tagNonConsent/ReluctanceThe Late Shift

The Late Shift

byLynnGKS©

Dear Reader, I recently read an excellent essay on women's rape fantasies by superstition. It made me wonder if I could write a story about rape – I had never written one, but I decided to give it a try. Reading it makes my juices flow and I hope it does the same for superstition. All feedback is appreciated – positive and negative.

I have a great job with good money and it's play, not work. I work at a fitness center in a top of the line vacation resort that hosts big conventions. I'm 26 years old and my work keeps me in perfect shape – five foot six and 115 pounds with a taut belly and good legs. My last boyfriend described my figure as marvelous. He was probably just trying to get into my pants. And he did.

There are over thirty of us gals and guys running the weight room, the tred room, the bike room, and conducting group and single exercise programs. We open early – you'd be surprised at the hour some folks want to get on a bicycle - and we close late. We work eight hour shifts and the only really bad duty is rotating to the late shift where we take turns walking through the entire facility to be sure nobody fell asleep on a couch or left any valuables. Then you turn out the lights. Just an extra half hour, like once a month.

Tonight was my turn and it was routine right up to turning out the last light at the main entrance. I flipped the switch, headed for the exit in total darkness, and then it happened. A strong hand covered my mouth, another pinned my arms to my side, and two arms grabbed my legs and lifted me up. They were strong. Two guys at least. Carrying me someplace. Where? I couldn't tell until we got there.

They laid me down on a thick padded mat. The martial arts room! The guy let go of my mouth and I screamed as loud as I could. My scream echoed in total blackness. I looked around frantically and saw not even a pinpoint of light. I screamed again and heard two soft masculine chuckles. I was in the center of the empty, well insulated, sports complex. No one would hear my screams.

My tennis shoes and socks came off first. Then my sweater and shorts. Then panties and athletic bra. They stripped me down buck-naked, working together, in a matter of seconds. Then I felt hands on my breasts. Then a hoarse whisper.

"I told you they were all hers! No damn silicone in these beauties."

I couldn't recognize the voice. Then another whisper. A command!

"Spread your legs, baby!"

Again I could not recognize the voice – just a husky masculine voice. I kept my legs together until I felt a powerful hand grip my thigh just above the knee and squeeze so tight that the pain was unbearable. They were going to spread 'em for me if I didn't. I had no choice. I spread my legs for them, lifting my knees up with my feet on the floor.

"That's a good girl." They talked in hoarse unrecognizable whispers.

Two rough masculine hands began to stroke my inner thighs as two more played with my breasts. They were rough and strong but surprisingly gentle. Rubbing from time to time up on my belly and down my sides and around under my ass. They explored my entire body.

"Jesus! She's got a great body. I knew it was gonna feel good."

Then one guy stood up. I could hear him taking off his clothes. When he laid down beside me I felt a hairy chest against my arm and against my thigh I felt a hard cock.

The other guy was standing now and getting undressed. Then he too laid down on the other side of me and I felt a second hard cock against my body.

Four hands began to caress my body, fondle my breasts and stroke my inner thighs and occasionally my pussy. Then one hand examined my pussy, gently.

"She's shaved nice and clean. Damn! I wish I could see her. Naked pussy really turns me on."

I felt a mouth on my tit sucking my nipple erect.

"Suck on that other nipple. See how big and hard it gets. We got one a piece – you suck on yours and leave this one to me."

Hands kept stroking my belly and thighs, spending longer and longer periods of time on my pussy. Then the guy on my right put his hand on my pussy and gently worked a finger into me. He began to play with me and then I felt two, and then three fingers inside me.

"The bitch is getting wet. Listen!"

He moved his fingers rapidly in and out of me and I heard the wet squishy sound of my pussy. Bastards! I couldn't help it! They were gonna fuck me! I couldn't do a damn thing about it. And that damn pussy of mine was getting ready. Shit!

"I think she's about ready to fuck now."

I was laying there, helpless in total darkness. It would not be long now.

"Who gets her first?"

"Let's flip for her."

"Flip hell! You can't see a coin in this dark place."

"I'm holding my hand out over her belly. You slap it. If you hit my palm it's heads you win. If you slap the back of my hand it's tails and you lose."

Shit! These bastards were flipping a coin to see who got to fuck me first. All I could do was lay there and wait. I heard the slap of one hand on another. Then a laugh.

"You get sloppy seconds, buddy!"

They changed position and I felt a guy crawl between my legs and start whispering commands. They were strong. I didn't want to get hurt. There was nothing I could do. I did what he told me to.

"Spread your legs, baby. Spread 'em wide. Wider! That's it. Lift your knees up a little. A little more. That's better. You're gonna enjoy this once we get started. Now lift that pussy up for me."

His arms moved under my legs, lifting me up, to make my pussy easily available. I felt the head of his dick touch my pussy. I was so dripping wet that he entered me easily. He dropped his chest down to my tits – no hair. The hairy guy was gonna get sloppy seconds. Then he settled down to a regular rhythm, fucking me slowly. The hairy guy knelt down by my shoulder, his genitals hanging inches from my face. That male smell transported me instantly back in time almost ten years.

I was a cheerleader in high school. A bunch of us were walking by the boys' locker room one day after practice and a bin of dirty laundry was outside. On top of the heap were a dozen sweaty jock straps. One of the girls picked up a couple and held them up, giggling. Then one of the other girls moved close and smelled them. Silently, each of us did the same thing. That was the first time I smelled it - that pungent, sweet, musky smell of sweaty male genitals. That night I played with my pussy in bed, like a horny high school girl. There was that man-smell now, as the hairy guy played with my tits, his genitals swinging just inches from my face.

Why was I getting these thoughts? I was getting raped! I should be fighting them off. Then that bastard raised up on his hands and started pumping me harder. He was gonna come! He was deep inside of me. I was completely surprised when my pussy began to contract again and again and I trembled as the delightful sensations of an orgasm swept through my entire body. I felt like a different person transported to a different place as I clenched my teeth and groaned. What the hell happened?

"The bitch liked it. You should feel her pussy when she comes. Her pussy just grabbed my cock and squeezed it like a strong hand. Okay buddy, lets see if you're good enough to bring this bitch off. I got her nice and horny for you. Her pussy's so tight that sloppy seconds shouldn't be bad at all."

They changed places and a hairy body took his place between my legs. I lay there helpless, as he guided his cock into me, and started to fuck me. God! That cock was a lot thicker than the first guy! The next thing I felt were his hands on my ass, lifting me up so he could plunge it in deeper. He began that same slow rhythm that his buddy had used and I felt his hairy chest against my tits. Another pair of hands moved down from my breast to my hips.

"She's pumping her hips now. We got this bitch real horny. Can you feel her lift that pussy up to you?"

"Yeah, She really wants it now. See baby, I told you you'd have fun. No need to hold back. Just pump your ass as much as you want and enjoy the fuck. Could be the best fuck you've had in months."

I felt a deep sense of shame sweep over me. I was blushing crimson in the dark. They knew I'd had an orgasm and they knew I was working for a second one. I wasn't conscious of what I was doing, but somehow, I was pumping my ass in rhythm with the hairy guy's thrusts. It was like another me. Time seemed to stop as I lay there matching that hairy bastard thrust for thrust. My orgasm, when it came, was even more forceful and rewarding than my first.

As I lay there panting from my efforts, the guys changed places again, wordlessly, and before I knew it the first guy was in the saddle pumping away. It took him longer this time and I rested for a little while before my hips, no longer in my control, began to answer each of his thrusts. My orgasm was just as good, but it came before his and he fucked me for several minutes before I felt his warm semen pump into my pussy.

I rested again, knowing full well that the thick cock of the hairy guy would penetrate me next – and it did – but softly and gently and rhythmically. As before, I rested a bit, then, my hips joined his rhythm. Again I came several minutes before he did. He dismounted silently after he ejaculated. I rested, breathing heavily, and felt copious amounts of thick, slimy, semen drip out of my pussy, run down my ass, and trickle off on the mat. Suddenly I sat up. I was alone! No one was near!

I crawled around searching for my clothes. They were nearby and when I dressed I began to find my way back to the entrance in the dark. At the entrance I turned the lights on and looked around. No one was there. I turned off the lights, walked outside into the cool night air, and sat down on a nearby bench to think.

I'd been raped! By two guys. No question it was rape. The fact that I had four orgasms did not make it any less rape. I had struggled and screamed and had been overpowered. It was rape. My cell phone was in my pocket. Do I dial 911?

The first question I asked myself was why I hadn't dialed 911 already? Maybe it was because I knew the drill. A friend of mine had been raped at another job, a couple of years ago. I remembered.

The cops would seal off the building with yellow tape. They would take me to the hospital. I would be met by a female police officer. There would be a special doctor. The doctor would do a pelvic exam taking special samples and the officer would conduct a tape-recorded interview for over an hour, talking about what kind of sex I had had during the alleged rape and how many guys had fucked me in the past month and would they give DNA samples.

They would not be allowed to sample DNA from every male working in the building – civil rights, you know (theirs not mine). Everyone would be interviewed and for weeks afterward all my male friends would look at me, and I would know they were wondering how much fun it would be to fuck me. Then in the end nobody would be arrested.

Did I want to go through that? I thought about it carefully for a full half hour and then I decided I didn't. I wasn't hurt. I only had late duty once a month and I could get someone to stay with me when I did. I went home, took my birth control pill (I always took them at night) and added a sleeping pill and went to sleep.

The next few weeks were routine. I had two friends with me on my next late night shift. Nothing happened. I got no special looks from anybody. The usual guys behaved like the usual guys. Finally, I quit looking at guys and wondering if they were the ones that had raped me.

Then one day at lunch in the staff cafeteria I was sitting with two of my friends, JD and Willy, with whom I often had lunch. We taught some of the same exercise classes. We talked about things in general. Then somehow the subject of the late shift came up.

"We've got a good deal here and if that's the only bad assignment we really can't complain," said Willy.

"I've looked at other exercise jobs and you just can't beat this one," JD replied.

"You're right," I said, thinking about, but not adding, except when you get raped.

"Yeah, Willy is on tonight. I'll stay with him," said JD, "because we share an apartment so we drive back and forth together."

There was a long pause, and then JD said, in a familiar husky whisper, "Would you like to stay with us tonight, honey?"

A chill went up my spine. I looked down at his hairy arms, knowing he had a chest to match. It was far too late to report a rape and be credible. Anyway, I didn't want to now. Then I heard a strange, familiar voice.

"I'd love to."

Whose voice was that? It wasn't me! That chill went up my spine again as I thought – that must have been the other me!

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