Why can’t I just listen… (pt I)

Backstory build up. Rape fantasies get out of control when she is stalked, abducted, and wakes up in a strange place with a countdown clock.

My friends tell me all the time to cover my tattoos, change my location and to never show my face when I’m posting things online. “Prince, someone is going to recognize you and then it will be all over! What if you lose your job or worse, someone stalks and assaults you!?” my friend cries. “God I hope that happens so I could put it on my page” I jest. My friend looks at me with worry in her eyes and I *pretend* that my comment was a joke.

I post content online pretty often between a few different sites. I get off knowing that my body is free use to the internet- that anyone who wants to have their way with me can. I love to fantasize about all the sick and perverted things that could be done to me, relishing in the safety of it being just a fantasy.

I never put face photos on my pages but will occasionally video chat people to goon with. I typically don’t show my face but if the person seems sweet I will because, remember, I’m free use to the internet. I met this sweetie from a rape fantasy FL group and we role played over video a few times before I stopped responding. He was getting too pushy, too demanding, and spamming my photos and inbox- I blocked him and never thought about it again.

The weeks that followed the blocking were hell. I was always feeling like someone was watching me, no matter where I was. While watching TV at home I kept feeling like someone was behind me and usually chalked it up to my cats. Not only would I get that same feeling in public but started receiving little notes wherever I went. I’d be shopping in the grocery store and a random person, or child, would say they had a note for me from a friend; the notes were always some form of “Why did you hurt me?”, “I’m in love with you” or “Want our mutual fantasy to come true?” I began informing the police of my stalker, showing them every note. They said there is nothing they can do about someone sending me “love notes”.

Then I started receiving photos of myself out and about in my community from a blocked number: me at the grocery store, leaving the police station, watering my plants, drinking my morning coffee by the window. I went to the police again and their response, as if they’ve said it a thousand times that day, was “we will look into it”.

That night I come home and masterbate to calm myself down. I was feeling so angry and scared that I hooked up my *Mr. Hankeys* finger dildo to my machine and pounded my soul out of my body until I was just a husk on the floor. I needed to be completely overwhelmed so that I could empty my mind of my stalker. Moments later I receive a text- I’m staring at a photo of myself getting fucked with a caption reading, “I’ll see you soon, baby”. I lock all of my doors, talk myself out of calling the unhelpful policemen, and force myself to go to bed. “Fucking ACAB…” I mumble.

When I awoke the next morning, or so I thought, I wasn’t in my room but was naked on a floor mattress in a dingy looking basement. I look around and see gardening tools, ropes, cleaning fluids, and other items you would expect in a basement- and then there was me. I attempt to thrash and scream at the top of my lungs, but the restraints were barbed wire so I stopped moving almost immediately. I hear a beep and feel something enter my cunt. I look down and see a fuck machine at the end of the floor mattress and realize I’m being fucked by my finger dildo from last night. Every scream triggers a beep which only increases the speed. I try not to scream and begin to sob because the barbed restraints are cutting me, burrowing into my skin as I tense from each thrust. There is a large digital clock on the wall that is counting down from 2 hours.

*1 hour 30 minutes left*

The fuck machine finally stopped after my 2nd forced orgasm, leaving me in a puddle of my own shame and free flowing tears. My cunt feels like it was rubbed raw since I was dry from terror. “Thank god I orgasmed at least” I thought to myself. Suddenly a door opens and, in my dazed rape state, I see a blurry figure don me with a blindfold followed by a speculum opened wide and a wet, balled up cloth in my mouth. I realize the cloth is covered in piss and I start gagging. The figure grabbed me by my throat, to where I swear I heard it crack, and said “hi baby, I’ve missed you”.

*to be continued*

If you liked this story and want to read more lmk and I’ll write the next part! If you have any feedback I’d love to hear it so I can become a better writer 🙂