a little something (4)

Ultraviolence's profile . Ultraviolence group posts

Posted by fbac12 on Mon 8 Feb 10, 9:38 PM

I've posted this elsewhere before, but somehow it seemed to fit well here....

a true-ish story....edited for purposes of discretion:

We'd spent a lovely weekend together, and, as usual, I had to go home on Sunday afternoon. The sex had of course been great all weekend, we'd spent the whole time fucking, but on Sunday afternoon we'd gone for some drinks, and, as usual, you had been dressed perfectly to order. You could tell by the way I was looking at you what I was thinking, how hungry I was for you, but there was no time or opportunity for anything, not even a fumble in the disabled loos (!) because I'd had to get the train. You took me to the station, kissed me, and off you trotted home.

What were you wearing? Let me remember, Sweet. Your hair was up, and you had the usual makeup on I liked: lots of deep red lipstick, thick, dark eyeliner, long, beautifully manicured French-polish nails. You had never worn makeup like this before – now you enjoyed, reveled in it – knowing that you were doing it for me. On the top you were wearing a black corset style top; not boned/laced, but tight, giving a really beautiful look at your cleavage, but most importantly, nipping in your waist, restraining you, so that with every breath you were reminded of your restraint and your submission. A single silver pendent hung deep into your cleavage, to draw my eye. A shortish skirt - nothing too outrageous, but very pretty, black, and lacey on the edges. Opaque black holdups with pretty lace tops, and your special heels - you remember, the black ones: demure, but deeply sexy. The ones that made it difficult to walk, emphasised your legs and bottom, and encouraged a perfectly, beautifully arched back and posture: another reminder.

So off you went, and I went home. Or so you thought. Actually, I didn't get on the train. I followed you home. I took out of my bag my new long dark coat. I hadn't worn it all weekend, it hadn't been cold enough. I turned the collar up, and as I walked past a shop window across the street I looked at myself. I just appeared as a dark figure, impossible to see my face at that distance.

Eventually we got to *** Road. By this time it was really dark, and it was pretty cold. You just had a thin cardigan on, and you were shivering. You were click-clacking down the pavement, and it was, as usual, very quiet. You walked past the *** building. It always amused us to hear the *****, but now you went past it without a look. You were anxious, because you were approaching the pathway, the guinnel. I guess I must have coughed or something, because you turned round and saw me. Well, you saw a figure in a dark coat. You turned back to face the front, crossed your arms, and started to walk a touch more quickly.

But your heels were hindering you, and it was barely a stroll for me to be at a speed where I was slowly, but insistently, gaining on you. You kept looking over your shoulder, and I could tell you were getting nervous. You crossed over to the other side of the street. I crossed over.

I could tell you were really on edge, and the sound of your heels clicking on the concrete was making me hungry for you. I was getting closer and closer now. You weren't turning round any more - a good thing too, because you would have recognised me - you were too nervous. As we approached the guinnel, I was close enough to hear your breath, and see the condensation in the cold air. As we got to its entrance, and momentarily we were bathed in darkness inbetween streetlamps, I pushed you through its entrance, and covered your mouth, and your scream, with the sensation of my suede glove. My other hand had your wrists and I was forcing you deeper into the darkness, until we got to a corner. To the right of the corner is a small patch of grass, bounded on three sides by high concrete walls. The entrance is partially covered by a thicket. I pushed you up against one of these walls, and you were struggling, biting my fingers. I let you take a good mouthful of glove, before swiftly slipping my hand out of it, and then forcing almost the entire glove into your mouth to act as a rudimentary gag. It seemed to work - it was very bulky, and without the use of your hands (still pinned in front of you by my left hand), you were unable to get it out.

I could sense your panic now - you were breathing very heavily and not happy at all. Your legs were kicking, but again hampered by the heels. You really couldn't move away. The free hand moved down to between your legs, roughly lifting the skirt and parting your legs. Of course - your instructions for clothing had included a 'no knickers' rule, so your sex was fully available. The touch was rough, and hard, first your bottom, roughly parting the cheeks, an animalistic, hard and cruel touch, then sliding down to your cunt.

To my great surprise, you are, in fact, dripping. I'd never felt you like that before. Three fingers slipped easily in. 'Dirty little slut, you're wet as fuck' I whispered, no, breathed into your ear. I was sure you would know it was me then, Sweet, but later you claimed you only knew it was me when I'd started to rape you. At this point, you later said, the blood was pounding so hard you only just heard the voice, and weren't able to work out whose it was.

In any case, I thought you'd know, so I stepped up the pace. Since I was pinning you against the wall, I knew I didn't need to restrain your wrists, so my free hand went to your throat, whilst my fingers continued to work your cunt. Three fingers, deep inside, fucking you. I withdrew, and held them by your face. Three fingers, coated in lots of thick, stringy, cunt. 'Look at what a fucking whore you are, look at your cunt - you're desperate for it, desperate for me to rape you.' And as I spoke, I was smearing the cunt onto your face and nose, and dragging you by your throat away from the wall, and forcing you onto your knees and elbows, and then pinning your arms across your body, bearing down onto your with my weight so your face is in the ground.

I pulled your hips back to present the cunt, and bore down on the back to arch and keep you restrained. My fingers traced your quivering lips before plunging again into your cunt.

You heard me unbuckling my belt and pulling down my trousers. I briefly considered using it to make a choke collar, the belt, but realised it would make getting away tricky, so I just left it. You heard me putting a condom on. We never used them - but it was the extra humiliation. And then, came the moment of penetration. Rough and uncaring, deep and raw. You are on your knees now Sweet - your knees and shoulders. Your hands are across your body underneath you, your creamy hips are firmly positioned, your arse is presented, pointing up, its soft, white orbs deliciously tempting, hiding the slutmeat beneath, redolent with the stench of desire. My fingers find that your cunt betrays your mouth - you're desperate for me to stop, but you're desperate for me to go on. You're struggling, and screaming into the glove. What I'm doing to you is an abuse, it's against your will, and yet your dripping cunt tells me that it's good for you, and you need it. So, grabbing a fistful of that thick, blonde hair in my hand, and pulling your head back as far as it'll go, I guide my thickness to your cunt, and whisper in your ear. 'Whore, fuckslut, rapemeat - time to get what you deserve. Walk along like that, you deserve, you need, to be raped.' And then, as I'm easing into you: 'rape is all you understand. A slut like you can do nothing except experience cock in every hole, against her will.'

And thus I fuck, pulling back on your hair to rear you up against me on the in-thrust, leaning back on the out. The pace is immense, the depth of penetration extreme. Your cries are muffled by the glove as I fuck you, mercilessly, into the cold, wet ground. And yet, when I rip the glove from your mouth, what comes from it, is not 'No', or a scream, but a noise, from deep within your core as a living creature, a deep, low, throaty, groan that reverberates around the space, and which is followed by continuous moans of pleasure as you beg me to fuck you deeper, harder, more.

Turned on by your cunt, by your voice, I collapse on top of you, and begin to fuck much deeper and harder now, forcing one leg up at right angles, opening that fuckhole totally, allowing me full and deep access to your cuntmeat. One hand is now pulling your head back by your hair, the other wrapped around your front, pulling you into me, extending the angle, feeling the sensation of your tight, hard midriff. Your noise is animalistic - but so is mine. Deep grunting, into your ear, with a constant barrage of degradation, telling you what you are, each insult spurring you on to higher pleasure. And then I'm cumming, deep inside you, quivering, shaking and twitching. After a few moments I withdraw, bringing you up to all fours with me, and, despite your desperate situation, your sensations, you reach behind you to my cock, removing the condom, still without looking at me, and you feast on its contents, greedily slurping the thick, hot, salty spunk from the condom, upending it to get every last drop.

As you are hungrily licking the remaining drops from the sheath, I gather you up into my arms, easily fitting your weight against me, and carry you home. Your eyes are closed, and I'm telling you you're a good girl. 'Thank You, Sir. Thank You for raping me. Thank You for teaching me what I am, Sir.'

I shush you, and carry you easily to your flat, where I lie you down, strip you off, and take you to the bath. The water is warm, and I'm bathing you, your eyes still closed, sponging the sweat from you, and making you warm and safe, before dressing you in your soft, white, cotton nighty, and letting you curl up next to me for sleep. You kiss me softly on the lips and tell me you're my girl, always and forever.

Replies

8 Feb 10, 10:23 PM
Miss_Despotic
UK(M), 2 yrs

fbac12 wrote:
You heard me unbuckling my belt

There are few sounds sweeter than a belt buckle being undone
Ultraviolence

8 Feb 10, 10:37 PM
Will_and_Echo
UK(SW), 3 yrs

Miss_Despotic wrote:

fbac12 wrote:
You heard me unbuckling my belt

There are few sounds sweeter than a belt buckle being undone
It's the sound of it being pulled through the loops - that swoosh as it turns from an item of clothing into a glorious, brute weapon - that does it for me
Exx
"What you blush to tell", says Venus, "is the most important part of the whole matter"
www.clubcrimson.co.uk

8 Feb 10, 11:12 PM
GirlAfraid
UK(S), 12 mths

Will_and_Echo wrote:

Miss_Despotic wrote:

fbac12 wrote:
You heard me unbuckling my belt

There are few sounds sweeter than a belt buckle being undone
It's the sound of it being pulled through the loops - that swoosh as it turns from an item of clothing into a glorious, brute weapon - that does it for me
Exx
I like the looming. There's nothing else that makes me feel like he's bearing down on me with rage in his heart like a belt does...

9 Feb 10, 9:33 AM
Crystal_Eyes
UK(SA), 3 yrs
Yum; delicious story.
And I'm with you all on the belt - it's a lovely promise of things to come. Pardon the pun.
------------------------------------------
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