Something For The Weekend

Something For The Weekend

I wrote this story a few years ago for a young (21 years old) female friend who had rape fantasies. She really loved to be frightened; fear and pain made her incredibly horny. She also had very big natural tits 38G cups, which she was very proud of. This fantasy is entirely hers; I just used some personal elements of her life as a framework to hang the story on.

'Bye Mum, Bye Dad,' she called, waving as the car reversed out of the driveway, straightened up and drove slowly away, picking up speed as it went. She closed the door behind her and ambled into the lounge. Alone at last, a whole weekend on her own with the time to do what she wanted, when she wanted. She hadn't even arranged to have any friends over, no teenage parties, nothing. She was going to behave very responsibly and get some work done for art-college; some painting and some art history, maybe even get started on her next essay.

Later that afternoon, she decided she'd had enough of painting for today. The canvas was wet, and she was worried that to continue might just, 'muddy,' the colours. She wanted the colours to, 'sing,' so best leave it for now. She cleaned her brushes thoroughly, and went downstairs to cook something. By the time she had cooked, eaten the food, and washed up, it was after 7pm, and she sat down gratefully in the peace and quiet of the house to relax. She must have fallen asleep - because when she next looked at the clock it was after 9pm, and it was growing dark outside. She got up, checked to make sure all the doors and windows were locked, closed the curtains, and then decided to have a shower before bed.

She switched on the shower to make sure the water was at the right temperature, and quickly stripped off, taking the time to put her clothes in the laundry basket. She got into the shower, luxuriating in the stream of warm water that caressed her body. She soaped herself all over, letting the jets of water rinse her clean, and then started to soap herself again. This time more slowly and sensuously. First her breasts, round the areolae and nipples, now fully erect despite the warm water. The slippery wetness was sublimely smooth, her skin soft and sensitive as she pulled and pinched her nipples. She moaned in appreciation for the sensations her hands were giving.

'Oooooh fuck, that feels good,' she thought to herself. She soaped over her tummy letting her hands work over her pubic mound, lingering there for a while in anticipation, the pulling and massaging of her skin sending faint warnings of future pleasure to her clitoris. Leaning back against the shower wall, she opened her legs wider and rubbed the slippery soap into her groin, round the periphery of her cunt, but not quite touching it. It was so good teasing herself like this and when she finally touched herself she knew it would feel so much better for holding out as long as possible.

Her cunt was aching to be touched so finally relenting; she let her middle finger gently brush her clitoris. She moaned, and arched her body out from the wall a little. 'Fuck, that's sooo good,' she said out loud, then let her finger dip into her pussy. It all happened quickly after that. A sudden sense of urgency descended on her, and from being ultra patient, she frantically fucked herself with her fingers, using the showerhead on its long, hose attachment to jet hot water onto her clitoris. Under the twin assault, excitement spread rapidly through her stomach and cunt like a tidal wave, and she orgasmed long and loudly in the steamy atmosphere of the hot shower.

* * *

He circled the house, looking for an open curtain, or a blind carelessly pulled. He had no interest in stealing, and was more interested in seeing her than gaining entrance to the house - it was her he had come to see. At last he found what he was looking for, a carelessly drawn curtain had left a clear view of the lounge, and standing in the secluded back garden he withdrew into the shadows and waited...

Towelling herself dry, she put on her bathrobe and went back downstairs. After putting on some music she decided to pour herself a large drink. Much more than she would if Mum and Dad were here, but hey, she could please herself, and with no one here to say what she could and couldn't do, she could afford to be a tad self indulgent. She felt quite, 'decadent,' sitting there with the large drink in her hand. What her dad would have a called, 'a good stiff one.' She found that quietly amusing. She needed a good stiff one right enough she thought, but not in the shape of a drink.

She slowly sipped her drink, adding to the euphoric mood left from the sexual, 'afterglow,' of her masturbation. 'Dance!' she suddenly thought, 'I want to dance.' and getting up from the chair she whirled and pirouetted round the room, letting the rhythm of the music carry her. She normally only danced in the privacy of her own room, and suddenly she realised why it didn't feel quite right - she always danced nude. 'Why not?' she thought, 'nobody here but me,' and stripping off her bathrobe she felt deliciously wicked as she danced naked round the room.

Sometime later, happy, and decidedly, 'woozy,' from the effects of the alcohol, she switched off the lights and made her way upstairs. She threw her bathrobe over the back of a chair and slipped naked into bed. Within minutes she was fast asleep.

He had come to watch, but seeing her dance naked, he adjusted his sights and as crazy and as risky as it looked, decided he must have her. He wanted her - he wanted her skin, her huge tits, he wanted the cute little cunt nestled between her thighs that he had caught glimpses of as she danced. He wanted to touch her, taste her, smell her, and in his wildest fantasies hear her moan and whimper with lust as he took her in every way possible. He knew she was alone for the weekend - he could have her all weekend if everything worked out right. He hurried home to collect some things he would need to restrain her if his plan was to be successful.

When he returned, he looked hopefully under the flowerpots grouped around the back door.

'Ha, there it is. Why do people, spend hundreds of pounds on locks, then leave a key in the most obvious place?' he mused to himself. He was extremely grateful to her parents. Their carelessness had helped to seal the fate of their daughter - it saved him from having to break in and risk rousing the neighbours with any noise. He let himself very quietly into the still house, allowing his eyes time to adjust to the darkness...

She came round slowly, the effects of the alcohol recent enough to dull her senses. She tried to turn over, but couldn't. For a moment she was confused, and couldn't work out what was wrong. Then, instant realization sent fear ripping through her and she was wide-awake, knowing somehow her hands were tied to the bedposts, her eyes and mouth taped shut. She tried to scream, but the thick, industrial 'gaffer,' tape muffled her screams very effectively, and little escaped but an, 'Mmmm,' sound. With her heart thumping crazily in her chest, she thrashed about on the bed trying to escape, but it was no good, she was tied securely. At least her legs weren't tied she thought, but that was a forlorn hope - he'd deliberately left them free knowing she would thrash about, kicking her legs and exhaust herself. She'd be so much easier to manhandle and use in that condition.

As he knew would happen, she soon exhausted her efforts and lay there waiting for what might happen next, chest heaving with fear and effort, her initial panic abating a little. Now that she was less panic-stricken she could think a little clearer. Someone had entered the house; that was clear, and tied her up as she slept. She dismissed her first thought that it might be burglars. From what she had read they were more inclined to avoid human contact, so that left the frightening thought that this person, or persons had come for her - she was the target.

Another wave of fear swept over her, and she tried bravely to push it back. Despite her legs being free she was completely helpless, the ropes restraining her hands were tight, with no, "give," in them at all and she'd never get out of them without help she knew instinctively. She'd have to humour whoever was doing this, and in her heart she knew exactly what that meant. Whatever he wanted to do she'd have to lie there and take it, no matter how painful or disgusting. There was no other way out, no other option that she could think of. The silence went on for ages until at last she began to think maybe it was burglars after all, and they'd gone and left her.

'Hello.' His voice frightened her so much she almost wet herself, and once again she thrashed her legs around kicking out at her unseen captor. When she had tired herself out again he continued. 'You must have lots of questions. If you agree not to scream I'll take the gag off,' he promised, and she nodded her agreement. 'One condition don't think you can just scream when the gag comes off, I have a razor sharp knife,' and he let her feel the point of something very sharp against her throat. That frightened her, a lot! He stripped the tape from her mouth, which in itself was quite painful.

'Who are you, why are you doing this?' she demanded. He laughed.

'Why ask such silly questions? You're a clever girl - I'm not going to tell you who I am, and I think you can work out why I'm doing this.'

'Are you going to rape me?'

'Probably, but then rape has such violent and negative connotations. I intend to have my evil way with you, that's true, but in such a way that you will derive an enormous amount of pleasure from the proceedings too. If you look upon that as rape, then I'm going to rape you. On the other hand, if you look upon it as being given pleasure against your will, you may very well enjoy it and have a wonderful time. The choice is yours.'

'Fuck off, you've no right doing this. Don't you dare touch me you bastard,' she screamed at him. He quickly replaced the gaffer tape, and her cries became muffled noises again.

He touched her legs, and once again she lashed out, kicking blindly into thin air. He easily eluded her kicks and in a very short time she had exhausted herself again. She lay there breathing heavily, her legs leaden with the effort, and so tired that she could offer little resistance when he pushed her legs apart to reveal her pussy. He moved in between her legs, and she felt his weight descend upon her lower body, his head at her breast level. Now her ordeal would begin.

Taking her enormous, beautiful breasts in his hands he kneaded the soft flesh expertly. Gradually he pushed her nipples in towards each other, and when they were close he began to lick and suck each of the nipples gently. This wasn't what she expected at all - this wasn't what she thought rape was - it was supposed to be violent, painful, a quick, degrading fuck in some filthy alley, beaten up, or worse, then left to crawl painfully home. She was very confused.

Her nipples grew big and hard under his expert touch. She tried to ignore him, thinking of all the most hateful people she had ever met. All the guys who gave her the, 'creeps.' Mr Smith her third year maths teacher; the one with the really shitty breath, who always leered down the front of her blouse, and that greasy, spotty guy who worked in the café where she had the summer job, but she was finding it hard to concentrate for long. His pleasure in sucking her breasts seemed never ending, and when her concentration drifted from time to time as it inevitably did, the sensations of pleasure in her breasts became ever more intense.

She fought it, god knows she was trying, but it was like trying desperately to stay awake, she would be thinking of something awful and next moment losing herself in the sweet, sweet feelings in her nipples. She was becoming terribly aroused. She tried again and again to resist, but knew within herself she was losing the battle. She knew the minute he touched her pussy she would be his, and she'd be actively participating in her own rape. She felt humiliated, but knew herself well enough to know that her humiliation would only add to her excitement. How ironic it all was she decided. This guy, 'raping,' her, while she bit her bottom lip to stop moaning out loud with pleasure.

She felt his weight shift as he slid further down her body. She knew his head was between her thighs, she could feel his breath on her inner thighs and pussy - he must be studying her cunt she thought with a thrill of excitement. Unthinkingly she opened her legs wider without even realising she had done it.

'What a lovely pussy babe. You may be trying to fight me off, but your cunt has a mind of its own - it loves me,' he laughed. 'If you could only see how wet you are, it's simply dribbling out of you.' She felt ashamed, and mentally rebuked herself for being such a dirty cow. This fucker was going to rape her, and what did she do, get her cunt all wet and inviting. Just what the fuck was she playing at?

In the darkest corners of her mind she knew well enough, though she found it hard to admit, even to herself. Since the initial fear had worn off she had been growing steadily more excited. True there had been moments when she had been really frightened, but that only made her excitement more intense. By her very nature she was submissive, and although she knew that many women had a submissive streak, hers was no streak. It cut to the very heart of who she was, and although still only nineteen, she had known it for years.

What was happening tonight was the sexual fantasy of all fantasies to her. She had dreamed of being raped and controlled many times, sexually abused and used in every way her young inexperienced mind could think of, and masturbated countless times to that fantasy. So far, being a teenager, most boys her own age didn't have a clue about using her, 'dark side.' She needed an older man to be her Master, control her, and show her everything she longed to learn about. As yet it hadn't happened, partly because she was frightened, but by god, frightened or not, she needed it so badly, and now out of the blue, it had just landed on her. She thought she was ready, as long as it didn't get too violent, but he was between her legs looking at her cunt, she thought she knew what was going to happen next.

With the first upward stroke of his tongue on her cunt, her token defiance melted. She moaned loudly and uncontrollably with pleasure, lifting her bottom off the bed, thrusting her cunt against his mouth. He continued to lick her cunt slowly and methodically, sending shock waves of pleasure through her clitoris, the strokes of his tongue seemed, to her, to be infinite in their variation. This guy knew how to lick a woman for her maximum pleasure she thought to herself as the pressure built higher. Like a dam bursting her orgasm came and wave after wave swept over her. She'd never felt anything like this. When it was over she lay her with legs apart, pussy even wetter than before.

'What a sight I must present,' she thought to herself, but didn't really care - it all felt too good to worry about.

'I'm going to untie your hands, don't try to be clever, don't struggle. I've got a knife and it would be such a shame to cut that beautiful milky white skin. Understand?' he asked. She nodded, but said nothing, feeling him untie her hands and roll her over on her stomach, He tied her hands behind her back and made her get up on her knees in the, 'doggy position,' at the edge of the bed. He ran his hands over her, stroking and caressing, enjoying the feel of her skin under his hands. He noticed her shoulders and upper chest had a sprinkling of freckles, which he found appealing - auburn red hair of course. Her pussy hair was a plain, 'mousy brown,' colour, but looked darker close to her lips where it was flattened against her skin by his saliva and her cunt juice.

As he stroked her bottom, she wriggled it slowly in response. He continued to stroke the beautifully smooth rump, and it soon became obvious that she was getting turned on again. He gave her arse a stinging experimental slap. She jumped with the first shock of it, but moaned out loud, so he repeated it with the same result. Could it be that he'd stumbled across something special here he asked himself?

'More?' he asked. There was a short silence, as if she was thinking about it. When she replied it was so quiet he could hardly hear it, as if she was ashamed of herself and what she was saying.

'Yes, please,' she replied in a voice barely above a whisper. He smacked her arse-cheeks, and all the while she moaned, pulling her bottom forward on impact, then pushing it back ready for the next stroke. He stopped when his hand became too sore, by which time her arse was an angry pink colour, showing up against the whiteness of her skin. She opened her legs wider as if inviting him in and her open wet pussy was very inviting he had to admit. He watched fascinated, as her juices oozed out. He saw a bright bead of viscous wetness gather, elongate, then break off and drip onto the bed. He's never seen such a glorious young cunt so ready to be fucked.

'Next you'll be begging me to rape you,' he suggested, trying for a reaction. She said nothing, and he let the silence hang in the air, waiting for her to give herself away. She wanted to be fucked, no doubt about that, but there were still some minute shreds of resistance in her mind. This guy had broken into her house, violating her personal space, and her too for that matter. Fuck, she should be showing at least a token resistance, but instead she heard herself speaking in that helpless submissive voice again.

'Yes, please, fuck me. I'm a worthless dirty bitch. Rape me, hard, punish me please.'

She felt his hard cock, nudge at her cunt opening, pushing her lips aside as it plunged into the depths of her hole. She was so wet there was no resistance or friction, just a smooth unhindered entrance making her moan louder than before. As he withdrew and plunged it home again she let out one long continuous sound of happiness. Every time he pulled out and rammed it back into her was like a mini orgasm on its own. He slapped her arse cheeks in time with his thrusts and she became quiet frantic in her enthusiasm. Reaching round under her he tweaked her nipples really hard. The pain was intense, but pleasurable too, and she cried out for more. She wanted it all now - pain, pleasure, humiliation - she didn't care. The sensations at the core of her cunt were like nothing she'd ever felt before, and she cried out.

'Oh god, I'm dying, fuck, fuck, Oooooo, harder, slap me, my arse, oh I can't... please slap my arse, oh yes, oh yes, again, again, harder, fuck meeeee.' Her orgasm came, then what seemed like another, hard on the heels of the first tumbling her over and over mentally. Lost in pleasure... incoherent mumblings, screams, moaning, words of pleasure, thanks, and gratitude spewed from her as his thick cock spewed its load into her crevice, filling it with hot spunk. She felt a deep sense of loss as he slowly withdrew from her pussy. His come seeped out of her as she slid face forward onto the bed. Tired, so tired she thought....

When she woke up, everything was silent. She realised her hands were untied.

'Hello,' she called out, tentatively, but there was no reply. Reaching up, she unpeeled the tape from her eyes and looked around her. The first rays of morning light were coming through a gap in the curtains. She was quite alone. Getting up on rather wobbly legs she went through all the rooms, searching, but the house was empty. In the kitchen there was a note on the table.

'I'm not sorry. I'd like to come back tonight, but that's up to you. You can call the police, and spend all day being questioned, examined medically, probed, and poked physically and mentally, or you can remember how much you enjoyed it last night. Leave your bedroom window open between 3-4pm this afternoon as a signal that you want more. I'll call you later with instructions.'