Rape Stories

Warning!

Tit for Tat

by Psiberzerker

The phone rang in the hotel room. It was my loving wife of seven years, 'Trisha. She sounded upset.
"It's all right, darling," I soothed, "What's wrong?"
"A man," she sobbed hysterically, "He broke in, robbed us."
"Is that all?" I doubted it, she sounded a little shook up, "I'll take care of it when I get home."
"No!" she yelled, desperately terrified I would hang up, "He, he..." she couldn't go on, broke down again.
"What happened?" I prodded, "Did he hurt you?"
Her voice got real quiet, "He raped me," she practically whispered.
"Oh, are you all right?" I sounded concerned.
She sighed, "It was terrible," she admitted, "Not at all like I imagined." She'd been having violently erotic dreams for as long as I'd known her. Not surprising, she found the reality a bit harsher than her fantasies.
"What did he do?" I coaxed her.
Another hard painful sigh, "He picked the lock, I think. I got home, and he was waiting for me. He already had a bag full of our stuff."
"Was he wearing a mask?" I interjected.
"No," she admitted, "I don't think he was prepared for me."
"Then what happened?" I continued for her.
She drew a ragged breath, "He tied me up, blindfolded, and gagged me."
"What'd he use?" I wondered aloud.
"Some rope, sheets, I think he put a pillowcase over my head too." she recounted.
"This happened in the bedroom?" I was trying to piece it together.
I imagine she nodded, it seemed to be the place where she would. "He dragged me up there..."
I reached down, tapped the hang-up to make a distinctive click over the line. "I have a beep, can you hang on?"
"Ok," she lied, it obviously wasn't.
I hit the hold button, got up, took a piss. I was getting hard from listening to her. I always did, whenever she told me about her shameful dreams. In them, she'd always get captured, tied down, raped. Usually, there was the hooding, blindfolding so she couldn't see, or hear, just feel.
I'd also noticed how they made her feel. She always called them "nightmares", but then, she woke up wet, and wanted to fuck right after. That led me to the internet, research into the psychology of rape.
"I'm back," I said over the line, stroking myself lazily. "That was work, I have to dial in."
"It can't wait?" she pleaded.
"Sorry," I lied, "Will you be all right?"
"I'll get by," she figured.
"I've got a meeting tonight," I informed her, "I'll try to wrap up business then, and head right back."
"Call me, tonight," she whined over the line.
"Will do," I promised, "Get yourself a shower, I don't want that guy's filth in you."
I hung up with that, knowing that compulsive bathing was a common reaction to sexual abuse. I really did want her cleaned out, though it would also wash evidence down the drain.
True to my word, I unplugged the phone, and booted up the laptop. The lie was where I logged in to. Instead of the work sight for my software development company, I went straight for the digital underground. My investigations into rape online led me down here once, and I remembered the path of links to where I wanted to go. I knew the address too, but didn't want to type that into the location bar.
It came up, and I scrolled down the list. There was more to the sight than just a chatroom, but that's where what I wanted was. Pictures of women scrolled past until I found the one I wanted. I'd committed every pixel to memory, real in the head memory. None of this made it onto my hard drive.
Speaking of which, I could feel my own drive harden even further at the sight of her. Her tall skinny frame, fiery hair, emerald eyes, and tight chest.
From there, I found the guy's e-mail address, and sent a new message.
[Got confirmation, thanks a lot. En route to fill my end of the bargain.]
I could've finished right there, in my hand. All it would've taken was a click on the back button, and she'd be there for me. Instead, I shut down, tucked myself back in, and dropped the memory drive out the bottom of the case. My usual one went in after it, and I set it to defragment, and sanitize with a keystroke.
My company designs evidence hiding software for the cracker market. We also have a full line of security, antivirus, and stealth-ware for the other side of the cyberspace battle. I used none of it, because I could write my own instead. Most of it, two months of work was destroyed with that disk of ferro-ceramic.
Next, I headed out to the job site. I'd gotten my job done, and now it was my turn. It was a rather nice house way out of this foreign city. It bespoke of money, and it's large lot led to conclusions about
the owner's need for privacy.
At the gate, I hung a pass from my rearview, and was let through. It came right off after that, and fluttered out the window. I'd never handled it ungloved. Next, I followed the directions to the proper house, but recognized it immediately from the photos. Parking around the corner, I had a good line of sight to the bedroom, and master bath windows. Though the curtains where drawn, light would still shine through.
Checking my watch, I saw that it was getting on towards show time. I'd left a little extra time in case of traffic, and spent it now in rapt anticipation. I had it all, the layout, keys, security codes, and schedules. Amazing what you can get online.
Sure enough, the bedroom light came on shortly after she got home from work. If she stuck to her usual form, she'd head right to the shower. I waited just to be sure, and wasn't dissapointed. Finally, I started the engine, and pulled around to the front.
God only knows what they where thinking when they made "Universal" remotes. This brand can record any coded control message, for a VCR, TV, Cable Box, or even something as simple as a garage door opener. No upper middle class home is complete without any of these labor saving devices, I mused as I drove up their driveway, and pulled in to the garage.
Two car, I shared it with the wife's SUV. Of course, the man of the house was out. It closed behind me, and I calmly unlocked the door in back. As I wandered up the stairs, I listened to the muffled roar of the pipes, and replaced my driving gloves with vinyl ones. Would've been nice to go bare, but that wasn't real bright. With any luck, I'd get away with this, and make up for the missed sensation by doing it again.
The water turned off, making me freeze. I wanted to surprise her coming out, but at least I got in while she was still under the white noise. I crept up the stairs, carefully skipping the second one from the top, and pulled a nylon over my head.
I heard relaxed humming from the bedroom, and made my way towards it. The door wasn't shut, but there was maybe 4" between it, and the jamb. I peeked around carefully, and saw her in the flesh. Her dark woody wet tresses swung across her back, darkening the towel she had wrapped around her. Slowly, I pushed open the door.
Damn it!, it creaked, making her turn back over her shoulder. Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a breath to scream. I dove through the door, tackling her across the bed. It was muffled as I forced her beautiful face down into the mattress.
She fought, but that just made the towel come off. Her lovely little tits swung, and shook as she struggled. I grabbed one, finally touching them though I'd only seen them though a blue tee shirt before. They where so warm, and firm, and soft, I had to feel them some more. Damn these gloves, but I couldn't dare remove them.
The towel came free, and I twisted it before wrapping it around her head. Next came tape, which I secured it with. I didn't want to cover her lovely face, but there where neighbors nearby who could ruin this for me.
Her eyes stayed unfettered, though. I wanted to see the fear, and pain in them. They welled up with tears, and I was nearly heartbroken by that. Fortunately, my lust overcame my conscious, and I let my gaze travel down her body.
She had freckles. Not just the sprinkles over the bridge of her nose, but broad swathes seemed airbrushed across her chest. They really set off her pale flesh, the slight swell of her mammeries.
They heaved beautifully, but weren't quite large enough to really swing with such slight movement.
They where perfect 32c cups, should she choose to wear a bra. It wasn't really necessary, they where so firm, and round. I couldn't see even a hint of a crease underneath. Held down, as she was on her back, they spread only slightly under their own weight.
Her dark pink nipples where a bit small for my taste, it was obvious from the relative lack of areolae that she'd never even been pregnant. I pinched one, and it popped out reflexively. She moaned into the terry cloth as I rolled it between the balls of my thumb, and fingers. I took it as a compliment, though I doubted it was meant that way.
I had to sit on her to hold her down while I freed myself, and rolled on another latex layer. Again, it was a necessary, if evil precaution. I feared not disease, nor pregnancy, but leaving evidence would ruin any chance to try this again. I was enjoying this way too much to give it up.
While I was at it, I slipped a couple covered fingers between her lips, and felt her warmth. She was too parched down there to accept them, so I slid down to try forcing my prick in there. She struggled some more, so I smacked a tit to stop her. They bounced together delightfully, and I chuckled despite myself as she arched from the pain
That was all the opportunity I needed, I grabbed myself, and stabbed into her quickly before she recovered. Her lovely green eyes went wide with the violation, and she shrieked quietly through the thick gag.
Damn but she was tight, and rough. Even through the damned prophylactic, I got more than enough friction. Rather than just short stroking into her, and getting off quick, I gave it to her long, and slow. Quick lunges to sink into her, then long slow teasing withdrawals. Trisha loved it when I fucked her like that. I could do it all night, as long as I didn't get too excited, and speed up. I'd waited too long for this to blow it on a premature climax.
She grunted with every thrust, moaning, and squealing into the towel. She tried fighting too, but didn't do such a great job. I'm not that big a guy, but her thin weak arms barely had enough strength to lift themselves. That's what first turned me on about her. She looked so fragile, weak, and puny. As her husband, I would feel the need to protect her. As another man, it just made me want to ravish her. Like I was right now, in fact.
My hands naturally found their holds on her chest. I crushed her sensitive little titties in my grasp, making her gasp out of sync with me sinking into her. She arched again, painfully. The print from my attack still glowed redly on the side of one. I pulled back to leave a matching one on the other side, and she jerked again. They made that beautiful pendulous dance that so fascinated me. I hit them again, and again to set them back in motion. She moved too, so much that I didn't even have to fuck her any more. Her thrashings twisted me in side her, giving a nice variation to the usual in, and out.
That broke me down eventually. I wasn't used to it, nor was I prepared when it got to me. My climax snuck up behind me, and struck with the force of a brick to the back of the head. The anticipation, not to mention denying myself in preparation made it a eye slamming, ear pounding leg shaking rush of a nut. It was over far too soon.
She'd scratched me, then tried to remove her gag while I was so distracted. The flash of pain merely registered, then got drowned in the waves of pleasure washing over me. As my nuts twitched, I noticed that she still couldn't get it free. I grabbed her tits, and clamped down. My nails sliced cleanly through the tough nylon of my "examination" gloves, and sank into her soft smooth flesh. I pulled back, scratching half stars into them to meat at the tips. She screamed, and wailed, but to no avail. The terry towel stopped it there.
She went limp then, passed out from the pain, and exhaustion of fighting me. I had to pick her up to return her to the shower. Damn but she was light. I barely felt her weight until she came too, and started struggling again. That nearly over balanced me, so I threw her down in the shower stall, and twisted the knob.
Water poured down on her, and she shrank away from it. Stripping down, I joined her, and hauled her up by her ha ir. I roughly scrubbed her, forcing the shower head up to flush out any evidence that the condom might've let slip. I also snapped off her expensive fake nails. Her real ones where cut back to the quick, so nothing would've lodged beneath.
She wasn't all faux, though. I noticed the neatly trimmed thatch between her legs matched, and I saw no evidence of dyeing in the bathroom. This pleased me to no end. Finally, I left the water running, shoved her roughly back in, and slammed the pebbled translucent door shut behind her. A twisted wet towel through the handle, and the towel ring locked it nicely, and I watched her as I dried, and dressed.
She tried getting up, but shrank back when she saw my silhouette. I could hear her sobs echoing in the tile cell, her pitiful moans of fear, and shame. I hardened me again, but I'd spent long enough already. Finally, I was done, and made my way out. I had no idea how long that'd hold her, so I hurried back out.