Insta-Taken

The following story has themes of misogyny, non-consent sex, humiliation, abuse and other dark themes. If such content offends you, please do not read. This is an erotic FICTION story not meant as any sort of political or societal protest. This is purely for entertainment and never meant to happen in reality.

I stare down at the name on the app. Strange. As an insta-shopper, I recognize the address as I've delivered there before, but it isn't the normal name. The guy that lives at that address is named Billy, but the name on the app says Benny. It's also a different account that what normally orders for that address. Strange.

Shrugging I walk about the grocery store, gathering up the items and scanning them with my cell. That's another thing that's odd about this order, it's not the normal stuff he gets. Billy's orders are normally huge as he puts in an order every two weeks. This time it is just 4 things.

I'm Veronica and been an insta-shopper for close to a year now. It's not the best job ever, but it useful. I can do it whenever I want, so I don't have a set schedule. The pay is crap but I get really good tips which is super nice. A lot of the people are true assholes that treat you as if you beneath them, but there are some really chill people as well which makes up for the assholes.

I find the 4 items that Benny wants and check out. Normally I would do multiple orders at once since I'm here, but the account paid for "Super Fast, Super Fastest" which means it needs to be done within 30 minutes. Not that I mind as I'll be paid 4 times as much as normal for it.

As I get to my car, I do a quick check at my reflection. I know it is silly and stupid, but most people I deliver to have security systems or video doorbells, so I always want to make sure I look presentable in them. And I do. Not looking great or anything, but my jeans and blue top look perfectly fine with my long hair laying as it should.

I turn to my side to check out myself a bit more. Only thing about this top is it tends to show too much of my breasts. I like my tops to be a bit baggy to hide my bust size, but this top is a bit tighter. It shows that I have D breasts. I wore it as it seemed to be the only thing that went with my jeans.

Speaking of clients, did you know I've been propositioned by a few of them when I deliver for them? You know, handing off their bags when they say they would give a $100 tip if I flashed them, or $200 for me to pleasure them with my hand and etc. Totally gross. And never have I or will I do anything like that. It's gross and sick, but in a way it's a nice compliment.

I get into my car, give the app my update and drive off. Billy, or Benny, whatever the name is, is only 5 minutes away. Once when I was fulfilling his order, he said he knows it is silly to use our service when he could literally walk to the store, but revealed he has a health condition which makes it hard for him. That he had to go every Friday to get his treatments.

Today is Friday. Huh. Billy should be getting his treatment today. His orders are normally on Sundays too. Very strange. Then again, maybe the day of his treatment changed. Or maybe he really needs these 4 things for some reason.

A few more minutes pass and I'm in his neighborhood. Maybe it is the oddness of his order, but the day looks rather creepy. The sky is very cloudy and dark as it is clear it's going to rain. It gives everything a shadow effect, where it looks dark and horror-movie like. It is the sort that makes you want to go home and not come out until the sun can be seen again.

I pull up to the house where I see that Billy's car, which is always in the driveway, isn't there. It occurs to me that I don't know if anyone lives with Billy. I always assumed he lived alone, but he could be married and have kids for all I know. No clue how many people live here. And it's not like there's a limit of how many people can use the service from one house. Maybe this is for a roommate

As I will be in and out, I park in the empty driveway. Normally I park in the street so I can drive off easier, but since no one is using the driveway, I figure no one will mind. It's not as if I'm in a hurry. Don't have to be anywhere or do anything for the rest of the day.

I tap at the app to let it know I've arrived. Then I grab the single bag of groceries and step out. Since I'm paranoid, I turn off the car and lock the doors. I've heard too many stories of drivers leaving the car running and rushing out after dropping off the order to find a missing car.

Billy's house is rather creepy. Or at least I used to think so until I talked with him. There's a sidewalk that goes from the street's sidewalk towards the front door, but there's a porch there. It's a screen porch sort of thing, where you should be able to see through it, but on days like today you can't. It makes it look dark and foreboding.

This house makes you sort of scared that you'll go in to find a horror movie monster. Not to mention that his house is on the corner, and there's empty lots on all sides but one. Makes it feel like you are in the middle of nowhere. That if something happens, no one will know.

I step up the stairs of the porch like I normally do. My normal routine is to go in the porch and put everything right in front of the door. To sort of place them as tightly together as I can then take a picture of them before I go.

When I am inside the porch, suddenly someone presses something right against the back of my neck and pushes, HARD. It's so hard it slams me face first against the door, where I make a loud thud. Only they don't let go. They keep pushing to pin me like this, my fear level shooting through the roof.

Someone was in the porch. They were waiting for me. Oh dear me. Was this a set up? I think it was. Why? What in the world could they want?

"This is easy, bitch. Do as I say, and you live. Don't do as I say and I'll fuck you up royally and maybe even kill you, got it?" A harsh, dark voice growls in a way that doesn't sound human. It sounds like an evil wolf combined with a mean snake's lovechild. Hearing it makes my already terrified mind triple to the point I fear I may have a mind break.

I let out a whimper as my response. I'm pretty sure he has a gun at the back of my neck, so I'm too scared to make too big of a move. I've even left my hands where they are, pressed against the door as I'm scared a teeny tiny move may make him fire.

"Get your fucking clothes off," he orders in the same evil tone. My stomach sinks upon hearing this. It sinks past my feet and deep underground. It all makes sense now.

Whomever this guy is, set me up. He must have known Billy wasn't going to be home and set it all up. This guy planned it all out...to rape me. Oh dear me. This man is about to rape me.

Knowing this sends a strange shiver over me. My body shakes as if the coldest chill brushed over me, yet my body feels hot, as if in a sauna. It is what I can only call a conflicted emotion as I've never been so scared, yet some teeny tiny shred inside wants to know what's about to happen. That someone went through so much trouble...to have me.

Trembling, I lower my hands when the gun is removed from the back of my neck. Despite my best effort, I can't stop whimpering nor trembling as I step out of my flip flops and unbutton my jeans. Pouting, I slide not just my jeans down, but my panties as well, thus exposing my bare ass to the man. I do this out of fear as I worry if I go too slow he might get angry.

Instantly he reaches out and squeezes my bare ass as I pull my jeans/panties around my ankles. This makes me yelp out in both shock, disgust and surprise, where I press up against the door again. My reaction earns me a slap to the back of the head by him. A very hard slap.

"Shut up bitch! Get the rest off, now," he growls, sounding so very annoyed. Crying now, I pull down my jeans and panties all the way, then step out of them completely, becoming bottomless.

The moment both feet are out, he reaches over and grabs my both my jeans and panties. Out of the corner of my eye I see him take my panties and smell them while tossing my jeans off the porch. And I mean right off the porch into the front yard, far away from me.

Something about him doing that hits me hard. So hard in fact that the world spins for a moment before returning to normal. It makes me feel even more conflicted on the inside. I feel so incredibly scared of this crazy bastard, but another part feels, well, turned on. I know it sounds crazy, but that is what it feels like. I'm sure it is some strange defense that the body does to stay sane in such a situation, but man, I feel strange.

It's now I notice how all this feels very much like a dream. That it isn't really happening at all. That this is more like a fantasy roleplay that is happening than a real and dark event. I wonder if that's what I want it to be.

I grab the bottom of my top and lift. My trembling hands move fast while doing this, damn near ripping my top as it gets caught on my hair for a moment. But before I even have it all the way off, he grabs and yanks, taking it from me. I don't see him do it, but I hear him toss it off the porch as well.

Now I reach behind me to unclasp my bra. To remove the only piece of clothing I still have on. As my fingers fumble with the clasp, I wonder what he'll do with my bra. Will he keep it like my panties? Or will he toss it away like the others?

"Get those tits out, bitch," he grunts as I keep fumbling with the clasp. I finally open it and my bra becomes loose. I slide it down and off my arms, and he reaches out and snatches it. He grabs it like a wild animal snatching a smaller prey. It's so rough and lustful I let out a brief high-pitched scream.

He doesn't throw it off the porch nor does he smell it. Instead...he whips me with it. Swings it back, then swings it at my bare ass, making it hit me. It hits me in a strange way, making me feel a strange mix of feelings.

I cry out as the bra snaps against my flesh, sending a stinging pain over me from the straps striking. At once I move my hands behind me to try and protect it as he hits me with it again. The fabric of it is strangely effective as a whip, leaving red welts across my cheeks as I desperately try to get my hands to take the blow. The bra cups don't hurt that bad, but the wire frame does as it is swung with such force.

"Bitch, do you want to die? Get your hands out of the way. In fact, stand spread eagle like the fucking whore you are," my soon to be rapist orders. Crying from the pain and humiliation, I know I have to do it. If I don't, he'll hurt me worse and no doubt kill me.

Feeling pathetic and helpless, I do as he wants, lifting my hands from behind me and placing them outward. Then I spread my legs to stand completely spread eagle. It makes me wonder if anyone could see me like this from the street. If anyone wonders what is happening to me.

He then swings my bra like a whip, smacking it right over my bare ass to make me yelp out repeatedly. For several minutes he whips me, swinging my piece of underwear as hard as he can as if getting his frustrations out. The only good thing from this is sometimes when he swings it, it doesn't really hurt. That the part of my bra that hits doesn't have anything hard to make it sting.

Something odd happens as he does this to me. If it was just a fast action of being hit a few times and stopping, I don't think I would feel like this. But since he takes his time and makes a production out of it, it strikes me in a scary and powerful manner. Especially as he is whipping me with my own bra. I mean, I've never even heard of that being done.

I'm...aroused. No. That's the wrong word. Aroused is when I'm about to have sex with a boyfriend. The slow build up from a nice night, or playful flirting. This feels nothing like that. This feels more like my sex wants to be used. It's a dark feeling. A dark, shameful feeling that makes me feel like I have something wrong with me for I'm loving the way he is making me feel pathetic and weak. I love this feeling of being hurt in such a humiliating manner.

I'm being whipped with my own bra. My own bra is leaving thin welts over my body, stinging each time it strikes. It makes my sex tingle in a dark manner, causing me to squirm. I know it looks as if I'm squirming due to the whipping itself, but it's the way my womanhood starts to ache. In fact, I realize that I wish he would try and whip it as well. For I get the strange feeling he's doing this because he is mad at how badly he wants me. That he's upset at the fact he wants me.

"Turn around, hands on your head. Show the neighborhood what you got," he orders, truly worked up. Breathing hard from how intense and overwhelming this is, I slowly lower my arms from their sticking out position. They tremble badly as I bring them upward to go on top of my head. Then, slowly, I take small steps until I've turned around.

My tits and pussy are now clearly visible by the man. I make sure to keep looking forward and not at the side where he stands, scared what he might do if I did. Like a hostage, I stand as still as I can for him, knowing he's looking at all that I have. Standing and pretending that I can't see him in hopes he doesn't feel the need to do anything...extreme.

A flash then goes off, brightening the gloomy and scary afternoon. It surprises me to the point that I let out a small yelp as I wasn't expecting it. That's when my face reddens as it dawns on me that he's taking pictures of me. More flashes go off, meaning more naked pictures of myself, including my face.

Dear me, what's going to happen to these pictures? Will these go on his wall? Will they join some sick Hall of Rapes that he has? That he'll look at them at times to pleasure himself all over again?

He stops taking pictures and then grabs my bra once again. Stepping forward in front of me, I get my first look at the man. He's a shorter man, meaning shorter than I am, but he seems very stocky. His body is wider, showing he is somewhat muscular. Over all, he's just a man. A normal looking body type.

To protect himself, he wears a black ski mask to make sure I can't see who he is. It makes him look even scarier as the way his piercing blue eyes shine, it makes him look like a serial killer from a movie. Those eyes are extremely intense, revealing hatred for me. Hatred for my body. Hatred for wanting me.

He swings the bra again, making it hit right on my left boob. I cry out as it stings bad, much worse than it did on my ass, making me cringe in front of him. When I do, I feel my breasts jiggle about, which he strikes again. And again. And again.

For several minutes, he whips my breasts with my bra, again making me feel like he's mad at them. That he wants to punish not just myself, but my tits. That he's mad at how badly he wants my tits. It again fills me with that strange darkness that makes me worried about myself. About what turns me on and how badly I want it.

Finally, he stops. When he does, I find myself breathing extremely hard, even if I'm not in that much pain. True, my poor boobs ache from the places the strap hit and left those thin red welts, but overall it isn't that bad. If anything, it's made me start to crave more. For him to drop the bra and use his hands.

"This is your fault, you know that, right?" My soon to be rapist growls, his voice sounding so pissed. It's so strange to hear such anger when I don't even know this person. Don't know him nor have I ever done anything to him...that I know of. Yet he hates me this much.

"Coming around here, flaunting those tits of yours and that ass," he keeps on, slapping my left tit with his open hand to make it bounce. When he does, I yelp another high pitch yelp, but there is clear pleasure in the sound. It feels even better than what I thought it would. Yet I keep standing as I am, hands on my head and facing the exit of the porch.

"Making me want to taste that pussy. It's all your fault. This is happening because it's your fault," he says, almost yelling the last part as if crazed. All I can do is gulp as I don't know what else to do. What do you say to something like that? That you are sorry? That you disagree? What am I supposed to do?

"Now...because of you flaunting your body about, I'm gonna fuck you. Fuck that pussy like it's never been fucked, and you gonna have to take it. Gonna have to feel what it's like to have a real man's cock up that slutty pussy. Feel what it is to be with a real fucking man that gonna make those funbags bounce to the fucking moon," he says, seemingly getting more and more upset the longer he goes on. The guy is flirting with the point of truly being crazed.

"Now bend the fuck over, whore," he demands, taking a step forward as if to hit me. But instead of hitting me, he grabs a handful of my hair and yanks downward. I cry out at this as it feels like my hair has been ripped out. But he does manage to make me bend over some.

Crying from fear and humiliation, I start to bend over more. I bend until I'm flat, to which he moves behind me. His hand presses on my back, ordering me to bend even more. I do as he wants, my hands now reaching out to grab the sides of the open doorway of the porch.

My crying nearly becomes a sob as he kicks at the sides of my feet to make me spread my legs. Doing this pushes me forward some, so now my head sticks out of the porch. Now my face can be seen if anyone happens to look at the porch.

"Now...tell me to fuck your pussy. And it better sound like you mean it," he warns behind me, the sound of him undoing his pants clearly heard. Now I know his pants are around his ankles, his hard cock probably out and aching.

It's about to happen. It's really about to happen. I'm about to be raped. About to be forcefully taken in such a humiliating place.

"F-F-Fuck my p-pussy please," I tell the man, but this gets me a slap on my bare ass. A very hard slap which leaves a handprint. A slap that leaves a loud clap sound, aching my already whipped ass. I take it this is him showing he didn't like the way I said it.

"FUCK MY PUSSY PLEASE!" I yell out, tears in my voice. He laughs. He laughs at me yelling this. Laughs in a way that I can tell he is LOVING this. He slaps my ass again in response, but it's not as hard as the previous.

"Since you asked so nicely," he taunts, and then pokes his cock between my cheeks. I feel him handling his cock, moving it until it is at my pussy opening. Feeling this makes me tense up as I can't believe this is happening. That I'm about to be raped in such a horrible manner.

"Oh yeah," the rapist moans as he slides his cock inside my pussy. He slides it in, moaning loudly as he does, as if my pussy is the best feeling pussy in all his life. When he slides it in, his cock pushes my pussy walls open, making me gasp and moan as well. It's such a horrible violating feeling, but it makes my eyes roll in how intense and great it feels.

The man starts to fuck me now, holding my hips as he pushes me forward and then back on his cock as he thrusts. He starts slow but quickly speeds up. Each time he pulls my hips back he thrusts forward hard to make my body bounce off him and his cock. And each time I move either up or down him, I feel the way his cock feels inside me. How it feels so tight inside me, so hard, so violating.

"That's right bitch, that's my cock," he taunts as he fucks me hard enough that a loud clapping sound echoes all around. Now my tits swing wildly, making me feel lewd and dirty. There's even a dirty wet sound of his cock sliding about in such a wet pussy.

"Say it. Say how my cock is in your pussy," he says, taking a handful of my hair. Now he just has one hand on my hip, no longer forcing me but directing me to keep going. He uses the grip on my hair to pull me back, making me do it on my own or else get my hair pulled harder.