A Near Rape Experience


Okay, so here is my true confession.  I am afraid I have nothing as dramatic as Sauzanne to contribute but one little scene does stand out from the wide array of perversions I have wallowed in over the years. 


It happened, in my early thirties, that I met Alexandra through some mutual friends.   When you are in the market for female and you meet a new one, virtually any new one, you immediately start an assessment, grading her against your preconceived lists of wants and don’t-wants.  On the one hand she was, though not obese, seriously pudgy, and in talking to her I soon knew we had virtually nothing in common.  She was na´ve, unworldly, her music was pop 40, she told me how much fun she had had at Christian camp the summer before.  But then, what should I have expected from a _____teen year old?


Yeah, _____teen.  Which, of course, was one of the few things that she had in her favour.   Hey, numbers can be exciting.  Numbers like 16, 1/2 and 4-11.  As in sixteen years my junior, or almost half my age, and 4 foot 11 inches.  She even had a fairly pretty face so if she had been even half-ways svelte instead of a porker I have no doubt that I would have been all over her.   But fat has always been the one thing that can totally turn me off, and, as I was already getting laid elsewhere, though sporadically, I wasn’t desperate enough to pursue her beyond a casual flirt.


As these thing often work, my lack of interest only made her want it more.  One night when our friends had left us alone she propositioned me.  What was I going to say, ‘No, I’ve got a problem with fat’?  So I told her Sorry, I really was not interested in vanilla sex.  I then had to explain that I was into dominance and was looking for slaves, not lovers.   I figured that would probably scare her off, and if not…


She said “Okay”. 


God knows what she thought she was getting into, but, frankly, I really did not care.  I guess I thought my requirements for a slave were a lot looser than for a lover, but I was to learn that they are not.


I started a little scene right there in our friends’ living room – they had crashed for the night.  Imagine my surprise when I discovered that her pussy was shaved bald!  A _____teen year old!  Hey, she might have potential after all.  You see, back then, while certainly not all sluts were shaved, only wanton women did shave.  Think about it, if she spends time making her pubes look pretty it must because she hopes someone will be looking at it.  When I once asked Alex why she shaved she said guys only liked her because she was young and she thought it made her look younger.  Cleaver girl.


The scene ended up with her on her back on the floor with me brutally skull-fucking her.  Mildly disgusted with her and myself, only her gagging and retching in a miserable way was stimulus enough to get me off.   But either she had a strong submissive streak or was seriously in love or lust or something because instead of running home crying she wanted to carry on.


Okay, so now I had a pudgy, little fuck-toy at my disposal.  What the fuck; have some fun, right?  I messed with her over the next few weeks doing whatever amused me.   Nothing too, too wild because I did not think she would put up with it, but all your garden-variety humiliation things like embarrassing her front of a store clerk, licking cold sperm off the floor, making her drink my piss, etc.   She had a problem with even the least amount of pain so I stuck with degradation instead.  I really was repulsed by the fat, but I had my fun, none the less.


I was just using her as a sex toy.  My VCR was fairly new then so it was nice to have someone, a _____teen-year-old little someone, to suck me off while I watched pornos.   It sure beats jerking off and I enjoy the way it reinforces that she is nothing but fucktoy, a living masturbation device.


I really did not care about her one way or the other.  It was fun to have a cunt to torment and humiliate but I was disgusted enough by her bod that I really didn’t care if she got fed up and stopped coming around so I tended to ask a great deal and gave very little.  Actually, to be honest I was not really that disgusted with her, she really was not that bad; I just was not particularly attracted to her and was disgusted with myself for lowering my standards.  For some reason I was kind of grossed out by her pussy so I preferred not to touch it.  In the entire time we were together I never did fuck her; if I thought I could get more out of her by giving her the pleasure, by having her orgasm, I would let her get herself off.  Ain’t that the great thing about being in charge: you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.  So I got a piece of plump fuckmeat to use and abuse and she got a great deal of experience at forced deep-throat, since gagging her on my cock seemed to get me off when nothing else would.


I remember noting afterward that it was exactly four and a quarter weeks after that first night that we had a date at her house.  Mommy and Daddy were away for the week and she had shipped her little brother off somewhere so this was to be the first time I was to go to her house.


I vaguely remember that it was her birthday, but I could be wrong about that.  I hope it was, but this was almost a decade ago so details are sketchy.


She was going to cook me dinner and then had promised me “Anything I wanted”.  Well, what I wanted was to sodomize her.  I had only had a few other woman who would let me try that and only three that could actually go through with it.  I guess this is the point that I am supposed to brag about my enormous 8”, no 10”, no 14” horse cock, but I won’t bother.  However, I have had a number of women tell me that mine is much thicker than most and, as I have never made a study of other guys’ cocks, I will have to believe them.  Either way, I have had experienced butt-fuckers regrettably decline, so I was pleased to have a blank cheque from Alex.


I made her suck me off before dinner down in the “Rec Room”, and I remember it felt weird, and amusing,  to violating these people’s child in their own home.   I specifically remember wearing a condom - I believe it was the only time I did - so I am guessing that I must have made her made her lick it clean after, but I have no recollection of it.


I have no idea what was for dinner or whether it was good, but then I was only there for dessert anyway.


I told her to clear the table and then to lie on it on her back, pulling her skirt above her waist her crotch where my plate had been.   I think I had her get herself wet and then I remember fucking her with something, a candle or the wine bottle…I think it was a black candle.  First in her cunt and then up her hoop.  Yeah, its coming back, I can remember making her grease up her bald gash, probably with lard as it is my lube of choice, and shoving a black candle in and out of her slick shithole while she masturbated for me, spreading her greasy cunt like a good little slut.   When that pornographic little display got me hard, I stood and tried to shove in


“Slowly”, she begged, and I tried to comply. But, after a minute or so of watching my cockhead stretching open that little brown grommet, listening to her gasp and beg “slower”, I am afraid my cock took command away from my brain and, as you could probably guess, it has no ears to hear “slower”.   I was shoving in more and more persistently and she was complaining more and more vehemently.   


She told me take it out.   And she meant it. I knew she did.  And normally I would have stopped.  I may be a pre-vert, but rape ain’t my thing – at least, not in real life.  But this night I was beyond caring, probably to a great degree because I did not really give a shit about the owner of the asshole I was goring.   Or I did care, but only in that it excited me to be causing her pain while I took my pleasure, much like the skull-fucking had excited me.  She had been my little sex slave for a month had given me permission to do what I was doing, but at some point the thing turned into rape.  “no” means “no”, right?  Even if it comes half way through, right?  I knew at the time that it had crossed over the line into “non-consensual”, but I just held her down and kept going, sawing in and out of that tight hole while she cried and begged me to stop.  I cannot tell you how exciting the whole thing was. 


At least it was until she started convulsing.  She started having some kind of seizure and finally I had to pull out, unsatisfied.  I let her recover enough so she could function and then helped her to bed. I knew I should have stayed with her, not only to ensure she did not have a relapse and choke to death or something, but also just to support her after her traumatic ordeal.


But I didn’t.   I could not get out of that house quickly enough.  Partly I was still wound up by what had happened, but more, with her bed-ridden, she was of no use as a sex-toy, and thus of no use to me at all.  I’m outa’ there…


I never saw her after that.  It was a mutual decision as my hasty departure finally brought home to her how little I cared about her and I suddenly became very aware of who’s story a jury would believe if it ever turned ugly.


Just last year at an S&M get-together some people were telling me about “flying” or “hitting the zone”, a physiological thing that can happen to a sub where she suddenly finds herself on a different plane, like her mind is suddenly over-amping on speed.   They were all sort of vague, but when I described what Alex had been doing, they all agreed that that was probably what happened.  Oh, and that the worst possible thing I could have done was leave her alone do clean up the emotional mess.




Sorry Alex.