Fantasy Inc.

The sign read, FANTASY INC. "Where our business is your pleasure", above the door. Nothing fancy, nothing that would grab your attention unless you were looking for it. And I was looking for it. I opened the door and went inside. The waiting room was well decorated in greens and yellows, tall plants guarded the corners, and smaller ones held watch over the table's magazines. There was the reception desk, and a door to the left of it.

I went over to the secretary who was hunched over some paperwork and introduced myself, "Laura DePalmer, I have an eight-thirty appointment?"

The pleasant looking secretary glanced at her open appointment book and fingered my name on the page with a well manicured nail. "Yes, Ms. DePalmer, if you would just have a seat, I'll let them know you are here," she said and looked deeply into my eyes. Too deeply. The 'undressing me with your eyes' kind of deep.

I said 'thank you', and walked to one of the yellow chairs. I could feel the secretary's eyes on my ass, parting it, licking it with her nimble tongue. I sat down and shot her a glance. She was still looking at me with those hungry eyes. She smiled and I returned it, then she went back to whatever paperwork she had been doing. I brushed the wrinkles out of my dress, keeping my idle hands busy.

While I waited I reflected on how I came to be here at FANTASY INC. "Where our business is your pleasure". I was at a luncheon with an associate of mine that I hadn't seen in awhile. Jennifer had just gotten back from an overseas business meeting in Rome, where she saw the transaction of several hundred thousand dollars in bonds to our friends in Italy, we made an exceptional amount of money on that particular deal. We were in the middle of a conversation about sex, how I wasn't satisfied anymore in the relationships I was getting in and out of. She conceded stating that she knew exactly what I was talking about, then magically produced a business card. She handed it to me and I read it out loud, "FANTASY INC. "Where our business is your pleasure".

"What's this all about?" I had said. She replied that she was having the same problem of non-satisfaction, and a colleague she used to work with at her last job, and whom she luncheoned with last week, had given her that card when she expressed her own sexual ingratification. "Did you go?" I asked.

"Of course!" she replied excitedly. "Was it good?" I asked.

"An experience you need to experience to fully appreciate," she replied. "What did you do?" I pressed on. "Well, ... the specifics are kept secret," she began, "That's part of the deal."

"Well, what did they do?" I pressed on, fully intrigued. "I can't tell that either, it's part of the written deal," she said.

"Written? Well what can you tell me?" I asked. "That they make your fantasies come true," she said in a dreamy tone, and her eyes had that spaced out, glazed look one gets when one is remembering a particularly great experience (one you need to experience to fully appreciate!) "Their services are exceptional, and they only cater to the upper crust," Jennifer said, coming out of her fugue and addressing my query more thoroughly. "So it's expensive then?" I asked. "Yes, but only moderately. Each fantasy has its own circumstances and price. You'll find that out when you go," she answered. "So I'm going?" I asked her. "You won't regret it," she retorted. And I called the number two days later.

"Ms. DePalmer?" A woman asked as she came out of the door next to the reception desk.

I got up, "Yes."

"Come with me please," she said, and I did. She was a stunning blonde, very thin, with her short crop of hair done up in a bun, her stiletto heels dug into the carpet with every step. The cut on the side of her dress exposed her stocking covered calf up to her thighs where no doubt a garter held them up. She stopped before a door and turned motioning me in. "Have a seat please," she said. I sat in a very nice chair, the room was just as stunning as the woman who occupied it. Each wall had I portrait, a photo of a woman in various poses of bondage. The woman sat behind her desk and the photo above her showed a woman up close with a ball-gag in her mouth and a look of pleasure or pain or both on her face. The woman caught my eyes and held them for a moment.

"Ms. DePalmer, I'm Rebecca Staos. You're here about a fantasy, is that correct?" she asked, her penetrating blue eyes penetrated me, I could practically feel them gazing at my exposed vagina.

"Yes," I replied, her eyes still staring at me fixedly.

"And who referred you?" she asked, still penetrating me with those eyes.

"Jennifer Kruegel," I replied.

"Ah, yes, Ms. Kruegel," she leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers. "Well Ms. DePalmer, let me tell you a little about our company. We began in 1995, mainly servicing friends and relatives, and letting them hand out our business cards to their friends and relatives, who could afford it of course. We cater only to the upper crust, mainly because our services our explicit and require the utmost scrutiny and privacy, and to insure that scrutiny and privacy a heavy fee is required. Now our services as you may know, cater to the living out of fantasies. Making the unreal, real," she now produced a thick booklet, "This questionnaire, to be filled out before you leave, will help us help you live out your fantasy. I apologize for the length, their are 1000 questions total; some true and false, multiple choice, fill-in-the-blank, and short paragraph answer. Some of the questions will be direct, some indirect; some discreet, some indiscreet; some plain, and some obscene. Please fill it out the best you can and try not to leave any blank, the more information you provide the better," she now produced a pen, "I'll leave you alone here, and check up on you periodically. When you are done, please close the booklet and remain seated until I return. Any questions?"

"How long is this going to take?" I asked overwhelmed now by this ... this ... this pop quiz!

"Only about an hour or two. I hope you didn't have any pressing appointments." This last was more of a statement than a question, but I answered it anyway.

"No, I didn't," I said meekly.

"Good, I should be back in about an hour, then every ten to fifteen minutes thereafter until you are done, okay?" she said, those eyes still penetrating me.

"Okay," I said. When she left and the door closed behind her, I finally felt empty of her penetrating gaze. I opened the booklet and picked up the pen and began.

An hour and a half later I put the pen down, closed the booklet, and relaxed in the chair, mentally exhausted. As if on cue, Rebecca Staos came in, her face beaming.

"All done?" She asked.

"Yes," I said, taking a deep breath.

"Okay, we'll process this information and get you started," Rebecca took the booklet off the desk and turned to leave. She looked back and saw that I was still sitting, "You're all done Ms. DePalmer."

"Oh! Oh, I didn't know," I got up and straightened out my dress. I walked to the door she held open for me, "When will I know?" I asked.

"We'll notify you when the processing is complete," she said with a smile and her penetrating gaze.

I walked behind her, gazing at the curves of her voluptuous ass, the way it wiggled beneath the fabric it seemed she was wearing no underwear. I was hypnotized and turned on at the same time. She led me through the door giving me a farewell, and the secretary did the same all the while undressing me with her eyes yet again.

At work I was unable to concentrate on anything, and took the rest of day off after a lonely luncheon. I drew myself a hot bath and tried to relax, but to no avail. I got the call from FANTASY INC. at five.

"Hello, Ms. DePalmer?" the voice on the other end asked.

"Yes," I said.

"We're sorry, but your application has been rejected. We're sorry for any inconvience this may have caused you."

"But why?" I asked, shocked and perturbed. But the line went dead.

Depressed, when evening appraoched I took a sedative and fell fast asleep.

I opened my sleepy eyes and saw through the window that it was still night, I turned my head to look at the clock. I was just able to make out the time of three thirty-two a.m. before the strangers hand was on the back of my neck and pressing my face into the pillow.

I was in shock for the first few moments and just lay there. Strong, rough hands pulled the sheet off of my naked body, I tried to turn my head and the hand cinched tighter around my neck and forced my head harder into the pillow.

"Stay," was all he said. I could feel his legs pinning my legs apart. I heard his hand go to his pants and undo the snap and zipper. He managed to work his pants around his waist with little difficulty and I felt his huge cock sliding on my naked ass.

"Are you from FANT-" he strangled the words out of my mouth. His grip tightened until I couldn't breath. I could feel his fingernails digging into my neck. I could feel the warmth of my flesh beginning to bruise.

"Quiet," he said in the same toneless voice, then loosened the grip on my throat only to the point so I could breath.

I could hear him spit into his hand, then he brought it down to my pussy and rubbed it all over. The thought of being raped here and now, sent a surge of adrenaline through me and began bucking and thrashing my limbs. He used his free hand to push on my back with such force that the air was pushed out of my lungs, then he tightened the grip on my neck again until I couldn't breath, digging his nails into the soft flesh, and drawing blood.

"Stay," he said again in the monotone, then loosened the grip on my throat so I could breath. I inhaled sharply into my burning lungs.

He spit on his rough hand again and rubbed it all over my pussy, then again, working the saliva into my pussy with two rough fingers, and over my clit. He wrapped his arm beneath my waist and pulled my hips up dragging my head off the pillow. He released my waist and spit on his hand one last time and rubbed it all over his cock. Thoroughly lubricated he guided his cock at my pussy and pushed inside.

His cock was so fat that he stretched me open painfully, tearing me up inside. I tried to scream but he cinched his hand around my throat again, choking it off. He began thrusting his fat cock in and out of me with no restraint. I bit the sheet, tasting the cloth on my tongue. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes and began falling down my cheeks in rivulets, wetting the sheet beneath my face, which was still pressed firmly into the bed.

My pussy began adjusting to his fat cock, and I was lubricating him now with my own juices. The tears miraculously stopped flowing, and sickened though I was by being raped, I was also turned on by the tabooness of it, the wild abandon of it. In the dark of the room I snaked a hand beneath me and found my engorged clit and began rubbing it. I could feel my orgasm building, and I was enjoying this rape, which sickened me, and I hated myself for it, but I could not help it, it was a primal, animal lust. He pulled my hand away from my clit, and I scratched it painfully with my fingernail.

"No," he said in the monotone, and I could've died. He stopped thrusting into my stretched pussy and spit into his free hand again. This time he rubbed his spit over my asshole. I tried to cry out, but he anticipated this and clamped down on my throat choking it off before it could begin. He spit again on his hand and rubbed over and into my asshole. I wasn't a virgin back there, but it was just the principle of the matter. Being violated by this stranger in one hole was enough, but in the asshole as well. I began to struggle again, his grip around my throat tightened until I couldn't breath. He spit on his hand a third time and rubbed it inside my asshole. Stars danced before my eyes and even in the dark of night I could still feel myself blacking out. He released his grip on my neck and I swam back to consciousness. He spit into his hand for the last time and rubbed it over his fat cock.

He pressed the fat glans at my sphincter and pushed. He slid in painfully again, ripping my ass wide. I tried thrashing about, but he grabbed first one hand and then the other and held them painfully against my back. I tried crying out again, but he clamped down on my neck choking it off as quickly as he did the last one. He began pushing in and out of my bowels with no restraint. I bit the sheets again in pain, and tears flowed down my cheeks again. I began grunting with each deep thrust inside me. He lay down on top of me pushing my hips to the bed, then while still laying on top of me, began pushing in and out of my ass. His cock was so fat it stretched me, and filled me.

The vulnerability of my position began turning me on, and my grunts became moans, and the pain became pleasure, and I hated it. And I hated him. He pressed upon me to the point that my breasts were being mashed beneath me, the nipples hard and sensitive against the sheets. I relaxed my asshole and let him slide in easier, faster, smoother. After awhile it began to feel good. The anal sex was ... delicious! And I loved it. I loved feeling him push inside me so deep.

He pulled all the way out and left me empty and void. My stretched asshole stayed open. Then I felt the tip of his cock at my ass again and he thrust inside me to the hilt, making me scream. Then he pulled all the way out again, placed his cock at my ass again, and thrust inside me long and deep, making me scream again. He did this several more times, each time I screamed, in pain, and, I hate to tell, but pleasure as well. Then he pulled out and was doing something in the dark, but I couldn't see. But I was sure I would find out shortly.

He then grabbed me about the waist and lifted me up, my ass still sore. My arms were still pressed painfully behind my back, and my shoulders hurt. Then he pushed his cock back inside me, and miraculously it was bigger and fatter than before, and he ripped and stretched me even further, and I screamed out in pain. He grabbed my throat then choking off the scream and buried my face in the bed. Only the first few inches were inside, and the hurt so bad, I was sure I was bleeding. He then began to push the rest of it inside, tearing and ripping me. Tears poured from my eyes. I tried to cry outloud, but it was choked off from his hand around my neck.

Once he was all the way inside I felt something hard and cold against my asshole and I unconsciouly tightened up. He used this opportunity to pull out stretching me further. I likened it to being fisted, even though I had never tried it before. He pushed back in, and I felt that same hard coldness, and tightened up, and was ripped back open as he withdrew. After a few more thrusts I came the painful conclusion that he had placed a cockring at the base of his cock, letting the blood swell in his already enormous cock, making it bigger. It was a weapon, and he was attacking me with it.

After I was stretched and loosened up, he began thrusting harder, and faster. Pushing in and out visciously. Our skin was slapping together. I found to my dismay that an orgasm was building in my loins. He pushed in, then out, then in, then out. My orgasm rose higher. He pushed in, then out, then in, then out. My own horrible orgasm at being raped ripped through me as he had ripped through me, and I was bucking and thrashing in the mad throes of it. He kept on pushing, no, pounding away at my insides, until I heard him grunt and groan, and felt his own orgasm splash my insides, the hot cum felt so soothing on the sore passage. He pulled out and his cum began to leak out of me, dripping all over the sheets, it just kept coming and coming. He let go of my arms and waist and I collapsed on the bed.

Then he was gone, and I was alone. I began to cry.

The phone rang shortly after.

"Hello," I greeted, still in pain.

"Hello Ms. DePalmer, this is Rebecca Staos. How was your fantasy?" She said it like it was the most common thing in the world.

"W-what?" Was the only thing I could stammer out. My fantasy, why would that be my fantasy, it was horrible!

(But you still enjoyed it, are still enjoying it as a matter of fact. Aren't you basking in the afterglow of the rape at this very moment)

"Your fantasy, Ms. DePalmer, was it satisfactory," She said in the same casual tone.

"It-," I paused

(was all set up, beginning to end, it was all planned out)

"-was very satisfactory," I said, not believing it, but the truth was staring me right in the face.

"Great!" She exclaimed, then added, "John left your bill on your kitchen table, along with several complimentary scarves to cover your neck for the next few weeks, and one of our cards so you can refer a friend or relative. Are there any questions?"

This was all swimming through my post-orgasmic brain, I didn't know what to think, or how to feel. "No, none at all," and as an after thought, "Thank you."

"Your welcome, Ms. DePalmer. Our business is your pleasure."