On the outside I’ve never been weird in any way. I’m popular, with girls and guys. I have normal interests. I go to parties, get drunk, have fun, have normal relationships. I could have sex, normal sex, and enjoy it a normal amount.
But it is only when I think about rape that I really start to feel that heat like nothing else. A hollow aching inside me, yearning to be filled.
My breathing shallows; my nipples harden; my clit begins to throb. It’s the loss of power, the adrenaline rush born of pure fear. It’s the raw excitement of it. I’ve tried rationalising it to myself a thousand times, but I rarely make progress.
I never admitted it to anyone else. It was something for me, on my own. To be kept in the deepest recesses of my mind. To be brought out only when I’m alone, late at night, one hand on my computer keyboard and the other slipped down into my underwear, or teasing my nipple.
It was only when I started college that I began to look for something more real.
I loved the idea of student life, even of studying, but the main thing that drew me towards college life was the rape. Everywhere I went, statistics flashed at me. 1 in 4 students who attended college were raped, read the pamphlets. Signs coloured red for danger became red for passion and lust. I was attracted to college because to me, it symbolised everything I had ever fantasised about.
I settled on a Social Anthropology course, and off I went. Independent, alone, vulnerable. And yet I seemed destined to be disappointed. I met lovely people, I was treated nicely, but I remained firmly unsatisfied.
I was regularly attending big parties, all over the campus and in the town nearby. Sex and drugs were everywhere. I went to one particular party in this massive unoccupied house. I went to the toilet where I saw a girl, passed out in the bath, with her skirt hanging just high enough to show her panties. She looked so revealing that I was tempted to rape her myself.
On the way back, I passed a small room, with only a chest of drawers in it. Sitting on the floor by the chest of drawers was a guy, clutching a bottle. I had no idea why he was in there, what he was doing, but somehow I felt I had struck lucky.
I stumbled into the room, pretending to be overly drunk and to not notice him. I slumped forwards onto the floor, making sure my skirt was pulled up to show the bottom half of my bum, and waited.
“Hello?” His voice was a little croaky. He repeated himself, before shaking me lightly. “Are you okay?”
Great, I thought, he’s too nice to rape me. I was just about to get up when his hand drifted down from my shoulder, ever so slowly, and onto my bum.
My pulse quickened. He lightly squeezed my bum, paused, and squeezed it again. I didn’t know what his other hand was doing until I heard the sound of his zipper opening. As he pulled out his dick, his hand slid down from my bum, under my panties and began stroking my pussy.
It was all I could do not to moan out-loud. The intensity of emotion running through me charged up my sensitivity, and each touch sent a spark running through my body. His stroking became deeper and deeper, harder and harder, building me up. I felt him swing his leg over, so he was sitting on my thighs, just below my bum. I felt him pull my panties aside, and prepare to stick his dick into me.
I wasn’t completely satisfied though. I wanted rape. Proper rape. I wanted a struggle, I wanted force. I didn’t want to be limp on the floor, pretending not to notice. I wanted the fire that I’d always fantasised about.
I pretended to slowly gain consciousness. “Wha… What’s happening?” I asked, groggily. But my plan backfired. The guy gave a squeal of fear, jumped up and ran out of the room before he even put his dick back in his flies.
I lay there, disappointed. Half of me regretted having done it – I could so easily find another room and do the same to another guy, expect this time I’d stay unconscious. But another part of me protested. This wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to do it properly. I wanted to fulfill my darkest fantasy in exactly the way I’d imagined. I had to try something else. I picked myself up off the floor, and returned to the party, my mind buzzing with my next plan.
There was little else on my mind for the whole party. I later learned that it had gone on until 6:00 am, but I didn’t stay that long. Aroused, and wanting to relieve myself, I made an excuse and left for my dorm. It was a thirty minute walk, but I paid little attention to where I was going.
I eventually snapped out of a daze and looked around me. I had taken a wrong turning around 20 metres back, in a fork in the road. Instead of heading down to the campus, I had turned into the parking lot of what appeared to be a small industrial estate. I spun round to go back, but because of a mixture of alcohol and my mind not quite being focussed, I stumbled sideways out into the parking lot, falling onto the bonnet of a car. I burst into a fit of giggles.
The voice came from the side of the warehouse that the parking lot backed onto. A man was sitting behind some cars, leaning against the corrugated iron door and watching me. I giggled again and turned to him. “I’m fine, thank you.”
My giggling stopped when I saw how he was looking at me. I’ve been around enough to know when a guy’s even slyly checking me out, and this guy wasn’t being sly. His eyes were on my legs, more notably the top where my legs met my skirt. He had a very intense stare – the feeling of it on me brought goosebumps all up my arms. His eyes were dark, almost black, as was his messy hair. This is my chance, I thought.
I cleared my throat quietly. “Well I’m a little lost.”
“Oh?” was all the response I got. His eyes still watched my legs.
I tried again, my words coming out ever so slightly slurred. “My friends don’t know where I am and I’d like to get back to them as soon as I can.” The ball in my throat was both excitement and fear.
This seemed to snap his gaze away. He smiled. “You’re from the college just outside town?” I nodded, and he continued. “Well come in here, there’s a phone you can use to book a cab. I’ll pay, no worries.” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled himself up and walked through the door, into the warehouse.
I walked slowly after him. I was having second thoughts. I was more excited every second, but also more scared. My entire body was screaming at me to bolt and run, but my legs wouldn’t stop. I pulled the door open, wincing as metal scraped against the concrete floor, and walked in.
It was practically empty, a massive open space. The man was sitting across the far side, on one of the railings, watching me. He smiled, a smile that managed to be warm and cold at the same time. “Hey, come over here! I’ve got them on the phone for you.” He waved a mobile phone at me. I crossed the warehouse to him, and timidly held out my hand for the phone. He held his hand out too, but before I could grab the phone he dropped it. I tried to catch it, but it bounced off my hand and smashed onto the floor. Glass from the broken screen scattered across the floor.
“You broke it! Now how will I call a cab for you?” He was playing with me, I could see. I began to truly feel scared. I glanced back at the door, thinking of abandoning it and running. But before I turned back, I felt his hand on my mouth.
He had moved lightning fast, and he was much stronger than he looked. He pulled me into him, burying my scream in his palm. Panic took over, and I struggled for all I was worth, trying to shake him off. He wrapped an arm around my stomach, trapping my arms to my side, before taking his hand off my mouth. I screamed, but it was soon cut off as he pulled my top by the back of the neck. I couldn’t breath as the front of the neck hole pulled into my throat, but after a few seconds the fabric gave way and my top was ripped off.
He loosened his grip on me for a second while he let the rag of my top fall to the floor, but before I could react he clamped down on me again. I didn’t notice the cold air on me, only that I was topless, that I was dirty, that I was his. His fingers snapped the back of my bra strap and it fell off, my breasts falling out. His hand grabbed them, roughly squeezing them. A sharp pain drove through me and I began to cry. This was horrible – so why was I so wet?
He made the same discovery moments later. He stuffed his hand under my skirt, pulled my panties aside and stuck his finger in me. He was clearly expecting resistance, and I felt his shock and then delight as his finger slipped easily into my wet pussy. I gave a half moan, half sob. He slipped in a second finger, and then a third, and my sobs of fear and pleasure became louder. He took his fingers out of me, ripping my panties off as he did.
For the second time that night I heard the undoing of a zipper. He didn’t bother pulling his trousers down, just peeled aside his flies and pulled out his dick. He hauled me up into the air and planted me down on his dick, still firmly grasping me around the stomach. His dick wasn’t especially long but was thick than anything I’d ever felt, so he filled me up. I screamed, but at this point it was more pleasure than fear. He held me down on his dick, but the angle was clearly too awkward for him to start pumping.
He lifted me up off his dick and threw me to the ground. I slammed down hard, scraping my left hand on a shard of glass and tearing my skirt so that it fell to the ground and left me naked. Before I could move he was on me. He flipped me over onto my back, scratching my now bare bum on small pieces of glass. Forcing my legs open, he rammed his dick into me.
As soon as he was fully in, he grabbed my arms, pinned them down and started pumping into me. His face was an inch away from mine, his eyes staring intently into mine. His chest pressed against my bare tits, squashing my nipples. My entire body filled with ecstasy as his dick slammed into me, stimulating every corner of my pussy. My G-spot flamed up, and with each fuck I gave a scream that he probably took to be fear, but was now purely out of pleasure and lust. He fucked hard, grunting with each thrust. An orgasm was building up, but I was already getting more pleasure than any actual orgasm had ever given me.
After a while he realised that I was no longer struggling. He let go of my arms, lifted up my ass, sat back and fucked me freely. My tits bounced against my chest with every deep pump into my pussy. Coloured spots appeared in front of my vision as I lost myself to the fruition of my deepest fantasy. It felt like fire, like electricity. It felt like my pussy was made to be used just like this.
I lost track of time, but eventually I felt myself about to be pushed over the edge – and, from his expression, so was he. I clenched my pussy as hard as I could and drove myself onto his dick. Ecstasy, pure pleasure as I’d never felt before, exploded within me. I gave one long scream of lust as his dick exploded with it, pumping stream after stream of cum deep inside me. Both our bodies quivered violently with the orgasm, riding the wave for what seemed like minutes. I slumped backwards, panting heavily, and so did he.
I didn’t realise he had gone until I heard the creak of the metal door to the warehouse. I scrambled over onto all fours, looking at him. He stared back at me from the doorway. “Come back next time. I’ll be here.”