~ erotica ~
{Trigger Warning: This is a rape fantasy.}
I carried my backpack over my shoulder, beleaguered from my long day and night's work. Though there were few contents, it still felt heavy, weighing me down as I tried to walk home.
I knew this path, this way I took every day or night. My long hours dulled my mind, but I could never forget the way home. Down two blocks, turn left. Pass the cheap gas station where beggars asked for change during the warmer days. No need to avoid the fried chicken and lake trout restaurant across the street, whose aromas often tempted me. Right after the corner store; too late to stop in for a few groceries. Five blocks more, and then home.
My feet moved without me thinking. My mind didn't register the actual short length, instead feeling my fifteen minute walk as a labor.
I loved these streets, the people in the them, the neighborhood which I adopted and the inhabitants who accepted me.
So I knew it wasn't one of them who did it.
Not Mr. Brown, who swept his front stoop every Sunday, watered his flowers in his window box every other day, and was the first to have his trash and recycling out, ordered and more neat than refuse should be.
It wasn't Dobs or Karl, the vets who rested their bones on the sidewalk in front of the gas station from March to September, and only asked for a little help when I could.
It wasn't Ms. Crystal, who owned the restaurant, and always wanted to put good food in my belly and a smile on my face.
It wasn't the Asian family who ran the corner store, whose kids I'd seen grow up in the five years since I moved to this part of town.
It wasn't my neighbors, my community.
It happened after a particularly long day. Sixteen hours of work with few moments of rest. My whole body ached.
My steps were slow, my march home more strenuous then need be. My limbs moved out of will to rest, knowing at the end of my journey a bed and soft covers would soothe their pain.
I didn't notice the van as it approached. Didn't hear the door open. Didn't know a man got out behind me. Didn't know he had a knife, wore a mask, and stalked me for a block before he attacked.
First I felt the pull on my hair, craning my head back. Then there was the knife on my neck, the scratch, the few drops of blood. My hands gripped his arm. My bag hung from my elbow. He dragged me to the open door of the van. Pulled me in. Closed off what little light from the dark night was left.
There were four of them. One driving, because the van kept moving. One to hold my arms. Another to hold my legs. The last, my original attacker. They all wore masks. They all wore gloves, leather. Boots, too. I guessed they were military. They communicated without words. Their cruelty was precise.
One pulled away my bag, pulled down my pants and panties. One by my head used his knees to hold my arms. He tore open my shirt. A knife split my bra. In a matter of seconds, I was naked and open.
I was pinned with my back on a mattress. It didn't move as they worked.
I heard the ripe of condoms, and was shocked at a flash of relief.
The one by my head placed his hand over my throat. I felt a knife against my cheek. I knew what he would want.
The one by my ankles bent my knees. All three flipped me over.
The one by my head grabbed my hair. Lifted my head. Pushed open my jaw. He shoved his cock in my mouth. I gagged, but took it. Tears trickled down my face. He rubbed a gloved hand over my eyes. Then smacked my ass.
The one by my ankles gripped my hips. Lined up his cock. He drove his dick deep inside my cunt. My hands held onto the edge of the mattress. He pounded my pussy hard and fast.
The one at center used a gloved hand to stroke his cock. Rubbed his dick against my ass. Used a cold slick finger to probe my asshole.
The one in my cunt stopped, pulled out, moved back. The one at center took his place. His dick circled my asshole before pushing, pushing. Sliding all the way inside me. More tears.
He didn't fuck my ass. He followed the rhythm of the man by my head. Rocking his body with mine, cock slid in and out of my throat but remained in my ass.
Then I felt two sets of hands on my hips. Heard a gasp of pleasure. The man who invaded my pussy took refuge in the asshole of his friend.
They all followed a rhythm, a beat they knew well. I took them, accepted my fate.
When they were close, each rising to a crescendo together, the van stopped. I heard the driver's door open and close. In the time it took him to walk around, they all came, grunts and groans filling the small room.
The driver opened the side door. He pulled me out onto the sidewalk. Another flung my bag out.
All four men stood over me. I cowered, hiding my face from the dim light of the night, from their eyes. I felt the four streams of piss hit my back, my ass, my hair.
When they finished, they got back into their van and left.
I laid on the ground for a few breaths before raising my head to figure out where I was. At once, I knew. The small tree. The bike rack. The number on the building.
They discarded me at my front door.
~ erotica ~
He dragged her behind him, her wrists bound, his sweaty bandanna covering her eyes. She stumbled over the uneven ground but always kept herself upright as he hurriedly led her to his favorite spot.
Stopping, he shoved her down to the ground, her knees landing on the wet earth, straw and mud now caking her shines. She heard him sit on something, not sure what, and felt as he tied her wrist rope to something as well.
He pulled the bandanna off her head, errant strands of hair now flying this way and that, no care in that he took a lock or two with his rag.
The Sun was setting in the background. The amber light gave a glow to his face, to the menacing, calculating smile that was plastered across it.
"Hello," he said before slapping her hard.
Gripping the collar of her tight shirt, he riped it open down the front. Taking out his knife, he riped down the back as well, exposing yet more skin. A few good tugs freed her bra to fall to the ground. Reaching down, he created a small slit in her also tight skirt. With a few good tugs, he sheered this fabric off her as well. Two more tugs with his blade and he pulled her thong off too.
She was naked, the pieces of her shirt hanging from the rope around her wrists looking almost comical in their exaggeration of her binding.
He put away his knife, folding it up and slipping it into his boot. He took off his hat and sat it next to him on the large rotting log. The width of the wood was easily four feet. The cowboy had found a natural notch in the tree, a perfect spot for him to laze against as he gazed on his prey.
Looking about, she saw where her wrist rope was secured, looped around multiple branches on the side of the log, branches that had once been roots snaked deep through the earth.
Pulling a tube from his other boot, the cowboy slipped a cigar into his hand.
"Do you smoke," he asked.
She didn't want to answer; she wanted to exude some semblance of control, of still having some power in this situation. He slapped her again.
"Do you smoke?" She remained quiet.
Quick as lightning, his blade was out and by her neck.
"You're pretty, which is why I picked you, but this is no fun when you're all quiet like. Now I can make you make noises in many different ways, many of which I'm sure you won't like, but if you keep me happy you may just enjoy your time with me."
He lifted his knife, pressing into her neck. She felt the scratch and gave a whimper as the tiny trickle of a few drops of blood kissed her skin.
"Now, do you smoke?"
"No," she said, quiet as a church mouse, eyes closed, stern resignation on her face.
"See, was that so bad?"
The cowboy brought the blade to his tongue, licking the small streak of red that had formed, before putting the knife away again.
"Me, I love a good cigar. Love the smell. The taste. And all the fun things I can do with it."
He gripped her hair and pulled her to standing.
"There are so many things I can do with a cigar." He brought her head close to his, then traced her lips with the tobacco.
"Open up." She parted her lips, her eyes locked on his.
"Close." She shut her mouth around the cigar.
"Now, can you think of something that looks a lot like a cigar? And can you image how it would like to be sucked? Would you be so kind as to suck on my cigar like that?"
She closed her eyes, then rolled her tongue around the end of the cigar. She used her lips, caressing the end. For a moment, she tried to forget where she was, who held her here, and the fate she knew soon awaited her.
"Yes, I like that." He pulled the cigar out of her mouth slowly, tapping her lips when it was finally free of their touch.
"But, actually, I prefer my cigars to be flavored."
Guiding her by her hair, he pushed her onto the log, her skin abraded over the rough wood. Pulling her legs apart, he brushed the tip of the cigar against her pussy lips, up to her clit and around and around the nub. Despite herself, she moaned at the touch.
"Hmm, you like that. Do you like that?" He pulled her head back, his gaze locked on her eyes.
"Do you like that?"
"Yes. Yes, I like it."
"Good."
He pushed her head back down and returned his cigar to her pussy. This time, instead of teasing, he used the cigar to enter her, pushing the tobacco up into her body so that it almost disappeared. She gasped, a moan she wished she could've held back.
"I also like my tobacco warmed before I smoke it."
~ erotica ~
The cowboy ran the cigar in and out of her pussy, fucking her with his tobacco.
Even with the scratches from the wood. Even with the fear of the moment. Still, she could not help but notice the feel of the tickle of her nipples with his gyrations. She could not help the growing wetness he no doubt felt. And she could not help the warmth building inside her as the cowboy kept entering her again and again with his cigar.
"You like that."
He laid his body against hers, never stopping the movement of his tobacco.
"I can hear it in your breathing. I can feel it in your pussy."
She bit her lip and turned her head away from him, but he grabbed her chin and pulled her eyes back to his.
"No, you will look at me, and you will know who is making you feel this way."
She closed her eyes, her orgasm so close to breaking throughout her body, so close to its more than welcome release.
"No."
Her eyes burst open.
"No."
It was enough. Though she could not admit it even to herself, she needed his permission, needed his approval, and he was obviously not giving it. She blinked back the tears forming in her eyes.
The cowboy pulled the cigar from her pussy in one last long movement.
"Nice and warm, just how I like it."
He brought the tobacco to his lips.
"Mmm, flavored quite nicely."
He released his grip on her chin, pulled his lighter from his pocket, and lit his tobacco. After some puffs, the end glowed red. He held the smoke in his mouth before exhaling across her back. She felt the heat slowly trail down her skin. She shivered at the subtle touch.
Her body hurt from her desire, ached at her wanting. She wanted, needed to cum, but how would she ever get permission? How would she ever find a way to fulfill her body's yearning? And why was this, and no other thought, the most important to her at this moment?
The cowboy grabbed her by her hair again, pulling her off the log and back to her knees in the mud. Her face was at his crotch level. Instinctively she looked towards the bulge in his pants.
"Don't worry, I won't make you suck my cock. I'll wait til you beg me to suck my cock.
"I see the look in your eyes, still obstinate, still believing you have any power. You don't, but go on believing what you will.
"By the end of our encounter, you will beg me to let you suck my cock, beg me to let you cum, and beg me to never let you go."
~ erotica ~
The cowboy puffed on his cigar, then brought his mouth to her lips. He kissed her softly, gently. The smoke entered her mouth, slipped from both their lips, and surround their faces in a haze. She was shocked by his gentleness, shocked that such care could come from this seemingly cruel man.
The cowboy puffed on his cigar again, brought his lips to her neck, and released his smoke under her chin. The heat rose up, kissing her skin, swimming up her face. To her surprise, the act felt calming, almost cleansing, as if his smoke washed over more than just her skin.
Another draw from his cigar, and this time his face settle into her now wild hair. His smoke filled her strands, the heat from his breath and his spent tobacco encircling her face. Now she felt another surprising emotion: intimacy. With this man who'd taken her. With this man who abused her. With this man she now felt herself drawn towards, wanting, needing.
And with that thought, she drew back. But he would not let her go far. His hand on her shoulder pulled her forward, pulled her face to his again, to his lips and to his kiss again with the haze of the smoke between them.
Despite her brain telling her to run away, to pull back, to fight, something in her melted. Something in her let it happen, let her want for this man take hold. Something in her relented, and though she could not utter the words, she knew now that she was his.
Leaning back, he looked into her eyes. And, somehow, she knew that he knew too.
His cigar now had a sizable head of ash. The cowboy rolled the chunk into his hand, preserving the cherry, and crushed the nugget into many small flakes. The cowboy took his ash filled hand and smoothed it over her chest, over her breasts, and up her neck. He grazed her cheek, traced the line of her chin, and then slapped her. This time, instead of seeing it as a punishment, she felt his hit as a caress.
The cowboy puffed on his cigar and blew his smoke over her skin. Up her arms. Puff. Across her chest. Puff. Over her shoulder, down her back. Puff. Into her hair. Puff.
And then he kissed her again.
With another head of ash ready for him, the cowboy again rolled it into his hand and broke up the ball into a multitude of flakes. This time he smoothed the ash over her back. As a line tumbled down, falling in between the crack of her ass, she somehow found herself smiling and giggling.
The cowboy picked up her chin and steered her eyes towards his. His face was stern, but then somehow he cracked a smile and lightly kissed her.
Laying his arm across her back, he pulled her body into his lap. Holding his cigar, he puffed, blew his smoke onto her skin, then trailed his cherry along her flesh, just barely not touching her. She could feel the heat as it loomed oh so close to her body.
And then the cowboy lightly tapped her skin. She yelped at each touch, the heat of the cigar like miniature burns to her flesh. After each of his touches, he wiped his hand over her skin as if rubbing the hurt away. He puffed, blew smoke over her back again, and then kissed her shoulder.
Releasing her body from his lap, she looked up and saw most of his cigar was gone. She could not help but feel sad, knowing this moment she spent with him would soon end.
As if sensing her thoughts, the cowboy brushed his hand against her cheek and cooed, "I know, but no moment lasts forever."
~ erotica ~
Her bound hands, which still rested in his lap, errantly brushed his crotch. She could easily feel his quite hard cock. She looked down at her hands, then up in his eyes. And without her even realizing it, the small quiet word spilled from her lips.
"Please."
Quick as a cat, he gripped her hair and tilted her head back.
"Say it again." This time the word was not a surprise to either of them.
"Please."
There was a desperation in her voice, a tone he more than enjoyed, the tone he had been waiting to hear.
With his cigar hand, his eyes never breaking from hers, the cowboy unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock. She felt it in her hands and instantly began stroking the shaft. Only the slightest of facial twitches betrayed the cowboy's pleasure at her touch, but it was enough for her desire to recharge anew.
She gripped harder and increased her speed. Up and down, up and down she ran her hands over him. But, all the while, his eyes still locked on her, there was one thing she wanted more than any other. And again, without her realizing it, the small quiet word slipped and fell once more from her lips.
"Please."
"Say it again." She knew her intention, knew her desire, knew what her body yearned for more than anything.
"Please."
He slammed her mouth onto his cock. She gagged as all of him entered her. Fumbling, her hands found his balls as he fucked her face relentlessly. His grip firm on her hair moved her head back and forth.
Though she couldn't see it, as he enjoyed her lips on his cock, his own lips wrapped around his cigar, enjoying his tobacco still. Even as she gagged and tears formed in her eyes, she enjoyed the feel of all of him in her.
He pulled her head back, all the way off his cock, and his lips found hers again, smoke bursting into her mouth. She held back her cough as he kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her.
Just as quickly his cock was again in her mouth. Her tongue danced around his shaft, trying to keep up with his furious pace. The heat in her body grew. She wanted, needed to cum. She would beg him, plead him for it, if only she could speak.
He stopped his thrusts, holding his cock in the back of her mouth, before slowly pulling her head off of his shaft, quarter in by quarter inch, her lips gliding down his cock. He then held her eyes towards his.
"Open your mouth." She needed only to still her breathing, her heaving breaths having kept her lips parted.
"Stick out your tongue." She obeyed, not understanding what was going on or what was to come next.
He held his cigar just above her, the flamed end so close to her face. He rolled his ash onto her tongue. She kept still, not wanting to break the ash, not wanting to ruin the moment, not wanting to disappoint him. The ash broke off in a nugget.
"Hold it there." She obeyed, doing so because she wanted to, because she wanted to please him, wanted to see the look in his eyes he held now at this moment for as long as he'd let her.
With his cigar hand, he brought his cock head to her mouth and without a word came, spewing over the ash she'd held there for him. He released her hair and pet the side of her head.
"Close your mouth." She did, the salty tastes intermingling. Her loins burned for this man, for this moment. She wanted to be no where else but here.
The cowboy leaned down, and whispered into her ear. "Swallow."
She did, the ash and cum gliding down her throat.
His cigar hand gripped her left breast. The fingertips of his right hand tickled down her stomach, past her abdomen, and lightly caressed her clit, the most delicate of touches.
"Please," she gasped.
"Say it again," he whispered.
"Please."
"Cum."
Her body trembled. Sweet warmth burst from her abdomen and shot throughout her frame. He squeezed her breast hard and played with her clit mercilessly.
"Don't stop," he whispered. Her face lay cradled in the crook of his neck. She yelped and moaned, her body gyrating from the dilation of her inner walls. She'd never felt this, had never been so lost in a person, in a feeling, in a moment, in a cum.
"Thank you," she heard herself whisper before somehow she passed out.
When she woke up she was in her bed. She heard no sound other than her breathing. Sun streaming in through her windows. She felt warm, naked. For a moment she wondered if it had all been a dream.
And then she felt grittiness in her bed. And couldn't remember where she'd put her clothes. And she felt, for the briefest of seconds, a deep burning desire for a man she'd never know.
