more seed in her virgin womb!
“Yeah, YEAH, KAREN!” I nearly shouted, “I’m fucking you, I’m raping you, and I’m fucking coming in your virgin body!”
I paused, and yet another stream of jizz rushed up and unloaded into her.
Then another.
There was a short moment, and I pulled back, jammed myself back, back, deep into her tight girlhood, and still another shot of cum shot into her. It felt like I was flushing my soul, every particle of my evil soul, into her pristine body, right on this filthy mattress in this trash-strewn derelict farm house.
I slowed down, laying my weight on her lithe frame. I scooped her hair, and piled it on her side, my right, and burrowed my face in it. “Now you’ve been fucked, Karen. You were a girl, now I’ve made you a woman. You’re a real woman now, Karen, because you’ve had a man—you’re having a man—my penis is in your body.
“And my semen is in you, in your womb.
“Just think. Millions of my sperms cells are floating around inside you, starting their swim up, deeper into you. They’re going to crowd through you cervix, and the strongest ones will go up your fallopian tubes, looking for an egg to impregnate. Then one of them will penetrate the egg, just as I penetrated your virginity, and fertilize your egg.”
“Then you’ll get pregnant!”
I stroked Karen’s face, smoothing her lovely hair away from her temples. She was silent, breathing heavily, her eyes wet with weeping.
I could feel her heart beat, a fast pitter-patter.
The air around us was heavy with the odor of sweat and sex.
It’s hard to articulate, but I was, well, awed, by our union, as I beheld her teen loveliness, her classiness, her perfect body, the feel of my cock still inside her, and most of all, that I had taken this desirable virgin, kidnapped her, stripped her naked, and raped her.
I wiggled my cock. It was getting soft now. I pushed my loins in, keeping myself seated in her, because I didn’t want the rape to end.
Not yet.
We were quiet for quiet a while. I noticed that our breathing began to match. I kissed her occasionally, sometimes with my tongue, sometimes not, relishing the power of extracting kisses from little Miss Popularity—kisses that should have been won by worthy young lads, but were crudely seized by me. I stroked her body, memorizing her curves, and occasionally wriggled my soft prick so stayed pleasantly seated in her body.
I loomed over her face. “What has just happened to you?”
“You f-f-fucked me.”
“I raped you.”
“You raped me…you raped me.”
“Actually, my cock is still inside you, Karen, and I’m still ejaculating little bits of semen into you. So I’m still raping you, Karen. Say it. Say, ‘you’re raping me. You’re raping my virgin body.’ I want you to say it.
“You’re raping me. You’re r-raping my v-v-virgin body.”
“Say it again.”
“You’re raping me. You’re raping my virgin body.
Music to my ears. I wanted to rape her more, hurt her more, harm her, and spew more filth into her, and wound her in further and more unseemly ways. “There are probably thousands of boys and men who have looked at you over the years and wanted to do what I just did. And there will be thousands and thousands more, too, Karen! But I got you—I got you first. I’m the first of who knows how many men will put their hard penises into your body, you know that? You’ll fuck lots of men over the course of your life, but you’ll never forget me.
“I’m your first. Your first fuck. And I’ll always—always!—be the first man to have you!
I figured I was finally done She was one thoroughly, properly raped girl. I kissed her, pulled her really into a really tight hug, delirious with the feel of her.
Finally, I rolled off Karen. I pulled myself to my feet and leaned against the grimy bedroom wall, looking down at her. She was a luscious sight, sprawled on the stained mattress, her perfect teenage body naked curled into a ball. My lust, at least for a while, was sated. I had raped her, fucked her, defiled her, and satisfied my testosterone’s needs. But I still had an inexplicable desire to further “possess” her, to use an old-fashioned term. I wanted to have more of her, to imbibe of the young sweetness of her soul, and to violate that even more.
It was still afternoon, a bit late. I could probably keep her out here in the farmhouse for a few more hours, but unless I snuffed the bitch, I would have to get her returned to her mommy before too long, and in somewhat decent shape.
I also needed some form of coercion or control to keep them from reporting the girl’s rape to the cops.
Karen was motionless, obviously hurt in heart and body. I kneeled down next to her, stroked her hair, and ran my hands over her. Even now it was a thrill to cup her breasts, stroke her body, grope and fondle her moist pussy. I finger-fucked her, jabbing my fingers hard and deep into her cunt. She stared off to the side, passively allowing me the pleasure of her body.
I wanted her more.
I wanted more of her.
I wanted to utterly possess my sweet, lovely young Karen.
Evil ideas seized my sick, depraved mind. A plan began to take form in my thinking.
“Get up, whore!” I ordered.
Karen began to pull herself up. She seemed to reek of pain and humiliation. Her hands to her side, the abused young beauty faced me in all her vulnerable nakedness.
End of Part 1 of 3
|
|
|