tagNonConsent/ReluctanceThe Tree by the Window

The Tree by the Window


A hard day's work for Francine. From 9 to 5, she suffered the nagging blathering of her boss about the TPS reports, the painful anecdotes of the office dullard, and the tedious computer work that kept her fingers in constant motion at the keyboard.

She got on the M train back to her Brooklyn apartment. She looked at the floor of the train with a blank expression, the bags under her eyes prominent on her face. She wondered what had happened to her. She used to be happy, content with life. Now it was a mundane, repetitive rut.

In her younger years, Francine was a nice and exciting girl. She was the kind of girl who would be the designated driver, but she would also flash people on the highway when she wasn't drive. It wasn't about being sexy, it was about having fun.

And fun she had. Had. Past tense. Now, in her late thirties, her libido had faded. This left her body unkempt. Her breasts were deflating, being 36C at their best, and now lying at 32C. Her skin was becoming pale and veiny, not having the opportunity to spend time under the sun very often.

This is not to say that she was not attractive. Francine was a tall girl. At 5' 10", she was a good volleyball player at her gym. Her brown hair reached the small of her back, and it was still very thick and deep in color despite her age.

She threw her curvy body down onto her bed, still in her business suit. Although she wanted to fall asleep right then and there, she thought it better to change into pajamas. She got up and changed, then went to the kitchen for dinner.

She was grateful that she found a nice apartment, albeit in a bad neighborhood. On the second floor, she owned a tight two room apartment with a small kitchen. To fit the feeling of her cramped and gray home, she threw some top ramen onto the stove.

She turned the TV on and started watching The Real Housewives of...

"Housewife," she thought, "that would be so much better than this. I'd at least have someone to look forward to. Someone to comfort, someone to love, someone to fuck."

Francine had been single for years. Her last boyfriend was a man whore, so she had developed trust issues. Her sex life had been dead ever since. She rarely thought about it, but when she did, the desire was high. Tonight was one of those nights.

She finished her cheap noodles and retreated to her bedroom. She put on some jazz music, and went to her bottom dresser drawer. She pulled out her toy: a little vibrator egg.

Her routine was simple: shove it in, turn it on, and wait to cum.

Tonight, there was a slight error. The egg slipped out while she had dozed off from exhaustion. The orgasm never came.


While she slumbered so early into the night, a storm started to brew. It was an hour into her sleep when the storm became powerful. The trees were bending in the wind, the rain beating hard on the windows.

In the other room of Francine's apartment, a large tree stood close to the window. Though it was large, one branch was rather weak. It broke at the top of the tree, and crashed through the window. Francine remained unconscious.

From the sidewalk, a man saw the window break open. He was far from his home, and needed to go somewhere. He jumped at the opportunity. The man climbed into the tree and jumped in through the window. He found a completely empty room. Aware of the time of night, he waited before walking out of the room. It was cold, and glass was all over the floor.

After enough time had passed, the man crept out into the hallway. He closed the door behind him and saw an apartment decorated with useless little trinkets. He thought this was too good to be true.

The man began to stuff his pockets with the little things; souvenirs from other countries and expensive luxury decorations. He found himself in the main room where a couch was. He would have loved to lie down, but he wasn't certain that he'd go unseen. So he went to the second hallway of the small living space.

It was decorated with many broadway posters, some signed. He tip-toed down the hall as quietly as he could. The floor underneath the carpet was creaking, but not very loudly.

He finally arrived at the door and put his ear up to it. He saw no lights shining under the door, but he still needed to check. He heard no movement, and no snoring. But there was a weak buzzing noise, like something was vibrating. Probably a massager or something, he thought.

He kept listening, and the buzzing persisted. Still, there was no other movement, no other sound. "You know what? Fuck it. Not like the cops can find me so easy in this fucking storm." He carefully opened the door.

The door creaked ever so slightly, and when there was no reaction from within, he felt it was safe. It was very dark, and he couldn't see too well. The buzzing was now louder. He was sure that nobody was home, and he stepped inside. Then the first strike of lightning presented itself.

The duration of the flash was just long enough for the man to notice one thing: there was a woman in the room, and she was asleep. Not only was she asleep, she was naked. He still didn't know the source of the buzzing, but now he was convinced that it was a vibrator.

He stood in the middle of the room in shock, the sight of the woman having surprised him. This went on through a few more strikes of lightning, assuring him that it was real; no illusion. Her breasts were bare, her legs too, and a vibrator egg between her legs, buzzing on without doing its work.

The situation finally resonated with the man. He had entered a random apartment, and now there was a sleeping naked woman in front of him who evidently fell asleep during masturbation. It was still too good to be true. Even better than before. There was no way he would be caught, thanks to this storm. It was dark, it was loud because of rain and thunder, and it would be easy to slip away. He didn't even live in Brooklyn.

The man inched his way over to the bed, trying not to fall in the darkness. He made it there, feeling the bed frame with his shin. His hand slid up the sheets until it found her thigh. He slowly, very slowly, put more pressure onto her leg. She did not wake. He slid his hand across her left thigh and found the egg, then turned it off. Out of curiosity, he let his hand go straight to her vagina. It was damp. Not wet, but damp. She definitely hadn't finished. But he didn't care about her finishing.


Francine was having a lovely dream. She was floating about through the stars, seeing many people she knew fly by her. There was the mail man, her parents, her pets, and even Derrick Finster from 1st grade. They were all just happily zooming around the galaxy without a care in the world. Francine thought she'd take a rest on Mars, which was looking particularly pale this evening. More like the moon, really.

She arrived at Olympus Mons, and felt the gravity start to take effect. She lied down, and for some reason she could see Earth clearly. Staring at it, she noticed it was shaking. Earth was vibrating intensely, with no explanation. Francine got worried. Her worries grew tenfold when Earth disappeared. Not all at once, but it moved. It kept moving further and further away until it was gone.

This is when Mars started to regain its color. Just a little hint of red had returned. Then she felt a raindrop. While she was looking down at the ground as it changed hue, clouds had appeared above, the same color as the planet. A single rain drop had landed on her forehead, and she felt happy again. For about half an hour, she lay there letting single drops of rain hit her forehead. Then a quick burst of drizzling rain fell to her, but slowed down again. In that quick flash, the hue of the clouds and planet had darkened, but returned to the pale orange along with the ebbing rain.

Single raindrops resumed. She wanted the drizzling back. She enjoyed the darker color. Then it returned. As it did, she realized that she was holding something. She looked at her hand and saw a lollipop, also the color of Mars. She watched as it grew to a deeper orange, approaching a redder hue. The rain grew heavier, ever so slightly.

She took the lollipop to her mouth. She let it sit there for a moment, savoring the sweet taste of it. It sat there on her tongue for some time. While it sat there she thought about the beautiful color of Mars. It had always been this way. When it grew darker, it had still always been that way.

Francine felt giddy all of a sudden, having this lollipop. Something made it special. She didn't just want to let the lollipop sit there. The best flavor comes from licking. And that she did. She licked the lollipop while it sat in her mouth. As she did, the rain became more abundant. It had left drizzle and become regular rain. Mars darkened more, and she felt relaxed and satisfied.


The man had rubbed his erection against her lips. Lucky for him she was a heavy sleeper, especially when exhausted. He felt the warm breath from her nostrils as he caressed her closed mouth with his large manhood, a trophy he was particularly proud of. Back and forth across her lips. Her head was turned to face him. The positioning seemed so inviting, and he brought the head of his cock to her lips. He applied the slightest pressure, and gradually brought more and more to it.

Miraculously, her jaw lowered in a small increment. It was all the man needed. He slid his cock past her lips, forcing her jaw to open more. Her clean and perfect teeth scraped his skin, but he didn't mind. He felt the warmth of her mouth around the whole of his head, and kept it there. He didn't want to risk putting more in just yet. He carefully moved his head in and out, lubricating his penis with her saliva.

It was then that he remembered the old dream suggestion trick. She was in a deep sleep, so if he gave some suggestion in her unconscious state, it might affect her dreams and help his case. Now playing at high risks, he spoke.

"You just got a lollipop, baby. And now you want it in your mouth. Now let's see how many licks it takes to get to the center."

It was a long shot and he knew it, but it was worth a try. His prayers were answered as he felt a little pressure come from her previously stagnant tongue. This sleeping woman was licking the head of his cock and she didn't even know it. He took this as an invitation and ventured further into her mouth. He reached the back of her tongue and stopped there. If he went farther, she'd wake up for sure.

The man loved the feeling. Not just of her warmth around his previously neglected dick, but the thought of raping this woman's mouth without her knowing. It was rape. She didn't give consent. She couldn't, she was asleep. And he liked it that way.


Something about the whole situation was odd to Francine. The lollipop was too good to be true. It was so sweet and large. It never seemed to get smaller no matter how much she licked it. Mars had become almost blood red and the rain was pouring. She felt in total bliss, but she knew this was unnatural.

She held the lollipop in one hand, and was caressing herself with the other. Her own body had never felt so sexy before. It was like a Greek statue all of a sudden. She felt soft and desirable. The rain did nothing to take away from that. In fact, it made her feel sexier. The sexier she felt, the more she went to town on her sweet candy.


The man had lost himself gradually. He wasn't really thinking about the changes going on. He was putting less effort into sliding in and out of her mouth because she was putting in more. But he didn't notice. The licking had evolved to swirling and pressing with the tongue, but he didn't notice. He especially didn't notice the slow traveling hand of hers. All he cared about was the utter pleasure he was experiencing.

The hand had made its way down to her now dripping vagina. The blowjob was having quite the effect on her, though neither knew of it. Subconsciously she began to satisfy herself, and moaning began. That's when the man noticed. He felt the vibration of her moan and pulled out in a panic. He stepped back in a panic. When she stopped all of her movement, he calmed down. But then she woke up.

"Mmmmm... what a dream." She could not see the man in the darkness of her room. Her hand was still on her wetness. "Oh my goodness, I didn't finish. Goddamn it. Where did my egg go?" She got up to go get the lights. While the man still had the cover of darkness, he picked up his jeans.

Francine turned the lights on and turned around. The very moment she did, she saw the tall lumbering man before her, charging at her with jeans. She screamed, giving the opportunity for the denim to go to her mouth. The scream was muffled, and the man pulled her back to the bed. He stayed on top of her. She tried fighting back, but it was no use.

"Listen, bitch. I was having a little fun with you just a second ago. That got me excited. Looks like you were excited a little bit too. So I'm just going to take your excitement, and my excitement, and have a nice fucking time. No one's going to hear you in this storm, so let's save your vocal cords the trouble. Now I'm going to give you the privilege of having a free mouth. If you scream for help, you lose that privilege. You're mine now, slut."

Francine began crying. All the pleasure from her dream had disappeared. Unfortunately her wetness had not. She wanted release, but not like this. The denim came out of her mouth. She considered screaming, but thought better of it. He was right, after all. Nobody could hear her in this storm.

"What kind of girl are you?" he said as he roughly grabbed her tits. "Are you a busybody? A hard worker?"

"Y-y-yes..." she stammered.

"Well right now you're going to be a little sexy actress, okay? You're going to play the part of a whore. You're a whore for me. You love my cock, you worship my cock. Understand?" He gave both her nipples a hard twist and the tears started flowing harder.

"Please..." but he only twisted harder. "Okay! I'm s-s-sorry! I'll b-be your whore..."

The man picked her up and threw her to the floor. She curled up and he took his shirt off. The door was right in front of her, but she'd lost all hope. She would just have to go through with this. She got up on her knees, still crying and convulsing from fear. His perfectly erect penis stood in front of her. She'd never seen one so large. That scared her too.

He waited for her to put her mouth back where it belonged. She opened her mouth slowly, reluctantly. He was getting frustrated. "Come on, play the part. You're my little actress, remember? You're playing a whore. And whores. Love. Cock." On that last word, he grabbed her head and shoved his cock down her throat. She had only taken half its length and she gagged, not having expected it. She could barely keep her mouth open.

The quality of the blowjob had greatly decreased, but the eroticism of his control had made it even better. He'd never felt so powerful before. She didn't even scream. He wanted to make her scream, though. A scream of primal orgasmic vigor. But she would have to calm down first.

"Touch yourself. Whores love touching themselves."

Francine brought her shaking hand down to her sopping vagina. She didn't want to be so wet, but she was. With her index finger she lightly caressed herself, halfheartedly. But it did feel good. She was afraid that if she didn't do well enough, he would get mad and end up hurting her. That was the last thing she wanted. So she kicked it into gear. She kept just the head of his throbbing cock in her mouth for just a moment and caught her breath. She brought her free hand up and began to work his shaft. Then she added a little suction and put her tongue pack into it. This caused a moan to escape the man's lips.

Meanwhile, her other hand had two fingers circling around her clit. She wasn't having any mental pleasure, she wanted this to end. But her body was loving every second of it. Her masturbation helped her nerves, and she stopped shaking and crying.

The man noticed her increased efforts. For a moment he thought she was enjoying it. So he thought, even if she wasn't, he'd make her enjoy getting raped. He pulled his cock out of her mouth and grabbed her by the throat. He slapped her across the face and get very close.

"Do you like sucking cock? Tell me you love it. Shove your fingers in your cunt and tell me how much of a whore you are."

He pushed as he let go of her, and she fell to her back. She caught her breath and tried not to let the fear come back. She inserted her index and middle finger into herself and caught a slow rhythm.

"I... um..." She couldn't think. But she had to. She had to do this. She returned to her days in high school and brought back memories of her escapades.

"I love sucking big cocks like yours. I sit at my desk and work just thinking about it for hours. I wish I could bring you to work and use you as a chair so I could fuck you in front of all my co-workers. I'd fuck you anywhere, baby. On the subway, in Times Square, in Central Park, and especially right her, right now." And then she snapped. The years of sexual dormancy, being alone with nothing but an egg, had boiled up to this point. She was the one getting raped, but she would do the raping.

She stood up. "Get the fuck back down there, whore," said the man. He was about to choke her again, but she pushed him onto the bed. She bent down and sucked his cock again to stop any more objections. She got to her knees next to the bed, and while he lost himself in bliss, she reached underneath for the three pairs of handcuffs she hadn't used for years.

She looked up, his cock still in her mouth, and saw that his eyes were closed. She stopped sucking, and they remained closed. "Whore, did I say-" in a quick flash, his wrists were cuffed, and both of his feet to each corner of the end of the bed. He was trapped.

"Fuck, fuck, no no no no!" He tugged on each pair, but no avail.

"You think you can just come in here and rape me?" said Francine, a powerful tone in her voice.

"Listen, lady-"

"Now I'm going to become one of the few women to rape a man." He was silent. She mounted his chest and scooted up until her cunt was hovering over his face. "Eat it you, bastard." And with that she grinded on his face.

The man was never a fan of this, but now he was being forced. Her clit roughly rubbed from his chin up to his nose and back again. She as going crazy on him. All he had to do was stick his tongue out and she did the rest. The hard part was breathing.

It didn't seem so bad to the man. It's hard to rape a man, anyway. If she was going to fuck him, so be it. That's what this was all about anyway. But it certainly wouldn't be as fun or as sexy without being in control of it all.

Francine couldn't believe how brazen she had become. It was just what she needed at this time in her life, to be the one who decided what happened next. But she was a little busy enjoying the strange sensation of five o'clock shadow on her vagina. Strangely, she liked it. But she liked it more when his tongue came out.

"Go ahead, stick your tongue in there." He lightly pushed in, giving halfhearted effort. She grabbed his hair and pulled a little towards her. "I said put your fucking tongue in my pussy!" And so he did. She moaned at the sensation. In her mind, Mars had become a raging hurricane of rose petals.

She felt the onset of an unexpected orgasm, and pulled herself off before she reached that point. It wasn't time for the first one yet. It was time to bring things to the next level.

She slid herself down his torso, rubbing her warm breasts across his chest, his stomach, and finally around his throbbing dick. She steadied herself on his thighs and teasingly licked his rod. Just when he thought it was about to get good, she gave the skin of his shaft a bite. He shook, not expecting the pain. "Shit, lady!"

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