You’re walking home alone after a night out drinking with your friends. You’re wearing a nice top that you bought for the occasion and a short skirt with high heels. It’s summer and it’s a lovely night for a walk. You’re tipsy but not drunk, sober enough to get yourself home safely you think, despite your friends trying to convince you to take a taxi. It’s not worth it, you’ve told yourself; It’s not a long walk and you want to pick up some food on the way home too so you might as well just walk it. They don’t know the area as well as you either; you’ve lived here your whole life and always felt safe. You’re sticking to well lit paths and it’s a built up residential area; you’re confident nothing is going to happen. You feel safe.
You’re walking down a quietish street. There are plenty of street lights and parked cars, houses with curtains drawn and lights still on but it runs alongside a park area which is pitch black. As you near the end of the street you can see a white van parked up ahead. Something about it feels…..out of place. For a second you feel a little uneasy but, again, you tell yourself that you’re not drunk and that you have your wits about you. Almost as quickly as the thoughts enter your head, you’ve dismissed them. You’re preoccupied thinking about all the good times you’ve had tonight as you walk home, thinking about how hungry you are and what to get to eat, what you’re going to watch on Netflix when you get in and how much you can’t wait to take off your bra and get out of your high heels.
Each step you take is the same, nothing is out of the ordinary and you haven’t a care in the world until you take one last step; a step in front of the white van. The second you’re alongside the van I spring from the shadows as if from nowhere. In the microsecond it takes for you to even recognise something in your peripheral vision beside you and instinctively turn to see what it is, I’ve already got my hand around your mouth and a knife up to your neck. My momentum from rushing out of the park and towards you doesn’t stop one bit until you slam into the side of my van so hard that you gasp into my gloved hand as you hit the back of your head hard against the metal. You still haven’t even had time to consciously process what’s happening yet but every muscle in your body has already tensed and your heart is pounding out of your chest.
The instant you’re pinned against the van, you instinctively try to struggle but my hand is pressing over your mouth so hard against the side of the van that you can’t even turn your head to the side. You push against my body but it feels like an immovable object. You can feel a sharp blade pressed hard into your neck; you can feel it cutting your skin. Maybe it’s pure fear, the paralysing kind, or maybe it’s an instinct for self preservation but your body freezes and you make no effort to physically resist. My hand is smothering your mouth and your nostrils too so you begin to struggle to catch a breath as panic sets in. I’m wearing a balaclava so you can’t make out any facial features, only my eyes which you’ve barely had a chance to look at. You’re trembling now; this isn’t happening. It can’t be. Your eyes begin darting left and right, looking for help. Someone is going to see this, someone is going to help or intervene, surely?. But in the exact moment you need help, there is no one.
Everything has happened in a split second yet it somehow feels like an eternity that my hand has been pressed over your mouth. You can smell and taste the surgical latex glove I’m wearing as you begin to hyperventilate into it. All of a sudden you no longer care if the knife goes straight through your throat. If this is how you die then so be it. Literal fear for your life washes over you and you close your eyes, inhale what little air you can, tighten your diaphragm ready to let out the loudest, most blood curdling scream you can muster. You know the sound is going to have to cut through my huge hand so you need to give it everything. Whilst all this happens however, and as if I’ve sensed what you’re about to do, I lean in close and calmly yet forcefully tell you that if you make a sound I’ll kill you.
There’s something about my voice that cuts deep into your soul. I’m in control and you know, deep down, that I’m dead serious. I’m not bluffing. My words act like some kind of anesthetic; your mind simply goes numb and your body truly paralysed. You stop thinking about what’s happening or what’s about to happen next, let alone what you could do to stop it. In the space of a few seconds you’ve been experiencing the most profound, intense feelings, emotions and anxieties that are shifting and changing faster than you can keep up with as you struggle to process and react to the things that are happening to you. As my words still ring in your ear it feels like your brain has thrown in the towel, exhausted already. Your mind is simply empty now, but for my words. In this moment, everything is just happening TO you and you are simply experiencing it. Passive. Surviving. It’s as if I have taken your life from you already and you’re no longer in control or have any say over it.
It’s at this exact moment of vulnerability that I spin you around so that you’re facing the van, my hand still over your mouth, and I bring you in close to my chest. You bring your hands up to my hand and pull on it, hoping to relieve the pressure, but it doesn’t budge. You feel the prick of the knife disappear from your neck and see it in my hand as you watch me open the handle on the door to my van and then slide the door across. You look in and you see nothing, just a dark, dirty, empty wooden interior dimly lit by what little streetlight creeps in. I step into the van and practically carry you with me; you barely even have a chance to raise your legs up yourself as I step inside, your shins hitting and scraping the bottom as you hang from my arm, supported only by the force of your head pressed against my chest. As you bring your feet down to find your footing and stand to support yourself, you hear the van door shut behind you and all the light disappears from inside. It’s pitch black now. You immediately feel my hand go up your skirt and pull on your panties so hard they rip away; I don’t even slide them down at all. You realise at this moment, for absolute certain, that you’re going to be raped. It’s as if the anesthetic wears off as quickly as it kicked in and you once again don’t care what happens to you as long as it isn’t this. You want to scream but your panicked breathing has turned into uncontrollable sobbing and you’re not sure you can even manage a scream. You feel my hand release its grip for a split second but before you can even react, I am forcing something into your mouth. It’s soft and material, you realise it’s the panties that I just ripped from your body. I cram them into your mouth in their entirety, so far down that it makes you cough. You reach up to pull it out but once again I am too fast for you and I grab your hands, force them behind your back and bind them together with something cold and sharp that cuts into your skin. Yet again, in literal seconds, your life has been changed irrevocably.
Every survival instinct you have kicks in as you realise, muzzled and bound in complete darkness, that you are almost completely powerless now. You fight for your life, screaming into the gag but you barely make a sound. It’s too late for you now, the time for you to act was 5 seconds ago and now you are out of options.
I pull down on whatever I’ve used to bind your hands together with such strength it forces your legs to bend and you crumple to the floor. You hear the unmistakable sound of duct tape being sharply unwound and before you have a chance to move your head in resistance I’ve already put it over your mouth. I quickly wrap it around your head, sticking your hair in a way that painfully pinches and pulls various strands as you move your head. Next thing you know I’ve pushed your head forward and without the use of your arms you fall helplessly forward, your head slamming on to the scratchy wooden floor. You lay on the ground sobbing, screaming and shouting into the gag, pleading for me to stop but barely a legible word can penetrate the gag. Tears and snot stream down your face as you continue to scream in the vain hope that someone will hear you and intervene. You feel my hand grab you by the waist and hoist it upwards, hard enough to propel you onto your knees slightly and you feel your ass pressing firmly against my body. You know my next move is to take out my cock and penetrate you from behind but you’re not going to let this happen without a fight. You instinctively jerk away from me, straightening your body, rolling onto your back as best you can with your hands bound behind you, and begin kicking and flailing helplessly at my shadowy figure in the darkness. I effortlessly grab your legs, force your ankles together and bind them too; you try and struggle but you simply cannot match my strength. You once again feel the cold, sharp feel of plastic around your skin and hear the sound of a cable tie being pulled tightly. You realise that’s what’s binding your wrists also and how I was able to do it so quickly, even in the dark. I lean over you, grab a fistful of hair and slam your head hard into the floor and tell you that if you don’t move, you won’t get hurt.
The realisation of how powerless you are crashes over you like a wave. You really have no choice but to do as I say; to comply with my demands and hope that I stick to my word. Where you were once crying and screaming out of fear and to make as much noise as possible, your crying now turns to sobbing out of sorrow and despair as you know what’s going to happen and that there’s nothing you can do to stop it. You almost resign to your fate as you stop resisting, knowing it’s futile. Instead you just lay uncomfortably on your back, crushing your own hands and you cry in a way you’ve never cried before. You can’t believe this is happening. This can’t be real; you’re going to wake up any second. But this is real, and as your entire world is collapsing as you’re subjected to a kind of anguish you could have never imagined.
You hear a noise you can’t quite distinguish in the darkness, like a crinkling or snapping of plastic and shortly after you feel my hands touching your legs. It’s skin. I have taken my latex gloves off and you can feel my warm, sweaty palms running themselves up and down your bare legs. I’m caressing your legs the same way a loving, consensual partner might and it makes the touch of my hands against your skin unbearable; like a cruel kind of torment and prolonging before the inevitable. Maybe it’s the way I touch your skin, maybe it’s a final act of desperation, but you stop crying, almost compose yourself and begin to plead with me. “Please, please, please don’t.” you say. “Stop, don’t”. You’re barely able to talk after crying so heavily and the words are barely legible through the gag but the tone is unmistakable. You’re begging me to stop. My hands make their way to your breasts now, violently ripping the top open to expose your bra. You don’t even react and continue to plead with me in an almost sympathetic tone. “You don’t have to do this, please!”. Your eyes have adjusted slightly to the darkness by now and you can just about make out the skin tone of my hands and my mouth and eyes visible through the holes in my balaclava. As you plead with me to stop you can see that I’m paying no attention to your words; I’m too busy touching your body. I don’t pause my actions for even a second nor appear to look at your face at all. It’s when I lift up your legs, your ankles still bound together, that you realise there isn’t a chance in hell that I’m going to stop no matter how much you beg. You begin to sob uncontrollably once again as I push your ankles as far back as they will go, almost above your head and you feel the muscles in the back of your thighs burn. You can feel, and are reminded, that you aren’t wearing any panties. You are fully exposed to me and already feel violated beyond words. You feel the touch of my hand against your vagina and you want to be sick. I calmly and slowly rub my finger up and down your pussy for what feels like an eternity but is only a few seconds. I push more firmly each time, until my finger is inside you. You’re screaming helplessly into your gag the entire time. You feel like a worthless piece of meat being toyed with. As soon as my finger has found your pussy, soon after you feel my cock enter you forcefully. I’m big and it hurts like hell; you scream into the gag as loud as you can. You’ve never felt pain like this before; emotional and physical. It feels too painful to be real; this is a literal nightmare. I’m fucking you hard and fast and you have no choice but to lie still, crying and whimpering helplessly, defeated. My cock feels huge inside you and it feels so, so deep. Your whole body moves with every thrust I take and your face scratches against the floor, your hair pinching under the duct tape, your shoulders hurting where your arms have been twisted behind your back and bound. You’re hyper aware of your body and feel every single bit of pain. Your mind almost searches for other parts of your body that are hurting; anything to distract you from my huge cock penetrating you over and over. As I relentlessly fuck you, every thrust feels so huge, so forceful. You have never been so dominated, so powerless and out of control. You can hear me grunting and moaning, my breathing getting louder and heavier and you lay there disgusted; repulsed at the knowledge I am enjoying being inside of you. I begin to thrust faster and seemingly with more ease as you realise that your vagina is soaking wet. You are overcome with horror. Are you enjoying this!? Of course not, you tell yourself. You are sick to your stomach and want nothing more in the world than for this to end, for someone to open the van and rescue you, for me to drop dead. As your mind races, thinking about how much you hate me, hate this, about how this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you and how you will never be the same again, your body betrays you. Every thrust of my huge cock inside you is bringing you closer and closer towards an orgasm. You can feel it. You have no idea how this can be happening as on one hand you experience the most distressing, traumatic event of your life and on the other your pussy is throbbing and you can feel it building quickly towards an intense orgasm. It’s an even crueler violation than you thought imaginable. You tell yourself this isn’t happening but as the pleasure builds and and builds you can’t ignore it. You’re still crying, but you let a slight whimper of pleasure escape you and you immediately hate yourself nearly as much as you hate me. You feel my hands start roughly caressing your breasts as if your audible pleasure was an invitation for me to touch you more. With your legs resting over my shoulder, I pull your bra down exposing your tits. I pinch and pull your nipples and you sob even more. You love your nipples being played with during sex and it pains you to feel your body betraying you all over. It’s one thing to rape you, but to strip you of autonomy over your own body, it feels like the greatest violation of all. I am grunting now and you sense I am approaching a climax, as are you. You pray to God that I cum before you so that you can be spared the shame, indignation and humiliation of climaxing during the greatest trauma you’ve ever experienced but as I pull and pinch your nipples firmly whilst fucking you deeper and harder than you’ve perhaps ever been fucked before, you feel your orgasm approaching with unstoppable ferocity. Your crying intensifies but the tone of the sobs change, becoming elongated and rhythmic, aligning with each thrust of my cock that hits your g-spot. Your body is beginning to tremble as it braces for an overwhelming onslaught of pleasure and you’re unable to silence your moans that are emanating clearly despite the panties stuffed in your mouth. I grab your throat with my hands and squeeze so hard you can barely breathe, but you don’t even want to. You lack any control whatsoever, you are a victim of both violence and pleasure. Whatever happens, happens. As I fuck your pussy forcefully, squatting on my feet now and leaning over your body, my cock landing deeper inside you than you thought was possible, your eyes roll back in your head as the inevitable happens. You cum hard, harder than you’ve ever cum before, you’re body convulsing like crazy. You moan loudly, the pleasure is uncontrollable, undeniable yet also unbearable. I pull out, release my grip from your throat and you lay on your side, trembling in ecstasy on the wooden floor of the dirty van. You feel completely used and worthless. You bring your knees up to your chest and try to curl up in a fetal position but your bound hands don’t fully allow it. Your body is still trembling as it recovers from such intense pleasure. You sob, silently now; your body is unable to produce any more sound and you almost forget that I’m even in the van with you as you’re overwhelmed with feelings of shame and revulsion. You hate yourself and want to die.
After a few seconds you hear the van door open and you bolt awake, alert, as if awoken from a nightmare. Your reality is suddenly brought crashing back down to Earth; there was once life outside this van, before this happened. You see a quick flash of streetlight before you see my shadowy figure exit the van, illuminated for only the briefest of moments. You see that I’ve taken my balaclava off but I shut the van door behind me and plunge you back into darkness before you even had a chance to see my face or think about offering one last scream for help, not that you think your body had it in you. You lay on the floor of the van, still bound, and panic begins to set in. “What the hell is happening now?” you think. You begin to feel something warm dripping down your upper thigh; are you bleeding? You realise that I came inside you; you mustn’t have noticed in the moment. Your feelings of shame and degradation won’t leave you but more rational, pressing concerns begin to take root in the moment and you’re eager to let them. Where have I gone? What am I going to do next? Questions fill your mind faster than you can answer them. Am I just going to leave you in this van until someone finds you? But I’ve touched you with my bare hands and cum inside you. I’ve left so much DNA evidence behind. That doesn’t make sense; the van parked by the park, the planned attack, the knife and cable ties, the calm and terrifying confidence in which I’ve executed this attack. You’re unable to reconcile the knowledge of what’s happened with the idea of me leaving evidence behind so carelessly and you’re overcome with a deadly sense of foreboding. You’re not getting out of this alive.
After what feels like an eternity but was more like only a few seconds, you hear a door to the van open; not the same door as before, but one you can’t see. I must have gotten in the front, you realise. And then the engine starts. Once again, a nightmare beyond the scope of what you possibly couldn’t have imagined becomes painfully real to you in an instant.
I’m taking you somewhere…
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/qe702n/mf_pov_story_you_are_walking_home_alone_at_night