Renaissance House Ch. 04

After Connor had done so well with the dominant-rough sex scenario, Irina kept on the lookout for more opportunities for her Daddy's sexual amusement and fulfillment. And one cropped up soon after.

Wendy was a classmate of Irina who found her studies not as exciting as the extracurricular homework in her professor's beds. They passed her around and when all became tired of her, they made other plans for their personal advantage. As the daughter of one of the College's Board of Regents, she was susceptible to scandal.

It was rather easy for the predatory professors to collaborate and threaten blackmail. She was pressured into starring in a soft porn video as an inducement to keep her wayward activities confidential. Her role would be the actualization of the everyman's virgin rape fantasy.

She came around to the view that it may not all be bad. Sometimes even she fantasized about being forcefully ravaged; this could be her subconscious way, a Freudian way, of rationalizing her lecherous teachers' abuse. The notions and mantras kept running through her brain.

'It's not my fault... I'm not a bad girl... Just caught in a bad situation.'

So, she gave in... again. But with a new curiosity. Whose cock would she be entertaining this time?

"Which of you will be my rapist co-star?"

The professors explained that they couldn't agree among themselves on the antagonist role, so they sought the services of an outsider. She didn't like the thought of that; the potential of being raped by an oversexed or overacting stranger.

"Okay, but only if you promise this is role-playing and won't involve actual intercourse with a strange man."

"Of course, my dear girl. We're not animals, you know."

On the fateful day, they took her to a remote estate's fenced wood and dressed her up in a fantasy version of the Little Red Riding Hood costume.

"Wait here, your leading man will be by shortly."

They left her alone, sitting on a fallen log. As time passed, she got antsy waiting for the other actor, probably the brawny woodsman or some such.

The sound of rustling leaves broke her tedium and she turned to look down a side path. A figure appeared, mostly naked except for a loincloth and a face mask of the Old Grey Wolf. He spied his quarry and bounded towards her in a simulated four-legged lope. Confounded, she jumped up and started running in the opposite direction; not in a playful way but with real hustle in her stride. He gave chase, a combination of two-legged speed and four-legged charade, purposefully holding back to stretch the scene, filmed from above by a drone-mounted camera.

She weaved and wove down the crooked paths, rounded back through light thickets, and returned to the well-worn trails. He followed close enough to snatch at bits of her costume which had been designed with Velcro strips to sequentially peel away as the chase bore out. Her red hood was the first to go. Her white smock shredded when she got tangled in the brush, nearly stumbled and he closed the distance. It was jettisoned to his clutches and she sprang away. A short time later, a nigh capture was barely avoided when he caught the hem of her skirt. But the Velcro belt clasp duly split as intended and she ran on without it.

She was panting and feeling tired from all the dodging and ducking. She thought she saw daylight in the distance, possibly an opening out of the woods. But it was not to be. It was simply a wider part of the pathway and sited near a corner of the estate's tall wooden enclosure. The wolf-man trapped her there, springing back and forth as she tried to dart around him.

She was nearly nude, down to panties and bra. She backed away and pressed her back to the wall. She shrieked when he jumped forward and violently ripped away her bra to expose her youthful tits. He grabbed at those with fake claw fingernails as she tried to fend him off.

Grasping next at her panties, those succumbed to his yanking as well.

She continued to jump and dodge, trying to escape around him but he had her boxed in. With a laughing growl, he stepped back, stood tall, and dropped his arms to his side.

Now nude and panting from the exertions, she figured her soft porn acting tryout was over. She fell out of character and relaxed. But Connor had been given a different script.

He wrenched off his loincloth, exposing his raging hardon. Rushing forward, he grabbed her arms and quickly clutched her tightly to his chest. She writhed with reawakened fear. He wrestled her to the ground, mounted himself between her flailing legs, and watched her well-shaped boobs shimmy on her chest as she struggled to get free. Tucking his cock to her juicy lower lips, he penetrated his knob into her tight, though not by any means virgin, cunt.

"No... no... I didn't agree to this!"

Connor was not to be denied at this point. His primordial lust was too fierce and he punched in, grinding out a rhythm of thrusts. He continued to fuck her while she struggled vehemently in his arms. Her unsuccessful pelvic hops couldn't push him off; it only added stimulation to his cycling erection.

"No... please... don't rape me... please!"

Connor, the porn thespian, couldn't tell if her pleas were real or another part of her act. He didn't care. She was his writhing little quarry, subservient to his macho fervor. He worked up to his final strokes and spewed, expecting to hear another cry of protest.

Instead, she joined him in a surprising orgasm, flexing her back and pressing her pussy hard to his groin throughout her orgasmic convulsions, nurturing their reciprocated rape fetish fantasies. They jittered to a halt and lay exhausted, clinging to each other's bodies. Wendy's eyes formed tears and she softly wept at her conflicted reaction to her fulfilled rape dream.

Connor laid atop her, catching his breath, feeling and hearing her breaths calming along with his. She lay beneath him, naked and weeping, whether from guilt or gladness or both, he couldn't discern. He pushed on elbows and then hands, looking down at the genital conjunction as his cock withdrew from her spongy pussy. He lifted and stood above her, surveying her naked debasement, surmising his role was finished. Without another word or sign, he turned and trotted off down an exit path.

The professors arrived at where she lay, still musing on her ravishment. They wrapped her in a large towel and walked her, weak-kneed, back to the estate house for a quick cleanup and recovery. She was dressed in the street clothes that she had worn on arrival. They drove her back to campus and dropped her at the curb in front of her dorm.

The amateur videographers gathered soon thereafter, reviewed and edited the tapes, making a second version that pixeled Wendy's face to conceal her identity. They showed her the original face-revealing version and threatened to release it on porn sites unless she agreed to the continued rotation of sexual trysts with them for the remainder of her college years. And probably another porn video if they thought up something sexy and original.

She had no choice and spent her remaining years of education learning physical therapy and sexual charity.

Meanwhile, they sold the face-blurred version anyway, adding monetary gain to the usefulness of their forthcoming blackmailed booty calls.