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We met on Craigslist. The "casual encounters" section the feds ended up taking down. It was the wild west of casual hookups. You replied to my post "Have you ever fantasized about being raped?" You had. We emailed back and forth for a few weeks before we met. You were very careful. Your husband couldn't find out. No bruises you couldn't cover up. Condoms must be worn. You insisted on a safe word, "California." No pictures could be taken (what a shame). Other than that, you left creative control up to me.
Kroger's parking lot off Mitchell Avenue in St Bernard. There you were. "Holly shit, she's actually real," I said aloud in my car. High heels, short skirt, tight low-cut white blouse. Slutty professional. The hood of your car was open and you were bent over looking in. I pulled up and asked if you needed any help. "A new battery, I think," the first time I had heard your voice, and one of the few I would ever hear it not under duress. I offered to drive you to AutoZone to get one. After a little hesitation, you slammed your hood and got in my car. Inane chatter was made as I pulled away. Your cleavage, your thighs, your smell. You were begging to be raped, you really shouldn't dress like that I tell you you're beautiful. You squirm. You start to think this was a mistake. Should've called AAA. I run a finger over your thigh and you shriek. "This is a bad idea," you blurt out. I'm sorry, I tell you. Won't happen again. You tell me to let you out. It's right up here I say. I turn down an industrial side street, nothing but vacant warehouses. "This is not the way to AutoZone, let me out!" you scream. Ok,ok I'm sorry. I pull over. You go for the door, but I'm faster and prepared. I grab both your arms. You're strong and fighting hard. You're screaming and crying but there's no one around. My dick had never been harder as I fought you and eventually subdued you. Your hands cuffed behind your back. Your mouth duct taped over, and finally your ankles secured. I pull you into the back seat and hook your wrists and ankles to a bar the seat. You were mine. I owned you.
The rest you know.
That was one of three rapes we did together. How about another?
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