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From: Shufflespeare <shufflespeare@dytrych.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.stories.erotic
Subject: {ASE} Story - Down Market Sex (MF, rape)
Date: Fri, 18 Nov 2005 01:24:08 -0800
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===================
For more stories like the one below, visit www.tyronelamayer.freeuk.com
Down Market Sex
A short story written by Shufflespeare, 4th March 2005
You join the conga-like queue snaking its way through the market. It's a
cold Tuesday afternoon and your husband is at work. You came down street to
pay a few bills but you thought you would browse the market for ten minutes
before heading back to the car. Who knows, there might be a bargain or two
to be had.
To your left you catch a glimpse of a pair of red high heels perched on top
of a box. The price says ten pounds and in that instant you picture yourself
wearing them with the outfit your husband bought you last Valentines day.
The outfit is really slutty looking. These shoes are perfect.
"I'd like the shoes." you say handing one to the unkempt guy standing with
his hands either side of his money belt purse.
He stops chewing his gum and leans toward you. He gestures toward the back
of the stall with his thumb.
"You like those, Miss, you'll love what I got in the back of the stall," he
says, a cocky grin on his unshaven face.
"Oh yeah?" you say, looking to where he points.
"Come have a look."
You squeeze through the stacks of shoe boxes littering the pavement and
follow him through a make-shift curtain, a picnic rug fastened to a broom
shank with bulldog clips.
It is then that you hear and loud thud and feel yourself fall to the ground.
***
When you wake up your eyes take a moment to focus.
You are in a kitchen. The room isn't big and looks like it could do with a
clean. Dishes sit piled in dirty water in the sink.
You realise your arms are restrained, rope binds your wrists behind the
chair you are sit on. The rope is tight and chafes your wrists a little.
To your right is a table, a modest affair with laminate top, the colour of
which went out of fashion in the sixties. The edge closest to you is folded
down.
You are also aware your coat is gone. You feel slightly chilly but it seems
pretty low priority given the circumstances. The crimson elasticated top you
were wearing is ripped at the front and the lace on the front of your right
bra cup is torn all the way down to the seam just above the underwire. A
bruise is threatening to turn an ugly blue just above your right nipple.
It is obvious you have been attacked but panic is the last thing to grip
your mind. There will be time to console emotions later on. Right now, you
have to figure out a way to get the fuck out of here and away from the
bastards who are trying to rape you.
It seems like you're in a scene from a movie as you try and stand and turn
enough to get a knife from the sink of dirty dishes on the other side of the
room. You want to cut the rope and find a way out. You don't know what is on
the other side of the door but it has to be better than waiting for whoever
has you here to return and finish what they started.
Your hand finds a knife among the dirty dishes in the sink you manage to get
your back to. You twist it in your grip and aim it toward the rope. It falls
from your hand. There is no way to pick it up off the floor with your hands
tied behind the chair like this. Maybe there is another knife in the sink.
Your hand searches as you bite your lower lip in concentration.
The sleeves of your top are soaked. The water is deep and a film of grease
floats on the top. You can feel it sliding between your fingers as you
search in the depths of the bowl.
It's no good. A few teaspoons and the odd fork but no more knives.
You close your eyes and sigh. Surely there must be sharp knives somewhere.
The drawer beside the sink opens and you feel inside. You strain your neck
to see what is in there. A box of matches and an empty box of cigarette
papers.
You try the next drawer around.
Bingo. Lots of sharp stuff.
You get the rope off in no time and rub your wrists in turn as you look
around to see where to go next.
The sound of someone climbing up stairs comes from behind the door you were
sat next to when you woke up. with little time to think, you grab a rolling
pin from the drawer you got the sharp knife from and tuck yourself on the
side opposite the folding table.
The door opens inward and away from you, so you will see whoever comes
through before they see you. You can bat them over the head with the rolling
pin, they will drop to the floor and you will shoot down the stairs to
freedom where you can alert the authorities and have this sick bastard
locked up.
You see the knob on the door handle turn and the door begins to open. You
raise the rolling pin. You hold your breath, tensing every muscle in your
body.
You visualise in your mind where you will strike and how quickly they will
drop.
The door opens but they stay on the side out of view. You wonder if they'll
ever shut the door or even look behind when his face appears.
WHAM!
A sickening but satisfying thud sends your captor to the floor. You stare at
his face to make sure he is out. His eyes are closed. It seems you hit him
hard enough.
Trouble is, now you have to step over him to get through the narrow doorway.
Even just stepping over him seems too close though.
Without further thought, you bounce, jumping from one foot to the other to
get over the top.
You foot lands on the top step as you feel his grip on your other leg.
You turn and go to kick him but he sweeps your foot out from under you and
you join him on the floor. His eyes are mad as he clambers on top of you,
booting the door shut and backhanding the side of your face.
He tears at your top, ripping the good cup from what is left of your bra and
dives to clamp his mouth over your tits, taking each into his mouth in turn.
You punch and slap at his head. He growls for you to stop and grabs you by
the hair.
Before you know you are back on your feet and are being dragged by your hair
across the carpet. While you recover from another backhander he binds you
wrists again. This time he climbs on a chair and fastens the rope between
your wrists around a hook on the ceiling. The feet barely touch the floor
when he pulls the rope tight.
What is left of your top is tied in a makeshift blindfold around your head.
You are naked from the waist up but you are pretty sure this will not be for
long.
The room is cold and your nipples have grown hard and the areola shrivel
slightly. You feel warm breath on them. Then a warm tongue. You struggle but
you are going nowhere. You hear him laugh.
"Stupid slut."
His fingers squeeze your right nipple. He rolls it between his fingers.
Squeezes it some more. And slaps your whole tit. Really hard too. You wince.
You hear him laugh again.
It is both tits. He has a wooden spoon or something and is slapping your
tits.
It happens again. His laughter is getting louder.
He slaps them over and over until you feel them burn and swell up in pain.
He bites your swollen nipples and you pass out.
You wake to find you are still suspended from the ceiling only now your
trousers are missing and he is trying to stuff what you think are your
panties, in your mouth. "You'll want these in your mouth. give you something
to bite on when it gets too much." he laughs. When what gets too much?
What is he going to do now?
He lifts one of your legs by the thigh and you feel his moistened hand open
your cunt.
Two fingers are replaced by three and then four.
You scream but the underwear, your underwear stifles the sound.
Your eyes roll back in your head when you feel the rolling pin nudging open
your cunt. Is he seriously going to try and fuck me with a rolling pin, you
think.
He has to keep spitting on it to make it go in and the pain is out of this
world. He gives up after a minute or two.
His eagerness to put something inside your cunt continues as his cock is
pushed where the rolling pin had been. You hardly feel it as the pain from
the rolling pin and his four fingers still has your pussy throbbing.
So there you are, suspended from the ceiling in a strangers kitchen being
raped in a suburb of god knows where by god knows who. Suddenly you hear a
noise from the other side of the door. It sounds like someone is knocking at
the door at the bottom of the stairs.
Relief swarms upon you as the guy pulls out and you hear him throwing his
clothes back on. He leaves you dangling from the ceiling as he makes his
getaway through the window.
You aren't alone long. The door at the bottom of the door is kicked in and
you hear several sets of feet on the stairs.
Your relief turns to outright joy as a policeman breaks through the door
into the kitchen where your naked and beaten body hangs from a hook on the
ceiling. You want to kiss him.