Rape Stories.

Foreword: Everyone please welcome our new contributor Dick Walker and his amazing rape story!

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Foreword: Dear Friends, please Welcome our fellow reader and now contributor Selwyn and his great rape story!  Enjoy!

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  My name is Nina.  My life is very different now, from what it once was. 

     I have just finished one "job" for the night.  Late evening, Lynnhaven Motel, on Ocean View Drive in Norfolk.  Strolling back and forth casually, until someone stops to look.  "Hi," I said.  "Want some fun?"  "Sure," he replied, a bit nervously.  He follows me to my room and gives me $60.  I go to my knees as he unzips his pants.  My lipstick smears his cock as I slide him in and out of my mouth, until he spurts onto the back of my throat.  I hold the base of his cock until my lips feel his final spasms, then squeeze out the final drops before I swallow. 

     "Have a nice weekend" I say as he leaves, letting him kiss me and smear my lipstick further. 

     This isn’t how my adult life started. 

—————-

     A few years ago I was nineteen.  One spring night I had just finished the closing shift at my college library, where I worked as a student assistant.  Just before we closed I was looking forward to meeting some friends at a local bar.  Hoping to meet some guys, I fixed myself up a bit at the desk, brushing my hair, and carefully putting on my favorite lipstick. 

     As I headed to the nearly empty parking lot, I noticed that the only vehicle near my car was an older Ford van.  Thinking nothing more of it, I went to my car and began to fumble with keys for the door. 

     I never got that far.  Suddenly, strong hands grabbed me from behind, clamping a hand over my mouth while dragging me into the van.  It only took a few seconds, and there was no one nearby to notice.  I tried to struggle, but he was much stronger, and I froze with fear when he shoved my neck into the crook of his elbow and began to choke me.  "You’ll be dead in a few seconds if you don’t stop," a quiet voice told me.  Terrified, I forced myself to stop struggling, and the pressure on my throat let up a bit. 

     I couldn’t see his face in the dark.  "Don’t try anything, you’ll regret it" he said again, as he forced me to the floor, face down. 

     "Please don’t hurt me," I begged. 

     "That’s up to you, slut.  Do what I say and you’ll be fine.  But if you don’t cooperate. . . "

     "What are you going to do with me?"

     "Shut up, you’ll find out soon" he said. 

     I could barely breathe with his weight on my back, forcing me to the floor, as he put a pillowcase over my head.  He forced my hands together behind my back and tied them, then tied my feet and looped them together with my hands.  I was helpless. 

     "Just to be sure you keep quiet," he said as he forced a rag into my mouth through the pillowcase. 

     My heart was beating through my chest, I could hardly breathe through the rag and the pillowcase, and I felt dizzy and faint.  I think I passed out briefly once or twice.  He was taking me somewhere.

     My mind was racing through the possibilities. . . would he kill me, was this a kidnapping, or. . . ??? I began to cry, this can’t be happening, I thought.  I thought of my family and dear 12 year old sister, would I see them again?  Will they ever know what happened?

     It didn’t seem as if we had gone very far when we slowed down, made a few slow, sharp turns, then stopped.  I heard him turn off the engine. 

     Again I felt the strong hands picking my up over a shoulder, and carrying me out the back of the van.  The next thing I felt was my body hitting a bed as I he flung me down.    

     "Still quiet?" said the voice.  "Doesn’t matter now, no one can hear you anyway."

     He rolled me onto my stomach as his weight pressed me down.  Strange, I thought, as he began to untie me.  He abducted me forcefully, yet before he tied me up he cushioned the ropes with a towel.  It seems as if he doesn’t want me to show any rope burns. 

     He only untied my feet though.  Hands still tied behind me, he rolled me over, my hands digging painfully into my back. 

     "Are you going to cooperate?" he asked.  I didn’t respond.

     Suddenly I felt an intense pain as something hit my stomach.  I cried out as loudly as I could, my screams muffled by the rag in my mouth. 

     "Going to cooperate" he asked again.

     "Mmmm, huhh," I moaned, as I nodded my head repeatedly. 

     He then took the rag from my mouth and removed the pillowcase. 

     Finally I had a look at my situation.  It seemed to be an old roadside motel, the kind with individual cabins.  The wallpaper was peeling, and there was a moldy smell to the air.  The only light came from the small adjoining bathroom.

     It was hard to get a good look at him.  It was dark, and I was crying so much that my vision was blurred.  "What are you going to do?" I whimpered, though it was beginning to seem obvious.

     He didn’t reply.  Instead, I felt his lips forcefully press upon mine as he grabbed my hair, holding my head still.  I tried to scream through his kiss, but the force of his face against mine and the grip on my hair prevented much resistance.  When he pulled away all I noticed was my lipstick smeared around his mouth. 

     "Red lipstick really turns me on.  I’ve been watching you for a while.  I saw you put it on tonight, that’s when I decided to take you."

     "No, please, don’t do anything to me.  Please let me go, I’ll be quiet."  I began to cry uncontrollably. 

     "You should have felt how hard I got, watching you open your compact, pull out that lipstick, and slowly slide it around your lips.  Come to think of it, you ARE going to feel how hard I got!"

     I cried even harder.  "Nooo, please, just let me go, don’t do this. . .

     His mouth again pressed down on my lips as he roughly grabbed my breasts.  He forced my legs apart with his knees, and I felt his cock pressing against my pelvis.  God no please, don’t let this happen.

     "You need more lipstick.  Where is it?"

     I didn’t reply.

     "WHERE IS IT?"  He yelled as a painful slap struck my face.  Panicking, dreading more pain, I managed to squeak "I put it in my purse."

     When he grabbed me he had the presence of mind to take my purse also.  Rummaging through it, he found my lipstick.

     "Put it on," he ordered.

     "I can’t, my hands are tied," I protested.

     "I’ll untie you if you cooperate, understand?  Do everything I say and you won’t get hurt."

     Before I could reply another painful slap hit my face, this time on the other side.  "Yes, yes, please don’t hit me again, please don’t hurt me, I’ll do whatever you want," I managed to say, crying hysterically. 

     He rolled me over onto my stomach as his hands fumbled with the rope.  Suddenly, I again felt his elbow around my throat, beginning to squeeze.  "Remember to cooperate" he said again.  Unable to speak with the pressure on my throat, I nodded desperately.    

     He rolled me over to my back.  "Put it on!" he said, handing me my lipstick.

     My hands were shaking so badly that I could hardly open it.  I dropped the cap and fumbled to screw it out.  I couldn’t steady my hands as I slid it over my lips, smearing it onto my cheeks as I continued to cry.  "Please don’t do this" I begged. 

     "More!  Keep putting it on!"

     I kept sliding it across my lips, smearing it with my tears as I saw him take off his pants and underwear.  His cock was getting huge, throbbing up and down.

     "Good, good, you’re getting me real hard" he moaned. 

     "Please, please don’t," I continued to plead.

     The lipstick was getting thick on my lips.  I could taste that distinct lipstick flavor.  My heart was pounding through my chest as I kept putting it on, hands still shaking, crying all the time. 

     "That’s enough for now.  Lie down"

     For some reason I retracted the lipstick and replaced the cap.  I remember thinking "why should I care?" but did it anyway. 

     He forced me to my back and began grabbing, tearing at my blouse.  I couldn’t stay calm, I screamed, I struggled, but again a slap hit my face.

     "Listen slut, I don’t want to bust up your face too much, but there’s nothing you can do.  I’m gonna rape you one way or another."

     He hit me again.  Crying, pleading "please don’t, please stop hitting me," I forced myself to sit still. 

     He ripped my blouse away, tore apart my bra and exposed my breasts.  I tried to cover them with my hands, but the threat of another slap made me slowly lower my arms, still softy begging "please don’t hurt me."

     Next I felt his mouth sucking my nipple.  Involuntarily, I felt the nipple become erect, and as he went from one nipple to the other I saw my lipstick, from his mouth, smear all over my breasts.  He was rubbing his cock against my pelvis, and I gasped in horror as I felt it against my vagina through my pants. 

     I gave up hoping to stop him.  "Just get it over with" I thought.  The faster the better. 

     He sat up and ordered "more lipstick."  I fumbled with the cap, extended it, and again began to glide it around my lips, smearing it with my tears. 

     I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t help staring at his cock, throbbing up and down, as he got more and more excited watching me put on that lipstick. 

     "Take your pants off" he ordered.  But I couldn’t force myself to do it.  I wanted to get it over with, but just couldn’t move. 

     "You’d better cooperate you fucking slut" he yelled, as again a slap hit my face. 

     I cried even harder.  I dropped the lipstick.  "Bitch" he yelled.  "Pick it up, put it on!"

     But my hands shook so badly I couldn’t hold the lipstick.  I dropped it again.  "Here you stupid whore!" he snarled as he grabbed me by the hair, pulled my head back, and forced the lipstick around my mouth, over and over. 

     "NOW GET YOUR PANTS OFF!"

     I tried, but couldn’t, I was crying hysterically, and shaking so much that I couldn’t get hold of the zipper.

     Strong hands grabbed me again, tore at the zipper, ripped it open, and pulled the pants off my legs.  The next thing I felt was my panties tearing away.    

     Again I wanted to look away, but couldn’t take my eyes off of his throbbing cock. 

     I collapsed on the dirty bed, too dazed to resist or even sit up as he forced my legs apart and put his cock against my labia.  Though I wasn’t a virgin, I wasn’t too experienced with sex.  "I’m too dry, he’ll never get it in me," I thought, but it brought no comfort.  What would he do in frustration if he couldn’t get it in?

     My entire body tensed as he pushed his cock against me.  My vagina just would not spread far enough to let him enter.  "Aaahhh, no please, it hurts, please stop" I begged and pleaded. 

     To my surprise he pulled back.  "You’ve got a real tight cunt there.  Gonna be hard to get in."

     Again he forced my legs apart and put his cock against my vagina.  "Please, please stop" I whimpered in pain as he pushed against me. 

     Again he couldn’t enter me.  Fear rose in my chest as I thought of what he might do.  He was beginning to lose his erection in frustration. 

     "Get off the bed and on your knees" he ordered.  "God no, not that," I thought, but it’s better than getting beaten to death.  Anything to get this over with.

     "More lipstick bitch!"  He thrust it into my hand, and again I struggled through my shaking hands to apply it to my lips.  

     He then grabbed me by the hair with one hand as he held his cock in the other, forcing my head back and his cock between my lips.  I had never done this before, and was so disgusted I thought I might vomit.  I could taste his foul sweat and the salty bitterness of his drops of pre-cum, mingled with that distinct lipstick flavor, as he forced me to squeeze my red smeary mouth around his cock.  As he thrust in and out between my lips I felt it get bigger and harder.  "Good, good, suck it" he moaned.  I felt him stiffen more.  Maybe it’ll be over soon, though I dreaded having his cum in my mouth. 

     But he didn’t cum.  Suddenly, quickly he pulled out, yanked me up by the hair and threw me back on the bed.  Instantly he thrust my legs apart and again I felt the tip of his cock against my labia.  "God no, he’s going to try again," I thought.

     This time my wet salvia and smeared lipstick gave his cock a bit of lube.  He cruelly spread my labia with his fingers, and I felt a horrible ripping, stabbing pain as he slowly forced his cock into my dry vagina.  "Oh god this hurts!   Stop!  Please stop!" I cried, sobbing hysterically as he entered deeper and deeper.  Involuntarily I began to struggle again, but that made it hurt more, so I lay still, crying and repeating over and over "please, please stop it." 

     I don’t know how long it lasted.  It’s a series of individual memories. . . the constant stabbing thrusts into my vagina, his sweaty odor against my breasts as he bruised them with his sucking and grabbing, the pressure of his lips forced against mine as we both got smeared with my lipstick and tears.  "Please stop, please, you’re hurting me," I kept crying, more and more faintly. 

     Then he began thrusting faster and faster.  Moaning, and kissing me harder, forcing his tongue into my mouth against my clenched teeth.  The stabbing pains in my vagina got worse as he kept thrusting.  "No, noooo, stop it stop it god this hurts, please stop. . ."

     His entire body got tense and he began to shake.  He pressed his lips against mine as I felt his cock throbbing.  I became nauseated as I felt his hot cum spurting into my vagina.  "It’s finally ending" I thought, though it seemed like he’d never stop cumming. 

     Finally he collapsed, and the thrusting stopped.  Kissing me one final time, he withdrew, and I felt a final pain as he pulled his cock out of me.  I felt his cum dripping out of my vagina onto the bed.

     "You’re a good little fuck" he said. 

     I don’t remember how long I lay there.  He stayed, just looking at me.  Then he went to the sink to wash up

     Finally I sat up, and saw myself in the mirror.  I was a horror of smeared lipstick.  Surprisingly, I wasn’t very badly bruised from his slaps.  Apparently he knew to do it just enough to hurt but not leave many marks. 

     "Get in there and clean up" he ordered.  For once something I wanted to do. 

     "Will you please let me go now?" I pleaded while washing. 

     "No, you little slut, we’re just beginning.  That’s just your breaking-in.  You’re gonna be my little whore.  You’re gonna turn tricks for me."

     A stab of despair hit me like a fist.  I wasn’t over yet. 

     "You can’t make me do that!"

     "It’s your choice.  Either you do it, or I’ll rape your sister."

     More horror flooded through me.  Did he know about my sister, or was he making it up?

     This last hope faded as he went on.  "You live on 23d Street, your sister’s name is Karen, she has dark hair like you, and the same sexy full lips.  I’d love to see her put on red lipstick and suck me."

     My despair deepened.  I had no choice. 

     He made me stay in that room for three days.  Occasionally he left, but tied me tight and gagged me first, and always returned within half an hour.  He fed me fast-food take-out. 

     In a few days my light bruises healed, and he made me wash repeatedly.  Little evidence remained of his crime.

     Finally, one evening he said "It’s time to go.  Got a truck stop to work." 

     He threw some clothes at me, a knee-length skirt and a tight blouse, not too slutty surprisingly, but enough to show off my breasts.  I felt deeply humiliated at the thought of parading around a truck stop dressed like this.  He made me get dressed, then ordered me to put on make-up.

     "But I don’t have any," I pleaded desperately.  My lipstick was nearly destroyed from his horrific rape.  I feared what he might do to my sister if he didn’t get his way.

     "Here.  I got it for you."  He handed me a plastic drugstore bag with make-up, eyeliner, shadow, nail polish, and of course, deep red lipstick. 

     "Revlon, Cherries in the Snow," he said.  What kind of man knows this much about make-up?

     I began to cry again.  But I had to protect my sister.  Slowly, full of fear but with steadier hands, I applied the face powder, did my eyeliner and shadow, and my nails.  It was a deep red like the lipstick.

     I dreaded the next step, remembering how aroused he got with lipstick.  He saw my hesitation and made a move to hit me again. 

     "No, no please, I’ll do it" I begged.  Slowly, deliberately, I removed the cap, and extended the lipstick.  Opening my mouth, I carefully glided it around my lips.

     "More, more, keep putting it on," I heard, fear welling up in my gut at the thought of being raped again. I saw his cock starting to bulge under his pants. 

     "Now the gloss" he said, tossing a clear lipgloss at me.  Again, slowly and deliberately, I applied the sticky gloss to the deep red lipstick, giving them a high shine. 

     Reluctantly I looked at myself.  While my clothes weren’t too slutty looking, my face looked like a real whore’s.  It looked like my deep shiny red lips simply begged for a cock between them.

     He pushed me into his van and we headed out to a nearby truck stop.  My mind was numb.  Somehow I took one of his cigarettes, even though I had never smoked.  Wasn’t really thinking about anything as I tried it, seemed almost perfectly natural. 

     Soon we arrived.  "Here we go.  You’ll know what to do.  I’ll be watching, and remember, little Karen will get raped worse than you if you don’t cooperate.  Think I might try it up her little asshole."

     "No, please, I’ll do what you want."  Filled with fear, I strolled out into the lot, feeling very conspicuous.  I saw him watching me from a dark corner.

     It didn’t take long to get noticed.  A large, burly trucker approached me.  I wanted desperately to run but knew I wouldn’t get far. 

     "Hi" I said, trembling.

     "Want to spend some time with me?" he said. 

     "Sure."  I followed him to his truck.  He actually seemed kind as he helped me into the little room behind the cab.  I was shaking so bad I could barely make it. 

     "Here" he said, thrusting $50 into my hand.  He pushed me to my knees, dropped his pants, and stood there waiting for me to start.

     This was one of the hardest things I have ever done.  When I was raped I was bereft of any will, whenever I hesitated I was forced.  Now, I have to do it voluntarily.  Suppressing my nausea and disgust, I took his cock in my hand and squeezed my lips around it.  I slid it into my mouth, feeling it grow bigger and harder with each thrust.  As with the rape, I tasted the lipstick as it smeared all over his cock and my face. 

     It didn’t take long.  Moaning more and more, his body stiffened, and I felt his cock begin to throb between my lips as he held my head so I couldn’t pull back.  His hot salty bitter cum spurted to the back of my throat. 

     "Swallow it babe" he said as he squeezed out the last drops.  I forced myself to gulp it down, suppressing the urge to vomit.

     "Better fix yourself up before you go, don’t want to look too obvious, you little cocksucker" he said.  Looking in a mirror, I saw lipstick smeared around my mouth.  Wiping it off with tissue, I numbly took out my lipstick and re-applied. 

     We did this for a few days. . . going to the truck stop at night, returning to the seedy motel, back out at night.  Most guys just wanted oral, but occasionally they fucked me.  My captor took all of the money, and when I didn’t make enough he’d rape me again. 

     One day there just wasn’t anyone to pick me up.  I strolled around the truck stop lot, and nothing.  When I came back with no money, he didn’t show much anger, but said it was time for a change. 

     I had no idea what this meant.  When we returned to the motel he made me put on more lipstick and told me to go to my knees.  By now this was a familiar ritual.  I had given enough blowjobs that I no longer gagged, and thought I could finish it quickly and be done.  His cock shined red with my lipstick and saliva as my lips glided up and down it.

     Just when he was at his hardest, he pulled me up and ordered me to take off my skirt.  I complied meekly, by now I had been raped and fucked enough that I didn’t bother to struggle.  I lay on my back expecting the usual ramming into my vagina.  But this time he did something different.  He had a jar of Vaseline that he was wiping onto his cock.  Good, I thought, he wants it easier this time.  But I was wrong.  Suddenly he grabbed my leg and shoulder and rolled me over on my stomach.  I then knew exactly what he wanted. 

     The terror of the first rape returned.  Crying, sobbing, pleading, I begged him not to, I promised the best blowjobs ever, but no mercy.  He forcibly spread my buttocks and placed the tip of his cock against my anus.  "This is for not trying" he said, as he shoved his cock in my asshole. 

     I screamed, I sobbed, I pleaded, but it continued.  Again and again his cock rammed into me, the pain worse than the first rape.  "Nooo, please, stop, you’re killing me" I cried, but it only seemed to excite him more. 

     Again I don’t remember how long it lasted.  Finally I felt his entire body stiffen, felt his cock surging in my anus as his cum spurted into me.  "Don’t make me do this again," he warned as he withdrew.

     I now felt totally defeated.  Raped and sodomized, forced into prostitution, I had nothing left.  I didn’t care what happened next.

     We spent the next few weeks driving through the Midwest to the east, finally arriving in Norfolk.  I turned tricks at rest areas and truck stops along the way. 

     When we arrived in Norfolk he got a room at another seedy motel in what was essentially the red-light district.  Sailors from the nearby navy base cruised through every night looking for hookers.  I was back to work.

     One day my captor simply disappeared.  During one trick he must have taken off, leaving me in the seedy motel.

     With nothing left to do, having lost my former life, I continued on as a whore.  I didn’t care about anything any more. 

—————-

     I had just finished a "job," and bid my client a phony goodbye, letting him kiss my smeary lipsticked mouth.  I looked in the mirror, wondering who this person had been before she was abducted, beaten, raped, sodomized, and prostituted. 

     I brushed my hair, put on a little powder, then slowly applied a deep red lipstick.  I exited the room, lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply, and strolled down to the street to await another "job."

Author of this great rape story is Selwyn.