Alternative History 101

I scrolled through the messages I had gotten back on Craigslist one more time. I thought I had settled on the man I planned to meet and had almost replied back when the urge hit me to look through everything one last time. He seemed safe, but something was niggling in the back of my mind and I couldn't place why. So, venturing through all the replies that had seemed promising, I pulled up what had been my backup.

"I am very interested in meeting young women like yourself who want to be used. I'm glad you are exploring yourself and want to find what you were truly born for. Msg me back and I'll teach you exactly what you are."

It was a simple message, but I was both attracted and nervous about the tone presented within. I had role-played online the past couple of years with multiple men who viewed women as objects to use, even hurt, and I had found in my limited experience they seemed to fall into two broad categories. Men who wanted ladies on the street and skanks in the sheet or those who felt, clearly deep down, that women were cumrags to be used. While the latter could be fun to roleplay with, they scared me as they did not see me as human. Both of my "finalists" gave a bit of that vibe, but I didn't want anyone who felt too hardcore like that. And now I was having second thoughts about my initial pick. Listening to my gut, I deleted my message and instead sent a message to the backup.

Thus started a few weeks of cautious back and forth, usually one message a day, of "negotiation". First and foremost was proving who I was. I did so, sending him a picture of my face along with my email and he returned the same. I made sure to delete our messages afterward because the last thing I needed was anyone finding out about my planned activities. I'd only had sex once before and it had been a disappointing affair that left me empty and unsatisfied. My stress level had been so bad that I had been having more panic attacks and just felt depressed all the time. The only time I could escape myself was online, and they weren't enough anymore. I needed it for real. Maybe then I wouldn't come home and just cry as more expectations were heaped upon me without end.

Eventually, he pushed me hard about my body and I sent him a picture and short video of me in my panties and bra. He then told me to write whore on my stomach to prove it was real and not just any old picture. I did, feeling my stomach twist in guilt and excitement. He seemed to enjoy that and wanted me to send more, but I was paranoid that any pics could get out. So I told him no and the reason why and surprisingly, he relented. I had prepared to be badgered but he quickly let it go. He did bring up our meeting and I told him I'd get back to him. I did the next day, asking him to meet me at a nearby Wal-Mart. He instead suggested a McDonalds a bit further away, but I said yes.

Excited, I masturbated myself to dirty fantasies of what would come, which would ultimately prove beyond unrealistic. I picked out my clothes for the meet, a nice short dress, low cut, no bra, but a thong and nice flats. I then constructed a cover story for where I would be and started to put everything in motion. Three days later, I did.

I found myself that Saturday, alone, hiking along the roadside down to that corner of town to meet him. Thankfully it wasn't too hot as I was mortified at the idea of being soaked in sweat when I arrived. I hit the parking lot and as I headed into the building, I heard someone yell out behind me. I turned and recognized him, driving a nice crossover. He flashed an attractive smile and waved me over. I went to him and he asked if I wanted to chat first, just in the van. I hesitated but felt safe enough in the parking lot so I agreed and got in.

I was happy with his appearance, lean but muscular, dark from working heavily in the sun. We chatted a bit, and beyond kissing my cheek, undressing me with his eyes, and touching my knee, he wasn't being very forward. I'd almost expected something else considering his tone online. Instead, he was very pleasant and we chatted with the windows down for easily thirty minutes in his car. We talked about life, education, the world, sex of course, and how I got to be where I was. Then, after a bit, he leaned in to kiss me, gently, but firmly. It was a kiss I happily returned. We didn't break the kiss for nearly a minute and then parted, almost panting. He stroked my cheek and told me he really liked me and he thought it would be so dirty for me to give him a blowjob in the car. I thought about it nervously, caught off guard by the sudden suggestion. I did like him already and it wasn't like my mouth was virginal. Indeed, I had already given multiple blowjobs and found that I very much enjoyed the act.

He put the crossover into drive and unzipped and I leaned over, lapping at his cock. It had a strong, musky scent and tasted of salty sweat, but it wasn't unpleasant. He slowly drove around as my head bobbed in his lap, feeling like the dirty little slut for doing this. This was some of the excitement I was missing and wanted. After a few minutes, I felt him begin to tense up. I prepared to swallow his cum when I felt a sharp pain in my butt cheek. I tried to pull up but he shoved my head down and the world grew dark as cum filled my throat.

The next thing I felt was sandpaper scraping my back. At least it felt that way. My body was moving, not of my own accord, and I felt like a great weight was on me. And my crotch hurt, bad. I started to focus and opened my eyes and nothing made sense. I was on my back, on concrete, in what looked like a half-finished house. A stranger, a large black man, was on top of me pounding away. I started to scream and he covered my mouth and started pounding harder, ramming against my cervix, making me sob. He held me down effortlessly until he grunted, ramming deeply in me as I screamed into his hand as he filled me with his seed. He pulled out and let me go, jerking me up and wiping his cock with my hair.

Dazed and confused as I was, I noticed things. We weren't alone. There were several men around me. I had a puddle of cum between my legs and my entire body ached. I doubted the black man had been the first. I couldn't see the sun but I knew some time had passed. I wanted to scream but only cried when another man, tanned and white, came over and shoved me down. He spat in my face, lifted my legs, and slammed into me as the ground dug into my back. He basically folded me in half and fucked me against the floor hard, while men took photographs, videos, and called me names. He stiffened and dumped his load in me, slapping me hard as he got up.

I begged for someone to help me as a large fat man flipped me over. He spread my ass, rubbed something cold on it, and shoved his cock in me. My screams were barely human then and I heard a piece of construction equipment turned on to drown out my voice. I didn't know it then, but the only reason he was able to shove in so easily was that he had been the third man to rape my ass. All I knew was that my guts felt like they were being torn apart as he mashed my head to the ground, bit my neck so hard I started bleeding, and rutted in my ass until he came.

It went on like that, man after man, just holding me down and fucking me. No, using me. I was nothing more than a cum dumpster and no one acted as if they cared for me at all. Soon I was bleeding from my back, my breasts, my knees, my neck, as I was tossed about, bit, and clawed at. Some point after my next anal rape I came, and they couldn't stop laughing and taunting me. I even laughed at myself then, although hysterically. Something broke inside me, and when the Craigslist guy walked over to me, I cried and laughed.

He laughed too as he leaned down, whispering into my ear. "I told you I would show you what you are. You're nothing but rapemeat," he told me as he started choking me. He pulled me up onto him, making me straddle him as he choked me, fucking into me as he strangled me, his eyes barely an inch from mine.

"I told them all what you wanted, what you needed. I showed them your pictures you stupid little whore. We've been laughing at you for weeks, getting ready for this. You're gonna be fucked out and ruined after today. You look like ground hamburger and you've cum like a cheap cunt because that is what you are. You know it now deep down. I'm sure you always suspected, but now you will never doubt it. You're a warm set of holes, nothing more."

As he told me this, black wavered around the edges of my vision. His grip tightened as my breathing and pulse slowed, as he bucked into me. I was pushed onto his chest and someone filled my ass, crushing me between the two men. I tried to reach out for someone to help me, but I couldn't lift my arms anymore. I spasmed without control as the world turned black.

I woke later as hot piss streamed down from nearly a dozen men onto my battered body. Some just aimed from my chest, but several seemed to aim for my crotch or face and hair. I choked on the acrid taste, the strong sour smell, as I was drenched. It burned all of my small cuts. Someone jerked my head up and finished in my mouth, holding my nose until I was forced to choke it down. I coughed weakly as my face was shoved in another man's ass and made to lick his filthy crack.

Starting to get bored, they got creative, fucking me with hammers whose rubber grips dug into my gut as they rammed it in my ass. My ass got beat with their belts and other objects, whipping me until I bled. My final indignation was two men holding my arms as they lifted me up to a 2'x4' sawhorse. Another man held my hips as the man from the ad took a very small but terrifying nail and hammered my nipple to the wood. I screamed uselessly around the construction equipment as he took my other nipple and did the same. Then, one by one, most of the men fucked me again. I was in complete shock by then and barely noticed when they had finished. I was still numbly humping against cocks that weren't there, my nipples swollen and bleeding. He pulled out the nails with pliers and I dropped to the floor, broken.

"So, what are you?" he asked me.

I couldn't even look up as I didn't have the strength. I was beyond broken.

"A set of warm holes," I said, unable to cry anymore.

He smiled at that, dragged me to his crossover, and drove me to his home. There he washed and scrubbed me, cleaning the outside of me. I knew what he was doing though, removing evidence. Deep inside nothing could scour me and even though he dropped me off at my home that night, I never really left that half-finished house.

Instead, I sit here, pretending to get drunk and piss off angry men, and I think, and I remember, and I feel once again.