Mock Rape, Inc.

Claire returned to her table to find the check laying in its usual spot. She picked it up to look at it. There was a white business card concealed beneath the check. She turned it over.

Mock Rape, inc.
Dark Fantasies Fulfilled

There was a phone number and logo which pictured a pair of feminine hands bound at the wrists. Claire stared at the card for a few moments in shock and puzzlement, then laid it face down as she had found it. She flagged down the waitress.

“Janet, did you leave this here?”

“No, what is it?”

Claire turned the card over.

“Oh, my god! Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know. It was under the check when I picked it up. I thought you might have put it there.”

“No, I’ve never seen it before. It’s sort of scary. You want me to call the manager?”

“No, don’t. I’m not sure I want anyone else to see it. You didn’t see who put it there?”

“I wasn’t watching. This is lunch hour and it’s pretty busy. I can’t imagine who would have left it.”

“Have you ever seen one before?”

“Never. You want me to throw it away for you?”

“I think I’d better keep it. I want to see if I can find out where it came from. Would you watch to see if any more turn up?”

“Sure, I’ll keep an eye out. I’ll let you know if I see anything.”

“Thanks.” Claire paid her tab and left. As she went out the door, she couldn’t help the feeling that she was being watched. She scanned the room but no one was paying any attention to her and she didn’t see any unfamiliar faces. She decided she was being paranoid and returned to work.

At work, she found it difficult to concentrate. On two occasions she took the card out of her purse and looked at it, then hurriedly put it back for fear someone else might notice. As the afternoon wore on, Claire’s agitation increased. Finally, it was time to leave. Claire looked around as she left the building, but didn’t see anything unusual.

Claire warmed up some leftovers when she got home and tried to sort out her feelings as she ate. She was annoyed at the impact the card had on her equanimity. She was in an emotional uproar although nothing had actually happened. If she looked at it logically, nothing was likely to happen. The import of the card was that the next move was hers.

Nonetheless, she was disturbed. How had the card come to her? Was it random, or had she been selected to receive it? Was someone watching her? If she was a specific rather than a random target, why had she been selected? She felt insulted, frightened, and intrigued all at the same time. What made ‘them’ (whoever ‘they’ were) think she was interested? .

Was she interested? That was perhaps the most disturbing question. She supposed that most women had some sort of rape fantasy. Of course, no one wanted to be raped, but the idea of a man taking control of her, having his way with her, did have it’s erotic aspects. There was a reason for the popularity of the bodice ripper genre. She had even read a few herself. Nevertheless, Claire found these sorts of feelings embarrassing, although she had to admit to herself that suppressing them only increased her turmoil. Maybe she should call the number on the card. She could at least try to get some of her questions answered. But it was scary. Receiving such a card was not normal. It could be dangerous. And even scarier was the possibility that she might surrender herself to the sorts of feelings that the card inspired. She decided to ignore it. After a day or two she would forget the card and things would be normal again.

Claire’s next day at work was even more miserable than the previous one. She had brought her lunch and ate at her desk. She was afraid to go out-well, not really afraid, she told herself, just appropriately cautious. The day dragged on. She tried to bury herself in her work, but all she could think about was the little white card. She felt her coworkers were becoming aware of her agitation. She got almost nothing done. Finally, she made an excuse and left a couple of hours early.

At home, Claire made some tea. This was driving her crazy. She was angry that her life had been taken over like this. It made her even angrier that she allowed it to happen. It was just a stupid white business card. It wasn’t doing anything to her. She was doing it to herself.

“Stop it!”, Claire shouted. Getting angry seemed to help. She knew she had to call the number. The shot of adrenalin provided the necessary resolve. It was the only way to take back control of her life. She didn’t have to subscribe to or purchase whatever it was. What she needed was a confrontation with these people. She would tell these people what she thought of them. She dialed the phone.

“Hello, Ms. Dunbar. I’m glad to hear from you. My name is Malcolm.”

“You know my name! Who are you? What do you want from me?” Malcolm had shattered Claire’s aplomb before she had even spoken a word. She wanted to hang up, but that would only make things worse. She would have to talk to Malcolm.

“Relax, it’s only caller ID. My phone tells me that I’m being called by ‘Dunbar, C.’. You must be Claire.”

“You do know who I am. Oh, god, I’m being stalked.”

“Hardly. After all, you called me. So, what can I do for you?”

“I got your card. Where did it come from? Why did I get it? Was it random, or was I supposed to get it?”

“The card was intended for you. Targeted marketing is essential in our business. Soliciting the wrong person can be embarrassing for all concerned.”

“But how...who...why me?”

“As I said before, you called. Someone who was uninterested would simply have thrown the card away. She would never have called. You called.”

“But I just called to find out what this is all about. I didn’t call to hire you to do whatever it is you do.”

“So wouldn’t you like to know about what it is we do? As long as you’re on the phone, you might as well find out what it is you’re so frightened of.”

“I’m not frightened. I just want to know what’s going on.”

“As much as I hate to contradict a customer...”

“I’m not a customer.”

“Well, potential customer. Regardless, right now you don’t sound like a woman who’s cool, calm, and collected.”

“Who can be cool and calm when they’re being harassed? You don’t...”

“Claire...Claire, relax. Take a deep breath. Again. Once more. Good. I hate to keep repeating myself, but you called me.”

“But you started it. You gave me that card.”

“You could have thrown it away. You didn’t have to call. Now, wouldn’t you like to hear what we have to offer?”

“Alright. Tell me. Get it over with.”

“As you wish. We provide a service. We will fulfill your darkest fantasies. All you have to do is fill out a form, outlining your fantasies in as much or as little detail as you like. We will make them come true with no real danger to yourself. You will survive the experience unharmed and free of any diseases you do not already have. Once you receive the form, just fill it out and send it in with your payment and we’ll do the rest.”

“I’m still not sure exactly what you do.”

“You tell us. You’re the customer. Shall I send you a form?”

“I don’t think so. This doesn’t sound like my sort of thing.”

“If you say so, but it won’t hurt to look over the form. There’s no obligation and nothing will happen unless you send it in with payment.”

“So what do you charge for this ‘service’.”

“The cost is $1500 with a $500 rebate if you complete the fantasy. You can cancel at any time, even during your experience”

“I don’t understand. Why a rebate?”

“The rebate functions as coercion. You will be given a code word. If you say the word at any time, the fantasy is over in that instant. Many of our customers are turned on by the element of coercion. Since that’s lost if they can stop any time they want, we have provided an incentive not to use the word. If you use the word, you lose your rebate. Use of the word will cost you $500.”

“Either way, that’s a lot of money.”

“And what price would you put on fantasy? Think of it as a vacation. Surely you’d spend $1000 on a vacation.”

“Yeah, but a vacation would be a week or more, not an hour or two.”

“Typically, our fantasies take 24 to 48 hours. Consider it a weekend vacation. You couldn’t get an individually tailored vacation for that amount of money anywhere.”

“What if I didn’t like it?”

“Just say the word and it stops. Shall I send you the forms?”

“OK. Send me the forms. You don’t do anything unless I send them in-that’s for sure isn’t it?”

“That’s for sure. This is a commercial enterprise. If you don’t pay, you don’t get a fantasy.”

“I’ll look at the forms, but there’s no way I’m doing this.”

“That’s quite alright. It’s your decision. Thank you for calling, Claire. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Claire felt better. She still had mixed emotions about the whole thing, but at least she had some idea what it was all about and felt reasonably sure nothing would happen unless she sent the forms back. She slept more soundly that night than she had since the card had first appeared.

The next day she came home to find an envelope in the mail with no return address. She opened it to find a cover letter and several pages of forms. She read the letter.

Dear Claire:

Thank you for considering our services. MRI hopes to provide you with a fantasy that you will find fulfilling. In order to design an experience that is suited to your desires, please fill out the attached forms. Put an ‘X’ next to the items you wish to exclude and an ‘O’ next to the items you would like included. All other items will be optional at our discretion. We suggest you mark as few items as possible, since the essence of this experience is the surrender of yourself to your guide. Most of our customers find they enjoy the experience more when they don’t know what is going to happen.

After you finish, return it in the enclosed envelope along with $1,500. Personal checks are accepted, but your fantasy will not take place until the check has cleared.

Your code word is ‘consanguinity’. This is not a word you are likely to use in normal conversation, so there will be no doubt as to your intent should you use it. Remember that there is a $500 charge for use of your word. If you complete your fantasy without using the word, you will receive a rebate of $500.

After receipt of your payment and paperwork, we will begin work on designing your fantasy. Your fantasy will take place anywhere from 2 days to 2 months after payment clears. You will not be informed when it will take place. It will simply happen to you. The timing may or may not be convenient, so you may want to make preparations to be gone for a day or two without notice to anyone. We trust you will not disclose the true nature of your absence.

Thank you for considering MRI. We look forward to serving you.

Malcolm

Claire looked over the forms They listed a wide variety of sexual activities. She started filling them out. She had no intention of mailing the forms, but there was a certain vicarious thrill attached to the process of filling them in. She listed her name and put her code word in the appropriate blank.

She browsed the lists. Oral, anal, and vaginal penetration. She put an ‘X’ next to anal. She almost marked out oral. She’d never done a blow job. She was mildly repulsed by the idea, but left it in anyway. She also marked out ‘gang bang’ and ‘lesbian experience’. Her fantasies were usually more private, one-on-one. She went on down the list. Vibrators, dildos, autoeroticism. Leave it up to them. Bondage, spanking. Spanking? Well, maybe. She could always stop if it was too much. Water sports, piss drinking. Both out. She didn’t put any O’s on the sheet. It would be more fun if left up to them. Piercing, branding, tattoos. No, no, and no. This part was getting scary. Servitude, obedience training. Another maybe. She could always stop it. She finished the form, then put it in the return envelope, then secreted the envelope in her jewelry box. She didn’t want it laying around where someone might see it.

Claire was nearly back to normal the next day at work. She still felt some anxiety, but she was no longer troubled by the white card. It’s place had been taken by the envelope. She kept thinking about it. It didn’t upset her the way the card had, but neither could she get it out of her mind.

At home that evening, she took the forms out again and looked at them. The thought occurred to her that she had not given Malcolm her address. She was not in the phone book. Nevertheless, the envelope had arrived, correctly addressed. These people had known where she lived. Malcolm had also avoided the question of how and why she had been chosen to receive the card, but had made it clear that there was nothing random about her possession of it. And how had the card been delivered? Claire began to feel that her original fears had been justified. What had drawn their attention to her?

Claire threw the forms in the trash, then pulled them out again. In spite of the apprehension she felt, she was drawn by what the forms represented. She thought about calling Malcolm again, but decided not to. The result of her last attempt to give Malcolm and his people a piece of her mind was the envelope in her hand. What would Malcolm talk her into if she called him again?

Tension built up in Claire over the next several days. She continued taking her lunch to work so she wouldn’t have to go out. She was suspicious of any strangers who looked at her. She could find no real sign of anyone watching her, but she felt as if she was being stalked. The envelope was always in her thoughts. It frightened her, but it excited her, too.

Increasingly, the envelope preyed on her mind. One evening several days later, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She wrote a check and dropped the envelope in the mail. She still had a couple of days to stop the check, she told herself. What was odd was the sense of relief she felt. The problem was now out of her hands. At the same time, she was appalled. She had just paid someone $1000 to rape her. Claire was pretty sure this was not normal behavior. Why did she feel relief after mailing the envelope?

Claire went to bed and slept fitfully. The next day she was as troubled as ever. Finally, late in the day, she called the bank to stop the check, but it had already cleared. Claire couldn’t believe it. They shouldn’t even have received it yet. How could she have been such an idiot? Her money was gone and they were going to do god only knew what to her. She could always use the code word, but that would cost her $500 and she was not altogether convinced they would honor it.

When she got home, she located the white card and called Malcolm’s number. It was disconnected. Now she was really frightened. She considered going to the police, but no crime had actually been committed. Besides, Malcolm had her check and the forms she’d filled out. She could imagine how embarrassing it would be if they should be produced.

A nervous month went by and Claire had nearly convinced herself that it had all been a con and nothing was going to happen. As she left work one evening, there was a van she’d never seen before parked next to her car. She was suspicious and walked up behind the van, peering through the windows. It was dark in the van, but it appeared to be empty. She walked to her car and fumbled with the key. It didn’t seem to want to go in the door lock. Claire looked closely and realized something was jammed in the lock, preventing her key from going in. About the time this realization dawned, the van door was flung open. A canvas bag was pulled over her head and tied about her neck. Claire was pulled into the van and her wrists were tied behind her and her ankles bound. Then she was laid in one of the seats and fastened down with seatbelts. The van pulled out of the parking garage into traffic.

Claire considered her predicament. She was bound and uncomfortable, but not unbearably so. For a moment she panicked, unable to remember her code word. Consanguinity, that was it, consanguinity. Claire clung to the word. It was her life buoy.

The van continued its journey. Claire was trying to decide if there were one or two abductors. She had never actually felt more than one pair of hands on her at any one time, but her ankles had been bound so rapidly after her wrists, she suspected there were either two men or one very fast one. There were no sounds in the van. No conversation, no radio, nothing to give her a sense of time.

After what she guessed was more than thirty minutes and less than two hours, the van stopped. She heard only one front door open, then the side door opened. Claire’s ankles were untied and she was pulled from the van and set on her feet. The bag was removed from her head and a blindfold quickly tied into place.

Claire had gotten only a brief look at her surroundings before the blindfold had cut off her sight again. She was in a garage. It was large enough for two or three vehicles in addition to the van. She had been unable to see her abductor.

A choke chain collar was looped around her neck. She resisted the first tug, but a sharp snap of the leash closed the chain tightly about her neck. Claire gurgled and stumbled forward. She was led through a door which was closed with a heavy thud, then locked. The echo of her heels clicking on the hard floor told her she was in a corridor. She was led down the corridor and through another equally heavy door. The floor here was thinly carpeted. After a few paces, the leash went slack and Claire stopped. She stood waiting for whatever was next. Bound and blindfolded, there was nothing else to do. Claire’s emotions were conflicted. She didn’t feel particularly aroused. Apprehension and curiosity predominated. After what she guessed was several minutes nothing had happened.

“Hello,” she called. “Is anyone ...”

“Silence. You have not been given permission to speak.”

Claire jumped. The voice was almost in her ear. She hadn’t realized anyone was standing so near. The voice was a clear baritone with just the hint of an accent she couldn’t identify.

The chain choker was removed and something buckled in its place around her neck. From its feel, Claire guessed it was leather. She felt it being gently tugged and heard the snick of a small lock. Her hands were untied. She stood rubbing her wrists for a moment, still blindfolded. Then she reached up to feel the collar she was wearing, but a pair of hands seized her wrists and pulled then back down to her sides.

“I was only trying...Ow!” She had been slapped sharply across the cheek.

“You were told not to speak. Any further disobedience will be met with more severe punishment.”

Claire was frightened now. This was not quite what she had expected. So far her adventure had proven to be anything but a turn-on. She thought about using the word, but didn’t. It would cost her $500 to use it, but there was a greater fear. As long as she held the word in reserve, she could use it as a security blanket. If she used it and it was ignored, she was left without anything to which to cling. As long as she didn’t use it, she could pretend there was an escape.

“Undress.”

The command shocked her back to consciousness of her surroundings. She hesitated and felt the sting of a switch across the back of her calves.

“Oww, that hurt.”

“This one will hurt even more.”

“Ahh! Stop.”

“Do as you were ordered.”

Claire began unbuttoning her blouse. She slipped it off and held it out tentatively.

“Drop it, then continue.”

Claire let the blouse slip from her fingers, then began on her bra. She dropped it on the floor on top of the blouse. She stepped out of her shoes and unfastened her skirt. When she had removed everything except her panties, she hesitated.

“Oww!” The switch struck the back of her thighs.