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Message-ID: <63612asstr$1447848654@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: RavensDrkGothic@aol.com
Full-name: RavensDrkGothic
Subject: {ASSM} PO
Lines: 231
Date: Wed, 18 Nov 2015 07:10:54 -0500
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PO  (Rape, Torture)
 
    The  lights shone dully on the mean streets of Poughkeepsie.  The once 
largest  city between New York and Albany, now a shadow of it former glory.  
My  heels click clacking along the slate pavement, ringing off the building 
along  the main street, actually called Main Street.  My eyes darting to 
the  bright pools of light from the street lamps and the dim bands in between. 
  The weather seasonal for mid autumn.  My attire could have been a bit  
warmer; but for that fact that I didn't anticipate traveling like a street  
walker cruising for a customer.  The gray pinstriped suit, jacket and skirt  
very out of place with this area, this time of evening.  The bustling area  
of the courthouse, not any longer filled with workers and lawyers and there  
entourage of assistants.  Now the area had settled down to its other  life.  
Mean Street.  Cursing myself as I think back and question why I  am walking 
this area.
    The  call as the office was wrapping to close for the night.  The last 
officers  had left and just me and the clerks still in the building.  
Reaching into  my desk, I pulled out my Glock and clipped it to the inside of my 
skirt  waist.  Dropping my badge and mace and cuffs into my purse.  I tucked  
my dark blue button blouse into my skirt, smoothing it down around the  
waist.  Then pulling my jacket onto my arms, buttoning it as I stepped from  my 
office and leaving the address with the clerks as I bid them  goodnight. 
    Feeling  the doors close behind me as I tapped down the steps of the 
probation  office.  Turning left, I head north on Market Street, crossing 
Cannon and  my parking lot, to continue to Main Street.  Turning  right and east 
 onto Main Street, my stiletto high heels, sending waves of sound ahead,  
announcing my path as I walk in long quick strides up the slate path.   
Almost wishing the mall was still part of the street, with the wide open area;  
but having failed to attract customers, the city fathers opened it again to 
both  pedestrian and vehicular traffic.  That didn't attract many more 
people,  accept for the cars, stopping to call a girl over to the curb.
    Wondering  to myself, how I allowed myself to respond to this call.  As 
assistant  director of probation I had many times dealt with miscreants on 
my way to my  present position.  But now having grown soft with the leather 
chair that my  butt caressed each day, I felt a little fear as I walked 
along.  My long  strides stretching the skirt tight to my lower body.  My legs 
long shafts  of lightly muscled flesh, extending to mid thigh.  The skirt 
tight to the  movement of my legs.  Conforming to my upper thighs and to my 
cheeks with  each confident stride.  The jacket, defing the small swell of my  
breasts.  Not unattrative with my shoulder length hair moving with each  
step.  In daylight I would have been just another lawyer or paralegal  hurrying 
along the street; but now I could hear low whispers and some not so low  
commenting on my attire and charms.  A people I passed I met with a steady  
stare.  Some walking some hanging out in store fronts, others sitting on  the 
curb.
    If  it wasn't for the caller, I would have paged one of the po's to 
come and check  on the girl.  But Eleni, was a latin girl, that when she signed 
in to see  her officer, the room quieted and watched her.  Convictions on  
soliciting and prostitution were her reason for being there.  She was young  
and innocent looking; but her aura just sent out a charge.  In faded jeans  
and a tee shirt or a plain straight dress, she was a very delicious girl.   
Yes, I watched her myself when she came into the building.
    "No  fear.  No fear."  Repeating the words as I moved the four blocks 
in a  noisy drumbeat of my heels.  Stopping in front of the building with the 
 partly lit neon sign, "Hctel".  They rented here by the day and hour.   I 
looked up at the double wide door of the four story building.   Climbing the 
steep steps, passing a middle aged woman and young man walking arm  in arm. 
 No, not a mother and son, coming to  visit the city; but a  prostitute and 
john.  Walking to the front desk, I ask the clerk for  Eleni's room number. 
 Room 323.  Looking around, I decide on the open  stairwell in the middle 
of the lobby, rather then the dingy elevator.   A few tattered sofa and 
chairs and a line of vending machines filled the front  floor.  A couple of girls 
sitting as they sipped cans of soda from a paper  bag.
    Climbing  the stairs to the second floor, looking down it and then to 
the third  floor.  The hallways narrow and dully lit.  Graffiti and graphic  
pictures and words over the walls.  As I reach the third floor, I see the  
numbers on the wall, and turn left and follow the arrow, then another right,  
heading to the back of the corridor.  Glancing at each door as I walk down  
the hallway, counting 323 as next to last on the right side of the  
corridor.  The corridor cool and the odor not at all pleasant.  Past  the back 
Stairwell and then the Janitor's Closet.  The hotel fairly quite,  no yelling or 
screaming or moaning for that matter.  Smiling at the  thought.  My heels 
announcing my passage with a strident click clack, of my  measured stride. 
    A  wisp of sound, a slight squeak, and the odor of sweat, as my mouth 
is clamped  with a hand clutching a smelly sweet rag., pulling me quickly 
backwards off  stride.  Another hand clamping around my waist.  The steely 
cabled  arms, tightening quickly pulling tight to the person behind me.  My eyes 
 wide in surprise as my hands instinctively reach to the hands holding me.  
 Feeling myself being pulled backwards, heels dragging and feeling myself 
being  pulled into a doorway and through.  From alongside of me a bare foot 
kicks  at the door and slams it closed.  My body slumps in the grasp of the  
man.  Laying legs splayed leaning against the handrail of the  stairs.  The 
rag stuffed into my mouth.  Feeling my jacket pulled  open, fumbling fingers 
pop a button and I feel the jacket parted and my hands  grabbed as I weakly 
reach for my pistol.  A snarling laugh, as my head  slams to the side, 
banging hard against the cast iron railing.  Then as I  turn back weakly the 
hand comes across again and slams my head the other  direction.  I can feel the 
spittle on my cheeks, the warm wetness of blood  on my swelling lips.  My 
head burning with pain, as I choke on the gag,  half swallowed in my mouth. 
    My  eyes blearily trying to focus as I feel a naked body close to me, 
the odor of  sweat strong in my nose.  My jacket pulled down behind me 
pinning my arms  behind my back as I lie against the hand rail.  Two hands grip  
the collar of my blouse, pulling and ripping  downward, buttons and  eyelets 
ripping open with the violence of the hands.  Groggily my head  snaps around 
two times as the flat of the hand slaps against my left cheek and  then a 
back hand to my right.  My face ablaze in a fiery pain.  Mouth  filling with 
the irony taste of blood.  The gag still wadded in my  mouth.    Tears 
welling in my eyes, blurring my eyesight, as I  see a white fleshy figure 
crouched in front of me.  I can feel a blade  cutting my bra from my chest.  My 
small breasts springing free, the left  one squeezed hard by strong fingers.  A 
twist of his wrist and the breasts  pops free, fingerprints clear in the 
soft flesh.  A blade drawn across my  throat, then pricking at my breasts.  I 
can feel the warm blood on my  breasts as the needle pricks of pain stop. 
    Then  my skirt, the rending of material, as the tightness of my skirt 
is gone, my  skirt lying to either side of me.  A hand reaches between my 
legs, pushing  the thighs wide and grabbing at my vulva, grasping it and 
pulling it hard,  fingers crushing the mound of flesh.  Then the finger pulling at 
the band  of my pantyhose, pulling it from my waist then lifting my body to 
draw it down  over my ass cheeks,  pulling them down to my ankles.  The 
knife in two  quick movements cutting away the sides of my black panties.  
Grasping the  front,yanking hard, my ass lifts to allow the material to scrap 
across my cheeks  and pull free from underneath.  Sobbing quietly, from my 
swollen lips, I  feel my mouth being pried open and the crotch of my panties 
pressing against my  lips between my teeth, the front and back panels being 
tied around my  head.   The taste of my pussy and urine joining the taste of 
the dirty  rag.
    My  ankles grasped and pulled forward my body sliding down the wrought 
iron rail,  arms pinned in my jacket.  Then as I lay on my back, looking up 
at the  silhouetted figure against the ceiling light, I feel my legs pulled 
apart and  the figure looming over me as it lowers, feeling the press of 
hard flesh against  my vulva.  An expulsion of piss in fear as he presses the 
bulbous head  against my labia.  Leaning back for a moment a wad of spit on 
my pussy  added to the wetness from my urine and a thick finger pushes 
between my  lips.  Gulping in surprise and pain, as he jabs another into my 
tunnel,  thick fingers pressing on the walls and abruptly sliding out.  Then a 
stab  of pain as his hard cock pushes my lips open, slamming quickly against my 
wall  and into my semi-dry vagina.  The top of my head slamming against the 
 bottom of the railing, as my thighs close much to late.  Wrapping around  
his waist.  His cock starts to pump hard into my cunt, banging hard on the  
flesh, bruising it with the hardness of his body.  His  hands reaching  out, 
as he lays welded to my body, fingertips, crushing into the spongy flesh of 
 my nipples, twisting and pinching them in his blunt nails and fingers.   
Torso and hips twisting to escape the unslaught of his body.  The hard cock  
pounding  like a piston in a steady hard rhythm into the bruised flesh of  
my pussy.  His hands now grasping the railing behind me as he slams with  his 
body, pulling it into my cunt.
    My  eyes closed, wanting to pass out from the pain and anger of his 
attack.   His breathing loud and hard over my face.  Drops of spittle from his 
mouth  as he moans, as his scummy seed jets into my pussy, my very fertile  
pussy.   Two, three four pushes to empty his cum into my dark  womb.  My 
body cramping in response to his release.  My breathing  labored as the blood 
continues to seep into my throat, choking with humiliation  but more from the 
slow drowning on my own blood.  I can feel his cock  pulling free as he 
lifts his body off of mine.  my legs attempt to close  and pull up to my chest. 
 Trying to protect myself in the fetal position,  as I feel his fist slam 
into my cunt, the pain numbing as my legs complete the  position.
       A glob of spit on my face, and my eyes open, seeing his close to 
mine.  "Do  not pass out on me cunt."  His words ominous in tone and in his 
facial  expression.  Lying there, I watch as he rumbages through my purse.   
Taking the handcuffs, he handcuffs my wrists behind my back.  Cutting the  
jacket and blouse off of me.  My bare flesh rubbing on the rough concrete  of 
the stairwell.  Pulling my heels off my feet, he slides my ruined  pantyhose 
off of my ankles.
    Grabbing  my ankles, he started down the stairwell, my body bumping 
hard on each step, the  pain excruciating.    Finally reaching the first floor 
stairwell,  he blocked the door from inside, jamming it shut.  Then spinning 
me around  he dragged me over to the beginning of the railing, splitting my 
leg open as he  pulled the right one to lay on the stairs and the left one 
on the outside.   Quickly climbing back up, blocking each stairwell from 
inside.  His steps  coming down the stairs, I lay there trembling waiting for 
whatever might come  next.  Numb in body and mind.  My head aching from the 
repeated  blows.  Cheeks burning with fire, lips swollen.  The gag thick on 
my  now swollen tongue.  The taste of my fluids as nauseating  as the  dirty 
rag, with whatever chemical he used on it.  Laying waiting for the  monster 
to finish.  Not knowing what or why, just wanting it to end.   And not 
caring how.
    Sitting  on the steps, his eyes watching me as his hands work the 
safety on my  pistol.  Sliding the magazine out, counting the bullets, then 
inserting it  back into the handle of the pistol.   Looking at me and then slowly 
 walking over to crouch down.   His hands pulling my weakly reluctantly  
legs apart.  The gun barrel rubbing on my labia and then pushing into the  
moist hole.  The lubrication of pee, and spit and his cum, and maybe me,  
allowing the barrel to pass between my swollen lips.  The steel firm as my  walls 
grip the shaft.  Not knowing whether male or male extension, the  walls 
conforming to the intruding object.  His eyes watching mine as the  gun fucks 
my hole.  Strain on my face, as I seek to stop my body from  moving to the 
rhythm of the gun.  Moaning, quivering in helpless need as my  body spasms on 
the cold steel.  Taking the gun for a ride in my needy  cunt.  My hips 
rising in helpless want.  My mind crying in  terror.  Feeling the stickiness on 
my face as he rubs the cum from my cunt  on my face cheeks.  Laughing with an 
emotionless mouth.
    Sliding  the magazine out of the gun, as he jams it again into my 
pussy.  My hips  pushing to the intruder.  Welcoming.  Pulling the gun free, he 
takes  the magazine and shoves it into the gaping hole.  The steels casing 
and  bullets wrapped by the soft warm, moist flesh.  The magazine buried  
deep.  The nozzle of the gun, pressing on the small rosey hole of my  ass.  Not 
gently, the man works the barrel slowly into the virgin  hole.  The barrel 
pushing deeper, spreading the elastic ring.  When  the barrel is to the 
trigger guard, the man stops.  Taking my ankles, he  pulls them upright, tying 
them to the top of the stair rail.  Violated by  gun and magazine, buried deep 
in my lower holes, I lay on my back as he takes a  flair pen from my bag.  
Writing the words "Whore" across my forehead.   "Stupid Cunt" below my 
breasts.  And "Pig Bitch" over the sloppy  slit.  Finally, "Fuck Hole" on my ass 
cheeks.
    His  fingers reach down to massage my clitoris.  In spite of the pain 
and abuse,  or because of them, my pearl is raised and oh so sensitive.  The 
least  touch of his finger, causing my body to vibrate and quiver.  Leaning 
over  to look into my face.  His face etched into my minds eye.   "Cunt.  
You better learn your place and ease  up,       hear me ease up on certain  
persons.  Elena will tell you what you need to learn.  His fingers  slide down 
my body one more time, pinching and teasing my swollen clit.   Again 
spitting into my face, he opens my badge and wets it with the saliva, then  moving 
down my belly, pinched the swollen pearl, and jams the pin into and  
through the clit.  Piercing it with the most sterile of objects.  My  body raised 
up from the floor in pain, arching as the pain, pounds my brain and  then  
in waves, pounds it again and again.  Finally sinking into  unconsciousness 
and sweet oblivion.
    The  following morning, I lay there waiting for the first person in the 
stair well,  again through the afternoon and finally, laying there the next 
morning as Elena  finds me and kissing my lips, whispers that all will be 
okay.  Laying in my  slime and his as the EMS and Emergency Services finally 
free me.  The long  day in the hospital as they did the rape tests.  The 
discoveries of my gun  and badge and cuffs and finally magazine.  Then the 
results of the  tests.  That the bastard had an assorted variety of sexually 
transmitted  disease, and finally in the months to come, that I was carrying 
his evil  seed. 
    The  only saving grace, being the love that Elena and her slutty body 
surrendered to  me.
 
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