Leisl Ch. 04

"No Chris, I swear, it's just biological! I'm desperate, please, please don't do this to me! Please don't rape me!" As I whimpered my pleas, helpless against his thrusting into me, he roughly pulled my dress down over my tits, and shoving aside my bra cups, exposed my breasts to his nipping teeth.

"Ha! Too fucking bad. There's nothing you can do about it now, bitch. You are getting fucking raped, and I am going to keep raping you until I get sick of you." He had one hand squeezing my naked breast painfully, the other hand using my hair as leverage as he pumped in and out of my cunt, hard and rough. "But seeing your hot fucking body, all helpless and pathetic like this, your huge fucking tits jiggling about like that, your body splayed out for my personal use, I really don't think I'm going to be finished raping you for a very long time."

If anyone had asked me, at that moment, to describe how Chris was making me feel, I don't think I could have even strung a coherent sentence together. I have always gotten off on words, hearing them, using them, and he knew it. His words were driving me closer to the edge with every sentence. His litany was probably repetitive, vulgar, unpolished, and my responses probably didn't make much sense. But despite that, it worked. He kept using the word 'rape', and just that word alone was making me insane with lust.

That's not to say there wasn't some doubt. He fucked me for what felt like ages, not looking at me, his body pumping rhythmically, silently; he was using me as though I was a new maturbation toy he'd just bought. He moved his hand from my breast to my face, wrapping it around my mouth, preventing me from talking, sobbing, screaming if I'd been so inclined. There was a part of me, a small voice, that wondered if this really was just a game, for him. Was the message on the mirror just a way to make his rape easier, to manipulate me into giving in to his assault? Just as I had wondered earlier if his friendly, open personality would make it impossible for me to believe he could be dangerous, now I wondered if even that had been a ruse, to encourage me to drop my guard, so that now he could enjoy himself unrestricted in my body.

It crossed my mind, as I lay helpless under his heaving weight, my head twisted to the side and my mouth clamped shut with his strong hand, if I should test my theory. If I said the magical word, Forest, would he stop? Would he laugh and continue? Would he get angry and attack me? But if it was just a game, would my saying Forest only halt the proceedings, make him change magically back into the friend I met for coffee, make any semblance of this delicious game disappear forever? I couldn't do that, not when he'd planned everything so well to appeal so perfectly to my acknowledged desires and fantasies.

He kept fucking, kept pounding away; I caught him looking at me, and he jerked his head away, buried his face in my shoulder again. I didn't know what I thought anymore. I didn't know which was his real persona, couldn't be sure anymore whether what was happening was reality or game. I knew Justin could return home at any time; surely if Chris wanted to abuse me for real he wouldn't chance it here, at his home? Maybe he would, or maybe it really was an elaborate gift to me, all this doubt only deepening the immersion. I decided to focus on his hair, as he had tucked it behind his ear; his face when he saw I wasn't sitting at the cafe table, worried and vulnerable. He was a good person, an ordinary man, with doubts and fears himself. And an unrestrained, kinky mind I wanted to share this experience with. I decided not to chance the safeword, to trust this was a fantastical fuck, and not nefarious. The man in the cafe, I wanted to fuck me. That man, I couldn't get enough of. In all honesty, all I wanted at that moment was to be his fucktoy, his rape doll, for as long as he wanted.

"Violating you like this turns me on so much. I fucking love knowing that you don't want me, but I'm taking you anyway. Fucking cock teases get what they fucking deserve, don't they?" I whimpered. "DON'T THEY?" He yelled, and slapped me again, hard, with his other hand this time, the other cheek now reddened and burning. He sat up, his cock still shoved up my cunt, and used both hands to slap me repeatedly across the face. I struggled to speak in between blows.

"Yes, (slap) I'm sorry! (slap) I shouldn't (slap) have teased you!"

"And why's that? Hmm?" He paused in his assault on my face to ask me the taunting question.

"Because (slap) I was being (slap) a cock tease (slap) and ... and ..." In a fog of arousal, I ran out of explanation.

He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled, viciously. "Because you fucking know what you do to men, how you make them feel, and you fucking selfishly keep your holes to yourself! You act like your body is so sacred, but I'm here to show you it's made for fucking, just a series of holes for me to dump my come into. Fucking perfect for that use," he concluded, almost to himself, as he kept slamming his cock into me, still holding a fistful of my hair and savagely pinching my nipple with the other hand.

"Look, you obviously can't even understand, you seem to think you should have sole control over your fucking cunt, so there's no point even fucking talking to you," He pulled out of me, with a wet sucking sound, and I thought maybe he was going to stop. Thankfully, all he did was reposition himself over my face, his glistening cock bouncing an inch from my lips. "So you should just stop fucking talking at all, and use your whore mouth for its proper purpose." As he shoved it into my mouth, I gagged slightly - it was really wide, and I wasn't in the ideal position for this.

After a few seconds, he seemed to realise this too, and pulled out again. I thought I hadn't done very well, and maybe he'd be disappointed in my performance as a cocksucker. But he looked up, and around the room, and grabbed my wrist painfully in one hand. He dragged me bodily across the floor, over to the couch. He seized my shoulders roughly, pulling me up but not giving me a chance to balance, before shoving me across the couch. My head was at the end that didn't have an arm to it, and he silently and roughly pushed me so that my body laid along the couch, and my head hung upside down off the end, my hair brushing the floor.

"Fuck. Perfect. Yes," He said to himself, as he knelt again inches from my face, his cock now standing hard and slick against my inverted chin. This time when he shoved it in my mouth, the angle was much better, and I took his length in my throat easily. He began face fucking me, hard and angry.

"Fucking perfect. Your mouth was fucking made to suck cock. Goddammit, I can see where my cock is going down your throat. Fucking take it, yes," he rambled. He put one hand around my throat, not choking me this time, but just resting there, so that each time he thrust into me, the end of his cock touched his fingers. He abused me like this for a long time, his grunts and moans evidence of his intense enjoyment of raping my mouth. I loved knowing he could see my throat bulge out where his cock distended the flesh, over and over again as he pounded against my mouth, and I longed to rub my pussy while he fucked my face. Somehow I knew he wouldn't like me trying that.

"Oh, fucking god, you dirty fucking cunt. Your throat is so much fucking tighter than your pussy. I could fuck you like this for hours," He pushed harder into my mouth with every thrust, and grabbed my breasts for leverage to shove himself further into my face. "Much better than hearing your fucking whimpering. Although, come to think of it, making you cry was so fucking hot. I'll have to think of something else that'll make you cry those beautiful big tears, spoiling that pretty makeup of yours."

With this, he finally let up his abuse of my throat, and pulled out.

"What else could I do that could make you cry? Assault your asshole? You liked that last week, didn't you, my boyfriend's cock fucking your tight little ass, but I reckon I could make it even better. For me, that is," As he spoke, he came around to stand beside me, lying spread on the couch where he'd flung me like a doll. He grabbed my hips and flipped me over. Then he just stood there, while I faced the floor, waiting for his next move, but he seemingly did nothing for a moment. I heard sounds, a jingle of metal, then the snck of plastic, and then a wet sound I couldn't identify. I wondered what he was planning to do, what he was preparing to inflict on me next.

Face down, I had to prop myself up to bend my head around to see him. My dress was bunched up around my hips, his cock stood erect from his waistband; he hadn't removed his pants, just unbuckled the belt, and pulled his cock over the top of his underwear. It glistened wetly as he slid his hand up and down his shaft. He seemed to like seeing me laid out like this for him, a buffet to be enjoyed at his pleasure.

"You want to watch, cunt? You want to see the moment I violate your asshole without permission? Ha, twisted bitch, fine, you can watch." He straddled me, knelt on the couch with me beneath him, between his knees. He yanked down my underwear, and they stayed there, hooked under the curve of my ass. He grabbed a fistful of my hair again - I liked that, it was dominant and painful and controlling, perfect - then rubbed his cock a few more times, quickly and wetly.

I could barely see what he was doing, watching him out of the corner of my eye, my head twisted painfully around and unable to move, held as it was by his grip on my hair. He watched my face closely as he drew his hand down to my ass, and inserted first one, then two, then three shiny wet fingers between my cheeks, and into my hole. He didn't thrust forcefully, as he had with my cunt, but instead pushed inside me slowly, so slowly I heard myself moan, and found myself wishing he would give me more, faster. I closed my eyes in anticipation of the delicious sensation, his fingers inside my asshole, and when he saw my mouth open and my eyes flutter shut he laughed again, coldly.

"You fucking love this. You've stopped pretending to yourself you don't want to be fucking used. You crave this, don't you, my little slut, you want me to violate you, don't you? Hmm? You want my hard cock inside your ass? Yeah? Well in any other circumstance, I might have gotten you to beg me. To hear you plead pathetically for me to ram myself up you. But you know what? I don't fucking care if you want me to or not. It's what I'm going to do, no point pretending anything you say can change that."

He grabbed his cock again, and aimed it between my ass cheeks. He slowly slid his entire shaft into my hole, and I understood finally what the sounds had been that I'd heard. Lube. Lots of it. Silent proof, as the lipstick message had been, that he was still Chris. Despite my desire to lose myself in this fantasy, I was relieved he wasn't going to fuck my ass dry. He knew that wouldn't have been ok, would have been a guaranteed safeword.

As his cock slid into me the whole way, he paused there a moment, his eyes closed for just a second, and he seemed to just savour the sensation. For a second, he was himself again - then he opened them and grinned at me again, evilly. He began thrusting, hard, and yanked on my hair to emphasise his words.

"How does it feel, slut, being my three holed little whore? I've enjoyed all your holes now, but I think your ass might be my favourite. Raping your ass is what I have been dreaming of doing to you ever since the moment we met. I never wanted your permission, all I wanted was to take it. As soon as I saw you, I thought, fuck I want her asshole, and I sure as fuck don't want her to give it to me willingly."

He chuckled coldly at this, and kept pumping at me, ramming his cock hard into me, again and again. The feeling was exquisite, and I couldn't help but make little whimpering noises every time his pelvis hit my round ass. Finally, he let go of my hair, and my head dropped back down so I was staring at the couch fabric. I gripped the cushion, hard, and lost myself in the feeling of his hands, spreading my cheeks wide, so that presumably he could watch as his cock disappeared into my hole, over and over. As he fucked me, I lost myself in the moment, feeling only the fullness of his cock inside me, and knowing only that I loved it. With every thrust, I made a little sound, and he didn't tell me to 'shut the fuck up', so I took a chance, and risked a few words to heighten the experience.

"Oh, god, Chris, why are you doing this to me? I can't believe you're fucking my ass, you're raping my asshole." It wasn't so much what I said, which was uninspired, but using the taboo words, hearing the filthy fantasy out loud that turned me on. And Chris too, from the way he sped up his thrusting when he heard it.

"Fuck, bitch, I'm using you how I want, for my own fucking pleasure. Your ass is just a fuckhole for me to use, just a toy for me to spurt my come into, deep inside you, ohhh, god yes ..." I could feel his shudders as he spoke, his convulsions as he reached his climax. His thrusts became irregular, and deeper, as he finally pumped his delicious load into my body. I moaned loudly as he rammed hard, one last time, and stayed there. His breathing was heavy and shaky.

He folded his torso over my back, and rested his head on my spine for a few moments, shivering occasionally. His skin was slick against mine, the shared sweat of exertion. Then he slowly, slowly pulled out. I collapsed on my belly on the scratchy seat.

"Wait there." His words were neither very harsh, nor particularly tender. A segue, I guessed, in his transition back to humanity. He stepped off the couch and went into the bathroom, and shut the door. I lay where I had fallen, exhausted and aroused, sweaty on the couch.

Chris came back in a few moments, and carefully, gently laid himself beside me, body to body, his arm tucked under him like a wing, his other hand around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I turned so I faced him, our noses almost touching. He looked at me for a long second, reached up and gently stroked my hair. He kissed me, softly, twice, three times, and pulled back again to look at me. He looked in my eyes, and was silent for a moment.

"That was our first kiss," he whispered. "Are you ok? I hope you're ok."

He looked so needy for a moment, my heart went out to him. I rushed to reassure him of the truth.

"Of course! That was ... magnificent. Just so, so perfect. You are amazing at that. I enjoyed it so much, more than you would believe."

"Can I confess something to you?"

I was unsure of what he was about to tell me. Was he afraid I would judge him? That I would like him less now? Was he worried he'd enjoyed it too much? "Of course," I said.

"I have ... never done that before. But I have always wanted to."

"Never? That was your first time doing rape play?"

"Yeah. I have always fantasised about it, but honestly, I thought it kind of made me a monster."

"Did you ever want to rape anyone for real?"

"No!" he said, visibly disturbed. "No, in my fantasies it was always with someone I knew, always consensual play, but how can it be consensual if it's rape? I've always been a bit fucked up about it."

"Chris, look at me," He looked so vulnerable as he hesitantly looked into my eyes. I kissed him again. "I need you to know, I loved every minute of what just happened. I absolutely and utterly loved it. You managed, on your first go no less, to find the perfect balance between reality and fantasy. Any less real would still have been fantastic fun, but any more real and I swear I would have safeworded. I was so close to it, but I decided to trust you. I didn't want you to stop."

He released a breath I hadn't realised he'd been holding. "That is so good to hear, Leisl. I knew if we got to know each other better before doing this, it wouldn't have been as ... effective, I guess. I got the idea while we were in the park. I was just so overwhelmed, this crazy, insane fantasy, that I have always kept inside me, and there was this gorgeous, sexy, extraordinary woman telling me it was her fantasy too. The opportunity to realise it, to live it, and have you enjoy it, it was just unbelievable. I'm sorry, I'm babbling," he blushed slightly, "I am just so happy it worked out like this, I am so glad I could give you your fantasy; that I could share an experience like that with someone like you. You are ... incredible."

He stroked my hair, my face, my shoulder, my neck. He was so tender, so sweet, trying to ensure I was ok. I found myself overwhelmed with affection for him. I kissed him again, longer this time, deeply and passionately. Our first kiss, real kiss. It suddenly felt like something more could come from this. I wasn't sure, in that moment, what I wanted it to become, but I knew for certain I wanted Chris in my life.