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Old 28th August 2003, 22:21   #1
dlinkwit27
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After the bar (Warning: R-Rated Material NOT for younger readers)

He zipped up his pants and turned off the TV. As the naked couple faded away he took a final sip from his beer can and threw it against the wall. He did not want to be a mere spectator tonight. He wanted to be a participant. That was why he went to the bar. As he stood up to stumble toward his bed, he looks at the pile of cans that has accumulated in the corner over the course of the night. That is why he bought her so many drinks. Her. There mere thought brought his drunken fury to a climax. She had to have wanted it too. The way she dressed, how she batted her eyes at him. The little whore. You don't just let a guy buy you drink after drink if you don't plan on returning the favour. Apparently she thought it was OK. After he walked her home she had merely said goodnight and gave him a hug. A hug! Of all the low down dirty things to do to him. This bitch had the audacity to merely give him a hug. It came to him. She fed him the bullshit excuse that she had an early meeting at her work. A meeting. A likely excuse. Who works on a Saturday? Not he. He turned to the VCR to put the tape away. He was tired of being a spectator. Ever since the divorce all he had ever been was a spectator. An observer. No more. Tonight, he would be a participant. He took his keys off of the counter, stumbled down the three flights of stairs to the parking garage below his apartment building. After a few minutes of stumbling around he found his car, got in, and drove. He veered left and right over the road until he found her house. He got out of the car and walked up to the door.


The first ring only made her turn over. The second ring of her doorbell made her sit-up in her bed. She looked at the time. 4:36 am. She didn't have to be at work for another hour and a half. Why was she up? Her alarm was set for 6. The third ring of the doorbell answered her question. her head was pounding as the effects of the night had not yet worn off. Who would be coming over at this hour? Why? She threw on a oversized long-sleeve t-shirt she liked to sleep in when it was cool enough, and went to the door.

He heard her footsteps. That's right you bitch. You dirty little whore. You wanted this, and you knew it. You and your little mini-skirt, your excessive amount of makeup. You knew that this was coming from the time when you accepted the first drink I bought you. You planned on this when you told your friends that you would be fine and that they could leave and go home. You know you want this. I know you want this. I know I want this.

As she opened the door he lunged at her. She did not have any time to react as his large hand clamped over her mouth to stifle her scream. What was he doing here? Did I not tell him that I had work. Why is he doing this to me? I said I would call him when I was done with my meeting! No! Where is he taking me? Ouch! He is hurting me!

He looked around and saw her open bedroom door. As he lifted her he felt her upper thigh and realized that she had no underwear on. Her skin was soft against his hand. It took little effort to lift her small, curvaceous body up onto his shoulder. The effort came with keeping her still while still covering her mouth. He laid her down on her bed, and kicked her miniskirt up onto the bed. While he straddled her, he pinned her arms down with his knees and with his free hand and teeth tore the fabric. It took only a second for him to release his hand from her mouth, and when she tried to scream it was only too easy to gag her with the fabric. He easily lifted her head and tied the gag securely in place. Now he was free to explore this woman with both hands as he saw fit. "Don't struggle, it will only make this harder. Why are you crying? You know you wanted this you little whore. If I seen you walking to the club in your little outfit I would have thought you were a prostitute. I would have hired you. You knew how you looked, you knew this would happen. Don't try to fight it."

Her hair was pulled as the knot was tied, and it was sheer bad luck that her hair was tangled in the knot in such a way that no matter which was she nudged it by rubbing her head against the mattress, it resulted in agonizing pain as her hair was pulled from her scalp. Not being able to struggle, all she could do was think. What had made this mange chance from the seeming gently giant she had met in the bar? Had they not had a good time? Why did he think that they were meant to sleep together? Did he not notice that all the other girls wore skirts just as short? Wore tops that showed just as much cleavage? Why her? As she felt his large hands grow first her stomach, then her breasts, she was ashamed that she was starting to become aroused. Despite her terror, she could feel the excitement in her body rise.

Her skin felt even softer than he had imagined on his car ride over. Milky white, it seemed to glow in the single light of the hallway outside the still open bedroom door. Her breasts were firm and at the same time, soft and giving. Her ass was so smooth, so round. He could not bear to wait any longer.

She heard a zipper. She looked up and saw that his pants were down. NO! She felt him inside her. She tried her hardest to resist, but he was so much stronger than her. She hates the feeling. Any trace of passion that she had felt rushed quickly from her body as she becomes more and more violated. She tried to scream, but it as only a muffled gasp. The more she tried to squirm away the faster he moved. She was helpless. As the reality sinks in, she gives up, and lest him have his way. The only thing she can do is cry, and wait for it to be over. Wait for him to finish.

"I'd almost forgotten how good this feels!" he thought to himself. He could not tell which felt better. The feeling that he got from penetrating this woman, or the fact that he was in complete control. She could not leave him like his wife. She could not say 'not now honey, I have a headache' or 'Maybe tomorrow when I am not so tired.' He got what he wanted when he wanted it. He loves being in control. He felt the pressure build in him. He is almost saddened knowing that this wonderful experience is almost over.

She heard him moan, then felt him lie on top of her, exhausted. She was crying even harder now. She felt him get up, heard a zipper, and then felt all the pressure that was on her arms release. He was letting her go. "Is this it? Has he had his way with me and is now going to kill me?" He stood up and looked at her. He sat next to her head, put one hand back over her mouth, and with the other removed the gag with such ease that it made her feel even more worthless that she could not get it off herself. With his hand still covering her mouth, he turns her head toward the clock, which reads 5:58.

"Thank you," he says. "That was wonderful. Feel free to tell whomever you want what happened. My friends as well as yours saw you leave with me at the bar. Nobody will believe you if you tell them that you were not consenting." He chuckled as he admired himself for his genius. Not only had he gotten what he wanted, but he would get away with it to.

The alarm clock began to buzz as he walked out the door. She could not believe what just happened. He was right, she couldn't tell anyone what happened. Nobody would believe her, and besides. She needs to get cleaned up. She needs to be at work soon.
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Old 29th August 2003, 03:56   #2
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draft version 2
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He zips up his pants and turns off the TV. As the naked couple fades away he takes a final sip from his beer can and thrws it against the wall. He does not want to be a mere spectator tonight. He wants to be a participant. That was why he went to the bar. As he stands up to stumble toward his bed, he looks at the pile of cans that has accumulated in the corner over the course of the night. That is why he bought her so many drinks. Her. There mere thought brings his liquor-enhanced fury to a climax. “She had to have wanted it too. The way she dressed. The little whore. You don't just let a guy buy you drink after drink if you don't plan on returning the favour.” He thinks to himself as he stars at the beer cans. “Apparently she she thinks favours don’t need repaying.” After he walked her home she had merely said goodnight and gave him a hug. “A hug! Of all the sluts in the bar I pick the cheap hug-whore!” He turns to the VCR to put the tape away. He is tired of being a spectator. Ever since the divorce all he had ever been was a spectator. An observer. No more. Tonight, he would be a participant. He takes his keys off of the counter, stumbles down the three flights of stairs to the parking garage below his apartment building. After a few minutes of stumbling around he finds his car, get in, and drives. He veers left and right over the road until he finds her house. He gets out of the car and walks up to the door.

The first ring only makes her turn over in her twin bed. The second ring of the doorbell is enough to make her sit-up in bed. She looks at the time. 3:36 am. She doesn’t have to be at work for another few hours. “Why am I awake?” She thinks as she begins to head towards the bathroom, her head still pounding from the night’s festivities. “I never set my alarm for earlier than six.” The third ring of the doorbell answers her question. She stops at the bathroom door. “Why would be coming over at this hour? Why?” She picks up the wrinkled shirt off of the spot on the floor where she had thrown it before she fell into her slumber. With nothing more than this shirt and a pair of white cotton panties, she proceeds to the door to see who was calling at this early hour.

He hears her footsteps. He begins to mumble under his breath. “Come on baby. I’m ready for you. You know you wanted this, with your little mini-skirt. It’s time for us both to get what we wanted.” The door knob begins to turn, and before she has a chance to begin opening the door, he is moving.

As she opens the door he lunges at her. She has no time to react as his blundering body falls onto hers. As she tries to crawl away she feels his hand on her calf. She kicks to no avail with all her might as he tries to stand with his arm still extended, gasping her calf. He stumbles again, then manages to crawl up upon her.

“Quiet bitch!” he slurs as he places his hand over her mouth. “No yelling! I have a headache!” As he sits, straddling her body, he looks up and sees at the end of the hall the open bedroom door. With one hand still firmly clutching her mouth, he manages to, after many failed attempts of standing, drag her, still seated, to the bedroom. She kicks, tries to bite, tries to punch repeatedly at but the alcohol has made him oblivious. He drags her into the bedroom, and throws her onto the bed as he trips over the linens which had fallen to the floor as she rose to go the bathroom. The tries to run, but again he was able to grab her and again mute her with his hand. He again straddles her, pinning her arms to her sides with his legs. Exhausted, he sits like this for a few minuets while he regains his breath. As he attempts to wipe the sweat from his brow, she begins to scream again. Almost instantaneously he brings his hand back down to her mouth. “Why won’t you stay quiet? I said I have a headache!” He looks up and sees the pillow, and its white-flowered casing. With his free hand he shakes the pillow out of the case. He lays the case across her mouth, removes his hand, and stuffs her mouth with the middle of the case before she can begin to scream again. He quickly grabs the ends and after many trials, is able to produce a structure which resembles a knot near the back of her head.

She tries to scream, but can not make a noise louder than a sigh due to the crude gag he has fashioned. She tries rubbing her head against the bed to try to slip the gag off, but it will not budge. She tries to push it out with her tongue, but this only seems to move the casing closer to her throat. Her hands begin to ache as the blood supply is cut off due to the weight of the unbalanced the man on her arms. Every muscle burns with lactic acid as she tries to squirm free. Suddenly she feels a new pressure against her stomach. She feels his hand move across her stomach, to the small of her back, and down underneath her panties. She tries to struggle more, but this results only in her pelvis being raised enough off the bed that he is able to slip her panties off and down to her knees. His hands are rough against her smooth skin, and his hands begin their journey towards the torso again. Her body completely exhausted, she has no choice but to watch as his hands clumsily lift her shirt over her B-cup breasts.

Her skin feels even softer than he had imagined it would on his car ride over. Milky white, it seems to glow in the single light of the hallway outside the still open bedroom door. Her breasts are firm and at the same time, soft and giving. “I haven’t felt a woman’s skin since my bitch wife left me” he says to nobody in particular. “Stupid bitch! She said I had a problem. Well it was her who had the problem!” His ramblings become less and less intelligible as he continues his groping of her. “It’s been so long…”

She hears a zipper. She looked up and sees his pants now around his knees. “NO!” With a sudden burst of adrenaline she begins to twitch again, with more ferocity then ever before. Again, it is no use. His massive body and intoxicated strength hold her down as if she is not moving at all. She feels him inside her. She tries her hardest to resist, she hates the feeling. She tries again to scream, but again she can only produce muffled excuses for yells. The more she tries to squirm away the faster he moves. She stoppes trying. “I am helpless.” She lets herself go limp, and she begins to cry. Mucus drips down from her nose, her eyes itch with tears that go un-wiped, she cries.

"I've almost forgotten how good this feels!" he says again to nobody. He cannot tell which feels better; the feeling that he is getting from penetrating this woman, or the fact that he is in complete control. She can not leave him like his wife. She can’t say 'not now honey, I have a headache' or 'maybe tomorrow when I am not so tired.' He is getting what he wans when he wants it. He loves being in control. He feels the pressure build in him. He is almost saddened knowing that this wonderful experience is almost over.

She hears him moan, then feels him lie on top of her, exhausted. She is crying even harder now, her eyes clenched shut. She feels him get up, hears a zipper, and then felt all the pressure that was on her arms release. He was letting her go. "Is this it? Has he had his way with me and is now going to kill me?" He stood up and looks at her. “There! Now we are even you dumb whore.” He turns his back on her and heads toward the front door, stumbling as he goes, using the wall again for support. “Next time a man buys you drinks, you better remember to pay him back like a good little slut.” He opens the door, and walks to the driveway, leaving the door ajar.

She hears a car start, then tires squeal as he speeds down the street. Using her bathroom mirror to decipher the mess of a knot that he made, she frees herself. As she removes the knot, the alarm clock began to buzz. She has exactly one hour to get to work.
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