angkorwat
01-17-2009, 11:59 AM
The narrators spends a night witnessing in the many joys the city has to offer.
The street is dirty, long shadows obscure many of the buildings. The buildings are run down, windows broken, entrances boarded up. Not a nice place. I look up into the empty sky, only the crescent moon hangs in the eastern sky. The Spire is close, a single solitary pillar forcing its way into the sky. The more I look at it, the higher is pinnacle seems to reach, the longer the tower seems to be become. I walk down the broken sidewalk. I like to wander in this part of the city at night, to aimlessly walk among the broken buildings, to feel the sorrow, the regret, the loss that seems to ooze from them. It’s as though each building is a battered victim, broken, sobbing in the night. It’s quiet, few people come to this place anymore and why should they, there’s nothing here.
The perfect silence is broken by a women’s scream. It’s not far off. I walk quickly to the alley the scream bellowed from. I poke my head into the alley and see two shapes further down. I creep into the alley—no need to let anyone see me before I know what’s going on. I crouch down and hide behind a dumpster. There’s a man and women, I listen. “What, I’m not good enough for you now? You’ll take my money but you won’t put out? Fucking bitch, I’m going to take what’s mine.†She opens her mouth to speak but before she can he slaps her across the face. She holds the side of her face and looks up at him, he slaps her again. And again. And again. She falls over and looks down the alley toward me; I see her eyes, blue, piercing. She looks at the dumpster but doesn’t see me, good, no need for me to interfere.
He pulls her up and pushes her face into the wall. “I’m going to take what you owe me.†He unbuttons her jeans and pulls them down her panties. He unzips and lowers his pants. His dick is hard, there’s nothing she can do, he’s going to rape her. He enters her with a grunt. She faces toward me as he holds her head against the wall. Each thrust sends the sound of slapping of flesh on flesh down the alley.
I finally realize what she’s looking at, it’s not me, it’s the Spire. I turn my head to look at it. It stands there in silent witness to the rape. It watches every blow, every thrust, every soul crushing degradation. I turn around to the rape once more. His hips are moving faster, he’s getting deeper, more urgent with each stroke until he closes his eyes. He cums, I hear him grunt as he fills her unwilling pussy. She starts to sob. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?†He pulls her panties and pants back up along with his own. She slowly slides down the wall as tears streams from her eyes, sobbing in the dark night. He picks her up and steadies her, nearly drags her out of the alley. I wait for their footsteps to fade. I stand, turn around and leave the alley.
I look up, the branches obscure my view, but then again so do the clouds. I see the crescent moon in the west through a break in the clouds. It’s dark here, no streets lights, no moonlight. The park is always like this: dark and enclosing. The clouds, the branches the tress, it’s hard to see what is near, hard to escape. I look to the right and see it standing there, see the Spire. Its height pierces the low clouds, forces its way through them. It look less imposing from here, less violent than it did in the alley. Yet I still hate its presumption, hate its nature and hate its power. I see motion out of the corner of my eye. Something is moving closer, moving quickly. I move behind a tree trunk and hide. As the blob gets closer I see it’s a woman in tattered, torn clothing. She’s running fast, running as though her life depends on it. Five objects follow her closely. She moves faster then trips, falls. These trees are very old, their roots are thick and irregular; she feel over one. The five objects are men, whatever they want from, they’re going to get. They surround her, she won’t be going anywhere. One of them shouts, “Hold her down,†one grabs her hands and hold then behind her head. Two others grab her feet. The same man speaks again, “You couldn’t make it easy for yourself, no; you had to do this the hard way. We’ll show you what we do to cockteases!†I see the glint of light from the blade in his hand as he cuts off her remaining clothes. His pants drop as he places himself between her legs. His ass begins to move in a rhythm, he rapes her.
She turns her head in my direction. I don’t see her face, only her eyes, a shade of blue that cuts through me. She looks through me at the Spire. It seems closer now than it was moments ago. It seems more urgent, more menacing and more painful. The man fucks her as hard as me can, it’s as though he doesn’t just want to fuck her, me wants to hurt her, wants her to know the power he has over her. He cums inside and gets up. His place is quickly taken by another of his group. He takes his pants off; I think even she knows what that means. He won’t rape her just once; he’ll do it again and again and again. This will take awhile. I crawl away, no need to ruin this lovely meeting. When I’m out of sight I walk toward the Spire, a flashing light at the pinnacle turns the clouds around the tower red. I continue to walk through the park.
I walk up the stairs to a train platform. It’s cold, windy and clear. I look into the sky, the full moon stands at its height in the center of sky. A train pulls up and I get on. There are few people in the car, few people out on a night as cold as tonight. I get out of seat as the train start to move. I move from one car to another; then I stop. I look through the window of one of the doors and see something I did not expect. I man sits next to a passed out women, his hand under her skirt inside her panties; he’s finger fucking her. Her rips open her blouse and pulls her tits out of her bra. He squeezes them, he licks them. He flips her skirt up, pulls her panties off and puts them in his pocket. His pants come down and he enters her. Behind her head I see flashing red light of the Spire. I’m far away from it but it still looms on the horizon. No matter how far away am I am from it, it still knows I’m here, still sees me, still threatens me; I can’t escape it.
I turn away from the Spire and watch the rape unfold. He continues to thrust into the unconscious body, each time her delves deeper and deeper and deeper. He picks up his pace and unloads himself into her unwilling cunt. He gets dressed and leaves the train. Once he leaves I enter the car. The stench is overwhelming; the scent of her cunt has permeated the car. I stand in front of her and look at her. Her legs are splayed over the seat; her cum filled cunt sits open, lewdly displayed in exhibitionistic glory. Her hard nipples still stand erect. Her eyes are closed but I still know their color—blue, it is as though my knowledge of them is unhindered by her eye lids. Even though the train is moving the Spire still looks at me, its eyes follow me. The train stops and I get out. I look through the windows at the thoroughly raped women one more—she is more beautiful now then she will ever know.
I look up through the rain drops at the clouds. I see the moon through a small break in the clouds; it’s only a small sliver low in the eastern sky. I cross the street, jump over a fence and walk around the back of a house. I crawl beneath a window and look. A women is getting dressed. I hear pounding one her door, it swings open. A man walks in and starts to shout, “You fucking whore. I’ve heard what you’ve been doing, spreading your legs for anything with a dick. Didn’t I raise you to be better than that, didn’t I?†She doesn’t answer. He picks her up and throws her on the bed. He tears her bra and panties off. He pulls his underwear off and throws it to the side. He jumps onto the bed, she tries to push him off. He grabs her wrists and grind his crotch into hers. “Is this what you want? I’ve got a dick, don’t you want to fuck it?†He penetrates her. She starts to cry, starts to plead, starts to beg. “Please daddy, don’t do this. No. No. Stop, please.†The voice is familiar in some way, I don’t know why.
She turns her head toward the window, her blue eyes seem to look right through me. I turn around and see it far away, barely visible. Even far away I feel its pull, I want it even though I hate it. I want it even though it can only hurt me; I want it even with everything it has done to me. Squeaking springs add to the cacophony of sobs and animalistic grunts. He tenses up and shots himself inside her. He lies there, probably savoring the moment—he hasn’t had this much power over his daughter in a long time. He pulls himself out, she lies there, tears flowing from her eyes. He walks toward the door, “I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t want to have to punish you, you made me do it.†I couch down and move back around to the front of the house. I cross the street as I look behind me—it watched, the Spire, it’s seen everything.
I look up through the branches, the clouds have finally broken. The crescent moon is lower in the western sky. She’s still on the ground, still getting fucked. None of them have pants now. I can’t see her cunt, but I can guess what it looks like now—red, engorged, leaking cum and her juices. Her back and ass are caked with dirt from the constant, hard, strong thrusts. He finishes and pulls out; no one takes his place. “Did you have a good time cunt? Maybe now you won’t lead men on like that?†He says something to the men around him. They stand around her, each with his limp dick in his hand. They urinate on her, they piss on her. They have already marked her cunt as their territory, now they mark her in an animalistic ritual. She lies there motionless, unable to muster any resistance. She has been completely raped; gang raped into submission. The men get dressed and leave her broken body on the ground.
I get up and walk toward her. I dare not turn around; the Spire is behind me now, always behind me. It’s taller now, longer and wider. It watches me move, it knows. I stand over her broken body. Bite marks cover her body, her thighs are bruised. She has been raped many times by each man. Her cunt is red, red tinged cum flows out of it. The pain she in is must be unbearable. Yet somehow I know it isn’t, somehow. She is broken. I lean over her and look at her eyes, blue and glazed over. I look into them, familiar, I know this.
I open the door to my apartment. The curtains in front of the door to the balcony are open. I see it standing there, gloating with the rising sun. It knows what I won’t, it know what I am. I walk into the bathroom and look into the mirror. Eyes. Blue. Familiar. Her face stares back at me. Everything fades to black.
I open my eyes and jump in my bed, my body covered in sweat. Light has begun to flood into the room; the sun has started to rise. They said this would happen, what happened to me would haunt my dreams. I would relive it; but in reliving it I would be powerless to stop it. That’s not what happened. I didn’t want to stop it, I wanted it to happen, I wanted her to be raped. I wanted to be raped, I wanted them to force me, I wanted them to take me, to hurt me.
I get out of bed. I feel the wetness, feel the arousal—my panties are soaked. I pull them off and look out my window across the balcony at the Spire. It sits there voyeuristically watching the city. I remember it; it was there every time they did that me, every time I was raped. I would stare at me as they fucked me, as they hurt it. It’s not a building anymore, it’s not a tower; it is every time they raped. I want it, I want the tower. I bring my hand down to my pussy. I need something inside me, I need it now. I stick my finger inside me, I need them, I need the Spire, I need cock, I need to be held down, force me, rape me, punish me. I want it. I need it. I cum hard and fall onto the floor. I start to cry. They did this to, they changed me. I want them now, I want to be used, want to be raped and there is nothing I can do about it. I bring my eyes up to it one more time, its gaze gloats over my sexualized body—it has won, it owes me now.
As you can see this isn’t what I said I was going to write, but it was so much more fun to write something from the victim’s perspective and write it as though she were watching what happened to her. Any comment would be appreciated as would any story ideas.
The street is dirty, long shadows obscure many of the buildings. The buildings are run down, windows broken, entrances boarded up. Not a nice place. I look up into the empty sky, only the crescent moon hangs in the eastern sky. The Spire is close, a single solitary pillar forcing its way into the sky. The more I look at it, the higher is pinnacle seems to reach, the longer the tower seems to be become. I walk down the broken sidewalk. I like to wander in this part of the city at night, to aimlessly walk among the broken buildings, to feel the sorrow, the regret, the loss that seems to ooze from them. It’s as though each building is a battered victim, broken, sobbing in the night. It’s quiet, few people come to this place anymore and why should they, there’s nothing here.
The perfect silence is broken by a women’s scream. It’s not far off. I walk quickly to the alley the scream bellowed from. I poke my head into the alley and see two shapes further down. I creep into the alley—no need to let anyone see me before I know what’s going on. I crouch down and hide behind a dumpster. There’s a man and women, I listen. “What, I’m not good enough for you now? You’ll take my money but you won’t put out? Fucking bitch, I’m going to take what’s mine.†She opens her mouth to speak but before she can he slaps her across the face. She holds the side of her face and looks up at him, he slaps her again. And again. And again. She falls over and looks down the alley toward me; I see her eyes, blue, piercing. She looks at the dumpster but doesn’t see me, good, no need for me to interfere.
He pulls her up and pushes her face into the wall. “I’m going to take what you owe me.†He unbuttons her jeans and pulls them down her panties. He unzips and lowers his pants. His dick is hard, there’s nothing she can do, he’s going to rape her. He enters her with a grunt. She faces toward me as he holds her head against the wall. Each thrust sends the sound of slapping of flesh on flesh down the alley.
I finally realize what she’s looking at, it’s not me, it’s the Spire. I turn my head to look at it. It stands there in silent witness to the rape. It watches every blow, every thrust, every soul crushing degradation. I turn around to the rape once more. His hips are moving faster, he’s getting deeper, more urgent with each stroke until he closes his eyes. He cums, I hear him grunt as he fills her unwilling pussy. She starts to sob. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?†He pulls her panties and pants back up along with his own. She slowly slides down the wall as tears streams from her eyes, sobbing in the dark night. He picks her up and steadies her, nearly drags her out of the alley. I wait for their footsteps to fade. I stand, turn around and leave the alley.
I look up, the branches obscure my view, but then again so do the clouds. I see the crescent moon in the west through a break in the clouds. It’s dark here, no streets lights, no moonlight. The park is always like this: dark and enclosing. The clouds, the branches the tress, it’s hard to see what is near, hard to escape. I look to the right and see it standing there, see the Spire. Its height pierces the low clouds, forces its way through them. It look less imposing from here, less violent than it did in the alley. Yet I still hate its presumption, hate its nature and hate its power. I see motion out of the corner of my eye. Something is moving closer, moving quickly. I move behind a tree trunk and hide. As the blob gets closer I see it’s a woman in tattered, torn clothing. She’s running fast, running as though her life depends on it. Five objects follow her closely. She moves faster then trips, falls. These trees are very old, their roots are thick and irregular; she feel over one. The five objects are men, whatever they want from, they’re going to get. They surround her, she won’t be going anywhere. One of them shouts, “Hold her down,†one grabs her hands and hold then behind her head. Two others grab her feet. The same man speaks again, “You couldn’t make it easy for yourself, no; you had to do this the hard way. We’ll show you what we do to cockteases!†I see the glint of light from the blade in his hand as he cuts off her remaining clothes. His pants drop as he places himself between her legs. His ass begins to move in a rhythm, he rapes her.
She turns her head in my direction. I don’t see her face, only her eyes, a shade of blue that cuts through me. She looks through me at the Spire. It seems closer now than it was moments ago. It seems more urgent, more menacing and more painful. The man fucks her as hard as me can, it’s as though he doesn’t just want to fuck her, me wants to hurt her, wants her to know the power he has over her. He cums inside and gets up. His place is quickly taken by another of his group. He takes his pants off; I think even she knows what that means. He won’t rape her just once; he’ll do it again and again and again. This will take awhile. I crawl away, no need to ruin this lovely meeting. When I’m out of sight I walk toward the Spire, a flashing light at the pinnacle turns the clouds around the tower red. I continue to walk through the park.
I walk up the stairs to a train platform. It’s cold, windy and clear. I look into the sky, the full moon stands at its height in the center of sky. A train pulls up and I get on. There are few people in the car, few people out on a night as cold as tonight. I get out of seat as the train start to move. I move from one car to another; then I stop. I look through the window of one of the doors and see something I did not expect. I man sits next to a passed out women, his hand under her skirt inside her panties; he’s finger fucking her. Her rips open her blouse and pulls her tits out of her bra. He squeezes them, he licks them. He flips her skirt up, pulls her panties off and puts them in his pocket. His pants come down and he enters her. Behind her head I see flashing red light of the Spire. I’m far away from it but it still looms on the horizon. No matter how far away am I am from it, it still knows I’m here, still sees me, still threatens me; I can’t escape it.
I turn away from the Spire and watch the rape unfold. He continues to thrust into the unconscious body, each time her delves deeper and deeper and deeper. He picks up his pace and unloads himself into her unwilling cunt. He gets dressed and leaves the train. Once he leaves I enter the car. The stench is overwhelming; the scent of her cunt has permeated the car. I stand in front of her and look at her. Her legs are splayed over the seat; her cum filled cunt sits open, lewdly displayed in exhibitionistic glory. Her hard nipples still stand erect. Her eyes are closed but I still know their color—blue, it is as though my knowledge of them is unhindered by her eye lids. Even though the train is moving the Spire still looks at me, its eyes follow me. The train stops and I get out. I look through the windows at the thoroughly raped women one more—she is more beautiful now then she will ever know.
I look up through the rain drops at the clouds. I see the moon through a small break in the clouds; it’s only a small sliver low in the eastern sky. I cross the street, jump over a fence and walk around the back of a house. I crawl beneath a window and look. A women is getting dressed. I hear pounding one her door, it swings open. A man walks in and starts to shout, “You fucking whore. I’ve heard what you’ve been doing, spreading your legs for anything with a dick. Didn’t I raise you to be better than that, didn’t I?†She doesn’t answer. He picks her up and throws her on the bed. He tears her bra and panties off. He pulls his underwear off and throws it to the side. He jumps onto the bed, she tries to push him off. He grabs her wrists and grind his crotch into hers. “Is this what you want? I’ve got a dick, don’t you want to fuck it?†He penetrates her. She starts to cry, starts to plead, starts to beg. “Please daddy, don’t do this. No. No. Stop, please.†The voice is familiar in some way, I don’t know why.
She turns her head toward the window, her blue eyes seem to look right through me. I turn around and see it far away, barely visible. Even far away I feel its pull, I want it even though I hate it. I want it even though it can only hurt me; I want it even with everything it has done to me. Squeaking springs add to the cacophony of sobs and animalistic grunts. He tenses up and shots himself inside her. He lies there, probably savoring the moment—he hasn’t had this much power over his daughter in a long time. He pulls himself out, she lies there, tears flowing from her eyes. He walks toward the door, “I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t want to have to punish you, you made me do it.†I couch down and move back around to the front of the house. I cross the street as I look behind me—it watched, the Spire, it’s seen everything.
I look up through the branches, the clouds have finally broken. The crescent moon is lower in the western sky. She’s still on the ground, still getting fucked. None of them have pants now. I can’t see her cunt, but I can guess what it looks like now—red, engorged, leaking cum and her juices. Her back and ass are caked with dirt from the constant, hard, strong thrusts. He finishes and pulls out; no one takes his place. “Did you have a good time cunt? Maybe now you won’t lead men on like that?†He says something to the men around him. They stand around her, each with his limp dick in his hand. They urinate on her, they piss on her. They have already marked her cunt as their territory, now they mark her in an animalistic ritual. She lies there motionless, unable to muster any resistance. She has been completely raped; gang raped into submission. The men get dressed and leave her broken body on the ground.
I get up and walk toward her. I dare not turn around; the Spire is behind me now, always behind me. It’s taller now, longer and wider. It watches me move, it knows. I stand over her broken body. Bite marks cover her body, her thighs are bruised. She has been raped many times by each man. Her cunt is red, red tinged cum flows out of it. The pain she in is must be unbearable. Yet somehow I know it isn’t, somehow. She is broken. I lean over her and look at her eyes, blue and glazed over. I look into them, familiar, I know this.
I open the door to my apartment. The curtains in front of the door to the balcony are open. I see it standing there, gloating with the rising sun. It knows what I won’t, it know what I am. I walk into the bathroom and look into the mirror. Eyes. Blue. Familiar. Her face stares back at me. Everything fades to black.
I open my eyes and jump in my bed, my body covered in sweat. Light has begun to flood into the room; the sun has started to rise. They said this would happen, what happened to me would haunt my dreams. I would relive it; but in reliving it I would be powerless to stop it. That’s not what happened. I didn’t want to stop it, I wanted it to happen, I wanted her to be raped. I wanted to be raped, I wanted them to force me, I wanted them to take me, to hurt me.
I get out of bed. I feel the wetness, feel the arousal—my panties are soaked. I pull them off and look out my window across the balcony at the Spire. It sits there voyeuristically watching the city. I remember it; it was there every time they did that me, every time I was raped. I would stare at me as they fucked me, as they hurt it. It’s not a building anymore, it’s not a tower; it is every time they raped. I want it, I want the tower. I bring my hand down to my pussy. I need something inside me, I need it now. I stick my finger inside me, I need them, I need the Spire, I need cock, I need to be held down, force me, rape me, punish me. I want it. I need it. I cum hard and fall onto the floor. I start to cry. They did this to, they changed me. I want them now, I want to be used, want to be raped and there is nothing I can do about it. I bring my eyes up to it one more time, its gaze gloats over my sexualized body—it has won, it owes me now.
As you can see this isn’t what I said I was going to write, but it was so much more fun to write something from the victim’s perspective and write it as though she were watching what happened to her. Any comment would be appreciated as would any story ideas.