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Old 05-07-2006, 12:06 PM   #1
Rheostatic
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Default "Stacee" (MF, nc)

The following is a ficticious depiction of a rape fantasy. Similarities to any real rape are purely coincidental and unintended. The following is for entertainment purposes only and the author in no way condones the reenactment of any of the details described herein. Sexual assault is illegal and immoral.

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Stacee
-=-=-=

The overcast night sky placed the city in even greater darkness than was normal for that time in the early morning hours. A nearby bell tower rang out 3 a.m., as I found myself on a street corner in a part of town I had never been. I was not lost, I was there with intent. I was following Stacee.
That’s what I decided on for the spelling of her name. Not a standard “Stacy” or even “Stacey”. No, this sweet young thing was far too exotic to be ordinary. Standing barely 5’5”, she had a slender build with long flowing chestnut hair. Dressed to play a room, she wore a sexy black halter top with a sheer midriff. Her pleated black miniskirt barely covered her slender hips and thighs. The skirt hiked up whenever she bent over, revealing underlying garter straps as they clipped to her black sequin stockings, and a black G-string which did little to cover that most sacred of shrines. What her stiletto heels gave up in comfort, they made up for in completing her seductive ensemble.
I watched for about an hour as she played the men in the room that were her pawns. A flirtatious smile would cross her face, and she would subtly lick her glossy lips and flash her deep hazel eyes at a multitude of men who would crawl across broken glass just to buy her a drink. A giggle here and a caress there, and she would be off to lavish attention on another hapless man, waiting for his turn to pay for her next round.
She was in-between suitors as I approached. Standing at 6 feet even with a muscular build, my jeans and plain green T-shirt were hardly in league with the finely tailored shirts and pants of her other would be suitors. But money was money, and I had been standing in the shadows far too long now. It was my turn to spend a few minutes basking in her radiance.
“Can I buy your next drink”, I asked, as I drew her attention. The words had not finished rolling off my tongue before she had already dismissed me with a waive of her manicured hand and a turn of her head. Not worth more than a moment’s glance or one of her seductive smiles, I retreated to the sanctuary of the shadows, forgotten as quickly as the next suitor appeared. She passed many more times over the next several hours, oblivious to my presence. She would later come to regret this ignorance to detail.
I found myself on a street corner past last call, ready to head home alone for the evening. As fate would have it, Stacee emerged from the club only moments later. She bid her goodnights to the other seductive sirens she had first arrived with, and started on her way home. I decided to follow.
She was unaccompanied, but quickly pulled out her cell phone to call a friend. A smart idea on the surface; someone who knows her whereabouts and could raise the alarm if anything bad were to happen. Unfortunately for Stacee, it created two problems that would ultimately lead to her downfall. First, with her focus on the conversation, she was unaware of the figure dressed in jeans and a green T-shirt that was now following behind, or of anything bad that was about to happen. Second, this figure was now eavesdropping on her conversation, and privy to some important information.
“Hi Glenda, it’s Stacee…yeah, just heading home now…pretty lame, I had, like, 5 guys telling me how they would so leave their wives to be with me…yeah, whatever, guys…no, I’m walking…oh no, I was just at “The Empire Club”, it’s only a couple of blocks to my place…yeah, it’s just me this weekend, Sheila’s visiting her folks and the landlord is still looking for more tenants…yeah, a little creepy, but I’m a big girl…
The conversation continued as she approached Clark Avenue. There she veered right and started to make her way up the front steps to the porch of the house on the near corner. With the stealth of a lion tracking its prey, I crouched behind a bush at the side of the porch, Stacee still oblivious to the danger she was in. I had followed to maybe confront her, perhaps scare her, maybe find out where she lived, but all of the pieces were falling into place too perfectly. Could I actually follow through with what I was now thinking, or was I just going to walk away to fantasize about the evening later?
It happened so quickly, I was almost as unaware of what I was doing as Stacee was. She ended her conversation at the front door, and turned her attention to fumbling for the keys in the black handbag over her left shoulder. No phone, and no one else around to see what was about to happen! With her attention averted away, I crept from my hiding space and made my way to the base of the porch steps. Fumbling with her keys, Stacee didn’t hear as I purposefully crept my way to the top of the steps. I then heard the tumbling of the lock as the key turned and the door swung open. In one fowl swoop, I lunged and seized my prey.
For the first time since my clumsy attempt at conversation at the club, Stacee was aware of my presence. Not clumsy this time, but direct and determined. With my right hand over her mouth and my left arm wrapped around her waist, I pushed Stacee towards the open door. I easily forced my way through the entrance, as Stacee fumbled in her stilettos to resist. Once through, I stopped and pushed back with my body to close the door behind us, all the time never relinquishing my hold on Stacee. As Stacee struggled against me, I hooked her ankle with my own, and leaned forward, the two of us tumbling to the rug at the front entrance.
Like a python clutching its prey, I gradually tightened my grip around Stacee’s mouth and waist as she struggled for freedom. I was in excited ecstasy. She could struggle all she wanted, but she was mine. I released her mouth for a moment to allow her to scream for help, then held fast and listened. Stacee was as good as her word. The house was empty, and there was noone to come to her rescue tonight. We lay in this position for several minutes, me pinning Stacee to the carpet from behind. I relished every savory moment. Stacee continued to struggle in futility, exhausting her energy stores as her adrenaline lost its potency. Occasionally my left hand would stray North to her tiny covered breasts, or South towards her sweet smelling muff, and each movement was greeted with a muffled scream and bursts of struggling that progressively weakened as time drew on. I continued to breath easy and free, while Stacee struggled for breath as if she had just finished a marathon. After 10 minutes, the initial shock wore away and Stacee was too exhausted to offer any further resistance. She had begun to accept what was about to happen
I leaned over and continued the psychological assault. “You don’t remember me, do you, you dirty little whore? Dancing around the bar, offering your skanky little body up to the highest bidder. Not good enough to talk to, eh? Well you’re gonna pay attention now, you skanky little slut. I’m going to give you a night you’re NEVER gonna forget!”
I continued to run my left hand up and down her body and Stacee let out a muffled moan of resistance. “Look at you, you dirty little tramp, look at what a dirty little slut you are! Yeah, you want it alright, and I’m gonna give it to you. I’m gonna stick it into every fuckin’ hole in your skanky little body. I’m going cream all over you. I’m gonna make you scream over and over again, and I’M GONNA MAKE YOU LOVE IT!
I reached up and ripped her top down, exposing her palm sized breasts and tiny little nipples. Stacee tried to scream against my right hand, but was fast loosing her voice. I fondled her breasts with my left hand as I licked her neck and upper back. I felt warm moisture on the right hand covering Stacee’s mouth. Stacee had begun to cry.
This continued for several more minutes, me fondling my prize and Stacee offering little more resistance than moans of despair. I could feel my hard member pressing against the front of my pants, crying to be set free. I reached back with my left hand, Stacee still pinned under my body, to undo my belt and zipper. Stacee heard this and reached back with her own left hand to stop me.
“Oh yeah, you really do want my meat, don’t you, my pretty little whore?” I teased, as I pushed down my pants and underwear with my free hand, I then grabbed Stacee’s roving hand and drew it back towards her face. I started to dry hump her, rubbing my raging cock along her cheeks and in and out of the crack of her ass. “You gotta, have it, don’t you? Look at you, you’re screaming for it!” I reached back down with my left hand. Stacee’s G-string offered little resistance.
I ran my hand towards the front of her snatch Stacee again grabbed at my wrist with her free left hand, but to no avail. She had a short tuft of that distinct dark hair just above her cunt, but her cunt, itself, was smooth and bare; recently shaven. I rubbed at her muff for several minutes, inserting two fingers into her pussy and exploring around. This was greeted with a new-found burst of resistance. Damn this girl was putting up a fight! And I was loving it!
I played with her pussy for several minutes, and continued to lick at her ears and neck. Stacee again settled down as her burst of energy wore off. I seized my opportunity. Shuffling down just slightly, I drew my throbbing dick down to her waiting hole and drove it back up with one quick motion. Damn this girl was tight! At first the walls of her pussy resisted and Stacee let out her most intense scream yet. Within seconds, the walls relaxed and I was in! I pounded myself into her over and over, each thrust met with a muffled moan of disgust from Stacee’s mouth. Our bodies lurched forward on the ground from the force of my thrusting, until Stacee’s forehead was butting up against the landing to the stairway along the hall. The floor was drenched in Stacee’s tears.
I slammed into her in that position for over 15 minutes, and Stacee lay there and took it. Without warning I withdrew from her cunt, and thrust my dick towards her ass. At first her body relaxed as the assault on her pussy ended, but quickly her entire body tensed up and newfound screams of pain erupted from her beautiful glossy lips. I slammed up and down with all my force, pounding my dick into her ass over and over again for what seemed like hours. The tension remained in her body as I continued to thrust, but she was no longer reaching for me with her left hand. She was petrified and motionless. I had broken her.
Satisfied with our encounter, I finally pulled out and lifted myself to a sitting position, straddling Stacee’s back like a rodeo rider. Exhausted and relieved that her assault looked to be almost over, Stacee lay still and moaned softly like a wounded animal. I slid up her back to finish myself off, coating the back of her head with my load and smearing it into her chestnut hair like it was conditioner.
Stacee lay with her eyes closed. Through this entire ordeal, she had never seen my face. I raised to my feet and pulled up my pants. I left the way I came, looking back only briefly to see Stacee slowly and silently curl up in a fetal position, her hazel eyes again open, but glazed over and staring off into space.
Stacee moved very soon after that night, and I never saw her again, my last sight of her being as she lay curled in a ball in torn cloths and stilettos. I sometimes wonder if she still frequents local clubs, or continues to offer up her beautiful slim body to men in exchange for a few drinks and the possibility of something more. Girls like Stacee don’t realize that nothing comes for free. As Stacee learned that night, sometimes the piper comes calling.
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Old 07-03-2006, 04:44 AM   #2
MKP4
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I've read a bunch of stories on this forum. This one was particularly good because of its pace. It set up quickly and executed. The characters were believable and consistent. Lastly, it made for a damn fine rape scene.

My only advise/comment is that the writing style (very intelligent with good prose) clashes with the dialog of the main character (gruff and corse). This normally isn't a problem if you avoid writing in the first person. This way, the reader can better differentiate between the story teller and the story's characters.

If you like writing in the first person (I do too), then just sync the stlyle to the character.

Otherwise, this is my favorite thus far.
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