Come with me to the rape room

[Kaeben]

Hi all, usual caveats about this is just fantasy folks and all apply. This is the first story I ever posted online and this is the type of roleplay I can really get into. Now that this is my home for wicked discourse, here you go, hope you enjoy!

Part 1:

“Aren’t you just the unlucky one,” I say calmly, standing in front of you.

“Millions of women out there, going about their daily business. Just like you would’ve been. Yesterday, today, tomorrow and the rest, continuing their lives. Having a choice. Having freedom. But not you. You get to be one of the few who get taken. Who end up tied to a chair with me here. I decide now. I do what I want to you.” I lean in close. “And I’m going to rape you.”

I take in your lovely tear streaked face. Your watery eyes pleading with me for mercy. For some small mercy. “Let me go, please please don’t hurt me,” those eyes say. You’ll find no mercy with me. Your vulnerability only feeds my desire to take you. To hurt you in the most intimate of ways.

Tying you up was harder than I thought, what with you not cooperating and all. But I've got you now...tied you to a chair. Simple, but essential. Because you’d fight, rightfully so. I’ve no right to do this to you. To take you away from your life, your freedom. Your wrists: tied behind you to the posts of a wooden chair. A simple circle around each wrist, each tied fast to the seat back. You tug at them. Hard as you can. The sickening realization that you can’t get free. Can’t put your hands up to defend yourself.

Your legs. Pulled open just enough that you can’t close your thighs. Exposed. Your ankles tied to the back seat legs. Again you pull…trying to at least get some measure of coverage. You can’t. However you strain you can’t overcome your legs’ bonds.

Your mouth. You can’t talk. Can’t even close it. A ball gag has been forced in it. Keeping your jaw open. The basic dignity of being able to plead coherently taken from you. All words. All pleas. All begging turned into indistinguishable…and deliciously arousing…stifled feminine protests.
The room. No windows. A single light hangs from a string above. Probably a basement. You don’t really know. Its hard to see into the corners. You can’t see behind you. There’s a table in front of you. There are bad things on the table. Things that restrain. Things that penetrate. Things that pinch. And a bed to your right. There is one door. It locks on this side and unlocks from the other.

Your heart is pounding in your chest. “please don’t let this be happening. Please oh please god no don’t let this be happening.” You’ve been kidnapped by some kind of sex pervert…there’s really no doubt anymore. There are leather cuffs on all four bedposts. And a very bad man sitting in a chair across from you. He’s been rough with you already. You were shopping. You were walking to your car. A zap and your body collapsed…right into a man’s arms. Before you could get control of your body you were tied and gagged, in the back of a van. He picked you right up after you drove for hours. Over his shoulder. Your dress fell up, revealing your panties. He patted your ass as he carried you in. To this room.

That man is me. I am your kidnapper. Your abuser. Your rapist. It is time to start the fun.

I stand in front of you. You weep and stare at the floor. Cringing as I come closer. I take off my shirt. I unzip my jeans. I pull down my underwear. I stand before you naked. My cock standing straight and hard. You try not to look. I grab your hair and force your head up. You squeal and clench your eyes.

SLAP open hand SLAP back hand SLAP open hand. “Open your eyes bitch. Look at what’s going to be fucking you.” You open your tear streaked eyes and stare at the dick. Like you are told. The slaps really hurt. It isn’t the first dick you’ve seen. But it is the first you’ve seen from inches away, belonging to a man intent on hurting you sexually with it. And the last, and only, man you slept with was 2 years back now. He wasn’t,quite as, shall we say, aggressive about things.

“You are going to suck this, and suck it nice like you like it. And you are going to take all of it.” You cry…trying futilely to pull your head back as I force it forward…rubbing my dick in your tears. “Every. Fucking. Inch.” You shudder in fear and revulsion. You’ve given a BJ but don’t like the taste of cum. Always making the last boyfriend take it out. And never deepthroating it. Got kind of close once, but it made you gag so you stopped. After all, its your mouth. You have a choice what you do with your mouth and the rest of your body!

Not today. I use your body today.

“But first, I think its unfair that you still have clothes on.” I move behind you. I grab under your jaw and hold your head steady. You scream through your gag and try to express the simple word “no” around it. You can’t. I caress almost gently your shoulders…the top of your breasts that your thin tank top reveals. I slowly pull the thin spaghetti straps of your shirt off your shoulders. Then the straps of your bra. Your shoulders bare now.
I reach into your bra and squeeze your left breast. Gently at first. Then harder.

I feel your heart pounding beneath. You squeal. You beg incoherently. You cry. And I don’t stop. I whisper gruffly in your ear, “this is just the start bitch,” as I squeeze your defenseless tit. A quick, fierce pinch of your nipple as I remove my hand gives you a start. I enjoy the jump and your resumed futile tugging against your bonds. My cruel fondling leaves your left breast out of your bra and shirt.

I step away for a moment and am behind you quickly. You feel something cold on your neck. You stiffen, terrified. I move the tip of the blade slowly down your neck. To your chest. This releases a fresh round of sobs. Your breasts tremble deliciously in tune with your shivering fear. Your panic is intoxicating. I slide the dull part of the blade across the tops of your breasts…both the one exposed and the one still barely covered. The nipple of your exposed breast is hard. The skin around it is reddened from my marauding hand.

I slide the knife over to the straps. Cut. Cut. Your bra strap and shirt strap give easily. Sliding slowly to the other arm. You feel the same slight pull and sag of the straps as I do it again on the other side. I set the knife aside for now and reach to the sides of your tattered shirt…pulling it down, over your heaving with sobs breasts…down and crumpled at your waist against the top of your skirt.

I stare down at you for a moment from my commanding, abusive position. Disheveled. Your shirt pulled down. One breast inelegantly popped out of your bra cup. The other barely covered by the now strapless bra that wasn’t designed that way. You’ve been crying so long that your salty tears drip from your chin onto your beautiful chest. Some saliva I suppose too. Some trails between your breasts…some down the sides. Delicious.

You feel my fingers now at the center of your back. I love removing a woman’s bra. Especially an unwilling one. Each clasp slowly. Feeling the pull as your breasts tug it downward as each support gives way. Then finally as the back straps pull away when the last clasp is done…your breasts tugging it down. Now your femininity exposed. The thin, tearable fabric that men everywhere would tear away in a second if not for the confines of a civil society.

But I’m not civil. Since I can, I do. I cast the useless garmet on the floor. “You won’t be needing that anymore.” So vulnerable. I pull my chair up behind you. You can’t see what I’m doing but soon feel it. Running my hands up your arms. Over the soft skin of your neck. Your shoulders. Into your hair. I yank it, because I can. Down your tear streaked chest. Cupping your breasts. Groping you unselfconsciously, maliciously. You shake your body, trying to get my abusive hands off your sensitive breasts. It is useless. I squeeze them hard. I pull the nipples out as far as I can. I slap your tits, just to watch them shake. Just to hear you cry out. There are some bruises already where my cruel fingers clutch too hard. Your nipples sore from the abuse…hard as pebbles they are tugged and pinched nearly endlessly.

Again my mouth at your ear. “These are mine to play with.” Despair sets in. “Mine” I remind you. I’m hurting you. Dear god just please let me go running through your head on rapid replay. I ignore your moans and struggles. I grab your throat with one cruel hand while I torment your breasts with the other. I squeeze. You panic and struggle…drawing breath harder. I release…letting you breathe for a moment. Then squeeze again. “You’re mine little bitch.” I release again. Only to cut off your breath again with another squeeze. “Right?” You cry and struggle to turn your neck to draw more than the tiny bit of air I let you breathe. I squeeze your nipple viciously, lifting your breast up by the nipple only.

“With just these two fingers I can make you hurt this much and more.” You sob hopelessly. My hand still at your neck, but not squeezing…just a reminder I am there and in control. “So again I say…you are mine little bitch, right?” You feel something break inside your spirit as you nod your head…hoping it is what I want so I won’t hurt you anymore. “Good answer sweetie,” I say as I kiss you almost lovingly on the neck…releasing your tormented nipple for the moment, your breast returning to a more natural position.

Your wailing, gagged despair makes me even more aroused as I continuing doing whatever. I. want. I put my mouth on your delicious tense skin. A nibble on your shoulder. Your neck. The sideswell of your breasts. Now a bite. Not hard enough to break skin, but harder than any gentle lover would ever be. You jump each time and cry meekly, resigned now to my predatory abuse.

I let you be for a moment to wallow in your humiliation. Just long enough to move my chair around to sit directly in front of you. While you watch helplessly behind blurry eyes, I grip the bottom of the soft white skirt that - for now - rests modestly at your knees. Again I brandish the knife and your eyes go wide. Starting at your cheek with the dull, cold metal, I watch as a single tear travels from your skin and slides down the blade. With agonizing slowness, drinking in your fear, I slide it down. Down your neck, between your abused breasts and over your stomach…stopping to slice through the remains of your shirt.

I slide my free hand unceremoniously up your skirt, gripping your smooth left thigh hard, indenting your skin…my thumb uncomfortably close to your most intimate place. Then, continuing with the slow cruel trail of the blade. Over your skirt but still pressing down uncomfortably through the fabric to your shivering skin. Down the side feminine curve of your hip, down your thigh…
You try desperately, straining against the rope around your ankles, to close your knees. To protect your most intimate, sensitive place from the blade that could cut you at any moment. But the knots are too tight. You are too vulnerable, too scared. I reach the bottom of the skirt and cut it open. Just a little tear.

Again I place the knife aside. Where you can see it. “You are a dicktease with this skirt you know that? Such a skimpy thing covering your bottom…giving me just a peek at your soft thighs. Teasing. Out there you can get away with wearing something like this and not getting your ass squeezed. And worse” You shake your head slowly, meeting my eyes, pleading with me not to do this. “But you aren’t out there anymore are you?”

“You are mine, and I don’t want you wearing this,” I declare matter of factly as I grip the skirt on either side of the rip. And begin tearing. More of your inner thighs visible as I tear slowly, drawing out this degredation. You moan pathetically and keep trying to force your knees closed. Soon your simple pink cotton panties are visible. Your last “protection” from the monster slowly stripping you. Finally the tear reaches the top and your skirt is parted. I pull the useless item away and drop it to the cold floor. “There now…almost finished.”

I slide my hands up your thighs. Squeezing. Pinching. I lean forward, taking a single tit into my mouth. Tasting the tears of your humiliation, I mouth as much of your breast as I can, sucking and nibbling at will. Possessing you. With nowhere to backup to, no way to defend yourself, you can do nothing to stop me as I lick you, pinch you, hurt you. I sense your panic rise again as I slide my hand around the crotch of your panties…my hard knuckles against the soft lips of your pussy. With sudden fierceness I yank back, tearing the soft fabric of your panties, throwing them to the side.

You cry out at your complete forced nudity and start crying into hysterics. I encourage it…SLAP an open hand to your tear streaked face. SLAP again. And again. Your hands flexing open behind you as you try to brace yourself. I lean close to your face as I slide my hand over your pussy…parting your lips slightly and pressing a finger at your sacred opening. “My cock. Right here,” as I push it inside you, “whenever I want.”

Leaning back to the table of toys behind me I lean in close again to your defenseless chest. You hear a clink of a small metal chain. Terrified, you see and see I hold two things: a permanent marker and a small chain with two small clamps at either end. “AGGHPHHHGPHHH” you protest and recoil as I grab your right breast and squeeze, forcing your nipple to jut out. Crazed with fear, knowing what I intend, you shake uselessly…trying to save your sensitive nipple from the pinch. I squeeze the clamp open…you feel the pressure on either side of your nipple…and I release, letting it grip you securely.

At the moment I release you wail loudly again “AGGHGHGHGGGGG.” Kicking your feet the few scant inches the ropes allow in protest. Coveting your pain I slap your bare right nipple several times. Forcing that nipple too to harden. Again grabbing your breast while you try in vain to recoil, I clamp your other nipple. Again you cry out. A womanly, degraded, violated howl of pain. My cock twitches eagerly at the sound. I give the chain connecting your nipples a little tug and growl. The pain in your nipples is razor sharp.

And you can’t do anything to make it stop. You lean your head backward to cry out in pain. I mock you, “That’s right bitch. I will do. Whatever. I. Want.” With you still kicking and shaking I uncap the marker. You feel me using it on your right breast first. Making two large letters. Then your left. Two more large letters. I stand and move behind you and you hear a squeaking, rolling sound. You look up to see me wheeling a full length mirror in front of you, where I was sitting and tormenting you seconds ago.
I hit the overhead light, sending it swinging and casting dizzying shadows around the room…the light crossing your body momentarily, then leaving you in darkness, then swinging back, repeatedly. “Lets let that message sink in for a bit,” I say as I walk out of the room. You hear the door slam closed, at least three locks being turned. You look up into the mirror, seeing yourself as I see you each time the light gives you a glimpse. Hair tussled. Nude. Bruised. Bound. Tear streaked. The cold chain connecting the horrifically pinching clamps on your nipples. And on your bared breasts the message I left you to contemplate:
“MINE”
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more to come...