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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: daterape.txt (MMM/F, drugs, rp)
Authors name: Red Dragon (rdragon@ix.netcom.com)
Story title : Debbie's Date Rape
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
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Debbie's Date Rape (MMM/F, drugs, rp)
By Red Dragon (rdragon@ix.netcom.com)
***
The following is a true story told to me by a close
friend from work. She has had quite an adventurous and
sometimes painful sexual life. She shared this story
with me as a reminder that although rape can be an
exciting fantasy, when it actually happens to you, it's
not the turn-on you might expect. Only the names have
been changed... etc.
***
Back when I was younger, I had a fantasy about how it
would feel to be taken forcibly by a group of men. I'm a
petite blonde, 5'2" and 110 pounds. At the time of this
story, I was 20 years old, and had experienced some good
sex and a little great sex. I had a submissive streak in
me, though, and my rape fantasy bubbled to the surface
every once in a while. The story I'm about to tell is
about how I came to be rid of that fantasy forever, and
I'll tell it from my point of view, twenty years ago.
I was visiting my sister out in California, taking a
break from both Junior College and work to come out and
see the sights, and to get a first-hand look at the
lifestyles in L.A.
I had been with a few men before, and was always eager
for sex, even so much so that frequently I would test my
partner's stamina and re-cycle time. This perceived need
for more continuous stimulation was what drove me to
think about getting gang-banged from time to time. What
I didn't realize is how degrading and mechanical such an
experience could be.
One night, I went out to a club not far from my sister's
place. She had begged off coming with me, with an excuse
about it being a weekday night, she said, "You're on
vacation, so you can sleep in, so why not just go out by
yourself?" It sounded like a practical idea at the time.
But it was a Big Mistake.
I put on a bright red crepe dress, cut short above the
knee with a pretty pleated skirt. It was nice and soft
and fluid, and draped beautifully over my breasts and
hips. I wore just pantyhose and a smooth bra underneath,
since the material clung a bit and would show a panty
line for sure. Even my sister said I was looking good.
Anyway, at the club, the action was great. Lots of guys
looking over a lot fewer girls, good music, cheap drinks
and a big dance floor, my kind of place. I had hardly
sat down when I was approached for a dance, and when I
returned I found that wannabe admirers delivered three
different drinks to my spot. This was looking like a fun
night.
A group of three handsome, obviously well-to-do guys
took a big interest in me, and spent their time paying
close attention, switching off dancing with me until I
begged to sit and rest, and buying me more drinks than I
could possibly consume. I kind of liked being the center
of attention for three cute guys, and I teased them all
a little with my talk and my hot dancing.
As the night wore on, it was obvious that these three
guys were a team, and were going draw straws or
something to see who had to leave and who got to stay
with me. That was OK by me, since they were all fun to
talk to and dance with, and they kept me busy with all
of their attention.
Finally, it was last call and we were about to part and
head our own ways, when the guy named Brad asked if I
needed a ride or something. The club was only about six
blocks from my sister's apartment, but I had walked over
(no car) when it was still light out, and would now have
to walk back in the dark, slightly tipsy. Getting a ride
with them sounded safer than the alternative of walking
back alone, so I said yes. Another Big Mistake.
We walked out together, and Brad and one of the other
guys who's name was John led me, arm-in-arm, to their
car. It was a four-door Beamer, red, and my third
admirer Steve and John climbed in front, while Brad held
the door open for me on the driver's side rear. As we
drove out of the parking lot, I began to give directions
to my sister's place, but they turned the other way.
When I protested, they said they knew an after-hours
private club where we could pick up where we'd left off,
and that it was not far away. I pressed them to just
take me home, but Steve just drove faster and didn't
even acknowledge my protests.
We stopped for a light, and I opened the door to get
out. But I was stopped cold by Brad's huge hand around
my arm, pulling me back into the car. "Let me go,
please!" I said with a stern attitude, but he just
dragged petite little old me across the seat and onto
his lap. I could feel that he was hard, and could sense
the excitement in his tone of voice.
I was, as I said, a bit tipsy, and that little
submissive fantasy light went on in my head. Here I was,
with three cute guys in a nice car, and they wanted to
take me somewhere. I wondered how it would feel to take
them all, one by one, and have my multi-orgasmic
appetite satisfied once and for all. So I quit
protesting and turned around on Brad's lap and straddled
him, giving him a big, wet kiss. Another big mistake
(who ever said that whiskey makes you frisky was both a
prophet and a bastard).
Brad quickly got the message, and said "That's more like
it, baby." I slid off of him, back onto the seat. He
held me close and told me how beautiful I looked, and
how he and his friends were so taken with my charm and
beauty, and how they all just wanted to spend a little
more time with me, drinking and dancing. I should have
known that I was being schmoozed, but my radar was just
out of order or something. We pulled into a parking lot
of another club, and got out. It looked like their
after-hours club story was legit, so I wasn't on the
defensive and was, in fact, eager to get inside where
there were other people.
Steve led the way, and unlocked the door, holding it
open for the rest of us. I couldn't hear any music or
people inside, and I began to get this cold, clammy
feeling that they were up to something that I hadn't
planned on. Steve locked the door behind us, and left
the lights off, so that only the light from a couple of
beer signs behind the bar dimly lit the entire club
area.
I said, "This place doesn't look like it's open for
business or anything." They all just laughed, and Brad
said that it sure was, and that I was going to find out
first-hand. I struggled out of Brad's grasp, and ran for
the door.
Locked.
They walked over to me and Brad scooped me up in his
arms and carried me over to the pool table. Now I was
getting excited, mostly because I was scared, but a
little because I thought I knew what they were going to
do, and I had this fantasy...
Brad gently laid me down on the table, and I tried to
get up, talking loud now about just what was going on
here or something. Brad held my legs, Steve held my
arms, and John reached into his coat pocket for
something. He brought out a small bottle of something,
opened it, and shoved some up my nose. I snorted it back
out quickly, and thought, "Are they trying to get me
high on coke or something?" I'd never done coke, and
didn't know how it should have felt.
My rejection of the stuff made John angry, and he got
some more of the substance out of the bottle, covered my
mouth, and stuffed it up my nose again. I struggled and
squirmed, trying to break free or shake the stuff from
my nose, but eventually I had to breath, and I took the
whole load up my nose in the process.
I immediately went limp. My mind buzzed, as I felt
completely detached from my body. I couldn't even move a
muscle, and I couldn't feel a thing. No touching, no
pain, but complete awareness of my surroundings. I
thought I had died or something, but I was still
breathing. They put some more of the stuff in my nose,
and my involuntary breathing reaction sucked it up into
body. Steve said, "That oughtta be enough to keep her
down." Then they started in on me.
I couldn't even move my eyes, but I could see from my
side vision that they had lifted the skirt of my dress
up to my waist, and were taking off my pantyhose. I
could see them moving my legs to get the stockings off,
but I couldn't feel a thing. It was almost like watching
a movie or something.
I couldn't see clearly, but one of them (I think Brad)
dropped his pants and was obviously trying to work his
way into me. He got on top of me, but I couldn't even
feel the pressure from his weight. I could see myself
moving up and down in rhythm with his motion, and I
could smell his perspiration and beer breath. He pounded
my pussy for a few minutes, and made a grunting noise
that indicated that he had come.
The next one, I think it was Steve, took his place and
did the same thing, pumping me, then grunting. The last
one, John, wanted it a bit differently, so he grabbed me
by my waist and lifted me up in the air and down onto
his cock. While holding me by my hips, he worked me on
and off his dick, and I could hear the slurping sound as
my now cum-drenched pussy took him in again and again.
Still, I could only hear and see peripherally, and it
was totally weird that I couldn't feel a thing.
Completely numb. I couldn't even blink, and my eyeballs
were hurting because they were getting all dried out.
After they were done, it sounded like they got a round
of beers from the cooler and were winding down. I could
hear them comment on how tight and hot I was, and how
wet I got. John said that the way he worked me on and
off him was a lot like getting a great hand-job, and
they laughed and said he oughtta know about that, him
being his own best sex partner and all.
After they were finished, they picked me up and carried
me back out to the car. We began driving again, and
quickly wound up back at the first club. They carried me
out of the car, and sat me up on the side of the club,
just outside the door on the sidewalk. They said thanks
for the wonderful time, and told me that the stuff would
wear off soon and I could be on my way.
I sat alone for what seemed to be an eternity, then I
began to twitch involuntarily. This made me loose my
balance against the wall, and I slid down into a
doubled-over laying position. After a few more minutes,
I could feel the prickly sensation coming back to my
arms, legs and skin. I could move now, and I crawled a
little to a post, then used it to get me on my feet. I
could now feel everything, and I could tell I was sore
and bruised all over. Slowly, I walked one step at a
time back towards my sister's apartment.
My ability to walk smoothly returned quickly, and I
nearly ran the rest of the way to her place. I pounded
and pounded on the door, and my sister, Jean, opened it
up in near panic. After the expected "Oh my God's" and
"What happened to you?" she said we needed to call the
police.
I thought the same thing for a minute, then I hesitated.
Here I was, a good looking girl from out of town, went
to a pick-up bar by herself, seen drinking and dancing
with these men for several hours, and left voluntarily
with them. No last names, no license plate, no witnesses
to what they did to me, and apparently no witnesses when
they dropped me back off. Not a real good set of facts
or circumstances for a Grand Jury to ponder.
So, I talked Jean out of calling the cops, and agreed to
see her ob/gyn the following morning. He was very nice
and understanding, and said that I had been probably
been drugged by PCP, some sort of animal tranquilizer
that has the weird effect of leaving the body completely
numb but completely aware. He said that I had some bad
abrasions and a few bumps and bruises, especially where
I was grabbed around the hips, but that I would be OK in
a few days. He gave me a prescription for some
painkiller, and an antibiotic just in case.
I spent the remainder of my California vacation just
sleeping and gazing dazedly at the TV. I was still in a
half-trance when Jean drove me to the airport, and I
slept soundly on the plane. I awoke when we touched back
down, and as I walked to the baggage claim, it all
seemed just like a bad dream, that it really didn't
happen after all, but was some freakish nightmare. I was
back home now, and I could put the bad dream behind me.
Well, I spent the next few months hanging out with
friends after school or work, and never did get the
desire back to do some of the lone bar crawling that I
used to do. I guess I'm very lucky that I came through
it all with no permanent damage, either physically or
mentally.
Now I do have a heightened sense of awareness and
suspicion about newfound friends, and I'm cured of doing
stupid stuff like getting a ride back home from perfect-
strangers. I also never, ever wish for my old fantasy of
a gang-bang, since I now know that without the caring
and sharing that goes along with making love, screwing
is just a mechanical act.
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 21