Stories of a Professional Rapist

About a year after I started my current profession, I ran into a string of jobs that left me bored.  One of my clients had been a frat boy who had wanted the frisson of fucking his girlfriend knowing that she had been raped, and was emotionally tormented by it.  The job went well, and I proceeded to get a string of similar jobs, all targeting similar women:  pretty, spoiled, weak coeds.  Sure, the money was good, and the jobs were low risk, but there really wasn't much challenge, since the client didn't want much besides their girlfriends to have suffered a traumatic rape, and the women themselves weren't very interesting.

So, when I got a job that promised to be completely different, although it was somewhat outside my comfort zone, I was intrigued.  The target was the client's girlfriend, a cute little blond number with nice breasts, a sweet ass, and a shaved cunt.  According to the client, she was "a bit too timid in the sexual department, «didn't» like to suck cock and «he» really almost had to throw her down and rape her to fuck like «he» wanted to."  Truthfully, I was a little surprised, since he had sent me nude pictures of her posing on her deck.  In my experience, any slut that lets you take pictures of her holding her quim open for you will pretty much be willing to do anything, but, apparently, as much as this girl liked to tease in public, she was reserved in bed.

As I read a little bit more about her from the client's description, I became intrigued.  Here was a girl, spunky, gregarious, a little bit immature, with a wild side she kept bottled up.  According to the client, she was quite sensitive, and would most likely fold at the merest hint of pain or emotional distress.  He wanted her completely turned out, completely submissive to his every sexual demand, willing to do anything to keep him by her side.

I get a lot of requests like that, from people who read too much fantasy or watch too much porno.  People just don't work like that; without a great deal of time and complete and constant physical control over someone, it is almost impossible to break them for any sustained amount of time.  Damage them, yes; break them, no.

Rebecca, though (her name was Rebecca), promised to be another thing altogether.  From the description, it almost seemed as if she was begging for a strong hand, a man to take her and user her like the teasing little slut she knew, deep down, that she was.  In her case, it might just take a little work to bring out that need, that hidden desire.  As an added bonus, the client was promising that I could spend a long three day weekend with her in her own apartment, the first time I would spend more than six hours with any one girl.  The idea of having 24/7, unrestricted access for three days to this girl excited me.  I decided to check her out myself, to see if she was as described, and arranged with the client to enable me to watch her at their favorite club.

The girl could dance, and clearly loved it, loved the attention and the eyes that seemed to be drawn to her as she swung her hips around the dance floor.  I could almost sense her weaknesses, the soft exhibitionism that drove her, the hidden narcissism that saw herself as the center of everything, and the trepidation keeping her from going too far, from being too wild, too needy.  I took the job, licking my lips at the thought of brutalizing this weak, needy young woman.

The setup was simple.  My client would start a public argument with his girlfriend just before the upcoming three day weekend, which would give him an excuse to avoid calling her all weekend.  Also, since she had cleared her schedule to be with him for those days, I wouldn't have to worry about her friends or family bothering us.  Using a key my client would leave hidden outside of her apartment, I would enter her apartment that evening, keep her under my control for three days of use, and then leave her to be found by my client.  The riskiest part would be entering her apartment, followed by how to keep her under control for three full days.

I took a long time preparing my kit, since it needed to fulfill several purposes:  to keep me alert for three days; to keep her submissive for the same amount of time; and to break down that brittle barrier she had, to expose the dark need to be controlled I sensed in her.  For this girl, fear and pleasure and humiliation would do the job, with only light touches of pain to keep her in her place.

Come the evening I trailed my client and my victim as they went out clubbing, hopping from place to place, Rebecca growing wilder and wilder, her inhibitions loosening with the booze and the music and the dancing and the male eyes devouring her as she displayed her tight, sexy body.  I watched as, early in the morning, they began making out in a dark, private corner of a club, his hands all over her.  I watched the whispering, the pressuring, and then the fight as she denied him, followed by him storming off, leaving her trailing after him, both leaving in separate cabs.  It was cleverly done, I thought.  He had pressured her for some sort of almost-public sex, it had been clear, and used that as a pretext to anger when she refused.  There was probably some history which made it real, I guessed, but it didn't really matter.  She would be back in her apartment soon where our meeting would take place.

I waited until about four, two hours after she came home, before I entered her apartment.  I used a small flashlight to see my way to the bedroom of her one bedroom apartment, taking quick inventory of the basic layout of the apartment, her furniture, her kitchen, and her bathroom.  Putting on my hood, I entered her bedroom, shielding the light, stepping quietly over to her bed.

She was sleeping on her back, her covers twisted about her limbs, her breathing heavy and deep.  I watched for a moment, and carefully placed a halothane soaked rag over her mouth and nose, letting her slip deep into a drugged sleep.  Based on the amount she had inhaled, I guessed that she would be out at least two hours, plenty of time for me to set up.

Leather cuffs went around her wrists and ankles, metal loops allowing me to tie them to the head and foot of her bed, respectively, leaving her spread-eagled on the bed.  I used a knife to remove her clothes, leaving her naked.  A collar went around her neck, the black leather contrasting wonderfully with her pale skin.  I got out a small egg vibrator and placed it between her legs for later use, letting my hands slide over her wonderfully firm body, squeezing her perfect b-sized breasts and tweaking her large pink nipples.  I took out a ball gag and harness and put it beside her head.  I was in an apartment building, after all, and I didn't want her screaming when she finally came out of her drugged state.

Satisfied that I was as ready as possible for her to awaken, I took a closer look around the apartment.  I took all of the phones and moved them to her linen closet, leaving the cords in place, thinking I might have fun with them later.  I also went through her kitchen and moved the most obvious items that might be used as weapons into a single drawer, and used some duct tape to cover it, making it unlikely that she could get at them quickly.

I moved some furniture around, leaving a large open space in her great room, and got out some of the DVDs I had brought and set them beside her DVD player.  I checked out the fridge and her cupboards, happy to see that she had plenty of food to last the both of us through the long weekend.  That done, I went back in and checked on my victim, loving the sight of this hot, shaved twenty-something tied spread-eagled to her bed. 

To kill time before she awoke, I decided to play with her a bit, to see if I couldn't get a physical reaction from the little sex-pot even while she was unconscious.  Dripping some lube over her cunt and breasts, I started slowly and methodically rubbing her erogenous zones.  A woman's body is a wonderful thing, so responsive to physical stimuli, so easy to manipulate.  Within ten minutes blood had swollen her cunt open, her labia bright pink and glistening with her own juice, her clit hard under its hood, her nipples firm and pinched.

I started working her clit now, pinching and pulling it, trying to tease it from its protective hood, disappointed when I realized that she just wasn't built that way.  I kept adding more oil, keeping her unconscious body stimulated as her breathing became more normalized, her eyes fluttering in real sleep.  I moved up to lay next to her, my lips inches from her cheek, my hand still slowly caressing her swollen cunt, teasing her sensitive flesh. 

I watched as her eyes fluttered open, groggy and fogged, and then her body jerked slightly against her bonds as she tried to move, followed by shock as she focused on my face.  Her whole body tensed as she tried to sit up, panic lighting those beautiful blue eyes, her mouth widening for a scream.  I rolled over onto her, my body crushing hers into the soft mattress, one hand covering her mouth, stifling her scream, the other locked around her neck.   I held her like that for a minute until her panic subsided to mere terror, and removed my hand from her neck and lifted the ball gag up for her to see.

She whimpered when her eyes saw the gag.

"Now Rebecca, you are going to open your mouth and I'm going to put this between your teeth.  Do you understand?"

I waited for a slight nod of her head, and until she breathed out.  I removed my hand from her mouth and fear made her compliant, her mouth wide, accepting the gag easily.  I took a little longer than necessary binding the harness around her head, locking the gag in place, letting her feel how tightly she was bound  and how completely she was at my mercy.  She had closed her eyes and I saw tears beginning to leak from them.

Still laying on top of her, I began to speak.

"You don't know me Rebecca, but I know you, know your type.  I saw you with your boyfriend at Club ___, dancing, flirting, shaking that sexy little body of yours, and I thought, there's another one, there's another teasing little slut, turning herself on by making all the men around her want her, desire her, need her.  Isn't that right, Rebecca?  You like being sexy, you like being looked at, don't you?  It didn't bother me, really, Rebecca, it didn't, because I saw you had a boyfriend, and I figured that you would be spreading your sexy legs for him, turning all the sexual energy toward pleasing your man.  But you couldn't do that, could you?  I saw it all.  I saw the way you pushed him away, the way you rejected him.  All he wanted was a quickie in the back, and you, for all your teasing and flirting couldn't do that."

I rolled halfway off of her, letting my hand gently rub her taut stomach, enjoying the heat of her flesh against my hand.

"That's the problem with girls like you, Rebecca.  I've seen so many like you.  You don't realize what you really want; you deny who you really are.  You don't understand me, do you Rebecca?  Well, you will.  You see, I know you.  I know that you love flirting and attention and teasing not just because you love the attention, the male eyes boring into you, devouring you, imagining what it would be like to take you.  No, it's also because, deep down, deep deep down, you are really hoping that one of them will see you really want, to be free from any inhibitions at all.

"But you can't let that happen on your own.  You need to be pushed, pushed harder than your boyfriend pushed in that dark little alcove in the club.  What would have happened, Rebecca?  What would have happened if he had pushed harder, had taken you by the hair and held you against the wall and just raped you, Rebecca?"

I slid my hand down until it was gently massaging her still swollen and lubricated cunt, enjoying the way her body tensed and the way she sobbed. 

"Would you have screamed, Rebecca?  Would you have screamed as he raped you?  I don't think so.  I think you would have wrapped those sexy legs around him and cum harder than you had ever cum in your life.  It would have been liberating to you, Rebecca, to be forced to be that slutty, that exhibitionist.  You wouldn't have had a choice, like now.  Now you don't have a choice."

I took the egg shaped vibrator and turned it on, placing it against her exposed clit, watching as her thighs clenched and her stomach trembled as I violated her.  I turned to a better position, holding the vibrator in place, my other hand turned up, two fingers sliding into her tight, wet snatch, making her moan and sob and tense her body, trying to reject me.  I pushed in as far as I could go, bending my fingers up to press hard against the upper wall of her cunt as if I were trying to feel the vibrator tormenting her clit through her flesh.

I began finger fucking her in earnest, her breasts heaving as she sobbed at her violation.

"Why are you crying, Rebecca?  This is exactly what you need, to be taken against your will.  I know you don't believe me, but your body doesn't lie, does it?  I can tell you're feeling it, feeling the pleasure I'm giving you.  My hand is dripping with your fluids.  Feel it.  You're going to cum for me, you little slut."

I started rubbing the vibrator in small circles over her clit, enjoying the way her breathing quickened, her nostrils flaring as she tried to get more oxygen, her hips jerking ever so slightly in her bondage, her tight snatch squeezing my fingers involuntarily as I worked the tender flesh fast and hard.  I was a bit surprised at how quickly she was approaching orgasm, but then I had been teasing her unconscious flesh for over an hour.

Her sobbing had stopped, to be replaced by small gasps and cries, muffled by the ball-gag as I forced her closer and closer to an unwanted orgasm.  Her eyes were tightly closed, and her head turning back and forth in denial.  I felt her cunt clamp down on my fingers, fluid gushing from her cunt, her thighs trembling and shaking, her back arching, grunting, shrieking noises coming from behind the gag as she came.  I didn't stop, instead increasing my efforts, finger-fucking her faster and harder, my fingers curled up inside her body, the vibrator pressed hard against her clit as her hips jerked through her cum.

"Oh yes, slut, this is what you want, complete freedom to cut loose and feel.  Cum for me again, Rebecca.  Cum for me again."

She was crying out from behind the gag, her neck arched up, her hips bucking against my hand and the vibrator, trying to dislodge the overwhelming sensations I was driving into her body.  I held my place, continuing to stimulate her overstimulated flesh, my fingers flicking her cunt juices all over her thighs and my arm as they continued to drive in and out of her snatch.  I smiled as her whole body tensed again and she cried out as another orgasm took her.

She collapsed down on the bed, her sharp cries turning into soft sobs through the gag, humiliation turning her cheeks red.  I slid my hand, covered in her spend, over the insides of her thighs and across her stomach, making sure she felt the result of her unbridled lust.  I teased her nipples, hard with her lust, and drove my point home.

"That was so sexy, Rebecca, so sexy the way you came twice for your rapist.  I knew you'd love it, knew you'd cum for me.  Like I said, I know you.  This is something you need.  Don't worry, we have a plenty of time to play, to let your true self come to the fore, to free you to become the true slut you are."

Her sobbing continued, tears filling her blue eyes as they tracked me as I grabbed a chain from my kit, attaching it to one of her ankle cuffs.  I released her cuff from the bed and brought her legs close enough so I could attached the hobble chain to her other ankle cuff; there was no reason to give her her freedom during her ordeal.  She lay submissively on the bed, still bound to the bed frame, her breasts rising and falling enticingly as she closed her legs and turned to the side, her sobbing slowing as she watched me pull out a shock baton.

"Now, Rebecca, you are going to do everything I want when I want it, aren't you?"  I asked, smiling at her through my mask.

She nodded fearfully, and I pressed the shock baton against her stomach.

"Just to make sure you know what will happen if you don't, here's a little taste of the least I will do to you."  With that I pressed the button on the baton, sending voltage pounding into her flesh.  She screamed through the gag, her eyes wide with pain and terror as her muscles cramped in agony, her body jerking violently away from the baton, leaving her shaking in reaction.  I grabbed her face in my hand, squeezing, and forced her to look into my eyes.

"Do you understand, slut?"

Beautiful blue eyes filled with tears and fear, she nodded, her sexy body still trembling.

"Good."  I leaned over her, letting her feel my chest pressing down against her face, another proof of my control over her, and undid the chains connecting her wrists to the bed.

"Now get down on the floor, Rebecca, on your knees."

I stepped back, still holding the baton, waiting as she slowly folded her legs beneath her, her eyes down, her mind still trying to come to grips with what was happening to her.  She slid those sexy legs off the side of the bed and a soft whimper came from behind her gag as she turned her head toward me, begging me with her eyes and body to release her.  I don't know why they do that; they should know that that look, that helpless pleading look, with eyes wide and damp with tears, is like a red flag to a bull for men like me.  I stepped forward quickly and slapped her across the face, rocking her head hard to the side, the sound of flesh on flesh vicious.

Slapping a woman across the face is very personal.  It's a violation of her space and her body in a very intimate manner, second only to sexual assault, in my experience.  When trying to control a woman, a slap across the face shocks and dismays, and demonstrates power, restrained power, power that could be used in a much more brutal manner.  A simple punch to the gut, although more brutal, is many times less effective, because you are not striking at such a personal, vulnerable place.

"I thought you understood, Rebecca.   You do what I want when I want or I hurt you.  Unless you like being hurt.  Is that it, Rebecca?"  I grabbed her by her nipples and started squeezing and twisting, her body shaking and turning as she tried to escape.  Terror filled her eyes as she looked at me, her head shaking back and forth, strangled sounds coming from behind her gag as she begged me to stop.

I let her go and stepped back.  "Now, let's do this again.  On your knees."

This time she sank quickly to her knees, looking like a vision kneeling before her bed before me, her long blond hair shading her face, her body slender and curved, her flesh smooth and pale under the bedroom lights, the harness gag emphasizing her submission.  I handed her a leash.

"Attach this to your collar."

I waited and watched as she fumbled with the leash, a blush spreading over her face at the humiliation of being forced to leash herself.  Her boyfriend was right, I thought, watching her body language, seeing the defeat etched there, the submission to her fate.  Even though most women would do what I asked, in small ways they would remain defiant, trying to hold onto a little bit of their dignity as I abused them.  It would be visible in the way they held their bodies, the way they responded to my commands; it would show that they were trying to hold onto a little piece of themselves that I couldn't touch.

This girl, though, was resigned, body and mind.  She feared, and let that fear consume her, her weakness making me think that I might be able to turn her into something somewhat along what my client wished, a submissive sexual plaything.  To make that happen I would have to destroy her self-worth, to make her feel like a nothing, a nobody, to abuse and humiliate and degrade her so much in the next three days, and to involve her in her own debasement, that she felt that she had nothing to offer anybody, that nobody could want her as anything besides a thing.  Then, when I left, she would hold onto the one person she thought cared for her for her as hard as she could, willing to do anything to keep him, fearful that he would start to see her as I made her see herself.

"Hand me the leash." 

She didn't look at me as she handed me the other end of the leash.  I stood next to her, leaving a little slack in the leash, and simply said, "Heel," and started walking out of her bedroom.  She started shuffling forward on her knees before whimpering and dropping down on her hands and knees and crawling out into her living room besides me.

If you've never had a naked, leashed, collared woman crawling at your feet, I recommend it.  It is...satisfying.

I stopped her in front of the television, and told her to sit, with her hands kept flat on the floor.  She kept her head down, not looking at me, as she obeyed, and I went and turned on her television, starting the DVD I had selected for her.  It was a Japanese porn movie called 'Game Over', where a young woman is captured, raped, and kept in a cage as a sex slave, all done with Japanese style.  There were no sub-titles, but it was reasonably easy to follow.

"Down on your elbows.  Ass up.  Knees apart.  Keep your eyes on the tv."

Satisfied at her speed in obeying my commands, I walked around behind her, enjoying the way her back arched as she struggled to keep her neck up to watch the humiliating images on the screen.  She flinched and trembled when I placed my hands on her firm buttocks, squeezing and massaging her muscular ass, the trembling of her body making me hard.  I stood and quickly undressed.

"I'm going to rape you now, Rebecca," I said, my fingers sliding up and down her slit, still damp from her previous cums, her body trembling in humiliation and dread.  "Try not to cum too many times."

She sobbed when she felt my cock press against her from behind, and I'm guessing she closed her eyes, and tried to close her ears against the high-pitched begging coming from her television as one of the women was getting fucked.  I slid easily inside her warm, wet sheath, bottoming out against her ass, my hips flattening her sexy ass, her cunt tight around my shaft.  Her crying shook her body, making her cunt tremble around me, sending delicious sensations through my body.

I took it easy, slowly sliding in and out of her, fucking her slowly and methodically, every fix or six strokes I would pull out and stroke my cock across her clit a few times, keeping the confusing mix of unwanted pleasure and humiliation swirling around in her head.

"You've got a nice, tight cunt, Rebecca.  So nice and warm and wet.  You'd almost think you were enjoying getting raped, Rebecca.  But that's impossible, isn't it, Rebecca?  Only worthless sluts enjoy getting raped.  Unless you're a worthless slut," I mocked her.  "Oh yes, Rebecca.  This is great.  You know all those men you tease every time you shake your ass on the dance floor?  You know them, the ones who make you tingle knowing they want you?  This is what they want.  They want you on your knees with their cock up your cunt.  You know that, don't you, Rebecca?  You know what you are to them, and it turns you on.  You know what you are to me, too, don't you, Rebecca?  You're a piece of meat; a fuck-toy; nothing more than a thing I'm going to use for my pleasure."

I kept it up for almost a half-hour, occasionally teasing her, slapping her ass every once in a while, enjoying the jerking of her body with each blow, sometimes leaning over her and playing with her breasts, switching my cock from sliding between her thighs to plunging in and out of her tight, wet cunt, keeping sexual energy thrumming through her body, never pushing her close to orgasm, but then again never letting the pleasure fade enough to let her imagine that she wasn't responding to her rapist.

When I was close, I pulled out and walked around to her face, her eyes big as she saw my cock, hard and slick with her own juice.  She whimpered as I grabbed her head by her harness and dragged her from her elbows to her hands, my other hand stroking myself, the tip of my cock against her upper lip, stretched around the ball gag.  She flinched as I came, my cum splattering across her lips and face.

Satisfied, I grabbed her by her hair and pulled her up to her knees, her hands falling to her sides as she watched me as I looked down at her.  I stepped back and stood in front of her, to the side of the television (now showing a scene where the woman was in a cage) and simply said,

"Start masturbating.  I want to see you cum in the next ten minutes."

She looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes, tears streaking her face, her mouth obscenely distorted by the ball gag, the black leather harness framing her beautiful face, and shook her head, her hands coming up as if to beg me to stop.  I folded my arms.

"You have ten minutes, slut.  If you don't cum within ten minutes, I'm going to hurt you really, really badly, and then we are going to do this again."

She leaned back onto her heels, her head hanging down, her hands held defensively in front of her pussy, soft sobs coming from behind the ball gag.  She didn't look at me, she didn't move, she just knelt there while I stared at her.  She wasn't going to do it, I realized, starting to think how best to punish her.  Something simple and humiliating, I thought.  Basic and painful and infantilizing would be best.  I pondered as I waited for her ten minutes to pass.