("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
`6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`)
(_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-'
_..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
(((' (((-((('' ((((
K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
_________________________________________
Scroll down to view text
--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2005. 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.
--------------------------------------------------------
Voices
by Peter Pan (uds3@hotmail.com)
***
A nineteen-year old girl simply goes to the right diner
at the wrong time! Definitely anything but love at
first glance! (M/F-teen, nc, rp, v)
***
As far back as he could remember, he had heard them.
As if the attorneys, counsellors, psyches, not to
mention Father Calvin himself from Drew's hometown of
Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin - were ever likely to
understand?
"Isn't he one smart six-year old Frank?" his mom had
declared one morning after he had completed a five-
hundred piece jig-saw puzzle in just under forty
minutes. The voices of course had told him which pieces
to pick-up. He could never figure out why no-one else
ever seemed to hear them.
The first time the teachers had caught him with his
hands inside eight-year old Katie Anderson's little
bear-print panties, they put it down to innocent
childhood experimentation. Certainly Katie hadn't
seemed too concerned about it. Julie Marshall however
was a significantly different proposition. It was the
distressed cries emanating from the deserted gymnasium
that had caught the ear of the head janitor one Tuesday
afternoon, some thirty minutes after school was out.
Pushed face-downwards across a rolled-up piece of
matting, Drew had been in the process of spanking the
ten-year old girl's bare bottom, having tugged her
white cotton briefs unceremoniously down below her
knees.
"Quite a sight, I have to say," commented the Janitor
when debriefed by senior teaching staff. Truth is, for
the next few months he didn't once need to open up a
solitary Penthouse. The wide-screen image of young
Julie Marshall having her sexy and decidedly crimson
little butt paddled like that, was seared on his mind -
if not other places.
Questioned at length, Drew simply could not understand
the problem.
"The voices told me to do it," he had replied quite
honestly.
"I wouldn't worry too much Mr. and Mrs. Collins," the
school's consulting psychologist had said. "Many
children, girl's especially, have imaginary friends,"
he clasped his hands together while adjusting his
glasses and smiling at both parents glibly. Frank was
wondering if he had ever entered a John Ritter look-
alike competition.
"It's not the Imaginary friends we're worried about Dr
Shand," Dianne glanced across at her husband for
support. "It's... how do I say this?," she looked
around for some literate inspiration, "It's... what our
son was doing to that young girl, that concerns us."
"Look Mrs. Collins, every test we have run with your
son shows no abnormality whatsoever. Granted, such
impulses might be seen as very unusual in a boy so
young, but let's not get carried away here. Just let
things take their course and I'm sure you'll find this
was simply a one-off incident."
That notion however was consigned to the "Oops, we got
that wrong" pile not three weeks later, when Drew was
discovered in the girls' locker-room during recess,
with his hands down young Sarah Beaumont's bra,
fondling the life out of her hot, if not somewhat still
puffy little nipples.
A deal was struck. No official complaint lodged, so
long as they withdrew their son from St. Angelus Junior
High immediately.
"But dad, it's the truth," he had said, "They told me
to do it!"
He learned to differentiate between the voices. One
preferred blondes, another brunettes apparently and the
third, most anything under-age in a skirt. He was kept
busy let's say!
Only by dint of the fact that none of the girls or
their parents had yet pressed charges, was he still
free to ply his trade amongst the adolescent community
of Prairie du Chien. Patti Morrison was to set a
precedent however, but one has admittedly to recognise
the hurt and embarrassment that comes with being
multiply raped on the front porch - just their first
date too!
The detective in charge seemed remarkably short on
understanding.
"Why'd you do it son?" he asked for the second time.
"How'd you figure you were gonna get away with it?
Right outside the girl's own front door for Christ's
sake!" he looked across at Dianne. "Pardon my language
ma'am," he muttered before turning his attention back
to the seventeen-year old, slumped elbows-first across
the interrogation table.
Drew looked up at his inquisitors acutely confused. Why
was no-one listening? How difficult was it to
understand? - he was acting under instructions.
With the case adjourned pending further medical
reports, Drew found himself repeating his explanation
to a veritable raft of clinical psychologists. While
his parents fretted and made haste to re-locate as far
from Prairie du Chien as was practical, Drew found
himself sifting through IQ tests, response card
sessions and protracted interviews with white-coated,
highly qualified fruitcakes, who insisted on asking why
he hated females in general and whether or nor he
masturbated in darkened cupboards once in a while?
The bottom line was that medical opinion was fully
inconclusive. No one believed the voices existed of
course, but the general consensus was that Drew at
least believed he heard them.
Found "Not guilty by reason of mental incompetence,"
Drew was sent to a nearby sanitarium for "continued
treatment."
Some three years later, and with a severe room shortage
looming, Doctor Charles Meredith, director-in-charge of
operations, perhaps recognizing that nothing had been
achieved, and the fact that his staff had found
'absolutely no abnormality' in the youth since his
admission - signed him out.
Over the years, his parents had paid money into an
account for him and enough of a balance existed now
that he would be able to support himself until he could
obtain gainful employment. He had completed his High
School diploma whilst in psychiatric care and was
ecstatic at the prospect of his new-found freedom.
"You did well Drew," the voice enunciated clearly, as
he descended the steps of the ancient white-painted
facility. He allowed himself a broad smile. A whole
afternoon and evening to himself, before he need call
his parents he mused.
Drawing out several hundred dollars, he found the
nearest men’s outfitters and upgraded his sartorial
presentation before crossing Curzon Boulevarde and
checking himself into the Regent, by far the most
opulent of the city's twelve hotels.
"No luggage sir?" enquired the girl in reception.
"It'll be here later," he confided to her smiling
broadly, whilst slipping the electronic swipe-card into
his pocket.
Maryanne Clarke's shift at Wal-Mart had finished at 2
p.m. and she had dropped into the diner for a coffee
and sandwich before heading-off home. Just nineteen,
she was a pretty girl. Shoulder length dark brown hair
that she kept neatly swept back of her cheeks with
small mica clasps when she was working the check-out,
highlighted a young-looking face that in truth was
inclined more towards naivety than worldly experience.
Handed a figure that did everything right, she
nevertheless wondered why so large a percentage of the
male population in town paid her the close attention it
did. She found it quite embarrassing.
Seated in the corner of the diner, Drew had noticed the
young girl the moment she walked in, her figure
especially.
"Gentlemen, we have a most pleasant task ahead of us it
seems." The voice sniggered inside the periphery of
Drew's subconscious. He was sure he heard other voices
signifying their own assent.
"Could you pass me the sugar please Miss?"
Maryanne glanced up at the speaker and liked what she
saw. A rather stylish looking young man, clean cut,
well dressed and altogether a step-up from the usual
dross hanging around the bar of any small mid-American
town you care to name. If any word came to her mind, it
would have to be... yummy!
Drew smiled at the girl, "Sorry for being a pest - I
must be sitting in a sugar-free zone over there." He
pointed to the corner whence he came.
She giggled and was unable to prevent a delicate blush
pervading both cheeks.
"Oh, it's Ok," she muttered, pushing the bowl towards
him, wondering what else she could possibly say to
prolong his stay at her table.
"Thanks," said Drew. "You'd think being a Doctor I'd
know better wouldn't you?" he grinned, glancing at the
small bowl.
"You're a Doctor?" she asked, "Wow, you don't look that
old," She immediately felt embarrassed by the inference
of her words. "Ohh, I'm soo sorry," she added, "That
was very rude of me."
"Nothing to apologise for," he replied smiling. "I get
that all the time. To be honest, I'm actually a third
year Intern at the State County Hospital in Milwaukee.
Just here for a medical convention."
"Oh really?" she said. "Do you live in Milwaukee?"
Drew grinned. "Say, why don't you come sit at my table
over there? it's not doing my back any good standing
here bent-over like this."
Realizing the humor in his predicament," she burst out
laughing. "OK then," she answered picking up her drink
and sandwich. "My name's Maryanne by the way." She
extended a hand.
"Pleased to meet you Maryanne," he said, grasping her
palm firmly, "And I'm Drew."
They crossed to the far corner and sat down at the
small cubicle facing one another.
"So Maryanne," he continued, "You were asking if I live
in Milwaukee?" she nodded.
"Actually, no I don't. I live at home still - in
Appleton. It's a nice little place about thirty miles
south west of Green Bay."
"I know Green Bay," she replied. "Our family had a
holiday home up there when I was a child. Such a cool
place to spend a vacation. Freezing though in Winter,"
she added.
"For God's sake," the voice intoned, resonating through
Drew's awareness, "Can you cut the cutesy talk and just
get the girl up to your room - we'll take it from there
kid!"
She noticed his sudden change of demeanor.
"Something wrong Drew?" she asked. "You OK?"
"Sorry Maryanne," he responded quickly, feeling inside
the pockets of his jacket suddenly. "It's just that I
think I left my wallet on the coffee table in my hotel
room over the road. It's got all my credit cards, and
medical id in it. I have to go and check sorry. He
pulled out a twenty from his back pocket. "Here, this
should cover the bill at least. Thanks for the chat...
and the sugar."
She looked so bitterly disappointed right that second,
he figured he deserved an Oscar.
"Look," he added, "The convention doesn't start till 5
p.m. Do you want to come over with me and after I get
my wallet, maybe we can have an hour or so in the
Regent's Bistro?
"The Regent?" she said, obviously impressed. "Gosh, I'm
hardly dressed for it," she added wistfully.
"It's just a Bistro," he added consolingly, "and hey,
you look really nice anyway, that's a smart little two-
piece you have on." She blushed again.
They paid the bill and headed off towards the Hotel's
entrance some thirty yards further down the Boulevarde.
"Now you're talking," said the voice. Drew smiled to
himself.
Using the swipe-card he still had in his breast-pocket,
he opened the door to suite 862. Rather than wait in
reception, Maryanne had happily agreed when asked, to
accompany him while he fetched his wallet. It's hardly
as though she was in any likely danger. Broad daylight
and in the company of a young and particularly handsome
doctor!
"Such a beautiful room," she muttered, stepping inside.
"Such beautiful tits," said the voice, as a hand
clamped itself around her mouth, even as the heavy door
slammed shut behind her. Propelled towards the queen-
size bed by someone with enormous strength, she was
unable to dislodge the palm across her lips.
"Did you remember the knife lad?" Drew heard in his
brain. He nodded as the girl was forced face-down on to
the coverlet.
From then on he was but dimly aware of what transpired
in that room - merely that he had a service to
perform... a duty to obey!
Maryanne however was unfortunately privy to everything
that went on. As the keen blade hovered but an inch
from her epiglottis, she cowered in fear. Silent fear
that is. Time enough of course to have her mouth fully
taped.
This, followed by her wrists being securely bound at
her back, left her with all the freedom of a trussed
chicken.
"And now my dear," said the voice, "I think we might
indulge ourselves with a little correctional behavior
if you will."
Across Drew's knee as she was, the first smack wasn't
too bad. Well, embarrassing to be sure, but not
especially painful.
"Don't mind your bottom being spanked eh love?" said
the voice. "That's OK, all little girls seem to like
it. You know, there was this cute little school kid -
must be ten years ago now I guess. Hot damn, she had
the sexiest little rear-end... we really got her hot as
I recall. Shame about that damn janitor."
The next spank made her gasp... well, as far as one can
gasp into a gag. Blow followed blow and with the
increasing application, Maryanne found her legs drawing
themselves up at the knee... achieving no more than
adding arousingly to her vulnerability. Worse, her
skirt she could feel, was riding up her thighs.
"I know its naughty, but let's see what panties a
pretty little girl like you wears around town
Maryanne," muttered the voice. She wriggled uselessly
as she felt a hand yanking her skirt right up.
"Blue suits you sweetheart," came the unwanted
response, but she had no time to reflect on such things
as her bikini-clad cheeks were then forcibly submitted
to a humiliating spanking, the skimpy material offering
but minimal protection.
She was crying of course, but the hand was not to be
denied. Even as she wriggled helplessly, she felt her
panties being tugged lower and fresh blows rained down
now on her bare bottom.
"Real sexy little cheeks you have there Missy," uttered
the voice, "Even if I do say so myself." The spanks
stopped and she lay still sobbing silently. Her rather
shapely bottom was as sore as it looked right at that
moment.
"Now we can't have a young lady getting all hot and
bothered," continued the sibilant whisper. "But first,
we need to check out a few things here." So saying, a
hand encircled her waist and she shuddered as she felt
the fingers moving ever upwards.
"Like I said," the voice went on, "You have the most
beautiful tits Maryanne." Although fully repulsed, she
felt an unforced flush of erotic pleasure as the
fingers closed about her right breast, fondling the
soft tissue with obscene intent. Again she gasped
beneath the gag as Drew's hands took a hold of a breast
each and commenced mauling them harshly.
Any erotic pleasure she had imagined was now fully
dissipated as the fingers slipped beneath her top and
bra and began molesting her wholesale. She cringed on
his knee as both nipples were crushed between thumb and
forefinger. Cupping her breasts, the hands roamed at
will, prodding, rubbing, separating and abusing.
Despite such unwanted attention however she was unable
to repel nature's overall plan, and the continuous
stimulation in this general area was causing her
nipples to become erect.
"Well now," continued the voice. "What do we have here?
Badly behaved little nipples no less." He pulled both
hard, causing her to mumble incoherently into the tape
covering her mouth as she squirmed in an agony of
distress.
"Let's have a look see what's happening in other areas
young lady," the voice proclaimed, as she felt to her
horror, fingers slipping upwards between her legs. She
tried to close them but two harshly delivered smacks on
her still glowing rear-end was sufficient to part them
again.
Tears coursed down her face as she felt the fingers
rubbing her labia hard, then their enforced separation
as a finger worked its way up inside her. Her arms were
aching now but it was the humiliating digital abuse her
body was suffering that was blocking out every other
sensation.
"Sexy little cunt aren't you," said quite another
voice. She stiffened with horror. Lifted off Drew's
knee, she was tossed face-down back on to the coverlet.
"Let's find out just how sexy," continued the same
voice.
Forced into a kneeling position she knew what was
coming but was powerless to prevent it. Rape is not a
pleasant experience and for Maryanne that afternoon,
pretty much as bad as it gets.
With merely obligated functionality and no emotional
attachment to detract from the job at hand, Drew's
penile insertion was somewhat less than a sexual
epiphany for the young girl, virgin that she
unfortunately still was. His first thrust made short
work of both the remnants of her hymen and any hopes
she may have had that the experience might not be too
agonising. Rape after all is rape!
The duct tape may have reduced all outward vocalised
signs of distress but on the inside, her body was
screaming at the pain caused by the insensitive
intruder. Wracked with sobs she had to just kneel there
and permit the on-going debasement. She felt as if a
bar of red-hot iron was being forced up between her
legs, one wielded by some outcast from the Spanish
Inquisition. Drew was relentless or at least his
erection was, after all he wasn't even aware of the
debauchery in progress.
Working the teenager like she was the county slut, one
who could well expect to find herself taking a dive off
the Tallahassee bridge some day, it was just a matter
of time until he found himself jerking copious amounts
of sticky white gel way up where he shouldn't. Even in
her unmitigated distress, Maryanne felt the hot spurts
deep inside her vagina and sobbed with renewed grief
for her stolen innocence... "My turn," said someone,
"And I want the little cunt on her back... and naked."
Unable to pull-off her top and bra, on account of her
being bound, the hands literally ripped and tore at her
clothes, taking obscene liberties with her body as they
did so. Even as she lay there exposed and vulnerable,
one hand fondled her breasts lewdly while other fingers
pried her pussy apart thereby releasing further
trickles of the invasive semen.
As Drew knelt between her legs - forced uncomfortably
wide now, she saw his blank expression and with
uncomprehending horror, heard the words "You are such a
fucking slut Maryanne." His lips hadn't moved!
She had little opportunity to fathom this enigma
however. As Drew pushed hard into her, he began fucking
her so violently she felt the head of his penis
intruding upon her cervix. Her world was given over to
tortuous pain. Shaking her head from side to side in
abject misery, she watched as he spread her legs ever
wider, grunting in animalistic pleasure as he mated
like the Cro-Magnon primate into which he had
metamorphisised.
As his spasmodic ejaculation released yet more unwanted
DNA deep inside her, Maryanne closed her eyes. Her
dignity in tatters, her body wracked in pain, what did
anything matter any more?
"Would you like anything to eat Maryanne?" were the
absolute last words she was expecting to hear.
Drew, dressed decently now, was standing across the
room seemingly un-moved by the fact that a tearful and
obviously just-raped young girl was now lying naked and
tied-up on his bed. The fact that being gagged
prevented her from answering seemed of little
consequence to him either. She was further stunned by
the fact that she could hear him ordering some
refreshments from room service as if absolutely nothing
untoward had happened. He had his back to her.
Perhaps due to a combination of body sweat and the
frenetic activity wreaked upon her body, but one of the
strips of tape across her mouth had come partially
loose.
"Help me, please help me," she screamed. "I'm being
raped!"
She got no further as Drew delivered an enormous
backhander which staggered her and she fell back on the
bed. The tape was replaced - Drew had gone.
"Fucking little bitch," intoned the cruel and gravelly
voice, "Now you're really gonna pay with your cheap and
slutty hide girl." So saying, he turned her over on the
very edge of the bed. Spreading her ass cheeks wide,
she felt the head of his penis as he thrust it hard up
against her forbidden channel. This was unimaginable
ignomy, the ultimate degradation. The pain was
indescribable.
There was a commotion at the door.
"Back off her... right now lad," ordered the cop, his
partner's gun held in what looked like the steadiest of
grips. He didn't look like he was kidding around. Drew
calmly took a few steps towards the chair, adjusting
his fly as he retreated. Once again, he looked puzzled.
"What appears to be the problem Officer?" he asked in
all innocence.
"Problem is son, you forgot to hang up the phone!"
***
The first few days of the trial were predictable. Hours
of documented Police evidence, embracing forensic,
medical and verbal testimony. Witnesses to the actual
crime in progress as well as a tearful spell on the
stand from young Maryanne herself. The jurors smiled at
her heart-wrenching performance with unrehearsed
benevolence.
For most of this time Drew sat alongside his legal
counsel, slumped disinterestedly against the desk in
front of him. Occasionally he would pour himself a
glass of water and stare at the court-room ceiling.
The day he was called to the stand himself, he took his
time crossing the Court, staring at the jurors like
they were a bus-load of Japanese tourists at the
Hollywood Bowl. Sworn-in, again he adopted that slumped
pose.
Even before the prosecutor could utter a syllable, Drew
closed his eyes, resting his chin on his upraised arms.
"With all due respect your Honor," echoed a fully
unrecognizable voice. No-one even could see Drew's lips
moving.
"You've got the wrong man. Look at him. I ask you
Judge, does Drew Collins look like a rapist?"
No-one in the courtroom stirred. The prosecutor picked
up the water decanter then put it down again. The
defence attorney let out a gasp, while Justice
Caldwell's jaw dropped several inches.
"Like I said," the voice continued, "Drew Collins a
sexual deviate? I hardly think so." You could have
heard a pin drop. "Of course, there is another here who
fits that description to a 't'... he even did time last
century so he tells me."
The booming laughter that followed, would have
bequeathed Father Merrin the shakes!
The trial was aborted...
***
"Good morning Drew," muttered Charles Meredith MD, as
the ambulance drew up at the crumbling brownstone
steps, depositing there the young man manacled at the
wrists still and standing between two large uniformed
guards.
"It seems I may have been somewhat hasty in my earlier
assessment. Come with me lad, your old room's ready and
waiting!"
END
© Peter_Pan 2005 http://www.lulu.com/content/106537
Autobiography:
http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbnInquiry
.asp?userid=PQ0lfOLCgC&isbn=1411624149&itm=1
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 39