Leanne

This story is pure fiction and all characters are over the age of eighteen. Can one horrendous experience destroy a marriage?

*

Leanne was feeling mellow as she drove along the narrow winding road through the forest. It had been a tough week at a bush camp with twenty horny teenagers to control. As camp leader, she had four parents to assist, but as only one of them was a male, the boys were hard work.

She grinned as she thought back to the evening that the dad in the bunch hit on her. Using her best diplomatic skills, she avoided any unpleasantness without having to compromise her integrity. It did not escape her notice however, that the same father emerged from one of the female camp helpers' room at dawn the next morning.

A splutter from the car's engine brought her back to the present and she cursed silently for forgetting to refuel the car as she drove through the last village, even though she knew the tank was close to empty. Another splutter and she knew she needed to pull over, so she started looking for a spot between trees where she could pull off the narrow strip of blacktop.

Just ahead was a gap where she was able to steer the car before it finally sighed to a halt.

While fumbling through her handbag looking for her cellphone, she heard a car pull up behind her and breathed a sigh of relief. A young man in his late twenties emerged from the car with a big grin on his face.

"Looks like you've got a spot of trouble there ma'am," he smiled amiably. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Ran out of gas. Should have filled up at the last village but I had other things on my mind and completely forgot and drove straight through."

"That's too bad," he sympathised, stepping into the space immediately behind her, effectively blocking her escape from the open door of her car.

With a tinge of alarm in her voice, she said: "It's OK really. I was just looking for my cell to call roadside assist to bring me some fuel when you came along."

"That won't be necessary," he growled as he reached in and took her firmly by the arm.

"You're hurting me!" Leanne squealed as he dragged her from behind the wheel. Spinning her around easily in his arms, he pulled her back firmly against his chest and dragged her backwards away from the road and into the thick forest.

Leanne screamed in protest and tried desperately to kick backwards into her assailant's shins, but he was too quick for her, lowered his grip and dragged her along to negate the threat of a wild kick. Pushing her face first into the dirt, he drove a knee into her kidney and putting some weight over it, pinned her down to allow his hands to start lifting her skirt and reveal her panties.

"Now simmer down, lady," he threatened. "We can do this the easy way and you won't get hurt, or we can do it the hard way, but one way or another, you're about to be fucked. In fact, I rather hope you'll make a fight of it -- it's more fun that way."

The guy slipped off her shoes first and threw them into the bushes. "No point in leaving them for you to use as weapons," he taunted. Leanne wriggled desperately when he started to drag her panties down and realised that he was right. He was much bigger and heavier than she was and in good physical shape. There was no way she could prevent this from happening unless she was able to get a clean kick at his genitals, but the way he had her positioned, that was a long shot. She decided to play it smart.

Feeling the fight go out of her, he unzipped his slacks and his penis jumped out, red, angry and willing. With her arms still pinned beneath her body, he tried for some oral treatment first, but was surprised with the degree of fight left in his victim.

"You put that fucking thing in my mouth and I'll bite the end off it," she spat at him.

The back of his hand smashed against Leanne's cheekbone and she cried out in pain.

"Well?"

"I told you -- you put that thing in my mouth and I WILL bite the end off it," she repeated.

She was ready for the second vicious slap to the face and absorbed some of the impact by turning her face away, but it still caused her to cry out again and tears formed in her eyes.

"Ahh, fuck it," he mumbled. "I really only want a good screw and you're probably lousy at giving head anyway."

"You'll never know, Asshole."

That earned her another backhander and his attention then switched to removing what was left of her panties. As he rolled her onto her back, freeing her arms momentarily, he reminded her again that she could make this hard on herself if she refused to cooperate.

Her mind went back to her classroom advice to her students. The classes from the security mentor at the school, where they were advised that when faced with rape that was inevitable, it was better abandon resistance than risk the brutality that would certainly follow. It seemed so logical in the classroom. Why was it so difficult to accept when it happened in real life?

His fingers roughly probed her labia. Contrary to all those good rape stories, her vagina was bone dry. He spat into his hand, spreading saliva across her vulva, forcing the fluid inside her for lubrication. Positioning himself at her entrance and with his anger rising with frustration (why was this not going as he had imagined it?) he slammed his rock hard penis into her in one brutal thrust.

She screamed with pain at the intrusion, which seemed to pacify him a little, and he began pistoning into her, spreading his precum against her inner walls, and sparking a lubricating response from Leanne in spite of herself. Their coupling was grim. She was totally unresponsive, taking all he had to give without any physical reaction or comment.

With a bellow he emptied himself into her depths and apparently satisfied, stood up and looking contemptuously at his victim while he started drawing up his slacks.

"I knew you'd be a lousy fuck."

"You knew nothing, you freak," she spat angrily back at him, suppressing a grin when his wallet spilled out of the pocket of his slacks, spilling its contents over the ground. A business card fluttered towards Leanne's side and she quickly covered it with the remnants of her skirt while he was chasing bank notes which threatened to blow away.

Scrambling frantically after the fluttering banknotes, he finally gathered up the last of the wallet's contents, straightened himself up, buckled his belt and casually gave her a kick to the hip as he returned to his car and drove away.

As soon as he closed his car door, Leanne sat up and took a good look at the car he was driving, especially the number plate.

CHAPTER 2

Leanne was shattered. Her body ached all over. Her vagina felt as though she had been cleaned out with a stiff bristled brush. Her hip was swelling where the thug had kicked her as a parting gesture, and she was still stuck on the roadside with an empty tank.

Finding her cellphone, she dialled roadside assist and giving them her location, arranged for a fuel drop. Because she was on a country road, they said, it might be an hour or so before help arrived.

That gave Leanne time to consider her options. She wrote down the make and colour of the thug's car and also its number plate, and tucked it into her handbag, along with the business card that he failed to recover after it fell from his wallet.

Call the police? Call home? Call the school?

Some forty minutes later, without a single vehicle having passed by on the lonely back road, she was relieved to see the orange flashing light of the assistance van as it rolled around the corner. The concerned driver took one look at Leanne's dishevelled appearance and asked whether she felt alright.

Giving him some assurances, she watched as he emptied a fuel can into the car's tank, started Leanne's car for her and with a bemused expression on his face, waved her on her way.

While driving, a plan formed in her mind. The business card, if indeed it belonged to her rapist, gave his name, cellphone number and the company he worked for. That was a good start. Even if that failed, she was confident that he could be tracked by using his car registration.

With a fresh determination, she pulled off the road and picked up her phone. Scrolling through her address book, she found the number she needed and called.

"Sally?" she started. "I know it's late and I know I don't have an appointment, but this is really important and urgent. Can I come to see you right now? I'm driving home from a bush camp we've run for the past week and can be there in about fifteen minutes."

After a short pause, she started talking again. "Sally, you know I would not be asking you this unless it was serious." Another pause, then: "Thanks Sally. I'll be there in fifteen."

Fifteen minutes later she stepped gingerly into the doctor's waiting room. The receptionist, noting her condition, immediately jumped from behind her counter, took Leanne by the arm and led her into a vacant examination room, sat her in a chair and told her to wait. Within moments, the doctor walked in.

"Christ Leanne! What happened to you?" she said with concern.

"Long story, Sal. I was dumb, ran out of gas, and was raped by a goon passing by. I came straight here."

"Fine. I'll call the police."

"No Sal, please don't do that. There will be statements to make, invasive examinations, court appearances, and in the end, it will be his word against mine and he might well go free."

Sally nodded a begrudging acceptance. "So?"

"I'm still full of his sperm, Sally. Do a DNA test on it, please. Then check me out for STD's and pregnancy. I don't want any unwelcome presents on top of what he's done to me."

A few days later, a courier delivery arrived for Leanne, containing a detailed DNA analysis, a negative STD certificate and a report to confirm that the pregnancy test requested by the patient was also negative.

That evening Leanne was nestled into a comfortable booth in a dim corner of a local bar. Her companion was a giant of a man, perhaps six foot six or so, wearing black jeans, heavy studded motor cycle boots, a black tee shirt with the name of a heavy metal band emblazoned on the chest, and an open leather waistcoat adorned with silver chains. His head was clean shaven. Tough. A bikie.

The pair talked quietly for a long time. He looked at the stuff she had brought with her. He examined the business card carefully, noting the name of the card holder was John Sampson, a sales agent with Affro Chemical Company. Leanne vaguely knew of the organisation, which supplied agricultural chemicals to the farming community.

"Affro Chemicals," a bright female voice chirped on the phone next morning. "How may I help you?"

"I would like to speak with John Sampson please."

"One moment please."

John Sampson answered his phone on the second ring.

"Is that John Sampson?" his caller began.

"Yes, who's calling?"

"It doesn't matter who. Just know that payback is a bitch. Do you believe in karma?"

"Look I don't have time for games. Who's speaking?"

All he heard was the dial tone.

Sampson shuddered as he slipped the phone back into its cradle. Who the hell would that have been, he wondered. Were they threatening him? His thoughts drifted back to the day he had the woman by the forest. The stupid bitch that had let her fuel tank run dry. No, he decided. If she was going to do anything about the incident, she would have called the cops when she got back to town. Eventually he put it down to a crank call and got on with the job.

Sampson did not notice, when he drove out of the factory parking area that night, that a small car was parked on the street near the entrance. The driver watched him as he passed by, with a wry smile as she recognised her rapist.

Several weeks passed.

One Thursday evening, as he did every Tuesday and Thursday after work, Sampson parked his car in the driveway to his house, disappeared inside and emerged some minutes later in his jogging outfit, striding out purposefully into the fading light. Returning home he was surprised to see a lone female walking along the footpath, about half a mile from his house.

He was even more surprised when he came closer, to recognise the girl he had brutalised a month earlier. His smirk was obvious.

"What, come to get some more, have ya, love?"

Leanne backed away from him as he closed in.

He was not aware that they had company until a deep voice boomed out behind him.

"Everything alright here?"

Sampson responded immediately. "Yeah, it's all good. My little friend here was just saying how much she enjoys my company."

Leanne's face remained expressionless but she held his gaze without comment.

"You conceited lump of shit," Leanne barked at him.

"Aww don't be like that. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want some more of me."

It still had not dawned on him that under normal circumstances, Leanne would have no idea of where he lived. He quickly wrapped a possessive arm around her shoulder and started groping her breast with his free hand.

He didn't even see the baseball bat that shattered the two bones just below the knee. Without the support of the broken leg, he slumped to the ground with a groan.

"I don't believe you, you weasel. First you rape an innocent woman, then threaten to do it again. Do you have a death wish?"

Sampson was now seated on the pathway, backing away, dragging his broken leg. Recognition was slowly entering his consciousness. The threatening phone call several weeks ago was starting to make sense.

The big guy stood silently, the baseball bat resting carelessly against his leg. Leanne's gloved hand reached for Sampson's cord belt and flicked it loose. He groaned again as she roughly drew his running shorts down his legs.

"Let's get this over with," she murmured.

Taking his limp penis in a firm grip, she pulled it upwards towards his midriff to expose his ball sac.

"Listen to me limp dick," she began as she rolled her knee into his kidney. "Tomorrow there will be a copy of a DNA certificate delivered by courier to your boss. It will be accompanied by a lawyer's letter demanding your immediate resignation. It will further be demanding the deposit of a very large sum of money to the Women's Shelter which caters for victims of rape, or the story of how Affro Chemicals condones its sales staff raping innocent citizens will be in the hands of all major media outlets with a full doctor's sworn report before the end of the day. You, meanwhile, have had the misfortune to be hit by a car while you were crossing the road during your evening jog, and I can promise you that you will NEVER again be guilty of rape after today."

For emphasis, she put all her weight onto the knee that was crushing his kidney. Her gloved hand descended on his mouth to stifle his agonised scream.

In his agony, Sampson had not even noticed that the girl's husband had moved in close. As Leanne tightened her grip on the rapist's limp penis, drawing it upwards towards his midriff, the end of the baseball bat came down vertically onto the rapist's exposed scrotum. There was no scream this time. He simply lost consciousness and slowly sank backwards onto the path.

Leanne released her grip on the man's penis with an expression of disgust and waited for him to regain consciousness.

"This is my husband, you asshole. Your limp dick is the only one that has ever been inside me since the day we were married. I hope it was worth it, you scrawny weasel. I will now call 911 and report seeing an injured man. When they arrive, remember that you are the victim of a hit and run. I doubt that you would want us to pay you another visit."

Leanne pulled up Sampson's shorts and left him where he lay. The couple quietly walked a short distance to her waiting car and drove away, stopping at a payphone to call an ambulance to attend to what seemed to be a hit and run victim.

For the first time in weeks, Leanne looked at her husband and smiled. He had been so patient with her, understanding her reluctance to engage in any form of sex play and desperately trying to contain his anger after the rapist had been identified.

Leanne locked the car door and as she turned to head to the house, she felt herself swept up by her husband. Her arms fastened around his neck and she touched her lips to his in a gentle kiss. He carried her into the house and the kiss intensified.

"Take me upstairs," Leanne pleaded. "I'm sorry I've been so uncooperative for so long my Darling. I'm ready now. It's all over. Make love to me -- if you still want to."

He threw her onto their bed and stripped her of her clothing in record time. Her bruises were gone. She looked serene. And worried.

Rolling onto the bed fully clothed, he wrapped her up in his brawny arms, just holding her close, letting her sob silently as the demons left her system. Tentatively, Leanne reached for his belt and loosened his jeans. He was rock hard.

"Take me please, take me now," she pleaded, bringing her mouth to his and kissing him deeply.

His rough fingers felt for her folds, spreading them and finding her soaking wet in anticipation.

"It's over," he murmured as he gently entered her. "God, I love you."

Epilogue:

A week or so later, Leanne's doctor rang.

"Hi Leanne -- it's Sally. I have some news that you might be interested in. A week ago the hospital admitted a hit and run victim. It was an unusual case in that there were no skid marks on the roadway and although he sustained a badly broken right leg, his other injuries do not seem consistent with a strike by a motor vehicle. Police have searched panel beaters in the area for a car showing signs of contact with a pedestrian but have drawn a blank. There were no witnesses. I was called in to provide advice on how to treat the victim's serious genital injuries and as part of that received a full set of blood screens, including DNA. When the data was keyed into the database at my practice, it immediately threw up a perfect match. Leanne, the guy in hospital is your rapist. No doubt about it. I can now report the matter to the police and they'll lock him up and throw away the key."

"Thanks, Sally, but no! I was not prepared then and am still not prepared now, to go through the trauma of a court appearance and the publicity that will go with it. Will the guy recover?"

"Oh, yes, he will walk again and his broken leg will heal perfectly. Elsewhere, not so good. His testicles were so badly crushed that they had to be removed. He is neutered. Although he might possibly get an erection, he will never father any children. In all probability he will also suffer from anxiety and may well become obese later in life. Strange thing, though. His boss came to the hospital the day after his admission. I don't know exactly what was said but I heard him say something about bringing shame on the company and costing them a fortune. He was fired on the spot and his boss appeared agitated and angry when he left. Seems like justice was done after all."

"Sally, I have to confess that things were a little shaky on the home front for a while. I could not face the prospect of having sex but I am so lucky to have such a kind and understanding husband. We have both put this saga behind us now, but your call has given me closure. Thank you for all you've done for us."