Perverts 'R' Us

Strange friendship

By Jon Brown ( MM/F, rape, rp )

"Shut it." The man spat out his order raising his hand to the comely woman cowering below him in the old settee.

"I beg your pardon Mister Bennet, are you threatening me?" she gasped, trying not to let him see how badly she was shaking.

The man moved in closer, towering above her at six feet four, "What the sweet fuck do you know about my family?"

The woman reached in her bag for the mobile, "Mister Bennet, sit down now before I call the police," she tried to sound assertive, though her voice cracked with fear as the man forced her to look down with his black stare.

"I'll take that." he said, snatching the phone from her sweaty hand like a bar of soap.

"No..I.." she shrieked as he threw it against the wall near the kick-bag and the weights.

"You fucking social workers are all the same," he hissed as she fell to her knees and scrambled for her battery and half a dozen other pieces scattered over the old carpet. "Just out to steal kids away from their parents."

"Rubbish, Mister Bennet," she tried to humour him. "Now please calm down." The phone was a loss. "I know this can't be easy for you Trevor but..."

"Steve..." he corrected her. "I told you my name's Steve, you stupid bitch."

Viewed through the gap between his legs, she eyed the door to the living room - her only escape.

"You know what you need, don't you." It was not a question. His mind was made up as he watched her pathetic efforts on all fours. "A good, hard fucking."

"Fuck off." she couldn't believe what she'd heard from his or her own mouth as she dribbled in her pantyhose.

"Gaz!" he called over his shoulder for his mate.

"Please don't Steve," she whimpered as she clambered to her feet, still clutching the phone battery in her hand as a weapon. "Please, my husband. I have to go." She tried valiantly to sound normal and calm, though it was too late.

Seconds later a second man, wiry and quick, with darting eyes, appeared to join him, ducking from her swing with the battery and punching her in the stomach.

The woman doubled like a cardboard cut-out and pitched forward onto the dirty brown carpet, her tongue meeting the salty thin pile, sweat ingrained from a thousand boxing workouts.

She tried to prevent their entry, contracting with all her might as her brown tights were ripped from her legs, along with her new tweed skirt.

"No, stop!" she whimpered as her eyes rolled with the pain. The two men laughed as they took it in turns to defile her while pulling the ruined tights around her neck, and bringing her nearer to the point of suffocation, now and then slapping her backside and squeezing her small breasts harder and without mercy until finally they allowed her to breathe again under the provision that she agreed to their oral demands.

It was 7:10 when they finished bathing and redressing her shaking form. Two hours had passed for her like a lifetime in hell and now she'd been released.

She traipsed toward her small Peugeot in the car park, conscious of the two men watching her from the top corner flat. After considerable fumbling, she located the door lock with her key, overcome by a strange sense of freedom as she gulped in the cool evening air of spring. Never had she felt so scared, and yet so alive.

For a few minutes, she sat in the car and checked through the contents of her bag. It was all there, and despite their thorough search, nothing was stolen. Gaz had been sure to make her witness his interest in her every personal detail contained within. Though none of this did he write down as he passed every number and address to Steve, all in order for the second man to revise, and then commit to memory.

They wanted her to return in a week, when she was better, or they threatened worse to come. So the birth of a dark friendship was born. The sudden realization of a latent desire hatched from deep within her. One from which she would come to experience a dangerous, though exciting, sense of complete submission. Her life in their brutal, but oh so capable hands.