Raping and Abusing

The Drunk’s Date

Introduction and Disclaimer

       This story is fiction.

       It contains graphic descriptions of the rape, degradation, and physical abuse of a beautiful, innocent high school girl.  It is intended as sordid entertainment, and nothing more.  If such content is offensive to you, or were to encourage you to engage in similar activities, then close out this page.

       It is based on a young guy and a girl I actually observed one night some time ago.  The girl is just as beautiful, wearing a beautiful, feminine silk dress, as described.  Her boyfriend/date became obscenely drunk, and I actually located police services to look after them in their plight.

       But the girl would have been an incredibly easy mark to victimize and rape.

       The story that follows describes what I wish I could have done!

*                                                                            *                                                              *

       I am a creature of the night.

Ordinarily, I’m a helper, a fixer.  I’m out at ungodly hours—and I mean ungodly!—in my van. I fix the things that go break in the night.  Like cable connections, car alarms, broken windows, busted door locks, leaky pipes—all sorts of things.  Out in my non-descript white van, I wait for the calls from my dispatch service, and hang around,   until somebody pays me to fix something.

       Like one night, a few weeks ago.  There wasn’t any business, so I was in the club district chillin’ and killin’ time.  It’s bright, entertaining, full of energy, and I can often pick up quick cash jobs, like car lockouts and dead batteries.  And there are lots to see.  Lots of girls and guys, often drunk, sometimes astonishingly stupid, or just foolish and funny.

       But then, there is another side of me, the darker side, which connects with the gaudy neon and the dark shadows of the night.

       An evil side, one steeped in malice and lust.  And that is what I intend to tell you about.  A time when I was able to indulge that pernicious side.

       When I raped and ruined a girl.

       A nice, old-fashioned girl.  A very lovely, sweet girl—the kind guys want to bring home to meet their parents. 

       Her name is Stephanie.  And she is, er, was, well, just beautiful and innocent beyond description.  Very much an All-American girl.  The “girl next door,” and all that.

       It was her skirt that first caught my eye. Or more accurately, her dress. They were across the street, this guy and girl, but I couldn’t help but notice her skirt.  It was off-white, a kind of a peach, box-pleated thing, cut right at her smooth, slender knee.  First of all, girls in this section of the club district tend to go out in hot-tease outfits:  tight jeans, or Capri pants, and things, or sexy, “come-on-guy!” exhibitionistic miniskirts. But this girl was wearing something feminine and elegant, a silky dress that fell in large, generously cut, deep-cut pleats.  You don’t see them so much nowadays.  Nice, crisp, big pleats, about two or three inches wide, which fanned in and out and swayed to and fro.  She strutted along atop classy, high-heeled pumps which complemented the light beige-pink dress.   She was carrying a sweater in the comfortable night air, exposing a snug-fitting sleeveless bodice which was modest but flattered a slender body with medium-sized bust.

Some girls can’t wear heels.  I don’t know why, they  kind of slouch forward and shuffle their feet.  But this girl could.  Smooth, slender legs, upright posture, and shoulders back—I could hear the distinctive click-click-click all the way across the street of three-inch pumps, darker when contrasted to the pastel pinky-peach of her skirt and sweater.

And as she walked, the hem of her pleated dress swished and swayed, back and forth, fanning out occasionally as a bit of breeze caught the delicate fabric.  They went by a side street, and a gust caught the hem, pulling it out.  It was a very wide skirt, quite enchanting.

As the evening breeze lifted her hem, I noticed he was wearing a slip.  I like that on a girl.  Girls don’t wear them much nowadays.  Too bad.

She was all female.  So very female.

They were both dressed lightly for the warm evening.  He had on a sport jacket and tie, and showed breeding.

       Very classy, the both of them.

       And you could tell she was very much in love with him.  Very. She kept looking at him, and found little ways to touch him, to put a hand on his arm, to hold hands,  and when they passed me, I heard her use his name, Robert, softly, about three times in as many sentences.  Not “Bob” or “Bobby.” That’s a real give-away.

       But it was those pleats that riveted my attention.  Moving around those smooth, slender legs.

       They got to me.

       They kept drifting and swishing.  She had on sheer hose. But those pleats.

       Those pleats!

       Just swishing about smooth, flawless knees.

       A kind of a muted satin fabric.

       I watched her, and was, well, very jealous of that guy, Robert.  He seemed to sort of take her for granted. 

       I know I wouldn’t, if she were with me.

       But enough description.  Let me tell you what happened that night.

I got a call to board up somebody’s window, which some drunken idiot had smashed.  But that little girl, blonde hair brushed out and falling to the shoulders, sweet little tits pushing out against that snug dress, and those smooth legs scissoring back and forth within the circumference of those generous box pleats, had gotten hard-wired on my brain, like a continuous-loop video.

       That girl was etched on my brain.

       Blonde.  Her hair falling to her shoulder, curling about in big, round loops.

       Her silk dress.

       The pleated skirt.

       The skirt, moving about those perfect legs, her trim ankles, her elegant rose-hued heels.  I turned around, and headed for the job.

       My assignment service got me a few quick jobs.  Good money, but before too long I meandered back to the club district, to enjoy again the lights, the energy, and whatever the out-and-about crowd might have to offer.

       It was a several hours later, a bit before closing time, that I noticed those pleats again.  Probably two blocks away, crossing the street; there was no mistaking them!  Anxious for another peek at this classy fuckmeat,  I maneuvered my van and headed down the Boulevard, focusing on where I last saw those distinctive pleats, negotiating the heavy post-club traffic with my peripheral vision.  I saw her—and her date—on the opposite side of the street, walking away from the bars, towards the side streets.

       “Robert” was drunk.  Very drunk!  He was staggering.  Pretty little Miss Box Pleats looked steady and upright to the point of prim.  She could have been heading into Easter church service.  After a warm day and evening, it had gotten unseasonably cold.  Spring had just disappeared, and it was now  winter again--windy, with a bit of snow.  She had her sweater on, buttoned tight.  Robert was oblivious to the biting cold, his jacket  open, wit his shirt-tail and tie were loose underneath it, everything flapping in the wind.

       As was her skirt.  Those pleats.  Blowing and billowing in the near-gale breeze, exposing her slip, her shiny slip, shimmering in the night street lights.  I drove past them, and pulled over, watching them, in my van mirrors, catch up and walk past me. He couldn’t notice they were being followed (or was it being stalked?)  and she was preoccupied with her stumbling inebriated boyfriend.   Then I leapfrogged them a half block, and stopped again.  They crossed to my side.  I studied her as they walked past.

       I realized that I had evolved from voyeur to predator.

       Damn, I wanted her. 

       To fuck her.

       To have her.

       To possess her.

       To take her.

       She looked so virginal, so very pure!

To deflower her.

       To mate her.

       To rape her!

       I heard her scolding him, as she assisted her drunken boyfriend, guiding and steadying him.   I couldn’t make out the words, but she had her hands full:  Robert was all over the sidewalk, bumping into things, leaning on her, and she was trying to keep a hand on her skirt, it was blowing about so.  Occasional blasts of wind would really blow her box-pleated dress, slip and all, up high, displaying perfect panty-hosed legs and panties underneath.

       And she was cold.  Her hands in turn clutched her sweater tight against her trim torso, steadied Robert, and pushed down and pinched her blowing pleats.  Then she’d have to hold up the staggering preppie, and her dress was whipped out again.  He was apparently oblivious to all this—but I wasn’t!

       A gentleman would have his jacket around her, and suffer the cold himself.  But Robert’s jacket was half off his shoulders, blowing in the late Winter wind.

       Then they turned up a side street.  I waited a moment, and turned.

       I was now, officially, a predator. 

       I was perniciously obsessed with this girl in a peculiar way.  She looked young—nineteen, maybe eighteen; she could pass for sixteen, maybe.  Yet she was out late at the bars.  Fake ID, I’m sure.  “Robert” didn’t look much older.  She was devastatingly pretty in such  an old-fashioned way, with her golden blonde hair brushed straight back and flaring to her shoulders, were it ended with an even wave, although it was really wind-tusseled about her face.  It was kind of waved at her back, and curled in around her neck and chin.  .She had nice, but not very protruding cheekbones.  Her chin looked small and round in the street lights.

       And that skirt, now in the protection of the side street, just swayed and fanned out gently in the quieter confines of the buildings.

       I wanted her in the meanest way, and I mean mean!   I was willing to take outrageous chances to get her, to have her, to push that satiny peach skirt up and drive my hard, lonely cock deep into her aristocratic body.

       I crept along in my van, watching, trailing, stalking them.  Young Robert stepped in between some buildings, and I could tell he was heaving his guts out, the asshole.  Little Miss Preppie stood behind him, dismayed.  There was a  lot of curb space, and I pulled over. I lowered the right-size window and called out.

       “You don’t seem to be doing very well there.  You need a hand?”

       The girl looked at me, numbly.  The boy emerged from the shadows, wiping his mouth with his jacket sleeve.  He removed a bottle out of his pocket and took a swig.

       What an asshole!  All this, and he was still drinking?

       He was a disgusting, slovenly incompetent mess. When I take a girl out, I dress right, look after her, and make sure she’s treated like a lady.  Young Robert was hardly “husband material.”

       What did she see in this slob, let alone love?

       I got out and approached them.  In a moment, I had found out that not only was he too drunk to drive, he couldn’t remember where he had parked his car! 

I heard him call her by name. 
It  was Stephanie.

       Stephanie.   Stephanie!  I liked that.

       I liked Stephanie.

       I wanted to fuck Stephanie.

       Sweet, lovely Stephanie.

       Pretty little fuck-bait Stephanie.

       Stephanie.

       Blonde, young, classy Stephanie.

       Stephanie!  I’m going to rape you, Stephanie—and your drunk boyfriend won’t be able to do a thing to stop me!

       Robert leaned against the building, oblivious, while I set up Stephanie. 

       “This is a rough part of town.  Why don’t I drive you around till we find Robert’s car?”  I offered.  Looking relieved, she agreed, and I opened the passenger door for the young lady.  “Come on, Robert,” Stephanie commanded.  She slid in, neatly smoothing her dress beneath her, and the pleats fanned to the sides of her slim hips.  “The front will fit only one passenger,” I explained, as I opened the back of the van, and I lead, half-carried,  Robert over to it.  I turned him around, and before the inebriate could do anything, I had a gag on his mouth, and bound around the back of his head.  I kicked his leg out, and he collapsed on the wet pavement.  A split moment later, I had his wrists crossed, and bound with a long nylon zip-tie.  I shoved  him up and in, and, even though he kicked a bit, got his ankles got similarly bound. 

       On the far side of the passenger panel, Stephanie was ignorant of her perilous state.

Sweet, innocent girl!

.  A bit of twine, and I brought his feet up behind his ass, and he was hog-tied to his wrists.  He moaned, put his head back, and  passed out like the dim bulb he was.

       I put a handful of zipties in my pocket, and got behind the wheel.

       Stephanie looked at me, a bit confused, but I calmed her with smooth patter. “We’ll drive around and see if we can find his car.  I hope you can drive it home—he’s not in any shape!  Now, what are we looking for….”  I chattered on, and lovely Stephanie opened up and told me just about everything I needed to know.

Gullible girl!   I told her maybe the best thing would be  to drive her to her home or her school. I found out she’s a senior at a nearby—and very exclusive—girls’ school.

       “Thank you so much, mister,” she breathes.  “I do wish Robert wouldn’t drink so much.  When he’s sober, he’s the most wonderful guy!  He’s on a full athletic scholarship—two sports, swimming and baseball!    I hate to think of the trouble he’d be in if his school found out he has this drinking problem….”

       Thanks, cupcake!   I think, just tell me what I need to know!  It explained why he was so beefy, and also alerted me to a risk factor, that he was strong.  But I could also use that information about his precarious scholarship status.

       I had the cream of American youth here!

  I moved down the side streets.  I know my way around, including some very dark and remote corners.  I looked at my prey, sitting demurely a few feet away, her skirt spread a little untidily on the work-stained front seat.   She pulled her peach cashmere sweater tight about her modest bosom, maybe a “B” cup?  Her knees and ankles were pressed together. So demure! 

       But her dress still captivated me.  The wide pleats were spread slightly to her sides on the rather grungy upholstery of the van seat, and fell to just over her knees.  Sitting, the hem of her dress was almost mid-calf.

       She was wearing nice, sheer pantyhose.  The light silky stuff.

       A bit of dainty white lace, edging a luminous silvery-white satin, peeked out from a small gap in the folds of her pleats. 

       The girl was a portrait in feminine modesty!

       I moved to an empty block and stopped.  “Would you mind leaning forward a bit?” I asked, casually.  “I have to adjust my side mirror.”  She accommodated me, and I leaned behind her, feigning a motion to the side window.

       “Just a bit more, please.”  She moved so the edge so her ass was just on the edge of  the seat, and her face was on the dash. Her curled hair was draped to the top of her shoulders.  “Uh, just put your hands down to your sides, would you please?”  Full of foolish trust, she did just what I asked, not realizing it made no sense whatsoever, except to make her vulnerable.  “Now put your hands back a little,” and I steered her near, left hand to the back of her hip.  I did the same with her right hand—stupid girl!—and I asked her to keep her head right down on the dash.  Amazingly, she complied!

       I had both her wrists, and yanked them behind her in a criss-cross, then wrapped a zip-tie around them.  Now she jolted, and it took a moment to feed the end into the lock, but even while she twisted and pulled, more in confusion than fright, I had the zip-tie mated, and pulled it snug.  Suddenly she comprehended just what had happened, and she turned and looked at me, eyes large with fright.

              “Whaaaat…??!!   What?  Mister—what—what—hey,. Hey!  You can’t—oh, no.  NO!   Robert—Robert!!”  she screamed.  She retreated against the car door.  I moved the van down the street while pretty little fuck-bait Stephanie screamed, hollered, called to her passed-out boyfriend, and screamed.  “Mister, you can’t do this!”  She tried to manipulate the door handle, but I sped up.    “ Stop—let me out!  I’ll—I’ll—this isn’t funny—you won’t get away with this!!—you don’t know who I am—mister—mister….please, Please!  What do,…do—do you want?    LET ME GO!!

I answered her question by putting my hand on her knee, and sliding her skirt up her thigh.  It exposed her slip—a very rich, satiny thing, generously cut, which fell about her tightly closed legs sensuously.  She squeezed her knees together, squeezing herself into the corner of the car. 

“No…no-no-no-NO-NO!  Not THAT!  Robert—ROBERT—ROB--ERT!!”  she screamed.

“He’s passed out cold back there, Stephanie baby,” I teased.  “And besides, he’s tied up at the moment.  Tied up with his booze, and, well, just tied up!”

I pushed her dress further up, piling it atop her thighs.  Her slip shimmered under the dashboard lights.

“No, no, no, no, please, please, not that, anything but that, not that, not-that-not- that-I-can’t, you can’t, I won’t let you, I’ll fight you, I’ll send you to jail for the rest of your life, no, not that, NOT THAT!”

“Not what?” I asked, just to play with her mind.

I steered down back streets that were even darker and more deserted.  One hand on the wheel, I pushed her dress all the way up to her lap, and stroked the top of her near thigh, through her silvery pink slip.

“To, to…to-to-mmmm,..make…love…to me..” 

She suttetered and gasped it.

“Well, if you must know, I’m not going ‘to make love’ to you.”

Stephanie looked at me quizzically.    I reached over, and pushed her slip up, and it joined her skirt bunched up at her lap.  Her medium-sized breasts heaved up and down. She was wearing sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose, and had pink satin panties underneath. 

The blonde curled her legs underneath her keeping her knees squeezed together.  She was rigid under my touch.

I stroked the top her thigh, my fingertips sliding to the inside surface, digging in to her pressed-together legs.  I noticed she was breathing hard underneath her light pink cashmere sweater.

I pulled back, and put both hands on the wheel as I wound through a maze of dark wintry streets.  “I’m not going to make love to you, Stephanie.”

She closed her eyes; her face frozen with shock and dread.

“I’m going  to rape you!”

She gasped, took in a deep breath, and then screamed—a loud, lungs-full-of-air, all-out soprano scream of terror and dread.

The fear, the dread, the terror—utterly thrilling!
            Then she began to “negotiate,” offering me money and promises not to tell the police if I would just let her—them--go.

       I gawked at her body, lusting for her in with unrestrained desire.  I ran my hand up the smooth, nylon-covered thigh while she squirmed desperately away.   Her legs were fantastic, possibly the nicest I had ever seen.  Her dress had slipped down, and I casually took the hem of her dress and flicked it back up. She continued to squirm and cringe.

       This was a very classy, feminine girl.  Not extinct, but getting rare.

        “Mister, mister, mister, please, please, no, don’t—oh, no,  don’t you have any decency?”

       “No.  None whatsoever.  I guess we’re just not meant for each other.  You strike me as a very ‘decent’ kind of girl.  And I’m anything but decent, eh?”

       I meandered through a maze of side streets as we drove deeper into the night.  She seemed dazed, not paying attention to where we were going.

       Good.

            “Mister…mister…” she softly intoned.  “I don’t know what I can say or offer you not to…do…anything…to me.  Please.  My family has some money, and we have some connections. Well, actually, we have rather a lot… If I ask my father to, well, help you out, I’m sure he would.  Do you need a job or something?  He has his own company…if I asked…”    I kept staring at her body, especially her hips.  “Please, just…don’t…”  her voice trailed off to a whisper.  “….Don’t…(rape…me)…(pleeeease)….” 

           She was whispering, actually whining,  with that young teenage voice. Her words died off as my hand slid up her slip, caressing itself against the satin shimmering beneath the dashboard lights. I pressed down on her thigh a bit, and gave it a squeeze.  She gasped.  

       I pulled over to a dark side of the road.  Inner-city nowhere.

       I grabbed her hair at the top of her back, dragging her to the center of the seat and shoved her against the seatback.  With my other hand, I brushed across her breasts.  She sucked in her breath and held it.  Then I just grabbed her right tit, cupping it, fondling it, massaging it, and finally squeezing it.  I just had to sample the pleasures in store for me.

       “Please, please….mister…don’t…”  she pled again in that little voice.  “Oh…..”

       My hand moved to her other tit.  Through her soft sweater and dress, I could feel the outline of her bra.  She was built medium and rather firm—whatever she was wearing under that silk dress was not heavy-duty underwear.  Her young, firm tits didn’t need much molding or support.

       I just pawed at her tits.  She took in measured breaths, looking straight ahead at the empty street.

       “Don’t. Oh, please, please…” she gasped,  “Stop, I’ve never… I’m not that kind of girl.  Really.  I mean…”  She was sighing, that demure bosom rising and falling,  and the first (of many!)  tears trickled down her high cheekbones. I moved South and stroked up and down her thighs, my hands  absorbing the soft femininity of her lingerie-covered thigh.  Something silky and soft sliding over nylons is incredibly sexy to me.  My movements went higher and higher, up a little, down a little, and up a little more--until my fingers were well under the bunched-up pleats at her lap.

              I pushed her down and she was lying back on the van seat. Her glossy blonde hair spread across the grubby, stained upholstery.   One leg was dangling under the steering wheel, the other twisted back under her ass.   I further explored the curves at the bottom of her torso, sliding about her hips, her belly, the top of her thigh, the bottom of her belly, and I groped her crotch through her panty hose, just shoving my fingers up against her pussy.

       “Oh…no…oh god oh god oh god ohhhhh…nooo… not that…Please..please?  Don’t…touch me…there, like that.”  Stephanie’s face was clenched tight with dread and loathing.   She rocked her head back and forth.   Her eyes were closed, but the tears still came, trickling down her temples to her ears.

           I lay  down upon her, as much as the confines of the van seat  and the steering wheel would allow.  Her dress was still bunched up around her hips.  I put my weight on her, squeezing her tit.

       “Ooooowwwwww!”  The strap at her wrists was probably pretty painful now.

       Good.

             I pushed my face deep into her lush blonde hair and growled into her ear, “Listen, Stephanie baby, you better understand you’re in a world of shit right now.  You’re in the middle of nowhere, your boyfriend is drunk, passed out, and tied up in the back.  If you don’t want to get hurt—or worse!—you better be a good girl. 

       “A good girl—a very good girl--to me.  Got it?”

She kind of moaned,  with a tone that suggested assent.
       “Me master.  You fuck-toy.  You’re going to be fucked, Stephanie.  Fucked!  Or raped, which is the word I prefer.”  The girl was really sobbing now, emitting a low sound, kind of a moan mixed with the word, “Noooo….please, I—I—my family—my daddy, he, we, can help you, there’s, there’s…money…”

        I was breathing really hard now.  “We’re not going to talk about it.  Negotiate anything. Don’t try begging, or threatening, or offering me anything.  I don’t want anything.  Not your daddy’s money.  Just you, Stephanie. You!  Specifically,  your body.”

       Still holding her hair, I turned her head so she was facing me, and stroked her face.

       “Kiss me, Stephanie.

             She turned her head away, her face awash with anguish.  A lush swath of blonde curls fell across her face, which I brushed back and tucked behind her ear.   Then I slid my hand to her nape, and I pulled her head up towards me.

       “Kiss me.”

I ordered her quietly and calmly. Guys hope desperately for kisses from girls like Stephanie.  I wanted them too, but would just as soon force them from her. Her neck was stiff as I turned her to me.

       Stephanie kissed me.  Softly.  It was sweet, quite sweet, really.  I figured her lip gloss was watermelon.   “Again.”   She pointed her head up to me, gently puckered, and I kissed her some more, pressing down, harder.  “Keep your eyes open, cunt!”   They were beautiful, a bright azure blue, glowing even in the dim light inside the van. 

       My heart was racing.  How unbelievably nice, to kiss this sweet, lovely girl!  We kept kissing, and she quieted down a bit. 

I cupped, then squeezed that perfect tit, which made her stiffen up again. Even through the sweater and her dress her breasts had a great feel—firm, pushing up and out, and just a little bit pliable. I kneaded her right breast, squeezed it, and pulled at it.  I moved back  to her left breast, and gave it the same treatment.  Then I just roamed all over her breasts, chest, and stomach, feeling how nice her body was, kissing her all the time, and just feeling her up without restraint.

       And I was getting hornier—very, very hard. I freed the leg that was curled under her ass, and lay down on her, grinding her my crotch against her.  I wanted Stephanie to feel my erection through our clothes.

       It also felt good.

       I broke the kiss, looming over her.   I wasn’t feeling her up so much as I was assaulting her tits.  I squeezed them and started pinching her nipples through all that material.

       I started to unbutton her peachy-beige cashmere sweater.  It had tiny silvery pearl-like buttons, and I loosened each one, parting the fuzzy material.  Stephanie lay very still, almost hypnotized, looking up at the van’s celing as I unfastened each button, down to a bit below her tits.  I could just imagine what was going through her pristine young mind.  He’s doing it.  He’s really doing it.  He’s going to undress me, and then he’s going to rape me.  Oh-god-oh-god-oh-god I’m going to be raped and there’s no one around to help me! Am I fertile?  What if I get pregnant?  Is he carrying any STD?  AIDS?  Oh, no, he seems so…dirty!

       Well, I don’t carry any diseases, not that I felt like putting any fears to rest.  More fun to keep her anxious.  The sweater unbuttoned, I snaked my left hand inside and continued  my enjoyment of her body.  Her dress was satiny, just a little shiny, but it was smooth and sensuous as my hand slipped and slid over the curves of her tits.  It was a back-zipper dress.  Not many girls wear dresses, let alone “dress-up dresses” to the clubs around here.  Stephanie was a dainty treat right in the midst of the neon squalor.

       I forced more kisses onto her pliant lips, mashing my mouth, ravenously wet, all over hers.   I pulled at her mounds, then pinched her nipples through her clothes, and she yelped, jerking.

       She winced.  I squeezed some more, then squeezed her nipples through her layers of girly apparel. 

       A good, hard squeeze, right between my thumb and index-finger knuckle!

She let out a scream.  Then another.  Long, loud soprano screams which filled the van.  There wasn’t the least response from the inert boyfriend trussed up in the back.  Stephanie cried.  “Please—please—oh, stop!!--be gentle.  Don’t hurt me.  I’ll—I’ll do what you want.  Just don’t hurt me, and promise me you’ll let us go.  I’ll…I’ll do… anything you want me to.”

       “Anything.”  She added, in a weeping tone. “I don’t…handle…pain…very well.”

       “Well.  Well, well!  Then it will behoove you to accommodate me, hmm…?”   Stephanie didn’t answer.  I reached for her skirt again.  It had slid down, and I pulled it back up her thighs, and then pushed her slip up, too, so I could enjoy the view—and access to her legs.

       It embarrassed her a bit, too.  She instinctively squeezed her legs together.

       Damn, these shy, innocent girls excite me!  I wanted to pry into her soul before prying myself in between her legs.  I pulled her back to a sitting position, right in the middle of the seat.  She was crying as I re-arranged her pleats and her slip high up her thighs, fondled her boobs some more, and kissed her tear-stained face in mock-affection.  I pressed my lips to her cute little ears, and her blonde curls tickled my nose and chin.

       So nice!

       “Let’s get going, baby.  I have a nice cozy place for us to have some fun!”  She didn’t say anything, but kept crying, her wonderful teenage chest heaving with sobs. 

       I sat up, and pushed her head down onto my lap.  Then I drove on.   She lay curled up, her head pressing against my lap, and her pleated dress still pushed up to her waist. Her stockinged legs were gorgeous in the night lights.  I slid my right hand up and down her thighs,  along the curve of her hips, on top and on the inside, right up to her pantyhose crotch.  She was tense, but opened her knees when I told her to, and I dug my palm against her pussy while I drove.

            “What do you use for birth control, Stephanie?”

       She was quiet for a moment. 

       “Nothing.  I…I don’t…”

       “You don’t use birth control?”

       “No…I don’t…do…sex…so I don’t…” her voice trailed off,…”use the…pill.  Or anything.”  It was great hearing her confirm what I had suspected about her!

       In spite of the noisy van, it seemed as quiet as a tomb.  I knew what she meant, and was actually rather taken aback at my good fortune.  Not only had I happened upon this preppy dream-boat in a very vulnerable situation, and  had successfully exploited it, but I could look forward to deflowering a….

       “So you’re a virgin, Stephanie?”

       She was quiet for a moment, then answered me in a soft voice.

       “Yes.”

       I let out my breath.  Such unbelievable luck!  I don’t know why, but we guys just love being the first with a girl.  And here I was with this incredibly beautiful, classy girl—and she’s a virgin!

       “So you’ve never—ever—had a guy, I mean, a guy’s cock, um, I mean, you’ve never been fucked?”

       “No.”        

       “Well, have you ever done it with, like a guy’s fingers, or a dildo, or something?”

       “No.”

       “Nothing…nothing at all?”

       “No.  Nothing.  Nothing at all.  I hope you’re happy.”

       Actually, I was delirious!

       “Tell me you’re a virgin. I want to hear you say it.  Say, ‘I am a virgin.’”

       “I am a virgin.”

       I had one hand on the steering wheel, the other right up at her pussy, feeling her through her pantyhose.  “Again.  ‘I am a virgin, sir.  I have never given myself to a man.’  I want to hear it from you.”

       “I am a virgin.  Sir….I have never…given myself…..to a man.”

       Damn, it was exciting hearing her say it, even if I was making her into something of a puppet.  I kept pawing at her and drove the last several blocks to my rape lair, a vacant warehouse I tended.  I opened a delivery door, drove the van in, and shut the door.  We were now alone, not counting passed-out Robert.    Then I opened the passenger door.  There was my little Stephanie with the silky skirt all disheveled about her thighs and lap. 

She shrank away from me.

        I walked around and took a peak in the back of the van. 

       Robert was still passed out.

       The drunken asshole.  How could a guy get this drunk with a girl this beautiful?

       Maybe she drove him to drink!  I could imagine her turning him on so, then shutting him off, so he got into a state of frustration and compensated with booze.  Oh well, who the fuck cares? 

I returned to Stephanie’s door.  “Out!” I ordered.  She slid out, reluctantly and apprehensively, her skirt trailing behind her on the car seat.  She was rather awkward, what with her hands bound behind her.  Damn, I was getting hot for this girl.  That bit of nooky on the back street  had really affected me!

I impulsively grabbed her, and pushed her up against the side of the van and  just shoved myself against her, pinning her, pressing her against the sheet metal.  Oh, I wanted to devour this fuckbait!    Wrapping one arm around her slender waist, and the other gripping her at her nape, I just pushed myself hard against her, holding, hugging, and kissing her with greedy delight. For starters I just pushed myself against her, then I started grinding my crotch against her, back and forth, up and down.  Even with all our clothes on, I could feel her perfect adolescent curves. 

I broke the kiss, and pawed her tits, waist, hips and ass with wild abandon.  Then I gave her nipple a good hard pinch.

“Ow!  Please!  I thought you promised…!!”

I slapped her, several times, back and forth, first on her cheeks, then on her shoulders and breasts.  “I didn’t promise anything, cunt!”  I yelled, which seemed to really startle her.  Here in the empty warehouse, we could make as much noise as I wanted to! 

“Except to rape the hell out of you!”

I slapped her again.

And again.

Back and forth, back and forth, sending her baby-fine blonde locks flying about her head and shoulders. And just for sadistic kicks, I landed a fist deep into her flat, trim tummy.

“Ooooph!  OW!  Oh-oh-Oh-OH!!”  Stephanie yelped and hollered.  “Please, please, no more..no-NO!”

It felt good to rough her up, scare her, hurt her.  Stephanie screamed on as I slapped her.  Her hair was tossed back and forth over her shoulders.

“You going to be an obediant bitch and do what I tell you?” I demanded.

“Yes—YES!  I said I would, I did, I did, I did!”

I walked the girl around to the rear of the van, and opened the back.   Robert was still there, hog-tied, and dead to his girlfriend’s impending tragedy.   “Behold your knight, my princess!”  I laughed.

I picked up a handful of zip-ties, a coil of rope, and a couple of tools, a piece of dowling, and some pliers.  Then I slammed the doors.  A resounding silence came from inside the van.

         I had parked near the rear of the warehouse.  Taking a handful of blonde curls, I pushed her  towards some offices.  Intoxicated with the absolute, sexual  power I had over the girl—the freedom to enjoy her anyway I wanted!--I stopped a couple of times, and pulled her face to mine, forcing lewd, lustful kisses on her tender lips, kind of prefiguring the violation that was to come.  By now, she just parted her lips and I tongued her freely.  Her lips were fruity, and her breath had traces of wine on it.

There was a metal staircase, leading up to a catwalk alongside a row of empty offices.  With my hand gripping her at the nape, I led her ahead of me.  I was right behind, oogling her slender legs moving up, her skirt pleats swaying about her knees, and her pretty little feet with those high-heeled pumps.  I noticed for the first time they were a kind of salmon grosgrain satin. 

“Stop!  Stop right here!”  I ordered, half-way up.  She halted, her small feet separated on different metal steps, the skirt swinging back and forth, then motionless.  I put my hands on her lower ankle.  I moved up to her calf, which was smooth and slender, encased within the smoothness of her high-fashion hose.  When I reached her knee, the crisp hem of her pleated skirt gathered on my wrist with a pleasant, tickling feel.  I moved up and around her knee.  It was quite straight, with just a bit of dimpling.  Her other knee was bent on the rising stair, and I reached under her dress and found it, stroking it as well.  It was a little awkward, but I just  paused and enjoyed those legs.  I continued up, up under her dress, feeling the smoothness of her slip on my fingers and wrists, up her thighs, down a bit, up more, until both hands found her ass cheeks.

She had a firm, compact ass—no jiggle to speak of.  Her pantyhose was stretched smooth and tight over the firm curves of her butt.  I squeezed and stroked, while my sexy captive stood frozen on her two steps, my hands up her backside, under her dress.  I could feel the outline of her panties.  I savor  things like this on a beautiful girl—the subtle details of her femininity, her style, her lingerie.

Entertaining as this was, it was time to move on.  I really wanted to fuck this girl.

More precisely, I wanted to rape this girl!  To violate her, and to utterly defile her.  With her boyfriend in his condition, I figured I could keep Stephanie until dawn.

Now, how many erections and climaxes could I manage in the next four, five, or six  hours?  It was going to be fun to find out!, But still, I wanted to take at least a bit of time and thoroughly enjoy this prime, grade-A piece of girlflesh!

I gave her a slap on her rump, signaling her that it was time to move.  Up she went, the pretty creamy pink of her dress moving and swaying up the steps, and along the catwalk.

Every detail about her, the way she moved, enchanted me.

I found an office, and marched her in, putting on a bank of lights.  It was covered with a dull, dirty, gray carpet of an institutional texture.  Papers and abandoned office furniture were scattered about, some broken or turned over.  The place was littered with derelict coffee cups, ashtrays, yellowed newspapers, pizza boxes, and all sorts of crap.  The walls were a flat green, rather  dingy in the fluorescent lights.

“Welcome to our boudoir, my love!”

I turned her and undid the last buttons of the soft sweater, and slid it down her shoulders and arms.  Now, standing before me, I could see just what a knock-our she was.  She was five-foot-four, and about 115 pounds.  Her figure was impeccable:  she had a small waist with a flat tummy, so her tits—more modest than they had first seemed—looked larger.  And there was a smooth, gentle line to her hips. The dress had a modest scoop neckline, and fit her a bit on the snug side at her bust and down to her waist, where it opened up in those crisp box pleats that had caught my eye in the first place.  In these lights, the satin had a bit more sheen. 

“What’s your bust size, honey?”

“34-B.”

“Your measurements?”

“34-23-35.  34B-23-35,” she corrected.  “I’m five-foot four, and weigh 110 pounds, and wear a size four dress, sometimes a six or a junior five.  Are you going to rip my clothes off?  Please, sir, don’t!”

  “If I want to rip your dress off, I’ll rip it off.”  I put my hands at her neckline, and was about to just yank the silky thing off, but then reconsidered.

Instead, I used my grip on her bodice to maneuver her, and  backed her up against a ceiling column.  I picked up a length of wooden dowling. “Now stand there.  Don’t move—not an inch!  I’m going to get to know you better.  Resist me or try to run, and you not only lose any privileges to speak, but I’ll hurt you—hurt you bad.  Capeche?”

“Yes.”

“It would be a good idea if you called me ‘sir.’”

“Yes, sir.”

“Piss me off and I’ll beat you senseless with this—maybe shove it up your asshole!”  Stephanie shut her eyes, and nodded that she understood.

I took the doweling, and ran it gently down the side of her head, flicking her blonde curls a bit, and then down to her shoulders and forearms.   I stroked them with the wood.

“Sir, may I ask you something, please, sir?”

“Go ahead, talk.”

“If I promise not to fight or run, would you take these things of my wrists?  They really hurt so!”  The tip of the stick moved up and down her arm, then moved in to the inside curve of her waist, and it stroked her ribcage, her waist, and the gentle swelling of her hip, over the dress pleats.  “I mean, I know you hold all the cards, and I won’t…do anything, but it hurts so much!”  The stick moved about her hip, her upper leg, and then moved to the center of her hip, and rudely poked into her crotch.

“Tell me you’re a virgin again.  Tell me your name, tell me you’re a virgin, I want to hear it!”  The stick was digging against her pussy a bit, making an inverted tent of her skirt.  “Tell me your name, how old you are, that you’re a beautiful blonde, your measurements, and that you’re a virgin.  I want to hear you tell me you’re a virgin.  A lot! And that I’m going to be your first…fuck!”  I jabbed her crotch with the stick, to “drive” the point home.

“Sir, I’m eighteen years old, and my name…and I’m a virgin.  I’m, I mean, my name is Stephanie Davidson, and I’m …an eighteen-year-old…virgin.” 

I moved the wood up her arms, across the slope of her shoulders, and toyed with her hair with the tip.

She paused.

“Go on. Tell me just how beautiful you are and how all the guys want you.”

“Yes, sir.  I’m, uh, eighteen, but I’ve never, well, I mean, okay,  I’m a virgin, and I’ve never had a man before, and,…ummm. I’m a senior at the Woodside Academy, and I’m a virgin..yes, a real virgin”—she kind of breathed it out this time—“I’m five-foot-four, a hundred ten pounds,”—the doweling migrated to her breasts, drawing circles around each tit, then I poked her at the nipple,--“and my measurements are 34B, 23, 35.”  I poked each nipple, in turn, with the stick.  Stephanie grimaced.    “Lots and lots of guys ask me out.”

I jabbed a tit, dead center. She grimaced.  “Sometimes I let a guy feel me up, but only if I really like him.   I’m beautiful….yes, I’m beautiful,I know it,  and I’m a natural blonde, and, well, I guess I know how guys like me.  Want me.  I, I—have my choice of dates—status dates, I guess you’d call them, but I don’t sleep with them.  They all want to…have sex with me.”

“Don’t use that word.  Talk dirty.”  I shoved the stick back into her crotch, and she winced, right through the gathered pleats.

Stephanie looked down, wincing at the tightness of the zip-tie binding her wrists.  Then she looked me straight in the eyes. 

“All the guys want…to…fuck…fuck me.”

She paused.

“Well, sir, I’m well, I’m probably the most popular girl in my school—I’m a senior—I date college guys.  Like Robert.  You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”

               I gave her hip a painful whack.  She uttered a yelp.  “Never mind Robert.  Go on.  Talk dirity!”
              “Ummm, well, I’m blonde and very pretty, and I’m a virgin.  That’s—that’s what…well, I know they want to…f-fuck me. Yes.  All the guys want to f-f-fuck me.   But I’m saving myself for marriage.   I’ve never had a man put his…” 

“I said talk dirty!”

“…I’ve, I’ve never had a man, well, s-s-stick his..cock in me…before.”

       She took a breath.  “I’ve never been fucked.  Never.  I’ve never let a man do it, er, fuck me.  I’m, well, I’m pure.”

       The stick moved down her legs.  Nervously, she kept shifting her weight.  Her pleats swayed around her knees enticingly.

“I don’t let the guys fuck me, sir,” she continued.  “I know I’m very, very, uh, lovely.  But I don’t lead them on, I really don’t,  you know?”

“You’re a cock-teaser, that’s what you are.”

“No I’m not!”

The tip moved up and down her leg, hooking the hem of her dress.

“Yes you are, cunt.  You’re a gorgeous cockteaser, ‘cause you’re a virgin.”

Her head dropped in defeat.  “All right, sir.  I’m a c-c-cock-teaser. 

“You’re going to be my first, my first…”  Stephanie paused, and a tear trickled down from her left eye. “You’re going to be my very first…fuck,” she whispered. 

I could tell she was fighting hard to stay still, as I played the dowling up her legs, along the inside of her thighs.   Her skirt and slip looped over it.

I pulled it up against her crotch. 

“How does it feel to have something hard shoved up between your legs, whore?.  Stephanie’s face was frozen except for two tears the oozed out of her eyes

She was wearing nude-to-the-waist pantyhose, and the pink panties underneath glistened.   Full-cut things, that went right from her hip up to her bellbutton. 

Pretty, feminine, modest. 

Nice.

I moved the stick in between her thighs, dry-fucking her with it.  Some of her dress was caught by the coarse wood, and was pulled in between her leg.  .I dropped the stick and pulled her into my arms, grabbing and fondling her greedily..

“Yeah, baby, go on, go on!”

“You’re going to be the first man  to fuck me, to put his penis in me.”  I leaned in close to her, holding her with my left arm around her waist, and rubbing that stick up at her pantyhose crotch, hard, in and out. She pushed herself up on her toes, and softly said, “…my first, my very, very first, you’re going to be my…oh….my  first man, my first…fuck…my first…fuck..!”  I could feel her warm breath on my ear.  “Just please…be gentle.  Don’t…hurt me….

“I’m so scared.  Please—I don’t want to lose my virginity this way, please?”

I gave her a squeeze, and my freehand moved underneath her bound hands, squeezing her ass cheeks.

It was very irrational, silly, actually, but having Miss-Prim-and-Proper say all these things, which everybody knows but nobody says outright, gets my evil soul all aglow.  I have had beautiful girls, and I have had a couple of virgins along the way, but never a girl this lovely, this young, and this pristine!  And besides, she obviously came from good breeding and income.    The silky material of her dress slid this way and that as I ran my palm and fingers all about her belly, her thighs, pushing in and about, digging in, groping and feeling all over her virgin cunt!

“I’m a virgin, sir.  Please, now, sir, please, if I promise to be, well, a good virgin would you take these things off my wrists, please, they hurt so,  please?”

“Okay.  I’ll take them off, girl.  One bad move, and I will tie you up like a trussed pig—tighter than Robert is down there!  And you will be so sorry.  And Robert, too.  Not just your life depends on what you do, girl.  His does, too.”

“I understand. Sir.   I promise.  I’ll do everything you tell me to.  Everything.  Now, will you please take them off?  Please, Sir?”

I took out a knife, and she turned around.  I snaked the point in to where the cutter found the nylon strap, and “clip!” her hands were freed.  She immediately  gripped her wrists, massaging them.

“Thank you.”

“Sir.”

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir!”

I grabbed  her teenage body against me, running my hands up and down the back of her, from her hair and shoulders, down to her tight butt. I yanked her sweater down, pushing it off her arms.  It fell onto the grubby floor in a heap.    Her hair was glossy and inviting, and I pushed my face deep in it, close to her ear.

“Lift up your dress.”

Stephanie took hold of some pleated silk at her thighs, and pulled it up, exposing her slip..

“Now your slip, too.”

She pinched  at some satin, and pulled it up, to the top of her thighs, and looked at me awaiting my next order.  I motioned upwards, and she pulled it all the way up, and I was looking at her sheer pantyhose, and those pastel pink panties,  nylon or some polyester-satin job. 

Stephanie was so very much the young lady, right to her skin.

Nice.

I moved her a few feet, and she stepped to the side, still holding up her skirts.  Now she was leaning her rump against the old, metal table. It was littered with old newspapers, dried-out coffee cups, all sorts of crap.  So here she was, leaning against the table edge, and I got down on my knees in front of her, and started rubbing her legs  She stood, or leaned, there, holding her skirt pleats and her dainty slip up so I could enjoy myself.  I dug and pressed my hands into her crotch area, and she winced a bit, and looked off the side.  I’m not much of a foot fetishist, but it was I enjoyed fondling a foot before I slid the sexy rose-colored pump off.

Then the other one.

I traveled slowly, sensuously back up her legs to the waistband of her panthose, and yanked it down.  I heard a kind of a whimper,  but she eased her butt off the table edge while I slid the gossamer hose down her hips, thighs, to her knees.  Stephanie dutifully kept her dress and slip pulled up, and she shifted her weight so I could slide the coil of nylon over her ankles, and off her small feet.

I pushed my face into her pantycrotch, inhaling her female aroma, and fully enjoyed the soft material on my face.  I wrapped my arms around her hips, massaging her tight ass cheeks through the satin fabric.  I think I nuzzled her pantycrotch for several minutes before getting up.

I pivoted her, and unzipped her dress;  there was this sexy zzzzzzz as I pulled it down.  I held her by her silken shoulders for a short moment, and then pulled her dress off her shoulders, down her arms and her torso  It bunched at her waist..  She had a perfect teenage frame, and very good skin.  The bodice fell off her arms and wrists, and in a moment I had her bra unhooked. It was delicate, with pink satin cups and a bit of lace along the top edge.   The pink satin straps slid down her arms, and with a slight tug it landed on the dirty gray carpet next to her pantyhose and spike heels.

I  turned my victim around.

Damn, what an incredible sight!  She was naked to her waist, with the nicest set of tennis-ball sized tits I have ever seen, on or off the web.  Nice, round orbs, pushing right off her rib cage, with good color, soft and creamy.  Her nipples were pink, about the size of a quarter, and tipped with tiny light-brown nodules, each the size of a pencil erasure. 

The girl stood perfectly still, with her arms at her side, while I took her in. I put my hands on her waist, just above the inside-our fabric of her dress top, and slowly, deliberately, moved them up to her breasts, and cupped them.

I just held them for a minute or two, squeezing them a little.  I was kind of mesmerized by the intensity of the moment.  Stephanie remained still, but I noticed her eyes were closed while she endured the indignity of allowing her tits to be fondled by some stranger.  Then I started squeezing and groping them, rubbing her nipples with my thumbs, then flicking them.

Stephanie clenched her face.

I got a bit rough, but Stephanie forced herself to stay still while I mauled her. She gasped and her chest heaved, and a single tear trickled down from her right eye.

There was a secretary’s chair nearby.  I wheeled it over, sat down, and adjusted the seat so my face was even with her boobs. I had her leaning back against the table.  I wrapped my arms around her hips and hugged her.  I planted my mouth on her left tit, and kissed it, then started licking it.  Meanwhile, my hands stroked her legs through her dress.  I gave myself a real mouthful of her 34B tit, all the while my palms went up and down.  The silky pleats bunched this way and fanned out that.  I had my left hand running up to her belly and her crotch, while my left hand was cupping and squeezing her ass cheeks—and my mouth was slobbering all over that right tit!

I moved to her right boob, and gave it the same treatment: kissing, licking, sucking, and swallowing as much of her firm teen tissues as I could draw into my mouth.  I reached down to her knees, and slid my hands up her legs, under her dress and slip, right up to her panties.  I sucked on that tit, and pawed at her private areas with wild abandon.  The hem of her skirt swished about my crotch, caressing back and forth against my hard dick, tickling it sweetly.  That felt especially seductive.  Don’t these girls know what a dress like this does to a guy?   I have a soft-fetish-thing for the feel of silk against my skin, and I was getting hotter and as hard as ever.

I took a minute or two to enjoy the feel of smooth skin on her legs, rubbing, stroking, caressing, and feeling her up. She was like a statue, but a living, feeling,  and breathing one, submitting to my roaming hands. Her panties were a high-sheen satin, pale peachy-pink, and I lightly ran my fingertips over them, digging my fingers up against her pantycrotch, outlining her mouns venus.

Stephanie stood there, immobile against the grungy table, with her pleated skirt  spilling from about her waist, down the side of her legs.

Her slip, too.

I got up, and quickly stripped my clothes off. My workshirt was half-unbuttoned, and I pulled it over my head, kicking off my boots.  Then I dropped trou, boxer shorts, too.

I was getting very ready to fuck my captive fuck-doll, all appealing as hell, with her blonde curls mussed, stripped to the waist.

Stephanie was quiet and downcast, looking down and away, obvious dread on her face.  The moment of reckoning, or rather deflowering was nigh. Her hands clenched her skirts gathered at her  hips.  I caught her glancing at my ten inches of impatient manhood pointing up at her, primed and ready—ready to enter her.   I pushed her against the table again, so she was lying back on it, legs dangling, and her smooth, flat panty-clad crotch arched out.  I leaned forward, downwards her, pushing down.  The sensitive underside of my dick rubbed pressed against the light pink satin, and I could feel her cunt hair through it.   I lay on her, pushing up and against her, then started rising and falling, rubbing my prick all over the smooth surface, plowing my girl-hungry stick into the valley of lingerie of her pantycrotch.    My fingers were occupied with her hair, feeling her up, and kissing her.  I kept going back to her breasts and played with them.

I kissed her, a lot. I like kissing pretty girls, don’t you?   But I like to force it on them.  Girls like this are often, well, economical with their kisses—not to mention further pleasures of their bodies—and it’s an intense high forcing this sick mimicry of affection on these types of girls.   I had a laundry list of rude pleasures I wanted to take from this little dreamboat, while her drunken date was tied up downstairs in my van.

Starting with a bit of good old cockteasing—like Stephanie has done before, I’m sure.

“Open your legs, baby,” I said, nuzzling my face into her hair, against her ear.  Stephanie obeyed.  I pushed my hard erection down a bit, and slid it in between her thighs, right below her pantycrotch.   “Okay.  Close your legs now.” 

She did, and my horny dick was stuck right in between her smooth thighs—just below her pantycrotch.

The squeeze of the creamy skin of her inner thighs against my prick quickened my desperate hormones.  I indulged this slow, controlled dry fuck of her pantycrotch, just pushing gently in and out, with a bit of a wriggle, relishing the smooth thigh and warm crotch, and was careful not to let myself get over-excited.  She stood there compliantly, holding her skirts up, while I hugged her, pawed her body all over, and burrowed my face in her fragrant blonde hair.

And drove my cock in and out between those exquisite, smooth thighs.

She whispered to me.

“Do you like this, sir?  You want to keep going this way?  All the way?  I’ve taken guys to, uh, climax, um, doing this.  Playing with them, you know.  Would you like me to?”

I didn’t answer, but continued to shove myself in this way.

“I’m good at it, you know,” she cooed. 

She was at once seductive and coy—a truly experienced cockteaser!

“Is there something more I can do—anything?—I’ll leave you, well, very happy….satisified…hmmm?”

Her voice trailed off exotically.

My actions were my answer.  I  kept poking my dick in and out, getting harder and hotter.  I pushed my mouth onto hers, which shut her up, and held onto her good and tight.  My hands were up and down her back and into her hair.  Then I found the zipper tab, and pulled it down the last few inches.  This opened up her dress completely. It slid down her hips and was held up only because my hips were pushed hard against her.  I stepped back, and it drifted onto the floor, landing in a delicate puff of rosy pink pleats, circled  about her feet.

I pulled Stephanie back into a greedy embrace.  My cock  and balls pushed against her, and those sensitive areas on the underside rubbed against the smooth halfslip. 

“Keep kissing me, Stephanie.  Show me your tricks, you gorgeous little cocktease!  Run your fingers through my hair and on my shoulders and you better make me feel good, yeah, keep kissing me, and if you stop or fight or resist me, I’m going to hurt you, bitch, and if I start laying into you, well, I just might get carried away.”

And  so she did.  She kissed me. Our lips were wet and tingling, and she met my tongue with hers.  She was damn seductive, playing me as I ground my crotch against the flat of her belly, and my cock had spasms of excitement as it rubbed against the folds of her slips and her panties.  I pulled her hard against me and slid my palms over her small round ass, so nice beneath the nylon.

My hands stroked her hips, up and down the nylon.   I pulled her slip up again, a few inches at a time, pulling it up the slope of her young body, bunch by bunch by bunch.  When I had the hem all the way up, I dropped to my knees in front of her.  I snaked my fingers into the waistband of her panties, and pulled them down.

Down, down, down the flawless skin of her slender legs.    The lacy hem of the slip followed my hands, tickling my wrists.   At her knees, the panties fell loosely to her ankles.  Stephanie dutifully lifted one foot, then the other, and the dainty confection was in my hand. This left her slip on, but she was naked, otherwise.   A little odd to most people, but what can I say?  Such a perfect body with a bit of lingerie on, and she was, well, so fucking cute with the demure thing drifting down her hips, over her rump, to her slender knees. 

Nothing between us now except the slip. 

Soft and smooth.

I picked up her panties, and sniffed them.  I noticed the tag.  They came from a very expensive lingerie boutique.  I’ve jerked off to the images of this place’s models for years, and here I had their best customer, all to myself!

“This place is known for turning on guys.  Their catalogues and website,  you know that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So you buy your panties and things there so you can turn on guys, don’t you, you little prick teaser?”

“I, I’m not a cockteaser, sir.  Honestly, I’m not.  I, well, I  just like to wear nice things.”

“Nice things nobody sees?  No, baby, I know your type.  You dress oh-so-sophisticated, and then you put on sexy lingerie, and you let the guys fondle and paw you and get all excited and fall in love with you while you jerk them off.”   I pushed her back against the table, shoving her downwards.  I had a vice grip at her nape, and I was gouging her cunt with my other hand, digging in, pinching at her pussy hairs through her slip.   “You get them all hot and horny and maybe you let them cum on your panties, if they’re lucky enough, huh?”

“N-n-no, It’s not, not like that….”  Her hands were on my arms, but she wasn’t pushing me away.  She looked up at me with those devastating blue eyes.  I could well imaging what it would be like, her in an evening gown, her skirts up with a date’s hard prick sticking out of his pants, desperately hoping for more, but getting nothing except a feel job against a $35 pair of panties! 

I found myself getting into a seething resentment of this girl. I pulled up her slip again and rubbed my knuckles against her cunt lips. She winced, but didn’t pull away..

“Then you shut them off and say, ‘No, honey, I’m not that kind of girl, I’m saving myself for marriage,’ and you hold out for the best prospect, the highest bidder who holds out for Little Miss Aristocratic Virgin Bride in her pure white wedding gown.  Yeah, I know the type.”

Now I getting really angry with Stephanie.  She really was the type to hype her sex and her beauty, but  to make it available only in little amounts until the most deserving country-club dickhead with the right credentials came along.

“I don’t mean to do anything like that, sir, it’s just—“

“And you develop a cohort of status preppie admirers, like drunken Robert downstairs, don’t you?

“No, sir, he’s just a friend.”

I pulled back and slapped her—four or five times.  “Lying bitch!  He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?  You’re in love with him, right, cunt?”  I shoved her against the table, pulling her head back by the nape, gripping her chin fiercely with my other hand.  I looked right into those perfect azure-blue eyes.  She was shaking in my hold.  “You’re in love with him, but you still just lead him on with your prissy little cockteasing games, cunt!”  I kept her in place with my left hand in her hair, but shoved a fist into her flat tummy.

“UGH!”

She would have doubled over except that I was holding her upright.  I gave her a few more body blows, and her perfect complexion went white.

“I-I-I-don’t mean, mean…It’s just, just…” she stammered. 

She was speechless.  If she had ever been called to account for her little manipulative games, it had never been done so emphatically!

“A boyfriend you probably drive to drink with your turn-on-then-stop cockteasing games, huh?”  I delivered a good slap across her left cheek, and she uttered a yelp and spun away towards the table.  “And then the most worthy candidates get to touch your vestal body.    I don’t think it’s going to be Robert, right?  It seems he turned out to be a worthless little drunken coward, too bad!” 

I grabbed her hair, jerking her downwards. 
       “Ohhhhh….OW!”  Stephanie landed on the floor, curling her legs.  Damn sexy to my sadistic streak, what with her halfslip riding up her thighs.

“And if they’re oh-so-fortunate you jerk them off with your pretty little undies.”

“No, sir, it’s not….I don’t mean to…I..”  the girl sobbed.  “I mean, I just want to, well, be nice to boys, some boys, but—but I’m saving myself for marriage….”   Staphanie buried her face in her hands, and her disheveled hair fell over her face, hiding it.  She was whimpering, tears streaming down her cheeks.
       I reached for her panties, and sniffed the wonderful smell of teenage girlflesh.   I knelt down and stroked her cheeks with them, drying her tears.

“How much did these panties cost, cunt?  Twenty dollars?”

“I don’t know, sir.  My father pays the credit card—“

“You don’t even look at the price tag,  when you shop,. do you, cunt?”

I fingered the dainty pink panties and threw them back onto the floor.

I was overwhelmed with hatred and lust and loathing for this spoiled bitch.  So sweet and innocent on the outside, yet so selfish and manipulative on the inside.

I clenched my hand into a fist, and slammed it into Stephanie’s tight flat little tummy, right at the waistband of her designer-name satin half-slip.  “Ooooomph!”  she gasped and clenched her midsection and dropped to her knees.

“Oooo,” she groaned,  “Please, mister, you promised…you said if I did what you—uh!—told me to, you, you, ooooh, you promised you—ohhhhhh!--wouldn’t hurt me, oh…please,…please….sir…”  I took hold of her blonde hair and yanked her head upwards.  She was crying again.  I let go, and before she could change her position, landed a hard lateral slap across her face, and sent her sprawling onto the grungy office carpet.  The dreamboat rolled, her legs curled a bit, and when she pushed herself off the floor, her hair fell down, veiling her face.

She was really crying now. I’m usually a very decent sort of guy, but I was struck by how good it felt to see her—make her—suffer.   She started to push herself up but I stepped on her back, and down she went, again.

She was flat on her stomach, except for a bit of a twist at her hips, with her knees bent and curled in a little, forcing the lacey hem up mid-thigh.   “Oooo…mister…” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” I barked.  “I changed my mind.”

I put some more weight on that foot, and she quieted herself, except for sobbing.  I got off her smooth back, and knelt next to the crumpled, crying mess of teen girlhood before me, and I started rubbing her. Her back.   Her shoulders.   Her ass was very nice, and I could make out every contour through her slip. She was whimpering.  I had complete freedom to do anything I wanted with her, and I wanted to hurt her.   To hurt her and cheapen her and abuse her and defile her—for all the guys who looked at her longingly, and especially for all the guys who fell in love with her while she led them on with her sexy feminine wiles.   To spite all the little old ladies who cooed over her, “Stephanie is such a nice girl!” and such bullshit.  Not to mention all the other girls, so envious of “gorgeous Stephanie” who has everything! 

But enough analyzing.  Time to enjoy my prey.  I lay down on her, and my dick fitted in between her ass cheeks, pressing against the slip. 

Felt good.

“You let guys rub your butt through  your clothes, Stephanie?” I rubbed my cock up and down against her ass crack.   Grabbing her hair, I pulled her head sideways so I was breathing into her ear.

Her face was hidden by her blonde hair falling over it, but she shook her head “no.”

So I rubbed her butt and her hips more aggressively. 

“There’s only one thing worse than a cheap tease, Stephanie, and you’re it.  You’re an expensive tease—a spoiled brat who wears the nicest clothes and the sexiest underwear to goad on guys.”  I kept dry-humping her ass cheeks.  “They spend serious money taking you out, but you deliver the goods only to the highest bidder, don’t you?”

“Nooo, it’s not…like that—“

I sat up on her butt, straddling her and pulled her hands behind her back, twisting one up to her shoulder blades.  I pulled her head back with fistful of hair. “Owwwww!”  She screamed.    I wrenched her arm higher up her back.  “You’re sooooo lovely—more beautiful than most guys can bear—but it’s all ‘look-but-don’t-touch-unless-you-qualify’ to all the guys, except for those few with the right money from the right families with the right connections who go to the right schools and have the right prospects, and only then do they get a little feel job or a bit of a hand up the leg or something and it’s time you learned just what guys really want from you, you cockteaser, and that time is now ‘cause I’m going to treat you like the slut you really are!”

And I shoved her face into the carpet.

I moved to her side and rolled the weeping teenage beauty onto her shoulder.  What with my little polemic, I had actually lost of bit of my erection! I knelt right next to her face, and pulled her face up to  my lap by her hair.

“Now open your mouth, and suck me off, you little whore!”

“I’m n-n-not…a whore,” she whined.

“Then  I’ll make you one!”  I hit her on the side of her head with a full-knuckle fist, hard, and she shrieked again. Her face actually bounced off the office carpet!   The girl had been so stupid to tell me she “doesn’t handle pain very well.”  I hit her again, two, three, four times, right on the temple, then on her shoulder.

“Now.  Suck my dick!”

Stephanie obeyed immediately.  Rising up on her elbows, she found the tip of my penis and instantly had almost the entire length in her mouth.  For several long, sensuous moments, she merely sucked on it, delivering a firm vacuum  with a bit of gentle tongue action on the bottom surface of my cock.  I moved up and sat back on my haunches, and she moved around so she was aligned with my body, and started sucking me off with not just oral pressure, but moving her lips up and down the shaft.  I leaned back onto my tucked-in heels, and let my fingers play in her hair while spasms of pleasure were being delivered to my fuck-stick.

And they were being delivered very…proficiently!

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

Little Stephanie didn’t miss a beat.  She continued sucking away at me, but looked up with those still-wet baby blues, but shook her head ‘no’ and returned to sucking me on my stick.  I was rather taken aback; she was doing a hell of a good job!

I remained kneeling back on my haunches, leaning slightly over her head, which bobbed adeptly up and down as she swallowed my meat.  As she settled into a rhythm I noticed she didn’t alter the pressure from her lips or her sucking that much—she just went up and down with at a very steady pace. She generated more saliva, and before long was adding rhythmic squeezes with her lips to her head’s motion.  It was really getting intense!

My knees got a bit of a cramp, and I had her pause while I moved to the office chair, and beckoned her to come to me.  It was really something, watching her crawl forward on her hands and knees, hair falling down her cheeks, her tits bobbing, wearing nothing but that pretty little halfslip.

When her head was back between my thighs, I pointed her face up towards me.  “You’ve never sucked cock before?”

Stephanie again shook her head “no,” and opened her mouth and lowered it over my rejuvenated erection.  But I was still curious about the surprising skill level of my captive ingénue.    So I lifted her face off—I was getting a bit too excited, didn’t want to shoot off too fast—and the girl settled back onto her heels and straightened up.  She pushed her hair back and looked at me.

“How is it you know how to suck dick, girl?”

“Porno.  Sir.  I’ve seen my fair share of it on the internet.  I had a boyfriend—not Richard, another guy—show me how to defeat my parents’ filter, and I’ve looked at, at, smut, so I figured I could do this.”

Well, three cheers for the internet!

I had her place her hands on my dick, and she wanked me off gently.

“But you never have sucked a dick before, huh?”  My fingers played with her blonde curls while we had this oddly civilized dialogue.

“No.”

“Never, ever?”

“No, sir.  Never.  Ever.  You’re my first.   I was, well, saving this for my finance when I got engaged.”  She wrapped her fingers delicately around my pole, pulling on it soothingly.  Stephanie had very pretty, small fingers and used them surprisingly well.

“So when you get engaged, you’d reward your fiancé with blow jobs, is that it?”

“Yes, sir.  Something like that.  I just figured, well, if I’m engaged to a guy, I ought to keep him happy in some way until we’re married.  I told you.  I’m saving myself –my virginity—for marriage.   Please, please, let me suck you off—I’ll do a good job, you’ll be—you are—the first man I’ve ever done this for.  And if I do it nicely, then, won’t that be enough?  Wouldn’t you be, satisified, I mean, if I suck you off?  You’ll be my first—my very first.  Wouldn’t that, well, be nice—I mean, important?”

She kept pulling on my hard-on.  Again, she seemed to know something of what she was talking about.

“I’ll swallow, sir. 

Ten slender, perfectly manicured fingers were softly wrapped around my hog, pulling it up and  down.

“I promise.”

“Ever do this with a guy?”  I tapped on the small hands that was pleasuring my prick.

“Well, yes.  A little..”

“So you’ve played with guys’ dick, have you:”

She nodded.

“So you’ll pull on his dick a bit if you like him a lot.  Getting him horny but not taking him to orgasm. Or maybe letting him cream on your expensive panties. And if a guy is good enough to get engaged to you, you’d suck him off to keep him interested in you.”

“Well…I guess….yes, sir.”  I pulled her head forward again, and she resumed the blowjob.  I sat back in the dirty chair, delighted with my aristocratic captive, wearing only her fluid white slip, kneeling between my legs, sucking me off.  I leaned back, and now made no effort to keep my lust for her under control.  She was so beautiful, her head bobbing up and down, her hair falling over her shoulders and my thighs, as she  delivered indescribable pleasure to my horny fuckstick.

Her was all about her face, and I pushed it back from time to time.  Sometimes she looked up, her eyes soliciting approval from me.  I squeezed my legs in, against her torso, and her slip tickled my legs.  I kept my hands on her head.  My fingers were laced in her hair, and I guided the motion of her head.  I leaned back in the chair, and wave after wave of warm, moist pleasure rolled through my loins.  The heat and intensity grew, grew, grew, and a moment later, I did it—I came—a blast of semen ripped up my penis, shooting into her mouth. 

Stephanie paused for a split second, but I tugged on her hair, and the girl immediately resumed sucking me off.

Immediately, another shot of cum erupted into her mouth.

Then a third.

And a fourth!

Each one was wonderful, gratifying my pent-up lust for the girl. 

I was still hard—hardly through raping her beautiful mouth, and my fingers directed her to keep sucking me.  A few moments passed, and then I ejaculated in her mouth again.  Not so much, but it was so good, that feeling as the emission kind of flowed out of my penis into her mouth.

And another one followed just a little while later.

I felt myself beginning to go soft.  It had been an extraordinary orgasm, lasting well over a minute, what with the intermittent shots and gushes of my sperm.  Stephanie lowered her head as my erection began to drop, and I could see her face more clearly.  There were fresh tracks of tears on her cheeks.  Somewhere towards the end—right when I was coming in her mouth, I hope!—Stephanie had been crying.

This was, after all, the her first penetration by a prick, even if it was oral.

But she kept sucking away.  Such a good and obedient little bitch!  I pushed her head back, and my dick plopped out of her mouth.  Happy and very, very spent!  I pulled her head forwards a little.  “Pick up my dick, Stephanie,” I ordered. 

Which she did.

“Now, rub the tip of it across your lips.”  She obeyed, but was kind of just smearing it. 

“Pretend it’s lipstick.  Now rub it against your lips!”

She got it right this time.  I still had a few dribbles of cum left inside me, and they just oozed out, while Stephanie “applied” it to her lips.  Then I poked her cute little nose with it, and a drop of cum was deposited there.  Then I spread the last bit of my cum over her cheeks.

“There, there, we’re done!”  She seemed relieved.  She raised a hand to wipe her face, but then thought better of it, and put her hands on the floor, steadying her kneeling.  I placed her head between my thighs, resting against my crotch, and calmly stroked her, brushing her hair with my fingers, just enjoying her beauty, her femininity, her docile obedience, and the wonderful spent feeling of having just violated her and cum in her unwilling mouth.

She sat on her hip, legs together.  The shimmery slip stoped halfway down her thighs, the little band of lace delicate against her smooth skin.  So sexy!  I rested this way for quite a while just enjoying  looking at her, resting, and thinking about what I wanted to do to her next.

Some time passed.  Fifteen, twenty minutes, who knows?  I was lost in a bit of reverie, being sexually sated, at least for the moment, and I meditated on just how sweet and lovely she first looked earlier in the evening, and how I had longed and lusted for girls like this in my earlier days.  She sat back,  making no effort to cover her beautiful young breasts.  Her trim butt was leaning against her heels, in her little silvery pink half-slip draped over her thighs. Damn, that little satin thing was such a sexy touch!  I was kind of obsessing on it, when she spoke up.

“Sir?”

I just looked at her.  She interpreted it as permission to speak.

“What are you going to do with me—with us, me and Robert?”

It was about 2:30 in the morning.  I wasn’t horny, not particularly, but I still wanted her, in a spiritually malicious way.  Now that I knew what a manipulative little cocktease she was, I wanted her, to fuck her, and I wanted to hurt her.

I wanted to thoroughly, absolute, viciously, maliciously rape her!

Stephanie’s deflowering would not be some quick slam-bam!

“I’m thinking,” I answered.  Truthfully, for once.  I could just throw her over the edge of the table there, and rape her, entering her from the rear, treating her like the bitch she really is.  But damn, she was just so fucking beautiful, and I wanted to have her face close to me, to look at it, to force kisses upon her, and especially to have her look at me and remember my face, forever, when she got deflowered.

I picked up my pants, and fished out the nylon zip-ties.  Standing above her, I gave her a nudge with my foot.  “Roll over.  On your stomach.”  Stephanie obeyed, the swath of pinkish nylon wrapping itself around her thighs and tight little butt.  I got down on my knees, straddling her.  I took each wrist and slipped a zip-tie around it, closing it snug but not too tight.

“Mister….?”  the girl whined. 

“Just shut the fuck up, cunt!” I growled.

Then I kind of sat on her ass, more of a symbolic immobilization, and I turned around, pulling her pretty little feet  backwards.  Each smooth, slender ankle got its own zip-tie bracelet.  Again, snug, but not too tight.

“Please, mister….no, no…don’t….”  she continued to  plead.  When I pulled her left arm back towards the right ankle, she finally realized just what I had in mind, and she started to fight and scream.  “No!  No!  You can’t!—I won’t let you!  No—OW!”  Stephanie carried on,  but I had the upper hand, literally, and got a zip-tie through her flailing wrist, and then managed to pull her kicking leg back to it.  It was kind of like a rodeo roper getting a calf pinned, but I managed to pull the two together, run a nylon tie through each ring, and—just barely—slide the end into  its counterpart. 

So her left arm was crossed over to her bent-back right ankle.   She continued to holler and fuss, but I managed to get her right arm and left ankle similarly trussed up.  A bit out of breath, I stood up, and looked down at my handiwork.  My beautiful captive was lying on her stomach, facing away from me, with her hair all mussed up and over her face.  She was sobbing hard, in pain and fear as well as shortness of breath from our struggle.

Most importantly, her arms were bent back to meet her ankles in the generous arch of a hogtie.  I’m sure it was at least uncomfortable. 

Probably pretty painful.

But not painful enough.

So I rolled her over, onto her back, and was rewarded with a long, profound groan.

“Ugggh…..!!….OOOOOoooooooohhhhh…!!”

Now she really looked good, arching her flat stomach upwards, with her feet pulled back in underneath her, and her knees point up—and spread good and wide!  Of course, that little satin halfslip—sorry to go on about it, but it was just such a cute and female little thing—had now slid down her up-turned thighs to her waist.

“Ooooo…., OOOOOoooohhh, oh, ow—OW!—it hurts, it hurts so, please, please!  PLEASE!  I’ll do anything—anything!—whatever—oh, OW!—you want want, anything!”

Music to my ears, her begging.  But she was going to do it anyway, right?

And all of Stephanie’s magnificent teen anatomy was completely exposed to my lecherous gaze.  Her beautiful tits slid back on her ribcage, but just a little.  Such firm, round orbs mounted atop her chest, pushing up, displaying and offering her pretty little pink nipples, just for me to enjoy.   And the position displayed her blonde cunt in an equally provocative way.  It was just as blonde as her golden mane, mildly curly, and waxed back a little, but not quite a Brazilian job.

Her pink pussy lips were moist and glistened enticingly in the dismal neon lights.

As I said, she was arching her back, trying to relieve the strain on the hogtie.  I put the flat of foot on her cunt, and pushed down, hard, and she collapsed atop her bound wrists and ankles.

My little effort was rewarded with the most exquisite, excruciatingly loud soprano scream I have ever heard in my life.  I just can’t describe how loud and high-pitched that scream was as it filled the office confines.

Followed by lesser screams and sobs as her lithe frame was forced to adjust to this collapsing of her frame.

I got to my knees next to her, and pulled her up a bit, sliding my arm under her shoulders.  She was gasping and crying, begging and pleading—never mind what she was saying—and I pulled her so she was kind of kneeling, leaning in against me.  Her once beautiful, curled and coiffed hair was quite a mess now!  I pushed it away from her aristocratic face and nuzzled her cheek, kissing her, and moving my lips over her cheeks, ear, chin, mouth.

“So, you were saving yourself for marriage, huh?”  I murmured into her ear, breathing heavily, taunting her.

“Ohhhh….yes…please….owwwWWW!!”

I slid my hand up the inside of her thigh.

“And you’d give your pure, unsullied body to the husband who earned you, is that it?”

My hand was digging into her pussy, and my index finger was tracing her cunt opening.  I was getting  horny again.

“Ohhhh….owww….y-y-yes.”

“And I suppose you’d wear a white silk nightgown over your pristine body, hmmm?”

I didn’t give her a chance to answer.  I pressed my mouth to hers, forcing a hard, wet French kiss on her mouth.  I looked into those bright blue eyes.  They were miserable, with a copious trickle of tears coming out of each one.  My hand went up to her breasts, and I fondled them, squeezing them, and pinched her nipples.  Stephanie pulled back from the kiss, gulping for air.

“Oh, no…it hurts… please, just do what you want to do, whatever you want to do, just finish it and leave me alone,..let me go…just do it…”

I gave her left tit a good hard squeeze, and my beautiful schoolgirl captive threw her head back, her body stiffening.

“OW!  Just..just do it, do it!  Rape me, Rape me, rape me!  That’s what you want to do, isn’t it—oh, OH!—just—oh, in the name of God—just fucking rape me!”

Rape was on the menu, but I was still on the salad course.   I slid my right hand under her knees, and lifted my pretty prey in my arms, carrying her back to the work area.  “This used to be a warehouse, Stephanie,” I calmly informed her.  “Tonight it’s going to be a whorehouse.  And you’re the whore!”

I rose up a bit, sliding my prick again up and down the line between her thighs, letting it nestle against her golden crotch.  I held her head down by her nape, and returned to her beautiful 34-B tits.  There was hardly any settling of her firm breasts onto her chest.

“We all gotta lose it sometime, Candy-Crotch!”  I chuckled, as my right hand left her tits, and moved down her flat tummy, to her hips and to the hem of her slip.

I pulled it up. 

“Lift you hips, bitch!”

Stephanie moaned, “Nooooo…,” but she arched her back and lifted her torso.  I pulled the thing up  to her hips. 
       “Keep your ass raised, Stephanie, my darling.”

“Please, sir…ugh—OW!” She was awkward as hell, arching her body upwards from a base of hog-tied elbows and bent-back knees.  I put a knee between hers, then the other, and she was unresisting as I pried her legs wide open, and took an appreciative look at her naked pussy.  Stephanie had a rather light covering of pussy hair, lightly curled, with touches of red and brown mixed into her naturally blonde pussy. As I said, she had a bit of a wax job, nothing very extravagant.  Her pussy lips were very clear, pale pink, and I felt a fresh throb of blood and lust pump into my cock as I gazed at ground-zero to my criminal lust.  My eyes were focused on her young cunt for a moment, then moved up, past the bunched-up white of the half-slip at her hips, to her tits, to her beautiful patrician face.

Her eyes were fixated on my proud erection. Her face was flushed with pain—or was it fear?  Dread?  Anguish?  She looked at my erect cock, then up at the ceiling, then clenched her eyes shut

“All for you, Stephanie.  All for you.”

She had stopped crying.  In a state of shock, I guess.  I lowered myself down, and lay upon my captive, right between her young athletic legs.    The feel of her soft young pussy hair on the bottom of my dick was exciting beyond description.

“Tell me you’re a virgin. And keep saying it.  I want to hear you tell me you’re a virgin, over and over.”
       “I’m a virgin….I’m a virgin,” she complied.   “Oh, just do it—rape me, fuck me, do it, get it over with, RAPE ME!” Her words were punctuated with gasps and gulps of air.   Maybe she was slipping into shock.   I continued to push my engorged dick all over her pussy, my heightened nerve endings enjoying her downy cunt hair. 

  “I’m a virgin.”  Now she was whimpering.

I slid my thumbs into the edges of her pussy crack.

“I’m a virgin.”

“Sir!” I reminded her.  I pulled her cunt lips wider, hooking my index and middle fingers, looking at the inside pink.

She winced.  In pain, maybe in shame, maybe both.

“Sir.”  She said.  “Sir.  I’m a virgin…a …virg—oh damnnit just do it and get it over with, it hurts, it fucking hurts!”

I slapped her a few times, then pinched her nipples.  “Disobedient bitch!  Say it!”

“I-I-I’m…a….virgin…a…virgin….” the girl whimpered.  “…a….virgin….You will be…my first…sir…

“That’s more like it, my little prim-and-proper slut!”

I lowered my hips onto her,  and forced her legs wider. I was breathing heavy.  I was ready, so damned ready to viciously fuck this most perfect combination of beauty, class, and purity.        

She was such a site, hog-tied on the grungy gray carpet, with only the dainty halfslip still on, bunched up at the top of her hips.  Her once-coiffed hair was a mess of curls on the carpet.  I pointed my prick right at her maidenly cunt.  I felt it touch the slightly moist tissues.

I moved my dickhead up and down, just inside her pussy lips.

“I’m a virgin.”

I pushed in, and my head was inside.  Inside her pristine pussy!  There was resistance, she was so tight, and probably clenching her groin muscles,  as I pushed in a little further, and lowered myself down a bit to get the right angle.

“I’m a virgin.  Sir, I’m a virgin…OOOoooooh!  OOOOOOOOO!”

More of my shaft found its way into my lovely young Stephanie.  My cock was centered and properly positioned now.   I let go of her pussy lips and put my hands on the floor at her shoulders.  She looked up at me, pain and anguish and shame in her eyes as I violated her.

I pushed in further. Hard.  Almost carefully.  The wonderful envelope of her girlhood was now sending shudders of indescribable pleasure all about my girl-fucker. A bit deeper, and I was pressing against her cherry. I lowered myself onto her body, noticing—oddly—the feel of her perked-up nipples pushing against my chest.  Sliding my hands under her to around her shoulder blades, I hugged her, wriggled my hips this way and that, and mercilessly plundered her young, pure girlhood.

“I’m a virgin-ooooOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!”

I raised my ass a little.

“I’m a virrrr….oooOOOOOOHHHHHH!  Oww--oooOOOO!  NOOOOO!”  Stephanie screamed, as I drove my manhood, my girl-fucker, deep into her, pushing—hard, fast, mercilessly—right into her, and right through her maidenhead, all the way into the depths of her pure body.

“No-no-nnoooooo…..AAAHHHH!”  It was the shrill, piercing soprano teenage scream of utter pain and anguish.  I was getting her, and getting her good.

I could feel the remains of her hymen—a thin stretch of  membrane, her ripped innocence, stretching around my prick. I pulled back, then shoved my meat back into her. Her cunt was tight and dry.  It encircled my girth as I drove back in, in, in--all the way home.  Nine inches of me were well inside young Stephanie, and her tightness enclosed my impatient manhood, stopping me—along with feelings of intense body heat.  I pulled outwards, keeping my pink head securely inside her pussy, and reached under her back and  gripped her shoulders, hugging her.

“This is it, Stephanie.  This is it!  This is when you get the full treatment of a real cunt-reamer, Stephanie!”  And with that, I pulled down on her shoulders, and pushed up, up, hard and deep, upwards into the little teenager’s pristine body.  I drove in, impelled not just by my desire for the pleasure of fucking, but by my pathological desire to utterly skewer the girl.

Oh, so tight and snug!   The grip around my penis was perfect. 

“Uuuuuhhh….OOOOOOHHHHHH…!” Stephanie moaned.  Her eyes were closed and her tears had  dissipated into splotches of wet all about her temples and cheeks.

I pulled back just a bit, and drove myself back in as hard as I could, throwing my hips to add weight.  I pushed back in, all the way, and felt myself hit home, deep, deep, so very deep into Stephanie Davidson, beautiful, blonde, gifted, privileged, the girl in the sexy and demure box-pleated dress—but now lying naked, hog-tied on a filthy carpet in a vacant warehouse.

She gave out a breathy groan, “Uhhhhh!”   Damn, I was so horny, with her flat on her back, her arms and legs tied back underneath her, and best of all: her virginity impaled by my hard cock!  I pulled most of my way out, and forced my way back in again, hard and fast.  I think I found maybe another half inch or so of depth into my captive teenager.

“OOOOOOW!   Oooooo….OW!”  Her last exclamation was an out-and-out scream, a high, girlish soprano, “EEEEeeeeeiiiiiiii!” 

“No!   No!   No!”  she uttered.  “Noooo…”

No doubt, she was suffering intensely.  She closed her eyes, clenching her face in a grimace, rocking her head back and forth.  Her long hair whipped around on the dirty gray carpet.

“Open your eyes, Stephanie.”  I gave her a little slap.  “I want you looking at me while I rape you!”

She obeyed, her dazzling azure blue eyes streaming with tears  as I deflowered her.

I pulled out, and drove myself in—again, all the way in, and heard my victim grunt with an “ummph!”  I settled my weight on her for a moment, savoring the experience, having this beautiful virgin lying beneath me, and my prick  shoved into her so very, very deep.  Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, and her firm breasts jiggled, just a little. She was looking off to the side, a large tear going down her cheek.  I straightened her head, and looked into her bright blue eyes. 

“You’re so beautiful, Stephanie.  You’re so fucking, fucking beautiful, and I’m going to give you one hell of a fucking, Stephanie baby.  You’re so sexy and hot and beautiful and everybody wants to fuck you, you know? Your boyfriend, your teachers, the men in your church, every man who walks down the street, they all want to fuck you, and I’m fucking you now, my prick is in you, and you’ll never get fucked again like I’m going to fuck you now!”

I shoved my dick back into her, out, and in again.  Her virgin tightness had stretched a little, and now felt good and snug while I settled into a steady fucking rhythm.

“Now kiss me!”

My head was about three or four inches above hers, and she had to raise her head to obey me.  Her hair was spilled down onto the dirty gray carpet.  I pushed my tongue against her sweet lips—she wore a flavored lip gloss—and she parted her luscious lips to receive it.  I pushed my tongue into her, and frenched her, covering her lips with my slobber.  It was hard for her to hold her head up, but she managed it, while I forced onto her a prolonged kiss. Her eyes were clenched with pain.  I’m sure the increase weight on her trussed-up limbs hurt even more.

Then I started pumping her pussy in earnest, delivering short, steady pumps of my prick into her.  “Keep kissing me, you lovely cunt.  I want you to keep kissing me until I break it.”  She kept kissing me, breathing with little snorts through her nose, but I knew that her head would be getting heavy soon, and I felt her weaken a bit, trying to keep her lips pressed to mine.  But she managed.  I ran my fingers through the silky hair, falling down onto the carpet.

I could tell it still hurt her, but she kept her head up, and received my tongue into her mouth.  I withdrew a bit, and shoved myself back into her teen girlhood. 

Then I did it again.

I started fucking her—raping her—with wild abandon.  In and out, in and out, I just went on fucking her, and fucking her, every nerve on my prick brilliantly alive with the feel of her young, tight cunt.  Stephanie was breathing through her nose, and as her neck began to tire, I could feel her trembling.

Finally, it was just too much, what with the pummeling on her pussy, and she dropped her head back.  There was a soft thud as it landed on the carpet.  Her hair fanned out.

Grabbing her hair at the side of her head, I looked right into her face.  “If I tell you to kiss me, girl, you damn well better kiss me!”  And I planted my lips on hers, mashing my mouth down her hard, and  picked up the speed of raping her tight little pussy.

It was heavenly, abusing her.  My heaven, her hell.

She looked so lovely and vulnerable and hurt, lying underneath me on that grubby rug, with her silky lingerie bunched around her hips and waist.  As I moved my torso over her, this way and that, the folds of her slip brushed against my belly, my groin, and my thighs, adding to the sensuality of the whole rape experience.  I’ve never understood it, but there is something indescribably sexy about a girl, flat on her back, with her halfslip pushed up.

The girl’s  breasts were pushed up and away from her ribcage with a natural nobility, brushing occasionally against my chest as I rose and fell while fucking her.

I kissed my “lover,” off and on. But my focus was on the exquisite feelings my prick gave me, sliding in and out.   It was like an elastic ring was circling the oute half of my prick, and right below the head there was this firm, even grip.  I groped and fondled her sweet teenage body all over, fondling her tits and flicking her nipples with my thumbnail.  Then I moved up and down her curves.  Her figure was hourglass-perfect;  I groped it all around and underneath her silky pink slip, from her ribcage to her slender waist and flat teenage tummy, and down to the youthful flare of her hips and thighs.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime fuck, raping this pristine teenager.

I intended to prolong it as best I could.

She was really suffering, too.  Her pain only made it feel better.

Stephanie was breathing hard.    I put my face to her delicate little ear.  I pressed my mouth deep in her fragrant hair,  kissing and licking her ear while I continued fucking her.  “You feel good, girl, yeah, Stephanie baby, if you only knew how nice it feels, shoving my cock into your nice young body.”  I pulled out, right to my tip, and plunged in hard.  “Yeah, good, so good, Stephanie baby!”

She issued a moan.  “Ooooo…ohhh…uhhhh-UGH!”

“Is it feeling better now, Stephanie?”  Again, a long, hard lunge, right to the hilt of my girl-sticker, applying all my weight, forcing her down on her criss-crossed limbs.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh!  Uh-UGH!”

  I knew what the answer was.  “You got such a hot body, you delicious little dreamboat, your body’s just built for fucking, you know that?”

“Ohhh…please…please, stop—just finish, just finish, no, it hurts, it hurts so much!”

Her pleas just made me all the hornier, and a warm pressure began to accumulate in the bottom of my ball sack.  I knew that as much as I wanted to extend and savor my rape of this girl, my raw lust would  have its way.

I slowed down, delivering long, sensuously slow strokes deep into my virgin victim.    I let go of her hands, and dug one of my hands into her hair, and her left tit with the other.  I gave it a squeeze—not too hard, just enough to hurt her a little.

“Ohhhhh….OW!  Oh, please, please, please-please-please just finish and get it over with, mister, I can’t take it, oh, ohhhhhh….OH IT HURTS!”   She could do nothing except beg—which aroused my sadism even more!

I pinched her nipple, and Stephanie gave out another piercing scream.  It filled the vacant office.  “No one can hear you, Stephanie.  We’re here all alone.  Your boyfriend is kind of tied up at the moment, you know that?”  She bucked and twisted, but I pressed down on her with my full weight again, parted my knees more, and forced her thighs even wider.   Little Stephanie was reduced to thrashing her head about. 

“OOOOOOOOH!  OooooOOOOOOOW!”

“I wonder if pretty boy has woken up, huh?  Think he can hear you down there?  Think he knows the virgin pussy he wants so much is mine, that I got my prick stuck in you, Stephanie honey?”

She no answer answer, and just cried. 

And cried.

“He’s real husband material, isn’t he?”  I taunted.  “Which reminds me, you’re not going to be a virgin on your wedding night, are you?  Cause I got you first!”

The girl lay beneath me, sobbing in pain, powerless, and violation.   I resumed a regular rhythm of fucking her.   She felt nice beneath me.  My face was in the crook of her neck, and I inhaled her sweet hair, smothering my face in the glorious shiny stuff.  For a few minutes, I concentratd her breasts, those distinct and young-womanly orbs, as my pecs brushed against them.  Such nice, perky nipples!   When I lifted myself just a bit, I could feel her nipples, involuntarily erect and pink with the blood inspired by the sex forced upon her.

But mostly, I felt her wonderfully warm, tight, and slightly wet cunt squeezing around my prick as I moved in and out of her, in and out, in and out.  Damn, it was good, better than anything I’ve ever felt, looking at the beauty of this girl, feeling her body beneath my while I fucked her and fucked her and fucked her! 

As good as it was, that deep, intense inkling around my ball-sack was beginning to whisper to my lust, all good things must come to an end….and I knew what that meant.

“I’m going to come in you, Stephanie,” I grunted into her pretty little ear, grunting in a raspy voice.  “Damn, I’m primed—I’m gonna cream your pure young body—“

“No—please, no, no!”

“—I’m going to come in you, and spray my semen into your virgin womb!”  I kind of spit out the words, “virgin womb.” I could tell they stung her.

“No, no…Oh!  OWW!  I-I-think I’m fertile, I’m right around mid—“

I delivered a stiff punch her kidney. Without interrupting my rhythm. 

“UMPH!”  I continued rising and dropping, driving my prick deep into her pussy.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!  You don’t ask me to do anything—or to not do something!”   Pulling my knees up a little, I adjusted the angle of my attack on her tight girlhood downwards a bit, and started delivering shorter, faster, stoccatto jabs into her.  It really intensified my desire, and the pressure in my scrotum grew, and I cold sense a more intense heat glowing at the tip of my ten-inch penis.

“Yeah, yeah…oh, Stephanie baby, you’re good, you’re going to be so good, my best fuck ever!”  My evil soul was aflame with the raw lust consummate the rape, to inseminate this beautiful young girl!  I lay all the way down on her lithe body, and snaked my arms underneath her, one around the small of her back, the other around her neck and shoulders, and pulled myself down on her even harder and tighter, while my hips rose and fell at a fast rate, fucking her, fucking, fucking, fucking her.  The pressure of fresh, engorging blood in my manhood was increasing.  Keeping the same rapid pace, I lengthened my stroke, and most of my cock was exiting and entering her tight, young fuck channel.

I held her, hugged her like a lover, but my hips rose and fell, at a vicious pace,  slamming my virgin-raper into her over and over, again and again, on and on.

Consumed in an evil, selfish lust, I went silent, entering a sublime netherworld of sensation and desire.  I could feel my prick sliding in and out of her snug, warm pussy, but I was also so very aware of the myriad other sensations:  the tickle of her silky slip bunched and gathered against my belly and hips, the feel of her body—her tits, especially—against my chest, her soft hair, her perfume, her breathing, and the occasional moan or cry or muttered plea that escaped Stephanie’s lips.

“Pleeeease…….(….oh…oh….stop,….ooooh….)…..no…more….”   my sorry little victim sighed and moaned. “Oh, it hurts, it hurts so, my arms, my vagina, my shoulders, oh—it hurts everywhere, my wrists, they’re cut, oh, no, my pussy, my pussy!   I can’t take it any more-Please stop, just finish, ohhh…owwwwWWWW!!”

I pressed my lips upon hers, “kissing” her, squeezed her tighter and  kept up my merciless pounding into her teenage girlhood.  I looked into her weeping eyes—once so merry and blue--and in seconds—or was it minutes?—I found myself at the point of no return.  Time ceased to exist, and I was lost in the thrall of her pristine loveliness, the sense of her silk and her skin and her tits and cunt, and most of all: the violent deflowering of my captive young goddess.

It was surreal.  My head was light and floaty.  I was awash with the sight of Stephanie, the feel of Stephanie, the soft  brush of Stephanie’s pink lingerie,  the spray of blonde curls on dirty carpet, the sweet female smell of Stephanie, and the tight press of Stephanie’s girlhood, all blended together in a rush,  as my prick,  pumped with blood, exploded in a white frenzy of lust—and shot my semen into her—a rush of ecstasy from the bottom of my belly, at once slowly and instantaneously rushing up and out.  I felt myself spraying into her, and spraying again,  lining her vagina, filling her womb.

It was the most intense ejaculation I have ever experienced.  No exaggeration.   The instant I sprayed her, she gasped, her blue eyes focused on mine in anguish.

I pulled back, and shoved my hard meat right back into her, and I could feel yet another ejaculation of my cock’s juices flow into the girl.

She knew.

She knew, had felt, my cum enter her.

“Ohhhh….noooo….” Stephanie whimpered.

I withdrew a little, and plunged myself into her, again, and as deep as ever, and another burst of my cum burst into the girl.

And another.

And still another!

I’ve had some great orgasms in my life.  I’ve deflowered a few virgins.  And I’ve been privileged to fuck some real beauties here and there.  Tell the truth, I’ve engaged in a bit of “non-consensual sex” as opportunity allowed.

But cumming in lovely, young, trussed-up Stephanie—exploding as I was—I’ve never had everything, so perfect and so intense, with one girl like this.  I was carried away in a truly once-in-a-lifetime fuck!

Or rather, rape!

Such an aristocratic beauty. So tight.  So pure and pristine, and yet so deserving of sadistic rape!

The blonde teenager, still weeping, turned her head to her side, looking away, as she felt my orgasm conclude.  I turned her upward, making her look at me.  I wanted her to keep my face in her memory, forever.  I continued thrusting into the girl, as my climax began to ebb.  There were more spasms of pleasure: every push elicited a little more ejaculation, and every one was wonderful, in differing and lesser ways, as I  emptied my loins into the lovely hog-tied virgin lying on the grungy carpet beneath me.

In a minute or so, I slowed down and stopped.  I lay down on her, flat, catching my wind, and my breathing began to synchronize with her sobbing.  I lowered my head onto the crook of her neck, and buried my face in the mass of fragrant golden mane that spilled about her head.  With my left hand, I fingered her hair.  My right hand wandered down the side of her torso, tracing her nubile curves along the lines of her skin and through the folds of her slip.

She felt so nice.  Her body, her hair, her clothes—all so soft, fine, feminine.  So much to enjoy with lovely prey, even as my penis was soft—very happy and comfortable, but soft—inside her.  My lust was reduced to a few occasional small gushes, but the feel of my raped schoolgirl was still a delight.  She was mine.  She could move back to her pristine, aristocratic state in her prestigious Catholic academy, but I had stolen something—her purity and her innocence—and that would never be the same, ever.  That really gladdened my pernicious heart, I dare say.

I lay upon her for at least several minutes, absorbing the beauty of the girl and the evil beauty of the rape. She lay beneath me, rather still, sobbing quietly.  I’m sure the pressure on her bound-up arms and legs still hurt.  And my cock was still pretty hard, filling her tight pussy.

Finally I propped myself up on my elbows, looking down at her.  With my fingertip I started tracing her lovely face, memorizing the smallest details of her eyebrows, nose, cheeks, lips, chin, for my memory bank.  In fondled and combed her hair with my fingers.  She stopped crying, save for an occasional gasp or sob.  We had both recovered to normal pulse and breathing, and we breathed in synch, almost like lovers.

She looked up at me with those blue-eyes-to-die-for.  “You came in me, did you?  Did you…ejaculate in me?”

I chuckled.  “I should slap you silly for asking such a stupid question, whore.  Of course I came in you.  And you felt it, too, didn’t you?”

I frowned, hinting that an answer was required.

“Y-yes.  Yes.  I felt it.  Did you have to?  Couldn’t you have pulled out?”  Tears began to form in her eyes again.  “I’ve seen porno movies.  I know you could have, well, pulled out and done it outside.”  Now she was really crying. “I’m, I’m half-way to my next period.  I’m…I’m…I think I’m ovulating!”

Now it was time to start fucking her mind.

“Ah, Stephanie.”  My voice was warm and soothing.  “The gift that keeps on giving!  What do you think we should name our baby?  You’re going to have a baby?  That’s wonderful—I love children!  You don’t believe in abortion, do you?  Nice Catholic girl like you, huh?”

I punctuated my point with a little push of my softening prick back into her pussy.

She uttered a little shriek, and the tears really began to flow.

Again.

Like the sensation of tight cunt around my cock, the sight and sound of this girl crying was never average or routine.  It was always a pleasure.

I felt I was, at last, pretty much through raping her.

But not fucking her.  There was more in that department I could do.  As I told you, there’s a real sadistic streak in me, and it doesn’t necessarily mean whips and clubs and things.   

Slowly, savoring every lingering sensation, I lifted myself up, my prick easing out of her still-somewhat-tight cunt with a wet plop.  First to my knees, then my feet, I got up, my slimy, limp, but very contended virgin-fucker hanging over her.  Standing, I leaned against a building column, and looked down at my handiwork, this beautiful teenager lying on the grubby floor at my feet.  Her slip was like a shiny pink rope around her waist.  Her beautiful orbs sticking straight up. Her wrists and ankles, cojoined around the small of her back, pushed her gaping pussy right up at me.  And best of all, her light brown cunt was matted with sweat, cum, and a bit of smearing of blood.

Apart from the physical pleasure of having fucked her, was the thrill that she was a thoroughly well raped and defiled virgin!  Wordlessly, I rolled her over and cut the nylon ties that bound her limbs together—but kept the ones on her wrists and ankles on.

Stephanie pulled herself into a sitting position, rubbing her wrists and ankles.  They were quite red and sore.  Neither of us spoke as she stretched and massaged her shoulders, arms, and legs, giving them some circulation and relief.  I stayed there for at least five minutes, just looking at her, sittingon the grubby office carpet, with scattered litter and crap all around the place.  She made no effort to cover her tits or cunt as she stretched and massaged her sore limbs.

  She had been so proper and fashionable.  Quite a contrast, now. With a bit more time, she just sat there, legs tucked back to her butt, quiet and stunned.

“On your feet, whore!”  I barked.

Stephanie pulled herself up, awkwardly.  “I’m not a whore, mister.  I’m not.  You raped me.”  There was a choke to her voice.  “I was a virgin, and you raped me, and you’ll pay for it someday.   Somehow.  I don’t know when or how or by whom, but you will, by somebody.

“And by God.  You will answer to God.   But, but I’m not a whore.”

I was impressed with her composure.

“Yes you are, candy crotch!  You’re a whore cause you enjoyed it.  You came.  I felt it.  I felt you get excited and climax!”

It wasn’t true, of course.  But it was fun to fuck with her mind.

“I did not!  I didn’t, I didn’t!”

I pulled her to her feet, and bent her over a desk, twisting an arm behind her back for pain compliance.  “You’re more than a whore—you’re a slut, a fucking slut!”  Then I yanked her slip, pulling it all the way down her hips.   It fell in a puddle of wrinkled pink about her feet. 

Ironically, Stephanie was now, for the first time,  completely naked.

This was no accident.  I have a fetish for girls in pretty satin, and I had very thoroughly enjoyed fondling and raping Stephanie while she wore her silky halfslip. Fondling her through her silk dress, then keeping the slip on when I raped her, was an indulgence in my fetish.   But now I wanted my beautiful fuck-goddess naked.  I turned her around.  Naked, we faced each other.

I took her wrist, and pushed it to her back, and got a handful of blonde hair at her nape with the other.  I then lead her to a mirror. 

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the dirtiest whore of all?”  I laughed.

She slouched, turning aside from the mirror, moaning.  “Ohhhh,,,noo…p-please…”

“Come on, candy crotch!  ‘Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the sluttiest whore of all?’  Huh??  Huh!!!??”  I twisted her arm back, hard.

“I, I’m not…a…slut…or, or a whore…I’m a g-g-good girl, g-girl, I don’t, --I-I-I’m—I was, was--a virg—“

“Don’t argue with me, bitch!” I yelled, as I slugged her in her flat tummy.

She doubled over, and collapsed onto the floor, crying, curling into a ball.  Sobbing.  She buried her face in her hands, weeping, and her hair fell over, obscuring her face.  “No, no, no,…you…you …did it…you, you raped me, you raped me, you bastard, you, you fucking bastard, YOU ROBBED ME OF  MY VIRGINITY!”

I knelt down, and pulled her hair away from her face.   “Yes, Stephanie.  You’re absolutely right.  I am a fucking bastard.  I’m a bastard, and I fucked you, Stephanie.  Hot damn, you were fantastic.   I fucked you. Fucked, fucked, fucked you!   And anytime somebody asks you—especially boys who are dating you, or courting you, ‘Honey, have you ever….are you a virgin?’  The answer is, ‘No—I’m not a virgin.  I’ve been fucked!’   Now give me a kiss!”  And I pulled her head up, and made her lips meet mine. 

Then I pulled her back to her feet, and held her closely, holding her tightly, keeping her head pointed upwards while I planted mock-romantic little kisses all over her face.  I turned her back to me, so we both faced the dirty mirror on the wall.  I reached around her, cupped and fondled her sweet breasts; her nipples puckered out, nice and taunt.  “You’re such an adorable little slut, Stephanie.  You’re a slut because I’ve turned you into one.  And now you’re free to go out and fuck any guy you want, without having to ‘save yourself for marriage.’  You don’t have anything to save anymore, because I took it.”

Stephanie lowered her head to the carpet, and tears continued to streak  down her cheeks.   Those perky 34-B tits rose and fell.  It was great pawing them.

“You’re a slut, Stephanie.  You’re a whore.  I’ve turned you into one, and over the next few years, you’re going to fuck lots and lots of men, and they’re all going to enjoy your beauty and your wonderful body.  You’re probably saying, ‘No, no, I’ll never do that….but you’ll see I’m right.  Almost every girl who gets raped ends up being a promiscuous slut.

“And you will be one, too.  You’ll see.  You probably won’t enjoy sex that much, because you’ll always be looking for that special guy with the magic cock who will make sex good.  You’ll be looking for the one guy who will heal you of the pain of being raped, who will make you  ‘clean,’  but you’ll never, ever find him.  You’ll be a drop-dead-gorgeous fuck-slut for lots and lots of guys!”

I kept feeling her up.  The desire in my loins was sated, for now, but it was still lots of fun touching her and fucking with her mind.  “A lot of people will still think you’re a nice, clean girl, but word will soon spread around campus that you can be had.  And that will start with your boyfriend downstairs!”  I put my arm around her shoulder, and led her back to the spot where I had raped her.

“Pick up those clothes.  Mine, too.”

She bent over stiffly—painfully?—and gathered them in her arms.  The dress and slip were draped over her arm, swaying.  Other things got kind of bunched together, and she had some trouble managing four shoes, but finally had everything together.  “Good.  Let’s go back to the truck and see how Mr. Not-So-Wonderful is doing.  Is he a serious boyfriend?”

“No, not really.  Not now.”

“But was he?”

“Y-yes, I guess.”

“Were you serious about him?  Don’t lie.”

“Yes,” she whispered. 

“You’re what, eighteen, and serious about some fratboy?  Not exactly husband material, is he?  If he wasn’t falling down drunk, you wouldn’t have been raped, now would you?”

“No.”  A note of quiet defeat was in her voice.

It seems I had not only defiled her body.  I had ravaged her courtship!

Naked, the two of us exited the office areas, and walking down the cold, dirty steel catwalk to the iron stairs.  It felt cold and hard under my feet, and hers, too I’m sure.  Down the stairs, and across concrete floor to my van.  When we got there, I took Stephanie into my arms, and held her like her boyfriend would have wanted to, cuddling her.  I whispered my instructions softly into her ear.

“Before you and  Robert get out of here, you two have to earn it.”

She was shivering a bit in the cold garage.  “What—what do you mean?  I mean, want?  What do you want now?”

“I want you to fuck Robert.”

“Ooooooooo….” she sighed, her voice dropping.  “No—no!  Haven’t you done enough?”

“You do love him, don’t you?  Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

“Yes.  No!  I mean, he is, I, I—I mean, not any more, but he’s not that…well,…I don’t sleep, er, make it…oh, please, no, nothing more, just let us go—haven’t, haven’t you  done enough?  I gave you a very good blowjob and you raped me in the most…awful…way.  Aren’t you satisfied?”

“Not yet!  So, you wouldn’t put out for him before, and now that he got drunk and you got raped, he’s hardly Prince Charming, huh?  I guess there’s no way you’re going to give him the honor and the pleasure of your hot young body, isn’t that it, Stephanie?”  She buried her face in her hands, her blonde hair falling forward, hiding her face.

“Isn’t it?  He wasn’t good enough before, and now, even more so, right?”

“Y-yes,” she whimpered.  “He’s a nice boy, he, he..just…drinks…”

“Drinks too much.  And lets you get raped.  By a stranger.  Who has a mean streak and a vicious prick, and shoved it right up your virgin cunt, eh?  Now give your rapist a kiss!”  I didn’t wait for Stephanie to respond, but just grabbed my naked captive, and pulled her tightly against me, slamming my mouth against her small lips. Our clothes fell out of her arms.   I pushed her against the pipe railing on the catwalk.  It felt cool to my touch, and was colder to her backside, I’m sure. I finished kissing my victim, and cupped and fondled her tits for a minute or so. Then I squeezed them and pinched her nipples until I was rewarded with a loud, “O-o-ourch!”

Then I had her pick up the clothes and shoes again.

We walked across the dirty floor to where my van was parked.  I opened the back, and was greeted with “Oooommph!” and some thrashing from the poor, gagged, and well-bound Robert.  Ah, he had woken up from his drunk!  I shoved the naked Stephanie to the back, and held her steady.  “Hey, Robert!  Here’s Stephanie!  Isn’t she a sight!” 

Stephanie moaned, “Robert….I….” 

But I put my hand over her mouth, and an arm around her hourglass waist, and whispered, “Shut the fuck up, slut!  You speak when I give you permission to speak!” 

I had drop the bundle of clothes.   Instinctively neat, she laid out her dress, and kind of folded her slip, bra, and panties.  She was about to organize my clothes, but I kicked her in butt.  Giving out a whelp, she turned to await my next instruction.

       I turned her so she was facing Robert, full-front and naked.

       “Beautiful, isn’t she?  Did you ever think she would be this fantastic, this sexy?”

I continued.   “I’ll bet when you picked her up tonight you didn’t think you’d get a chance to see her with her clothes off—isn’t she hot?”

Stephanie moaned, and started to whine, “Please, I beg you—“

I pulled her head back into the crook of my neck, and growled through her tosseled hair, “Just shut the fuck up!”  Then I wrapped my arms around her lithe body, just below her ribcage, holding her tightly, the two of us facing Robert. 

       “You want to know why she’s naked, boy?  Because I stripped her!  I stripped her, and I fucked her!  I didn’t just fuck her, your pretty little Stephanie, here”—my hands went up to her tits, and I lifted them up like an offering—“I raped her!  I fucking raped her!  I took your hot little Stephanie while you were passed-out drunk, and played with her juicy little body and  raped her!”

       The girl was crying.  Damn, it energized me and made me feel, well,  fiendish!  Under her titflesh, I could feel her chest heave, her lungs gasping in irregular breaths.  But she stood still, her arms limp to her side, while I started squeezing her breasts, and brazenly twisted her nipples.

       “Look at her, Robert.  Look at her!  She’s  beautiful, isn’t she?  Isn’t she the most fuckable girl you’ve ever seen?  Do you like making other guys jealous when you take her out? You watch other guys giving her the eye?  I’ll bet you drop little hints that you’re making it with her, huh?  But you don’t.  Nobody does.  Nobody’s ever made her--except me!  Wouldn’t  you just love to fuck her?   To really, actually fuck her?  Do you fantasize about her when you jerk off?  Wishing you could shove your miserable little dick into her?  Well, I did!”  I gloated. 

Reaching around to her front, I kept squeezing a tit, but my other hand slid down to her cunt, and I dug it into her crotch.  She obediently separated her legs a little, and I slid my fuck finger into her, and started finger-fucking her. And you know what else?  She was a virgin!”  I kept digging my finger in and out of her pussy.  It was still wet and slippery with her pussy juices and my cum.  “ Cherry!  I popped your girlfriend’s cherry!  And she bled—she fucking BLED!”  My fingers kept digging into her crotch, as I rubbed her pussy up and down.  It was still warm and very moist.  I groped her, and kept fingering her, in and out several more times.  “Open your legs more, slut, so I can get in good and deep!”  Stephanie spread her feet, squatting a little, and I continued fingering her cunt while I taunted her pathetic wimp boyfriend.

       He moaned into his gag, thrashing about.

       College boy’s eyes were huge as he watched me finger-fuck his lovely high-school girlfriend. 

       “And there’s more.  I’m hardly done with her—I’m hardly through with this girl, you think  I’d just fuck a dreamboat like Stephanie and be done with her??!”  I turned her around, forcing another wet, deep-tongue kiss on the teenager, digging my finger up into her cunt against me, holding her steady with an arm around her waist.  I broke the kiss, and reached for another handful of nylon zipties.  Then I grabbed her by her hair, turning her around and shoving her over the rear bumper.  Stephanie’s torso was lying over the cold, greasy floor of the van, with her knees on the cement pavement. 

There was an apparatus hanging from the ceiling, apparently something for lifting heavy equipment or freight, like large barrels.   It had a rectangular iron frame, about five feet by three.   At each corner of the frame was a length of chain maybe a couple of feet, with a hook at the end. A switchbox hung on a powercord from an overhead motor. As the motor lowered it to about a meter’s height,  I tilted it and shoved her under the frame.    I pulled each wrist to a front hook, and looped the zip-ties onto them, and then pulled the zip-ties tight so she couldn’t jiggle them loose. I hit the up switch, and the cargo-hauler lifted her up, up, up, until her pretty little feet were a few inches off the concrete floor.

With her arms pulled up, Stephanie’s tits lifted nicely, so I resumed pawing them.  “Nooo….” She whined.  “Haven’t you…done enough?  Please, …please!  That hurts!”

“But it amuses me,” I countered, “and that’s what counts!”  She tried to jiggle off, bitching and asking questions, so I shut her up with slug to her temple.  “Shut the fuck up, whore!  It’s not supposed to make you comfortable.  It’s suppose to make you entertaining!” 

From inside the van, Robert mumbled objections through his gag and banged his bound legs about.  “Patience, my boy!” called in a merry voice.  “There’s more fun to be had with our sexy slut Stephanie here, and if you’re a good boy, you’ll get in on it, too!”  I removed the belt from my pants, and approached the hanging beauty.  I took a position at her rear, and gave her small little ass cheeks nine or ten good whacks.  She screamed, of course, and it was a sadist’s sonata as her girlish soprano filled the cavernous warehouse, only to die off at the distant walls.  The little preppie cunt  swung and kicked, but could do nothing, of course, to protect herself.  I laid down the belt on her buttocks and thighs, raising a nice pattern of horizontal, blue-black welts.  Then I moved to her front.

I paused for a moment, looking at those perfect, trim, 34-B tits.  Such perfect form, no sag, cute nipples.  How I’ve admired teen breasts like hers, on the internet, too-good-to-be-true, just wishing I could have at them!

Then I let her have it.  Four, five, six, seven times, the belt went across that young teenage bosom.  Left-to-right, right-to-left, my diagonal whipping produced a cris-cross pattern of lines. She screamed, screamed, and screamed some more, begging and threatening and begging some more.  Never mind what she said, I don’t remember.  But I’ll never forget the way her screams ricocheted around the harsh gray walls of the warehouse, only to break down to gasping breaths and heaving sobs.  Her creamy breasts, grossly discolored with purplish whelps, jiggled as she twisted this way and that.  I gave her a moment to catch her breath, and then delivered another ten or eleven stripes, this time including her tight tummy in the target area.

I didn’t want to maim or disfigure her, not too much, anyway.  I wasn’t about to snuff these kids—they’d have to be returned to society with an opportunity to recover.  I just wanted to hurt her some more, this gorgeous upscale cockteaser, so that she’d be traumatized above and beyond mere rape.  I had probably laid more than thirty-five lashes on her, front and back, when I figured she’d had enough. Most of her torso was discolored with purplish welts, with a few producing a little blood. On the last ones—put on her back—she just hung passively, giving out a grunt or a weakened “urgh!” with each blow.

I pulled her head back by her hair.  Her eyes were dry, with a vacant look.  I kissed her, long, hard, wet and deep.  “You’re a fucking, ugly mess, not  the classy lassie in the beige pink dress who came in here a couple of hours ago, huh?”  Stephanie kind of tried to shake her head, mouthed something (“nooo…”?).  I pushed her messed-up hair back, tucking the chaotic curls behind her ears, and gave her another kiss.

“I’m not through with you, bitch,” I whispered.  “Not by a long shot.  And I’ve got a surprise treat for Robert, just so you know.”

Then I gave her another kiss.  It’s funny, and very sick of me, how I love to kiss a girl when I hurt her.  Some day maybe I’ll figure out why. 

My aristocratic young beauty was now hanging from the rectangular freight lift like a piece of meat.  I lowered her down.  Her feet took to the floor, and she stood for just a moment before her knees crumpled, and she was lowered to the floor in a heap. 

When the iron frame was a meter off the floor, I grabbed one of those slim, trim ankles and raised it to an opposite corner, and hooked the nylon zip-tie onto its hook.  Now she was really frightened, and she kicked out at me with that last free foot, swinging and screaming, “noooo!  No more—please, haven’t you done enough?!” .  It was a real effort to control that, and get it onto the last corner hook, but I managed.

Stephanie Davidson, raped and abused and now whipped and tortured, was hanging face-down, spread-eagled from the corners of the rectangular frame.  Her discolored body hung, bowed downward, and her cunt fell at the apogee. The nylon ties were really digging into her ankles and wrists.

I reached down and  gave her tits a long hard squeeze to teach her a lesson. After whipping them, they must have been awfully tender. “Ugh—ohhhhHHH!  Stop, oh, I’m begging you, stop!”   I hit “up” until the frame with my hanging beauty even with my face. Then I grabbed her nape to steady her head, and gave her tear-stained face some slaps back and forth.

“Comfy?  You’re in for a real treat.

“Well, at least I am,” I whispered into her ear.  I kissed and nuzzled her face while I groped and squeezed her wounded, hanging tits.

Then I hit the “down” button, bringing her down to a bit lower than my waist.

So Stephanie was the way I wanted: hanging down, her body bowed downwards,  with her arms spread-eagled out to the corners of the frame, where they were firmly affixed to the hooks.   She surely knew that something really bad was in the works—she would be right—and she started to wriggle and twist to get herself out. 

“Please, mister, please…this hurts so…oh, my wrists!  I’ll do whatever you want, just…oh, please…let me down—tell me what you want, I’ll do it. Do you want to fuck me again?  I’ll suck you off, fuck you--anything,  anything!”

“But my dear, you are doing what I want!  Hanging here with your precious little body ready for anything I want to do to it!

“Let’s get Robert into our little party, shall we, darling?” I asked with mock politeness.  Humiliating her was a gas.   “Let’s bring him over!” 

I stepped over to the van, and checked the back.  He was still there, and had made no progress in freeing himself from the nylon zipties.  I yanked off his gag.  “Please, mister, just let us go, we won’t say anything, just let us go, I promise!”

Although excited, his voice was slurred.

Such a coward, and still drunk!

“You’re a pathetic drunken loser.  Thanks to you, your little Stephanie lost her virginity tonight, you know that?  I took it, but it’s your fault.   And it was really nice, fucking her, sinking my cock into her tight young body.  And she was pure cherry, you know that?  Real, real cherry!  And tight!  Damn, she was one tight little pussy, Robert!  I want you to think about that!”

He begged and threatened and bargained and cried; he was pathetic, pleading for his life--what cops call “a child of privilege.”  And I had never threatened him!

I walked around and got in the driver’s seat.  I drove over to where Stephanie was hanging, and backed the van so the rear doors opened facing the hoist with its cargo of prime girl flesh! I stopped when I saw the van roof bump up against the cable

I returned to Stephanie.  The frame she was suspended from bumped against the rear of the van.   Holding her face in my hands, I kissed her some more:  a long, sensuous, deep-tongued kiss.  This time, Robert was an audience, which made my acts of abuse and violation on Stephanie all the more intense.  The feel of her lips, the wet warmth of her mouth, enchanted me.

“Mister, leave her alone!   Haven’t you done enough to her enough?  She’s a decent girl—just let us go!” wailed the loser.

“You mean, she was a decent girl.  She’s damaged goods now, and about to become a lot more damaged!”

              Forced kissing the hanging beauty ignited small spasms of refreshed lust in the tip of my penis.  I thrust my face up to hers, and her golden curls fell down, caressing my cheeks and neck. I twisted the cargo frame so Robert had a good view of her suspended body.  I wondered what he thought of her wounded tits hanging down, her discolored ass cheeks, her blonde cunt—or me, naked and barefooted on the concrete floor, with my prick getting hard again, pointing upwards, getting ready for more action? It wouldn’t be too long before I would be ready to rock ‘n’ roll Stephanie again! 

I positioned her so she was facing Robert in the back of the van.  I leaned in to the van, and pick up a utility knife. Robert was on his side.   I cut the zip ties that hogtied his ankles up to his wrists, and the boyfriend immediately stretches out his legs.  He squirmed, seeking relief.  “Please, mister, cut these things on my wrists, they fucking hurt!”

“Not fucking likely, Robert.  Look at Stephanie, hanging the way she is.  She’s hurting, you think I’m going to give an alcoholic asshole like you a break?!”  I pulled Robert towards the edge of the van’s cargo door, and position him so he’s lying on his back, with his legs hanging off the edge at the knees.  Then  I reached for his belt buckle, and pull it open.

“Hey—whaaaaat!” the drunk inquired.

Then I opened his trousers, unzipping the fly.

“Hey, m-m-mister, what, what are you doing?”

I didn’t have to answer him.

So I didn’t.

Next—and I’m not gay or bi- or anything, if you haven’t figured that out—I pulled his pathetic, limp little prick through the fly of his plaid boxers.

“Well, well, well!”  I teased.  “Here is the noble manhood that lusted after pretty, virginal Stephanie!

“Except that I got her first…”

I glanced at the blonde hanging next to us, gazing down.  She didn’t say anything, but her face was full of unhappiness, or uncertainty, or both.

“Mister,” he pled, “what are you up to—haven’t you done enough, please?  Please, just leave us alone and don’t, don’t….don’t…hurt…hurt me...”

I picked up the switchbox, and started lowering Stephanie.  Now the fun was about to start!

I maneuvered her until she was even with Robert’s lap, and her face was right over his sorry little dick.  She was looking down at it, and her mussed-up golden curls dangled onto his lap.  Now they realized what I was up to, and the two of them started begging and carrying on. Then I moved to the rear—Stephanie’s rear—of the rectangular frame, and squeezed in between her purpled thighs, pressing my cock against her spread crotch.

“Now this is what we’re going to do, Baby!”  I cheerfully announced.  I’m going to get some action back here, honey—and I want you to give Robert a blow-job.  Not that he’s deserving of any favors here, but I want to see your head moving up and down sucking Robert’s little wee-wee.  Now be a nice girlfriend, and start sucking him off!”

“No, no, no—not that”

Robert pled, “Stephanie, you don’t have to do that—don’t let him make you—it’s okay, honey,…don’t…just don’t…”

“Mister, please, it hurts so, my ankles—“

They cried and prattled on with all sorts of refusals and threats and things.

I gave Stephanie’s bruised ass cheeks a couple of good, hard spanks--“Eeeeeyiiiii!!”—and lowered the frame holding the hanging beauty a little.  Another few inches, and her face was just atop the fratboy’s crotch.

Which put her ass crack even with my rising dick.  I lifted it up, and nestled it between her cheeks, rubbing it between the cool, smooth globes.  I could feel my lust responding in an instant!

“Now, Stephanie, open your mouth, and eat meat!”

“Oooooo….!!”  She exclaimed, but I gave her another hard spank.  She dropped her head, and, through the messy cascade of blonde curls, I could just  see—barely--her lips open and take in the tip—just the tip—of his dick.

“More!”  I bellowed, “Eat his prick!”  I began shoving and stroking my fast-growing erection against her exposed crotch and those nice, nice buns! I tilted the iron frame a bit, so her ass was right at the height of my crotch, and her two orifices were aimed down towards my prick. 

I was hard now, and slid my meat  right into her pussy.

“Oh, ohhhhhhh, Stephanie, this is even better than when I fucked—I mean raped—you up in the office, you know?” 

She was a polite girl. She didn’t answer.

Her mouth was full.

With Robert’s little penis.

I got her swaying in a small motion.  Not too much, because I wanted her to keep working on Robert, but between a bit of swinging of her in the frame, and my thrusting forward and back, I got a great range of motion and a really fantastic rhythm, sliding in and out of her teenage pussy.  Stephanie was a little roomier now, and good and moist, but she was still a small girl, and there was a nice snug grip clasping my dick as I fucked her and fucked her and fucked her.

Damn, it is so nice to have a beautiful teenage girl and to just fuck away at her with wild abandon!

I reached forward and pulled her hair back, to get a better view of the blowjob.  She had his entire dick in her mouth—all of it!!  Her lips were right up to his scrotum, and her nose was buried in his pubic hair.

I gripped the sides of the steel frame, keeping is steady, and started fucking Stephanie in earnest.  Now, I know how my sexual energy works.  A second-time fuck is better in many ways, but it tends to take me longer to get my rocks off than the first.  (And a third, even longer—unless I get some time off or a good rest!)  So I figured I was in for a good, long fuck.  That was part of my reason for restraining her in the cargo frame.  It would keep her legs spread at a good angle, and I could just pound her pussy at whatever rate I wanted.

For as long as I wanted to, or needed to.

And having her suck off Robert was just a bit of malicious psychology.  Doing something sadistic heightens the eroticism of the whole rape thing.  I’m actually rather well read on psychopathology (being a rapist) and the law.  Forcing her to suck off Robert turned the incident into multiple counts of rape:  Robert’s dick in her mouth was the same as if I had my dick in her mouth.  Legally and spiritually, I was raping her in two holes.

Simultaneously.

And I wasn’t about to stop there.

These two spoiled brats had a lot more coming to them!

I dug my fingers into the globes of her ass, mauling them and spreading them while I kept fucking her. A bit of adjusting, and I was fitting in nicely, and banging away at her pussy, from her rear.  Occasionally, I would lean forward, and pull her hair back to see how the blowjob was coming.

       And it wasn’t!  Stephanie was sucking away, but damn! Robert was still soft as shit!  “Come on, boy—you’ve been dieing to get some action from Stephanie here, so get with it!  Get going—can’t you get it up, you little twerp?”

I squeezed in tighter between the girl’s thighs, and was pumping away at her, getting into her right up to the hilt. I slapped and squeezed her wounded buttocks all the while.  I leaned forward, and gathered her hair in my fist, and pushed her head up and down in a rhythm matching my pounding away at her pussy.

“You can do better than that, Bobbie-boo!  Are you a faggot or something?  Or just too drunk?  A real man would have his dick up and be filling her mouth with cum by now!  Come on—queer bait!--  Get it on!”

“Mister, I don’t want to do this!”  the little shithead whined.  “Let us go—she’s a decent girl, don’t make her do this, and I promise we won’t go to the police!”

Robert was managing to get me really pissed off, and make hate him even more—if that were possible!  Here he was, getting a blowjob from Little Miss Prim and Pretty, and all he could do was complain!  Besides,  he was distracting me from fucking Stephanie.  After all, this was my third rape of her in as many hours.  Now I’m a horny guy who can handle his load, but I’m not omnipotent!

He jabbered away while Stephanie sucked away and I fucked away, but his incessant belly-aching was getting on my nerves, and I was getting pissed, which made me lose my concentration.

And nothing helps me focus on rape like pain.

Somebody else’s pain.

I gave Stephanie several good, hard, thrusts, pushing in hard and deep, which was very stimulating and reinforced my erection—not that I had gone soft or anything.

“Come on, mister, haven’t you had enough already?” the little frat-brat whined.

“No.  But you have!”

I leaned forward, covering Stephanie’s back with my body, lying on her.  I felt the girl give out a little “oomph,” but she kept on sucking Robert’s little weiner.

I took her hair in my left hand, brushing it off her cheek, down her left side, and tilting her head that way.  Good girl, she kept sucking his pathetic limp little excuse of manhood..

Her face clear, her head angled away, I took the heel of my right hand and slammed it up against Stephanie’s aristocratic jaw—good, hard, and sudden.

“YEEEEEEOW!!” screamed Bobby as Stephanie’s teeth dug into his boy-flesh.  “YEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOW!!”  I could feel Stephanie pull her head away, but I kept my grip on her hair with my left hand and pushed it down into his lap, so her face was shoved right down into his public hair, and delivered another slam against the bottom of her chin, and Robert screamed out again, a loud, falsetto scream.  Then another scream, and another, and another.  They faded into the empty expanses of the warehouse, and Robert was soon reduced to a pathetic blubbering of tears and crying.

And begging.  From a girl, I love begging—it turns me on.  But from a guy, it disgusts me.  Not to mention that—remember, this was my third penetration of the girl in about two hours—he was giving me trouble with my concentration.  So I figured, to hell with the wuss, I’ll deal with him later!  and  resumed my rear-end rape of Stephanie with renewed gusto.

I swung the suspended girl ninety degrees to the left, and really laid into her, giving her good, long thrusts, jamming my cock hard and deep up her pussy.  When I had the swing of the hoist apparatus stabilized, I dug my fingers back into her ass cheeks, which were pretty red and bruised now.  And I just fucked away at her.  It felt so damned good, as she was stretched a bit more and pretty well lubed, too, but the deeper recess of her cunt was nice and snug:  not too tight, but not loose, either.

Just right!

       Long thrusts were pulling the heat, what there was left in me, from the depths of my black soul and loins, slowly but surely.  Robert cried and complained, but I could tune him out now, as I looked at the backside of Stephanie’s great teenage body, stretched and hanging from the corners of the rectangular cargo frame.

       When I found I was hitting a bit of a plateau with my lust, and staying there, I shortened my stroke and delivered fast jabs into her pussy, using about half the length of my penis.  And that felt good, but, well, damn it, there’s no way to say it, but I was having an intensely pleasurable fuck, but getting up to climax was beginning to be a bit of a, well, challenge. 

       I was beginning to wish I had some Viagra!  But there’s one thing that always gets me going:  pain. 

       Pain!

       As I said, not mine, of course.

       Somebody else’s!

       I reached forward, and gathered Stephanie’s unkempt blonde curls, pulling her locks back from her temples, to the rear of her head, and gathered them in my left fist.

       Then I pulled her hair—and her head—back, firmly, steadily, a little at a time, like the reins of a horse.

       Back, back, back, and up.

       And I kept fucking the high school girl.

       “Owww….OW!”  she complained.  “Ohhh…Oh, OH, OH!”  I drove my dick into her, pulling back, so her body swung back to meet my forward thrusts.   “It hurts, please, stop, stop! It hurts, let go, ooooOWWW!”  Stephanie let out a piercing scream, “Please, STOP—it hurts, IT HURTS, PLEASE—Please, PLEASE!”

       It was working.  The clear evidence of Stephanie’s renewed torment was getting me going, and I could feel the first inklings of impending orgasm somewhere deep inside my dark depths.  I grabbed her hair with both hands, pulling back hard, and a slight glance at the front of her face showed tears yet again streaming down her patrician cheeks.

       I went on raping my prey.  With my fingers laced that tangle of blonde curls, I jabbed my prick into her pussy in a  refreshed frenzy.   The tip of my dick was beginning to buzz with the anticipation of yet another orgasm. Stephanie continued to scream and cry and beg, and her hysteria was a symphony to my sordid soul.  Robert, too, joined in, shouting and screaming his pathetic pleas and threat.  I hardly paid attention to their actual words—but their combined voices of agony and desperation filled the void of the garage, echoing off the cement walls.

        Nobody was there to hear, except for me. I knew that their ordeal, and Stephanie’s first, brutal sexual experience, her rape, would forever be seared on her memory!

       I lay forward upon her, lying on her blackened backside, and adjusted my angle so I could keep up those fast, half-cock jabs into her pussy.  I kept my left hand in her hair, and turned her head so her face was next to mine.   Stephanie was reduced to whimpering.   “Did you ever dream of a beautiful wedding night, with an attentive husband making love to you in some refined way, Stephanie?”

       “Ohhh…please….OW!”  she blubbered.

       “With soft white silk all over your creamy sweet skin?”

       “Oooo…” she sobbed.  “Stop, stop, everything hurts so, please…”

       “Well?  Did you?”  I insisted.

       “Yes.  Yes!”

       “Well, I guess you won’t give your virginity to your husband, then, will you?  Looks like you lost it when your drunken asshole Robert.  And I’ll suppose you were expecting your husband to caress and kiss and touch and cup your beautiful breasts in some gentle sensitive way, huh?  HUH?”  And I reached around her, and grabbed her gorgeous tits, which were hanging from her ribcage so magnificently.

       I gave them both a good hard squeeze.

       Stephanie yelled out again.

       SoI kept fucking her.

       And raping her,

       Squeezing and mauling her tits, and driving my dick into her, harder and harder.

       Stephanie screamed, hollered, and bucked and twisted in agony, as far as her wrists and ankles, hanging from the corner hooks, allowed to.   But I just kept raping my teenage dreamboat, shoving my dick up into her, and squeezed her wonderfully firm 34B breasts and pinched those pretty pink nipples.  This went on for at least several minutes.  I was mounting her from the rear like a German Shepherd, gripping her tits, sometimes wrapping my arms around her waist and squeezing her hard and tight before going back to her tits and mauling them afresh. 

And I kept talking dirt and filth into her pretty little ear, sometimes kissing and licking it.

       And before I knew it, my crotch caught fire, and a flash of hot jizz shot up through the center of my burning penis, and a gush of cum burst into Stephanie’s womb.

       Then another.

       And still another.

       I could hardly believe I had this much left in me!   I pulled back, and shoved my length all the way back into my dear, abused Stephanie, and felt still yet another emission of my fuck-juice into her girlhood.

       It felt so good.  I relaxed, lying on the back of my stretched-out victim.  This last rape was exquisite, but I’ll admit the truth, it sure took a lot out of me!  So I just lay upon Stephanie, breathing hard, catching my breath while my heart  pounded away.

       Stephanie just hung there, and her head hung down limply.  Her hair covered her face, but I could tell she was crying again.  Nothing like the soft, sorrowful tears of a well-raped girl!   I wriggled my dick inside her, trying to get as deep as I could, because I could tell I was going to go soft soon, and I wanted to keep as much of my meat as possible inside her for a while yet.  My head and face were kind of nestled in the crook of her neck, facing her neck, and I inhaled her  hair.  I stroked her shoulders and arms, noting that she had such nice skin.  I had missed them when I whipped her.

       Not that I wanted to be comforting to her.

       I stroked and rubbed the side of her torso, going down to her waist and hips.  I kind of memorized the feel of her body to my hands.  Every once in a while I reached around her, squeezed her, and fondled her grooped her tits a bit more. 

       It was getting towards morning, and a knew that I would have to get these kids put back together, and return them to the real world.  Snuffing them was not an option—I’m a beast, but not that kind of beast!—and gave some thought as to how I should return them to the ordinary world, and minimize my chances of encountering law enforcement over this.

       After a few minutes, I was really finished.   I was soft, and I sort of leaned into her, to savor a last few minutes of the wonderful feel of having my prick inside the cunt of a perfect victim.  Lying on her, I happened to notice her clothes, piled at the rear edge of the van. Along with her dress—damn, such a pretty, pleated pink thing!!—was her lingerie and her heels,

       Now remember, I’m a sadist.  Not the kind of guy who sets up a torture dungeon, but if I’m going to fuck, well, rape a girl, then I want it to hurt.  To hurt, damn it!   What’s the point of raping a girl if her only suffering is a prick up her snatch!  I

       I picked up one of the heels.  It was a sleek pump, three-inch stiletto, salmon-pink grosgrain in a subdued satin, and it complemented her dress perfectly.  Didn’t know I’m a fashion expert, did you?

Well, I’m also a fashion abuser. 

       I took the heel, and spread her ass cheeks with my left hand, exposing the pink pucker of her anus.  Then I applied the tip of the spike to it.

       Stephanie shuddered, and twisted in her restraints.

       “Nooo..!!  NO!!”  she exclaimed. 

       She knew just what was happening.

       I jammed that heel right into her asshole. 

       Deep.

       Right up to the sole.

       “OWWWW!”  she screamed out, and her blonde curls bounced about her head as it rocked back and forth.   “Ohhhh!….No, NO, NO!    Not, that, no, not-that-not-that-oh-it-hurts-it hurts!!-OW, OW!  It hurts, it hurts, please, stop—STOP!!—STOP, please, I’m begging you, I’ll do anything you want, anything, OH!  ANYTHING!”

       “Of course you’ll do anything I want, Stephanie!,” I said flippantly.  “You’ve done everything I’ve wanted to already!    I wouldn’t have it any other way!”

       

I pushed the shoe a little deeper into Stephanie’s black-and-purpled fanny crack, and dug and twisted the heel this way and that while Stephanie cried and screamed and finally settled down to a whimper of pain.

       I picked up her other heel and shoved it into her pussy, maneuvering it around and fucking her with it.  But it was the one stuck up her asshole that was delivering the real pain and humiliation.

       Robert just stared at all this.  He had a glazed look in his eyes.  Whether it was the booze, the shock of having Stephanie’s teeth jammed on his dick, the feelings of impotence over the situation (not to mention his not being able to get hard) I don’t know.  He was just once useless twit.

       Drunken asshole.  None of this would have happened if you hadn’t been a stupid immature drunken asshole, I thought to myself, as I gleefully took the two shoes and shoved one in, the other out of Stephanie’s two holes.  I kept at it for a few minutes, working the spike heels opposite to each other, until I tired of my sport. There was both brown shit and a fair bit of blood on the one in her butt.

I shoved both in as far as I could without lacerating her badly.  I left them sticking out of her holes, and ducked out from inside the iron frame of the equipment hoist.  The one in her pussy slipped out and dropped to the floor, but the one shoved up her asshole stayed put.  I located a utility knife and cut the nylon zip-ties that kept Stephanie’s ankles secured to their corner hooks.  Her lower body fell down, and she landed on her knees, pretty hard, too. 

       Keeping the control box in my hand, I sat down on the edge of the van floor, right on her spread-out dress.  I shoved the front part  of the iron cargo frame, the edge to which her wrists were hooked, in front of me.  I hit the “down” button, and she was lowered further, and Stephanie fell limp,  her body crumpled between her hanging wrists and the floor.

       Her face was tired, reddened, and streaked with tears, sweat, some blood and mussed make-up.  Her once-perfect coiffure  was an unruly mess.  This was beauty to me:  the face of raped, ruined, and  tormented beauty. She partly sat on her hip, and partly hung by her wrists from the forward hooks.  Admiring my handiwork,  I located my clothes and got dressed.

       I hit the “up” button and raised her one last time.  I had Stephanie hanging there, limp, her feet just missing the floor and her head falling forward. She was shamble of a girl now, hanging like the (fuck) mean she now was.   I examined her various cuts, bruises and discolorations scattered about her alabaster-pink skin.  Everything would heal in a week or two.  I had to be sure that she could recover from this, at least physically.

       I found her dress and examined it.  It was wrinkled and smudged a good bit, but otherwise presentable.  It was probably foolish, but I did take her bra and panties and rolled them up in her slip.  I’d keep them as a souvenir, not caring about being in possession of physical evidence.  Hell, my DNA was deep in her!   I kissed her, driving my tongue deep into her mouth, and shoved my fingers up her cunt.  She neither resisted nor cooperated.  Finally, I cut the nylon strips at her wrists, and Stephanie fell onto the hard, dirty concrete floor, with nothing more than an “oooomph,” and collapsed in a chaotic heap of discolored limbs.

       That is an image that will forever be etched in my mind:  this beautiful, slender girl, lying on the floor.  Her ass was flat to the concrete, but her body twisted so she was also on her left shoulder.  Her left arm was thrust out to the rear, her right curled in to her chest, and her legs sprawled out in obscenely opposite angles.  Her face was to the floor, covered by her tangled curls.

       Stephanie’s heeled pump, astonishingly, was still stuck up her asshole!

       I picked up her beige-pink dress and threw it on top of her.  “Get dressed, whore.  You’re going to wear home.

       “Just this.

“And only this.”

       I gave her a bit of a kick on her belly, and Stephanie slowly pulled herself together.  She got up to her hands and knees—still, with that shoe sticking out of her butt!—and her head was still hanging down, like a cow’s.  Finally, she reached around and took hold of the shoe, but looked up at me first in an obvious request for permission.  She paused, holding the shoe in her ass, looking at me through the tangle of golden locks across her face.

       I paused, and she remained motionless on her hands and knees, with a pathetic, plaintiff look on her face.  Finally,  I nodded “yes,” and she extracted it.

       And, damned unsteady, she got up to her feet.

       “Put your dress on. Just the dress.   And the shoes.  I’m keeping everything else, as a little remembrance of our delightful little time.”  She picked up the hem of her pleated skirt, moved it around until it was straight, and pulled it over her head and shoulders, locating the sleeves with some difficulty.  She couldn’t manage the zipper.  Like a loving husband, I stepped forward, and pulled the thing up, taking the time to wrap my arms around her, from the rear, and give her a long, lingering, mock-loving hug.

       I buried my face in the mass of uncombed hair, and found her ear. 

       “I loved raping you, Stephanie.  It was so nice, raping your beautiful, virgin body—being the first man to have the pleasure of shoving his prick into you!”  She stood there, with her head, hair, shoulders, and arms drooping, asI felt upher breasts through the thin material of her silk dress.  Even after all this, her nipples perked up a bit, that involuntary female response!

       I pulled her hands to her rear, and bound them for the ride out.  She submitted to the zip-ties obediently.  I led her to the passenger side and seated her, lifting her skirt so she sat on her naked bum.  Then I spread her pleats neatly across the seat cushion.

       Very dainty!

       I returned to the back and looked at that sorry excuse for masculinity, Robert.

       “Now, where did you park your car, boy?”

       “Sir, please, can we go now, haven’t—“

       I shut up his insipid fat mouth with a slap.

       “Answer my questions, asshole.  Damn, you’re pathetic!  Just tell me to the best you can remember, where did you park your fucking car?”

       “I thought it was Webster Street, but I couldn’t find Webster Street, I got lost, anyway, it was sort of down the street a bit from a little brick church, I think, do you know where Webster Street is?”

       “Yeah.”

       I knew where his car was likely to be.  I know everything about this city.  Actually, it was Webley Street, and he was remembering a health clinic, not a church, but I knew it and could get them there.

       But I had a bit of business to finish up, first. 

       I had some vodka and other liquor which I had taken from some teenagers—a citizen’s confiscation, if you will.  I unscrewed a vodka cap, and put the bottle to his lips.

       “Drink up, boy.  Drink hardy.  The party isn’t over yet!” 

       It was a bit of an effort—and a fair bit spilled onto his shirt and lap—but I managed to get several strong swallows down his throat.

       I was going to get him even drunker.   Then I closed the back door.

       I found some sweetened wine, and took it to the front.

       “Do you drink, Stephanie?”  I asked.

       “No,” she answered after a long sigh.  “Not really.  A little, well, wine.  My parents don’t allow drinking.”

       “Well, you will now.  You’re going to swallow some of this, or I’m going to take you out of the van and start beating you up again.”  I put it to her lips, and forced some down her throat.

       Then some more.

       And some more.

       She winced, and stopped to catch her breath.  I let it settle in her tummy, then put the bottle to her lips, and made her close her lips around it.  Then I held it up, forcing several long, hard swallows down her throat, until she couldn’t take any more, and pulled her head away, spilling some onto her dress.

       It was time to go—damn, it was getting light outside!—and I wanted the booze to settle into the kids’ stomachs and start getting into their bloodstreams.  I started up, and drove to the door, got out, and hit the “open” switch.  Then I was on my way, the door shutting behind me.

       “I want you to know something, Stephanie.  You better hear this straight, understand me, and remember it.  Your life—and Robert’s, not that his is worth anything, that piece of shit—depends on it.  If you don’t remember this, you may die, in spite of all your pain here.  Are you listening?”

       “Yes, sir.”

       I put the bottle of wine to her lips, and held it while she took a few swallows.  She was obviously discovering his medicinal value.

       “Now, you know I am a very nasty guy.  And there are others around there like me.  I have a friend who likes to rape girls, too.  We have an agreement.  If he gets arrested for rape, or even investigated, then I will kill the girl who turns him in.  And maybe her family.  Snuff them.  Murder them, just to be perfectly clear.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

       “Y-yes.  I, I think so.”

       “I don’t want there to be any doubt.  He will do the same for me.  If I ever get approached by the police and asked questions, you are dead.  He will make sure that I have an alibi, that I’m in a public place, and then you will be killed.  And, if necessary, your family too.  I’ve written down your name, your address, and Robert’s too.  Your school addresses, too.”

       I paused for dramatic effect, taking a swig of the wine, then putting it to her mouth.  “To tell you the truth, I’d like to snuff that little twit Robert on general principles, getting this drunk and setting you up for an animal like me.  But I’ll tell you, if I start getting visits from the cops, you’re dead, and I’ll make sure that little shithead is, too.  Understand me?”

She nodded, and when she saw me glaring at her, whispered, “Yes.  Yes, I do.”  I put the bottle to her mouth again.  This time she swallowed hard.   Not bad for a social drinker.

       “It’s not just your life that is at risk if I have to deal with the law here.  It’s yours family’s.  And Robert.  And maybe his family, too.  We haven’t had to do anything, not yet anyway.  You don’t want to be the first.  Understand?”

       Stephanie looked straight ahead.  Her face was kind of pale.  She nodded.

       “I’m going to take you two to Robert’s car, and you’ll be on your own.  You’ll have to come up with some story to cover what’s happened tonight with some kind of story or another. I was pretty rough on you, but I was careful not to leave any marks which can’t be covered with clothes or make-up.  You go home, have a good, long bath, and go to bed for the rest of the day. Your skin will heal up in a week or two, and I made sure I didn’t hit anything that would show outside of regular clothes. You’ll be okay, except that the hurt of being raped will never leave you.”

       “And you can thank Robert for that.”

       I chuckled, and took another pull of the wine. I was self-amused with the cheap logic of blaming Robert for her being the victim of my criminal act. But I figure it would really work:  she’d focus the blame and her hate on Robert and not so much on me, and probably not go the police.  And Robert would never want to be exposed as the drunken, negligent incompetent he is. Nor would he want people to know the details of the little blowjob I had Stephanie give him!

I put the bottle to her mouth, but she turned her head away.  Guess she had had enough.

       I pulled her to me, and gave her a nice, deep kiss, fondling her wounded breasts through the thin silk of her bodice.  Then I flipped up her dress, pushed her knees wide apart, and shoved my fuck-finger into her cunt.  I spent a few minutes savoring Stephanie’s body, “one last time,” I told myself.  Raping her had been an extraordinary experience: she was truly a once-in-a-lifetime beauty.  So I sat there, kissing her, playing with her perfect 34-B breasts and finger-fucking her, and the incredible happened:

       I started getting hard again! 

       I kissed her harder and wetter, pulling her bound body close to me, running my fingers, fragrant with the smell of her well-fucked pussy, through her hair.

       “Yeah.  Yeah, Stephanie.”  I was breathing hard, and gasped a bit, as I found myself under the influence of new-found passion for this adorable high school girl.

       “Yeah, yeah, Stephanie.  Damn, you’re a not bitch!  You don’t know, you just don’t know how…much…how hot…you get me.  Damn.  Damn!  You got me going again!”

       Could I fuck her one more time?  I’m a pretty virile guy, but I’ve been fucking this girl all night!  I locked my lips on her, pushing lovely Stephanie against the seatback, and shoved my hand against he warm, wet snatch.

       Oh, it felt so good, her wet, moist, sticky, downy-haired cunt, my palm and fingers pressing in on her!  I had her pinned into the chine of the seat cushions.  While my finger worked away on her, there was a little twinge in my prick.  Then another!  Stephanie lay passively on the van seat, gazing at the ceiling with a vacant look in her blue eyes.  I pushed my lips on hers, and after a moment she gave me a kind of a perfunctory return kiss.

There was something irristible about this ruined, fucked, and fucked-over girl beneath me.  My fuckpole stiffened a bit, pushing against my pants.

Damn!  I figured I’d go for it.  I pushed my pants and shorts down to my knees and lowered my weight on her.  When my prick felt the silk dress bunched up around her hips, I really got rock-hard.

       My cock likes the feel of silk.  Conditioned creature that it is, silk signals sex to it.

       I pushed the seat back as far as it would go, and shoved Stephanie flat down on it.  One leg dropped to the floor, under the steering wheel, and her left one was, at first against the seatback, then I put it up on top of the seatback, spreading her cunt good and white.  I still had her hands bound behind her back with the nylon ties, but she didn’t fuss over them or anything.

Her neck was at the edge of the van seat, with her head tilted back towards the opened door. She looked up at me with a quiet compliance.

Her tangled curls fell down, just touching the threshold.

       She knew what was about to happen.

She was resigned to it. 

I arranged her skirt—her silky (now quite smudged and wrinkled) box-pleated skirt—up onto her flat tummy.  In a flash—I felt delay might jeopardize my erection—I had my

       I shoved it right into her cunt.  Deep, hard, all the way.  I grabbed her by her shoulders, pulled back, and rammed the girl again.

       Hard and deep, and without any kind of preparation.  I just pushed into Stephanie’s cunt, and started fucking away.  I wasn’t quite as hard as I would have like to have been, but her pussy was stretched and wet now, and I slipped my meat right in.I leaned over her, looking down at my beautiful, but very sullied, victim.  I just fucked her and fucked her and fucked her. She felt better than ever: slightly tight, but warm, wet, and slippery, her girlflesh gripped my meat, and I slid it in and out, in and out, with nice, long, regular  strokes.

       Before long I had good pressure inside old Peter, and was as hard and stiff as ever!

       She wiggled, adjusting her wrists at the small of her back, and she seemed to get herself a bit more comfortable.  Her blonde hair was a mess of tangled curls on the stained car seat.  She looked up at me with this face of calm acceptance: no longer in pain or torment, her look was kind of benign, and, well, almost beatific.  Very hard to describe, but it’s as though she were silently saying, Go ahead…take me…I will not resist…Go ahead,…do it…I am yours, yours to do as you wish…yes, take me…TAKE ME! 

       I continued fucking her, driving into her with long, measured thrusts.  Subsequent fucks can sometimes be long, even hard work, but it was very gratifying how quickly I reached  an intensity of passion and lust.  Stephanie just lay back, and with her hands beneath her, her cunt had a slight downward angle that hit the end of my cock really good.

       Stephanie’s beauty still enchanted me,  battered as she was.  I cradled her head in my hands, thinking of the scores and scores of men who wished they were in my place: leaning over this hot-body teen and fucking her in any way I wanted to.  Her legs were a far cry from the creamy beauties I had admired on the street, when the wind pushed her pleated skirt around. One was fell passively to the van floor while the other was pushed up and hooked by her heel on the seatback.  Her thighs were covered with bruises and other marks.  I found that by leaning a shoulder against the seatback I had a very stable position, leaning over her, which freed up my hands.  I indulged myself—all the while, banging away at her—by touching and stroking and fondling and feeling her:  her hair, her face, the curve of her torso down to her hips, and, especially—especially—the feel of her firm, up-thrust B-cup tits through the thin silk of her bodice.

       Nice, so damned, fucking nice!

       The pressure in my scrotum peaked—my orgasm was getting imminent.  I lay down on lovely Stephanie, and snaked my arms around and underneath her, hugging her tightly, like a passionate lover.   My hips rose and fell atop her as I pounded away at her cunt, fucking her, fucking her, fucking her.  The pressure built and built, and I shot my load into my prey for the last time.

       It wasn’t a particularly powerful blast this time, but felt fantastic all the same.  I had been at her, and on her, all night, and that takes a toll on a guy, but the last of my sperm erupted in my ball sack and flowed into her in a long, warm gush.  Yeah, it wasn’t a blast so much as this intense flow, the last of my male juices to find their way into Stephanie’s warm, wet pussy.

       Her wonderful, thoroughly raped pussy.

       Keeping that one arm around the small of her back, and her neckcradled in the crook of my other arm I banged away at her, shoving myself in as deeply as I possibly could to maximize the sensation around the tip of my dick.  I pulled myself down on her hard, pressing her into the chine of the seatback, and forced another hard, wet open-mouthed kiss on her lips.  This was my last assault on lovely little Stephanie.  I wanted it to be intense, to really count, so that I would be engraved on her memories and sexual feelings forever.

       My dick was deep inside her, and getting soft, comfortable and contended, as I felt the last few emissions of sperm leave and enter her womb.  I don’t know if she felt them, but I sure did.  I pressed my belly hard against her, shoving my groin right at her little blonde cunt—tightly, possessively, and selfishly. 

       I was, at last, truly and completely finished with my lovely teenage rape-toy.

       It was real daylight now, quiet and early on a Sunday morning.  Outside, the trees were casting a bit of shadow.  Reluctantly, I pulled out of her, slid out the driver’s door, and pulled my pants up..  Stephanie lay still, a quiet look on her face. Nothing is as poetic to me as the vacant, stunned look on the face of a raped and ravaged virgin.  I groped her cunt for a moment, and then pulled her to a sitting position.  She was a bit like a rag doll, just letting me maneuver her to a sitting position.  Her dress was pushed all the way up, exposing her pussy, all wet and smeared with my cum, her cunt juices, and some small streaks of red.  I went around to the driver’s side, got in, and started the van up. 

       I put the wine bottle to her lips.  “Here, drink up.”  She did.  I made her take several more swigs.   Then, up went the garage door, and I emerged into the day with my cargo of supplies, tools, and traumatized teenagers.

       “Here, take some of this.  But go easy.  It’s plenty strong.”

       She took a swallow, and started coughing and gagging on it.  After she caught her breath, I made her take a few more swallows. 

       We weren’t far from Robert’s car.  I worked my way irregularly through side streets that would confuse them, making her take swallows of vodka every minute or two.  She wasn’t showing signs of intoxication, but I knew that she would be facing Sunday morning plenty drunk.  I wondered if she would try to go to church in this state!

       I splashed some vodka on her dress, so she would smell good and boozy.  A drunk girl lacks credibility. I drove on back roads to Webley Street, located the health clinic he had described—I wonder if they do abortions there?—and looked for Robert’s car.

       I quickly found it, a red Mustang.  “Stay put for a minute,” I told her.  I went around to the back, and climbed in, closing the van door behind me.  He was awake, and I put the wine to his lips.

       “Drink up, boy.  Take a good, hard swig.  The party isn’t over!”  He turned his head away—he’d learned his lesson, for sure—but I drove my knee into his stomach.  “I said drink!”  I ordered.

       And drink he did.  After a few sips, he took some good hits, and I poured the stuff down Robert’s throat, making sure that a lot of it spilled on his shirt, too.  After he caught his breath, I put the vodka to his mouth, and made him take several good swigs.

       I had the two of them pretty well loaded—Robert was practically back to the super-drunken state he was in during the night! His shirt tail was out.  I used it to wipe my fingerprints off the vodka bottle, which was rather ineffectual, considering that Stephanie’s cunt was filled with my sperm—but I did it all the same.  I cut the nylon ties off his ankles and wrists, and pulled Robert out of the van, guiding the staggering frat boy to the driver’s seat of his car.  I unlocked the door, and squeezed the jock into the sports coupe.  Grabbing his hair, I pulled his head back, and put the vodka to his lips one last time.

       “Drink deep, boy, drink deep.  Finish it off.  If it doesn’t go down your throat, I’m going to shove the whole bottle down your gullet!”  I don’t know if it was fear or astonishment, but his eyes were buggy, and he swallowed most of the last two or three inches of the clear alcohol.  Then I put the keys in the ignition, and started it up.

       Little Stephanie was next. She was  dazed. The shock of the evening—her first experience with sex, verbal humiliation, getting beaten, and now alcohol.  Rough sex and hard booze.  Quite a night for an innocent prep school girl!   I straightened her silk dress, and zipped up her back, then led the compliant young woman—she was no longer a girl, thanks to me!—to the right side of the car, and manipulated her in. 

       I couldn’t resist keeping up the humilation.  “You have quite a girlfriend here, Robert,” I said, as I freely fondled her braless tits through the thin shell of her silk dress.   “I doubt she’ll ever go out with you again, but I must say, I really did love fucking her!”  And with that, I planted one last, wet, mashing kiss on her beautiful but sad face, and shoved my hand right up underneath her dress, right in front of the bulging eyes of stupid drunken Robert.  I shoved three fingers hard and deep into her naked cunt.  I  French-kissed her while I vigorously finger-fucked the passive woman for maybe two minutes, and Robert—his hands were free—didn’t do a thing to stop me.

       Finally, I pulled back, and pulled her silky, pinky-beige pleated skirt back down to her knees.  I put my fingers, fragrant with the wet smell of Stephanie’s sex, right up to his face.  “Inhale boy,” I taunted.  “Smell what Stephanie’s like after she’s been fucked hard three or four times!  Don’t you wish you could have gotten some of her, huh?”  Then I slammed shut the door of the sports car.

       “I don’t think any of us will ever forget last night, kids.  Of course, Robert, your memory will be kind of sketchy, cause you were kind of in and out of consciousness. And lots of the action—especially the, uh, deflowering of your girlfriend, took place when you were tied up and passed out.  But Stephanie”-- I reached through the open window and pointed her chin towards me—“you remember what I said about my friend.  You’re going to have to be strong and handle this.  If you don’t, or can’t, well, I’ll make sure, damned sure, that your unhappiness is far from finished.  Understand?”

       She kind of nodded.  She was conscious of everything, but just barely so.  I leaned into the car window—damn, I just couldn’t help myself!—and kissed her one last time, and walked away.

       I had positioned the van so it was out of their line of sight, paying particular attention to keeping the license plate out of their view.  I got in, and drove away, rubbing my crotch as I drove, reliving in my thoughts the wonderful rape of this utterly lovely, classy, and so very, very virginal prep school princess.

       

       A few months went by, and I never did hear from the police.  The first few days, I was, to be honest, filled with a lot of anxiety.  As a few weeks passed, I felt better, and by the middle of the summer, I was confident that Stephanie had not, and would not, go to the police.  I Googled her name, and found that there were quite a few entries on her:  graduation, sports, attendance at some chi-chi parties and balls, and her acceptance into a swank girls’ college.  The same for Robert.

       I’ve followed her college career now, and have gathered some very nice images of her from the internet, society girl that she is. She still wears her hair long, and looks young, sweet, even virginal.  But she isn’t.  She is one well-fucked girl!

I look at my collected images of her, and think back to when I had her in the vacant warehouse, and fucked and abused and raped and humiliated and violated and raped her as much as I wanted!  I jerk off with her half slip, bra, and panties on my prick from time to time.  It would be nice to have a girlfriend as beautiful as she.  I’m not likely to, so it was great having her in the vicious and sadistic way I wanted to have her. 

       She’s still very beautiful.

       I know where she lives, goes to college, and socializes.

       I wonder about her.  How she’s doing, whether she got pregnant, had an abortion, things like that. 

       Most of all, I wonder about how her pussy would feel with my hard prick shoved way deep into it.  I think about that while I wrap her blue satin slip around it and pull.

       I just might pay beautiful little Stephanie a little visit and find out!