It Happened to Her

[This is a self-contained, standalone story, not a part of a longer-form series. However, it does feature some characters from my other stories. Be aware, this story involves explicit nonconsent/reluctance (both male-on-female and female-on-female), drunk sex, voyeurism, somnophilia/sleepfucking, drug use references and some pissing. Avoid if those themes trouble you.

Obviously this story is fantasy; don't try this at home. All characters involved in sexual situations are aged over 18.]

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It happened to Pippa when she was twenty years old.

It happened at a house party hosted by Sophia, a friend from her university course, in a tiny rented place just outside the city limits. She hadn't particularly wanted to come, but it was a Friday night, she didn't have anything better planned, and Sophia had promised her it would be a chilled and friendly little gathering.

The chilled and friendly little gathering turned out to consist of forty drunk and high students packed into the house like sardines, almost all of them complete strangers to Pippa. By the time she arrived, the booze had been flowing for hours and everyone was already way out of control. There were people railing coke off the kitchen counter, people making out sloppily against every wall, people drunkenly pissing in the overgrown garden. The place had a feral energy to it, and Pippa was way out of her depth. She felt like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole.

She tried her best not to be a wallflower. She forced herself to mingle, though she wanted to make some excuse to go home early. After a few faltering attempts to start a conversation with random girls, she found herself chatting to a tall, rangy guy who introduced himself as Darius. He was crookedly handsome and soft-spoken, with a gentle smile that Pippa found soothing in all the noise and chaos. It helped that he seemed much more sober than everyone else. But it wasn't long before he started to get more flirtatious with her, leaning in very close and checking her out quite obviously. He speckled the conversation with compliments, some of them indecent enough to make her blush.

It was exciting, but confusing. She was unsure why he was so interested in her. She was reasonably pretty, she'd give herself that much, but far from the prettiest girl there. She was tall and gangly and small-breasted, while the party was full of busty little beauties. Darius' open flirting left her feeling more like a deer in the headlights than a sexy seductress.

Later on, she realised that was exactly why Darius had chosen her. She was shy, socially awkward, an outsider. A good victim.

Peer pressure was Pippa's undoing that night. After resolving to stay, she drank a lot more than she was used to, trying to keep up with the hardened party crowd, and also to build up her confidence around Darius. Inevitably, she overdid it. Sometime in the night, with the party still at full swing, the booze hit her all at once. The world began to swivel, voices and faces blurring together into an abstract smear. She stumbled on the way to the kitchen and nearly fell over, and Darius caught her while others laughed. Someone said, "Look at her, she's done. Put her to bed."

She was dimly aware of kind hands leading her to one of the darkened bedrooms, Sophia and another girl giving her some water and helping her into bed. They left her to sleep it off, promising to check in on her later.

She lay in that warm bed, her head spinning, drifting between blessed sleep and hazy consciousness. The noise of the party reached her as a dull hubbub. She tried to blot it out.

It was an hour, or maybe longer, before the bedroom door opened. Pippa awoke from a shallow doze at the sudden light from the hallway, but didn't lift her drowsy head from the pillows. She kept her eyes shut. Sophia would just check on her, assume she was asleep, and leave her alone.

But when the door closed, the person was still in the dark room with her. When they sat down on the bed beside her, she realised that it wasn't Sophia. The presence was big, looming, unquestionably male.

Pippa was too drunk and tired to sit up or speak. The world still felt very far away, her limbs barely responsive. She could only lie there mutely as the guy gently pulled back the covers to expose her body. Sophia had helpfully undressed her before putting her to bed, so she was hardly wearing anything -- topless, barefoot, nothing but her panties protecting her modesty. The sudden cool air on her naked breasts made her nipples peak.

The guy clambered on top of her. Sharp fear was beginning to cut through the drunken haze; fear and, somehow, excitement. She could feel his heat, hear his quiet breathing. His strong hands were warm on her thighs, sliding up her torso to squeeze her small, sensitive breasts. He kissed her, first on the cheek, then on the lips. Her pussy was responding, swelling up, getting wet in anticipation of the inevitable. She wanted to call for help, but at the same time she didn't want him to stop.

He kissed her hungrily, emboldened by her lack of resistance. His hands were all over her, pawing at her, sometimes gentle, sometimes rough enough to hurt. He sat up to pull her panties down, and she opened her eyes, finally getting a faint glimpse of his face in the darkness.

It was Darius. Of course it was Darius.

He tugged her panties down her thighs. The air caressed her pussy lips. She managed to get her voice working -- letting out an almost inaudible croak of "No" -- before he was on top of her again, kissing her, burying her protests. His belt clinked as he unbuckled it. The party went on noisily below them. Pippa realised even if she could muster the energy to scream, nobody was likely to hear her. The thought was somehow incredibly arousing.

With a soft grunt, Darius slid his hard cock inside her. Pippa was no virgin, but all her previous boyfriends had been fairly average-sized down there. Darius was only a bit girthier than them, but he was very, very long. He just kept going deeper, to the point Pippa couldn't believe her pussy could stretch so far. She moaned in dismay, trapped beneath him with no choice but to take that long dick. At least it was easy for him to slide in. Because, to her shame and horror, she was soaking wet.

"Please," she mumbled, her mouth dry and her head pulsing giddily from the alcohol. He smiled at her, very calm and friendly, as if he was simply taking care of her just like Sophia had. He began to thrust.

Pippa was seized by terror and shock and revulsion, feeling herself getting violated in the darkness by this total stranger, the most primal female nightmare come to life. And yet, beneath that visceral reaction was an even more primitive feeling. The thrill of a big cock filling her pussy.

His rhythm was slow, but forceful, hitting spots inside her she'd never had a guy reach before. His hands groped roughly at her tits and the weight of his tall thin body pressed down on her. She heard muffled little gasps and squeaks of pleasure. To her disbelief, she realised they were coming from her.

The party throbbed on below them. Pippa prayed for Sophia to return, for someone, anyone, to walk in and save her. Then she imagined them coming in just to watch her get fucked, to leer and laugh at her for enjoying it. What a terrible, delicious humiliation that would be. Suddenly, she wanted it more than any rescue.

An orgasm spiked through her like a thunderbolt. It was so unexpected she screamed, or tried to; all that came from her lips was a pitiful moan. Her body shuddered, toes curling, heart thundering. Her spasming pussy gushed in intense squirts, soaking the bed between her legs. She'd never cum from simple penetration before. And he was still fucking her. Her body jolted with each rough pump.

"Please...stop," she said, fighting to make the words coherent through the drunken fog. She didn't even feel sincere in protesting. As she spoke, she could feel the fire of another orgasm building, her wanton pussy shamelessly enjoying the abuse it was taking. She hated how good it felt, how her utter helplessness only heightened the pleasure.

He made her cum again, and this time she stopped pleading and just let it wash over her like a breaking wave, groaning with delight under his rutting bulk. She closed her eyes and drifted for a while, content to be used, resigned to her fate.

She was genuinely sorry when Darius tensed up and came, grunting in satisfaction as he unloaded his balls inside her. Though the feeling of his warm semen jetting into her unprotected pussy -- the first time a guy had ever ejaculated inside her without a condom -- was nearly enough to make her climax a third time. He pressed himself down forcefully onto her, pumping every drop of his cum deep inside her, until he was fully spent.

He pulled out of her, leaving her immediately missing his warmth and weight on top of her. He didn't even give her a kiss goodbye. He just tucked away his long cock, buckled up his belt and departed, sparing her only the briefest glance before he closed the door and left her in the soothing darkness. When he was gone, she realised that he hadn't said a single word to her the entire time.

Exhaustion took her soon after. The bedroom, and the party's noise, and even her sore, cum-dripping vagina, all faded from her perception.

She already knew, as sleep took her, that her life would never be the same again.

*

Pippa told no-one, of course. She didn't know whether it was out of shame and self-disgust, or the fear of scandal and the grim business of dealing with law enforcement. She just couldn't bring herself to talk about it, not to Sophia, or her parents, or anyone.

Instead, she tried her hardest to make it happen again.

Her natural shyness was gone, as if Darius had stolen it along with her innocence. Her appetite for sex, previously so modest and conservative, became insatiable. Before, she wouldn't even kiss until the third date; now she fucked on the first. She had a brief and intense phase as one of the most prolific sluts on campus, sleeping with dozens of guys and several girls in the months after her encounter with Darius, before a pregnancy scare forced her to calm down.

She went back to monogamous relationships in her final year of university, channelling her new energy into making those relationships as sexual as possible. The sex was safer with a steady partner, but still never enough to satisfy her. Her boyfriends started off delighted to have such an insatiable lover, but before long her kinks invariably drove them away. She always wanted them to be rougher, to hurt her and violate her, to sleepfuck her every night and leave her covered in bruises. Even the ones who were initially into it eventually got freaked out.

"What's wrong with you, Pip?" one guy said in exasperation, after she made him smack her around hard enough to draw blood. He did it, but she could tell his heart wasn't in it, and it was only a fleeting thrill for her. "I thought you were a sweet girl. Where does all this crazy shit come from?"

She had no answer for him, or not one she was willing to speak aloud. They broke up soon after. Within a week, she was already fucking his replacement.

She never saw Darius again, though she searched high and low for him. She told herself she was crazy for doing it -- actively seeking out the man who'd taken such cruel advantage of her. She did it anyway.

After graduation, she moved to the inner city, finding an entry-level job in an IT services firm. She went through relationships on a six-month cycle, wearing out her boyfriends and girlfriends like running shoes. Her kinkiness grew steadily. She dreamed of Darius, and woke to disappointment. She never lacked for lovers, yet none of them were able to give her what she needed.

The years passed. She got promoted, moved back and forth between districts, changed jobs, saw Sophia and many of her other friends settle down and get married. She had some romantic false dawns -- a guy she moved in with for nearly a year, a girl she briefly believed was her soulmate -- but they always fizzled out. She just couldn't keep her kinky side suppressed.

As she drifted into her late twenties, financially comfortable but restless and dissatisfied with her life, Pippa began to wonder if she needed psychiatric help. How could she let one weird, confusing, long-ago sexual encounter fuck her up like this?

The worst thing was, she realised that her sexual desires were still changing, growing darker and darker. She thought constantly about what Darius had done to her, and tried to replicate that sick pleasure with every new lover. But more and more, she also fantasised about a role reversal. She wondered what it would like to be the rapist, rather than the raped. In particular, she wanted to force herself on another woman, to truly experience the act as Darius had done. She roleplayed it a few times with her female partners, but the make-believe version -- all safewords and aftercare and not a hint of real danger -- didn't satisfy her. Only the real thing would do.

Thankfully, she wasn't yet that far gone. She never tried to make her fantasy a reality, even when she had a girlfriend sleeping naked right beside her, and the twisted yearning was in her like a wildfire. With supreme self-control, she held it back, not showing the slightest outward sign of her mental turmoil. She might have been one truly fucked-up woman, but she wasn't actually a rapist.

Until she met Kezia.

*

It was a particularly sweltering summer, a record dry spell both for half the country and for Pippa's love life. She'd grown disillusioned with the dating game, finding that she had no appetite for yet another months-long relationship that would inevitably end in alienation and disappointment. She also was sick of random hookups, especially since her fantasies were getting more and more extreme, making vanilla sex distinctly unsatisfying. She was as horny as ever, but no cock or pussy could relieve her. And masturbation, reliable as it was, couldn't scratch the itch either.

She swore off dating for the time being and tried to focus on herself. Work was going well, but it wasn't enough of a distraction from the turmoil in her mind. Early that summer, seeking a change of environment, she moved to a small two-bed house in one of the quieter suburbs. Her housemate was a friendly, ditzy young pharmacy assistant named Kezia.

Pippa fell in lust with her almost immediately.

Kezia was twenty-five, three years younger than Pippa. She was an energetic little platinum-blonde, very pretty, slim and petite as could be -- except for her tits, which were spectacularly big and, shockingly enough, natural. She liked to wear disgracefully tight tops that showed off that marvellous rack to the fullest; Pippa honestly found it difficult to maintain eye contact when talking to her. Kezia was also not at all shy about nudity, often wandering out of the bathroom butt-naked in the mornings, apparently happy for Pippa to see everything. And then there was her sex life, which was absolutely relentless.

Pippa might have been going through a dry spell, but Kezia certainly wasn't. On the contrary, she seemed to have the most popular vagina in a five-mile radius. She brought home a rotating cast of disposable fuckboys and on-and-off boyfriends, sometimes three different guys in a single week, and let them fuck her silly for hours on end. The thin walls meant that Pippa heard every moan and gasp and groan, a soundtrack to her horny frustration. It didn't help that Kezia sounded really hot when she orgasmed. And she orgasmed a lot.

Pippa's sexual frustration soon reached boiling point, turning into a kind of angry love-hate directed at sweet oblivious Kezia. She stroked and fingered herself nightly to the sounds of Kezia being fucked, driving herself to orgasm after orgasm with increasingly sick and depraved fantasies. She imagined being gangfucked by all her former partners and all of Kezia's boyfriends at once, used and discarded like a cheap whore. She imagined Kezia forcing her to lick her wet, slutty, nymphomaniac pussy. In her dreams, she was held down, smacked around, fucked and fisted and pissed on by every guy and girl she knew.

Then she imagined doing it all to Kezia herself. And always, always, at the moment of climax, she came back to the memory of that dark bedroom, and Darius' hands roving over her body.

It wasn't long before perverted curiosity turned Pippa into a voyeur. She found herself creeping to Kezia's door late at night to spy through the crack as the little blonde got her pussy wrecked by some anonymous man. Watching was even better than listening, and the constant danger of being caught just made it all the more thrilling. Pippa would stand in the gloomy corridor, squinting into the bedroom with two fingers plunged deep into her slippery sex, and drink in every detail. Kezia's legs curled around the small of her latest lover's back, her big round tits bouncing with his every thrust, the look of rapture on her pretty face, her moans and curses filling the air. More than once, the sight and sound of Kezia's orgasms brought Pippa to the edge at the same moment; Pippa would slink back to bed, tingling with shameful excitement, her inner thighs soaking wet.

One night, Kezia staggered into the house in the early hours, reeling drunk. Her newest conquest walked in after her. This time, rather than a coked-up fuckboy, it was a girl. Pippa was instantly enthralled. She watched from the top of the staircase, hidden in the shadows like a particularly pervy ghost, as a tall, skinny young woman with dyed-blue hair shoved Kezia against the living room wall, kissing her aggressively and sliding her hands up under her flimsy top. Kezia was so drunk she couldn't do much more than stand there and take it as her hookup kissed and fondled her. When the girl dropped onto her knees, shoving Kezia's ridiculously short skirt up to bare her pussy, Pippa shoved her fingers up into her own dripping cunt and watched with fascination.

The blue-haired girl ate Kezia out right then and there, up against the wall, engrossing herself in the task like a true professional. Pippa could distinctly hear the wet slurps and sucks of lips and tongue on labia and clit. Kezia squirmed and whimpered, her bare legs shuddering with reluctant pleasure -- she was far too drunk to truly consent, but also clearly enjoying herself far too much to struggle.

Pippa thought of Darius' calmly smiling face, and bit her tongue to stop herself from groaning in twisted delight. Her warm juices flowed out around her pumping fingers and dappled her thighs. Her eyes were locked on the show before her.

Kezia gave a choked cry as she came. Her pussy gushed right in the blue-haired girl's face, spraying into her open mouth and making her lean back in surprise. Pippa watched the clear arcs of squirt jet out. She instantly wondered what they tasted like, and wished that it was her face they were soaking.

Trembling, eyes closed, Kezia sank to the floor. Her nameless lesbian lover crouched over her and kissed her, murmuring sweet words to her, sliding a hand between her legs to play with the pussy she'd just licked. Kezia sat propped up against the wall, looking barely conscious. Alcohol and orgasm had knocked all the sense out of her. She was entirely at her girlfriend's mercy.

Pippa stayed in her shadowed spot upstairs, slowly fingering herself, and watched the very one-sided act of love play out for as long as she dared. But when she heard the blue-haired girl whisper, "Come to bed with me, baby," she didn't wait around to risk them catching her. She returned hurriedly to her bedroom, her bare feet silent on the carpet, and listened to the clumsy sounds of the girl helping Kezia up the stairs.