"unnamed" (erotica)

My erotica today is not literally without a name, but the blog post is. That is because today's story is very triggery. I repeat TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!! Please take this seriously!

I wrote this story about three months ago, almost immediately after reading Mollena Williams's article "Digging in the Dirt: The Lure of Taboo Role Play" in Tristan Taormino's The Ultimate Guide to Kink (2012). The article inspired me to embrace my lifelong rape fantasy. Yes, a rape fantasy. While this piece of erotica starts off fairly normally, albeit it with a D/s and pissplay kink, it is ultimately a rape fantasy. It is my rape fantasy and it both arouses and repels me. It gets me wet and needy, but it also horrifies me. And that horrified feeling is, in itself, hot as hell. It took me a long time to work out whether I was ever going to post this story, but it is one of my favorite fantasies and I return to it time and time again.

Why do I like it so much? I don't know. I cannot possibly be as eloquent as Mollena, "The Perverted Negress," and so I suggest you read her article. It is my favorite piece in an astounding book. Before the story starts I quote a passage from her article:

 

"Rape and domestic abuse are never acceptable. There is no excuse, no defense, for emotional, physical, and psychological violence against another person. Then how does one justify these desires? It is simple to talk about consent, but there are those who assert that no one can ever consent to abuse. ... So how can I say yes to saying 'No!' but not meaning it? Am I not just mirroring the abuses around me by perpetrating these abuses in a fantasy that merely propogates a system designed to oppress and strip me of my humanity?

 

If my stated desires as an adult look like an abusive or dehumanizing interaction, and my partners and I make an informed decision to engage in it, it's all good, baby. Seriously. Acting out personal or historically wicked situations and/or abuses is my right. My sexual fulfillment is only as politicized as I permit it to be. I give no quarter to the juggernaut of political correctness when it aims for my libido, leaving behind a grease stain of shame and guilt."  (page 377)

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The Rape

“Go to the toilet. Take off your knickers. Stuff them in your mouth. Pee over your hand and masturbate until you come. Then come back and give me your knickers without anyone noticing.”

“Yes, sir.”

She did exactly as he told her. She was wearing a skin-tight rusty-colored dress. It was down to her knees with a very pronounced cleavage. The toilet was one of three cubicles in the Ladies room. It was clean enough, and the usual pub graffiti had recently been painted over. The woman lifted her dress up, and pulled down her panties. They were large shorts to avoid a VPL, but they were completely see-through red mesh. Her bush was trimmed just how her Master had instructed her earlier that day. She was wet from being ordered about all day. “Clean my clothes, make me tea, wash your hair with my piss....” 

She stuffed the soggy panties into her mouth, with the gusset against her tongue so she could taste as much as possible. She placed her hand under her cunt and emptied her bladder. The piss ran over her hand in rivers. She nearly came just from that, but she controlled herself. She then rubbed her clit furiously, feeling the pressure build until it came out in powerful waves. Even with the gag the lady in the next cubicle must have heard. She pulled down her dress and waited for the lady to leave.

Back at the table her Master took the panties and stuffed them in his pocket. His cock was rubbing against the inside of his shorts. The wet patch, which had slowly manifested while he was waiting for her, became a large soggy mess in his pants. He was sure the wetness was showing in his trousers now, the thought only made it worse.

The couple carried on like this all evening, chatting and laughing, eating and drinking. It was only when they were kicked out of the pub did they go home. 

The slave made a pot of tea and sat on the sofa. The Master sat next to her as she smiled at him and snuggled into his chest. He put his arms round her and pulled her close, kissing her roughly. She pulled away.

“Sir, I’m really tired. I’m sorry, it’s been a long day. Do you think we could just watch something crap on telly and snuggle?”

He grabbed her hair in his hand and pulled it roughly, forcing her head into his lap.

“Suck my cock, bitch.”

“Sir, I really don’t want to.”

“Like you have a choice, slave, do you want me to beat you?”

“I’m not playing. Red. Ok? Red!”

“What the fuck?” He pushed her off him. “What do you mean, red? Are you serious? You’ve never used your safeword and you use it now? Just because you don’t want sex? You really want to just snuggle? What about tonight? You had your fun, now it’s my turn.”

“Oh, come on. We are adults, we fuck all the time, we do not need to take turns like that. I’m tired, I just want to chill out.”

“You think all this is about you and your needs? You think I told you to orgasm in the pub because that’s what you wanted? I do it because it turns me on and it gets me fucked. So, let’s just stop playing around and fuck.”

At that she stood up and started to walk away. She was furious.

He grabbed her arm, turned her around and slapped her hard across the face. It knocked her off balance but she managed to stay upright. For a split second she just looked at him, shocked. 

He was just standing there, with a furious look on his face. She stepped backwards, slowly, one step, then another, until she was a few feet away from him. Anyone looking at her would see the terror in her face.

She carried on walking backwards, “I’m just going to go next door for a bit; we should spend a few minutes apart. Ok?” As she left, slowly moving one step at a time, she didn’t turn her back on him. He leapt forward and grabbed her by both shoulders. He shook her hard. He slapped her across the face. A hard back-hander. This time she fell, holding her cheek. She sobbed.

“Please, you’re scaring me. Don’t.”

He just stood there watching her. “Don’t what? Get what’s mine?” He spat the words out with venom.

She stood up quickly and ran. Or she tried to, the minute she had taken a couple of steps he was on her. He pulled her to the ground. He pinned her there, his arms forcing her down so she couldn’t move. She was crying and sobbing and yelling out for him to stop. 

With one arm across her chest and shoulders, his other hand lifted her dress to her waist. He then undid his belt, his button, his zip....

“No, please God, not that. I’m sorry, no, please.”

He didn’t stop. 

He pulled his pants down just enough to get his cock out. It was hard and dripping wet. He changed position, forcing her legs apart with his own. She was powerless against him. His strength far surpassing hers. She couldn’t move as he pinned her down with both arms. She was sobbing and turned her head away, desperately trying not to see the face of the man she adored turn monster. He lifted one hand and grabbed her face, turning it towards her.

“Look at me, bitch.  I want to see your face as I come.”

With that he thrust his cock deep inside her. He thrust it in and out, as she cried beneath him. He fucked her deep and hard, shooting his juices deep inside her cunt.

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