Broken Seals Ch. 06

Rick sat down next to me and held his phone screen to my face. It was a video: dark, blurry, but the light on the phone camera illuminated enough. I didn't recognize the figure, because who the fuck knows what their bare lower back looks like? But in a few seconds I could see it was me, and someone fucking me from behind. The camera moved around and my while my hair hid most of my face and what I was doing, I was unmistakably sucking the dick of the guy who was fucking me when I woke up. "You were too good not to share, babygirl. Plus I owed my boy one, so I let him get his." For another thirty seconds, the camera was held off to the side, training on my tits that were jiggling and bouncing to the rhythm of the fucking. Finally I heard Rick's voice: "This pussy's too fuckin good. So fuckin good!" The video ended with him slapping my ass and making an extremely loud crack. Not once or twice, but at least a dozen hard ones, making a huge red mark on my right cheek before it finally just cut off. So that's why my ass was hurting so much; it was almost certainly bruised. "Yeah, it was just us two. And you. You were really into it." Tears stung my eyes, as I couldn't believe what had happened, or how he could possibly think I was into anything that had been done.

"I really need to go," and I made a move to stand up and start searching for anything to wear in order to get out of the house.

"Hold it!" He barked with a threat I immediately understood. "Look babygirl, just stay for one more round, then we'll get you your stuff and you can go."

"Please..."

"Look I got your contacts, mom, dad, friends, and everyone's gonna get a copy of this if you don't play nice with me." I weighed my options, and in the moment there was nothing to do except to try and bargain for a little more, because this was clearly happening whether I wanted it or not. I started to sob, "Aw come on! Don't bullshit me, you loved it! Just stay and have some fun with me."

"Please can I just...see my stuff, I don't know where I am, I don't know how I'm going to get home..." Rick made a sound like he was annoyed, and stood up and left the room. He came back some seconds later with purse and all my clothes, neatly folded, in his arms. He set them on the chair.

"See? It's all good. Just relax, babygirl."

"If I do this, you have to delete that video."

"Sure, anything you want." He walked over and lay on the bed. I winced when his skin touched mine; he grabbed my arm and pulled toward him so I'd be on my back. "Now you gotta get me hard again, babygirl." He positioned us so that we were basically spooning and he was the big one, holding one of my tits, sucking on my neck and grinding his crotch on my ass. I just lay there, trying not to cry. I wanted this to be over as soon as possible, and figured if I cried or made him angry in any way, it would just take longer and in the condition I was in, he could keep me for a long while.

By that time in my life, I'd heard and read a few stories of survivors of trauma, and I couldn't understand the concept of disassociation. Maybe no one really can unless it's literally all you can do to keep from falling apart in a situation, or doing something suicidal. I thought about running away. I thought about knocking him out with something, or stabbing his eye with my thumb, taking his phone and running away. Those possibilities were dispelled when he started touching me; he was very strong, had rough hands and hard muscles that I could feel on his arms, chest, and legs.

As he groped me from behind, one of his legs around both mine squeezed me to him and he talked dirty, extremely dirty to me as he did it. "You love being a whore, don't you, with these massive tits. Fuck I love these titties!" Lots of things like that, repeating directly into my ear while he molested my breasts. I said nothing, stared at the wall in front of me. I remember feeling ironically relieved in the moment when I felt his penis starting to respond, getting hard against my ass. "Oh yeah, let me feel that ass," and then he reached down to spank the exposed cheek and I yelped. Much later I would learn that a guy like this is called a "spanko sadist," because that's what he liked as much as if not more than sex, just bruising the fleshy bits of girls. My crying out seemed to spur him on, and he did it a few more times, treating me like a toy that yipped when you pulled a string. "Turn around."

He turned me on my back, got between my legs, and mounted me in missionary. When he plunged his penis in me, I distinctly remembered that it was considerably bigger than the guy before, but also couldn't understand how wet I was for a few seconds until I realized that both of them had already inseminated me, maybe multiple times. "Don't need lube now, do you, bitch?" He chuckled at his own joke as he started to fuck me, hard and with a fast rhythm. He rested on his elbows on either side of me so that he could really work on my tits. I kept my eyes on the wall, and he enjoyed making me wince as he pinched and slapped my breasts that felt very bruised already.

I started at the dimly-lit white ceiling, literally only thinking about what could make this over faster. I put my hands on his back, and started to moan in the rhythm to his fucking. He kept pumping for what felt like a lone while, changing where his arms and and hands were, sweating. It felt like being in the most disgusting sauna, his exerted body radiating wet heat onto me while his swollen cock plunged in and out of me. It occurred to me to say something, but I gave it another minute until I really couldn't stand it anymore: "How about from behind?"

"Ohhhhh, babygirl wants to take it doggy! Yeah, get up, let's do that."

We readjusted and I got into position: hands and knees. He got behind me and parted my legs to adjust so that he'd be at the perfect height. "Get down on me, babygirl." And I got down to let him do it. He took a few seconds to pat my clit with his dick, "Oh shit, you don't need lube, do you?"

In doggy, I was able to think more about how I could get out, but no viable options came to mind, and he pumped at me, knowing he basically bought and paid for me, "Yeah, fuckin wet bitch, ungh..." Maybe I could knock him out with the lamp. Maybe I could just start screaming as I ran out naked and someone or the police would come help me and set this all right, but it that sounded more crazy the more I thought about it. "Fucking bitch!"

It hurt, and I tried not to be there for it except in a minimalist way: I just wanted to help him have an orgasm as clinically as possible and then my body...my lady, specifically, started to betray me. The moans I was "making" to help him along turned to real beats, and...my lady started responding.

"Don't" I said.

"You fucking bitch!" he replied punctuating it with a hard smack on my bruised ass.

Seriously not wanting any more abuse, I let him do his thing, but I hurt, and thought only about how I could get out of the situation.

Still...maybe because of the size and shape of his penis, my lady started to respond...positively.

"Don't," I panted, "stop...please..."

He knew better than that. With some girls, this was just the thing: some of us are extremely ashamed that this pushes a button inside of us and makes us cum despite everything we think and believe. For years, I hated myself for this. He must've known that this...thing, this feeling existed in some women...a lot of women, and so he kept going, knowing that if I had an orgasm, there's no way I could blame him. He only tightened his grip on my ass, and slammed it onto his cock harder. I couldn't do anything to stop it, and my lady popped. I cried out...

Again, disassociation: I tried so hard *not* to be there for it, and yet it happened. Rick fucked me, bareback against my will, to an orgasm. I was so confused; I screamed and yelled, he yelled too: "Yeahhhhh!" He thought he was doing me a great favor while I was *actually* being raped by him. And he kept going. Through the worst, fastest orgasm...maybe ten seconds passed by and I started to again think of how this can just finish up. Thankfully my mouth clammed up, but Rick still needed some time:

"Fucking bitch...knew you wanted this dick...fuck you..." He hit me, HARD on my ass, and worse than any other guy before. The expression: "went to town on her" I felt in my bones when I learned it later, because that's what it felt like. I started to cry silent tears (because I didn't want him to react badly to vocalized ones) into the pillow where my head was on.

My lady hurt so badly, and I literally thought: Just make it through this, and we'll be okay. I'm sorry.

It started to really hurt, and for all I wanted to say, could have said, I also needed this to be done, and mercifully he came, signified by several big grunts, putting another giant load in me that I felt because of the bruises and tears, despite the lubrication, and all the while hearing his dirty talk: "Yeah, yeah, bitch, you love it. You love it."

He withdrew that massive thing from me and I was so mortified; I literally didn't know what to say or do, but just...lie forward and clutch a pillow. He was panting and grunting, as if after a good workout. I didn't feel any of whatever new cum he shot in me, only the stretching and tearing, really only wanting to go home.

I let him have a minute, then after weighing words in my head said "Okay, I really need to get back now."

He scoffed, but got off the bed. "Yeah, do whatcha gotta do. Here are your clothes, I mean...whatever..." and he left the room.

I felt wounded (and I was) like someone from a battlefield laid low, but still able to crawl to safety. I put my underwear on, my bra...not matching, and modest because I did not think I was having sex or trying to impress anyone that day...and then my shirt and jeans.

The rapists (don't know the other guy's name to this day) were on their couch, playing video games when I walked out. The place overall looked awful, no real decor except a couch, a lamp, TV stand and a TV. Rick didn't say anything to me, but the other guy looked up at me, joint in hand, smiled and nodded, like it was all good. "I need to get back to my car." I said.

"You're two blocks and around the corner," said Rick. "Want me to drive you?"

Absolutely hell no, I wouldn't take a goddamn ride from you..."I'll figure it out. Bye."

"Bye."

I used my phone, and it thankfully had enough battery to show me the way. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon and I was relieved to be out and not have those guys chasing me. As I walked, I was so grateful for being able to walk straight, but also, I knew what had happened, and I started to think ahead. My phone registered a missed call from my mom and two texts. I knew I looked rough, but needed to go home to straighten myself out.

The police? A laughable suggestion in 2009: I knew what women had gone through, and I knew my chances. Furthermore, I knew no details of Rick except his name (probably fake) and that his car was black (possibly blue or dark green?). I felt guilt about it though, because later, reflecting on it, I was sure this guy had done it to so many women. I couldn't have been the first and I'd bet any money I wasn't the last. I never knew what he did with the video, maybe some sense of decency in him prevailed and he actually deleted it, even though I had no way of knowing. Maybe it's out there on the internet, one of the millions of grainy, nearly anonymous videos on porn platforms where anyone can upload anything, but no one seems to have ever found it and by extension, me. He also never tried to contact me again, which was initially puzzling, until I learned that predators like that only really crave the initial "seduction" and since there was no way I was falling for any of that again, there was no point in trying it. Not only did he not reach out, but he seemed to block me on the dating platform where we met and communicated.

My parents didn't notice because I had been out to parties and other events until sunrise the next day, so there was no need to explain my utterly disheveled look and why I stayed in bed until past noon the next day. It was probably only the Rohypnol that let me sleep, because every day for almost a year thereafter I couldn't sleep without taking something. When I woke up that afternoon I had a panicked realization and rushed to the local pharmacy to pick up a morning-after pill.

So that's how I got to double-digits in my cock count: Rick and the other rapist were numbers nine and ten, though I can't be sure which is which. I hesitated to include them, but this is my sexual diary and it felt completely disingenuous to exclude this event, or gloss over it as if it was forgettable (it absolutely was not). So, so many women suffer a sexual assault in their lifetime, and in most (if not all) cases, it casts a long shadow on their sexual expression, which I'll cover more in the next chapter. Given how terribly it effects survivors I actually feel pretty lucky that eventually, I not only was able to take charge of my sexuality again, but even indulge in the eroticization of this kind of rape (though in purely consensual form). And that's why I hope some of you can beat off to this story, as traumatic as it was.