|
|
||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
||||
| War Rape | Girls Forced To Become Sex Toys | Incest Rape Boys Free Pics | Free Anal Rape Pictures |
| Vanessa did her best not to think about what had happened with Mr. Taylor. It had been rape, or very close to it, and she figured that the less she thought about it, the better off she'd be, at least for now. She was sure she'd been mentally scarred, and she knew from reading magazines and watching television that she could expect the symptoms to begin to manifest themselves any time now: inability to sleep, nightmares, changes in her appetite, a horror of sex. The only problem was, she couldn't put it out of her mind. Her imagination kept on returning to that night, unable to leave the memories alone: the way he'd discovered her playing her private game of Slut; the way he'd grabbed her, stripped her clothes off and fucked her, never understanding that she was only pretending to be that kind of girl, that it was only a dress-up game she played for her own excitement. He had thought it was for real, that she was that cheap and that easy. So he'd treated her like that, tied her hands behind her back, made her suck his cock as he stuck his finger in her, and then fucked her right on her own bed, shooting his hot semen into her. And yet, every time she thought about it she became extremely aroused, so excited that several times she had to lock herself in the bathroom to masturbate just to calm down. She remembered the look in his eyes as they wandered up and down her body, almost bursting out of her skin-tight latex dress, her legs caressed in her wicked fish-net stockings. She had never seen a man look at her that way. Or she recalled the hard, almost painful way he'd grabbed her breasts and squeezed them, the way he'd shoved his cock into her, so rough and uncaring, as if her body was his to do with what he wanted. So she'd think about these things while she squeezed a towel between her legs and worked her fingers in her pussy. She'd relive that night as she fucked her own hand, biting her lip to keep from screaming as she came, imagining Mr. Taylor's big dick spurting its cream inside her and remembering her own excitement and delicious humiliation. She finally had to admit to herself that she'd loved it. She'd hated it and loved it at the same time and the memories wouldn't leave her alone. It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her and she wanted more. In fact, she wasn’t quite sure what she was going to do with herself now that she had experienced this touch; how would she ever find someone who could make her that excited? Fortunately for Vanessa, she had her never-ending schoolwork to keep her from focusing exclusively on such thoughts. The great homework gods cared not for sexual crises. Nonetheless, she knew she had decisions to make. The last thing he'd said to her before he left that night was that he would see her this weekend, that he expected her to be at his house on Friday night. Of course there was no way she was going to go, that much was certain. She simply couldn't face him after what had happened, after he had seen the way his behavior excited her. When he fucked her and plunged his big cock into her, calling her a slut and cunt and bitch, she'd just lost all control of herself and showed that she was all that and worse. And when he'd come she did too, screaming out her pleasure and begging him for more. No, there was definitely no way she could face him after that. So when the doorbell rang Thursday night, interrupting their dinner, Mr. Taylor was the last person Vanessa expected to see. She and her sister, Cheryl, were having an argument over some childish nonsense, and her mother got up to answer the door. Vanessa hadn't paid any attention until she heard a man's voice in the hallway, and then she realized it was him. "No, no, Elliot, we're just finishing dinner," her mother said in the hallways. "Come on in, come in, you can ask her yourself." Vanessa's face must have gone white judging by the way Cheryl looked at her, and when she turned around, there he was, standing in the very kitchen where he'd discovered her in her vinyl whore's dress almost a week ago. He was wearing the same jacket and he had the same easy smile and air of command about him. She thought her heart would stop. She couldn't look at him and turned back to her plate. "Girls, you know Mr. Taylor from the office? Elliot, this is Cheryl; I think you know Vanessa." "Hi, Cheryl." he said, shaking her hand with a smile. "Vanessa." he said, and she held out her hand and felt him squeeze it, his fingers lingering just a bit as he let her hand go. Her face was red now, and her blood pounded in her ears. From the look in Cheryl's eyes, Vanessa could tell that she thought Mr. Taylor was hunky, even if he was her mother's age. But then, Cheryl had always been a flirt. "Mr. Taylor's got a job for you, Vanessa. I told him you'd be glad to help." He smiled again and said, "Well, it's really not all that big a deal. Mrs. Taylor and I are going away for the weekend and we just need someone to keep an eye on the kids. Their aunt was going to watch them but she just had a little accident and broke her wrist." "Oh, that's a shame!" her mom cooed. "Yeah. It's always something." he grinned again. "So we need someone to stay over tomorrow night. We'll be back Saturday; just a little overnight getaway kind of thing." "Oh, that's nice," her mom said. It was clear that her mom thought highly of Mr. Taylor. But that's not what he'd told Vanessa. He'd told her that he'd be alone over the weekend. She knew there was no getaway weekend involved. She could hardly believe his nerve. "Uh, tomorrow I can't," she said nervously. "I made other plans." Her mom looked at her with exasperation. "What plans? You didn't tell me about any plans." "With some of the kids at school. We're going to…er…get together and study." Vanessa was a terrible liar, especially in front of her mother. "Well you're always complaining about not having any money." her mother said now. "You could cancel your plans. After all, you never do anything but study." "Yeah." Mr. Taylor said. "Because this is such short notice I'll give you sixty dollars." Her mother was impressed. "Sixty dollars! You hear that, Vanessa? That's not bad." "I'll do it!" Cheryl chimed in. Her eagerness made both the grownups laugh. "You're not old enough." her mother said. "And besides, you're still grounded for those grades." Vanessa had been avoiding his eyes, but she couldn’t keep this up without looking suspicious. She searched desperately for an excuse to get out of it, but she couldn’t think of anything. Her mother was looking at her. She had to say something. "Okay." "Good," her mom said. "What time do you want her?" "About seven or eight would be fine." It seemed settled. Mr. Taylor and her mother talked on about his fictitious plans—dinner, a getaway night at a hotel—and about his kids, a boy and a girl, 11 and 7, as they walked out to the hallway. Then her mother called her. "Vanessa? Vanessa, Mr. Taylor wants to know what you like to eat." Vanessa was standing by the table, holding her plate in her hand. "What?" Her mother pushed her out into the hallway as if she were bundling her off on a date and whispered urgently to her. "Go talk to him. Stop being so rude to the poor man. He wants to pay you just for helping him out." Reluctantly, Vanessa walked up to him where he stood by the front door. "I just wanted to know what you like to eat, for snacks and things," he said. Vanessa shrugged. Something made her look at him though. As if against her will, she raised her eyes and looked into the face of the man who had stripped her, shamed her, and fucked her not a week ago, showing her pleasure like she had never imagined. He had some hold over her. Her eyes were full of resentment and anger when she raised them to his face, but he saw right past them, right into her. It was that look again. That look of naked desire and lust, and all the resistance melted out of her leaving a hollow thrill in her stomach. Somehow he controlled her with his eyes and she felt her legs actually grow weak. "Tomorrow night," he said softly. Then he called into the kitchen in a cheery voice. "Good night Cheryl! Jenna, I'll see you at work tomorrow morning." He looked at Vanessa once more, and then he left. She wouldn't go, she thought. She'd make herself sick, or she'd go spend the night at a friend's house and lie if she had to. But she knew she couldn't. She was such a bad liar. In fact, she was such a bad liar that when her mother offered to drop her off at the Taylor's on the way to her night class, Vanessa could find no way out of it. Her mind raced even as she threw some overnight things into a backpack as her mother waited impatiently. "Your toothbrush? Don’t you want your toothbrush? And your books? You're not going to take your books?" Good mother that she was, she even waited to make sure that Vanessa got into the Taylor's house safely before driving away. He was wearing a shirt and tie when he let her in, and despite her numbness she realized that he looked very nice. He locked the door after her and pocketed the key, and she was trapped. 'Don't," was all she could say as she stood in his living room, "Mr. Taylor, I don’t know what you think, but what you did to me wasn't right. I'm not going to let you do that again, I swear." "I'm disappointed." he said, looking her up and down. "Jeans and a sweater? I thought you'd do better than that." She stood in the middle of the living room still wearing her leather jacket as he walked around her, appraising her. "Mr. Taylor, really. You know, you came in and found me fooling around, trying on some clothes I had. Just fooling around. But I'm not like that really. I'm not that kind of girl. I don’t do this. Certainly not with someone old enough to be my own father. It's disgusting. You know, I should have told the police. I still might. You took advantage of me. That's rape. I could still tell the police." He sat down on the arm of the sofa and idly played with a piece of rope. She realized now that there was all sorts of stuff on the sofa: rope, leather cuffs, gags, vibrators, a whole collection. Her eyes went wide and her stomach sank. She felt a thrill run up her back. "I figured you wouldn't be able to bring your toys," he said, "So these are my toys." "Mr. Taylor…" "Hey, I just thought we might play a little game together,” he said, looking at her pointedly. “You know, just fool around. I even bought you some clothes. Want to see?" "I've got to go." she said. She turned and strode to the front door. "Open the door please." He watched her from the sofa, playing with the rope. That look was back in his eyes and she was afraid to look at him. "You can stop that, Vanessa." he said softly. "You can just stop all that crap. You know you loved it. You loved every fucking bit of it. Didn't you." She stood at the door, her hand on the knob, her forehead pressed against the wood. "Please unlock the door, Mr. Taylor." He got up off the sofa and walked towards her slowly. "You loved dressing up like a little whore, and you loved it that I found you like that. You loved that I took you for what you were and treated you like a little slut, and you're lying if you say you didn't. I was there, Vanessa, remember? I felt how you kissed me and stuck your tongue into my mouth. I felt how wet your pussy was and how you fucked yourself on my finger, just like my little whore! You almost came right there when I tied your wrists behind your back, you were so fucking hot. So we both know what we're dealing with here, don't we, Vanessa? Don't we?" She was trying not to listen, because what he was saying was filling her with shame and excitement at the same time. "No," she said, "No. You're wrong. I'm not like that. It was a game." He came up to her now and grabbed her, turned her around and pinned her against the door with his body, his face inches from hers. She shook her head, her eyes closed tight. Just as he had that first fateful day, he took her wrists in his hands and lifted them over her head, pressing them too against the door. He leaned his weight against her, and she gasped as she felt the hard stalk of his cock dig into her stomach. "You're a slut, Vanessa. Maybe you don't want to admit it yet, but I know it. And that wasn't just some little game you were playing. You were trying out the role, weren't you? You liked dressing up like that. Just a little cock-hungry slut." he said as he wrapped the rope around her wrist. "So why don't you just admit it so we can get on with our show?" He had her wrists bound together now and he pulled her back into the living room. Tears welled up in her eyes and she tried to fight him, tried to free her wrists, but he pulled her around and threw her down on the sofa. Before she could move he was on top of her, one hand holding her wrists out of the way, the other pushing her jacket aside and pulling her sweater up over her tits. She tried to break free but his hand closed on her breast and squeezed hard, making her cry out. He grabbed her bra and pulled it up so that her tits fell free, then he sucked one into his mouth as she arched off the couch, trying to throw him off. "Stop it! Stop it!" she cried out, but he held her down and his free hand scrabbled at her jeans, trying to get them open. She tossed her hips, trying to get away from him but she felt his strong fingers open her pants, then the zipper, then his hand was sliding inside her panties. When his finger touched her they both froze. She let out a sob of shame as he touched her pussy. She was aroused and wet and she knew it, and now he knew it too. Everything he'd said had been true. She couldn't deny it now. Her body wouldn't let her. His finger slid easily along her soaking crease, then he pulled his hand out and showed his glistening finger to her. "Look at that," he said as she turned her head away. "You're already hot. Suck it!" "Mr. Taylor, no…" He pushed his finger against her mouth. "Suck it, Vanessa. I want you to taste you own slut juice. Suck it!" She opened her mouth, shame wracking her body, and she let him put his sticky finger in her mouth. She tasted her own musk, the undeniable proof of all he had said about her. "So you're a hot little cunt, Vanessa," he said as he slid his finger back into her panties and began to rub her slit again. "That's not so bad. I know you can't help it, can you baby? Your body just won't behave. See? You're already fucking that little pussy against my hand, aren’t you?" She gasped. He was right; she'd been humping her hips against his hand as if fucking it. She hadn't realized that she'd been doing that. It was like her body had a mind of its own. She made herself stop. "It just feels so good, doesn't it, Vanessa? It feels so good to have someone touch your pussy and suck your tits." he said as he continued to kiss her breasts and finger her cunt. "You can't help it if that's what you are. You're just highly sexed. It's not your fault. You need someone who knows what you want, that's all." She still had her head turned to the side, trying to hide her face from him. She didn't believe him. It wasn't true. She was a straight A student, a good girl who'd never been in trouble in her life. Not that she was a prude, it was just that she was so busy studying. She dated when she had time, and she'd made love before. It’s not like she wasn’t aware of her sexuality. So why would he say what he was saying? How could he accuse of that? He didn't even know her. But his fingers and his mouth felt so good, and she loved the way he held her down, her arms tied and held out of the way. There was no way she could fight him as he kissed her breasts and belly and played with her excited pussy. None of the guys she’d dated had never treated her this way. They didn't have a beard that scraped on her tender skin, and none of them had a mouth that was so hot and demanding for her, a mouth that had already known so many women's bodies and now wanted hers. Her lovers never forced her down and told her what she was right to her face, shaming her and making her wild with excitement. Her dates were just boys; Mr. Taylor was a man. It made all the difference. He was pushing her back into the cushions of the sofa and her little moans of protest were taking on a different meaning as he sucked a nipple into his mouth and lashing it lightly with his tongue. His finger was teasing at her pussy, rimming her hole and she wanted him to stick it inside her: he was driving her crazy. He caught her nipple between her teeth and bit down on it, not too hard, but hard enough to send a spear of pain shooting through her body and igniting a sudden gush of masochistic pleasure. "Oh God!" she cried out as she thrust her hips up against his hand. Her own body was betraying her, humiliating her. Her body wanted more. Her body loved being treated like this, no matter what she herself might want. Suddenly he got off her and stood up, leaving her lying there panting with her sweater pulled up over her boobs and her pants gaping open. He pulled her up into a sitting position and untied her wrists. Vanessa was confused, groggy, her head reeling from her sensual excitement as she tried to understand what was happening to her. Was he done? Why had he stopped? He pushed her to her feet and, with her wrists free, she ran a hand through her tousled hair, trying to get her bearings. "Take your coat off." he said, and she realized that she was still wearing her leather jacket. She slipped it off and just dropped it on the floor, something she would never do ordinarily. But she was dizzy and not herself. "Now take your clothes off." he said as he sat back down on the sofa. She looked at him in surprise. Her clothes? Her pants were hanging open, her panties showing, and her breasts were still naked, her bra was twisted and pushed out of the way. Her nipple still ached where he had bitten it and she could feel his saliva cooling on her skin. She couldn't undress in front of him. That was too much. The blinds were closed tight. She looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time: the television, the sofa, tables, all the usual accoutrements of middle class life. She couldn't believe this was happening. "I can't." "Yes you can." he said mildly. "And you will, right now. I want to show you what a slut you are." She made the mistake of looking him in the eye, and she was caught by the force of his gaze. Keeping her head down and burning with shame, she pushed her jeans down over her hips, down her legs, and stepped out of them. She lifted her sweater over her head and let it fall as well. He bra wasn't doing her any good, so she started to unfasten that too when he said, "Okay. Stop there. Now look at yourself." She was already looking down, but she didn't understand what she was supposed to see. He said, "You knew you were coming over here, didn't you, Vanessa? Of course you did. And look at the underwear you wore." She looked down. She was wearing one of her favorite pair of sheer black panties, very tiny and very sexy, and her bra matched, just a whisper of thin black fabric that made her breasts look great. Why on earth had she worn these? She hardly remembered getting dressed that morning. Had she subconsciously wanted to look nice for him? "You wear stuff like that every day?" he asked her with a laugh. Her face went red, and her embarrassment made her suddenly conscious that she was standing there mostly naked. She grabbed her bra and twisted it around to cover her breasts. Mr. Taylor got up and quickly picked up her jeans and sweater and tucked them under his arm. "Your clothes are in there." he said, pointing to the den. “I laid them all out for you. Bought them special." |