Lark

I removed the vibrator when I sensed that she was too sensitive and spontaneously kissed her. I'm not sure why. I was supposed to be punishing her. Justly. The kiss became passionate and when it ended she smiled, snuggled to me as best she could with her hands bound, and whispered, "God, Chad, that was amazing, wonderful. Let me loose now. Undo the handcuffs. Please."

"Oh no, I don't think so, Nora. I heard all about your plan this afternoon. 'How to Use a Prick's Prick to Tame and Train Him,' is a catchy title, but your movie is going to have a different ending." With that I slid down between her legs and planted my mouth on her pussy. She sighed when my tongue snaked into her slit and gasped when it slithered up to embrace her very erect clit.

Three orgasms later she lay limp, exhausted and twitching. I took my mouth off her pussy and kissed my way up her body. It was time to complete MY plan. It was time to fuck her.

But as soon as my cock nudged her vulva she recoiled violently and literally screamed, "Oh God, no, please no! Please don't do it, Chad! Please, no! PLEASE!"

I was stunned and looked at her face. She was suddenly terrified, trembling, and weeping uncontrollably.

The sight of her angst instantly dissolved my anger and I was flooded with a tenderness, an affection for her the depth of which I'd been unaware. I slid to the side so she'd know I wasn't going to penetrate her, cradled her head in my hands and locked her eyes to mine. "It's OK, Nora. Everything's fine. You're safe. I'll never do anything you don't want." At first her eyes were wild, uncomprehending, but as her panic abated I slowly saw the relief flood over her and she collapsed into my arms. I was reaching up to unlock the cuffs when her door burst open.

"You fucking bastard!" is all I heard, and the lady linebacker swinging the bat at my head is all I saw before the lights went out.

- - - - -

Pain.

My head was pounding wickedly, throbbing with each heartbeat, far worse than my most extreme hangover. I surmised that the linebacker must have kicked me in the balls, repeatedly and with gusto, as my groin was afire with aching, blazing agony. I recoiled at the bilious burn of vomit in my throat and spit to clear it so I could gasp in the air I needed. The pitiful moaning continued for several seconds before I realized it was me. My hands were clinging to my testicles, trying to coddle them, to assuage the horrible ache. I felt a band around my scrotum, between my body and my balls, and my fingers kept clawing, scrabbling at it. It was unbelievably tight, and I could get no purchase on it, but kept futilely trying.

Everything swam when I forced open my eyes. My ball sac was dark purple, almost black, bulging, and the little blue ring had to be no more than half an inch in diameter. Being from cattle country I recognized the tool lying beside me on the floor. An elastrator, a device used to castrate animals. Someone had banded my testicles and they were being starved of blood. The searing pain was worse knowing my balls were dying. I vomited again.

There was a voice, Nora's. "Oh my God! Where is he? What have you done to him?"

"Nora, I love you. You know that. You're my lover and we're complete together. I'll do anything for you. He hurt you, raped you, just like those other assholes, and I couldn't stand it. Janice knocked him out and I fixed him good. I've gelded the asshole and his balls will be dead soon. He'll never rape another..."

"Where is he?" Nora was insistent, urgent.

A door scraped open and Nora was at my side. "Oh, Chad, I'm so sorry. Judy, he didn't do anything to me. He was nice; he stopped when he saw I was upset. You've got to fix this. Get that thing off him. Do it now."

"It's not that easy. The band is so tight that I'll cut his scrotum if I..."

"Get it off him! Now!"

"OK, God damn it! Janice, hold him still. Get his hands off his balls. Quick, Alice, hand me those scissors."

My hands were jerked aside, someone shoved me onto my back and sat on me. The sharp, stabbing pains from my scrotum came from near the band and I heard scissors snipping. I lurched to the side as I threw up again. More snips and cuts into my scrotum followed and finally the band gave way. If anything the pain was more intense as the blood rushed back into my balls. I welcomed the darkness.

- - - - -

The beeping of the medical monitor was deafening and each bleep exploded in my head. The room spun when my eyes cracked open. I couldn't think but remembered. God, are my balls dead?

"Hi Chad, I'm glad you're awake."

"Who are you? Where am I?"

"I told them I'm your sister so I could be here in your room. I'm Marsha Mason, vice-president of FIST. You're in the hospital, Chad. You have a concussion, your scrotum has some minor cuts, and of course your testicles are damaged, but the doctors say you'll recover."

"Get out of here. Now. I need to talk to the police."

"I understand that you're angry, Chad, and I'll leave in a bit, but first you need to know the situation."

"All I need is to talk to the cops, to press charges."

"The police are right outside the door, Chad, but you need to know the facts before you say anything to them. You're in very serious trouble and are certainly not going to be filing any charges."

"Like hell, I'm not. That one woman, the big one, almost killed me, and another tried to castrate me. Get the cops."

"Chad, raise your hand."

Mystified, I dumbly did. The cuff on my wrist clanked against the hospital bed's side restraint.

"What the hell..."

"I'm sorry, Chad, but they had to do it. It was all a big misunderstanding, and this is the only way out. For everyone, including you. Judy had the idea and everyone agreed."

"What are you talking about? What is going on?"

"You are under arrest, Chad, charged with raping Nora. She won't press charges if you go along and cooperate."

"But I didn't rape her! I was about to fuck her but stopped when she got so upset. There's no way..."

"But the police rape kit found your semen in her vagina."

"What...?"

"Well, she had some from the morning when she ruined your orgasm, if you recall. They had to make up a story to explain everything. Judy did and it's the only way. Now, here's what really happened. You need to listen carefully."

"Fuck you, Marsha, I'm going to tell the truth."

"Here's the truth as the three witnesses and the victim, poor Nora, have already given it to the police. You and Nora were making out in her room, but then you went wild and would not stop trying to fuck her even when she repeatedly told, even begged, you to stop. You were so crazy and depraved that you put that bizarre band on your balls for some sick thrill, and then just raped Nora. When she screamed, Alice, Judy, and Janice burst in and Janice hit you with the softball bat. God, banding your own balls! You are so warped and sick! It will all be fine in the end though."

"You can't be serious about this. The cops will never believe it. It's..."

"They already believe it, Chad. You're under arrest. Your semen was in Nora's vagina. Three people heard her scream for help. They burst in and saw you, the band around your balls, raping Nora, whose hands you had handcuffed to the bed. They all told exactly the same story. You are in very serious trouble, Chad. But, as I said, if you go along, Nora won't press charges, and everything will be fine."

My brain, addled with pain, drugged with painkillers that scarcely seemed to be working, and reeling with rage, struggled to comprehend what this woman had just revealed, what Nora and her friends had done. Marsha stood calmly next to me, smiling smugly, waiting for me to capitulate.

Finally a thought formed and I angrily hissed, "'Everything will be fine!' I can't believe you. One of you almost killed me and my balls may be dead. They hurt like hell, by the way."

"Oh, they'll be fine," Marsha scoffed. "The doctors feel that the odds are pretty good that they'll recover fully. In a few months. Maybe longer. It's too bad about the pain, but you have to remember that Nora actually saved them, made Judy cut the band off you."

Marsha snorted derisively, then continued, "Judy was SO tempted to cut everything off, balls, scrotum and all, below the band which would have minimized the bleeding, but... Anyway, Nora saved your precious balls. You should be very grateful."

"You fucking bitches - I will get you, no matter how long it takes."

"Now don't be petulant, Chad. You've got a concussion from the bat, but you'll recover from that, and your family jewels are going to be fine."

When my fuming brain found no rejoinder, Marsha continued, "So you see, Chad, there's no real harm done, and unless you want to go to jail, for a long time, you'll just have to go along with Judy's version of events. Remember, this is the truth: you got carried away - were you maybe on drugs, Chad? - banded yourself and raped Nora even when she said no and begged you not to. It may be date rape, but with the added kinky perversion angle I'm certain you'll get a long prison sentence. And the men in there will treat you like the very 'special' person you are. However, because Nora is so nice, and likes you so much - she really does, though I can't imagine why - she won't press charges. As long as you accept reality."

Checkmate.

- - - - -

"I wish to hell that they'd left that band on your balls, you fucking pervert!"

I was being discharged from the hospital and the cop who was removing the cuffs was pissed. He was the law, and he hated that he could do nothing but release me once Nora had dropped the charges. He had firm convictions, and that rapists should be severely punished was evidently one of them.

The doctor held me in similar contempt but was professional enough to give me information about my condition. The concussion could mean months of headaches, problems with concentration, memory, balance, and coordination, but the symptoms would gradually fade. Swell. Speaking of swell, my testicles were huge, purple, ached constantly, and felt like they'd been kicked hard at even the slightest touch. The disgust and antipathy of the nurses who changed my dressings and applied the ice packs to my balls were evident in their rough treatment of them, and their smug sneers that greeted my winces and groans.

The doc enjoyed telling me that any kind of movement, even slow walking, would be very painful, but would gradually abate. He said I had probably a 75 % chance that my testes would recover fully, but I could tell that he, like the cop, hoped for the worst. Finally, he wrote a script for painkillers, undoubtedly hoping I'd become addicted.

I'd once forgotten Mother's Day and saw that same look of hurt and disappointment in her eyes, only amplified a thousand times, as Mom helped me from the wheelchair into the car at the hospital. I sat dumbly as she went into the store to buy the tight briefs - though anything touching my balls was excruciating, they needed to be supported and my boxers wouldn't cut it - and some food. Her anguish deepened as I tried to tell her the truth, to explain that I was framed. Not only was her son a sick, sexual pervert, but he was a liar. When her tears became uncontrollable I simply gave up, reiterated that I was innocent, and shut up. She escaped to her motel and I ate the sandwich she'd bought me for dinner.

The next day when I limped into Comp Sci 405 things got worse. Even my friends' eyes betrayed their contempt before they could avert them, and Dr. Allison, my adviser and mentor, totally ignored me and rushed out after his lecture so I couldn't even talk to him.

It was the same in every class. I was scorned, shunned, and snubbed. Meals at the cafeteria were a special treat, cold silence descending as I entered, and because I could hardly hobble, my humiliating parade through the line to get food played out in slow motion before all eyes. I kept my eyes on the floor, but heard the smirks. From everywhere. I didn't catch any of the servers spitting in my food, but I might have missed it. And I saw nary a one of those who cleverly shot the rubber bands at me. Their sniggering was a good touch. Since I was able to manage just fine on my own, Mom, much to her relief, caught the next plane home.

Then things got still worse. The first letter was from the Provost, summoning me to a meeting at ten the next morning. While no reason was given I assumed the worst. Could they expel me at this late date? The second was an email. Debbie, my intended, explained that she was appalled and horrified by what I'd done, could not imagine ever being around me again, and, oh by the way, the wonderful guy she was seeing now was helping her through her crisis.

The third missive, registered mail, special delivery, iced the cake. Western Technical's HR Department was writing to inform me that my summer job, the one that would guarantee the great position with them that I had earned through my previous internships, had been eliminated. The company was moving in a new direction and I no longer figured in their plans.

Being a computer whiz it took me less than four minutes to find it. Citizens United for Fairness to Females, CUFF for short, devoted its entire website to publicizing the names of men, and in the spirit of fairness, some women, accused of sexual violence against women. Accused, not convicted. Guys made the cut even if they had been acquitted or the charges had been dropped. I had my own page. I was famous.

The lawyer my dad hired convinced the Provost that expelling me so close to graduation would make for a lucrative lawsuit even a novice nincompoop could win. She dropped the idea. Only reluctantly, though, as she made her disgust obvious. The red-mouth representing me didn't seem at all concerned when he negotiated away my honors in exchange for being allowed to finish my degree.

- - - - -

I finally identified the annoying sound as soft knocking on my door. I pulled the covers over my head and ignored it. It came again. More covers. The next time it was a little louder. I added my pillow. It became louder still.

"Go away," I snarled.

Whoever it was kept tapping, gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

"Go away." My snarl was louder.

"Chad, I won't go away. Open the door."

Nora. A lark, not a raven. And I didn't even have a decent knife, much less a gun.

"Go away, Nora. Leave me alone."

Rapping, tapping. "I'm won't leave until you talk to me. You might as well open the door, Chad."

I just lay there, coiled in a tight ball on my bed, where I'd been for hours. The Provost had dismissed me at 10:37 that morning, right after she'd typed up and we all signed the agreement. The lawyer, I'm sure rounding his billable hours up till 11:00, made not the slightest effort to hide his contempt as he wordlessly turned and strode away. My head was reeling - post concussion - and my balls were aching horribly, so I just limped back to my room. I'd been curled up in bed since and had no plans to get up. Ever. Certainly not to talk to the person who had ruined my life.

Rapping, tapping.

Rapping, tapping. "I'm not going away, Chad. Please, talk to me."

Rapping, tapping.

"God damn it! God damn you! Go away!"

Rapping, tapping.

I finally realized that she was never going to leave. I would have no peace. I staggered up, wincing at the searing ache in my crotch, and limped to the door. Once the deadbolt clicked she shoved her way inside and turned on me.

Incredibly, she was angry. "Here! You need to eat something, Chad. You weren't at lunch or dinner. You have to eat. Take this." She shoved the box at me. I dismissively flipped it on the desk.

"Go fuck yourself, Nora. Stay out of my life. You've done quite enough." I hoped my withering sarcasm would scar her for life.

In a softer voice, "Oh, Chad, I'm so sorry this has taken such a bad turn. We didn't anticipate that, not at all. Judy made up what she thought would be a reasonable story, a good way to explain everything, and not hurt anyone. Well, not too much. We're all sorry. Me especially. I never should have gone along with Judy's plan. I see that now, but, well, she was just so convincing, and um, we are involved, a couple, you know. I really had to. I'm so sorry.

"I know the other students are being mean to you, and I'm going to fix that. Tomorrow at breakfast, lunch and dinner I'm going to sit with you. When they see that I'm not holding a grudge it will make a difference. I'll make things all better, you'll see."

I gawked, mouth agape. "God. You're so naïve. You don't have a clue."

"What do you mean? I don't understand."

I pulled up the CUFF site on my computer, clicked on my page, the one with my name, picture, address and phone number - I'd put it on airplane mode after the ninth nasty call - prominently displayed, and handed her the Provost's agreement and the Western Tech letter. I curled up on the bed as she sat at my computer and read.

I went back to fuming, plotting my revenge, imagining all the ways I could possibly hurt her. Such thoughts had been the only bright spots in my day. Oh, I'd get the other women, too, but mostly I was going to destroy Nora. To think I'd actually had feelings for her!

It alarmed me at first but I soon realized it didn't matter. I could get another copy of the Provost's agreement, and besides, tear stains probably wouldn't make it invalid. Nora just sat, stock still, silently sobbing, the tears streaming down her cheeks, pattering onto the paper. Fuck her. I ruefully thought I should have done it when I had the chance. I was being punished for it so might as well have had the satisfaction.

Her voice was tiny, "Oh my God, Chad, I had no idea this could happen. I'm so, so awfully sorry. I feel so badly."

"Fuck you, Nora. I don't give a shit about how you feel. That website will ensure that I never get a decent job, and how am I ever going to find someone who... Oh, screw it. Can't you just leave?"

"I never should have let Judy talk me into the film thing. I tried to stop it, but... And even worse, how could I have gone along with accusing you, framing you for rape? Oh God, I'm so awfully sorry, Chad. But there must be something I can do, some way I can fix this. I promise that I'll find it."

"And you'll fix that my now ex-fiancé considers me an aberrant psychopath, will never see me again, and has quickly found another guy? Huh? How are you going to fix that?"

"Oh, God. I'm sorry..."

"And you'll fix that my mother hates me, knows I'm a lying, sick pervert and probably hopes that I'll never come home after college? You're going to fix that, too?"

Her soft sobbing crescendoed to wailing, replete with wracking sobs shaking her body. Still Nora just sat, keening in the corner, overcome with grief.

I wouldn't have it. There was no room in my wreck of a life for sympathy for her, the one who had ruined it. I limped over, dragged her up off the chair and force-marched her to the door. She was saying, "No, no, don't make me leave...," but I shoved her up against the wall hard and held her there while I opened the door. Her shoulders were trembling as I grabbed them and pushed her out, hard. She stumbled slightly but as I turned to go back in she quickly scampered to me and got just under my right arm, wrapping hers around me, hugging me to her desperately. As I struggled to roughly extricate myself I thought maybe I'd slap her, punch her, elbow her, something her, send her the message that way.

I froze when she kissed me. On the cheek. Nora whispered "I'll be back tomorrow," and was gone.

- - - - -

Nora's rapping woke me the next day right before noon. I had skipped breakfast and my morning classes. I needed to rest and recover, and, as all classes allowed three unexcused absences - and I had none - there was no problem. I knew it was her as soon as I heard the rapping, but waited until she had again demonstrated that she was just never going to leave before going to the door.