Rape Fantasy

I always feel strange prefacing my rape fantasy fare with a warning, but these days *shrugs* who knows what people are capable of misconstruing. Rape fantasy is something many of us fantasize about.  Doesn’t mean we’re “askin’ for it” unless we’re in a consensual non-consent relationship with you. ~n~

It was dusky, not full dark, and the grey tendrils of fog presaged the rapidly dropping temperatures. She’d shivered as she’d walked, her car just down a half a block from the store. Dressed for the warmer temperatures of the afternoon in a light tank top and skirt, she’d been unprepared for the sudden shift in the weather. Goosebumps puckered her skin and her nipples tightened. Picking up her pace, she thought longingly of the warmth of her vehicle, of the heater turned up to high and blowing her chill away.

The hands grabbed her roughly as she walked past the alleyway.

“Waaa??” was all she was able to yelp as a dirty rag was stuffed between her lips.


Shoved roughly against the wall, she tried to push off, but shock and his hand between her shoulder blades didn’t allow her to move much. A hard shove and her nose bumped the rough wall in front of her. A body pressed against her, the heat welcome, though the hands now gripping her tits were not.

“Nice knockers.” He growled softly, before his fingers gripped the bottom of her shirt,  pulling it up and over her face. Her breasts fell forward as he ripped her bra down, breaking the left strap. Roughly he pinched her nipples, twisting them coarsely. She whimpered and cried out but the gag effectively stopped the sounds from travelling far.

He leaned hard against her, her breasts flattened against the stone. It hurt, the rough edges catching on her tender skin. She knew, though she struggled hard, that he was going to rape her.

Her skirt was raised up, ragged nails scratching against her thighs. She pushed away, struggled for space to wriggle free before he slammed her back, knocking the breath from her and smashing her boobs against the chilly wall. His hand cuffed her cheek.

“Cut that shit out. I’m gonna fuck you and then I’ll be on my way. Tender piece of ass like you, you want a nice hard cock piercing you. Warm you up, juicing your belly up nice. Fucking whore, you’re gonna get all my meat.”

She shook her head no, but he wasn’t listening. His breathing was loud, harsh against her neck as his hands worked between them. She felt it, the head of his thing, felt it searching for her, seeking entry into her secret place. She squeezed her legs, squeaking out a high pitched ‘stop’ as she writhed against the body pressing upon her.

He wasn’t going to stop. His cock slid along her split until it stuck against her hole. A quick shift of his hips and the first few inches poked into her. Rising to her toes, she tried to dislodge him by squeezing her inner muscles, but he laughed, and pulled her hips down as he rose fully, driving himself into her.

In and out, in and out, she chanted in her head, willing him to finish. Her cunt was burning. Her ears were burning as he spoke disgusting things to her. Calling her a slut, a whore, a wet, greasy cunt. Telling her how hot she was, how slick and needy. His hands pinched her nipples hard, then pulled them. Her breasts were grabbed, squeezed, mauled as he moved in and out, in and out. She could hear the sounds of the sex, the wet squelching sucking of his cock pulling free, and feel the slick wetness as he drove forcefully back into her.

Her cunt ached. Her tits were screaming. A hard push, his hips grinding deep foreshadowed his orgasm. He pulled out, just a bit, then pistoned again, making her body jerk at the depth of each thrust. He came, grunting and biting her neck. He held her there until his cock was flaccid, slipping from her. A hand mashed her head against the wall.

“Fucking stay here until you count to ten.”

For a moment there was nothing. No sound, no pressure of him against her. The sudden rush of cold air made her shiver. Faintly she heard the sound of someone running away and she knew she was alone. Hands shaking, she spat and pulled the gag out of her mouth, then gathered up her panties from around her ankles. Shivering hard, she tugged down her skirt and shirt, adjusting her bra as much as she could. Quickly she scooped up her purse from where it had fallen beside her, and dug for her keys. She took a breath, a second one, and ignoring the wetness leaking from her abused vagina, she ran as fast as she was able to her car.

Later at home, after a long and steaming shower, she masturbated, coming hard as she held her destroyed bra in her free hand.

Repairs ~ A Danger Date Story

inspired by the pic on this post by Jz… found here…thanks for that, Jz! ~nilla~

Damn the rain that made her have to check the undercarriage of her car in the stuffy garage. It would have been much easier to see what was going on under there if she could have parked out in the driveway in the sun. But today, the one day she had free to check the weird whangy noise under her chassis, Mother Nature had to send a deluge.

Propping the chucks behind the wheels, she jacked up the front until she was sure there was enough room for her to wiggle under. Frankly the thought of it made her want to puke, but her purse was light this week, and her ability to Rube Goldberg a fix was legendary. If it bought her an extra month or two before she had to haul off to the garage, that was all to the good.

She opened the side door, the one that led to the house, letting in a wafting of rain-chilled air. Drawing her denim over-shirt around herself, she sighed, and sat on the towel she’d spread. Laying down, she gingerly inserted herself under the car. Ah, and there was the problem, a pipe whose tie-down had failed. That explained the thunking wobble she felt under her feet when driving the under-carriage killing roads to work. Though she dearly loved living in the boondocks and not the city, there were definite drawbacks to it. Still, this would be a relatively simple fix. Feeling around for the duct tape, a Rube Goldbergering necessity, she tore off a generous strip and began to wind it around the pipe, re-attaching it to the metal support beside it.

Caught up in her task, she failed to hear the approach of footsteps. Or perhaps she wouldn’t have heard them anyway with the thundering boom of rain on the garage roof. Her first clue that someone was there was when her ankles were kicked apart.

“Woha! What???”

“Shut up.”

Something pointy poked against her thigh. Holy hell, was she being robbed? In her own garage?!  And in a vulnerable and defenseless position to boot.

“Unzip your pants.”

“I will not!”

The pointy thing pressed harder into her thigh. Was that a glint of silver? A knife? Jeezuz…her heart thumped.

Her hands moved to her fly, unzipping her jeans as she spoke rapidly.

“Look, I…my wallet is in the kitchen and…”

“Shut the fuck up and finish. Hurry up!”

The voice was a rough growl. Goosebumps rose along her arms as she worked her zipper down.

“And the button, cunt. Do I have to tell you every thing?”

“You didn’t say the button. And you’ve got a knife. On my thigh. I’m not taking any chances of second guessing you. Be specific if you want something.”

Why the hell could she not keep that note of censure from her voice. He could freaking kill her and over her snippy attitude. Her mouth kept doing that to her, all the time.

His hands gathered fabric on the side of her jeans, then tugged down, until it cleared her buttocks, her thighs, her calves. The bright chill of the air hit her exposed skin as he tugged off one sneaker, then the other, before removing her pants completely. Maybe she should try to shimmy out from under the car…

He pressed the knife against her pussy.

“Don’t fucking move.”

He teased the tip of the knife under the elastic band encircling her leg. No, she wasn’t going to move a hairs breadth. The fabric parted as he turned the blade; her pussy now felt the caress of the damp New England air. Containing the shiver was impossible.

“Look, you don’t have to do this….”

The blade pressed against the plump flesh. Swallowing the rest of her words she took shallow breaths. The knife moved upwards, slicing away the rest of her panties.

“Stretch your arms out over your head.”

“It’s kind of tight in here…not a lot of space to be wiggling in..”

The knife pressed against her again, the warning clear.

“OKAY, okay, I’m doing it…just…please…”

Somehow she got her arms stretched out over her head. Something…someone…grabbed her wrists, tugging them. The cool kiss of metal and a series of clicks were followed by a sense of weight. Her hands were dropped to the ground, the sound of a chain clinking echoing under the car.

“Hey!” she yelped, as she heard the unmistakable sound of the jack being turned. The car lowered until it was mere inches from her. The thought of being crushed under a thousand pounds of automobile frightened enough to make her lash out, feet kicking, arms trying to move. Whatever he’d done to the chain had kept her mostly immobile, and she only managed to bang her heel on the concrete floor.

Cold liquid splashed against her crotch. She felt the cool slide of it leaking down her pussy lips, slipping into her crack, the tickly sensation of drops as they fell onto the pavement under her. There were other sounds, the softest of voices. There were two of them. The sensation of something pressing against her anus got her immediate attention. Whatever it was, it was huge. Eyes squeezed tightly, she thrashed her legs, only to have them caught and held. Slaps on her thigh made her cry out. Nothing stopped the persistent push of something enormous seeking entry into her tiny rectum. When the head popped through, she screamed. There was movement between her legs, sounds she could not identify, but her whole attention was on the intruder in her ass, and the painful stretching ache there.

“It’s very big, this dildo. It is braced most perfectly. Listen to me girl. We are leaving now. You can get out of this predicament easily. Shimmy down from under the car. Fill your ass with this rubber cock. Your arms will move with effort, the chain is very heavy, but you are strong enough to move it. The key to the cuffs is on the workbench.”

He slapped her thigh again, but spoke no more.  Their feet made soft sounds as they walked away, the door closing behind them. She waited a moment, another, gathering her breath as she made that first painful shimmy out from under the car. Her arms already ached from tugging the heavy chain a mere inch or two. Her bottom protested the further insertion of something where nothing that big belonged. Biting her lip, she wiggled herself free, yet not without consequence, as she moved one slow, ass-filling inch at a time.

It wasn’t until much later, as she limped out of the garage holding a dildo that could double for a Louisville Slugger that she saw the blue paper he had taped against the door. It bore the logo “Danger Date”.


The roar of her vacuum was surpassed by the song pouring into her earbuds. Singing along to her favorite oldies, she swayed and hip-bumped her way around the classroom. Friday night, and the kids must have had some extra fun today, as there was glitter everywhere. It felt like she’d never get all the sparkles out of the carpet; she knew her boss didn’t expect perfection, but she did. At long last the bulk of the rug was clean if not totally sparkle-free. Unplugging the machine, she wound the cord, still singing to the music pulsing in her ears. The long corridor leading back to the maintenance closet was semi-dark. She had turned off every other light on her way in; she didn’t mind working in the half-light. She did popped the lights on to see while she worked in an area, then popped them off again when done. The principal like that she was saving energy.

Next on her agenda was washing the floors. Three bathrooms and a classroom needed a good scrub, then she would be done for the night.

She didn’t need the light on in here,  in what she privately thought of as her ‘office’.  She knew exactly where every one of her tools went. Stepping into the room, she shut the door. Right next to the wall studs, she slotted the machine into its proper place, then turned to head to the closet across the hall, where her wash bucket was.

The arms came around her before she could open the door, one hand covering her mouth. Fingers tugged a bud out of her ear.

“Sssshhh. It’ll be fast. Hard, deep, rough…but fast.” The voice was guttural, rough.

In one ear blasted the tune where someone was rocking the night away, in the other, the sibilant whisper that sent whimpers through her nose.

“Open your mouth.”

She shook her head, but he held her nose until she gasped for breath. Something was stuffed into her mouth, wedged deep so she couldn’t spit it out.

“My undies make a nice gag. I had beans for lunch so I farted in them a lot, and there might be a skid or two there, but you know how it is. Gags are expensive and undies…are handy. Especially since I won’t need to wear them while I’m fucking you.”

Shaking her head didn’t dislodge them. She felt bile rising, and by sheer dint of will, pushed it down.

“This will hold you.”

She heard a funny sound, a thunk, and realized that he’d slid her extra long vacuum cord off its hook. In the moment or two it had taken to figure it out, she shook herself. ‘Run, you moron!’ she shouted to herself in her head. A step, two, to the door. Fumbling for the door, the handle slid out of her fingers, then pulled open. A step into the corridor and moments from the stairs, his arms came around her again, tugging her back into her closet.

“Naughty girl.”

The cord was wound around her hands, half-way to her elbows, then looped over a nail behind the door, where her broom usually hung.  His hands worked quickly at her jeans. The cool breeze of the room on her ass was shocking. She was hot, burning with fear-fever. The first swat of something on her thigh made her knees give out, but the cord held her.

“Bad girls get a beating.”

It was unclear what he was hitting her with but it hurt like hell. In her minds eye, she pictured her closet. It had to be the thin dowel she used on the high windows for catching cobwebs. Her thighs bore the brunt of the blows. She would have screamed, may have screamed as he beat his way up and down the back of each leg. The last few blows fell where her ass and legs met, an especially tender spot. For a moment, there was nothing. She breathed hard through her nose, trying to slow her erratically pounding heart. Hurt. Hurt so fucking much. Maybe he would go now, though a quiet corner of her mind wondered why he’d only hit her legs.

He stepped close, she felt the heat of him behind her. As if he could read her mind, he spoke.

“I’m saving your ass for something special.”

She felt his dick probing her. His hands on her hips, tugging her back, impaling her on his shaft. It was rough, his entry into her cunt, yet she felt her moisture slicking his strokes. Her clit trembled.

Hands snaked up from her hips, up under the plain white tee she favored for work. Her bra was tugged up, her breasts falling free. Fingers grabbed, pawing at the bouncing flesh, pinching her tender nipples.

She came hard, her cunt clamping down on his probing cock.

His hips moved fast, piston-quick, boring into her deepest belly with quick, hard thrusts. His fingers coiled tight on her tits as he paused, hip-thrusted deep, as deep as he could fill her, as he exploded.

Shockwaves echoed through her as he pulled out, the sound wet and sucking.

He moved to the side, one arm looping around her waist. Fingers probed at her pussy, scooping wetness and pushing it into her ass. Her mumbled words were incoherent, but obviously was not a beg for more of the dark caress. Yet his fingers continued to work around her puckered butthole.

Something cold and hard pressed steadily into her bottom. It grew wider, wider, stretching her ass and making her squeal behind the gag. He pushed until she felt something tickling her ass cheeks.

“You look like a little bunny, with your dust wiper shove up your shithole. You keep that in there now.”

His laugh was dark, mean. As if she could shit out the long length of the handle. A handle that fit nicely in her hand, but was far less than comfortable in her ass. He tugged something over her head. One of her heavy-duty black trash bags. She panicked, but he didn’t tighten it, just left it there.

“That bag won’t impede your breathing if you don’t struggle too much. Now I’m going to spank you.”

He stepped away.  She heard the snap of the light switch, saw her jeans gathered around her feet, saw the floor, but that was all. No one would see him. There were no windows in here, no one left at school to notice that she hadn’t washed the floors. She’d told her family to expect her late tonight as Fridays always took extra cleaning time.

The bag muffled sounds, distorted them with the crinkle of plastic. The one earbud blared out a rock anthem from the 70’s. The first swat of a belt on her bare bottom came as a shock. Her body jolted. It was apparent that he was holding nothing back.



Fire. Her ass was on fire. Her asshole throbbed. She’d cum several times, her juices leaking down her thighs. There was no sense of how long he had beat her ass.  She was dizzy from an inadequate air supply, from cumming so hard. He’d turned her once, pressing against the plastic and kissing her through it, making each breath she attempted to draw an agony of fear.

And he’d fucked her again. Hard, with the dusting wand  still buried deeply in her ass.  She’d cum then, too.

“Fucking whore,” he’d said.

“Needy greedy sluthole” he called her.

He’d uncoiled the cord from her hands, wrapped it around her throat, holding her breath hostage.

Her heart pounded in her ear, the one not listening to ‘oh what a night it was’.  Beyond, was that the slam of the outer door? She grabbed for the cord, pulling and tugging it from around her, tearing at the bag to get it off her head before she blacked out. OUT came the horrid underwear he’d gagged her with.

Carefully, she pulled the duster from her backside, and threw that in the trash. The handle was flecked with shit, the fluffy side was wet with cum. She’d never look at one again without remembering this.

She ran to her closet, filled her mouth with water, rinsing, rinsing, clearing the taste of his poo, the salty tang of his pee-speckled underwear from her tongue. Saw her mop bucket ready. Resigned, she filled it with hot soapy water.  Still shaking, she mopped the floors. Responsibility was too ingrained to just leave them undone. People counted on her to make sure the building was clean and sparkling for classes on Monday. The throbbing in her bottom moved in time to the scrub-scrub-scrub of her mop.


Her kids kissed her and hugged her goodnight as her husband shepherded them into bed. She was bone weary, on the verge of tears. She wanted a shower. Stripping off her clothing as she closed the door to their bedroom, she moved into their bathroom and flicked on the water. Hot. She needed the heat to quell the shivers that seemed to come from her pussy, making her tremble. Dumping her soiled jeans, her tee-shirt, her underwear into the hamper, she stepped quickly into the hot stream. It poured over her, through her hair, over her face, down her aching tits, over her welted bottom.

“I’m coming in!”

Before she could stop him, her husband stepped in behind her.


She turned, blinking water, and perhaps some secret tears,  away.

“I thought you might need a new one. But for now, I can use it to scrub your back. Or your front. Or….fuck you with it….”

He held up the twin to her school duster, waving it back and forth in front of her face, before turning it shaft up and making a “shoving it up” gesture. Her eyes widened, her mouth opened in a O before “bastard!” spurted from her lips.

He laughed as she tried to punch him.



She woke, cold.


Unable to move. Unable to speak. Unable to see.

“There you are, sweet slut. I can tell by your struggles that you’re finally awake. I didn’t think you would react to the drug so strongly.”

Drug? He’d drugged her.

Fog clouded her brain.

Who was he?

Where was she?

A finger stroked down her cheek, the nail scratching a thin line.  She felt something on her chest, a breath of air. The sound of feet on the floor. Moving away, then closer.

Arching, muffled noises of protest against the wadded gag in her mouth.

Cold mist of water sprayed on her body.

The click and whirr of a camera.

“Gorgeous. Your nipples are so tight. The water beading your flesh, the rising of goosebumps.”

He muttered almost under his breath.

Another squirt, trying to twist away, tensing as the icy cold water cascaded over her.

Footsteps moving away, then the sound of scrabbling of something. Familiar. But…what?

Footsteps moving closer, another scream as his hand pressed against her lower lips, pressing something freezing against her warm core.

Pressing it into her cunt.

Head shaking, wrists tugged, protesting.

Legs unable to bend, tied to something hard and straight, keeping her open.

Feeling of fucking, fucking, the shocking cold thing moving in and out of her making her shiver violently.

Pushed home, inside of her, whimpers, moans, tears under the mask.

So cold.

So fucking cold.





Spray of cold attacking her flesh like needles, each drop a piercing painful bite of cold.



“Gorgeous, yes, arch, just like that…oh baby, so fucking gorgeous. Yes, it hurts, it’s cold and you hate that I know. You told me you hated cold and I saw this picture in my head at that moment. Such a beautiful moment…”



“Good girl, get your reward,”

The click and hummm of a vibe, the weight of it, pushed against her throbbing clit.

Arching, cumming, exploding, pushing the ice dildo out of her with her paroxysms, melting the ice inside her with her hot juices, feeling the release in every cold-tormented fold.

Click, click…the sound of an air conditioner, its chill breath spewing into the room, freezing her tears as he picks up the bottle and sprays her again.

“The making of the Ice Maiden, that’s what we shall call it,” he murmurs, as he pumps the water over her.

She shivers violently, crying harder.