This story is fiction. All characters are 18 years of age or older, and none are based on any real person living or dead. Explicit consent is not optional. May sex traffickers rot in hell, but willing sex workers find the support and acceptance they deserve.
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I’m a good man. Ask anyone. I am active in the community, a supporter of humanitarian causes, a dependable friend, and a responsible (and very successful) businessman. Just last month I received a prestigious award for my contributions to assist victims of human trafficking and sexual slavery. I accepted the award and gave a stirring speech about our moral obligations. The applause was thunderous. In my speech I didn't bother to mention that at the time a young trafficked woman who I had stolen from the street was hanging by meat hooks through her tits in the dungeon under my home, her bloodied and bruised body dripping my cum from her ass.
Nature or nurture, what makes a man like me? Sadistic, cruel, perverted, depraved, I am an insatiable sexual predator who lives for the screams of helpless beautiful women who will know nothing but pain, terror and sexual degradation for the remainder of their short lives. All that I know is that the darkness has been part of me for as long as I can remember. But it wasn’t until my senior year in high school that I got my first real glimpse of who and what I am, and almost fucked up my life for good in the process. I probably owe my freedom today to being truthfully accused at 18 of an especially violent rape. That close brush with the law taught me the first of the lessons that have made my life possible. This is that story.
At 4’10” with full C cup tits, a firm ass, pouty lips, purple hair, and 98 lbs of goth/punk attitude, Tami was every horny teenage boy’s wet dream. On the days when she actually came to class her wardrobe was consistently tight, black, and revealing. When Tami showed up at our school in the middle of her senior year it didn’t take long for her to get a reputation to go with the look. Tami routinely wore sunglasses in class to hide her wide dilated pupils, and sometimes forgot to put makeup over the track marks on her arm. It wasn’t long before everybody “knew” that Tami would put out for anybody with a dime bag or a taste of something harder.
My life was different. I was 6’2”, on my way to being valedictorian, and 190 lbs of well-trained hard muscle that made me captain of our state championship wrestling team. I was the school’s golden boy, fawned over by every adult in the place. Hell, I was courteous, kind, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent, a fucking Eagle Scout.
I am also blessed with the kind of rugged good looks and easy, comfortable manner that make women blush when I catch them staring at me. Yeah, I am “that guy.” You know. The guy that you were so fucking jealous of in high school that you hated his fucking guts, but still wanted to hang out with hoping some of the cool would rub off. Guys wanted to be my friend just for a chance at sloppy seconds from some girl who was throwing her pussy at me. Hell, half of their mothers were after me, too. I am good with women — very, very good with women — and that's where the lessons began. It’s amazing what you pick up about seduction and sex at 18 when you are sharing the beds of a string of hot, 40-something MILFs who can’t get enough of your hard body, boyish charm, and thick 9 inch cock.
But Tami... Tami caught my eye for reasons I didn’t fully understand at the time. Sure, I joked with the rest of the guys about whether she’d suck harder on a cock or a crack pipe. But it was more than just sex. She had her own darkness that appealed to me. When I looked at the school’s hot new black-clad junkie whore my blood boiled. To be honest, the urges I felt scared the shit out of me, but they would not be ignored. Tami and I hardly knew each other. She was poor white trash, ridiculed in the social circles that I ran in. The last thing I wanted to do was destroy my reputation by publicly slumming with some coked up goth slut. But if the rumors were right and Tami would spread her legs for anybody who could get her high, that was a price I would happily pay.
My family didn’t have the kind of serious money I make now, but it was enough that I didn’t want for much. I didn’t use, but I had friends who could hook me up, no problem. So one night I just showed up at Tami’s single-wide unannounced. She hadn’t been to school in a few days and I had a pretty good guess why. Sure enough, when she opened the door she was obviously Jonesing bad. Without a word I tossed her a bag with enough smack, crack and meth in it to keep her flying for a month. When she opened the bag with shaking, sweaty fingers she moaned.
“Fuck Dave, shit, I’m hurting... Who told you? How did you know? Jesus, I need this... I really need this... fuck... it hurts so goddamned much... thank you... Jesus fuck, Dave, thank you!” She stepped off the porch, put her arms around me and hugged me tight. She didn’t mean anything by it, I could tell. It was the kind of hug a girl might give a big brother on her birthday. But holy fuck her body felt good! When I came over I was really just thinking it would make a good story to get a blowjob from a junkie. But as she stood there in my arms, pitiful, helpless, desperate, vulnerable, my thoughts turned dark. I didn't want to get a blow job or even just fuck her. I wanted to hurt her, to rape her, to crush her soul, to destroy her, and to drink in her terror and degradation as I did. "Want" is the wrong word. I didn't want that. I needed it. I craved it. And I would have it.
It was like someone threw a switch, and a different version of myself suddenly occupied my body. Who did this stupid little whore think she was anyway, thinking that someone like me would feed her habit just to be friendly? I gave that darkness free rein without even realizing it. Without thinking I grabbed her hair, pulled her head back, spat in her face and whispered in her ear, “You need it? Is that what you said, whore? You need it?” I squeezed her against me tight and pressed my hard cock against her stomach through my jeans. She tried to pull away, but I held on, grabbing her hand and holding it to the sizeable bulge in my crotch.
“Feel anything you like, Tami? How badly do you need to score, bitch? How long has it been? What’s a bag of candy worth to a disgusting piece of trailer trash cunt meat like you? Hmmm? You’re nothing but a worthless desperate little drug whore who can’t afford her fix. You know that. I know that. So how do you propose to pay?”
I let her go and laughed when she pushed me away and looked at me, shocked at what the school’s golden boy had just said to her.
“Look, Dave... I... I know what people say. I see how people look at me. I know the rumors. But I don’t really do that. I’ve never fucked a boy from school. Never. The only people I fuck...”
Her voice trailed off, not finishing the sentence. When she spoke again she was more composed. “Please Dave. You’re a good guy. I know you are. Please just help me. Just this once, OK? I’m trying to kick my habit. Really. I’m going to go back to NA. I just need this bag to get right for now, ya know? I’ll pay you back after I get a job next month, I swear!”
Jesus, it was delicious watching and listening to her struggle with her demons as she stood there clutching the bag. I drank in her desperation and humiliation in like a man dying of thirst. When I stepped forward and grabbed the bag away from her she screamed and lunged at me. I held it up just out of her reach as she danced around trying to grab it, then backhanded her hard and sent her sprawling. As she lay there on the ground dazed I put a foot on her face and pushed it into the dirt.
“Manners, cunt! I was going to settle for a quick fuck, but the price just went up. Let’s start by you telling me what you are and what you’ll pay.”
The petite, gorgeous girl just lay there sobbing as my cock about burst through my pants.
“Beg for it, bitch. Tell me you are a worthless piece of shit junkie whore who wants me to fuck her up the ass. Tell me! I want to hear you say it.”
I took my foot off of her face and she stared up at me blankly. I laughed louder, and kicked her hard in her tits. Twice. Three times. Then I opened my fly and took out my cock. “Is this what you want, whore? Hmmm? Here, let me give you a little sample.”
When I started pissing Jesus it stank! This wasn’t the clear watery stuff. My bladder was full of a good quart of thick, rancid, orange-yellow piss. When she started to scream at me I hit her square in her face and open mouth with the hard stream. After that she spit and cried, but otherwise just lay there as I deliberately drenched her from head to toe, paying special attention to her face, her tits, and her crotch. When I was done I put my cock back in my pants, zipped up, turned, and started to walk away.
It wasn’t half a second before she screamed at the top of her lungs, “Noooooooo!!! Don’t leave! You can have what you want! Come back!”
I wasn’t going to let her off that easy so I stopped with my back to her and asked, “What are you and what do you want?” I heard a low mutter in response, so I turned and kicked her in the tit again.
“What was that cunt? I want to hear it. Last chance, bitch, or I’m out of here!”
Instantly she cried out, “I’m a trailer trash whore! I’m a worthless junkie bitch cunt! I want your cock in my ass, Dave! Fuck, I NEED your cock in my ass, Dave! I need it! Give me the bag and I’ll do whatever you want!”
I smiled, then turned and and let myself into her trailer. She meekly followed. I got the sense this wasn’t the first time she had been forced to submit to something like this. Once inside I told her to strip, and without a word she did. As she opened her top her tits looked fucking huge on her tiny little body. Listening to my new dark muse, I reached down, grabbed a nipple, crushed it, and twisted hard. Sure, I’d pinched and nibbled girl’s nipples before, just enough for them to whimper. Some of the randy housewives I fucked liked it pretty hard, but I’d never done anything like this. I sank my fingernails into the flesh until I saw blood, then used the torn nipple to yank on her large, firm tit, tugging it up and down and side to side while she screamed and begged me to stop. Then I let it go, stepped back and backhanded her again. I couldn't believe how good it felt to hit her. This time she crashed into a cabinet and slumped to the floor as dishes and glasses fell and shattered around her.
She demonstrated her submission again by continuing to strip until she was naked, then crawled through the broken glass and plates to kneel in front of me. Her tattoos and smooth shaved cunt held me transfixed, as did the blood smeared over the floor from the cuts she got while crawling to me. I smiled at her and reached down. She winced, expecting me to hit her again. Instead I gently stroked her cheek with a warm, sensual touch.
“See, Tami. It's so much nicer when you don't act like such a fucking little bitch. I know you are a whore. You know you are a whore. If you had been a good girl like this from the first you'd be right by now and who knows, maybe you'd already be swallowing my first load. It’s your fault you know. You won’t make me do that again, will you, cunt meat?”
She whimpered, leaned into me and rubbed her cheek against my crotch. “No Sir. I’m sorry, Sir. Thank you for knowing what I need, Sir. Thank you for reminding me I'm a whore.”
“OK cunt meat. You can get well now.”
Suddenly she was like a kid on Christmas morning. She scrambled away from me, opened a drawer, and started taking out paraphernalia. First she dropped a large rock of crack into a glass pipe. I could see her impatience as she held the flame to the bowl, then her ecstasy as she drew the thick smoke into her lungs and held it there. She started to pass the pipe, but I shook my head no. I was feeding new demons of my own, and didn’t want them dulled.
Next it was a spoon, a needle, and a length of surgical tubing. With practiced ease she tapped brown powder into the spoon, heated it, and pulled the liquid into a dirty syringe. When I saw that I made the decision not to get near her holes without a condom. No telling who she shot up with or what they had. That decision would save my ass. Next she wrapped the tubing around her arm, pulled it tight with her teeth, and found a vein. Her eyes rolled back in her head as the heroin combined with the cocaine and all of her problems disappeared.
She stank from the piss, so I kicked her hard in the cunt and told her to go get cleaned up. When she was gone I opened the fridge, found a beer, and took a seat. A few minutes later when she walked back out my jaw about hit the floor. She was dressed like a stripper, complete with what must have been 8 inch black heels and fishnet stockings. For a girl who “didn’t do that,” she seemed awfully eager when she took me by the hand and led me to her bedroom. It really wasn’t much of a room for a teenage girl, but it was a good fit for Tami. It looked like a back room in a cheap Tijuana brothel. Peeling paint on the walls was covered with psychedelic posters, most depicting drugs, naked women and sex. When she flipped on a black light the place glowed, including the cum stains all over the queen sized bed.
Tami giggled. “You are the first boy I’ve had in here, Dave. Usually it’s just Daddy and his friends and me.” Then she bent forward, showing me her ass, pulled her G-string down, slapped herself on the ass, lay back on the bed and spread her legs wide. She had the perfect cunt to suit her body. Her outer lips were smooth and taught like a little girl’s. When she used her fingers to hold it open her tidy inner lips were already wet. The only thing large about her fuckhole was a rather spectacular clit that was already hard. She smiled as I watched, slid two fingers inside, and slowly started to fuck herself. Drifting high on the drugs and arousal, she would pause each time she pushed them in and curl her fingertips up into her G-spot, then draw the wetness up over her swollen clit as she pulled them out. I just sat back in a chair and watched the show. She almost came, but stopped herself and took another deep hit off of the crack pipe.
She bit her lip, looked at me, and seemed to be having an argument with herself. Finally she school her head and said, “Fuck it! Dave, shit, I’ve got to come clean...” She started fucking herself again, this time harder, moaning and thrusting her hips up to meet her fingers. “I’m sorry I was a bad girl... I’m so sorry... I know what I am, what I’m worth, all that I’m good for. I just wanted you to think better of me. Seeing you with the other girls at school, I’ve wanted to be your girlfriend. I finger fuck myself every night thinking of you holding me and kissing me and protecting me. I think of you when Daddy and his friends are fucking me. But Daddy doesn’t let me see boys. Daddy says that I’m his whore. Daddy makes me let his friends use me to get drugs. If Daddy knew I was with a boy he’d kill me.”
Her face turned dark and frightened for a moment and she stopped frigging herself. “I mean it, Dave. Daddy told me what he did to Mommy... He told me he’d do that to me if I tell anyone... If I don’t obey him...”
Then the moment passed. I pointed to the crack pipe, and when she took another hit her eyes glazed over and she went back to working her cunt and started begging me for my cock. I stood up and slowly removed my clothes. She had seen my cock before when I pissed on her, but now she was in a very different frame of mind. She looked at it, gasped, then licked her lips. “That’s the biggest I’ve had, but I think I can get it into my mouth.”
Daddy must have taught her well, because as soon as I lay down on the bed she licked my nipples, then slowly ran her tongue down to my cock. When she took the head in her mouth and swirled her tongue it was like smooth velvet. She took her time, taking more and more of my cock into her mouth then backing off, teasing the slit and sensitive underside of the head, and starting down the shaft again. After several unsuccessful tries to get the whole thing down her throat she cupped my balls in one hand and lightly teased the underside of my scrotum, then grabbed the base of my cock with the other hand and pushed her mouth over the rest. Points for technique. She rotated her hand one way around based of my cock while she stroked it. At the same time she rotated her mouth the other way around the top half of my pole while she sucked it. The sounds were wet and sloppy, and I felt her gushing on my leg where she was grinding her cunt against me. As she worked my cock my mind went back to the earlier part of the evening. Fuck it felt right when I had slapped her around and kicked her in the tits. Seeing her pitiful and broken like that, and the look of disgust and self loathing on her piss-drenched face when she called herself a whore and begged me to rape her in the ass. And now this. I had been right about all of it. Not that it mattered. By then I was going to rape her regardless.
The feel of her mouth and hands on my cock and thinking about her degradation almost put me over before I realized it. I caught myself in time, grabbed her by the hair, pulled her off, and hit her just because. Then I hit her again, and again, and again. Her face, her tits, her cunt, her stomach, for several minutes I just beat the shit out of her. By the time I stopped her face was swelling up, blood was running from the corner of her mouth, and she again had that hollow, broken look in her eyes. But she just sat there and looked at me, clearly needing my approval. My cock throbbed like I had never felt it before.
I nodded at the crack pipe. She bowed her head and said, “Thank you, Sir. May I?” She waited for me to say yes, then lit up. This time it took two long, deep hits to sooth her. Then at my insistence she reluctantly took a condom out of her drawer and used her mouth to slide it onto my throbbing shaft.
I wanted to hurt this girl. I needed to hurt this girl. But to really hurt first she needed to want me, to crave me more than she even craved the drugs. When she looked up shaking it was clear that she expected me to beat her up while I raped her. Instead I took her chin, drew her up to my lips and gave her the kind of slow, luxurious kiss that goes on forever. I continued to kiss her like that, our tongues deeply exploring each other’s mouths. As the kiss went on and on I gave myself to the sensuality completely, letting Tami feel my own passion and need. I knew the moment she gave herself over to me completely, kissing me with a wanting and need I had never felt from a woman before. Without breaking the kiss I lay back on the bed and she swung her leg over me. Reaching down she grabbed my rock hard cock, pressed it against the opening of her tiny, tight wet cunt and began trying to impale herself on what must have felt to her like a baseball bat. She gasped, groaned, and started crying as she kissed me even harder. I grabbed her thighs and in a single thrust drove myself into her sex until my pubic bone was crushing her clit. She screamed in pain as the head of my cock tore through her cervix and just keep going, but within a couple of minutes that turned into cries of lust as she raised up then slammed herself down onto my cock again and again. Grinding her clit into me at the bottom of each self-brutalizing stroke, she was nothing but an animal in heat. When her orgasm finally took her she clamped down so hard that it felt like my cock was in a fucking vice. She must have come for two minutes straight, and I looked into her eyes and pulled her hard into the kiss the whole time. I had never felt a girl cum like that. She finally slowed, and paused for a moment, looked at me deeply, and gave herself completely to the kiss. In that moment all the walls came down. All the barriers she had erected to protect herself crumbled. In that moment I came to own her soul.
If you have never heard of Tantric sex, look it up. A couple of the trophy wives I was fucking were into it, and I had learned. How to describe the experience of Tantric sex? I’m sure you know what it feels like when you need to blow a load but don’t, and the feeling just gets more intense. Imagine that increasing intensity building, and building, and building for both of you together. It’s like that. The rest of the universe vanishes. Completely. The only thing left in all of creation is the sea of blissful sensation the two of you share. The all consuming focus is far and away the deepest form of meditation I have ever experienced. One hot 40 year old and I could lie there for hours, holding each other, moving against each other in exactly the right ways, frozen in an unending moment of unbearable ecstatic agony. As Tami came off of her orgasm, I sought and found that headspace and drew Tami into it with me. I don’t know how long I floated there with her, wanting to cum and wanting to never cum.
And then I slid my hand up and rested it on her throat. It was a natural and unthinking motion on my part. Many of the women I had been with got off on the feeling, and some even begged me to choke them harder while they came. But when I took Tami by the throat she completely freaked!
Remember the bit about Tami getting kind of weird when she mentioned her mother’s death? What I didn’t know at the time is that only a few weeks before coming to our school, Tami had been the one to find her mother’s nude body hanging by the neck from a rafter. A vibrator held in her mother’s cunt by a leather harness was still going, and fresh cream from the woman’s cunt ran down the insides of her thighs. The nose and lips of the fresh corpse were smeared with white powder, and a meth pipe on the floor below her was still smoldering. Completing the scene, a step stool lay tipped over on the floor nearby.
The evidence seemed pretty clear, and the coroner ruled that Tami’s mother had died of autoerotic asphyxiation. She had gotten high, strapped the vibrating dildo up her cunt, climbed up on the stool, put the noose around her neck, and stepped off. Her intention was to masturbate through the euphoria caused by shutting off the flow of oxygen to her brain. But she had somehow kicked the stool over, leaving her no way to save herself as she hung there and slowly died.
When Tami found the body and called the cops they reached the same conclusion almost immediately. Not realizing that Tami was still within earshot, crying her eyes out in the kitchen, they started cracking jokes about her mother cumming and going at the same time. The cops took turns playing in the folds of the dead woman’s cunt and laughing about what a waste it was that there hadn’t been a cock in such a fine piece of ass as she hung there kicking before she died. Little did they know...
The last time that I saw Tami, after the court appearance that put her stepfather away for life, she told me the whole real story. Seems Daddy had caught his wife whoring herself out to guys she picked up in bars and then not giving him the money. In a rage fueled by a combination of meth and PCP her stepfather staged the whole thing. He even fucked Tami’s mother in the ass as she struggled, begged, and then hung there twitching until she was dead. Daddy had even shown Tami the tape, then grabbed her by the throat and held her against the wall screaming that if she ever told a soul he would do the same thing to her. Tami was sure he was going to kill her right then and there. She passed out, thinking she was dead. But when she woke up on the floor where Daddy had dropped her, her stepfather just told her to go put on some slutty clothes and get ready to entertain some friends who were going to hook them up with some good shit.
I have to say that Tami’s stepfather was on to something. The first time that I came up the ass of a woman as she died with a noose around her neck was pure bliss. But that is another story.
Anyway, back to Tami and I. We were lying there moving against each other in delicious sexual agony when I took her throat in my hand and started to choke her. Now that I know what had happened to her I understand that of course asphyxiation was a trigger for her. But at the time all that I knew was that without warning she freaked the fuck out and went completely berserk with fear!
I might have stopped and tried to calm her, but I didn’t. Instead the darkness grabbed me instantly and had its way. I was still in a trance of sorts, but now instead of Tantric bliss I was feeding on her sexual terror. The more she fought, the harder my cock got, and the harder my cock got the tighter I squeezed. With my size and strength, dominating her physically required no effort. The violence came naturally, so I just kept choking her and pounding her cunt brutally, throwing my full weight into her again and again. I’m not sure how long I continued to choke and fuck her after her body stopped moving, her eyes closed, and her mouth fell open, spittle running from its corner. I was fascinated watching what was happening play out on her face until her mind finally disappeared. I was consumed by the way her cunt milked my cock as she kicked and struggled and then started jerking in hard unconscious spasms. Now I was feeling what it was like to brutally rape what I was all but certain was a fresh warm corpse. It was at that moment when I correctly realized that while fucking someone else’s kill would likely not be my thing, finishing in the dead body of a woman I had choked to death during intercourse might be a hobby worth cultivating.
But when I finally let go of Tami’s throat her body began to twitch again as she drew ragged, irregular shallow breaths. So she was alive. I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that to be honest, but went with it. I was learning what sex was really meant to be for a man like me, and there was more fun to be had. As Tami opened her eyes and looked around in confusion I pulled out of her cunt and shoved the full length of my cock up her unprepared asshole. The fact that in that moment Tami had no idea where she was or what was happening did nothing to dull her pain. The way I ripped open her dry ass open, it must have felt to her like I was fucking her with a piece of red hot steel pipe. Yes, it was uncomfortable for me for a moment as well, but don’t worry too much about me. It was only a few strokes before the blood from her ruined asshole provided enough lubrication for me to fuck her comfortably.
God, her tears were so beautiful, so perfect as she cried and begged me to stop. The terror and helplessness in her eyes was the sexiest, most arousing thing I had ever seen. So I did the obvious. I put my hand on her throat again and squeezed while I fucked her shredded gaping ass. I spit in her face as she panicked, and told her over and over again that she was a dead woman. She wasn’t in a position to speak, but her eyes made it clear that she believed me.
OK... A side note, here. This is where some stuck up PC feminist shrink bitch will tell you that I was “objectifying” Tami. That is utter bullshit. What fun would it be to rape and torture a girl who I saw as nothing but some sort of meat-filled sex doll? Look, I am not some run-of-the-mill psychopath who can’t comprehend the emotions of others. I love, I care, I feel compassion and human connection, I experience empathy as intensely as anyone and more intensely than most. Never is that more true than when I give myself over completely to the darkness. That is when I am most acutely, profoundly, viscerally aware of the glowing beauty of a girl’s unique, complex, irreplaceable human soul. It is that individual, precious being, and not some “object,” that I revel in torturing, raping, degrading, and ultimately destroying.
That is the nature of my darkness. I am not a psychopath. A psychopath is just broken. My evil is something that a mere psychopath could never begin to understand.
But those are topics for another time. Back to Tami. As I choked out Tami again and again, pushing her repeatedly through the terror of her own seemingly certain death, she lost sphincter control. I found myself fucking her ass through a sticky foul mess of blood and shit... and smiled.
I made sure that she was awake and fully aware before I yanked her head up by the hair and made her look the filth between her legs. I made her watch as grabbed a handful of the filth and shoved it up into her cunt. Then I pulled my fat 9 inch blood and shit-covered cock out of her ass and defiled her by driving it all the way up her cunt, through her cervix into her womb. I pounded her like that for a time, laughing at her and asking what it felt like to have the very thing that made her a woman packed full of her own hot, filthy shit.
For some women few things are as degrading as scat, especially when her holes are used interchangeably like that. Fucking a girl’s shit-filled cunt is a special kind of nasty. Even through the fog of what she had already experienced, Tami understood what was happening. I watched her eyes as a part of her humanity died. I knew that never again for the rest of her life would Tami looked at herself in the mirror and see a human being deserving of love and dignity. Instead she would see a worthless human toilet who deserved nothing better than to have her cunt packed with shit for the pleasure of whatever man would bother to fuck her.
To make sure I made her watch as I packed another handful of shit up her cunt and then started going back and forth, driving my filthy cock all the way up her ruined asshole on one stroke, then deep into her womb on the next.
I honestly don’t know how long it went on, but by the time I finished she was just lying there, accepting the utter destruction of her humanity without resistance. She did wretch when I pushed a handful of her shit into her mouth, held it covered, and told her to swallow before I let her breathe. It was a struggle for her, but there was no fight left. She complied. And when I told her to suck my cock she did that too, sliding her mouth down over about half of my shit-covered cock.
The hell with that, I thought. This whore needs to learn how to swallow cock! So I grabbed her head and shoved until my cock was all the way down her throat and my balls were pressed against her chin. The filth, the degradation, the feeling of her throat as she gagged on my cock. It was all overwhelming and I felt myself getting close to the orgasm I had been putting off for hours. I finally came and came hard with her thrashing wildly and struggling for breath as shit-filled puke sprayed out of her throat around the sides of my cock.
When I pulled out of her throat the girl just lie there, catatonic but for her pitiful sobbing.
As the fog of arousal cleared and I regained my senses I realized that I should be careful. There was no fear or panic, just calm calculation. This was back in the days before DNA testing, so cleaning up after a rape wasn’t as tricky as it is today. Instead of tossing the condom full of my spunk in the trash I flushed it down the toilet. Then I showered, washing myself thoroughly. Tami was worse than disgusting, so I grabbed her by the hair, dragged her to the shower, and threatened to finish the job I had started until she had scrubbed herself to my satisfaction with a hard-bristled brush. I removed the shower head from its long hose and shoved the hose up Tami’s cunt and ass repeatedly, fucking her with it as the water washed away the worst of that filth. The shit-covered bedsheet and pad went in the washer on hot.
Just for fun I took the dirty clothes out of “Daddy’s” bedroom and dumped them all around Tami’s room. I did the same with Tami’s dirty stuff, dumping it in her father’s room, including stuffing her quim soaked panties into his underwear drawer. Finally I retraced my steps through the trailer and wiped down any surface where I might have left a fingerprint.
Men have a refractory period after cumming. Our cocks deflate and our sex drives abate for a time. I am no different. When I went back into Tami’s room she had crawled out of the shower and was cowering nude in the corner. My lust had run its course for the moment, so fucking her again was not my first thought. I mean, sure, it would have been fun to hang around for another rape, but it was getting late. I had appeared at the door at around 11:00, and now it was after 2:30 in the morning. She had said that her stepfather worked a night shift, but I didn’t really know how late it went. Even so as I took stock of how I felt, I learned something else about myself. I could walk away from the sex, but I wasn’t done yet. There was another part of my darkness that had been waiting, cold, calculating, and intent on being explored.
I gave Tami the crack pipe, then went back to Daddy’s room for something I had seen there. It was a thick, metal-studded leather belt with a large buckle. I took the belt back to Tami and without a word swung it hard so that it cut into her back. I thought perhaps that at this point she was beyond screaming, but I was wrong. The crack had stimulated her enough that she was fully aware of the hell I proceeded to put her through.
There are many ways to hit a woman with a belt. Doubled over, leather side out. Doubled over, studs exposed. Holding it at the buckle and using it as a whip, again employing either leather or metal studs depending on desired effect. Swinging it from a distance so that only the tip cuts flesh as the belt cracks. Swinging it closer so that the belt wraps around body or limb. And of course gripping the belt and hitting her with the buckle itself.
There are also many places to hit a woman with a belt, and different directions to swing from. My preference these days is for the girl to be tied spread and unable to protect herself. That way I can tear at her flesh with different implements, exercising the kind of thoughtful precision torture deserves. But beating an unbound woman also has its appeals. There is no way for a girl to protect everything at once. When she tries to protect her ass she exposes her tits. When she protects her face her body and legs are vulnerable. And as she thrashes and cowers, surprisingly often she is likely to leave her cunt exposed for a direct blow.
Put all of this together and a woman becomes an artist’s canvas, there to be painted with welts and blood and cuts and bruises. Yes, beating a woman as she cowers and screams and writhes around on the floor trying to protect herself can be a wonderful expression of both my place in the world and hers. That is especially true with the right girl, and Tami didn’t disappoint. For the next long while together I used her to explore this new form of art that I would one day master.
The marks from a beating may fade, but if applied with the right psychological finesse they never really disappear. Again, I seemed to know this at the time even without real understanding. I beat Tami brutally and steadily as I calmly explained to her that this was her purpose in life. As the buckle of the belt cut hard into her momentarily unprotected cunt I explained that I was the closest thing to true love she would ever know. She continued to cower, scream, and beg for mercy when the metal studs cut across her tits, drawing blood from both nipples. But at the same time she heard and understood me as I told her that she would spend her life crying in need because she would never find a man who understood her like I did.
From time to time I would stop, hold her, sooth her, tell her what a special girl she was. I might let her take a hit from the pipe, then kiss her wounds and cradle her gently in my arms and tease her labia and clit until I felt warmth and wetness.
Then I would beat her again, even more viciously than before.
Her father called around 4:00 in the morning. The answering machine picked up, and he told her in drunken slurred speech that he would be home in half an hour and expected to find her in his bed wet and ready. I looked down at her and saw that the beautiful slut from school was now a bruised and bloody lump of broken flesh. But somehow she was still beautiful, and in some ways even more so.
When I turned to leave, Tami crawled to me and grabbed onto my leg. She begged me not to go, or to take her with me. She cried and pleaded, telling me that I could do anything to her, and that she would do anything for me.
Stockholm Syndrome sounds like some kind of psychological delusion, but to the girl who has been broken it is undeniable reality. It is surprisingly easy to build such a bond. Stupid, brutish abusive husbands manage to draw their cowering wives into devoted victimhood without even trying. But in the hands of someone who understands the tools and psychology of such manipulation, complete devotion in the face of limitless brutality and degradation can be crafted. As with Tami, violence, terror, humiliation and control interspersed with small kindnesses and praise is only one of many tools that can be used to form and reinforce such a bond. Building dependency as I did by controlling Tami’s drugs is another. Find the right corners of the professional psychological literature and there are many more techniques that are both practical and powerfully effective. The thing to remember is that the more intense the physical brutality and the more extreme the degradation and humiliation, the more there is to work with. At least if you have the intelligence, subtlety and finesse required to put them to good use.
Tami held onto me crying as I started to open the door to leave. The kind thing would have been to just walk away. Simple rejection might have allowed her to find some escape by objectifying herself. Instead I did the most sadistic thing I could. I held her gently, stroked her hair, kissed her, petted her. I helped her shoot up again, and while she drifted in that drug induced bliss I told her again and again to remember this moment and how desperately she needs what only I can give her. I made her feel warm and comfortable and safe, while telling her that girls like here were just born to be submissive, masochistic whores. That was her undeniable nature. It was who she was and always would be. Her only hope was to find a way to accept the loathsome piece of human filth she would always be.
Then I told her that if she was a very very good little slut that some day I might use her again.
The next day when I got up I felt wonderful. Despite the short night’s sleep, I was strong and refreshed. We had a match that afternoon and I crushed an opponent that had beaten me at our last outing. Thinking about it I realized what had happened. In the past I had always held something back, afraid to truly let myself go. That hesitancy had now disappeared, and would never return.
As I mentioned above, this story almost ended badly. The police knocked on my door two days later wanting to talk to me as a person of interest in a violent sexual assault. Of course I denied everything, but the only alibi that I had was that my parents were pretty sure I had been in my room asleep that night. Tami had not willingly turned me in. Her stepfather had forced her to tell him what had happened. After he spent a couple of days raping and beating her for not turning over the drugs right away, she pretty much told the police the whole story of what I had done. I was booked, finger printed, my blood typed, and then bailed out by my parents.
I continued to insist that I was innocent, but deep down figured that I was probably going to pay. At least she was 18 and of age. But then so was I; I’d be tried as an adult. Then luck intervened in my favor. The cops ran a rape kit on Tami, and came up with a good sample of semen. The blood type was a very rare AB- that matched Tami’s step father. Mine is O+.
Yes, “Daddy” really was that stupid. When police went back with a warrant they found lots of interesting things. There were Tami’s soiled panties in Daddy’s underwear drawer, of course. I got a laugh out of that. But in addition to the drugs and pictures of an underage Tami being fucked and sucking cock, there was also a tape in the VCR showing Tami’s mother being stripped, hung from the rafters, and raped while she slowly died. I guess the dumshit was stupid enough to leave the tape out where he could watch it and jerk off. In all honesty, I think that I probably saved Tami’s life.
On the witness stand Tami cleared my name once and for all. She talked about how her stepfather used drugs to control her, then raped her and whored her out to other men. She then look at me, cried, and told the court that accusing me had all been part of a plan on her stepfather’s part to blackmail my family. She apologized to us all, and right there from the witness stand looked at me and asked if I could ever forgive her.
She and I had dinner that evening. In the time since Daddy’s arrest she had been placed in what sounded like a good foster home on the other side of town. She was clean at least for the moment, and in therapy to deal with her grief over her mother and the abuse at the hands of her stepfather. She swore to me that she would never breathe a word of what happened, and I believed her. I still do, since now among other things I am quietly paying her daughter’s tuition to a private East Coast university that I arranged for her to be admitted to.
When we parted company that last time we met she grabbed me, held me tightly, buried her face in my chest and broke down crying. When she finally regained her composure she looked up at me with those beautiful eyes and told me how desperately she wanted me.
I have to admit that I was tempted to use her again, but the risks were just too great. I already realized that what happened with Tami was nothing but a tame beginning to what I would inevitably spend my life doing to women. In fact, the most important lesson that I learned from Tami is that even the most devoted friend or lover was capable of exposing me under the right circumstances. I think it was Benjamin Franklin who said, “Three people can only keep a secret if two of them are dead.” In my world that lesson is the foundation of my survival. Well, OK, they don’t all have to be dead, I suppose. I just have to be sure that they will never be heard from again.
As Tami cried that without me her life was over I kissed her, smiled, and walked away.
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If people like this story, I might decide to write more chapters about what Dave grew to become. As hinted, this story is the gentle prelude to the things that might come next.
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