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Author Topic: Rape Conversation  (Read 341 times)

Offline CerealRapist

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Rape Conversation
« on: July 11, 2019, 08:47:09 PM »
I used the pointing and middle fingers of my right hand to gently pull her pretty face in my direction.  She was seated next to me…on my left.  She was uncomfortable; the rope securing her arms painfully behind her back and the rope binding her legs tightly at the ankles, knees and thighs had to hurt like hell.  But she looked just fine in the sun dress she’d donned this morning (prior to even realizing I existed) and the high heels that showcased those tightly bound legs.  She was about my age…that is to say, in her early fifties.  So I cupped her chin with the pointing and middle fingers of my right hand and drew her gaze to mine. 

“Have you ever been raped?”

She immediately began to cry again.  Not for the first time.  Certainly not for the last either.  She must have despised having my touch on her pretty face.  And my gaze along her tanned legs.  I sensed she truly regretted the allure of her breasts neath the fabric of that sun dress.  The very dress she’d selected to show herself off in earlier in the day.  Before I became a fixture in her life.

“Did you ever whimper like a pig as a man cut away your clothing with a Bowie knife?”

She cringed.  Tried to look away.  But my fingers delicately centered upon the underside of her chin ‘told’ my captive she had to look.  Had to listen.  Had to endure the shame.  Had to let her imagination run wild as to what was going to happen over the next few hours.  With me.  Here.  In the basement.  She cringed…and I watched those fat tears brimming in her brown eyes until – one by one – they fell from her face and dampened the sheer material of her sun dress along her perfect breasts. 

“Ever imagine being strung up by your ankles high enough so that your mouth could be fucked?”

I undid the three buttons at the front of her garment and took in the inviting cleavage my guest possessed.  A female my own age was going to be SUCH a treat after just so many coeds belowstairs.  I held the whore’s face in place with my controlling fingers beneath her chin…and made damn sure she could see me staring at the contours of her breasts.  Breasts barely constrained by the delicate pink cups of her brassiere.  Beneath her sexy sun dress.  Then I whispered:

“Do you have any idea how painful anal sex can be made to be?”

She began to bawl.  Loudly.  Realizing the inevitable.  Accepting the eventual.  Here.  In my basement.  She howled with humiliation and fear as I held her face close to mine even as my hungry eyes beheld her half-naked breasts, her long legs and her tear-stained face.  She bawled.  Trembled.  Shook.  Then made the mistake of trying to beg.  For mercy.  She should have thought of that when she decided to put that sun dress upon her community body earlier this day. 

“SHUT UP!  Aren’t you frightened of the stainless steel items on my table?”

Stock still.  She went stock still – RIGID – sitting there next to me with her wrists bound up behind her and her beautiful legs half encased in hemp.  Not a muscle moved as I finally released her chin…only to manipulate her breasts free of her bra and dress.  Her nipples were rock hard.  Out of fear.  And she remained submissive as I leant over and began sucking on her tits.  She jumped when I loudly ordered her to display more prominently her filthy fucking legs despite the constricting ropes.  I went back to licking her breasts…seated right next to her…here…in my sex prison.  I could tell she was fearfully staring at the chrome-plated implements atop my Motivation Tray.  She was trembling.  Her breasts tasted like vanilla bean and lavender.

“Are you going to devote yourself wholeheartedly to my bed over the next several months bitch?”

She wilted.  Began to sob yet again.  I stopped sucking on her tits.  Ceased licking her breasts.  Instead I placed the middle and pointing fingers of my right hand beneath her chin as she wept.  As she trembled.  She was right next to me.  With her limbs bound and her spirit will nigh crushed.  I directed her gaze back, back, back into my eyes and took possession of her.  I held her face there for a long moment.  Listened to her sob.  Felt her tremble.  Watched her surrender.  Cynthia was mine.  Our conversation had nearly reached its bitter end.

“Pig……didn’t you realize there’d be punishment for wearing a dress like that in public?”

She screamed as I released her chin.  And my hand slid towards the Motivation Tray.
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