Tracking Her Down

Then finally in a complete surprise to him, she arched her back and opened up her mouth in a silent scream as a sudden orgasm swept over her body. He could feel something break inside her as her pussy started to spasm around his cock. All the pain, shame, and fear was gone from her expression, and in its place was only rapture. John broke the kiss, and tried hard to retain control, changing the rhythm of his strokes and sitting up slightly. He was doing anything he could to distract himself from the inevitable that was quickly coming for him. "That right slut. Cum for me," he gloated, barely above a whisper. "Cum all over your rapist's cock like the pathetic little fucktoy you are."

A few minutes earlier, Octavia would have ignored his words, or argued with him, but now she could only moan in time to his thrusts as his words reignited the shame she'd felt all night. "I am," she whimpered, "I your little rape slut." For a moment she was so lost in bliss that it looked like nothing could ruin this incredible moment. Then John brought her back to the terrible reality of the situation with a few simple words.

"God I want to make you a mommy," he growled. And just like that her expression changed, letting John watch a flurry of terrible emotions and thoughts play across her face. This wasn't a casual fuck. This wasn't about her pleasure. A strange man was in her home, and inside her body. He wasn't wearing a condom, she wasn't on anything, and this was the worst possible time of the month for anyone to cum inside her.

"What? No. Don't do that," she said lamely, trying to stir herself from her reverie even as his dick continued pumping in and out of her overly sensitive pussy, making it difficult for her to think as the exquisite sensations warred with her suddenly acute fear.

John only laughed at her interruption. "What the fuck do you think tonight was about baby? It was about claiming your cunt and filling your womb with my hot cum. Your orgasm was entirely optional."

"You can cum baby," she cooed, trying to persuade him, "Cum on my tits, or in my mouth. Let me suck your dick and it will be even better." She tried to be seductive, but he could see the defeat plainly on her face.

"Why would I cum on your pretty little face or in your slutty little mouth when I could breed your hot little hole, Octavia," John said, grunting as he struggled to keep control. The mention of her name made her pussy spasm. Even if it was just a pseudonym it was enough a part of her identity that she couldn't help but identify it or answer to it. "There's nothing more that I want in this world than to flood your fertile womb with cum, cunt. That's what happens to slutty little cock teases like you. You show everyone your body and you beg for them to breed you like the..." John gasped trying to hold back his orgasm just a moment longer, "Whore. You. Are."

In the end, each word was a thrust, and with the final thrust he bottomed out, balls deep inside his victim as shot after shot of cum spewed from his aching balls into the defenseless womb of the rapeslut beneath him, spattering against her bruised cervix. The first four spasms each washed over him in ecstasy, and the last three felt good, but were much less intense. Octavia for her part could only mewl "nooooo..." as the inevitable was inflicted on her. Like everything else tonight, it was against her will, but her body seemed to ache for it all the same. She shuddered every time she felt the cock inside her spasm. The intensity of it all gave her a second orgasm, that while less intense than the first, she was still overwhelmed for a moment.

Neither of them could see all the cum he'd forced inside her, but he could imagine. He could see it in his mind's eye, the vulnerable egg laying there in her womb just waiting to be found. He could see the millions of sperm like a barbarian army seeking to overwhelm her defenses and take everything from her. If they succeeded, then she'd have her rapist's baby. Her body would begin to swell, and her tits would balloon from the cute little A cups she loved so much to C or D cup mommy tits forever leaking milk.

Octavia looked at her rapist, and perhaps the father of her baby in a new light at that moment, and then instead of yelling at him or fighting against her bonds, she leaned up and kissed him hesitantly, almost even sweetly. John lingered in the kiss for a moment before slowly peeling his sweaty body off hers and giving her one long look before stooping to fish his phone out of his pile of clothes.

Without a word he turned on his camera app and started taking pictures or the freshly fucked slut on the bed. Shots of her whole helpless body. Close ups of her face and her raw abused pussy still oozing his sperm. Everything. Of course, Octavia took issue with this once she realized what was going on. "Please," she said, barely above a whisper, "You won. You don't need to rub it in. Don't ruin this..." But besides turning her head or closing her eyes, there really isn't anything she could do. John ignored her until he had all the pictures he wanted, then he finally answered her as he flipped a sheet over to cover her nudity, finally.

"I'm not ruining anything slut." He said, smiling. "I'm saving it. One perfect moment, preserved in time. Why wouldn't I keep it forever?"

Octavia blushed and smiled just a little without realizing it. "So, what happens now?" Octavia asked, uncertain what post rape pillow talk should be like.

John shrugged as he started to get dressed. "I guess we'll see. I put you in your place, but I don't want you to live in fear. I don't plan on coming back up to fuck you again, unless of course you want me to," he suddenly looked up, and smiled at her hopefully.

"I don't know," Octavia said hesitantly, "I need time to process."

"Well, I don't know, it is a lot better than I expected. If you want me to come back to play, I'm sure you can figure out a way to make that clear in your posts. Maybe just be careful about sharing any more personal details. You make it much easier and who knows what kind of creep might find you next time."

Octavia laughed, a strange thing for a rape victim to do, but doubly so since she was laughing at her rapist's joke. "Aren't you just the sort of creep you're talking about though?"

"Creep?" John answered as he slipped on his shoes and picked up his jacket, "Who are you trying to kid slut, you loved it." And with that he leaned down to kiss her gently while cutting one of her wrists free. "I'll be gone before you get out entirely, but who knows - maybe we'll be in touch."

And with that John walked over to the door to leave and opened it, and suddenly leaned as hard as he could to one side, holding on the doorknob for support, barely having time to sidestep as someone in the hall tried to surprise him with a frying pan to the face. She missed though, hitting the door frame and leaning forward off balance as he avoided the sneak attack. John dropped his bag and grabbed her by her hair and pulled her into the room and sent her sprawling to the floor.

John walked over to the prone form and stepped on her back to keep her from getting back up. Then he turned back to Octavia, smiling coldly, "Well, well, well - what have we here." For her part she looked aghast. For a moment this was over - on what you could almost describe as a good note, as strange as that was. Now there was no telling what the stranger in her room might do.

"Please don't," Octavia pleaded, the fear plain in her voice. "She doesn't know anything. She didn't do anything, just go home and leave us alone."

John's smile faded but his coldness remained. "Now why would I want to do a thing like that?"