Story by All These Roadworks (2021).

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She had made the mistake of starting a session of solo masturbation early in the evening, which she had been forced to interrupt before reaching satisfaction, as she was scheduled to go see a stage hypnotist with friends.  As a result, she arrived at the theatre distracted and horny, and she was still in that state when her friends urged her into volunteering as the hypnotist’s gorgeous assistant.

 

“Now, Sunny,” said the hypnotist, after placing her into a trance.  “What’s on your mind tonight?”

 

“Being raped until I cum,” she said, honestly, and went on to describe an intensely detailed rape fantasy, to the wild laughter and cheers of the audience.

 

Afterwards, when her friends told her what happened, and what she did, she wanted to hide in a hole and die.  “No!” she protested.  “I don’t want to be raped, not really!  It was just - I don’t know - an erotic thought, not something I really want to happen.”

 

But when the others had gone, and she was alone in the car park with her friend Michael, he said, “I think you do want to be raped, though, Sunny.”

 

“Michael, don’t be gross,” she said.

 

“You haven’t had a boyfriend, ever, and I don’t think you’re gay or asexual,” he said.  “I think you’re too embarrassed to consent to sex, and so you fantasise about someone forcing you.”

 

“Michael, seriously, stop,” she said.  She was blushing.  Her pussy was wet - presumably from the masturbation earlier, she thought.

 

“I’ll tell you what, Sunny,” he told her.  “I’ll come by your house next Friday at 8 pm.  And if the door happens to be unlocked, I’ll come in.  And if I happen to find you naked inside, I’ll force you down onto the couch and kiss you and grope you.  And if, after that, your pussy is wet, I’ll rape you.  And if you don’t want it, you just need to keep your door locked on Friday, and we’ll never speak about it again.”

 

She blushed even deeper, and said nothing, not making eye contact, hurrying away to her car.

 

By Friday, she had forgotten all about it.  That is, the conversation had replayed itself in vivid detail in her head hourly, and she had an intense recollection of how wet she had been, and being aware of how near Michael was, and the smell of his cologne, but it wasn’t something she was actually *thinking* about.

 

At 8 pm, her door was unlocked, not because she intended it to be unlocked, but just because she never locked it when she was home.  She was in the lounge room, near the piano, so she didn’t hear it quietly open to admit an intruder.

 

She was naked, other than stockings and high heels.  She had undressed after work, and showered, and thought about going out to get dinner - it was a real intention she had - and had gotten as far as putting on perfume and makeup and her stockings and high heels, before deciding that it was all too hard.  She was home alone.  It was her home.  Why shouldn’t she wander around naked?

 

“Hello, Sunny,” said Michael from behind her.  “I knew you wanted this.”

 

She spun around, and squeaked in alarm, instinctively covering her tits and squeezing her legs together to try and hide her cunt.  “Michael!” she said.  “No!  I forgot!  I didn’t mean...”

 

“Yes, you did,” he said, smiling.  He stepped towards her.  “Show me those tits, Sunny.”

 

“No!” she protested, trying to back away.  Her ass hit the piano, causing a rude jangle of noise as it depressed the keys.

 

“You’re going to enjoy this, Sunny,” Michael told her.  “And it’s okay if you’re not going to immediately show me those tits.  The fantasy you described under hypnosis was quite violent, wasn’t it?  You needed to be slapped several times before you submitted...”

 

“No!” she squealed again, louder - although not so loud that anyone might hear. 

 

Michael ignored her, stepped forward, and slapped her across the face.  She squeaked, and raised her hands to protect her face, exposing her tits, and Michael immediately reached out and grabbed her left boob in a vice grip and pulled hard.  She wailed at the agonising pain, stumbled forward on her high heels, and then fell to the floor on all fours.

 

“You look good like that, Sunny,” he said.  “Now, let’s have some fun.”  He reached down and grabbed her hair and started to pull.  She reached up to try and knock his hand away, which gave him an opportunity to grab her left wrist as well, and flip her onto her back, tits up.  Pulling on her hair and her wrist, he dragged her across the carpet towards the bedroom.  She felt the carpet rubbing against her ass as she was dragged through the bedroom doorway, and then lifted bodily and thrown onto the bed.

 

She felt tears coming.  “No, Michael,” she said.  “It’s a mistake.  I don’t want to be raped.  Please, I don’t want to be raped.  I’m not on the pill.  I’m a virgin.  I don’t want to lose my virginity to rape.  Please.  Please.”

 

He slapped her face again, and then, after a short struggle with her, managed to pry her legs apart.  She really did start to weep then, because as he reached out to finger her cunt, she knew what he was going to discover - that she was intensely, gushingly wet.  Her traitorous pussy was giving the signal that it *did* want to be raped, and she knew there would be no convincing Michael otherwise.

 

“Please,” she begged.  “Please.  I don’t consent.  Not really.”  She was breathing heavily now.

 

“I know you don’t consent, Sunny,” said Michael, removing his clothes, exposing his throbbingly hard cock.  “That’s what makes it rape.  That’s what makes it hot.”

 

He grinned as he pushed her legs apart again, and pulled her to the edge of the bed so that her cunt was lined up with his cock as he stood at the bedside.

 

“And you know the best thing?” he said, slowly pushing his cock into her sopping wet fuckhole as she sobbed.  “Even if this is all a misunderstanding, even if you don’t really want to be raped... after that performance you put on at the hypnotist, nobody is ever going to believe you didn’t want it.  There’s a whole theatre full of people who heard you say how much you wanted to be slapped and forced and abused.  So this is going to happen.”

 

He started to fuck her, and she moaned between sobs.  She hated it, she didn’t want this, and she hated the fact that she was going to buck against him, and silently beg him to slap her and pinch her tits, and that she was going to cum from it, maybe several times, and then masturbate to the thought of it every night from now on.

 

“And it’s going to keep happening,” he told her. “Whenever I want it, featuring whatever kinks I want, whether you consent or not, for as long as I want it to.  Isn’t that right, Sunny?”

 

She was sobbing, so he had to slap her again.  “Isn’t that right, Sunny?” he asked again.

 

“Yes,” she sobbed . “Yes.  Whenever you want.  Whenever you want.”

 

“Say thank you, Sunny,” he told her.

 

“Thank you,” she choked.  “Thank you.  Thank you for raping me.”

 

And that was when she had her first orgasm.

 

(END)