Fright Night

Fright Night

Disclaimer: This story was specially written for a female friend who, amongst her other submissive and masochistic tendencies, also has a "rape fantasy," and in no way reflects the attitude of the writer.

It had been a long hard day she thought, putting away her materials in the wooden locker. Working on a project, determined to get it finished, she had worked late into the evening and must have been one of the last students on the premises. The college building had that, 'empty,' sound, quieter than normal, no other voices to be heard. She put on her coat, and waved goodnight to one of the technicians, busy at the far end of the corridor, and then out, into the cold and darkness. It was really cold, and she pulled up the hood of her coat as she walked up the almost empty car park to the college entrance. Huge and ancient trees waved and rustled as the wind rushed through the bare branches.

It was probably a combination of the hood masking her hearing and the noise of the wind in the trees that made her unaware of his approach, but suddenly, terrifyingly, she was picked up, and swung off her feet, a hand clamped over her mouth. She saw the dark shape of the van, side door open, just before she was thrown roughly into the back. Her attacker jumped in on top of her, knocking the breath out of her, his weight holding her down, while his hand clamped over her mouth again. She felt something hard and cold against her the side of her neck.

'One fuckin' squeak, and I'll cut ya,' he promised, 'you'll bleed to death in three minutes, understand?' She nodded, terrified at the suddenness and violence of the attack and knife held against her throat. 'Open your mouth,' he said. She shook her head in refusal. One-two, the quick slaps across her face shocked and dazed her. 'Open your fuckin' mouth, or you won't be so pretty in the morning.' She opened her mouth, and he roughly gagged her, then slipped a black hood over her head. Forced onto her stomach she felt her hands being tied, then her ankles. Numb with fear, she lay there, helpless, as he slammed the side door, got into the front and drove away. She started crying.

It seemed to her that he drove for ages, but eventually the van stopped, and it sounded like he got out, the engine still running. She heard metal doors opening, and he got back in the van, the sound changed, and she realised they were in a garage, or warehouse of some kind. The engine was switched off, he got out, and she heard the doors being closed. The side door slid back, and he untied her feet, pulling her roughly from the back of the van, and marched her across a concrete floor, stopping to unlock another door, and pushed her in.

'Don't try to escape, 'cause then I really will have to hurt ya, I'll be back in a minute.' The door closed behind him, she heard the key turn in the lock, and she was left alone with her own fears and thoughts. She had calmed down a bit since the first terrifying moments of her abduction, and now she had a few precious moments to try and take stock of her situation. Try as she might, she could think of no way out of the situation. All the information she had read said to humour the attacker, be as submissive as possible and not to annoy him. Okay, she could be submissive if it was going to save her life.

'Fuck.' she thought, her mind racing, 'this was, no, be honest, is, one of my greatest fantasies, but it's not really that sexy now that it's happening for real.' If it was just sex, she thought she could handle it, but he might cut her, or even kill her. It was the uncertainty that was so frightening. He came back into the room, and removed the hood, the glare of the bright light making her blink. He was wearing a black ski mask to conceal his face, but it was the knife tucked into his belt that drew her fascinated and frightened gaze. The room was empty apart from a couple of chairs and a desk, with nothing to help identify her surroundings.

'I'm taking off the gag,' he informed her, 'don't bother screaming, you'll only annoy me. This room is very well soundproofed, and it's inside a building, so no chance of you being heard, otherwise I wouldn't take off the gag - now behave yourself and we'll get along just fine.'

'Please don't hurt me,' she begged as soon as the gag was off, 'why are you doing this to me?'

'I'm doing it because I want to, and I'm not going to hurt you, well... not much,' and he laughed. She began to cry again, but he ignored her, and untied her hands, stripped her coat off roughly and threw it in a corner. Under her coat she wore a white blouse and black trousers. As she stood in the centre of the room, he walked round her making comments about her body.

It was so humiliating, but he stopped in front of her and ran his hands over her breasts. She tried to pull away; a light, but stinging slap on the face, made her stand still. He took his time, massaging and squeezing her, locating her nipples through the double layer of materials, and giving them a lot of attention until they were hard and erect. 'That's better, now just do what you're told, and I won't have to hurt you again.' She shuddered a little under his touch.

'Jeeziz,' she thought, 'this is so like my fantasy,' and despite her fear, and dangerous predicament, she felt a thrill of excitement start deep in her stomach. He began to unbutton her blouse, one button, and then another, savouring the sight of her cleavage and lacy white bra as her blouse was opened further and further. She had good tits, she knew that, big and firm, and he showed his appreciation, complimenting her on the size and shape as he opened the blouse up to expose her, and finally pulled the blouse out of her waistband.

He slipped the blouse over her shoulders, and threw it in the corner with her coat. Once again he felt her breasts, but this time only the thin lace of the bra covered her nipples. She tried to fight it, but her own body was betraying her, her nipples felt just too fucking good as he squeezed them. She shuddered uncontrollably as he pinched them firmly just the way she loved it.

'Are you cold?' he asked.

'N-no, just scared,' she lied with a tremor in her voice. 'Fuck, fuck, what kind of pathetic bitch am I, getting turned on by my own rapist?' she thought.

'Fuckin' hell, what a fuckin' hot body you've got. If your cunt is half as hot as your tits, I'm going to enjoy this.' Again she felt a thrill of excitement mixed with the fear. She'd never felt anything quite like this before. She tried to analyse her reactions to what was happening, but she couldn't seem to think quite straight. Her nipples were hard and unbelievably sensitive, and something strange and incredible was going on between her legs. Again he walked round her making lewd and obscene comments about her breasts, arse and mouth. Normally she would have thought this was just plain fucking insulting, but tonight every comment hit some psychological nerve. She was amazed to find she was getting even more excited by his comments.

He unfastened her belt and slipped her trousers down to reveal the matching lacy white panties. She stepped out of them without resistance, and he threw them in the corner with her other clothes.

'Keep your hands behind your back, or I'll tie them again,' he warned, and she submissively did as she was told. He began to massage her breasts again, and she liked it even more.

'These feel so good, your nipples are quite hard. Shall we take it off and have a better look?' She shook her head, still some defiance despite her crumbling resistance. He asked her again, and again she shook her head. 'Well... it doesn't matter a fuck to me what you want you stuck up art college bitch,' he said, and taking the knife from his belt held the point against her throat. Frightened again now she began to cry. He lowered the knife, tracing it down from her throat to her shoulders and cut first one shoulder strap, then the next, then placed the knifepoint in the hollow of her throat.

'What I'd really like to hear is you begging me to cut off your bra, and play with your tits. Yeah! That would be nice, so let's hear it bitch,' he demanded.

'Fuck off,' she said in token defiance. There was a momentary silence.

'Oh! Dear, that's so disappointing,' he said, grabbing a large handful of her hair and jerking her head back violently, exposing her throat even more. The needle sharp point of the knife pushed harder, making an indent in her skin, and along with the searing pain in her scalp robbed her of her defiance. Now she was really frightened.

'Say it whore, and make me believe it,' he hissed at her, looking into her eyes. She composed herself, breathing deeply.

'I'd love it if you cut my bra off, and played with my tits,' she said quickly. She felt humiliated, but the strange new feelings in her breasts and cunt flared again as she said it.

'I said convince me! That didn't sound at all convincing to me,' he mocked.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I'd really love it if you'd cut off my bra and play with my nipples. I really, really want you to, please do it, please, right now,' and she realised with a shock that it was true. Her nipples were as hard as could be and she watched with a thrill of fear and unexpected excitement as the razor sharp knife was inserted between the cups of her bra and began to cut upwards, slicing through the flimsy material easily. As the last few thread of elasticated material parted, the cups flew apart and the lacy white ruin of her bra fell to the floor.

'Oh my God,' he almost whispered, 'your tits are incredible.' She felt a twinge of something, pride, which confused her further. Why was she feeling proud because this cunt who was going to rape her, or even worse, liked her tits? She couldn't understand this, but to add her confusion she felt her wetness begin to seep from her pussy.

She was definitely aroused now; shame, self-disgust, and excitement mingled in a heady cocktail of emotions as he touched her breasts sending waves of pleasure to her erogenous zones. Her legs trembled weakly, her cunt lips were swollen, and her pussy had never, ever, felt so wet.

'Legs apart,' he commanded. She did as she was ordered; all thoughts of resistance gone, as the knife cut through the sides of her panties. She found that strangely exciting, maybe it was because they were of no further use or protection - she was too confused to work it out. They fell to the floor, and as he picked up the tiny scrap of lace to throw it in the corner he noticed that they were wet, and slippery where her pussy had been.

'What's this?' he said, and quickly slipped his hand between her legs. 'You're fuckin' wet, you dirty little bitch, you're fuckin' enjoying it,' and he began to laugh at her. Totally humiliated, she lashed out, punching and slapping at him. He tolerated it for a moment or two, and then let her have a quick, but powerful punch to the abdomen. She curled up, winded again. He quickly caught her hands and pulling them behind, tied them - now she was helpless again, but naked too. She started to scream, and was quickly gagged, the hood pulled over her head only added to her sense of panic.

'You crazy bitch,' he said breathlessly, pushing her over to the desk until she was backed up against the edge, virtually left sitting on the desk. He pulled her legs apart, she tried to resist, but they were too weak. He pinched her nipples hard, to punish her, little knowing how much she liked it. She moaned with pleasure; all pretence of resistance gone forever as she finally admitted to herself that she wanted this so badly.

He rammed his cock into her without any preamble, her sex so incredibly wet that it offered no barrier to his entry. He fucked her hard, fast and dirty. She simply couldn't understand herself, and how much she wanted it, but stopped caring the instant his cock slipped into her, coming almost immediately. One orgasm built upon another, and she came again as he fucked her on the desk. He pulled of the hood, and the gag, pushing his hard cock into her mouth. Instead of biting him, she sucked and licked, desperate for his come. He pulled out of her mouth and sprayed his come over her face and tits, and she came spontaneously as he fed it back into her mouth to let her eagerly swallow the last of it.

She realised her true nature now. She was a dirty bitch and needed to be taken hard, used, degraded, like the slut she was.

'Fuck me again,' she demanded. 'What kind of fucking rapist are you? Do it again, fucking harder,' she pleaded. He just laughed at her again, which infuriated her.

Whoa, you're some dirty little whore,' he laughed. She even liked his insults; they excited her even more. 'I need a little time to recover, but I'll fuck you again soon. Don't worry; you'll get plenty of cock before the night is through.'

She lay on the desktop, hands tied, legs open, covered in his spunk. He got a towel and cleaned it off her face and tits, then started sucking her nipples and gently rubbing her cunt and clitoris. She came alive at once, responding by thrusting her pussy onto his fingers, moaning excitedly all the while. He stretched her a little by pushing three fingers into her pussy - and she found the stretching sensation extremely pleasurable.

'More,' she whispered. Whether she meant more of the same, or more stretching he wasn't sure, but he finally got all four fingers into her pussy. 'Oooooh, that's sore, but it feels good too,' she moaned breathlessly, completely at the mercy of her own pussy. He reached down to a drawer in the desk, managing to continue the manipulation of her pussy as he did so. As he removed his hand from her hole, she protested, 'Nooo, don't stop now, don't stop, please.'

'Don't worry bitch, I'm just putting some KY jelly on my hand and your cunt. Since you're such a hot arsed little whore I'm going to fist you. With you being so fuckin' wet, and the KY, it should be easy, but what the fuck, I don't care, it's your cunt and I'm having fun.' He spread a thick layer of KY lubricant over his hand, then over and inside her pussy lips. She was frightened now - his whole hand up her, it would hurt like fuck.

'No, no, don't do that - what you were doing was fine, it was sore but good, I can't take a whole hand, not a whole fucking hand. Please don't,' she pleaded. Her pleas only excited him more as he began to slowly insert his fingers again, working them slowly in and out of her slippery hole. Frightened or not he thought, she'd opened her legs as far apart as she could get them, and she was working her arse up and down beautifully, meeting his thrusts with equal force and groaning with pleasure. She wanted it although she couldn't admit it even to herself. He tucked his thumb into his palm, and began to push a little further each time. Her beautiful cunt was stretching and opening, the natural juices and KY combining to ease his hand inside.

'Oooh don't, you're stretching me too much, it's sore. He stopped for a few seconds to let the pleasure return and squeezed even more KY on his hand. Something like panic gripped her. She knew he wasn't going to stop for her pleas, it was going to happen, it excited her, but she was very scared too.

'Please don't, I'll tear, you're hurting me, don't,' but he paid no notice. Gradually he worked his hand deeper and deeper, accompanied by her moans of pleasure and occasional yelps of pain. His hand pushed a little harder and suddenly his knuckles, the widest part of his hand, were inside her pussy lips. One last gentle push and her distended and stretched pussy lips closed around his wrist. He realised he was hard again. He began to gently move his fist inside her cunt; it felt warm and so very wet and slippery in there.

She arched up off the desk with every, 'in,' stroke, and began to moan, groan and shout loudly with pleasure. 'Oh Fuck. You bastard, you're ruining my pussy. Oooooo, it's so good, but it's fucking sore, I don't know what.... Oh, I can't...don't fucking stop now!! Such a dirty cunt... dirty little cunt.... The pain almost forgotten, pleasure tore through her in its place, and she came as never before, again and again and again until it seemed like one continuous climax. She even felt herself squirt some fluid, bringing more new and strange sensations to her pussy. She decided later that she must have passed out for a moment or two, for suddenly she realised his hand was gone. Her cunt felt strangely empty, used and most certainly abused, her legs trembling with the aftermath of her exertions.

She felt herself manhandled again, as he turned her over on her stomach, and entered her without ceremony from behind, fucking her long and hard. He pinched her nipples, pulled her hair really hard, and slapped her lovely arse even harder as he fucked her. She could hardly believe how much she loved it all, and surprised herself even more by her capacity to orgasm again after all she had been through. She felt him shoot his spunk into her cunt, and then pull out gushing it into the crack of her arse. It felt warm and sticky.

He left her lying face down on the desktop as he dressed. He helped her into her trousers, on legs so weak and trembling that she could hardly stand. He dressed her, minus bra and pants, untied her hands, and helped her into her coat. He hooded her once again and tied her hands. Then into the van, lying quietly and exhausted in the back. He dropped her off, hands untied, but still with the hood over her head in a quiet industrial area near where she lived. By the time she got the hood off, he was gone. She made her way slowly home, finding it difficult to walk, her pussy sore, battered and abused. She was made more aware of her bruised and swollen condition with every step. She had a bath, and went to bed. It never occurred to her to phone the police. She slept for twelve hours straight, and masturbated when she woke.

She didn't go out all weekend, but wrote down every detail of what had happened in an attempt to understand what happened to her. She masturbated often as she wrote, and knew instinctively that her life had changed forever. From a young woman who had the occasional sexual dalliance, but never really cared for it too much, she had turned into something altogether more sexual. Her pussy seemed to throb and pulse, almost with a life of its own, demanding attention. She tried to resist, but it was futile, and she'd end up stroking herself, her head filled with fantasies and recent memories. She'd waken in the middle of the night, dreaming about it, and have to masturbate.

On the third or fourth day after she was taken, she tried to see how often she could make herself come. She lost track and fell asleep, exhausted. She woke hours later, her pusy so swollen and red she could hardly walk, but it felt good too, and she fucked herself with her newly acquired vibrator again. She's never owned one before, but she'd managed to go out to the Ann Summers shop and buy one. By the time she got home she was desperate, and slipped it in and out of her pussy for hours. The sensations were sublime.

Finally, she placed an advert in the local paper, which read. 'Would the gentleman who met me leaving art college on Thursday, the 10^th, around 9pm, please meet me again. I wish to continue where we left off.'

Disappointingly there was no reply. Weeks went past, and her life almost returned to, 'normal,' but now she didn't socialise with her fellow students quite so much. She spent most of her time, alone in her flat, naked, looking at her cunt in the mirror as she wanked herself off, thinking of her cruel rapist lover. She made up new fantasies and realised she had become a truly liberated sexual being. Night after night she fucked herself to sleep, sometimes tying her ankles together and gagging herself to catch a flavour of, 'that,' night, her pussy well used and happy.