Message-ID: <60564asstr$1280977809@assm.asstr.org>
From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} -- "Warned Off" -- Uther -- (MF rom cheat rape)
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Date: Wed, 04 Aug 2010 23:10:09 -0400
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  This material is copyright, 2010, by Uther Pendragon. All rights reserved.
I
  specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping one electronic
copy
  for your personal reading so long as this notice is included. Reposting
  requires previous permission.
  If you have any comments or requests, please e-mail them to me at
  nogardnePrethU@gmail.com .
  All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public
figures in
  the background, are figments of my imagination. Any resemblance to
  persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.


  Warned Off
  Uther Pendragon
  nogardneprethu@gmail.com

  MF rom cheat rape

  "I'll do my homework after I get home, Dad,"
  Eleanor said. "If I can work tables four nights a
  week, you can't ask me to stay home with books the
  other nights."

  "Where are you going, and who with?" Bud asked his
  daughter. He thought he knew the answer to the
  second question.

  "Movies. Lee. He could hardly take me to the
  Rosebud. Now, could he?"

  "You ought to be still seeing other boys."

  "What do you have against Lee?" Eleanor could never
  see what Dad had against Lee -- Mom, was nearly as
  bad, although she was less heavy handed. Lee was
  considerate. When he'd gone away to college he'd
  let her -- asked her to -- date other guys. "Your
  senior year is special. I don't want you spending
  it as a wall flower." Now he was back for spring
  break, and she wasn't about to waste her few free
  evenings.

  "It's not Lee. It's only one boy. I'd say the same
  thing if you were spending all your time with any
  other boy." It was Lee. Bradley Pierce II was not
  the boy for his daughter, and he could never tell
  her why.

  "My God, Dad! I'm a senior in high school, not a
  third grader. Lots of my friends go steady." A car
  horn interrupted the rant. "There he is! Gotta
  run." And she grabbed her coat and purse to run out
  the door.

  Cindy always told him he was too heavy handed in
  dealing with their daughter. But Cindy didn't know
  why he was trying to get Eleanor interested in
  someone besides Lee Pierce. He had to keep her from
  learning why, keep Eleanor from learning why,
  especially keep Brad Pierce from learning why. He
  had prayed for the last year that Eleanor would
  keep her legs together until September. Lee went to
  college then, Harvard -- the Pierces always went to
  Harvard. Whatever Eleanor thought, he'd been sure
  that Lee would find another girl then. Blood would
  tell, and he'd been sure that Lee's blood wouldn't
  permit him to stay faithful to a distant girl. Who
  should know better than Bud?

  Well, either he'd stayed more faithful than either
  of his parents had been able to or he'd inherited
  his mother's ability to con. And Eleanor, from whom
  he'd expected resistance, had dated other boys
  while Lee was away. The romance he'd hoped for
  hadn't bloomed. Now, even if briefly, Lee was back
  for spring break, and she wasn't seeing anyone
  else.

  Twenty years before, he'd been the Pierces'
  chauffeur and Cindy had been their cook. They'd had
  an apartment over the garage. After he'd driven
  Brad Pierce to the train and come back, Blanche
  Pierce had found jobs for him. Often, those jobs
  had taken him upstairs under her supervision. One
  day, when the maid was off, she'd called him into
  her bedroom to rearrange some furniture. Beds
  weren't made to be moved in one piece. They could
  be taken apart, but who was he to tell her that?
  He'd enjoyed her seeing his muscles flex. He'd
  enjoyed seeing her in a robe over a nightgown. He'd
  enjoyed smelling the faint scent that clung to her
  bed. She had been looking at more than his muscles,
  though.

  "You have an erection," she'd said. His dick had
  been semi-hard, but he had thought his pants hid
  it. When he'd looked down, he'd seen that it wasn't
  all that obtrusive. He'd bent over.

  "I'm sorry Mrs. Pierce."

  "I'm not. Is that from me?"

  "I guess. The smell of the bed." He'd gestured.

  "You know how much effort I have to make to get a
  response from my husband when he's in that bed?"

  Well, if she wanted a response, he'd figured he
  would give her a response. After all, they had been
  in her bedroom, talking about his hardon. He'd
  moved closer, smiled at her, then grabbed her into
  a kiss. She'd pushed against the grab, but soon she
  had kissed him back. He'd loosened his hug to hold
  her breast. He'd kissed her face and down her neck.

  "Oh," she'd said, "I can't resist you when you kiss
  me there." Bud hadn't noticed all that much
  resistance before. Cindy had been in the kitchen,
  after all. A scream would have fetched her. He'd
  turned Blanche around -- 'Mrs. Pierce' had
  disappeared sometime while he was feeling her
  breast. He'd kissed the same spot from the back
  while opening her robe. The nightgown had been thin
  and lacy, providing a great feel of the hard nipple
  against his palm.

  Still kissing her neck, Bud had stepped back to
  unbutton his shirt. He'd used each foot to remove
  the shoe from the other. He'd figured that he was
  as ready as he could get while standing. He'd
  pulled off Blanche's robe. Finally ending the kiss
  on her neck, he'd pulled her nightgown up above her
  waist.

  "No!" she had said, firmly if quietly. He had
  picked her up and carried her to the bed. When he
  lay her on it, he had pulled the nightgown up so it
  covered only her arms and her head. As she
  struggled out of it -- he had noticed that she was
  pulling it up and not down -- he had stripped off
  pants and boxers. "No," she had said again as he
  climbed into bed. He had sat on her legs as he got
  his shirt and tee-shirt off. Then they had been
  able to look at each other and see everything. He
  had been wearing only socks and a watch; she had
  been wearing several rings. He had moved from
  sitting on her legs to kneeling beside her. He had
  sucked one nipple, then the other while pulling her
  legs apart. He had climbed into position.

  "I need more foreplay," she had said. Tough! He had
  been too hard. He had needed to get in her then.

  "Think warm thoughts." He had been able feel every
  separate hair against the tip of his cock as he
  pushed against her opening. He had always used a
  rubber with Cindy those days. He'd remembered
  seeing Blanche's diaphragm in her bathroom when
  unstopping the toilet. He'd thought that this would
  be his first bareback ride in years.

  Then he had been going into her warmth. Whatever
  she had said about foreplay, her cunt had been
  smooth and juicy around his cock. He had tried to
  move as slowly as possible to enjoy the feelings on
  his bare cock. When he had gone in as far as
  possible, he had looked at Blanche's face.

  "This is rape," she had said. But she hadn't been
  crying.

  "Good!" he'd thought. If she wanted a rape, he'd be
  happy to give her a rape. Pressed into her, he had
  raised one of her legs around him until it was over
  his shoulder. Then he had done the same with the
  other one. Balanced on his knees and shoulders, he
  had drawn his cock almost out and then driven it
  into her. As he took the deep rapid strokes, he had
  watched her face. It had changed from a smile to a
  frown. Stroking through her smoothness had been a
  thrill, but he had felt no great urgency. It had
  been maybe ten hours since he'd fucked Cindy.

  Then the urgency had hit him. He'd driven  harder,
  pushing her up the bed. His strokes had come faster
  and faster. Then he had thrust even harder, driving
  her up the mattress until her head had struck the
  headboard. He had felt his life pulse out of his
  cock. At his last pulses, Blanche had moaned.

  "So good," she had said. Then she had been
  wriggling under him and squeezing his cock. He had
  lain on top of her getting his breath back.

  "Can't you move?" she had asked.

  "Seems to me you liked the way I moved a lot."

  "So move now. And don't pretend I liked it. You
  raped me." If it came to defending himself to the
  cops, he'd figured he could quote 'I need more
  foreplay.' He hadn't thought it would come to that.
  She wasn't shouting. And it hadn't come to that.

  Mrs. Pierce had never said anything around others,
  and she had never avoided him. It had always been
  rape with her, which had suited Bud just fine.
  Cindy sometimes had asked him for something she
  liked; she had been, was still, capable of pushing
  him away when something he did hurt her. Since
  Blanche had always pushed him away, he could do
  what he chose. He had taken her sometimes in her
  robe and nightgown against a wall; he had bent her
  naked over the back of a big chair.

  When Mr. Pierce had taken a three-day business
  trip, Mrs. Pierce had slept in. Instead of
  breakfasting with her husband, this day, she had
  taken no breakfast at all. When the maid started
  vacuuming the living room, Bud had gone upstairs.
  She had really been asleep. He had stripped
  quietly.

  "No, don't," she had said when he tossed the
  blankets off her. He figured that she was really
  into that rape game that time. She had struggled
  but not screamed. That time, she'd been dry when he
  shoved into her, but he'd been horny as hell. Cindy
  had been on the rag, and he hadn't got anything for
  days. He had plunged in and out while Blanche
  wriggled under him and pushed on his chest. He had
  enjoyed using his strength to have his way with
  her. Too soon, he had gushed into her. He tried to
  settle down, but she had still been struggling
  against him.

  "You idiot," she'd said. "Can't you take 'no' for
  an answer?"

  "That's what you always say."

  "I don't have my diaphragm in."

  "So take care of it now." He hadn't liked her tone.
  He'd figured that she was in no position to get
  high-and-mighty after all they had done together.
  That had been his last time with her, though. He'd
  thought she was over her snit a month later when
  she'd called him up to do some more work on her
  room. He'd been wrong.

  "I'm pregnant," she'd told him.

  "Congratulations."

  "'Congratulations'? You idiot. It's yours."

  "So figure out some way to convince Mr. Pierce it's
  his." Bud hadn't wanted to have a child, hadn't
  even wanted Eleanor when she came. Blanche had
  managed to pull it off. Brad Pierce had even given
  the child his name. When Pierce had moved Bud and
  Cindy out, Bud had feared that Pierce was
  suspecting something. Couldn't be that, however.
  Pierce had really set them up in the restaurant. He
  and Cindy had made the Rosebud a success, but
  Pierce had made it possible for them to start. And
  he didn't seem to expect a freebie, or even a
  discount, when the Pierce family ate there.


  Eleanor sat quietly beside Lee as he drove. She
  didn't even comment that he wasn't heading for the
  movie theater. She really wished, though, he had
  chosen a different parking place. It was still
  light, and this would be make-out central in
  another two hours. Well, they were a couple. He had
  never pushed her limits, how far did he expect to
  go? How far was she willing to go? She suspected
  that she would be more willing when the question
  became immediate; she really liked Lee.

  "Look," Lee said. "We have to talk." She was
  willing to talk. She wasn't willing to talk about
  doing it. "I love you, Eleanor." This was standard,
  and so was the response.

  "I love you, Lee." It was even true.

  "Look, this has been a hard time for me. I've
  missed you." That wasn't how he'd planned to start
  off. It sounded selfish to his ears.

  "I've missed you, too." Next he was going to ask
  whether she'd missed him enough to go all the way.
  She'd missed him that much, but it was a big step.
  Couldn't he get somewhere more private? A girl's
  first time was special; the back seat of a car was
  bad enough; the back seat of a car with an audience
  didn't bear thinking about. And he'd been so
  considerate for so long.

  "Look, you've gone on dates?" Which was still
  beside the point.

  "Yes. And you have?"

  "A few mixers. They aren't dates. Guys come; girls
  come; they dance or talk. I've even started giving
  those a pass. The girls are nice, but they aren't
  Eleanor." This was getting further and further from
  the point. He was, face it, scared. "But it's
  different. Look, I'm getting the full experience of
  the first year at Harvard. It will never come
  around again, even later years. Mixers aren't an
  important part of that experience.

  "I want you to get the full experience of the last
  year of high school. It won't come around again,
  either. And dances and the prom are central to that
  experience."

  "I've had a prom. I was the date of the handsomest
  boy there."

  "You were the prettiest girl at the prom, but it
  wasn't your prom. I want you to have your prom.
  Which makes the next thing I'm going to ask
  selfish."

  "What's that?" Did it ruin a prom to go as a non-
  virgin? She knew plenty of girls who didn't think
  so.

  "I've missed you. Could we be engaged?"

  "What?"

  "Engaged. My fiancee." He was saying this all
  wrong.

  "Oh, Lee!" Did he mean that?

  "Let me say that better." He could hardly say it
  worse. "I love you, Eleanor. Will you marry me?"

  "Yes, Lee. I love you, too." He had meant that. She
  didn't mind his stuttering over the proposal. The
  confusion just meant that he saw this as important.

  "It means a long engagement. I come into a little
  money when I turn 21, but I don't think Dad would
  advance me a dime against that, not for our
  marriage. To tell the truth, they don't see what a
  great girl you are. It's horrible to think of your
  parents as snobs, but sometimes they are." And it
  wasn't as though Eleanor were really a waitress,
  which they each said wasn't the point. She was heir
  to a small business. So, she worked in it. Dad
  worked in the bond house his grandfather had
  founded. Lee didn't want Eleanor working her life
  in the Rosebud, but it would be nothing to be
  ashamed of. She contributed, which he suspected was
  more than Dad did.

  "I don't want to be a woman you're ashamed of." And
  his parents were nice when they came into the
  Rosebud. Mr. Pierce always had something
  complimentary to say to her when she waited on
  them.

  "You're a woman I'm proud of. And, speaking of
  ashamed, let's go somewhere else. It's not too late
  to see the second half of the picture. I don't want
  you to be seen parking here after dark. You're not
  that sort of girl, and we aren't that sort of
  couple." And they weren't that sort of couple. When
  he was closer to 21, and they'd been engaged for a
  while, then he would try to take her to bed. But
  they were a lifetime couple, not a screw-and-forget
  couple. He would take any odds that Eleanor was a
  virgin.

  "We can hardly go to the Rosebud."

  "That's one problem with your family. I'd like to
  take you out to eat, but the best restaurant for
  miles around is out of bounds. When you've
  graduated, maybe you can come up to Boston. I'll
  take you to the best restaurants in town, and
  nobody will know you."

  She would love that, although her parents would
  scream. She didn't even like going into other
  places; the owners knew her, and gossip would get
  back to the family. As they sat in the theater, she
  thought back to her embarrassment at waiting on
  schoolmates when their families came in. Lee had
  always been special, and for the longest time,
  she'd been torn between hoping he would notice her
  and desperately praying that he wouldn't. Even two
  years ago, he'd shown sympathy. He'd talked with
  her, but only at school. When they were friends, he
  had greeted her as a friend in the restaurant.

  By the time she got back home, Dad had gone to the
  Rosebud, Mom supervised the kitchen; Dad supervised
  the front of the house. While the place was open,
  they were almost never both home. Tonight would be
  Mom's "early" night. She would leave as soon as the
  kitchen closed at eleven. Eleanor could tell Mom
  about the engagement. Together they would plan how
  to break the news to Dad. He would close the place
  down at midnight and then supervise sweeping up.

  Eleanor paid her homework less attention than
  usual. When her mother got in, she closed her
  books. Neither parent was going to ask how much she
  had done tonight.

  "Mom, I have great news!"

  "Ace a test?" Cindy hoped it was that.

  "I'm engaged. Lee said we'd have to wait to get
  married, but he didn't want to go back without our
  being official."

  "I think it's much too early. I didn't go to
  college, and I've slaved all my life so you'd have
  the chance. Don't throw that away." It wasn't great
  news, even good news. It was the worst possible
  news. Well, elopement or pregnancy would be worse.
  So, really, would incurable cancer. But Eleanor's
  engagement to her half brother was way up on the
  list. So was telling Eleanor that she was Mr.
  Pierce's daughter.

  "This isn't going to keep me from going to college.
  Lee doesn't want an ignorant wife. He'd let me go
  to college even if we married today."

  "Well, there is more to college than the courses. I
  want you to have the social life, meet new
  friends." Marry someone other than your brother.

  "Oh, Mom!" She was sounding as bad as Dad. Well,
  maybe she needed parental permission to marry. (But
  wasn't that sixteen?) She sure didn't need parental
  permission to be engaged. "Well, it's late. I'll
  leave you to rethink your dreams for me. My dreams
  for me have already happened." She picked up her
  books and flounced to her room. Of course,
  engagement wasn't really the end of her dreams, and
  she planned a wedding -- would she invite her
  parents? his parents? -- until she fell asleep to
  dream of a marriage, and of a wedding night.

  Cindy sank into a chair and thought back. Once she
  had believed that the Rosebud was a reasonable
  penalty for Mr. Pierce's repeated rapes. She
  doubted that the local police would have cost him
  as much. Of course, Bud would have blamed her. And,
  for years, she had thought that Eleanor was another
  bright spot resulting from a dismal period. Now,
  Eleanor was a terrible risk, and all because of the
  restaurant. Bud was, always had been, demanding.
  Mr. Pierce had been worse.

  The first time, Bud had been gone on some errand.
  Mr. Pierce had found her cleaning up the kitchen
  from lunch prep.

  "About done?" he'd asked. "Are you enjoying your
  work here?" He had never before evinced any
  interest in her feelings -- her shape, sure, but
  not her feelings. Still, he had been the boss and
  times had been hard. If he had wanted to pretend he
  was a nice boss, she had been willing to play
  along.

  "Yes sir."

  "And the apartment? Is it all right?" She had taken
  him up to the apartment to show him that it was
  still in good repair. In the apartment kitchen --
  something she hadn't used very often since she'd
  been cooking every meal for the Pierces and eating
  with Bud in the kitchen -- she'd opened a cabinet
  over the sink because he'd been expressing
  interest. Her only worry was that he had suspected
  them of hiding booze.

  Sure, he'd been ogling her ass, but that had been
  nothing new. At least, there, Mrs. Pierce hadn't
  been around to notice. Then he'd grabbed her. She'd
  struggled, but not effectively. He'd dumped her on
  the bed, torn her panties, thrown up her skirts,
  and rammed himself into her. She'd always thought
  that Bud was rough, but Mr. Pierce had been
  rougher. When she'd clawed at his face, he'd held
  her by the wrists. He'd seemed to enjoy her
  struggles.

  When he'd gone, she'd been left with her thoughts.
  She'd figured that telling Bud might make him fight
  his boss. That would get him fired, and -- quite
  probably -- jailed. Bud had been likely to hit Mr.
  Pierce; he'd been certain to beat her. Reporting
  the rape to the police would have done no good. The
  police had known which side their bread was
  buttered on. And there had been the possibility
  that she had gotten pregnant. There was no way to
  prove it was Mr. Pierce's. Bud, though, would have
  believed it was, and that would have meant he'd
  have left her if she had told anybody. Mrs. Pierce,
  too, would have blamed her. She'd been certain to
  figure that the way of keeping Mr. Pierce from
  straying was to remove temptation by firing the
  Murphies.

  Cindy had kept quiet and tried to avoid Mr. Pierce.
  Avoiding her employer had been as impossible as
  persuading Bud to cooperate in looking for new
  jobs. The next time Mr. Pierce had come into the
  apartment, she'd traded her silence for his use of
  one of Bud's condoms. But he'd not always been even
  that cooperative.

  He'd found her in the kitchen when Mrs. Pierce and
  the baby had required the attention of both nurse
  and maid. She had known what he wanted, although he
  had always tried to pretend at first.

  "But you promised to use Bud's rubbers. I'm
  scared." He hadn't listened, hadn't cared. He'd
  only listened to what he wanted.

  "Don't be an idiot. Bud's in the garage. Do you
  want to be over his head?" No. She hadn't wanted to
  be in the kitchen with the windows looking out on
  the garage if Bud stepped outside for a cigarette,
  either. For that matter, she hadn't wanted to be
  with Mr. Pierce.

  "Can't I use my mouth?" He'd allowed her to start
  that way, and she had hoped to bring him to an
  orgasm safely. Instead, he shoved her head away.

  "Now turn around. Lean over the counter." He had
  raised her skirt, pulled down her panties, and
  entered her immediately. "Tight like this," he'd
  said. Her legs had been locked together by her
  panties rolled around her knees. She'd been dry,
  the only lubrication had been her spit on his cock.
  At first, he'd stood behind her. As it had gone on,
  he'd leaned over her, pressing her into the counter
  and mauling her breasts.

  When he had come, he'd fallen on her back. She had
  been pressed down, with her breasts pressed against
  the counter top and the sharp corner pressing into
  her thighs, until Bud had come out of the garage.
  Luckily, he hadn't looked towards the kitchen, but
  she had been clear that there would be no chance to
  douche until his cigarette was done.

  When her period had been two days late, she had
  taken all but one of the rubbers out of Bud's box.
  He'd commented on the last one Saturday night.
  Sunday afternoon, when he'd wanted some more sex,
  she had pointed out that the box was empty.

  "Too bad. But I'm too close. Maybe you can buy some
  Monday." Bud had put it off then. But, that night,
  when she had backed against his erection while
  pretending to sleep, he'd pulled up her nightgown
  and entered from the back.

  Bud hadn't enjoyed being a parent, and had never
  pushed her for another child. Mr. Pierce had a son
  whom he spoiled, and a daughter whom he sometimes
  over-tipped. That was the extent of his generosity.
  And he'd managed to escape dealing with his
  responsibilities. Cindy wondered, as she waited for
  Bud to come home, if Mr. Pierce had heard the
  latest news yet. Would he feel a little
  responsibility now?

  Eleanor woke from some sound at her window. Was it
  rain? It was dirt. When she looked out, Lee was
  there. She put on slippers and a coat and opened
  the window. When she climbed out, he helped her
  down.

  "Have you told your parents?" he asked when they
  were in his car and away from the house. "What did
  they say?"

  "I told Mom. She said no -- not maybe but no. I
  haven't told Dad about the engagement, but he's
  been against our even seeing each other."

  "Mine were worse. I expected it of Mom; she's such
  a snob. But Dad was just as bad. Look, we have
  another choice."

  "Not being engaged?"

  "We're engaged. I asked and you accepted. And,
  since I haven't given you a ring, you can't give me
  the ring back. Seriously, look, I've looked into
  this trust thing. Gramps spelled it out. The trust
  has to pay my tuition, whatever I do. The trust
  won't give me a penny directly until I'm twenty-
  one. There are, however, commercial loan companies
  which will give advances on such trusts. I didn't
  want to use them, because the rates are usurious."

  "What will you do?"

  "If they won't accept a long engagement, what do
  you say to a short one?"

  "Elope? Like this?" She gestured at her tatty coat.

  "Not that short. I don't have the money yet, and
  you don't have your diploma yet. But, when I go
  back, I'll look for an apartment for us starting
  this summer. There are lots in Cambridge. I'll see
  about the loan on the trust prospects. When I come
  back in June, we'll get a marriage license without
  telling anybody. We'll get married by a JP on the
  way to Boston -- it'll have to be before we cross a
  state line. Are you willing?"

  "Yes." This was her dream, if not quite all her
  dream.

  "It's not what I wanted to give you. It's not a
  fancy wedding, not a flashy engagement ring. It's
  not any engagement ring. The apartment wouldn't be
  the sort of house I'd dreamed of taking you to. One
  night in a motel room isn't the honeymoon I'd
  planned. I'm sorry. You'll probably have to work."

  "I'm used to working. Oh, Lee!"

  "Oh Eleanor!" The kiss was sweet, and later kisses
  were sweeter. When Lee's hand went inside the coat,
  it found a breast covered by nothing but a thin
  nightgown. They were both aroused when Eleanor had
  a thought.

  "What time is it?"

  "Nearly midnight. Do you have to get back before
  your father does?"

  "I'd better. Oh, I don't want to leave you."

  "I don't want it either. Well, after this June you
  won't. Not ever."

  "Not ever. Oh, Lee!"

  The end
  Warned Off
  Uther Pendragon

  The index to almost all my stories:
  http://www.asstr.org/~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm
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