Trigger Warning: This Erotic Literature is a rape scene. Any and all similarities with real life people/events are entirely coincidental. This is a work of pure fiction that came from my mind.
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It was well and truly dark when I came upon her property. My mind was on a high that no drug had ever taken me to before. I was the predator. I was the Alpha. In this situation there would be no mistaking that I would be completely in charge of this little slut and her conniving ways. As I settled in to wait on her little foreign car to pull in, my mind wandered.
Three weeks ago she had come into the bar I frequent with a group of friends. Almost immediately she caught my eye and I caught hers. NY mind had kicked in and started wheeling towards the idea of taking her home… Little did I know, her game of cat and mouse had only just begun.
She, by far, was not the leader of her group but it seemed she was held in high regard. Her smile was like seeing a one million candle power lamp after only seeing darkness for years. Lips the color of rose hips, skin that had not been touched – it seemed – by the harsh rays of the sun. Her eyes were akin to geodes turned inside out, brown as earth in the middle with a striking blue grey and other highlights in the rest of the iris. Her hair was a rich, vibrant brown that my fingers begged to run through.
She had let me know, in subtle ways, that she wanted me. A soft glance here, with a bat of the lashes; a thrusting of her ass or ample bust there, as if displaying what I might like to sample.
I saw my chance when she finally made her way to the bar. The whore brushed so near to me that I almost grabbed her but, being nothing – if not a gentleman, I let her flirt go unanswered as she completed her journey to the bar’s facilities. I drank my rum and coke and lost myself in imaginings while she was in the powder room. Several would have left me weak from rushing blood had my self control slipped even a bit. I had cracked my neck and ordered another drink when I heard, over the din of the bar, the restroom door open.
What a vision she had been then! She had adjusted her shirt to show me more cleavage. Her eyes, previously unadorned, now had mascara enhancing her lashes. Her eyeliner had been applied with a steady and studied hand.
“May I have the honor of buying you a drink, miss?” No sooner had the words left my lips than her eyes were upon me, licking me head to toe in one regal sweep. Her smile was a magnesium strip, searing my retinas.
“Sure, hun,” said she. “I could always use a drink”
She waited, so close I could have touched her, until her drink had arrived and then sauntered away with a thankful smile upon her lips for me.
It continued this way for a few days. I found myself waiting, on bated breath, for her presence. Every night she would sashay into the bar, as if she owned it and, every night, I would buy her some drink or concoction. I had learned, through our budding companionship, that her name was Emily and that she was new in town but had friends that had lived here for quite some time.
At a week and a half I hit a barrier. I had asked her to dinner the night before and she jilted me, claiming errands the next day. I had nodded my head and asked when she was free.
“Never, Joe. You’re sweet… but you’re my bar room buddy.”
I had barely maintained the smile on my face at that point. “That is perfectly fine, Miss Emily. A moment with you is worth being your ‘bar room buddy.'”
As carefully neutral as I had been, that night, on the inside I was infuriated! How dare this whore, this slut, this insignificant tramp insult me this way? Nothing but kindness had been shown to her and how does she repay me? She spit in the eye of my prose and dignity.
My plan, although unbeknownst to me at that moment, had begun spinning itself into an orb weaver’s web. In its simplicity was its beauty. It came together steadily over the next week and a half and, much like the orb weaver’s trap is nigh invisible to the fly. it was so well camouflaged in my actions and words that she knew, in her simple, plebian night walker’s mind, that I had been sincere in my acceptance of her rejection.
I had been dealt the final ace the night before I sprung my trap. She allowed me to drive her home after having made the poor decision to have one too many drinks. For me, this was fortuitous. For her, it was akin to a fly handing a spider the final piece of thread for its web.
I came out of my wanderings and stood to stretch my legs slightly before quickly lowering myself back to cover. By memory and feel alone I felt my tools draped around my waist. Four lengths of cotton ripe and a monkey’s fist knot that had been modified into a gag hung at my side. I felt near my right ankle and grinned as I felt the sharp, heavy weight of the blade there. I compulsively checked everything once more. Everything was in place. Everything was moving perfectly.
As if choreographed with the last bit of my check, I heard and saw the stupid whore pull into her drive.
Shnk!
The blade made a satisfying sound as I freed it from its sheathe at my ankle. From my vantage point I could reach her as she unlocked the door. I knew that I could cover twenty yards in less than three seconds.
The blade in my right hand and the left on the gag I took a deep, silent breath. I heard and saw her key enter the dead bolt, my legs tensed and quivered in my crouched position. Just as the key turned in the doorknob I shot from the wood line like a bullet. My timing was impeccable. Just as the door swung open my hand clamped over her mouth and my blade met the skin if her pretty little neck. She was a good girl, at this point, and only a whimper and a single tears escaped her body.
“Shut up, you filthy slut,” My voice came out rougher than a rasp. “And you will keep breathing normally.” I pressed the blade more firmly against her neck until I saw, in the dim light, a single drop of blood roll under the blade’s edge.
The shore actually shuddered as the blood rolled its way down her neck but made no noise. I felt wetness on my hand and my lip curled in disgust.
“Stop your crying, you filthy bitch!” I growled through my teeth into her ear, earning me another whimper.
I moved my hand then, slowly, and grabbed the monkey’s fist. I palmed it to her mouth and held it there for a minute. When she clenched her teeth together I growled impatiently and held her nose with my left thumb an fore finger. After she gasped for air I shoved the gag in her mouth, secured it behind her head and wrapped my hand in her brown locks.
“Bedroom,” I instructed her. She whimpered once more but, fearing the blade at her throat, did not struggle like I knew her quivering body wanted to.
Once in the bedroom I kicked the door closed and had to smile as my gaze landed on the bed. With four sturdy posts the queen sized luxury was just the right size for my purposes.
Reveling in genius and plans that were proceeding perfectly, I never saw or felt the heel coming. Murphy, as always favoring the unfortunate and damning the prepared, came roaring into the room to give this little whore mouthed slut the backbone to resist.
Her aim, however, was not quite true. Her kick, despite raking me by surprise, hit me in the inner thigh, bruising it and my ego simultaneously. As my knife hit the floor the harlot spun away from me, had eyes half mad and seeking vengeance. Her hands formed claws and she came at me, fast as a wild cat and just as fierce. Her shriek of rage, muffled as it was, likened itself to that of the oldest banshee. Had I been any less confident or prepared I might have been injured beyond the scratch, gouge really, that attempted to blind me.
My arms went around her, pinning hers, and I found myself chuckling as I tightened them around her torso.
“Maybe you are not the torpid strumpet I assumed you were, Emily.” As I spoke I saw recognition in her eyes and the bitch head buttes me.
Reeling back, hand on my cheek, rage clouded my vision for a moment. I found myself on the bed with her, my right hand squeezing her throat, my left reaching for a length of rope.
“Filthy, over privileged slut!”
My left hand bound her right much more adroitly than it had a right to and secured it to the nearest bedpost. I smiled as her burst of resistance died down and made quick work of binding her other limbs despite having to slap her for trying to kick me.
After securing her I slowed my pace. I checked the bindings to ensure that they were not over loose or over tight before smiling at her. She struggled, I watched. A thin sheen of sweat had coated her face and what I could see of her body. I felt myself harden at the sight and sound of her struggle. I watched her face as she went from scared to angry and, when I bent to pick up my knife, pleading.
“Sh, sh, sh – my pretty little whore,” I felt and almost grotesque grin stretch my lips as I let the tip of my blade drag up her leg, pausing just above the wait of her shorts. “You’ve nothing to fear… yet.”
I slid the tip of the blade under her waist band and carefully slid it to a side seam. After slowly and expertly separating the fabric from itself there I did so on the other side, as well, before removing them. I found, then, that she wore nothing underneath.
“You absolute fucking whore!” My voice was laced with rage and, as I peered at a pussy that was – to my surprise – wet and waiting, lust.
I restrained myself and slipped the tip of the blade from her thigh to her hip and across her body. I noticed her quiver and looked up to see fear in her eyes. I heard myself chuckle before letting the blade slip up the center of her shirt. I made quick work of this and her bra and stood back to admire my handiwork.
Single column bindings secured her wrists and ankles to the four poster bed. Spread eagle the way she was her skin shown with a sheen if sweat earned by her struggles and fear. She would twitch, now and then, as if testing the strength or tightness of her binds before relaxing a bit once again.
After admiring for a moment I laid my hand at her clavicle and let it glide over her sweat slicked body. As I did this she attempted to shout at me and squirm away from my touch but, with the gag and bonds in place, she could do neither. As my hands slid over her breasts I grabbed them roughly, almost growling at the feel of them in my hand. As I pinched her nipples and rolled them in between my fingers she forced a moan into a cry of protest.
“Hmmm…” I made a thoughtful noise in my throat and my ego stoked erection became almost painful as I made her react against her will.
My hand continued its journey south and I watched her get more angry and scares as her body quivered instead of jerking away. As my hand found her pussy she jerked and bucked, making indignant sounds. I moves my hand slightly and forced her to be still before continuing my exploration. Ignoring her clit, for the time being, I inserted my middle finger in her drenched folds and groaned at the slick warmth there.
“This will feel good…” I was speaking more to myself than her but chuckled all the same as she screamed what would obviously be obscenities at me, if not for the gag.
After delving in her folds for a few more minutes I allowed my fingers to find her clit. I smiled when she went stick still, staring at me with a mixture of loathing and other emotions. As I pressed firmly on that pearl of pleasure and massaged in a circle her hips bucked into, not away from, my hand. At this point she screamed/moaned before sobbing a bit as I continued. After another few minutes of this her body clinched as she involuntarily orgasmed, sending a rush if her juices flowing onto my hand and the bed.
“That’s a good little slut,” I grinned and licked her nectar from my hand as I stood up.
I slid my pants off while looking into her eyes, when they were open, and laughed when she gasped as my cock sprang free. It was almost painfully erect at having made this bitch climax against her will. I crawled onto the bed and positioned myself over her.
“Now it is my turn,” as I spoke she fought me and I was forced to pin her hips with one hand while taking my shaft in the other and rubbing it along her slit.
I groaned as she attempted to struggle but, with the combination of orgasm and her prior fighting, it was a half hearted effort. I guided my throbbing erection to her entrance and, while she was slightly complacent, rammed my cock into her wet and ready, if not entirely willing, hole. Her tightness surrounded me and I almost instantly climaxed. I gritted my teeth and forced myself under control before continuing to take out my anger and rage at her on her pussy. It seemed, as I continued, that she could not make up her mind on whether or not she should – or could – cry in pain, enjoy what I was doing or try to fight back.
In the end, it did not matter. After a while the pleasure center in my brain overrode all other emotions and I slammed my body into hers one last time before I exploded inside her. As I did I felt her body clench around my cock and a mixture of indignation and pleasure ripped itself from her throat as she orgasmed for the second time.
The next thing I was aware of, the gag had, somehow, come loose and the first words I heard her say, that night, made me instantly hard all over again.
“Do. That. Again.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/gzcwmg/bar_room_buddy_mf_forced