Sexy Ana Fucking A Purple Toy

Sexy Ana Fucking A Purple Toy
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The twenty-eight year old woman—a stunning blonde that made men run into lamp posts when passing her on the street—had come to a strange city to be a bridesmaid at her good friend's wedding the following day. She was returning from a bachelorette party, where she had had a little too much to drink, and was therefore not as attentive to her surroundings as she should have been when pausing at her hotel room door and fumbling in her purse for the magnetic room key card.

She was therefore not aware of the man standing behind her as she finally opened the door, nor was she aware of the fact that he followed her into the room before the door closed behind her. She was aware of nothing until the man suddenly and with great strength locked her from behind in a full nelson, her purse still on her shoulder, and hustled her to the king size bed in the middle of the room where he forced her face down onto the mattress, his weight heavy upon her.

Before she could summon the wherewithal to scream—before she could even fully comprehend what was happening—a thick rag was stuffed into her gaping mouth, quickly followed by a cloth cinch that secured the rag when tied tightly around her head.

When comprehension at last came flooding over her, a scream that emanated in her throat died a muffled death in the gag. Comprehension was further reinforced as the young woman next felt the cold, hard steel of handcuffs around her wrist and then heard the disheartening click that the cuff made when snapped tightly shut, pinching her skin in the process. This washed away her semi-inebriated state in a flood of terror. Feeling her purse being pulled from her shoulder, and then her arm drawn roughly behind her back, the young blonde screamed again into her gag and mounted her first struggle of resistance, kicking her feet in wild desperation as the man sat upon her buttocks.

She managed to pull her other arm away from the man's grasp when she felt him reaching for it. Her attacker, however, quickly tracked down this arm and forcibly yanked it behind her back to join her other one, causing the young blonde to shriek in pain. The cry was muffled to such an extent, though, that there was no way anyone in an adjoining room could have heard her. There was quickly a second click of the handcuffs and the young woman's wrists were firmly secured together behind her back.

Her body twisted and jerked beneath her attacker's weight in futile protest. The young woman then felt the man's considerable weight lift off her. She was able to roll away from him and onto her side. With her heart pounding and her eyes wide with fear, she sucked in air through flared nostrils above the gag in her mouth. She tried desperately to bring her arms around, but cried in pain as the handcuffs bit into the flesh of her wrists.

The man then left the bed and began walking back to the door of the hotel room. The young woman rolled off the far side of the bed and landed on her feet after almost falling to the floor—one of her medium heeled shoes had come off in the brief scuffle and now, with one shoe on and one off, her balance was compromised. She watched, wide eyed, as the man, now at the door, turned the deadbolt and set the chain lock in place.

A sickness enveloped her when she saw the man turn around at the door and face her, a non-humorous smile contorting his lips. Again she yanked at the handcuffs. Again there was sharp pain in her wrists. She screamed, but anyone in the adjoining rooms would have had to have their ears pressed to the wall to hear the muffled cry, and at this late hour that was highly improbable.

The young blonde backed slowly away as the intruder began walking calmly toward her. She recognized him. He had gotten into the elevator with her just minutes ago—in fact, she had held the elevator door open for him as it was about to close. He had smiled politely and tipped his baseball cap at her as the elevator doors shut. She had smiled back at him, thinking it odd that someone was wearing sunglasses at that hour of the night, but then turned her full attention back to the messages on her smart phone as the elevator ascended.

She had not been aware that he had gotten off on the same floor as she. Or that he had followed her&hellip. Their eyes locked now. The man was no longer wearing sunglasses, and his eyes fairly shown with lust as he regarded the young woman backing away from him, her own eyes fearful and as wide as saucers.

With her chest heaving from panicked breathing, she tried to talk to him, but her words were hopelessly suppressed by the thick rag in her mouth.

Soon, she bumped into the curtains of the hotel room's window, and could back up no further. The man, however, continued stepping carefully toward her. Again she let fly with a flurry of words that were rendered completely unintelligible by her gag.

The man paused at arm's length from the young woman. She was wearing a delicate, tight fitting white blouse with buttons in the front, the type of blouse which, with the help of a very expensive bra beneath, uplifted and showcased her breasts in a way that weakens a man's legs. That was especially the case here, where the top two buttons were undone, providing more than a little hint of tantalizing cleavage. It was a bare midriff blouse that also showed off a slender waist and the beginning swell of hips above a pair of low riding, tight fitting, coral colored denim slacks.

She stood awkwardly on one medium heeled shoe and one bare foot. They watched each other intently for a long moment, the young woman breathing heavily and with difficulty given the rag in her mouth, and the man, it seemed, hardly breathing at all.

As they stared at each other, it was as if each was waiting to see what the other did. It was the man who acted first. He turned and walked away from her.

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There was a moment of disbelief, and then a sigh of relief that caused the young woman's tense body to sag. Of course, this was just a mistake! Some sort of a game this man was playing, but he had the wrong room! He was leaving now. Of course, that was it! Oh, my god yes! This was just a terrible case of mistaken identity! But why isn't he taking my handcuffs off?

The young blonde continued watching the man's movements with the wariness of a cornered animal, and her sense of relief faltered when she saw him stoop to pick up from the floor a medium sized black bag that he had apparently brought with him.

She watched in confusion as he pulled some articles out of the bag. She couldn't tell at first what they were. There was not a great deal of light in the room. She was still in doubt as she watched the man hold up a metal device with three short tubes coming from its core and saw him begin to pull on the tubes, extending them outward four or five feet.

But she didn't recognize what the contraption was until she next saw the man pull a video camera from the bag and attach it to the device. A tripod! And when set on the floor, it positioned the camera a good six feet in the air. The young woman watched in mounting confusion as she saw the man point the camera to the bed. It was only after she saw the camera's red recording light come on, and then saw the man look back to her and give her his non-humorous smile, that she realized that her attacker was not only not leaving, but he was going to record whatever…whatever was going to happen!

The realization of this caused her legs to nearly buckle. A warm flow of urine slowly soaked the crotch of her coral colored jeans. The man now walked back to where the young woman cowered by the window of the hotel room. This time he moved quickly, decisively. As he grasped her by the biceps of her right arm, she cried into her gag and twisted her body away from him.

He shoved her against the drapes and gave her face quick, hard slaps, first across one cheek, then the other. The blows made her head snap. Stunned, she sagged against the curtains.

Her assailant then doubled her over his shoulder and carried her kicking and squirming to the bed where in dumped her roughly onto the mattress, in full view of the dull red light of the video camera.

The young woman rolled onto her back—her forearms beneath her—and lifted her legs, cocking them into a martial arts pose, ready to kick out at the intruder. Her head shook hurriedly back and forth. The strap of the gag around her head kept most of her long, blonde hair in place, but several strands of it tossed wildly in the air. Incoherent words continued to jam into her gag.

The man watched her carefully, an expression of amusement on his face. Then, he moved closer still and paced a knee on the edge of the bed. The young woman kicked at him as viciously as she could. The blow with her heel struck him in the thigh, but did not faze him. To the contrary, his hand moved quickly and caught her ankle before she could pull back.

She attempted to kick him with her other leg but missed wide, and in that instant her attacker was between her legs. Squirming madly on the bed, the young woman continued to thrash her legs, but her target was too close, and the considerable energy that she was expending was entirely in vain.

Her cries continued to die in her gag, heard by her assailant and nobody else. The man moved atop the young woman's legs and sat on her thighs, his knees on either side of her as she thrashed and twisted beneath him. It was when her assailant reached for his bag that he had left on the bed and withdrew a black handled knife with a six inch blade that the young woman froze.

Her saucer-sized eyes widened yet further as she saw the lethal weapon. It's sleek, steel blade fairly glistened before her, despite the fact that the hotel room was only dimly lit by lamp light, and she began to sob hysterically. The sounds she made, however, muffled as they were by the rag stuffed in her mouth, could not have been heard by anyone even had they happened to have been passing by in the hallway at that late hour.

Another stream of warm urine besotted the crotch of her tight fitting pants, very close to where the man sat atop her. The young blonde's terrified, wide eyes followed the movements of the dreadful knife wielded by the man sitting on her legs, his knees on either side of bare midriff.

She tried mightily to extract her bound arms from beneath her back to protect herself, but it was useless: unhindered, the point of the knife carefully circled around her tummy and poked at her navel.

The lethally sharp point pricked her skin with each upward swell of her panicked breathing. Crying, she pulled her tear-filled eyes away from the knife and looked upward into the eyes of her assailant. Unable to speak, she could only shake her head back and forth in a silent plea for him not to use the knife on her.

As she did so, strands of her long, blonde hair came loose from the cloth cinch around her head that kept her gag in place. It was the man who broke the eye contact. He needed to see what he was doing when he nosed the blade of his knife under the bottom of the young woman's blouse.

The knife paused there, and there was silence in the room for a moment as the young woman's sobbing momentarily ceased—it was as if she were too afraid to cry.

It became so quiet, in fact, that they both heard the popping sound made as the knife gently severed the bottom button of the woman's blouse. She gasped audibly into her gag at this, and her wild eyes grew ever larger.

Then, in a movement so sudden and violent that it shocked the young woman to her soul, the knife swung upward, ripping apart the remaining buttons of her blouse, sending them flying, and laying open the flimsy garment as if it were tissue paper. A delicate, white bra beneath was exposed. Yet another squirt of urine added to the wetness of the young woman's pants. Her eyes pleaded for mercy as she shook her head and mumbled into the rag stuffed in her mouth.

What she saw in the eyes of her attacker, however, made her gulp in despair. They were the eyes of a starving tiger, and the way in which he was looking at her made her feel like a prey lying wounded and helpless before him.

Her attacker was, in fact, literally licking his chops, not quite able to believe his good fortune with regard to the quality of the prey he had just bagged.

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This young woman was Sports Illustrated swimsuit material. Her skimpy white bra could have been a bikini top, although not too many SI swimsuit models had gags stuck in their mouths and terrorized expressions on their beautiful faces.

As the young lady lay trembling in fear on her back, her chest rising and falling with frantic breathing, her attacker carefully inched his knife between her skin and the thin strap connecting the two cups of her bra.

She stared bug eyed at the lethal blade for a moment as it paused, its steel finish gleaming between her breasts. She then looked quickly back up at the face of her assailant. He was smiling at her, but it was the most fearsome smile she had ever seen.

Her chest continued to rise and fall in terror, her frightened breathing now quite audible in the otherwise quiet of the room. As the eyes of prey and predator locked, time seemed to have stopped for the prey. Until, in a heartbeat, the knife flashed again, this time slashing through the thin center strap of her flimsy bra, splitting it apart. The woman squealed in fear as her firm, full breasts spilled forth, twin buoys with nipples on top, bobbing on a chest heaving with the tortured breathing of a captured prey.

The beautiful young woman was finding her entire situation beyond belief. Only an hour ago she had been having a ton of fun at a bachelorette party with a dozen other young ladies, laughing with them in the after-hours bar as they recalled the male stripper who had performed for them earlier in the evening. Now, here she was being stripped herself by an evil attacker who was staring avidly at the breasts that he had just bared.

Her assailant now laid the knife between those breasts and scooted his body down to where he now sat on her knees. With patient fingers, he began to fumble with the top button of her urine soaked denim jeans. Thoroughly comprehending by now the full extent of her attacker's intentions, the young woman found renewed courage.

She was not going to be raped so easily. Pulling one leg up sharply, she was able to extricate it beneath her attacker's weight and quickly kick him in the chest as violently as she could. In doing so, the knife slide from her chest and fell to the mattress beside her. In answer to her renewed struggle, the man again slapped both sides of her face, more viciously this time, stunning her, stopping her crying in mid sob.

He grasped her firmly by the chin and regarded her for a long moment, then slapped her hard two more times until her body went lifeless beneath him and her head fell to the side. Her cheeks were a bright, crimson red, and blood trickled from both nostrils and pooled at both corners of her mouth, turning the white gag in her mouth a dull pink.

Her attacker retrieved his knife. With his left hand he squeezed one of her breasts, making the nipple rise upward. His right hand brought the knife blade to where it touched the nipple. For the first time, he spoke. "You fight me, sweetie, and I'll carve my initials in your tits! Do you fucking understand me?" The young blonde starred upward at her attacker in absolute fear. She gave no sign of compliance to his threat, or even an acknowledgement that she understood it.

The slaps had definitely stunned her. Whether she understood or not, she offered no resistance when her attacker proceeded in undoing the top button of her jeans and lowering the zipper.

He paused to remove the one, medium heeled shoe that had remained on her foot, and then began tugging the jeans downward. The body-hugging fit of the pants made them difficult to pull off her curvaceous ass and hips, but the man, swearing softly under his breathe, eventually managed.

Their tightness caused her urine soaked panties to pull part way down as the pants came down her long, sleek legs and off her feet. The final tug of the jeans had been with an upward motion which had lifted the young woman's feet slightly into the air.

When the jeans at last came fully off, her feet plopped back lifelessly back to the mattress, her legs parted slightly. Her panties had pulled down enough that blonde pubic hair would have shown had the young woman not so closely shaved there.

Her pants were then tossed to the other side of the room, and her attacker turned to drink in the sight of the young woman's body, now nude save for the tattered blouse and bra that draped her shoulders and the tiny, urine soaked thong panties that lay askew across her pubic region. He studied her intently as she writhed ever so slightly on the bed, arms pinned beneath her back, head rolling lazily from side to side on the mattress as she moaned softly into the rag that he had stuffed into her mouth.

His eyes lingered on her naked breasts, and the nipples that sat atop them. He considered her breasts to be perfect. They were firm enough to nicely defy gravity as she laid on her back, and they were natural.

No silicone for this blonde. The man's eyes then traveled to the woman's narrow waist, which gave obvious evidence of many hours in a gym somewhere. Then there were the tantalizing swells of her hips, around the widest part of which stretched the side straps of her partially pulled down thong panties. The penis inside the man's pants hardened even further as he contemplated the thought of ripping those panties off her.

But first, he continued his visual inventory of her body, his eyes moving down long, silky smooth legs that were tanned and well-toned, probably from hours of tennis every week.

She looked country club rich. He had first noticed the expensive looking wedding ring on her finger when she pressed the button in the elevator, and saw it again closer up as he was handcuffing her. So…he was going to be having some rich bastard's wife! Fantastic! He found the thought of this to be almost as great a turn-on as the spectacular body itself.

He had first spotted this honey at the bachelorette party earlier that evening. She had been the hottest of the seven or eight attractive young women in attendance, and he couldn't take his eyes off her as he watched from a dark corner of the club, sipping his brandy, patiently biding his time.

He was a good looking man, well built, and had always had more than his share of consensual ass. It fact, he had fucked so many women the "conventional" way that he had come to find it rather boring.

For a long time he had harbored the fantasy of raping a strange woman, but had never acted upon it—until this evening. He had always thought that if he did act upon his fantasy, it could be the perfect crime. In his entire life he had never had more than a parking ticket. His record was spotlessly clean. So, if he roughs a woman up a bit, and she cries rape to the cops, it would be a case of "he said/she said", and, hey officer, she told me she liked it rough!

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Hauled before a judge? We had a safe word, your honor, and she never used it. The man ordered another brandy as he watched the bachelorette party and the one young lady in particular and decided that the time had come. If at all possible, he was going to have the cute blonde in the white top and tight fitting, coral colored jeans! He was certainly prepared. A rape kit in a black bag was in the trunk of his car: handcuffs, duct tape, gags, rope, and knife.

And K-Y Jelly. As he took a swig of his second brandy, he popped a Viagra pill. He was a model Boy Scout: always prepared. When the bachelorette party eventually broke up, he followed the women from a distance as they walked out of the club. The one he was interested in stopped to chat with one of the other women on the sidewalk outside. It was a warm night requiring no jackets, and the sight of his target's bare midriff was as intriguing to him as the sight of a mouse is to a house cat.

He could overhear them talking. The other woman was offering his target a ride. Well, maybe his evening would involve the other woman, as well? But then his target was shaking her head, and soon the other woman turned and departed and his target stepped alone into taxi that pulled up.

His car, with the rape kit waiting in the trunk, was parked nearby. As he followed the cab, he was imagining that she required a taxi because she had had too much to drink. He imagined that the taxi was taking her home.

Did she live in a house or an apartment? Who would be at home? A roommate? A husband? A boyfriend? Any of those possibilities could foil his plans. He chose to hope that she lived alone. To his surprise, the taxi, after several miles, pulled into an upscale hotel.

A hotel? Would she be alone? Or was a husband or boyfriend awaiting her? He could hardly control his excitement. Parking hurriedly while the young woman paid the cab, the man opened the trunk of his car and grabbed his bag.

He also donned a baseball cap and sunglasses that were stowed there. No one viewing hotel security camera videos later would be able to get a good description of him. He managed to ride up in the same elevator with her to her floor.

She had even held the elevator open for him when she noticed him hurrying toward it. She smiled at him as he entered the elevator, and he smiled back, tipping the bill of his baseball cap.

But then, the young blonde became absorbed in the text messages on her cell phone as they ascended. She smiled at him again as the doors of the elevator opened and she stepped out. He could tell she was wobbly from her evening of drinking as she ambled down the hallway, completely unaware of his presence behind her as she continued to read her messages. As she fumbled with the key card at the door, he decided there must be no one waiting for her inside, and that all systems were go. He stood behind the woman silently.

To the security camera staring at them from down the hallway, it would appear that they were together. She invited me to her room, your honor. He would not attack her until they were inside the room.

She finally managed to open the door. If he was wrong? If a 250 pound husband was in the room? He was prepared to turn and flee if necessary. Well, fleeing had not been necessary.

And now, the hot young blonde who frequently made men run into lamp posts when passing her on the street, was virtually naked. And she was all his. All of her. She had been so consumed by the pain from his slaps to her face that she was only vaguely aware that he was pulling her pants off her legs, and after they were off, she could barely stir as she lay there on her back, her forearms and hands beneath her numb from her own weight.

As her head began to clear, she opened her eyes slightly, just enough to see her attacker standing by the foot of the bed, watching her. She knew she was going to be raped. Weeping softly, her thoughts raced to her dear husband at home, whom she knew would be totally devastated by the fact of a rapist sexually possessing his sweet, beautiful young wife!

She already knew that her husband could never learn of this. She would have to keep it from him or it would destroy him. This was her fault. She had been so careless! She should have been suspect of the man in the elevator wearing sunglasses at night. She should have looked around her before opening the door to her hotel room.

The ease with which she has become his prey made her roll her head back and forth on the mattress in dismay. It was as infuriating to her as the attack itself. She had taken many self-defense lessons at her club, but had been totally subdued before getting in so much as a single scratch with her nails or a bite of her teeth. As her head slowly cleared, she became panicked by another thought that raced into her mind. Her husband and she had decided a month ago that, after nearly two years of marriage, it was time for her to get pregnant.

Her heart pounding, she realized the danger she now faced, given that six weeks previously she had stopped taking birth control pills. Since then, she and her husband had been trying hard to make it happen, having sex nearly every night, including each of the six nights prior to this trip.

In fact, tonight would have been the seventh night in a row had her husband come with her, as they had originally planned, but last minute business kept this from happening.

She had thought about that with regret in the taxi coming back to the hotel from the bachelorette party, because she was feeling particularly horny in the back of the taxi. Little did she know that the car behind the taxi, whose lights lit up the interior of her cab, belonged to a man who was stalking her. She now saw that man through half opened eyes as he continued to stand by the bed looking down at her. She shut her eyes and gulped into her blood and saliva soaked gag, hoping with all her might that she had already conceived from her husband so that she would not be impregnated by a rapist!

She was encouraged by the fact that she was already several days late with her period. But…if in a month she discovered she was pregnant, how could she be sure who the father was? The thought of this caused her to choke into her gag. In fact, she was having great difficulty breathing. There was so much snot and blood in her nose—from crying and from the slaps to her face—that with her mouth gagged she could hardly get enough air.

She opened her eyes. She needed to plead for her attacker to let her breath! But what she saw brought renewed terror. The man was again holding the knife. He was still standing by the bed, but was leaning over her now. She shook her head vigorously as he brought the knife blade to her thighs. She jerked her leg in the wrong direction and pricked herself against the blade's terrible sharp point. The pain from this caused her to squeal sharply into her gag.

The man used a finger to whisk away the spot of blood that came to the surface of her thigh, and then licked the finger clean as the young woman stared upward at him in distress, her bare chest heaving with strained breathing. Her fear of impregnation had suddenly taken a back seat to her fear of death—either by choking on her gag or by wounds from that dreadful knife.

The man smiled at her and nosed his knife beneath the side strap of her urine soaked thong panties. The blade slowly lifted the strap where it circled the curve of her hip. Though her body trembled, the young woman tried mightily not to make any more sudden moves lest she cut herself once again. For a long moment, the only sound in the otherwise quiet hotel room was the gentle sobbing of a woman knowing that she was going to be raped, and possibly worse.

With the sharp edge of the knife, the man slowly pulled the panties strap away from her hip, father and farther…until at last it snapped.


The young woman's body jerked uncontrollably at this, and her sobs intensified. And then, the knife was under the strap that encircled the other hip, only there was no pause this time, and no slow tugging on the strap.

This time the knife flashed suddenly and swiftly and in less time than it takes to say it, the ruined pair of panties was ripped from the young woman's body and flung from the knife blade, striking the wall of the room, where it then slid to the floor, leaving a wet mark where it hit.

The frightened young woman, grimacingher body shaking in irrepressible fear, instinctively brought her legs together, rolled onto her side and curled into a fetal position in an attempt to hide the most intimate part of her naked body—naked save for the tattered blouse and bra around her shoulders—from the eyes of her attacker.

Her own eyes remained fixed on the knife that he held. She could not take her eyes off it. She had to know where it was. The man, meanwhile, was the cat who has wounded a bird just enough that the bird cannot fly, and who watches the bird intently as it flops around helplessly in circles on the ground, frantically chirping, flapping wings that no longer allow it to fly.

Like that cat, this predator was watching his wounded prey as she was able to writhe on the bed but unable to escape his clutches. The sobbing sounds she made, her labored breathing, and the way her calves slowly kicked back and forth in her fetal position could not have fascinated the man more had she been an actual wounded bird, and he an actual cat.

For the second time, the woman's attacker spoke. "You don't like the knife do you, sweetie?" The woman's weeping stopped in mid sob. She stared at the man in shock. The mere fact that he had spoken jarred her, but even more jolting was the word, itself. "Sweetie". That was her husband's favorite term of endearment for her.

Hearing her attacker say it sickened her. "Do you want me to put the knife away?" he asked. Staring at him still, she offered no response. Her attacker raised his voice. "I said, do you want me to put the fucking knife away?" The woman appeared dumbstruck for another long moment, and then, blinking tears from her eyes, nodded timidly. "I'll put it away if you'll be a good girl, okay?" A long pause, and then the young woman again gave a timid nod.

"You'll do as I say?" Again his victim hesitated. Her mind, cleared now, raced frantically. Her rape was inevitable. She knew that. She had been careless, and she was going to pay the consequences for her carelessness. Now, she needed a strategy that would see her survive this ordeal alive. The man's voice this time showed signs of impatience: "I asked you a question, sweetie.

Will you do what I fucking tell you to do if I put away the knife?" The word "sweetie" again. Thoughts of her husband ran through her head. I want to see you again, baby! To make sure that she would survive to see her husband again, she knew what she had to do.

She had no choice. She therefore pushed thoughts of her husband aside and nodded vigorously to her attacker. The man smiled, and tossed the knife into the open black bag. "Okay," he then said, standing with his hands on his hips, looking down at the naked young woman on the bed. She could see the bulge in his pants out of the corners of her eyes. "Be the good girl and spread your legs for me." The young blonde gulped, seemingly swallowing half of her gag.

She did not move for a long moment. The man's eyes bearing down on her had the effect of paralyzing her. "Either you be a good girl," he continued calmly, "or I'll carve your tits, like I promised." The young woman stared up at her captor in horror. Everything in the way he looked at her convinced her that he was not a man whose threats were to be taken lightly.

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Knowing that she had no choice in the matter, she fought her paralysis and slowly unfurled her top leg as she lay on her side. The man watched her in fascination: the cat intently following the movements of the wounded bird dragging itself across the ground.

Remaining on her side in a fetal position, the young woman's upper leg slithered downward across the sheet of the mattress at a snail's pace until the knee eventually straightened. Her lower leg remained tucked against her chest. "Get on your back!" she was told gruffly.

With outward reluctance, the young woman hesitatingly complied. She did not want to put the weight of her body back on her arms, but then, there were a lot of things that were happening at that moment that the young blonde did not want to be happening. Unfortunately, her captor was holding all the cards. As she rolled onto her back, she brought her thighs tightly together and then extended her second leg downward. Her breathing was becoming extremely difficult. She was sniffling constantly now in attempts to clear the snot and blood that was blocking her nasal passages, but was having little success.

Unable to take a deep breathe, she could only get air through quick little gasps. "Open your thighs for me, sweetie." The man's tone was rather impatient now. In utter humiliation, his victim fixed her eyes on the ceiling above her. Was there someone in the room above? Just on the other side of the thin ceiling that separated their rooms?

Someone so near, yet so far? Someone who could call 911 if only they knew what was transpiring just a few feet below them? If only her mouth were not stuffed with a rag, they could hear her scream and would surely help her. She heard the man's voice again, and it jarred her back to reality from her wandering thoughts about 911 calls and the possibility of police coming to bang on her door.

The voice was saying something about whether she preferred seeing his knife again at her nipples. Grimacing bitterly and biting into her gag, the young blonde, against every instinct she possessed, slowly opened her legs before the leering eyes of her captor.

You miserable, perverted son-of-a-bitch! "Wider!" the man commanded when she paused after opening perhaps a 30° angle between her luscious thighs. "And don't bend your knees. Keep the legs nice and straight!" The young woman vacillated momentarily as uninvited thoughts of her dear husband returned.

I am so sorry, baby! The tears that now squirted from tightly shut eyes were for him. It was only when she heard her assailant command her with the word "wider" one more time that she bite into her gag ever more fiercely and spread her thighs to 60°.

I am so sorry, baby! she thought again, unable to banish her husband from her minds as she spread her nakedness before the eyes of another man. "And open your eyes!" the man demanded. "Look at me!" Frightened, his victim did as she was told. What she saw had been expected, but it shocked her nonetheless: her captor was undressing. His shirt was already unbuttoned, and as he took it off, she saw strong, muscular arms and chest.

No wonder he had been able to subdue her so easily! The man nodded impatiently at her thighs. "Wider, damn it!" he said, although the view she was already offering him gave him full carnal knowledge of her female anatomy. She had shaved there just recently, and her captor could readily see in detail the pinkness of her labia. But he was not satisfied. "As wide as you can!" As wide as you can, ten years ago, would have been a 180° split, which she frequently did with ease as a high school cheerleader.

She was probably incapable of that, now. Fresh tears streamed down the young woman's cheeks. Sniffling almost constantly now, she grimaced and with effort took her thighs to a right angle 90° before her contorted face gave way to renewed sobbing.

She cried unintelligible utterances into her gag, her body rocking back and forth, seemingly trying—without success—to extricate her arms from beneath her back while her to-die-for thighs remained dutifully kept at their 90° spread before the lustful gaze of her assailant lest he threaten her again with his gruesome knife.

Soon, these latest tears ran their course and the young blonde's body, though still shaking, settled back down on the mattress. Out of the corner of tear filled eyes she saw that the man was naked now himself, and saw that he had a very large—and very hard—penis. She shuddered and rolled her head to where it faced away from him. She heard him laugh. "Look at me, sweetie," she heard him say, but, having apparently found an amount of renewed defiance, the young woman shook her head vigorously and continued looking away from the sight of her naked captor, although her thighs obediently remained 90° opened before him.

Though looking away, from the corner of her eye she saw the man lean over the bed, reaching for his black bag. She panicked. The knife?! No, please! We had a deal! Unable to not watch, her head turned back toward him and her eyes anxiously followed his movements. She saw that it was something other than the knife that he pulled from his bag of evil tricks.

It appeared to be a tube of something. Like toothpaste. Her eyes followed him as he stood erect again and opened the tube. No, it was not toothpaste. It was K-T Jelly. As the man began applying a generous amount of the shiny lubricates to his rigid manhood, she watched, transfixed.

It was the largest male organ she had ever seen, and she had seen precisely four of them since first sucking a boyfriend's cock in high school. She could not imagine that such a big penis could…that she could possibly&hellip. Oh, my god! Having seen enough, the young woman grimaced and again quickly tossed her head the other way.

The man stepped to the very foot of the bed and grasped the young woman by her wide spread ankles. She gave a muffled shriek into her gag as he pulled her roughly toward him, her bare crotch coming close to where his greased, male sex stood at full erection.

Ignoring her faint protests, her assailant held her ankles wide apart and stood between them. For the young woman, this was surreal. She saw blurrily through tear filled eyes—before shutting them tightly—how his penis fairly glistened with the shiny lubricant that coated it. With his arms under the young woman's knees, her assailant raised her legs brusquely into the air until her spread thighs were vertical to the floor, and draped her ankles over his shoulders.

"Can I fuck you?" the man asked, his voice husky. Though this question was most assuredly rhetorical, and of a taunting nature, the man expected an answer, and when the young woman did not respond, he repeated it. His victim, however, lying before him on the mattress with her arms pinned beneath her and her ankles draped over his shoulders, was lifeless, unresponsive. He then slapped her face so hard that blood splattered from the corners of her mouth, speckling the crisp, white bed sheet with bright crimson droplets.

His blow had the desired result of reawaking his victim. She came alive and stared with hatred into his eyes. "Can I fuck you?" he repeated. When she still did not respond to his question, he raised his hand to administer another blow to her face, but then she quickly nodded her head. The man smiled.

"Yes? I can fuck you?" Again the beautiful young blonde—not so beautiful now from the beating she has received—nodded her head, this time vigorously. Her eyes were as big as saucers above the gag in her mouth. "You want me to fuck you?" This time, with no hesitation, not wanting to be struck again, the young woman nodded.

"Will your husband mind if I fuck his wife?" The young woman stared at him in wild anger. Don't mention my husband, you miserable god forsaken bastard!

The man laughed, and then hissed when he spoke: "Tell me, you little bitch! Is your lovey-dovey husband going to mind if I fuck his hot little wife!?" Fear, anger and revulsion griped her. Thinking again of the end game and of her survival, and desperately trying to shove any thoughts of her husband from her head, the young woman shook her head.

No, this gesture told her captor, her husband would not mind. The man laughed again as he guided his penis to the threshold of the young married woman's vagina. "I'd sure as hell mind if my wife went out of town and fucked some dude behind my back!" This remark blinded the young woman with rage.

It gave her the courage to lift an ankle off her attacker's shoulder and kick furiously at his face. Her bare heel struck his jaw solidly, and the man cursed. He quickly subdued the errant foot and looked down menacingly at his victim. She was no longer crying. She seemed perhaps incapable of shedding further tears. What she was doing was returning his stare with unadulterated hatred. "So", the man hissed, "you wanna fight me, now, huh, sweetie? Good. I like it when bitches fight me back," he added, although, in reality, this was his first experience in attacking a woman in this manner.

"Makes me wanta fuck 'em that much harder!" Having grabbed hold of both her ankles now, and controlling the situation the entire while, he allowed her to struggle with her squirming feet close to his face for as long as she cared.

The more she struggled, the harder his cock seemed to become. He was careful, though, that she not land another meaningful kick to his jaw. The first one had hurt more than he would admit. The young woman soon tired of the small amount of fight that had been in her. The man felt her feet cease in their attempts to kick him, and he once again draped her ankles over his shoulders. Her entire body went limp with exhaustion. Had she been able to breathe at all well, she might have prolonged her statement of defiance, but that was all it had been: merely a statement.

She was doomed to be raped all along, and she knew it. She was not even sobbing anymore over her fate. Her head flopped back and forth a few more times on the mattress, but then came to rest on her cheek. This, plus the way her body sagged limply into the mattress, was her sign to her rapist to go ahead and do whatever he was going to do to her and get it bloody well over with. Her attacker is ready to oblige. He takes a half step forward and guides his penis to the slit opening of her sex between her vertical, Sports Illustrated-quality thighs.

The tip of his penis noses it way against her labia. He pauses there. He is finding that the height of the bed is slightly too low for perfect penetration. Keeping the young woman's ankles draped over his shoulders, he reaches for a pillow and shoves it under her ass, elevating her pubic region just enough so that her vagina is now at the exact height and perfect angle to receive maximum penetration.

Moaning softly, she is completely passive as he does this. Satisfied now with the geometry, the man guides his cock once again to the threshold of the young woman's sex.

Again, the head of his manhood pushes aside the outer folds of its female counterpart. The young woman squirms, but only slightly so now, meaning that his penis no longer requires the guidance of his hand. His hands are free to grasp the woman by her shoulders. Pausing for a brief moment to admire her beautiful face—a face made even more beautiful now, at least in his estimation, with the gag, the splattering of blood and the tight grimace—the predator pushes forward with his pelvis and sends two inches of his penis into young, married woman's tight vagina.

The heavily lubricated phallus has no trouble penetrating her, despite the fact that her sex is constricted and dry from the pain of her slapped face and unmitigated fear. The man pauses with his penis after gaining those first two inches, his prey lying on pinned arms, her legs high in the air with her ankles draped over his shoulders. The man squeezes her shoulders. "Open your eyes, sweetie." His voice is actually soft and gentle when he says this.

The young woman hears the word Sweetie again. Her husband's term for her! Because of this, she cannot shake the image of her husband from her thoughts as the consummation of her rape begins, and this breaks her heart. I am so sorry for this, honey! "Open your eyes, honey." Her rapist's voice is still soft and calm.

"I want you to be looking into my eyes when I fuck you." Judging only be his tone, he might have been telling her that he loved her. He shakes her by the shoulders again when she doesn't respond and repeats his order, although this time not so lovingly. When she still does not obey, he pulls her ruined bra from where it is tangled around her shoulders together with the remnants of her sexy white blouse.

He wraps the bra straps around her neck and pulls on them in opposite directions, applying tourniquet pressure to her throat. "Open your fucking eyes, bitch!" Whether it is his words or the threat of strangulation from her own bra, the young blonde's eyes shoot open.

They are partially swollen and teary, but the soft blueness of them is a color that a man can get lost in. "That's better!" the man hisses, and, leaving his victim's torn bra around her neck, thrusts forward with his lower abdomen, plunging the rest of his cock deep into the young woman's pussy. He is rewarded by the biggest pair of bug eyes he has ever seen, before her eyeballs involuntarily roll back in their sockets.

The young blonde, who has been eye fucked by strange men her entire adult life, is now being fucked for real by one of them, and she is incredulous at the feel of his penis as it is shoved inside her. It is much larger than any cock she has ever taken, and it seems that it must be thicker in diameter than the internal bore of her vagina, which is forced to expand in order to receive it.

When she first glimpsed the size of his penis, she had feared that it would tear her painfully. To her shocking surprise—could it dare be construed as "relief"?—his cock has been lubricated to such an extent that it actually has taken possession of her quite effortlessly. In fact, the ease with which she has been penetrated might be of greater humiliation than the penetration itself!

The young woman's rapist begins fucking her with deft thrusts and slow withdrawals. He is amazed at the way she feels on the end of his dick, as though the lips and walls of her tight pussy are clinging to his piston for dear life. As for the young woman, she has felt nauseous for a long time, and the sickening feeling of his penis inside her now causes her to retch.

With the gag in her mouth and her nostrils clogged with snot and blood, there is nowhere for the vomit to go. Her body begins to convulse in choking as the vomit fills her passageways and blocks off the last little bit of air that she had been able to get.

She can no longer breathe. Her body rocks. Her blue eyes bug outward as she stares upward frantically at her assailant who is now fucking her with firm, in-and-out strokes. When the man notices that his victim is turning blue, he reaches for the gag and rips it from her mouth, knowing she will probably choke to death if he doesn't.

Necrophilia is not his thing. He prefers his women to be very much alive and very aware of what he is doing to them. With the soaked rag at last freed from her mouth, the young woman rolls her head to its side and allows the vomit in her mouth to pour out, running down her cheek and onto the mattress as she continues to be fucked.

She then gasps thankfully for large intakes of air that are now possible with a wide open, gaping mouth. As she breathes in the air, her chest heaving in the process, she seems oblivious to the fact that her rapist is scooting her body, together with the pillow under her ass, to another part off the bed, away from the nasty vomit. She barely hears her assailant telling her that if she screams now with the gag out of her mouth, he will kill her. "Do you hear me?!" he insists, repeating his threat.

The young woman, her eyes shut and her mouth as wide open as it can be, nods wearily. Yes. She understands. She is just so very thankful to have the gag pulled from her mouth. Breathing is all she cares about. She will not scream. She would have earlier.

Not now. Not any longer. The stalker, who first spotted his beautiful, young target only hours earlier at that night club where she was partying with her friend and fellow bridesmaids, now consumes his prey with the gusto of the predator that he is. Standing by the side of the bed, with the woman on her back and her legs held in the air by his arms, he fucks her with abandon. Each inward shove of his cock elicits groans that emanate from deep within her and exit though her gaping mouth.

The angle in which he is holding her provides maximum penetration, and she acutely feels not only the width of his swollen manhood inside her, but the length of it, as well, as the head of his cocks bangs against her cervix with each inward thrust.

When his pace becomes even more frantic, the sounds she makes are one continuous, guttural, animal utterance that could be heard through the door of her hotel room, but then, it was not uncommon for sounds such as these to be heard at this hour in a fancy hotel, and any bellhop passing by who knew his place would have discretely continued on.

After fucking his now compliant young victim in this manner for long minutes, the man tires of holding her legs in the air and shoves her further back onto the bed and crawls on top of her, keeping himself between her legs as he does so. His penis slips from her pussy during this maneuver, but once he has the young woman repositioned where he wants her, he easily guides himself back into her. Allowing her legs to fall to the mattress on either side of his body, he proceeds once again to fornicate with the young blonde with the relish of a starving man crashing a feast.

As he sends his cock in and out of her, he pictures her the way she looked earlier in the evening partying with her friends on the joyous occasion of the bachelorette outing.

He wonders if she will still be among the brides' maids at the wedding the next day. If so, it might be fun to sneak into the church and watch her from the back pews. After a long while, the man, sensing he is on the verge of shooting his rocks, eases off. He is enjoying this immensely, and wants the moment to last. He was right about rape—he is finding it to be a massive turn-on. He reduces his movements to a slow, easy cadence, that of a soft, gentle lover wanting to savor the occasion.

His penis still goes into her deeply, and withdraws almost to the point of separation, in cycle after cycle, but in a subtle, sensuous pace now. This slowdown allows the young blonde to gather her breathe, and for the first time she speaks to her rapist. "Please", she pants, her voice soft, weak. "Please don't come inside me…I'm not on the pill&hellip." Her attacker pauses in mid fuck stroke. He looks as her face carefully and asks her to repeat what she just said.

"I'm…I…please…please don't come inside me…" she stammers, her voice a thin, reedy whisper.

"Why" she is asked. There is a trace of humor in the man's voice, but there is hope in the woman's weak voice as she again tells him that she is not on birth control. He orders her to tell him this again. She does so, frantically, hoping against hope that he will show her some mercy in this respect.

He tells her yet to repeat herself yet again, and when she does, he gives her another fuck stroke which makes her cry out in surprise.

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"Don't stop saying it!" he hisses to her! Suddenly, the woman realizes in disgust that he has only been toying with her. Her humiliation is complete. She stops talking. But then her attacker's hands are again pulling on the bra straps that have never been taken from around her neck.

"Keep telling me this, sweetie!" he rasps. "Tell me not to come in your pussy!" "Go to hell!" the young woman cries out defiantly, but then then her rapist is pulling the bra straps around her throat so tightly that she panics.

"Okay, okay!" she sputters. "Okay what, bitch?" He doesn't loosen the straps around his victim's neck, and gives her three more solid fuck thrusts, each one reminding the young woman of the big difference in cock size between this man and her husband. She quickly banishes this disgusting thought from her consciousness as she resolves to do—to say—what she must say. The bra straps around her throat are hurting her.

"I…" She pauses, gulps hard, and sniffles several times, before continuing. "Please…please don't…" Being half strangled by her own bra, it's hard for her to speak. "Don't what?" "Don't…come inside me…" "Inside your pussy!" the man commands, tightening his choke hold on her neck. "My pussy!" she gasps. "A whole sentence, goddamn it!" he hisses at her, fucking her now with slow grinding movements.

Hating herself for having given him fodder to taunt her with—for having even verbally recognized his existence—the young, married woman, truly worried about being impregnated by a rapist, complies with his demands. "Don't…come… inside…inside my…inside my pussy!" She spits this out as best she can, her voice hoarse, her throat on fire.

She is rewarded by feeling an easing of the pressure of the bras straps around her neck. She is also acutely aware of how her rapist's penis is again moving in and out of her. "Louder!" she is told. "Don't…please don't come inside…my pussy", she cries.

"Wrap your feet around my ass!" she is told as he continues to pound her sexually. Knowing that she had best do as told, the young woman meekly complies. The force of the bra strap around her throat has not been completely released. She slowly, tentatively lifts what had been dead legs into the air.

Her calves encircle her rapist's buttocks and her ankles lock together above him. "Squeeze me!" he commands. Grimacing, the young blonde submits to his wishes and flexes her athletic thigh muscles against the ribs of her rapist as he fucks her with force. The feel his body on the insides of her thighs makes her nauseous all over again.

Her feet, locked together above his ass, jiggle with each rapid fuck thrust she receives. The man, meanwhile, feeling her luscious thighs clinging to his ribs, senses he is on the verge of orgasm, and holds back again in his thrusting. This is so much fun, he wants it to last! "I didn't tell you to shut up!" he whispers hoarsely in the woman's ear.

The young woman is finding this verbal provocation to be nearly as infuriating as the sexual assault itself; however, not wishing to feel the dreadful bra straps around her neck once again, she quickly speaks. He is fucking her with less intensity now, and it is easier for her to speak. "Don't come…" she begins, but then her voice falters under the stress of fifty different emotions.

"Yes?" he says, stroking her long, blonde hair gently, just as gently as his cock now goes in and out of her vagina—as gentle as a genuine lover. "Don't what, baby?" The young woman composes herself as best she can under the circumstances.

"I…please don't come…inside my pussy." With difficulty, she manages to spit out the words that her rapist wants to hear. Words that make her want to vomit again. "Why?" the man demands. "I'm not on the pill!" she cries. "Why the fuck not?" Weeping bitterly once again, the young blonde struggles with her choice.

Does she utter the most intimate details of her personal life to this vicious rapist, or does she want to feel the bra straps again? Or perhaps the cold, steel knife blade again? If speaking the things he wants to hear will prevent that, then, what choice does she have? Making her decision, she cries out: "I want to get pregnant!" Her rapist's body jerks so hard in laughter that his penis slips from her vagina.

He reaches for it and guides it back inside her, then gives her a number of strokes with it. "Well, I can help you out there, sweetie!" "No!" she cries, gasping, but her rapist ignores her and begins fucking her hard once again.

His force drives her body into her forearms and hands beneath her, parts of her body that are too numb to feel pain. What does hurt is the way her ass is being ground into the metal handcuffs connecting her wrists.

She unlocks her ankles from around her assailant's ass and allows her legs to drop limply to the mattress. The man sends his arms between those legs now, spreading them wide. His hands grasp his victim by both her buttocks, his fingers digging deep into their firm flesh.

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He is fucking her so hard, and his cock is so big, that the young woman feels as if her entire womb is being sucked out of her on his outward withdrawals, only to be stuffed back inside her on each inward thrust, all in rapid fire succession.

If she is pregnant, her fetus is getting a workout. "No-o-o-o!" the young woman cries, her vocal cords vibrating from the onslaught. She is sensing that he is ready to ejaculate. "No…please no…oh god…not inside me!" This time her pleas are genuine, not something that she has been forced to say to please whatever perverted turn-on it gave her rapist.

"Please no," she gasps. "Not inside me! No! No! Please!" Ignoring her pleas, the young woman's rapist plants his cock as deep into her vagina as anatomically possible.

"No!" she cries one last time before a torrent of semen explodes within her, bathing the deepest recesses of her womb in one massive squirt after another. Feeling this, the young woman grimaces, and her mouth gapes open, but no other sound comes from her as millions of her rapist's sperm cells swim madly within her in frantic search for a fertile egg cell to impregnate. After pausing to fully appreciate the intensity of his ejaculation, the man—his dick still rock hard—resumes fucking the young woman, whose body has now gone as limp as a rag doll.

He continues doing her for two or three minutes. She is lifeless as he does this. At long last, his sweaty body collapses heavily in exhaustion on top of her.

XXXXX A half hour passed. The beautiful young blonde lay face down on the bed in her hotel room. She was still naked. Her torn bra remained wrapped around her neck, and her destroyed blouse bunched around her shoulders.

Her hands were still cuffed behind her back, but at least now she was no longer compelled to be lying on her arms. She was regretful that she could not get up immediately and give herself a thorough shower and cleansing.

She had never felt filthier in her life, lying on a bed where she had peed and vomited, with her face caked with blood and snot and dried tears, and her body coated with her rapist's sweat.

The filth that she most acutely felt was the sticky residue of her rapist's sperm that had oozed from her vagina and became smeared over the insides of her thighs. She was afraid, however, to move, to try to get up.

Her rapist was still in the room! For a long while after he had finished with her, he had lain heavily upon her in exhaustion, savoring his conquest, the weight of both their bodies crushing her forearms and wrists into the mattress, the handcuffs digging into her bare ass. When at last he rolled off her, she had remained as he left her, on her back, legs splayed, his sperm dripping from her pussy and soaking the sheets between her thighs.

It was only after several minutes that she found the energy to roll over onto her stomach and felt the relief of at long last having the painful weight off her numbed arms. Her cuffed hands rested on the upper most swell of her bare buttocks. She gingerly twitched her almost lifeless fingers.

She was staring at the curtains on the far wall of her hotel room as her attacker sat in a chair on the other side of the bed.

She was no longer sobbing. There was apparently a limit to the amount of tears one can cry. Her nostrils were mostly congested, and she breathed through a panting mouth. The beginnings of a pair of black eyes—giving her a raccoon-like appearance—could easily be seen, results of the viscous slaps to the face she had received. Without the gag, she could have screamed now had she wished, but she knew that if she did, even if she managed one loud scream, the man would beat her senseless before she managed a second one.

Besides, he was done with her now…wasn't he? He was going to be leaving the room soon…wasn't he? Well… the fact that he had slipped into one of the white, terrycloth robes he had found in the bathroom did not portend a quick exit. The young woman continued staring grimly at the curtains, unsure of her immediate fate. As she lay there in silence, of greater concern to the young woman than her external filthiness was the filth inside her: she knew that a bucket lead of her rapist's sperm had been deposited within her.

It was a despicable feeling. How dared this man to have thought that he could simply take her and use her body in this manner, as if she were nothing more than an object—a receptacle—for his sick pleasure!

And, in addition to the dirty feeling that had been used like a public toilet, was the very real fear that his sperm could be impregnating her at that very moment as she lay there helpless. She wished desperately to get off the bed immediately and go douche herself. He was still in the room, but maybe he would let her do that?

She was too afraid to find out. It was when she heard the man rifling through her purse that she turned her head in his direction. She watched as he dumped the contents of her purse on a table by the chair where he sat in the white bath robe.

He had also opened one of those tiny bottles of whisky from the room's mini-bar and killed half of it before beginning his examination of the contents from her purse.

This invasion of her privacy cut further into her soul that had already been deeply sundered by rape. Beside the chair in which her rapist sat was the camera on the tall tripod. The red light was still on, and the camera's lens was still staring directly at her in unblinking fashion.

It had captured everything, she knew, as she stared at the camera like a deer in headlights. Then, realizing that someone at some time would undoubtedly be watching the video and would at this moment be looking into her eyes, she buried her face into the mattress, but not before noticing that the man had come across a photo of her and her husband when they were on their honeymoon, smiling and madly in love. She knew that the man would read the slightly naughty, intimate note that her husband had penned on the back of the photo.

After having been viciously raped, his reading of this note might have been a relatively small additional insult, but it did not feel small to her at all. The man discovered a small canister of mace that the woman carried in her purse. He smiled as he examined it carefully. He pointed it in the direction of the bed as if he was going to spray it. "This is to protect you from guys like me?" he asked, chuckling.

The young woman, her face buried in the mattress, did not respond. Next he carefully examined her driver's license.


He read her name and address aloud, causing his naked victim on the bed to shudder. He told her that if she went to the police on this and they fingered him, friends of his would hunt her and her husband down.

This was bullshit, but he said it quite convincingly, and the young blonde turned her head back to the curtains on the far wall and swallowed hard. The man carefully studied his victim lying on the bed, motionless save for fingers gently twitching atop the curvature of her ass.

He liked the way her disheveled, blonde hair framed the torn blouse around her shoulders. His eyes trailed down arms that were pulled from the sides of her body and secured behind her long, sleek back. His eyes lingered on her tantalizingly round derriere before continuing on, moving down silky, toned and tanned legs. But his eyes then came back and became fixated on the ass. It was delightfully firm and round and protruded upward higher than anything else on her body save for the fingers of her hands that rested above it.

The satisfaction of having possessed this stunningly beautiful woman had left him satiated, his cock a limp noodle, but now, after having rested for over half an hour, and feeling the effects of the whisky warming his innards, the sight of this marvelous creature lying naked on her hotel bed, at his total disposal, was once again stirring his animal lust.

If the young woman only knew how the sight of her firm, round ass was reawakening her rapist's arousal, she would probably have wanted to roll over onto her back again. The woman's mind, meanwhile, continued racing in regard to the possibility of her having just being impregnated by a rapist. Maybe she could go to a pharmacy and get the morning after pill? But what if she were already pregnant from her husband?

Would a morning after pill be harmful to the fetus? Was the vicious way he fucked me harmful for a fetus? The man took a final swig of the whiskey and stood. His cock protruded out between the opening of the terrycloth robe, parallel to the floor, like a horizontal flag pole.

It was still shiny from the K-Y Jelly that he applied before fucking the young woman. Another man's wife. Mingled with the K-Y Jelly were secretions from the young woman's vagina that had not been allowed to dry due to their being mixed with the lubricant.

The young blonde next heard the closet door being opened. She heard her captor say "aha", and lifted her head to see what he was doing. He had pulled from the closet an elegant, light purple gown on a hanger. "I thought your bridesmaid's dress would be here somewhere," he said. He carried the garment to where it was within range of the camera, and turned it around and around on the hanger, showing it from various angles.

"You're going to look great in this dress tomorrow, sweetie. Very classy." As creepy as this was, his words actually gave the young woman some semblance of relief. They indicated to her that she was going to be alive tomorrow&hellip. "Please go," she said softly, her voice weak.

"I won't tell anybody about this. Just go." Her lips trembled as she spoke. The man laughed. He hung the bridesmaid's dress back in the closet and turned to regard his victim on the bed. God, was she hot! She had rolled to her side and was facing him. The knee of her upper leg came down to touch the mattress, hiding her sex from view; however, there was no way she could hide the frontal nudity of her upper body from her captor or the infernal camera that was filming her every move.

Nor did she even try. At this stage of the game, it no longer mattered. That horse had left the barn a long time ago. "Please leave me alone now," she pleaded. In response, the man walked toward the bed. The woman began to tremble as he neared. She watched as he pulled the belt from the loops of his robe, and kept the belt in his hands as the robe fell to the floor.

His penis was enormous again. The young woman rolled back onto her back with her arms pinned beneath her. Her thighs were held tightly together. "No!" she pleaded. "Not again! Please&hellip." She had not expected this. She had assumed that after raping her once, he would be through with her.

What was this? Her husband was always snoring five minutes after sex! The man stood before the bed, looking down at the hourglass figure of his prey. The sight of her lying there, naked and totally vuenrable—his to use as he chose—excited him, lifting his cock from a parallel position to the floor to a forty-five degree upright angle. "Roll over!" he commanded her. "Why?" she whimpered. "Don't ask why, sweetie.

Just fuckin' do as I say!" "What… what are going to do…?" she asked. Her captor did not answer. He did not have to. It took several moments, but the terrifying way in which he starred at her made her swallow hard and then, without having to be told again, she obediently rolled over onto her stomach.

Her captor stared at this site for a good spell. Yes, indeed, her body was smoking hot. He noticed her fingers twitching as her hands rested above her bare ass. "Nice ring," he said, referring to the gold wedding band around her ring finger. The young woman's body stiffened in fear. "Not cheap," he added. Oh my god, he's going to steal me ring! "You know," he continued, "you really shouldn't cheat on your husband like this. I saw his picture. He looks like a nice guy—" "Shut up!" the young woman cried, and then dissolved into sobs once again.

When she felt the man crawl onto the bed, she cried "No!" sharply, and began kicking her calves in protest. "Leave me alone, you son-of-a bitch!" One of her kicking heels barely grazed his exposed testicles. Had the kick landed properly it could have hurt him badly, and he cursed at his own carelessness. He controlled her legs and sat upon them. He forced the white terrycloth belt under her head and slipped it into her mouth and tied it around her head, taming her cries which had become too loud for his taste.

The belt was not the scream-proof gag that he had used on her earlier, but it suited him at the moment. He didn't want to totally shut her up. Plus, he rather liked the way the young blonde looked with the bathrobe belt tied through her mouth and around her head.

Still, she was too restive for his taste. He pulled in opposite directions on the bra straps that encircled her neck. The straps cut into her, putting pressure on her ability to breathe.

The young woman, all too familiar with the rules of the game, quickly submitted to her captor, letting her body go limp and reducing her vocal protests to minor gurgles that were absorbed by the terrycloth belt that invaded her mouth.

She was rewarded by feeling an ease in the pressure of the bra straps around her throat. She cried softly in sobs that gently shook her body. The next thing the young woman felt was her attacker's mouth on one of her ripe, round buttocks. She squirmed and cried as he bit into her there and sucked the supple flesh from her derriere into his mouth.

Her cries of protest expired in the saliva dampened terrycloth belt as her attacker proceeded in applying a bright red hickey to this special part of her smoking hot body. Her bound hands thrashed madly as he did this, and in doing so her long fingernails gouged his cheek, drawing blood. Cursing, the man grabbed the handcuffs and held them by the center chain to control her movements.

Then, as he continued to administer the hickey, with one hand securing her handcuffs, fingers of his other hand toyed with the young woman's wedding ring just inches from where his lips kissed her fine ass. The man next moved his face to his prey's other buttock where he began a second hickey that would match the first one. His teeth bit into the softness of her butt with such intensity that she was fearful he would actually rip out a mouthful of flesh.

All she could do was bury her face in the mattress and whimper like a wounded animal as her attacker had his way with her. "Your hubby's a lucky bastard," the man growled, saying this with his lips pressed against her buttocks and his fingers toying with her wedding ring. "Shut up!" she cried, but with the belt in her mouth and her face buried in the mattress, her words were unintelligible. "He's married to a great piece of ass!" he continued as he kissed and sucked on her ass.

He finished with his second hickey and lifted his head, examining the sleekness of the young woman's back. "You are a fantastic piece of ass, sweetie! Does he fuck you a lot?" "Shut up!" Leaving her ass, her attacker shifted his body upward and reached for his knife in the black bag.

With it, he proceeded to cut off the remaining remnants of her blouse that had been bunched around her shoulders since the beginning of his assault. The young woman was passive as he did this, and once the final scrap of material was cut away from her armpits, she was, at last, totally nude. Only the terrycloth gag around her head, the torn bra around her neck, and the handcuffs around her wrists make her less naked than the day she was born.

Roughly, the man rolled the young woman onto her back once again, her arms beneath her. Her head and legs flopped lifelessly as he did this, like those of a rag doll. He then kicked open her legs and sat between them. His hands went to her breasts and began to massage them, gently at first, but then with increasing vigor, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of boobs that earlier in the evening had nicely filled the ruined 36C bra that now encircled her neck.

With a hand on each tit, a thumb and forefinger converged at the nipples atop the twin mounds. The beautiful, young blonde, her arms cuffed beneath her body, stared upward at the ceiling with tear blurred vision. She fixated on a crack in the plaster in a futile attempt to take her mind elsewhere while her attacker fondled her breasts unhindered.

It was a vain attempt, however, because the man's fingers were pinching her nipples so hard that she could not possibly ignore it. She cried out in pain, but her sounds were muffled by the terrycloth belt in her mouth. She next felt his mouth on her right breast and her body stiffened. Her legs contracted, but when she felts the sides of man's abdomen with the insides of her bare thighs, she quickly yanked them apart again.

The man's tongue was now dancing with her nipple while his fingers continued to tweak and pinch her other nipple. Both of them—assailant and victim—were aware of how her nipple, which had a mind of its own, hardened against the touch of his tongue.

His mouth then gathered in as much of her breast meat as possible and begins to suck hard. The young woman squirmed, her chest heaving with encumbered breathing, causing her soaking wet breast to be a moving target for her attacker's mouth, and eventually the saliva-coated boob did slip out, making a suction noise as it did so. The man seemed fine with this. He now moved his mouth downward and bit into her breast beneath the nipple.

The young woman shrieked in pain into the gag and tossed her head back and forth upon the mattress in agony. Her assailant then turned his attention to her other breast, cupping it in both hands, pressing it hard, and then taking the nipple into his mouth as it bobbed atop the squeezed mound. After long moments of sucking nipple, the man's mouth trailed downward an inch and his teeth bite into the soft, delicious flesh on the underside of this breast in the same manner as he bit the first one.

The young woman's body thrashed in objection, but she could not escape. As he sustained hold of her breast with one hand and his mouth, his other hand moved down her body, to the juncture of her thighs. Once there, his fingers swiftly, arrogantly took possession of her.

As his mouth put the finishing touches on a blistering hickey just below her nipple, two fingers shot into her vagina while his thumb caressed her clitoris.

At first, the young woman followed her instinct to close her legs against such unwanted invasion, but quickly realized that the pressing of her thighs together only increased the intensity of the feel of his hand and fingers against her womanhood. Overreacting, she jerked her legs apart, but was rewarded by having her attacker's fingers dig into her even deeper. Frustrated, exasperated, not knowing what to do, the beautiful young blonde did the only thing she could do: shake her head back and forth on the mattress while her rapist sucked her tit and finger fucked her.

At one point, when her head came to a momentary rest facing the camera, she caught herself again looking directly into the infernal lens, into the eyes of whoever would be viewing this damnable video.

Quickly, she jerked her head to the other side. Sensing that his victim was beyond further meaningful physical resistance, her attacker moved his head slowly downward, his tongue tasting her as it went, until his face was between her luscious thighs. Pushing the thighs ever wider apart, he brought his face to where his fingers had parted her vulva, giving him an up close view of the cunt he had so recently fucked.

He could see traces of his semen oozing from her vagina and hungrily brought his mouth to her wetness and proceeded to give the young woman the wickedest three minutes of cunnilingus that she had ever experienced. She wanted desperately to grasp his head and pull it away from her and make him quit this, because it was too intense and too intimate and too crazy as his nose and lips and teeth had their way with her genitals in a way that no man had ever had before. While he had been abusing her breasts, she had been able—save for the painful bites—to focus somewhat on the cracks in the ceiling and on her breathing and in some small way put part of her mind on a shelf.

What was happening to her now, however, was too intense to ignore. Now, all her senses were zeroed in on the masterful eating that her pussy was receiving, and she was making noises that her attacker might have considered too loud.

A number of such noises now emanated from her throat: moans that could clearly be heard if somebody in the next room has their ear against the wall, despite the terrycloth belt in her mouth. These were moans of protest, to be sure, but interspersed among them were also, if truth were told, other types of moans, as well. Her attacker forced his hands under her ass and lifted her lower abdomen into the air, her head remaining planted on the mattress.

Holding her firmly by the buttocks, he continued devouring her as if he were a starving boar hog rooting out the last morsels from a slop trough. The squirming young woman, meanwhile, was making the sounds of a stuck piglet. After minutes of this, the man at last pulled his face from the young woman's crotch. Spinning her body around, he dropped her face down onto the bed, her legs straddling his kneeling body.

The ripped bra that had encircled her neck fell free as this happened. Two things left her stunned and bewildered after she landed on top of her torn bra and stared in wide eyed amazement at the headboard of the bed.

One was the physical strength of her assailant, who could toss her around bodily as if she were a child weighing half her one hundred and twenty pounds. The other thing that left her in a stunned daze was the undeniable fact that she had been on the verge of an orgasm when her assailant abruptly withdrew his face from her pussy. Now, having been thrown face down onto the bed, it was as if she had been unexpectedly doused by a bucket of cold water.

Thoughts of her husband flooded her consciousness, along with a sweeping sense of embarrassment and humiliation. But then she felt her ass being pulled into the air and felt a huge penis once again penetrate her pussy, a penis so thick that it triggered her g-spot, causing the flames within her to flare once again, turning the cold water of her humiliation quickly into steam.

She can feel the abdomen of her rapist pressing against the fingers of her bound hands as he slides his cock into her. He sends it but half way, where he pauses.

The camera beside the bed then records the fact that the man's cock remains stationary, that it is clearly the young woman's ass that rocks back and forth in rapid fire cycles that sends the penis in and out of her vagina like a piston working at high RPMs. The camera also picks up the guttural sounds that come from the woman's mouth as she grimaces and bites desperately into the terrycloth cinch in her mouth.

Kneeling at her raised rear and between her spread legs, the man does nothing but make sure his cock does not disengage from the beautiful young blonde's cunt while she fucks herself with it.

Her long fingernails scratch his belly below the naval with each back and forth gyration of her hot, young body. While watching intently the way his thick manhood disappears into her, then reappears, then disappears again, in cycle after rapid cycle, the man uses his forearm to wipe the considerable amount of pussy juice—mixed with his own sperm—from his face. The camera captures this, plus the profile of the young woman's face as she stares at the headboard of the bed in wide eyed disbelief as orgasm reverberates in her loins and rocks her body.

Muffled sounds from her mouth struggle to emerge from her gag, but are picked up by the camera's sensitive microphone that has captured every audible noise made in the room since it was first turned on. Gradually, the young woman's corporal spasms, as well as her whimpering cries, diminish in intensity until at last they have completely subsided and she is left spent and limp, face down on the bed.

Her rapist's cock is still planted deep within her, however, and now it is this cock that begins to move. Controlling her from the doggie position, the man gives the exhausted young woman several deep penetrating fuck thrusts, each stroke causing her to give off soft grunts as if she were being punched in the stomach. Indeed, on inward strokes his cock goes so far inside her that it must seem to her as if it is in her stomach.

On each inward thrust, the tips of the fingers of her bound hands continue to graze and scratch against his belly. Watching how her fingers twitch, the man again notices her wedding band again, and now encircles the ring between his thumb and forefinger as he fucks her, twisting the ring around and around on her finger.

"Is your husband a jealous man?" he asks, his voice husky with lust. "Will he mind that I'm fucking his wife?" The man is rewarded with a sob as the young woman raises her head and shakes it violently, and then lets it fall back to the mattress, coming to rest now on her other cheek, her disheveled blonde hair cascading about her. Pausing with his dick buried deep inside his blonde victim, the man uses both hands to spread her ass cheeks, and in so doing exposes a round, puckered, pink asshole.

Keeping her buttocks spread with the fingers of one hand, his other hand reaches for the tube of K-Y Jelly left handy on the bed. Coating these fingers with the clear lubricant, he then pushes his middle finger into her rectum.

The young woman squirms in protest at this latest indignity and groans something into her gag. The groan gains intensity when she feels a second finger penetrating her sphincter. Her lovely, ripe ass wiggles in the air in faint dissent against this latest violation, movements that her rapist relishes, as it feels as if she is fucking him back again. With his two fingers, he reams her asshole, stretching it, massaging it, preparing it for something even bigger than his two fingers.

"No…no…no!" Over and over comes this muffled word from the physically and emotionally spent young woman. Through the thin membranes of her anal wall, her rapist's fingers can feel his thick cock going in and out of her vagina—there is such a minute distance between the two canals!

After a long while of this, the man at last slowly withdraws his pole-like penis from the young woman's cunt and brings the tip of it to her other opening just a tiny inch away. This is the opening where his fingers have been preparing her as best they can, though there is really nothing that can thoroughly prepare a woman for receiving a man's cock in her ass. Feeling that he has withdrawn his penis from her cunt, but that he still has his fingers in her ass, the young blonde looks around warily—and wearily—to see what is happening, and finds out of the corner of her eye that her attacker is applying more K-Y Jelly to his rigid manhood.

She then feels him pull his two fingers from her rectum, and before the rapidly closing lips of her brownish red sphincter can come totally together, the tip of his penis noses its way inside. The young woman gasps with the realization of what is about to happen to her. "Oh, god, no!" she cries. "Not this! Please, god, no!" The idea of taking a penis anally has always appalled her.

She broke off with a boyfriend shortly after college when he dared to merely hint of the possibility. Her husband mentioned his interest in it once, and she didn't speak to him for a three days. Now, face down on a hotel bed, she knows it is not she who will decide if she is at last sodomized.

She feels herself being grasped by the swell of her hips by the powerful hands of a mad rapist intent on controlling the gyrations of her protesting ass so that he can penetrate it. "No, not this!" she cries. Her twists and wiggles are successful is expelling the tip of the penis from her asshole, and her lower body plops down onto the mattress.

At this stage of the game, her concern at being sodomized has less to do with religion or hygiene or moral propriety, and more to do when plain old physics: she has intimate knowledge of the size of his penis and fears that her asshole is not nearly big enough to take it.

She fears it will rip her apart. Her resistance infuriates her attacker who then sits on the edge of the bed and pulls the young woman's body face down across his lap as if she weighed nothing. He shoves her manacled hands away from her ass and viciously spanks her bare bottom five, six, seven times, the sounds of the palms of his hands slapping against the soft skin of her naked butt reverberating around the walls of the hotel room and into the microphone of the video camera.

The woman's legs kick like those of a child being spanked, and indeed she is crying like a baby. After yet a few more spanks to her quickly reddening ass, her rapist rolls the young woman off his lap, pushes her onto her tummy again and impatiently lifts her ass once again into the air. The skin of her tender derriere is a glowing crimson. Again he stretches apart her rectum with his fingers. Again two fingers violate her anus. Again she is reamed. Again the head of his penis is at her anal opening.

"It won't fit!" she sobs. "Shut up!" she is told as his fingers again spread her buttocks. Her body is shaking as she weeps, but not so much that he is unable to again push aside the puckered lips of her anal opening with the head of his horse-sized cock.

Being thoroughly lubricated with K-Y Jelly, his dick forces its way in between the tight ring of her sphincter and slides two inches into her anus. The young blonde shrieks, grimaces, and bites hard into the terrycloth as air in her rectum is painfully compressed into her bowels.

"Relax!" he commands her. "Relax and it won't hurt!" "Yes it will," she whimpers, but her body, despite her uncontrollable shaking, is more submissive after her spanking. "Please don't do this.…" The man responds by pushing his cock one more inch into her, further compressing the air in her tight canal. She screams into her gag at the pain. The man pauses. The tightness of her anus around the first three inches of his swollen cock, together with the trembling of her body, is enough to make him cum immediately if he does not control himself.

He is intent on making this moment last. "Please," his victim whines through her gag. "Take it out! You're going to kill me!" "Shut up, bitch!" she is told. "Take a deep breath." She surprises him by doing just that, and when she exhales, he pushes forward and sends two more inches into her. Her eyes shut tightly in a grimace and her mouth opens wide, but no sound comes out this time.

It is instead a silent scream. She is given one more inch, and more air is pushed the wrong way inside her guts. "It hurts!" she gasps, her words intelligible despite the terrycloth conch in her mouth. She has the sensation of taking the biggest shit in her life.

Using the four inches that he has given her, her rapist now butt fucks her with slow, in-and-out motions, his inward thrusts never going deeper than those four inches. There is less pain for his victim now that most of the air has been dispersed into other parts of her anatomy, but the feeling of having her anus fucked is overwhelming.

She has never experienced this before—her asshole being extended by an object that goes in and out but never goes away, keeping her rectum stretched wide open.

On his outward strokes she feels like she is shitting. When he pushes inward, it is as if her innards have been stuffed into a trash compactor. She buries her face in the mattress and weeps helplessly. Soon she knows what it is like to have a full six inches of cock shoved up her ass.

She calls god's name. God does not answer. The cock goes deeper into her still. How long is it!? After minutes of this, the man tires of holding the woman's ass in the air while fucking her.

Although her knees are planted on the mattress, her body has the tendency to sag under his relentless pounding of her ass unless he holds her up, keeping her asshole at an ideal angle for receiving his cock.

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He now allows her body to slink downward onto the mattress with his own body glued to her, keeping his cock firmly impaled within her rectum, making sure he does not become disengaged. With the woman now flat on her stomach, her rapist pulls the terrycloth cinch from her mouth and from around her head and pushes it down to around her neck.

Supporting himself above his face-down victim with hands planted on either side of her body and his elbows locked straight, he now enters into a slow, methodical fucking rhythm as he studies the woman's long, sleek back, from her neck down to where the swell of her fine, round ass curves upward. He has always felt that a sexy woman's back is the most underrated part of her body.

The man now lowers himself onto that back and increases the speed and intensity of his strokes into the hole between her two curvaceous butt cheeks. The woman's arms, handcuffed behind her back, are crushed by his weight on top of her. Her fingers feel the muscles of the man's lower abs with each inward thrust.

The sensation of having a thick cock up her ass is blowing her mind. As he pulls back, it feels not only as if she is shitting, but that he is sucking her entire intestines out of her. On his inward thrusts, the sense of her body being totally and thoroughly possessed is more overwhelmingly humiliating for her than the fact that her rapist had recently brought her to orgasm.

The man now forces his hands underneath the woman's body and finds her breasts that are being smashed into the mattress. He cups both breasts in his hands and squeezes them firmly, pinching her nipples between thumbs and forefingers as the piston that is his cock ravishes the cylinder of her rectum.

The camera videoing the action on the bed cannot see the mixture of K-Y Jelly and rectal blood that glistens on the hard piston on each outward stroke before plunging back inside. A long, unending guttural sound of an animal in pain emanates from the woman's throat, only to be buried in the mattress.

The man now slows his pace and, with this, the woman's moans and groans slow, as well. While being fucked hard, she was having difficulty finding moments to breathe—she had to time careful, quick intakes of air to correspond with the out strokes of her rapist's cock, because his inward thrusts would literally knock the wind out of her. Now she is able to breathe a little better through her open mouth in spite of the crushing weight on top of her.

He is maintaining his deep penetration, but is fucking her almost gently now. With his hands squeezing her tits, his mouth bites into the side of her neck and sucks on her, vampire-like, until a bright crimson mark is left there, and when he is done his mouth moves to the other side of her neck where he brands her with a similar mark. All told now, the young woman has luminous red hickeys in symmetrical fashion on both ass cheeks, both breasts, and both sides of her neck. He orders her to speak to him.

He orders her to tell him that she is his bitch. She does not respond at first, prompting her attacker to take his hands from her breasts and take hold of the terrycloth belt now around her neck. He pulls upward on the ends of the belt, lifting the young woman's head, exposing the and making vulnerable the long curve of her throat which that is encircled by the belt.

Patiently, he repeats his words. "Tell me you're my bitch!" Understanding by now that she has no options with this rapist, the young woman attempts to comply, but it is difficult for her to speak, given her emotional state, plus the fact that her head is pulled sharply back and the man's weight on top of her is pressing her into the mattress. The cinch is tight around her vocal cords. "I'm your bitch!" she manages to gasp.

Her voice is but a hoarse, fearful whisper uttered almost unintelligibly. But her attacker's hands are also at her throat and he feels her vocal cords twitching against his fingers, and he is pleased. He whispers into her ear that she is a good girl. He also tells her to keep saying it. For emphasis, he tightens the belt around her neck. "I'm your bitch!" she whimpers again.

She feels the belt around her throat relax slightly, but also feels a renewed intensity with which her rapist sodomizes her. She is silent for a while, grimacing at the feel of the man's cock seemingly ripping her bowls open.

When she feels the cinch tightening around her neck once again, she doesn't have to be told. "I'm your bitch," she cries softly. "I'm your bitch. I'm your bitch. I'm your bitch&hellip." Over and over she whispers this while her ass is mercilessly fucked. Her rapist at last pushes her head back down, pressing her face into the mattress, and settles into a slower, almost leisurely fucking rhythm with her. She is able to twist her head around so that her mouth is free of the mattress and she can breathe.

With her nostrils completely plugged by snot and blood, her gaping mouth is her only lifeline. Breathing is the only thing she tries to think about now, as she tries desperately to place her mind somewhere else, to relegate to some corner of her psyche the fact that she is being brutally sodomized by a perverted attacker.

This proves impossible, however. True, he is no longer compelling her to speak, and is no longer crushing her with his force—in fact, the manner in which he is fucking her now is actually rather gentle. But the size and thickness of his cock and the way it feels going in and out of her rectum cannot be disregarded.

But she is able to breathe now and can at least be thankful for that. His hands are now around her arms, squeezing her well-toned biceps. As his well lubricated cock continues to ravish her, the young woman begins to feel slow warmth overtaking her. She shuts her eyes as this sensation creeps upward through her body and down her legs.

It is a heat being generated from the churning action within her rectum and it is filtering into the entirety of her bowels. The heat also comes to her externally from burning buttocks that have been spanked raw and that now, with each inward thrust received from her rapist, are spanked again by the groin area of his body. But somehow it is no longer a painful heat. Indeed, the rather methodical way in which she is being butt fucked now—almost leisurely, even—by a phallus slick with lubricate and also with her own blood, is having somewhat of an hypnotic effect on her.

Her body at last relaxes as her rapist had earlier instructed her. Her eyes are shut and she moans softly through parted lips as she feels this warmth and concentrates on it. She finds that focusing on the heat itself, and the way in which it is enveloping her, helps her take her mind off the cause for the heat: the fact that she is being brutally raped. The warmth is now felt in her toes and in her neck and face.

However, there is one particular spot on her body where the heat is especially acute. This is a spot quite anatomically close to her rectum. So close, in fact, that the penis inside her asshole comes so very close to rubbing against it through the walls of her rectum and vagina. In her attempted escape to la-la land, it actually might be good if his cock could rub against it.

It is so close…yet not quite close enough! The young woman finds that by wiggling her ass just a little, it becomes a little closer. Still not quite close enough, though! She moans. If only her hands were free! If her hands were free, her own fingers could dance where she needs to be touched and the heat there would increase and feel so much better still!

But her hands are cuffed behind her back. She is reminded of this when she instinctively tries to pull her hands apart and the handcuffs dig painfully into the already bruised skin of her wrists. She moans again. It is frustrating for her. The only thing she can do is wiggle her ass against the warmth, and this helps, so she wiggles it some more, her eyes tightly shut and her mouth gaping wide.

The ass that makes men in the street turn and stare as she passes is now squirming wildly with an engorged penis buried deep within it. Her rapist ceases his strokes, pausing with only half his cock inside the young woman's rectum. His abdomen is raised now, supported by his arms, and he stares down at his victim, marveling at what he sees and feels. She once again is trying to fuck him back! It is her own motions that are now causing his dick to at once disappear into her ass, and then come sliding slowing out, over and over as she gyrates beneath him.

"Don't stop!" The young woman is panting like a dog and barely manages to gasp these two words. "Beg me!" the man orders her. Her ass quits its wiggling and she gasps when she realizes what she has just said. She quickly comes to her senses. "No, don't do this!" she cries. "You're hurting me!" He answers by plunging his cock as deep into her as nature allows. The young woman groans as if hit in the stomach.

He withdraws and plunges inward again unmercifully. "Yes!" she cries. Humiliation and recriminations can come later—she will hate herself in the morning—but at this moment she is slave to the heat deep within her loins that she has never experienced before. She has never been fucked like this. Her butt moves again, twisting upward against the man on top of her, sodomizing her. "Beg me!" she is told. "Don't stop!" "Stop what?" She is moaning, unable to speak.

She is concentrating on making the phallus inside her ass touch her where she needs to be touched, and her ass twists and gyrates in this effort. "Stop what, you little bitch?" he repeats, his words hissing. He has dropped his body back down upon her and is fucking her hard. "This!" she cries. "Tell me what I'm doing, you god damn slut!" "You're fucking me!" she whimpers. "Fucking you where?" His cock is ravishing her anal canal with renewed vigor.

More of her blood is coating his cock. "My ass!" she gasps. "You're fucking my ass&hellip." "Beg for it!" "Please…please fuck me…like this…please, god, please&hellip." Her voice trials of into unintelligible gibberish. The man shoves his left arm under the young woman's face-down body and his hand goes to the juncture of her thighs.

His fingers find her pussy and press against the clitoris. She responds rapidly by gyrating her pelvic area eagerly against his hand. She had desperately wanted to touch herself here with her own fingers, but her hands were bound. Now, his finger is there, and she is rubbing her pussy against it while being fucked in the ass. Her head lifts and flops back and forth on the mattress and curse words that she rarely speaks come tumbling gutturally from her throat.

"Oh yes! Oh fuck yes! Oh my God yes!" "Are you my bitch?" "Yes! I'm your bitch!" she cries. He is now using two fingers that the young woman's pussy greedily gyrates against. Her rapist's dick is deep inside her when orgasm floods over her and she squeals like a tortured squirrel.

The man must take the hand that is not rubbing her cunt and slap it over her mouth because the walls of this hotel room are not that thick. Bucking and gyrating, the beautiful young blonde comes like a machine gun.

The man on top of her rides her rearing body like a rodeo bull. It is all he can do to keep his dick buried inside her as she bucks. At last she is done and her spent body goes limp beneath him, becoming putty on the end of his blood-coated cock. Shame and embarrassment immediately overtake her as the euphoria of her orgasm recedes and she her rapist continues to fuck her in the ass. She buries her face in the mattress to cry.

The man's arms are beneath her body now, his hands pulling her shoulders up and into him, and he is again biting the sides of her neck. Sweat from both their bodies mingles freely and soaks the bed sheets. The man speeds his in-and-out strokes and his balls harden. Shouting "yes" like a triumphant warrior, he plants his cock into the deepest recesses of the young woman's rectum and shoots his second wad of the evening into her body. The knowledge that he is doing this causes the young lady to cry out with repugnance and remorse.

The knowledge that he is squirting sperm into her ass makes her feel like a public toilet, nothing but a vessel into which a man, against her will, expends bodily fluids into her. Unpityingly, her rapist continues fucking her hard for a full minute after he has ejaculated, churning his sperm and her rectal blood and fecal material into a frothy cocktail, until he collapses in exhaustion on top of his equally exhausted victim.

XXXXX An hour later, the young woman, in the bathroom of her hotel room, turns on the shower. After the water becomes hot, she steps into the tub shower and lets the cleansing water wash over her. She leans against the tile wall of the shower. Her body slowly slides downward against the wall until she comes to a rest on her side in the tub.

Lying curled there, she cries for fifteen minutes as the hot water from the shower head rains down on her body. XXXXX She will never forget the sensation that she felt when her rapist, finished with her at last, withdrew his penis from her ass and climbed off her. It had seemed that he had used a telephone pole on her, and her entire rectum was on fire.

She had continued lying face down on the bed, motionless, praying that he was at last finished with her and would leave now and not further hurt her when he did. She was aware that he was dressing, but dared not look at him. Instead, she turned her head the other way and stared toward the closed window curtains.

The man, fully dressed now, took the camera off the tripod. Keeping the camera on, he walked around the bed, pointing it at the naked young woman he had just raped as she laid face down, her arms still handcuffed behind her. "I just fucked this bitch seven ways from Sunday." The young woman heard the man say this for the camera, and knew that the infernal camera's lens was drinking in the image of her naked body. The man was silent then.

She did not know it, but he was continuing to film her from different angles. Then, holding the camera in one hand, his other hand reached out and rolled the young woman onto her back. She did not resist this, nor did this resist when he pulled her thighs apart for the camera. With her head flopped to one side, she appeared as lifeless as road kill.

He zoomed in to the pussy between her spread thighs. "You had this," he spoke for the camera. "And the bitch came when I fucked her. Didn't you, sweetie?" The young blonde ignored him until she felt him pulling on one end of the terrycloth cinch that still encircled her neck. She opened her eyes and saw that he was holding the camera with one hand while the fingers of his other hand caressed her throat.

She knew what that meant, so when he repeated his question, she nodded. When he repeated the question a second time, she spoke softly, her voice cracking.

"Yes. I came." "I can't hear you." "I came." This was said louder, and the camera's microphone readily picked it up. "Sentences, sweetie." His fingers tightened around her throat. "Speak to me in sentences!" "I…" she was crying again.

"I came… when you… when you fucked me…" Satisfied, her rapist at last turned the camera off and stored it and the tripod in the black bag. He then rolled the young woman back onto her stomach. Presently, she felt his hands at her wrists. His touch sent repulsion up her spine, but she managed to remain unresponsive. He was unlocking the handcuffs that had keep her arms behind her back for—how long had it been?

She had no idea. When free of the cuffs, her arms plopped lifelessly to the sides of her body and remained there. She was unable to move them even had she wanted. She then tensed, however, when yet again feeling the man's weight on the bed beside her.

He leaned over her and whispered into her ear. "I'm letting you walk out of here, sweetie. I have your name and address. If you go to cops on this, you will live to regret it. Do you fucking understand me?" He shook her shoulder roughly as he said this. The young blonde, her face buried in the mattress, nodded vigorously.

"Tell me you understand!" he commanded. "I understand!" she cried. The man stood from the bed. "Not only are you a great piece of ass," he said, "but you're a smart girl." Before heading toward the door, the man scooped up the young woman's ruined bra, panties and blouse.

"You won't mind, will you," he asked, "if I take these as souvenirs of our time together? I don't think you can use them again, anyway. They're a little worse for wear." The next thing the young blonde heard was the door to the hotel room opening and then close.

The room was then suddenly still. Did she dare hope that he was gone? Did she dare move? For a long time she did not move, remaining face down on the bed, her arms by her sides, her naked and bruised body shaking uncontrollably.

She was glad that she was alive. She cried. Eventually, the tears stopped. She rolled to her side, and then slowly sat up in bed, grimacing at the pain felt in multiple regions of her body. Wearily, she surveyed the mess that was her bed. There was literally blood, sweat and tears all over on the disheveled sheets.

Not to mention urine, snot, and vomit. And semen, of course. Loads of semen. She could feel what seemed like a quart of the stuff drip from her vagina and her rectum as she sat upright. With that, the fear of pregnancy again struck her. She would have to run to a drug store for the morning after pill. But she would have to ask the pharmacist if the pill could harm an already established fetus.

But then, the pharmacist would ask why she wanted the morning after pill if she thought it possible that she was already pregnant! And then the specter of STD flooded over her. She shuddered.

It was all too confusing. She could not think straight. She shook her head numbly and glanced once again about her. She idly thought of what the maid was going to think when she saw the condition of the bed. Then then she stood and walked—stumbling mostly—to the bathroom and the shower. She needed a shower very badly. XXXXX It was the longest shower she had ever taken. After lying in the tub for fifteen minutes with the water spraying her body, she at last stood and began cleaning herself as thoroughly as she could, the water continuing to pour over her.

She was aghast at the amount of semen dripping from her vagina. She wished desperately that she had a skinny brush of some sort that she could insert in her vagina to completely douche herself. Lacking such a brush, she inserted her fingers instead in an attempt to cleanse herself of her rapist. She sat on the edge of the tub with her legs spread to do this.

Unfortunately, her fingers could not go into her as deeply as the man's penis had, but she gave it the effort anyway.until it began to feel like masturbation. When she became aware of a certain tingling sensation in response to the action of her fingers, remembrance flooded over her of the huge penis that had been up her ass.

She gasped and withdrew her fingers from her pussy. I did not come! she assured herself. He made me say it, but I didn't! This denial would remain with her forever. At last, when the water was beginning to lose temperature, the young woman turned the shower off. Before reaching for a towel, she remained standing under the showerhead for a long while with her head bowed, drops of water dripping off her. She now stands naked before the mirror of the bathroom, staring woefully at her image, taking inventory of her wounds.

Her face is swollen. She has two black eyes, a swollen lip, and a cut running from the corner of her mouth. Lower, she sees bite marks and hickeys on the sides of her neck. Lower still, there are bite marks and hickeys on the bottom hemispheres of both breasts. Both wrists have huge, bright red cuts and welts from the handcuffs that she continually and futilely struggled against. Turning around, the milky white skin of both buttocks can be seen to have bright crimson patches where she had been viciously spanked.

It looks as if she had been badly sunburned. Almost invisible against the reddened skin are the hickeys that had been applied to each of her soft, round buttocks. The deepest marks left on her by her rapist are not visible in the mirror.

They are what she feels inside her vagina and, especially, her rectum. Both of these bodily cavities feel as if they have been reamed by the large end of a baseball bat. The wedding for her friend is in a few hours. She cannot miss it. Make-up and clothing will cover some of the external wounds, though she will probably have to concoct a story about stumbling and falling in the shower.

The bride may not want her to be in the wedding photos, the way her face looks. Feeling her tender butt, she knows that she will have to remember to sit very carefully at the reception—or not sit at all. She continues to stare forlornly at her image in the mirror. When she recalls the things he made her say, her face blushes a deep crimson. All of a sudden, she feels yet more semen drip from her pussy and trickle down her thigh.

She is shocked by this. She thought she had thoroughly douched herself in the shower! As she stares at the semen, she knows what she should do. She should put a robe on and go immediately to the nearest hospital and have a rape kit taken. The hospital would call the police for her. There is still enough of her rapist's DNA inside her to have the bastard arrested, convicted, and locked away.

If she does not do this, other innocent women will surely be raped. Yes, this is what she should do. She almost takes a step toward the bathroom door. But then she recalls the words that her rapist had whispered in her ear. Her name. Her address. His threats if she went to the police. She thinks again how knowledge of her rape would devastate her husband.

Her short lived resolve to do the right thing quickly melts. She steps back into the tub and turns on the shower again. No one will ever know about this. No one. Except her. And him, of course. Author: Mario Caliente