Hi, I'm Jessica, and this is the story of how a brutal date-rape changed my life... March , 2003... So I’m chatting with this guy online. He seems nice, and lives nearby. He likes my pic. I agree to go out with him. He offers to take me out to dinner and a movie, to celebrate my 19th birthday. He picks me up at my place, and informs me that where we are going is a surprise. We drive off in the rain… Surprisingly enough, we end up at his place. He says he forgot his wallet. Invites me in for a drink. I didn’t want to seem rude….. Sure enough, his wallet is on the kitchen counter. He leans into the fridge, and offers me my choice of a Bud Light or Miller Lite. I select the Bud Light, and he twists off the cap and hands it to me, opening the Miller Lite for himself. Small talk follows, and I pace my sips to his so that we’ll both finish and be ready to go at the same time. But when the beer is gone, he asks me to follow him into an adjacent room to look at his “art collection”. Foolishly, I follow, a bit apprehensive. He closes the heavy wooden door behind me while flicking on the light switch. Dim track lighting shines on the walls of the small, windowless room. Sure enough, each light is aimed at a framed picture, and it takes me a moment to see that all the pictures are of naked women. And a moment longer to see that they are all in bondage. “Art” to some, I suppose, but a little creepy to show a woman on a first date. Alarm bells began going off in my head even before I noticed the chains dangling from the ceiling beam in the unlit center of the room. Using a key, he deadbolts locked the door from the inside. Then he slid aside the frame of the nearest “artwork”, revealing a small wall safe. He swung the safe open, and hung the key on a hook labeled, in big, bold black letters, “deadbolt key”, which was next to a key on a hook labeled “handcuff key”. Then he slammed the door, and spun the dial. All of this took only a few seconds, and my mind still hadn’t caught up with the situation. But when he grabbed my wrist, I had the where-with-all to struggle. Using both of his big hands, he dragged me to the dangling chains, and I heard a clicking noise as metal clamped tightly around my wrist. He pulled on the other chain, and I realize that it was actually just one chain looped over a rafter, because my manacled hand was suddenly tugged up over my head. “On your knees, bitch!” he growled, forcing me down, while keeping the slack from the chain to a minimum. Suddenly, the other wrist was manacled as well. Now I was helplessly chained before him on my knees, as he sat down heavily on the carpet. We were both out of breath from the brief struggle. After a minute’s rest, he stood up and began to strip. “I’ll scream.” I managed to say, calmly. “Yes. You will. But first let me show you something, OK?” He picked up a cardboard box from the floor nearby. “This is just an ordinary cardboard box, except it is lined with just 4 inches of solid foam insulation. Along all 4 sides, and the bottom. And of course, the lid, too.” The box top was separate, and had a handle on top. He brought it over to me so I could see the yellow-y foam stuck to the cardboard. “And this,” he continued, pulling a key-ring remote out of the box. “This is a ‘rape alarm’. You really should carry one, you know. Lot of sick-o’s out there!” He pushed the buttons, and the alarm went off. “IT’S 130 DECIBALS. DO YOU THINK YOU CAN SCREAM LOUDER THAN THIS?” He dropped the shrieking alarm into the box, and slowly replaced the lid. And with the lid fitted tightly, the room fell completely silent, until he resumed his dialogue. “You see, my dear, you are in a room within a room. 2 x 4 sidewalls, all the way around, insulated just like this box.” He lifted the lid again so I could hear that the alarm was still shrieking inside, then again replaced it. “And that’s in addition to two layers of drywall. And that’s in addition to the fully insulated exterior walls of the house, you know, that pink fiberglass insulation stuff. And then of course there’s the vinyl siding. And the fact that my house is in the middle of a one acre wooded lot. And nobody’s outside anyway. Not with the thunderstorm. Yes, it’s still nasty outside, I’m sure. But did you notice, you can’t even hear the raindrops on the roof? Can’t even hear the thunder! And I assure you, nobody is going to hear you. Not even God himself. So. Still want to scream?” “No.”, I managed. “And yet, you’re going to. Ever had anal sex?” I shook my head. The father of my children had wanted to do that so badly. And we had tried. Several times. But there was just no way that the head of his throbbing penis, much less the six inch shaft, would be able to penetrate me back there. I just wasn’t built for anal sex! “Ever deep throated 10 inches?” I gulped, and shook my head hard, knowing that I couldn’t do that, either. Was I doomed? “You’re gonna” he answered. “I’m gonna stuff every hole full!” He continued to strip, down to his boxers. And then he began to strip me, sliding my blouse up my arms, then farther, up the chains. Then my bra, which he tangled in the chains to keep it and the blouse from falling back down. As he stared down at my naked breasts, I remembered how he had asked me online what my cup size was. I refused to tell him, but now he could see for himself how big they were, and I could see by the growing bulge in his boxers that he wasn’t disappointed. He then pulled my legs around in front of me, putting all my weight on my chained wrists. He quickly pulled my shoes off, then my skirt, then my pantyhose. He inhaled deeply and moaned, while I struggled to get my knees back under me so they could take the pressure off my now throbbing wrists. While I struggled to regain my balance, he stuffed a pillow between my knees, the wide way, and laid his shoulders and head on it. “Relax” he said, and then pulled my crotch onto his face…. I honestly don’t remember what happened over the next few minutes. I had begun to come to grips with the certainty that I was going to be raped. But for him to attack me this way, well, it was just shocking, and so unexpected, that I guess I must have passed out from the horror of his touch. I mean, I’m no prude when it comes to sex. I’m a mother of two! But certainly no man had ever approached me in quite that way before. The next thing I knew, he was under me, screwing me. Thrusting up into me. Roughly pawing and fondling my breasts. I was disoriented. I immediately remembered my situation, however I wasn’t sure how long I’d been unconscious, or why. Perhaps he had drugged me in some way. In any case, I was out long enough for some things to have changed. For one thing, my attacker was naked now, instead of still in boxer shorts. For another, I was being penetrated, not just licked. And I was no longer dangling from my chained wrists, but more like using them for balance, for they were now just above eye level. At first, I thought he must have re-chained me, but then I realized that he was now laying, and I was now kneeling, on a mattress. Maybe two mattresses, judging by how far off the floor we now were. And he had been to the safe, to get the handcuff key. It was laying on his chest. I glanced at the door, and at the safe, too. Both shut, and most likely locked. “Wanna be unchained?” he asked, even while pawing me; screwing me; raping me. I nodded YES. “And you’ll still fuck me?” I nodded again. “Willingly?” Nod. “Cuz you know, if you fuck me willingly, then it’s not rape, right?” Nod. “I mean, if you are on top of me, fucking me, and you’re not tied up or anything, then it can’t be rape, right?” Nod. I was willing to say anything at that point, just to have my wrists freed. “Cuz you can’t go to the police and cry rape, after willingly fucking me, right?” Nod. I hadn’t thought about the police. The idea of going to them had not even crossed my mind. I mean, sure, my “date” had scared me, made me fear for my life. But now he was pretty much telling me I was going to be released. And sure, he had shamed me, but I was confident that that shame could be left behind, in this heavily insulated room, some unwanted secret, just between him and me, that no one would ever have to know about, except maybe a few close girlfriends who would give me all the support and sympathy I needed, while listening to my misfortune with the appropriate gasps, and enough restraint to ask only with their eyes, the unaskable question: “what did it feel like?” But what Jimmy had not done was hurt me. Not really. Certainly not as much as would the tone of a police detective’s voice, implying how utterly stupid I was for getting myself into this. Police? No thanks! If anything, I should thank Jimmy, if that was his real name, for teaching me such a valuable lesson. What a wild adventure! What a truly great story for my diary! But the story would end here, not in some crowded courtroom. Here. With his rapist semen blasting up into me from below, while I kept my duress-induced promise, and gave my rapist the fuck of his life, my fingers running freely over his well-defined pectoral muscles. I may even fake an orgasm for him---wouldn’t that make his day? I’ll be his best date-rape victim ever, if only he’d hurry and unclasp these chains…. The key was now in his hand, but his reach stopped several inches from the locks. He taunted me. “I can’t reach. But I bet you can….here, I’ll put it in your mouth. Think you can unlock the padlocks with your mouth?” I wasn’t sure, but I was determined to try. I opened. “Wait!” he said, as he held the key out of my mouth’s reach as well. “I think you need some more of this… He licked the key, and then dropped it in a small vile of white powder. Replacing the cap on the vile, he shook it, then held the white-coated key to my lips. Through clenched teeth, I asked “what-is-it?” “Nothing you haven’t had before. Open.” “Cocaine?” I muttered? “Sorry. No coke to offer you. That stuff is illegal!” “What then?” “Viagra!” “Viagra?” “Yeah, it works on chicks, too.” Even if that is true, I wondered what made him think that I had ever indulged. “Why do you think you came so hard when you sat on my face? All it took was a little pinch of it in your beer earlier! God, woman, nobody’s ever fucked my face so hard before. I thought I was gonna drown in your fluids! And multiple orgasms at that! I finally had to stop licking you. You almost broke my nose!” “NO!” I denied, realizing that I really didn’t know for sure if he was lying. “No.” I argued, from the weak position of a blank memory. “no.” He pushed the key past my lips, and the taste of the drug filled my mouth. He stopped fucking me but continued to abuse my nipples and boobs, while I transferred the key from my mouth to my right hand, and unlocked the left padlock. “No fair.” He said, but didn’t stop me as I freed the other hand. His hands went to my waist, tightening in anticipation of a futile escape attempt. But I too realized that any escape attempt would end at the door, and end badly for me. So instead, my hands went to his chest and shoulders, and I began to move up and down, establishing a rhythm. In and out. Back and forth. His hands left my waist, alternating between my breasts and buttocks. I began to wonder if what he said was true, about the Viagra, about my orgasm. And then suddenly, SUDDENLY, I realize that it might be true; and as soon as I realized that it might be true, I realized that it WAS true. I gasped, and increased my tempo. His hands, upon my breasts for the moment, made a subtle shift from encouraging and leading my strokes, to attempting to slow me. “Stop” he said. “I want to change positions.” But I did not stop. Rather, I sped up, then sped up more. And he now tried to lift me off of him with his grip on my breasts. But I slammed down hard onto him while wrenching his arms aside, then pinning them over his head, falling onto him, my big boobs in his face as I continued to fuck. “Wait! No! Stop!” he cried, but I didn’t. And he came. Against his will, just as he had made me do. And his come triggered MY orgasm. And I didn’t stop coming until he’d wrenched his wrists free of my grasp, and pulled me forward off of his sensitized penis. “Damn, woman! Don’t you realize that when a guy says ‘no’, he means ‘no!’?” And so that is the story of my first date rape, though some would question whether I was the victim, or the rapist. It’s also the story of my first taste of Viagra, a drug which now occupies a more prominent position in my medicine cabinet than even aspirin. And finally, it’s the story of “Jimmy”, the online date-rapist so skilled at his craft that I think it is unlikely that he will ever be prosecuted. Indeed, I would have even considered dating him again, except for what happened next. For you will recall, dear diary, where we left off, he was still in a position of power and control over Yours Truly, by virtue of the fact that we were still locked together in his sound-proof rape-room, and only he knew the combination which would release the key, that would open the heavy door to my freedom. And he had still not made good on his threat to “Stuff every hole full.” Nor had he made good on his promise of dinner and a movie. But of course, the night was still young…. Dinner and a movie… Now the chain was running under the mattress, locking my hands off to the sides. A bungee strap held my legs spread wide. And of course, I was still naked, and so was he. I helplessly awaited what I assumed would be another violation of my vulnerable vagina. From a cabinet, he produced a couple of bizarre objects, narrating his actions. “this is a hair-holder” he said, showing me two lengths of copper pipe, bolted one on top of the other, wing-nuts at the ends to control how tightly they squeezed against each other. And sure enough, he fished a great deal of my shoulder-length hair between the pipes, and tightened the wing-nuts. Then he stuffed the device between the mattress and box-springs, bending my head back over the edge of the mattress, and securing it firmly there. I couldn’t lift my head, or even turn it from side to side, not even an inch. “And this” he continued, working quickly, “is a hole gag, also known as a ring-gag.” As my eyes adjusted to seeing the world upside down, he lowered the metal ring to where I could see it. It was about as big around as D-cell flashlight, in fact, that’s what I thought it was, at first, a holster for a big flashlight, or knightstick, like the cops carry. Because it had a leather strap attached to it. Actually, two leather straps. I didn’t understand, and he must have seen the confusion written on my face. “It’s for your own protection, really. You see, some women would actually make the fatal mistake of trying to bite a man who was raping them.” With that, he forced the shiny metal ring into my mouth, behind my front teeth, propping my mouth open as wide as it would go. I felt him securing the leather straps behind my head. But still, I didn’t fully understand. I’d had the opportunity to bite him. His finger, his shoulders. Maybe even his ear! Why did he think I’d try to bite him now? Suddenly, my field of vision was filled by his hairy belly, with the bobbing shaft of his fully erect penis throbbing in front of it. Actually, this was the first time I had seen it, and it looked even larger than it had felt inside of me. Then he began rubbing it on my face, on my cheeks, and on my lips. I couldn’t turn away. And I knew he would want me to suck on it, but I didn’t see how I could, with this insidious hole gag, forcing my lips so wide apart. “Aren’t the rape laws silly?” he asked. “They all say that for there to be rape, there has to be ‘penetration, no matter how slight’ of a man’s penis into an unwilling person’s vagina, mouth, or anus. I mean, I’d really like your opinion on that right now. I mean, what feels more like rape, to you: This?” He continued rubbing his penis all over my face, “or this?” he poked just the very tip of the head into my mouth, past the ring gag, without touching me in any way. “This?” he said, forcing it between my breasts, while mashing them around it with both hands. “or this?” , returning it to just within the boundries of my lips. I felt like I was at the optometrist, being asked “is this one better, or this?” He continued. “NOT rape”, he said, forcing his testicals into my mouth, while mauling my sore breasts. “RAPE!” he said, pushing his corona an inch past my teeth, still not touching the inside of my mouth with it, as if he were a kid playing the Milton-Bradley’s “Operation”. “Not rape; Rape; Not rape; Rape.” His penis still had not touched the inside of my mouth, and I began to wonder if he was waiting for me to answer him in some way, like when a dentist asks you about the weather even when he has your mouth propped open with 3 fingers and a bunch of instruments. Finally, he pulled back a few extra inches, and from somewhere, produced a big tube of KY jelly. “This might taste terrible, but it will save your throat from any real damage” he said, applying a huge gob of it to his glands. “Not rape” he began again, pushing the now gooey head past the ring. “Rape.” He pushed it deep. It flattened my tongue, and mashed against the back of my mouth. “It’s all bullshit!” His palms smacked down unexpectedly onto my breasts, and sqeezed them tightly. “When I think we can all agree that THIS is fuckin’ RAPE!” And with that, he rammed forward, hard. For the first time, he had hurt me, and badly. My eyes bulged open wide, and didn’t close in time to prevent his hairy testicles from smacking right into my eyeballs. His pubic bone smashed into my nose, and my poor throat felt like I had swallowed a whole orange. And my cracked lips encircled the very base of what must have been a foot-long penis. My arms and legs strained with all their might against the bonds holding me to the mattress, but to no avail. I tried to turn my head away, but couldn’t because of the hair-holder thingy. And as my lungs began to cry out for air, I tried with all the strength of my jaw to close my mouth to the inhumane penetration. But my jaws were no match for the ring of steel between them. “See!” he said. “You just tried to bite me, didn’t you? Why don’t you rape victims realize that you can’t bite your rapist! You’d be dead! Any rapist would kill any woman who tried to bite his cock! That ring-gag just saved your life, Jessica!” With that, he withdrew, all the way to the tip. I took a breath as he began pushing forward again, and I gurgled in denial as this time he slid without pause past the entrance to my gullet. This time, when it struck the hilt, I gagged. It was a dry heave, and I was thankful that I had starved myself all day in preparation for the birthday dinner he was going to buy me. He moaned as my gag reflex milked him, and pulled back. Then in, and back out again, as I fought to suppress my gagging, and struggled to inhale a lungful of air at each retreat. He continued to maul my breasts as he fell into a steady rhythm, and I managed to reduce my convulsions to every 5th stroke, then every tenth, then I quit gagging altogether as I learned to relax completely, and swallow hard on each in-stroke. It took every ounce of my concentration to breathe at just the right time, and swallow at just the right time, all while enduring an oral rape of terrible brutality. His commentary resumed. “You know what I love about oral rape? It’s the closeness. The intimacy. Knowing that I’m fucking YOU, the person, and not just your body. Know what I mean?” Even with the hair-holder still doing its job, and even with his lengthy shaft giving me sword-swallowing lessons, I tried to shake my head “no”, wondering if a motion so slight that it might be invisible to the naked eye might somehow be transmitted to his loins. It was, though he evidently didn’t feel the need to stop while he explained himself. The strokes continued, slow and steady. “OK, let me give you an example. Sometimes, when I’m raping a woman in the ass, she actually passes out completely. You know, from the pain. Because of my size and all. And it’s hard to feel like you’re really connecting with someone when they are unconscious, you know? I mean, only a real sick-o would be into that. But even when I’m not hurting a victim, or humiliating her by screwing her up the tail; even when we’re face to face, and I’m being gentle, and I know I’m not hurting her at all, I can sometimes look right into her eyes, and it feels like she’s not even there. You know how rape victims sometimes say ‘it felt like I was floating, over my body, and just watching what he was doing to me…’ They call it ‘disassociation’, and it’s very hurtful to a rapist. But JUSTTRYTODISASSOCIATETHIS, BITCH!” His thrusting became uncontrollably violent, and I began to struggle again, to gag, again. To suffocate, again. “TRYTOPRETENDTHISISN’THAPPENING, BITCH!” He screamed, crushing my tits as I squirmed in frantic panic. “try-to-ignore-my-big-manhood-stroking-an-inch-from-your-brain, two-from-your-heart! AND-JUST-TRY-TO-NOT-SWALLOW-THIS-LOAD, SUSAN! ARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!” Memo to guys: Even under the worst circumstances, we hate being called by another woman’s name. But nevermind that now; the transfer of semen was about to begin. I felt him stiffen, his fingers digging even more painfully into my boobs. I gave up on the idea of breathing, and instead prepared myself to swallow. I could almost hear the churning in his nuts, pressed firmly now into my forehead. I felt the pulsations pass my lips, felt the head of his weapon swell, and then felt goo begin to puddle in my esophagus. “Swallow.” I thought. “Swallow quickly so I'll be able to BREATHE as soon as he pulls out….” Jimmy began to pull back as his spurts grew weaker. My lips were no longer mashed into his pubic hair. My convulsing throat tube shrank back to normal size as the head retreated back into my mouth. Another spurt coated my tongue, and then he pulled past my teeth, smearing the final few drops of white stuff onto my cracked lips as though it were chapstick. As he sat back on his heels and then lay down on his back, I sucked in a huge breath, cough it back out, and then sucked in another. He looked up at my cum- stained face, with my mouth still gaping wide open. “Damn girl, I fed you, and you still look hungry!” He got up, and I heard the sound of a microwave oven door open and close. Beep-beep-beep. And then he was there, unfastening my limbs, my hair, and finally, removing the insidious metal ring from between my raped jaws. He helped me sit up on the bed. “It wouldn’t have to be this way”, he growled. “You women need to realize that when we need sex---which is more often than you do---you need to just give it up. We shouldn’t have to beg for it! You women are the cause of rape! Especially oral rape! Jesus H. Christ, would it kill you to suck a cock once in a while? And fucking swallow, instead of spit, like we are disgusting for coming or something? FUCK!” As I went to respond to him, I realized that my mouth was still wide open, and needed a conscious effort on my part to close it. It was a painful task. POP! Still, it wasn’t my jaw snapping, it was the content of the microwave, over on the cabinet, that began to make noise. Pop! Pop! Pop! The smell of microwave popcorn began to fill the room. “Susan not a big fan of swallowing, I take it?” “Who?” “Susan. The girl you were pretending I was while you raped me.” “First of all, I didn’t rape you. We’ve got to get that straight, so there’s no misunderstanding when you leave here.” “You didn’t?” “No. Hell no!” YOU screwed ME, remember? Even after I asked you to stop. And then, when I fucked your face, did you even once say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ or ‘take it out’?” “I HAD A FREAKIN’ HOLE GAG IN MY MOUTH, AND THEN YOUR DAMN COCK, TOO!” “OK, but before I put either of those in, did you say ‘don’t’, or ‘no’, or ‘take me home’?” Indeed, I had not. And that realization now left me speechless, for a moment. DING! “ok, take me home now.” “What? The popcorn is ready! And I promised you a movie!” He was emptying in the popcorn into a bowl, and he picked up a remote, brought it to the bed along with two more beers. “Is this one drugged?” I asked. “Why no, it isn’t. How thoughtless of me, where’s that vile…” “NO, no, it’s fine.” I took a swig, and he sat down beside me on the bed. He pushed a button on the remote, and very high resolution, flat-panel TV came to life behind what must have been a two-way mirror. “I’ve got all the great movies on DVD, or at least all of the highlights. The Accused. Bad Boys. Penitentiary 2, Death Wish, Lipstick, I spit on Your Grave, Irreversible. Which rape scene do you want to watch first?” “You only have rape scenes?” “Well, yeah! What else is worth watching? I’ve also got some from just regular TV, that are a bit milder, if you prefer. Even some soap opera ones. Chicks seem to like the General Hospital rape from 1979, when Laura was raped by Luke, and they fell in love and got married.” “Actually, do you have one where the woman hates the man’s guts, and wishes he would drop dead?” “Lipstick it is, then!” he pushed some buttons on the remote, and held the popcorn bowl to my naked chest as cheap porno music began to play. I pushed away the popcorn, but continued to sip on my beer as the maniac music composer smeared lipstick on the face of the beautiful cover girl, ripped her clothes off, and tied her to the bed, face down, so that he could enter her from behind. “That’s gonna be you, before the night is over.” Having found his vile of white powder, he sprinkled it over the popcorn as if it were salt. And then began munching away. Just then, the actress screamed “OH MY GOD, YOU’RE KILLING ME!”, in a way that she probably wouldn’t have if her rapist had merely penetrated her vaginally from behind….” I ran to the door, naked, and began banging on it. “Take me home right now. Let me go. I want to leave.” “Nonsense! I still haven’t given you your birthday spanking yet!” He now was coming toward me, smacking his open palm with a doubled-up leather belt. Then he grabbed my wrist, pulling me away from the solid door. “Noooooo! HELP, RAPE! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!” He lifted the lid off the insulation box. The rape-alarm was still blaring it’s reminder that no one outside of this room could hear anything. I was tossed back onto the bed, and after a pretty much one-sided wrestling match, was secured there firmly, once again in four-point restraint, only this time, face-down. The popcorn was spilled, and so were the beers. The DVD had gone on to the next rape scene, also an anal rape, this one from the movie Irreversible. In French. My French was a bit rusty, but I could make out enough words to understand the brutality of the attack on poor Monica Belluci. Meanwhile, he’d shut off the rape alarm. One of the beer bottles had broken when it hit the floor, and he had cut his bare foot on a shard of glass. And for this, he was mad at ME! “YOU UNGRATEFUL CUNT! I TRY TO GIVE YOU A BIRTHDAY THAT YOU’LL NEVER FORGET, AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME! GET READY TO COUNT, CUNT!” WHACK! Like the space between thunder and lightning, it took moment between the rapport and the explosion of agony. He had struck me with the thick leather belt! Certainly as hard as he could. “That’s one. Now you count.” “ What? What do you” WHACK! “AAARRRGGGHHH! Oh my GOD! Stop! Don’t do it again, Oh my god! Please!” “OK, then THAT’S one. Now you count. What comes after one, bitch?” WHACK! “two? Two! TWO!, Oh my god, TWO, OK? I said it. Now stop, OK?” WHACK! “THREE! Oh my god, how many more? No more, OK?” “How many more do you think, birthday girl?” WHACK! “NO! I can’t take 19 more!” “OK, then we’ll have to start over from 1….” “FOUR! That was four!” “Very good! Now, we’re gonna go through the rest of these one right after the other. Don’t mess up, OK? Cuz I’m really beginning to like you, Jessica, and I don’t want you to make me hurt you any more than necessary, OK?” “FIVE!” I cried. “No, no, see, I haven’t hit you yet. You’ve got to wait until I hit you, then count. OK?” WHACK! “SIX! SIX!” “No, that was 5. Come on, do we have to start over?” “No, please, I can’t start over, I can’t. But see, it really was six. Because you didn’t count the first one, and that wasn’t fair, because I didn’t understand what was happening, so please, let the next one be seven, because I’ll die if you whip me more than 15 more times…” “Tell you what. I’m impressed with your math skills. Most of my victims couldn’t add 2 + 2 while they are being whipped. So I’ll tell you what, not only will I call it 7, but I’ll throw away the belt, and finish your birthday spanking with my open palm, IF you give me a birthday kiss. But it’s got to be a good kiss. Like you love me. Like I’m Brad fuckin’ Pitt. And it’s gotta be YOU kissing ME. With tongue. Until I pull away. Deal?” “Yes.” And God help me, I kissed him. I kissed my rapist. A good kiss. Like I loved him. Like he was Brad Pitt. I attacked his mouth with my tongue. Until he pulled away, and when he did, he said “wow”, and I knew, from that simple statement, that he had never, ever been kissed like that before. The rest of the birthday blows fell softly, and if they hurt, it was only because they awakened the real lashes that had preceded them. And with each SPANK, he massaged the buttock, rubbing it so that the net effect was a soothing of the old pain, rather than the delivery of more. The last couple of spanks were merely love-taps, and finally, each of his hands rested upon one of my buttocks. Rubbing. Massaging. But then, clearly spreading. And then, a hardness between them…. My head jerked up. The plasma TV now showed several men bending a naked girl over a fallen log. One man stood naked behind her, and thrust forward. And once again, the blood-curdling scream she uttered more than implied that he had not entered her vagina. The pressure against my tiny anus increased, and a tentative thrust and the agony that ensued gave me a clue as to how far I was going to be asked to stretch, and how painful it was going to be. “Please,” I whispered. “An inch lower. Make love to me. Like I was your girlfriend….” “Yeah?” “Yeah, baby.” “Well, SUSAN was my girlfriend. AND SHE WOULDN’T TAKE IT UP THE BUTT!” Suddenly, I screamed louder than the star of I Spit on Your Grave was screaming. Louder than the rape whistle. So loud that God MUST have heard, even though all of the soundproofing. The mirror in front of the Plasma TV almost shattered in response to the high notes I hit. For he had rammed his enormous prick half-way up my colon, stuffing it completely full. Then seeing no reason to fuck around, he shoved the other half in as well. “NOOOOOOOOOOO! Take it OUTTTT! I’ll do anything else you want, ANYTHING!” But evidently, he had the thing he wanted most. His huge cock, stuffed all the way up my virgin tight behind. The incredible pain mounted and intensified as he began to move in and out, at first slowly, but then faster and faster. Everything but the unbearable agony faded from my mind, as my frantic screams turned to sobs, and I began to fade in and out of consciousness. I awoke to the sound of his snoring, and realized he was still inside of my painfully throbbing asshole. Apparently, the Viagra had kept him semi-hard even after his climax, which for all I know, took place hours ago. The screen from the finished DVD cast a blue tint over the rape-room. “Would you mind getting off of me?” I asked, nudging his face with my head. “Oh, yeah. I gotta pee.” He informed me. “Go ahead”, I said, CLEARLY meaning “go ahead, get off of me and go someplace, anyplace else and pee.” But instead, he literally went ahead. And peed. Into my bowels. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooo”, I protested, all the while. It stung a little, and humiliated me a LOT. Then he popped out, got up, and returned with still another torture in store for me. This time, something he called a “drilldoe”. “The pee, you see, gets rid of the semen evidence. But only if it is stirred really, really well.” He revved the drilldoe. It was a latex sex toy�"a rippled “butt-plug”---attached to a cordless drill. And he promptly shoved it straight up my ass. Then pulled the trigger! The big, soft plug began slow, lazy revolutions inside me. “Do you know what a ‘safe-word’ is?” he asked. “A what?” “It’s a word that couples use when they play rape games. When they both know the guy is going to just continue if the chick says ‘no’ or ‘stop’ or ‘take it out’. A different word, like ‘uncle’, or ‘red light’ that really means it’s time to stop, that we are going too far.” “Great. So what’s my safe word.” “I’m not tellin’. It’s a secret. But when I hear you say it, I’ll stop.” With that, he pulled the trigger harder, and shoved the drilldoe deeper. “How does it feel?” “Uggggh!” It felt awful! “It’s stirring my guts up inside!” Then it went faster still, and deeper. “ARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!” “That’s as fast as it will go in the low-torque range.” He was moving it in and out, angling it up and down, and side to side, much to my distress. “About 450 rpm’s. Let’s switch to high-gear. It’ll spin three times that fast. Are you ready?” “Nooooooooooo!” The drilldoe stopped, buried deep in my innards. And I waited to be torn apart, to have my intestines twisted into a pretzel! With a click, then a whirr, my world exploded. “1500 rpm’s, baby, screwed straight up your ass! How do you like that, huh bitch?” In and out, side to side, as deep as it would go, it went. “No! Oh Fuck! Get it out! Stop! Slow down! Oh my God! Damn! Jesus, it hurts, it HURTS! Stop, please! My ass is on fire! Arrrrgggghhhh!” I was struggling against the bonds madly, but even if they came loose, I was pinned to the mattress by the awful drilldoe, and the only way I could really move was toward it. “What?” He asked, slowing it down, and pulling it out a little. “What what?” I asked. I was hyperventilating, sweat pouring from every pore in my naked body. “Just tell me what it feels like, bitch.” With that, he returned the tool to maximum speed, full depth. “How does it feel?” “IT HURTS! IT BURNS! IT’S KILLING ME!” “Ah, finally. We have a winner! That’s the safe-word, baby.” “Burns?” “Yes. See, in a safe-word situation where the woman would say it immediately if she knew it, it has to be a word that she wouldn’t think of in the beginning, until the suffering becomes really intense. You didn’t know it was going to burn when I first shoved it in. You’ve never felt anything like it before. No woman ever has, except for my victims. No matter how great of a lover you thought you had in the past, he hasn’t given you any friction burns with his cock. But a 1500rpm drilldoe, working in and out of a tight ass, that’s gonna get HOT, baby! And that’s when it’s time to stop. If I’d have really let it burn you, it could have gotten infected. You could have died! And hey, I like a good rape as much as the next guy, but I’m no murderer! “In fact, I’m gonna give you a rectal exam right now, just to make sure that nothing got torn or ripped back there.” From the cabinet, he now produced a rubber glove, and a jumbo tub of Vasoline. “Since the drilldoe went deeper than any of my fingers can reach, I’ll have to use my whole hand.” He said calmly, tamping a big gob of grease into my crack. “With a girl at liberty to pull away, I’d have to go slowly, and carefully, adding one finger at a time as the ring stretched open more and more. But I find it so much more erotic to just punch the whole fist in at once.” And with that, I felt him pressing his big, clenched fist hard against my sore and swollen shut anus. “No! I can’t. You can’t. It’s not possible!” But as if to defy all reason, my rectum slowly opened up and swallowed his fist whole. I screamed as he forced into me past the widest part of his hand, my throbbing, abused sphincter muscle clamping around his wrist. Then he forced it farther, twisting back and forth while moving ever inward, until at least half his forearm was buried between my buttocks. Then he began opening and closing his fingers deep within my guts, while I sobbed piteously, overcome with delirious agony. Finally, he yanked his arm out of me, creating a vacuum that threatened to pull all of my internal organs out with it. It departed my body with a final brilliant burst of agony as the hole was again forced to stretch wider than wide to release the big fist. Then it spasmed shut, and my body relaxed completely, as I realized that every muscle in my body had been fully clenched with what had been an unsuccessful attempt to prevent this ungodly impalement. The relaxation I now felt was so complete, that I felt myself falling in and out of consciousness. I was basically unconscious, but vaguely aware of him casting away my bonds once again, and that he was clumsily redressing me. He stood me up, and leaned me against the safe as he unlocked it; the leaned me against the door as he unlocked it. He was fully dressed too, now. And our now upright bodies pressed together. “Just one more thing” he whispered into my ear. “One more birthday gift.” He pushed my blouse and bra above my tits again. “A pinch, to grow an inch. Or two.” My nipples were pinched. Then CRUSHED! I gasped, looking down. His hands were clenched tightly around two pairs of steel pliers, the jaws of which were in turn, flattening my strawberry nipples! And then he lifted me right off the floor with his cruelly sadistic grip on my sensitive nubs! I kicked, I screamed, and once again, I fainted. When I woke up, he was dropping me off in front of my house. “Smelling Salts” he said, pulling his hands from my face, as I shook my head back and forth, waking up. My throbbing nipples and the dull ache in my ass told me that it had not just been a terrible dream. “Oh, and sorry about your hair being all wet and messy. I decided to piss in your face before we left. Hope you don’t mind.” He was grinning like a merry prankster. I just glared at him, hopped out, and slammed the door as hard as I could. “Remember, no cops!” he shouted, as I walked toward my front porch, the rain beginning to wash my hair clean….