Once Upon a Time in a Train: Part 1

[angkorwat]

A slightly different kind of rape story. More in the rapists mind, more in his thought process.

Part 1:
I am a subway molester. Sometime I work in a group, sometime I work alone, but in the end the result is always the same: tears. I like power, I like to humiliate women and I like to see them squirm in terror knowing exactly what I’m going to do. Watching the anger and hate turn to resistance turn to hopelessness turn to resignation with each and every thrust, that is what I love.

Today I work alone. You have to be careful where you molest women—apathy makes things so much easier. Boring middle aged men who wished they were doing the same thing never raise a finger to help—all they do is watch in transfixed voyeurism. Getting the victim to realize you’re going to molest her is the first little joy. The crush of the crowded train always makes incidental contact unavoidable. The first few seconds that your hand touches her ass she has no idea what you’re going to do. But once the hand remains and the pawing begins, she knows.

Much as you would hope it were not the case, women will fight back, therefore, it is very important to make your victim feel both powerless or in danger. If she feels powerless, why struggle? Why try to escape the fingers penetrating, raping her cunt? If she’s powerless you’ve won; there’s nothing you can’t do to her. Of course that only happens in fantasies. No one has that little respect for themself to give into a rape that easily. She always fights, always tries to escape. And the fight makes the eventual victory all the sweeter. This one was no different. She tried to push my hand away, tried to move away, tired to get someone to see her, to help. They all saw; no one cared.

Since she’ll only be powerless when you’ve filled her with your cum, you need a different way to keep her from getting away. Violence is always the answer. Knives normally do the trick. The threat to cut, to maim, to kill, that normally silences a bitch. And when it doesn’t, run, they’re not worth the risk. If a woman keeps fighting, find an easier target—predators go after the weak and helpless, not the strong. I placed my knife to her throat and told her to stop or I would kill her. The words came out with an almost animalistic grunt. They need to be forceful, sure the knife might be real but she has to believe the threat is. If she doesn’t think you’ll do it, why stand there and take it? If you want to rape you have to be dominate, there are no submissive rapists.

She puts her hands at her sides and looks down. My cock starts to get hard—she’s given in. This is where being in a group helps. Though she may not fight now, if I ever take the knife off of her throat she’ll win. This is the most dangerous part. She could try to elbow me, to kick me in the groin, either of which would spell the end of my fun. If I were with a group they could prevent his, they would immobilize her. One on one she has a chance, in a group you’re going to get raped. I take the plastic tie from my pocket and bring both of her hands behind her back. With her hands bound she won’t be able to use them to escape.

I wish I could see her face. This is when she knows that she isn’t dealing with some amateur, no, she’s been taken by man who is going to do whatever he wants to her. Now, he legs are still free, but there’s an easy way to keep those legs from getting to high. I reach up under her skirt and pull her panties down to her knees. This has to be done fast, if you don’t she’ll almost always realize that she can kick you in the groin and then the fun stops. This time I do it fast enough, she has no time to react.

Many molesters like to think that their victims like it, that they can force them to cum. They don’t and they won’t. You can paw at their tits and massage their clits as much as you want; they won’t cum. You’re raping them; it’s about you, not them. Humiliate them, show them off in public, make them feel powerless, that’s what you have to do. I move my hand to the inside of her thigh: soft, fleshy, warm. I put my mouth up to her ear and whisper to her, “You want it don’t you? You want me fingers in your cunt? Why else would you be in public with your panties at you knees?” Of course she doesn’t. She wants to be anywhere else, but I wouldn’t be anywhere else. I run a finger along her slit: dry, closed and empty, for now. Her breathing picks up slightly—she knows what’s coming next. I shove two of finger in her unready cunt; getting them in is always difficult but so rewarding. She hisses in pain as I work them in despite the friction of the walls.

They’re are going to be in pain, it’s inevitable. They will never be ready, so don’t be surprised when after all the “fore-play” they still aren’t ready to be fucked or even finger-fucked. That’s why I skip right to the main course, why fuck around with the rest of her when you might as well just get the most fun the fastest? I push my fingers in half-way up my second knuckle and then quickly pull them out. The cunts always expect that. I push them and take them out again and again and again. Then something different happens. Cunts like to protect themselves. They’ll start drooling whether or not the women attached to them want them to or not. Blood is now rushing to her cunt, the inside is getting slick with her blood and fuck juice—just the way I like it. I push two fingers in all the way this time. I feel her shudder and brace herself up against me. She quickly moves away when she realizes what she’s done. I pull the fingers out, coated in her pussy juice. I put them under her nose and whisper into her ear again, “Smell that. You did want it. Your pussy is wet. Your pussy is begging to be filled, slut.”

I bring by hand down to her pussy again. By now you want to keep fingering her, you want to keep up with the assault but that would be predictable, that would be boring. Instead I find he clit and squeeze. She jumps and gasps. If I started finger fucking her she could like it, if she choose to, I don’t want that. I want her to feel pain; I want her to be humiliated. By now the musk of her arousal has spread—everyone knows what’s going on. Everyone watches. If they could, they would all rape her. Unfortunately I’ve had her body all to myself, I can’t allow that; why shouldn’t all the other men get to see this beautiful sight? I unzip her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Now she looks better—nothing to stop all the lecherous old men from seeing, her wet, inviting cunt. I put my fingers back and inside her pussy and fuck her with them while I spin her around. Why should the men in front of her be the only ones allowed to see her now sloppy cunt?

I stop turning and start grinding my crotch into her bare ass. My cock, fully erect for some time, she feels it press into her exposed ass flesh. Now she knows—she’s going to be raped. I’m going to fuck her, I’m going to unzip my pants, pull out my dick and rape her long and hard. I whisper into her ear once more, “You feel my dick don’t you? You want it, you want my dick in you,” I match my finger fucking with the words, each word coinciding with a new thrust, she groans, “You’re begging for, you’re cunt wants to be filled.” Of course she isn’t and she doesn’t, but I’m going to rape her, who cares what she thinks. She waits for the sound of the zipper lowering; it never comes.

Raping her now would be too anti-climactic. I want to savor it, I want her to feel even more powerless. The rape will come, but much later. If I did fuck her now, it would put me in to much danger. A rape here would bring back her strength, would make her want me caught even more. It would put me at a disadvantage—when I cum, who knows if I’ll be able to keep the knife at her throat; she may escape. No, rape should occur in a more secluded, more private, more secure setting where I can truly demonstrate my power over her. I pull my fingers out of her now sopping hole, that’s always hard to do, and wipe them off on her face. With my feet I move the handbag she dropped when I first brought my knife to her throat within reach. I take out her wallet, I need to find out where she lives—this won’t be the last time she sees me or feels me inside her. I find her ID and commit her addresses to memory and also take her money—it makes her I think I only wanted her bag to rob her.

I bring my lips to her ear one last time, “No, you don’t deserve my cock, whore. Cumming on a strangers fingers like that, you must really be desperate.” With that the train enters a station. I pull the knife away from her neck and quickly push my way out of the train and onto the platform. I always wonder what they do when I leave them on the train, bottomless, cunt juice streaming down their thighs. Do they cry drop to their knees and cry? Do they quickly get dressed and try to act like nothing happened? Do they try to run after me? Do the other men on the train overcome their apathy and gang-rape her? I don’t know.

I walk away from the station. I’ve got a few hours to kill before I pay my new best friend a visit. This one, she’ll try to forget what I just did to her, try to imagine it never happened. I can’t allow that, she’ll remember, of that I can assure you. My fun with her has just begun, she’s not getting away from rape this time.

Part 2 to follow at some time, hopefully this week.
As this is my first story, any feedback would be appreciated.

[dark_lady]

Very nice writing angkorwat. It's nice to read something from the rapist point of view for a change. Can't wait for part 2!

[c_unbon]

This is seriously one of the best things I've ever read. It's so frank, no bullshit. They don't enjoy it, it's all about the humiliation man. It's so real.

Loved it-can't wait for the next part

[angkorwat]

Second part of the story as been uploaded. Enjoy.

[Hailo]

That was really good!! I loved it