Mock Rape, Inc.

Melissa awoke suddenly, but not suddenly enough. By the time she gathered her wits, she was bound, gagged, blindfolded, and being carried off on someone’s shoulder. Then she was stuffed in the trunk of a car. The car drove off.

Malcolm drove to the loft apartment he had rented for the purpose. It was the only occupied space in a large old industrial building, so no one noticed or cared that it was also unoccupied most of the time. This part of town was mostly deserted at night. Malcolm pulled up to the loading dock, opened the trunk, and carried Melissa inside.

Once inside, Malcolm dressed Melissa in her slave outfit and locked chains on her wrists and ankles. He donned his mask, then removed Melissa’s blindfold.

“Prepare my breakfast, slave,” Malcolm instructed her. He smacked her sharply on the butt with a crop. Melissa squealed and hurried off to her task.

Malcolm was familiar with Melissa’s tastes. No matter how well she performed, he would find fault and poor Melissa would have to be punished. Melissa would become increasingly aroused through several repetitions of this cycle until she was ready to burst. Malcolm would then assign her some particularly onerous task which would take her several attempts to accomplish. She would become a little more desperate with each failure. When she finally succeeded, Malcolm would tie her down and fuck her. Tying her down was essential. Melissa would go crazy and even bound, it was all Malcolm could do to keep her impaled.

In spite of her final exertions, Melissa was one of Malcolm’s less taxing customers. She would do most of the work herself. Malcolm would simply assign tasks, punish her when she botched them (which was always the case), then step in at the end and finish her off.

Malcolm always came back well fed from his sojourns with Melissa. She was an excellent cook and he took full advantage of the fact. He always felt like a jerk finding fault with what she had prepared, but that was the game. It was not lost on Melissa that her punishment was delayed until Malcolm had eaten everything in sight.

Tuesday night, Malcolm returned Melissa to her house. Both were well fed, well satisfied, and generally enervated. Malcolm wondered if he could get arrested for getting paid to have this much fun. Yes, he probably could. The government wasn’t all that thrilled with the whole idea of sex, and getting paid for it was just more than they could stand. Actually it wasn’t sex per se that bothered them. What pissed them off was other people having sex.

What pissed Malcolm off was Manfred. The couple of days with Melissa had reminded him what a wonderful deal he had going. Manfred was not going to be allowed to screw this up. But short of knocking the guy off, he didn’t have any good ideas. He briefly toyed with the idea of doing Manfred in, but he just didn’t see himself as the sort of person who killed people. Besides, no matter how careful he was, there was the chance it would be traced back to him. Even if he felt so inclined, it wasn’t worth the risk.

Malcolm worked the rest of the week at his temp job. Friday night he took possession of Cindy, the other contract he had pending. Cindy’s thing was being tied up. She spent the weekend tightly bound in one position or another. Malcolm would add some little irritant to each situation to make her squirm. This emphasized her helplessness and drove her crazy. Malcolm liked to tickle her. She hated that, which was why it was so effective. He would tie her down and tickle her until she nearly lost her lunch. At that point merely running his hand up between her legs would send her into screaming fits. A good fucking would leave her gasping and nearly unconscious. It had taken a number of attempts to find the right combination, and Cindy had to be brought along in just the right way. It had finally all come together when he had realized that what worked was what she objected to most strenuously. She not only had to be stringently bound, but she had to be made to experience her helplessness by being subjected to things she didn’t like but was forced by her bondage to endure. In Cindy’s case, ‘no’ usually meant ‘yes’.

Malcolm took Cindy home on Sunday night. Monday, he was at a new temp job. He still didn’t have any good ideas about Manfred. Tuesday evening he paid a visit to Grace. She hadn’t had any further contact from Manfred, but invited Malcolm in for coffee. She seemed desperate for company and reassurance.

Grace’s phone rang. “Hello. Yes, sir...yes...alright, I will...yes, sir.” Grace had turned white, her face completely drained of color.

“It’s him,” she said to Malcolm. “He’s coming over. You’ve got to go.”

“Maybe I should stay.”

“Are you crazy! You can’t imagine what he’ll do to me if he finds someone here. Now go.” Grace pushed Malcolm out the door, then ran to the bedroom.

Malcolm walked down to the first floor, then thought better of it and returned. He opened the door to find Grace in the middle of the room. She wore only stockings and panties. Her back was to the door. She was blindfolded and stood stiffly erect with her hands clasped tightly behind her. She stiffened even more when she heard the door. Malcolm simply stared.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me,” said Malcolm.

“Oh, god, no. He’ll be here any minute. Get out, get out, get out, get out,” she screamed. Grace attacked Malcolm furiously, pushing and pummeling until he was out the door. She slammed and locked it.

Malcolm left. He pulled his car to the far end of the lot and waited. A few minutes later, the green Toyota pulled into the lot. Manfred got out and went inside.

Malcolm realized that he knew where Manfred was going to be for the next few hours. He cruised over to Manfred’s house and walked up to the front door. There was a keypad next to the door. Malcolm didn’t know enough to defeat the alarm, so he left. Setting it off would alert Manfred to the fact that someone had been there. Malcolm went by his mail drop. One of his return envelopes had arrived. Once again, Malcolm could find no evidence of tampering. He opened the envelope to find a contract and a check from Claire. He was surprised to have heard from her this soon. She must have gotten a promotion and a raise in the year since he’d worked at her place. He looked over her form. Except for her name and code word, it was blank. No X’s or O’s. She was leaving it completely up to him. He started planning her fantasy. It might help keep his mind off whatever was happening to Grace.

It wasn’t working. He was trying to design a delicious little interlude for Claire, but he just couldn’t get Grace out of his mind. If he continued under these conditions, Claire might receive a considerably darker fantasy than was appropriate. Malcolm was feeling guilty about having left Grace. It had been her choice, and she had been adamant in that choice, but he still felt like he should do something. He knew better. Even if he stopped Manfred this time, there would be a next time. He couldn’t watch Grace 24 hours a day. If Manfred was thwarted this time, he would take it out on Grace next time. His interference would only make Grace’s situation worse. The best thing he could do for Grace was put a permanent stop to Manfred’s activities.

Malcolm was still clueless. To stop Manfred, he needed to know what Manfred’s vulnerabilities were. Manfred was a major slimeball. He actively sought out people’s weaknesses and exploited them when he found them. Malcolm wondered if that was any different from what he himself did. Was catering to people’s desires any different from exploiting their weaknesses? Weren’t all desires weaknesses? And wasn’t he himself exploiting them? Malcolm decided that there may be a fine line between exploiting weaknesses and catering to desires, but he and Manfred were definitely on opposite sides of it. Malcolm went to bed.

After work the next day, Malcolm went to visit Grace. She looked haggard and had been crying. She was wearing the same robe she had had on when Malcolm had first seen her. She appeared utterly defeated.

“Grace, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Grace let her robe fall open. There was a heavy gold ring through each nipple.

“Those weren’t there last night, were they?”

“Not when you were here.”

“Well, they’re very pretty,” Malcolm lied, not knowing what else to say.

“Yeah, right. He didn't put them there to look nice. He put them there so he can use them to hurt me.”

“What brought this on?” “I forgot to put away the coffee cups. He saw them and wanted to know who I’d been seeing. I told him it was none of his business, that I was entitled to have my friends over if I pleased. So I was punished.”

“And he put rings in your nipples.”

“Among other things.”

“What other things?”

Grace turned her back and winced as she let her robe slide off her shoulders. Her back was a mass of welts, some scabbed over. She had been savagely beaten.

“You need to see a doctor. Those could leave scars.”

“Yeah, right.”

Malcolm made a few comforting noises, then left. Being around Grace was just too painful. It also made Malcolm feel guilty. He should have done something, should have stopped it. Still, it had been Grace’s choice. Malcolm couldn’t imagine what Manfred might have on her that would make this preferable to having her secret revealed.

It was obvious Manfred’s behavior was becoming increasingly extreme. Malcolm had stopped soliciting new business for fear of what Manfred would do to his next new customer. What to do, what to do.

Manfred was a bully. Malcolm was familiar with the personality type. The way to deal with a bully was a good hard punch in the nose. Most bullies were cowards and would back down in the face of a credible threat.

Thursday, Malcolm dropped by one of the dinner theaters in town and found an actor with a particularly nasty voice. Malcolm hired the man to make a cassette recording. Then he dropped by an electronic supply house and purchased a lineman’s hand set.

Then Malcolm turned his attention to Claire. Claire’s new fantasy would take place tonight, and he needed to make plans for it. Claire was a new customer and he hadn’t yet found out exactly what she liked. Her application forms hadn’t been all that informative. She seemed to like nearly everything he’d done the last time, but last time had been the first time. She hadn’t known what it would be like, so everything was new and exciting. As time went on, he would need to discover and focus in on the things that turned her on the most. He decided to take a page from Manfred’s book.

It was nearly midnight on Thursday when Claire’s phone rang. “Hello.”

“Hello, Claire. This is Malcolm. Your adventure has begun. Follow these instructions precisely and immediately.”

Claire was standing in the middle of her living room. She wore only panties and stockings and her back was to the front door. She had tied a scarf over her eyes and her hands were clasped tightly behind her. She waited.

Claire was startled when the front door opened. There had been no preliminary sounds. No car or car door. The front door had simply opened. She felt her wrists being lashed together, then nothing. She waited.

Malcolm was admiring Claire. She stood there silently, waiting for him to do something. She was so beautiful, just standing there. Malcolm was torn between wanting to pounce on her and wanting to spend the rest of his life just gazing upon her like this. He circled her slowly. Then he stepped close and kissed her.

Claire was mildly disappointed with her fantasy. She was kept bound most of the time, but other than that, Malcolm had been very gentle. It had been very nice, even sweet, but it didn’t touch the things in her that had been touched when she first received the card.

Malcolm had been more deeply affected by his last encounter with Grace than he had realized. He couldn’t bring himself to be anything other than gentle and solicitous with Claire. He was fairly certain she had enjoyed it, but it was hardly a dark fantasy.

“Claire,” said Malcolm. “I know this wasn’t quite what you were expecting, so I’m going to give you a repeat encounter at no charge. But I do have a favor to ask. I need you to make a phone call.”

Malcolm hurried home. It was past midnight on Friday, and the call needed to be on the tape that Manfred picked up on Saturday.

Malcolm had Monday off. He made the rounds of Manfred’s wire taps with his lineman’s phone and a cassette machine. The lineman’s phone had a wire that terminated in a pair of alligator clips. He simply clipped them on to any pair of terminals in the building’s junction box and the phone was connected to that line. There were five active taps including his own. Three of them had been moved since he had first seen them. They were all obviously exploratory. The only ones Manfred was acting on were his and Grace’s.

Malcolm connected his phone to each tapped line and played the cassette into it. He could have connected the cassette directly, but he wanted it to sound as if the message had come in over the phone. The message was simple, but the voice was deep, nasty, and threatening. “Hello, Manfred. We know who you are, we know what you do, and we know where you live. By the time you hear this message, it will be too late.”

It was Friday night. Claire sat in her living room in the dark. Malcolm sat in a chair by the door. Claire’s phone call to Malcolm had requested another fantasy, but specified a very narrow time window. She had said she would be out of town all week, home for the weekend, then gone again the next week. She would be in town Friday afternoon, but could he please make it Saturday or Sunday? This would give Manfred only Friday night in which to act.

The front door eased open. It had been unlocked. Manfred stuck his head in, but didn’t see Malcolm behind the door. As Manfred stepped in, Malcolm punched him in the face as hard as he could. Manfred was slightly larger than Malcolm, but Malcolm had the element of surprise and just kept punching. Malcolm’s sense of fair play was not in the least offended by blind-siding Manfred. Not knowing who or what he was facing, Manfred turned and fled.

“I’ll get you, you bitch,” he yelled as ran toward his car.

“Malcolm, you said there wouldn’t be any repercussions,” Claire complained.

“There won’t. Wait till he hears those tapes tomorrow. Right now he thinks the problem is here. After tomorrow, he won’t be able to identify any single source.”

It was nearly midnight when Grace’s phone rang. She had been expecting it. Malcolm had warned her that after his encounter at Claire’s, Manfred might want to take out his anger on her. After she hung up, she made a phone call of her own. She let it ring twice, then hung up.

During the week, Malcolm had contacted each of Manfred’s victims, shown them the taps on their phone lines, and explained some of what was going on. The other three besides Grace and himself had been an elderly couple, a young couple, and a rather large single man named Mike. They had all been incensed by the invasion of their privacy.

Malcolm had taken Mike to meet Grace. After some coaxing, Grace had removed her blouse and shown Mike her back. Mike had given Grace his home and pager numbers. His building was only a mile from Grace’s and he had instructed her to call him any time of day or night if she heard from Manfred.

Grace was standing blindfolded in her panties and stockings as usual when Manfred entered. As Manfred stepped toward her, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

After giving Manfred a thorough pounding, Mike had wanted to throw him out the window. Grace had talked him out of it and Mike had had to content himself with tossing him down the stairs. Manfred had painfully limped and crawled out to his car and driven off. Mike returned to Grace’s apartment. To his disappointment, Grace had put on her robe. He was, however, pleased when she offered him coffee. Grace was happy to be able to offer coffee to whomever she pleased, and she did find Michael pleasing (although after Manfred, just about anyone would be).

Malcolm followed Manfred the next day as he collected his tapes. Manfred was running a little later than usual and limped rather painfully. Today he was wary, and looked around as he entered and left each building. He failed to recognize Malcolm in his rental car and disguise.

Malcolm thought Manfred would be surprised when each of the tapes he had collected contained a threat from the same unknown person. Considering that he had been attacked twice in the same evening, maybe he wouldn’t be all that surprised. At this point, the threat was universal. Manfred would be unable to fix blame on any one individual.

Manfred received an additional surprise on Monday when he was fired from the phone company. The elderly couple had called the phone company and raised hell. They had also filed criminal charges. The following day, Malcolm saw a report in the paper that a green Toyota had been riddled with bullets. No one knew who had done this. Malcolm had checked with all the others and learned they were all at work when it had happened. They all had solid alibis and had assumed Malcolm had done it.

The following week, Malcolm drove by Manfred’s house. There was a realtor’s sign out front and the place looked deserted. Malcolm called the realtor. She didn’t know the owner, but reported he was out of the country. Malcolm knew that in certain circles ‘out of the country’ was a euphemism for ‘in jail’. Malcolm was unable to verify this. He was simply glad Manfred was gone and hoped never to hear from him again.

Claire was on her way to lunch. She was wondering how soon Malcolm would provide her new fantasy when a hand encircled her throat and pulled her into the shadows of an alley. A canvas bag was pulled over her head and tied at the neck. Then she was tied and locked in the trunk of a car.

Sitting in his living room, Malcolm decided to get busy. He still owed Claire a fantasy and he hadn’t even started figuring out what he was going to do. He didn’t want her new fantasy to be as saccharine as the last one. He decided to wait a few days before her abduction. Let the suspense build a bit, he thought.

“This is more like it,” Claire thought as she lay bound in the trunk of the green Toyota. “This will be a dark fantasy.”