Gender: Male Age: 70 Location: N/A
|Introduction: Maybe a rape story, maybe not.|
I watched her as she finished her shopping and then made my way out to the parking lot so that I would be able to see her leave the store. I saw her come out and started walking in a direction that would force her path to intercept mine. You wouldn’t believe how this chick walked. I mean she wasn’t just asking for it; she was begging to be taken. As you may have guessed I am the type of guy that likes to take. She walked up to me.
“What’s your name?”
“Wha . . .,” she started to say. I slapped her across the face –hard. “When I ask a question, you answer. What is your name?”
“Sarah ,” she answered looking down at her feet. Jeez, some cunts. You just got to love them.
“Do you see that blue Subaru over there?”
“That is my car, lock your purchases in your car, and then come to my car and get in the passenger seat. Go now.” I grabbed her by the face and brought my own close, “I don’t like to be kept waiting,” I hissed and then spit in her face, “Don’t wipe that off until you are in my car, Cunt.” I turned and walked away from her to my car, got in the driver’s side and waited.
They don’t always do as they are told, but a third or more do, and to the best of my knowledge, none of the others have ever reported me to the police. What I do can’t really be called rape. I don’t force any of them,
I just command and they obey.
Sarah opened the door and let herself in, “Now what,” she asked. My answer was to slap her again, “Clean your face,” I said, “and don’t ask stupid questions. Just do what you are told and you may not be too badly hurt when I let you go.” I was watching her legs opening and closing. “Is your cunt wet?”
“You are not to touch it without my permission.” I released myself from my pants as I started to drive. “Well, it’s not going to suck itself, you stupid whore,” I growled, “and don’t fucking drool on my pants either.” She was a good cocksucker, but I expected nothing less from her. She knew without being told that I wanted to save myself for later. Her cocksucking was not to bring me off but to keep my blood hot.
I drove into the so-called “Red Light District” and pulled into a whore motel that I had used for my other forays. I gave Sarah a hundred dollar bill, “Tell the desk clerk that you want the Presidential Suite for the afternoon. Also tell him that your client likes to play, and if anyone reports you screaming in pain and crying for help, please pay no attention. It is all just acting for the client.”
She got out of the car, and returned about five minutes later, with a very red face and little tears in the corners of her eyes. I didn’t even ask. I just enjoyed her tears. There would be more to come.
I parked in our assigned spot, pointing to my overnight bag on the bag seat. “Bring that,” I ordered. The Presidential Suite in this motel was a BDSM playroom. The management provided hanging rods, whips, floggers, and other toys. The clients were expected to provide their own butt plugs and vibrators.
This was not what Sarah had expected. But she walked in, and without being told, started to remove her clothing. “Has not anyone ever told you that when you dress yourself you should consider how you will look undressing? You really are a pathetic cunt. Put your clothes back on, I’ll return you to your car.”
In poker this is what is called a bluff. I had no more intention of letting this young lady free and unfucked that I had of not breathing. She didn’t call.
“Please, don’t send me away.” She was on her knees. She was begging to be abused. I kicked off my shoes, and undressed. “Kiss my feet,” I ordered. Without hesitation she was kissing my feet, and licking between my toes. I looked down at her. “In the top drawer there you will find a collection of wrist and ankle leather cuffs. Find a set of each that you like and put them on.” I got my robe out of my bag and put it on. I like the feel of light weight on my shoulders that a robe gives. It also adds to the dominance in a subtle way in that she is more naked than I am. There is no illusion of equality.
When she had placed the cuffs on herself, I took a collar out of my bag. It was, in fact, a leather dog collar, dyed pink with the word “SLUT” spelled out in rhinestones. I showed it to her and then collared her like the bitch that she was. I threw a rope over a beam that ran the width of the room, attached it to her wrist rings behind her back, and hauled her up so that her arms stretched out behind her, and she was standing on her toes. Next I attached a spreader bar to her ankle cuffs. I then took two nipple clamps and attached them to her outer cunt lips. I let them dangle there while I tied two lengths of thin rope to each of her big toes. Then I tied off the other ends to the two nipple clamps with a slip knot so that I would be able to shorten the length of the rope if I chose. She was now standing on her toes, and raising her big toe at the same time to give her pussy some relief. The poor thing was been stretched rather obscenely, I must admit. I stepped back to admire my work.
“Time for your tits to get a taste of my loving,” I laughed, and showered her two lines of clothes pins that I had removed from my bag. I called them clothes pin lines because that is what they were. I have attached nine pins with a strong string. Each string was about six feet long but the pins were gathered a few inches apart at one end. One at a time I began to place the first eight pins around her nipple, which I did not touch. Sarah was breathing very short breaths, and would give a little cry when each pin was attached to her. I held pin number nine in front of her eyes and then opened it over her nipple and watched her hold her breath. I waited for her to exhale, and let the pin close on her nipple. She was whimpering. I love it when they whimper. I smiled in her face and held up the second string, “And I got a whole other one to play with.”
“Please,” she gasped.
“Sorry, no safe words, slut. I guess you are going to have to just take it like a big girl.”
After I had finished the second tit, Sarah had moved from whimpering to crying, I re-exampled her cunt clamps. It looked like her big toes have been doing some dancing and had managed to pull the clamps almost to the edge of her lips. I was forced to remove each clamp and reattach it correctly. There was a scream or two during the process. I congratulated myself on my decision not to gag her. She was begging me to finish and let her down.
“But, my dear, I haven’t really started,” I replied. She knew if the way that I was holding myself that I was telling the truth. Sarah was learning what it feels like to be really defeated. The minute she decided to get in my car, she was broken. She just didn’t know it yet. But as she tried once again to stand on four toes, I showed her my next toy. I was an anal vibrator. Well it was not exactly a vibrator. The part that was to be inserted in her butt looked a bent attachment for a Mixmaster. And it worked the same way but much slower. It would twist and turn inside of her. I lubed her up and shoved it in. She was just sobering now, no words. She did give a very nice reaction when I turned it on. She was enjoying it so much that she lost her cunt clips. Sighing, I reattached them again, on the exact same spot as before, were the skin was slightly scraped and raw. By this time she was so wet that she was dripping on the floor. I inserted on vibrator inside of her, and tied it off to her upper leg, and then I tied off a second vibrator that was targeting her clit. Out of a whip case, a sex toy cattle prod. At its highest setting it was safe for humans. And it left no marks while its sting felt like you had been kissed by a bull whip.
Now I watch and wait. Soon she was trying to hump the vibrator. She felt the snap of the electric bull whip just above her clit. I hit her again with it on her upper thighs. The pussy clamps went flying. I decided to give up on them as a lost cause. She was now screaming without holding anything back. I stepped back to enjoy the sight and sound. As her screaming died down, the mechanical devices began another wave of passion.
“I won’t let you come until you beg,” I said, “and when you do come, I am going to pull these strings and eighteen pins will fly off of your tits. I would try to resist coming if I were you, but that’s just me. You suit yourself.” She was looking down at her poor tits when the passion took her away and she started to come, only to be brought down by the electric whip. This time I hit the base of her breasts, and she brought her heels down for the first time, and her shoulders looked like they were being torn from her body. She got back on her toes. The vibrators kept on working.
“Please Sir, may I come this time,” she said looking at me. She wanted me to know that she was really begging.
“You know I am going to pull the strings.”
“I need to come, please, please let me come.”
Another wave was starting. “You can come,” I said, “but you must scream that you are coming when you do. That is when I will pull the pins off.”
She just nodded. She was breathing short breaths through her mouth. She was drooling. And the next wave was coming.
“Fight it as long as you can,” I commanded.
Sarah was involved in a losing battle with her body.
“No, no, I’m almost there. Almost.”
“Look me in the face, cunt.” She obeyed. I held the strings and her eyes.
“Oh, God, I’m coming. I’m coming. Ahhhhhhhh,” she screamed as I pulled the pins from her tits with one jerk. She continued screaming and crying for minutes as I removed the vibrators. I freed her ankles from the spreader bar, and lowered and freed her arms. She almost fell into my arms as I picked her up and dumped her on the bed.
“I don’t care if you come or not Slut, but you will fuck with just one aim, and that is to make this cock feel good,” I entered her, and moved my hands to her throat. “Fuck like your life depends on it Cunt, because it does.” She believed me. She knew if I didn’t enjoy fucking her, she was dead. It was that simple. She was fucking for her life. First she sped things up, trying to get me off. Then she realized her error and started to love me with her cunt. She felt my hands on her neck. She was loving this cock like she had never loved a cock before. She knew I was about to come and started to gently suck me with her inner walls. When she felt the warmth of my cum flooding inside of her the only word to describe her orgasm was “sweet.” She has simply never come like that.
When we had both recovered, I went to my bag and got my tattoo gun. “Give me your right hand,” I ordered. She obeyed. In the webbing between her thumb and first finger, I tattooed one single tiny blue dot. She looked a bit confused but said nothing.
We packed up my shit, got dressed, and checked out. I made Sarah return the key. When she returned I could tell that she had been heard as far away as the model office. She was red faced and crying.
I pulled in beside her car. She threw her arms around me, “I need to see you again,” she said, “No one has ever made me feel so much before.”
“I'll call you,” I said as I pulled away. It probably took her a second or two to remember that I never asked for her number.
About a week later, Sarah was shopping, when she was approached by a very beautiful girl in her late teens. The girl showed Sarah her hand with the blue dot, then threw herself into Sarah’s arms and cried. Over the next months she saw more than ten women with the blue dot on their hands. They all had the look of someone who had experienced something profoundly beautiful, and knew that they would probably never experience it again. One woman told her that she had fucked more than thirty men since that night, and she just can’t come. She was crying as well, holding on to Sarah. Sarah cried with her. She knew what the other woman was talking about. Every day since then, she had been trying to come again. It wasn’t that she was unable to come like she used to before him, but now her orgasms seemed so ordinary. She got men to whip her, but none were able to deliver that combination of extreme pain and extreme love.
Many years later, Sarah died of a heart attack when she saw a tiny blue dot on her granddaughter’s right hand.
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