A Benevolent Rapist - The Spinoff Contest

[RapeU]

Teaser: “Please stop,” she said, voice desperate. “Please. Please. Please.” She kept moving, wriggling, writhing under him, her body refusing his every attempt to claim it, and the more she did the more he wanted her.
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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Title: A Benevolent Rapist
Author: RapeU
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This story is going to be part of The Spin-off Contest. It is a spin off combination of @Claire's story Record Chaser and my story Two Hearts, One Wedding. You do not need to read the prior stories to enjoy this one, but it would be a good idea to read both.

There's an event that happens within this story which will read as a punch to the gut here but seem mundane in Two Hearts, One Wedding.

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A Benevolent Rapist

The wedding reception was insanely decorated. Every table was set with white, blue, and yellow flowers. The knives and forks gleamed against the tablecloths in symmetrical rows. All of the guests knew the lesbian couple Hannah and Wendy personally, except Mark. Mark didn’t know anyone there. He sat at a table unnoticed by the other guests.

Some people would have been thrown into depression by not being noticed. Others would go out of their way to become noticed. Not Mark. Mark learned from a very young age that being invisible had it’s perks. With just a little patience and practice he could do whatever he wanted without being noticed. He was a hunter, a serial rapist, and women were his prey. Mark was here for the hunt.

Everyone had been talking about the lesbian wedding at Briarwood Manor, a refurbished mansion that had historic significance in the underground railroad. Mark liked a tight pussy, and he figured a lesbian would have the tightest ones around. It was easy to learn the names of the lesbian couple and friend them on Facebook, with a realistic fake profile of course. Even easier was the way RSVPing to the manor could be done through their Facebook page. Mark’s RSVP had been under the name Lenny Leonard, a Simpson’s reference that no one had caught.

The Facebook photos of the one called Hannah, a redhead, was what drew him here. He loved freckles, and Hannah’s arms were covered with them. Hannah’s body was gorgeous enough to be a swimsuit model. Wendy, a brunette, was pretty sexy too in her own ways. Maybe he would take her a little while after Hannah depending on how well it went. Taking them both at once would include unnecessary risks. Unnecessary risks were a good way to get caught, and Mark was good at avoiding detection.

Mark was invisible at a back table with a suit that was a little too formal than the other guests, but as long as he didn’t draw attention to himself no one would notice. And drawing attention to himself was easy to avoid with years of practice. People had this uncanny ability to know when they were being watched, so the trick was to never let your eyes linger too long at someone. Carefully controlling his thoughts was another trick he perfected. He discovered early on if he made himself horny by planning while watching it would trigger the instinct of danger within people.

Mark glanced at Hannah. In the flesh she was hotter, though she was wearing an ivory suit so he couldn’t see the majority of her freckles. There was a stiffness to her shoulders that betrayed a lifetime of caution. And her red hair was a fiery display of perfection. She would probably be an excellent victim. As he glanced around the room, he felt a shift in the atmosphere.

It was remarkable. Mark had been invisible by choice for years. But now someone was noticing him. Actually seeing him. That usually didn’t happen until his victims were at his mercy. He felt eyes linger on him, as if he were the prey. The thought unsettled him, and had he been a less experienced hunter he would have panicked. Instead, Mark kept his cool. He quickly and discretely found the source. Wendy was looking directly at him. Thinking about Hannah as a victim for that one moment probably gave him away. Mark’s thoughts turned to a mundane grocery list he repeated in his head. Wendy whispered something to Hannah, and then Hannah watched him.

He could feel it in his gut. Wendy wasn’t a sheep who behaved like other people. She was probably one of those who sensed danger before it happened. The officiant at the wedding hinted at trials before they were married, so perhaps the girls had been abused before. And if one or both were true, he would have to be more careful to take Hannah when Wendy was occupied elsewhere. And definitely not tonight, not when Wendy got a whiff of danger from him thanks to a momentary stray thought. It usually took more of those for people to feel uneasy, and even then they usually didn’t notice him.

Mark listened to the conversations and whispers of guests. They would leave tomorrow for a Hawaiian honeymoon. Hannah had planned the wedding mostly herself. He didn’t care much for weddings, but that fact intrigued him, made him want her more. But there was no hurry to do so. Hurrying meant making mistakes, and Mark didn’t like to make mistakes. He decided to trail Hannah and Wendy when they returned from their honeymoon.

As Mark was about to leave, the maid of honor for Wendy, Zoe, caught his eye. He’d noted her earlier, but only as a potential obstacle. Perhaps she would make a good victim? Her blonde hair was styled in a loose French braid and her blue dress showed off her tanned forearms. Mark did not feel attraction to her, not in the conventional sense. What he felt was a kind of curiosity, a gravitational pull that suggested she would be enjoyable.

Mark watched, and his pulse sped up out of a predator’s anticipation. She drifted from group to group, never lingering long, and her route went toward Mark’s table. When Zoe passed near him, she met his eyes. She did not smile, but neither did she look away. Unlike Wendy, Zoe had not taken any particular interest in him. That was all Mark needed to make his decision.

Mark rose from the table and nonchalantly left the reception, careful to keep his grocery list at the front of his mind. Outside, the air was cool and sharp. The grounds were silent, except for the distant, muffled pulse of music. He unlocked his car with a click and slid into the driver’s seat. Once inside, Mark looked at Facebook and found her full name. Zoe Morgan, his next victim.

***

Mark abducted Zoe with practiced efficiency like he had with over a dozen other victims. He brought her to a basement of a building he rented under a fake name. The digital age made it really easy to spend money without interacting with a single soul. Not that anyone would have remembered much of him if he rented it in person anyway.

“Ugh,” Zoe sleepily groaned from a worn mattress, “what happened last night.” She hadn’t realized she was naked with wrists cuffed on a mattress yet. Her tits, which were larger than her clothing made them appear, swayed as Zoe tried to wake up. Mark answered her calmly, almost distracted by her tits, “You were given a sedative.” Zoe mumbled, “What” as if her body would pull her back into sleep. Mark grabbed a cup of water and held it to her lips. She drank it. “A sedative,” Mark said patiently. “It was necessary to bring you here.” Zoe’s asked, voice a little more clearer, “What’s going on?” Victims always asked a question at that point like clockwork. It was always intriguing when someone didn’t go for the inevitable ‘where am I’ or ‘who are you.’ “That’s an interesting question to start off with,” Mark opined. He paused, contemplating his answer.

Zoe by that point noticed she was naked and couldn’t leave the mattress. She twisted her body and let out a sharp grunt. “Zoe,” Mark gently said, “look into my eyes.” He had done this enough times with prior victims to know the suggestion along with his calm demeanor would momentarily disarm her panic. Zoe’s eyes were still mildly unfocused, but he could tell there was a burning intensity behind them.

Mark took a breath, “Ok, to answer your question. I am Mark. I have abducted you from the street.” Zoe’s eyes widened with that statement, but she didn’t move any other muscle. “I brought you here to an area that has nothing to do with me. Once we’re done here you will be free to go with everything you had with you when I abducted you.” She blinked a few times, then said in a trembling voice “Free to go?” Mark nodded. “After I’m done, yes.” There was a pause, then Zoe asked “Done with what?” Mark didn’t hesitate, “Raping you.”

Mark saw the words sink into her brain. Watching psychological impact of his victims was always fun. Some would cry, others would scream. One of his victims even tried to appeal to his humanity. Zoe didn’t do any of these things. “This is a joke right? Who put you up to this?” Mark shook his head. “This is real,” he confirmed. “I am going to rape you until I’m done.” Both of her eyebrows shot upward, “You’re going to what now?”

Mark repeated himself, “Rape you,” and calmly said, “Now before you get all excited and defensive I made a few rules for myself to avoid getting caught. One, Don’t rape those under the age of 18.” Zoe’s eyes began to narrow at him. “Two, don’t kill my victim.” Mark continued, ticking his fingers along with the list, “Three, don’t inflict lasting physical harm on my victim.” She blinked rapidly a few times, as if she were trying to decide if she was dreaming or not. “Four, don’t abduct my victim for more than one day.” Mark held up his palm for Zoe to see “And finally, don’t threaten my victim with a violation of the rules.”

The real purpose of the rules was so he would feel less guilty, but Zoe didn’t need to know that part. Her reaction to his rules was to hope it was a joke while making a joke of her own. “Hahaha, good one,” she fake laughed. “Ok this is the shittiest escape room in the world. Do I have to use a safe word to get out of the handcuffs or do I have to solve a puzzle first?”

Mark couldn’t help but snicker at her humor. He could respect someone who didn’t turn into a screaming, crying mess by this point. “There is nothing you need to do Zoe,” Mark said as he began to undress. That action caused an immediate reaction from Zoe. Her face scrunched, lashes blinking hard as she fought down the tremor in her mouth. “Well, that’s an anticlimax. I thought I was getting inducted into a cult, but you’re just a perverted priest or something.” She tested the cuffs and made a pained face when she couldn’t break free. “How much longer are you gonna monologue? I feel like a Bond villain is about to explain his tragic backstory.”

It was both amusing and impressive the way she mocked him. Of course, Mark knew she was trying to strip the situation of menace by grinding it down to absurdity. It was all false bravado, a desperate gambit to try and throw him off his game. Any lesser hunter would have been affected by it. But Mark suspected she would act this way based on her wedding toast to the lesbian couple. It had made everyone, including him laugh at a few points.

“If you feel like you need no further explanation, we can go ahead with the planned activity,” Mark calmly said. Zoe’s reply was immediate, “Why me?” He knew Zoe was trying to stall for time, but that didn’t matter. There was plenty of time to be had. He wasn’t going to do a sex marathon like he did a while back after all. Mark searched for the most honest answer, lingering for a breath on the question. The real answer was always the same, he could have picked anyone. But Mark wanted his answer to mean something, to be about more than flesh and appetite. He weighed the words, then shrugged.

“That’s like asking why birds migrate” he said as if he were a professor in a lecture. “Or why the sun rises in the east and sets in the west.” He shrugged again. “I am a hunter. While I was hunting you came across my path. You are prey. That’s about all there is to it. Sometimes it’s just the way things are.”

“I’m not your type, you know,” Zoe said, her voice barely on the verge of panic. “All I do is work and eat fast food. My only party trick is being able to tie a cherry stem with my tongue, and I’m guessing you’ve seen better.” Mark stood naked in front of her, let the silence fill out, and then said, “You have a pussy. That’s my type.”

“I have a dog,” Zoe blurted the words out as if she were vomiting. “If I’m not home by eight, he gets anxious. He’ll shit on the carpet and bark until the neighbors call animal control.” Mark shook his head. “We both know you don’t have a dog.” He took a step closer to her. She watched him. Her mouth twisted up at the corner, the motion of someone preparing to spit in his face. “You don’t have to do this,” she said. Mark ignored her and came closer. Zoe lifted her head. “You really don’t,” she said, urgent now, her voice rising. “I want to do this,” Mark simply replied in that calm voice of his.

Zoe’s eyes widened, “Please, you could let me go. I don’t remember your face. I barely remember anything. I won’t say anything I swear!” Mark grabbed a pillow and put it under her ass for leverage. Zoe tried a different tack. “Look, I’m not special,” she said, voice trembling. “There are other people out there. I’m just some fucking random blonde who makes too many bad jokes. You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” Mark said. His body weight pinned Zoe down onto the mattress. “I have an STD!” Zoe suddenly and quickly blurted out. Mark let out a snicker, “You talk fast and your nostrils flare when you lie.” Zoe’s eyes darted all around, desperately searching for a way out. “Heeeellllllp! Someone helllllllp!” Mark moved his member closer and closer. “Yes I will help myself to you,” he mocked.

Mark pressed the head of his cock against her cunt and pushed forward. There was the familiar resistance, a friction barely mitigated by her body’s unwilling fortress. It didn’t matter. Mark had done this enough to know that patience was key. Slow and steady wins the race. The first inch, then the next, Zoe’s breath coming in ragged, uneven pulls. He fed himself into her, inch by slow inch, every muscle in her body going rigid in response.

“Stop, please stop!” Zoe’s plea struck somewhere, but not in the place she’d hope. Mark let her desperation bounce off his exterior like rain tapping on glass. He made himself focused on the task. In this, he was a professional, better than anyone. Mark twisted his hips, finding the angle that would force her open. The clamping resistance meant nothing. He pressed again, harder but patient, and was rewarded with a slight give. The head of his cock was inside her.

“Please stop,” Zoe begged, voice desperate. “Please. Please. Please.” She kept moving, wriggling, writhing under him, her body refusing his every attempt to claim it, and the more she did the more he wanted her. “No no no please no!” Her voice became more ragged. Mark knew her resistance was close to breaking. The way her body felt as she writhed underneath him kept him hard.

Another thrust deeper and he felt the vaginal walls slowly give way to more of his cock. Zoe squeezed her eyes shut and let out harsh, deep sobs that vibrated the basement walls. The sound was ugly and raw, nothing like anything heard on a fake porn video. Her vagina wasn’t wet at all, but Mark knew it would get there eventually.

“Damn you’re tight, it’s been a while for you hasn’t it?” Zoe didn’t answer beyond harsh sobs, but her body tensed, which only made it more rewarding to work her open. And then there were her tits. Mark’s thrusts and Zoe’s sobs made her alluring breast beautifully bounce. Every little movement Zoe made just made it better, made him focus harder on splitting her open, defeating the protest of her body against his. Her sobs were all sharp, deep breaths with ragged animal hitches.

Mark thrust again and this time the gates of Zoe’s vagina tore open to let his cock experience the full heat of her body. He gasped as he felt his entire shaft be swallowed. Zoe's body, clenched and dry, fought with every ragged shudder and panicked twist, her face flushed and eyes leaking thick, ugly tears. Mark buried himself against the fullness of her, feeling the subtle shifts as her flesh slowly acclimated to the foreign demand. Each time he bottomed out she let out a gasp, the air punched out of her lungs in a sharp, wet bark.

Zoe’s sobs grew louder, more feral, as he felt the inside of her slowly become moist. Her body trembled, vibrated beneath him. Every muscle she had was resisting even as she began to wet around his cock. Mark relished the slow shift from dry, grinding friction to the slick, unwilling sheath clamping down. He liked that moment best, when the body’s betrayal set in and nature overrode civility. He pressed forward again and again, feeling her sobs shake through the mattress.

He bucked his hips slow and relentless, feeling the way her boundaries gave beneath the rhythm. Mark moved in a practiced rhythm, savoring each ragged shudder and involuntary spasm as he forced himself deeper. The heat of her crotch matched the flush crawling up her neck, a clammy dampness slick on her brow. Her sobs lost words, became guttural hiccups, airless and animal.

“Shit,” Mark grunted when he increased the pacing of his thrusts. Her pussy was a good one. Tight. Furious. Zoe’s head was turning back and forth as more moans than sobs erupted from her mouth. He found the rhythm that worked best for him and kept at it, indifferent to the ragged staccato of Zoe’s moans, the snot and tears that slicked her face, the way she tried to arch away from him as if the extra inch of separation could matter. Mark braced his hands on either side of her, enjoying the feeling of her body shuddering with every impact. He grunted again, almost surprised at the relentless heat gathering at his cock.

He came hard, pressing her flat to the mattress while pressing his cock as deep inside her as he could. Zoe made a noise that was half strangled shriek, half sob. Then she just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, her body limp beneath him. Mark collapsed on top of Zoe, breathing heavily. He watched for a minute, savoring the moment before he swung himself up and off her.

Mark went to the restroom to clean himself up. He thought about going another round. There was still plenty of time left before the 24 hour rule kicked in. “Yeah, I can go again,” Mark whispered to himself. He returned to Zoe and found her with a blank glassy stare. “Would you like water or something to eat before we go again?”

The question seemed to surprise her and wake her from wherever she had gone. “Go again?” Her voice was tiny, absent of any defiance or humor from earlier. “You had your fun, can’t you just let me go?” Mark shrugged, “I’m not through with having fun with your body. There’s at least another round or two I can go.” In truth he could go for over a dozen, but by the half a dozen point it would be more painful than fun. “Once I’m done I’ll let you go. That’s just the way things are.”

“Please,” Zoe whimpered, “just let me go.” Mark shook his head. “Last chance, do you require water or food before the next round?” “You’re a monster.” Zoe whispered. Ignoring her jab, he shrugged, “Have it your way then.” Zoe’s nude body already made his cock hard, so he didn’t bother with preamble this time and immediately crawled on top of her.

Zoe let out a choked sob “Please, no more,” she begged. Mark pressed her back into the mattress, the warmth of her skin and the tremors of her body an electric thrum under his hands. His cock went in her vagina easier this time, it always did when he had multiple rounds with a victim. Zoe sobbed less this time, but he knew she hadn’t stopped fighting, not entirely. Her arms, legs, and more importantly those tantalizing tits, shook with every thrust.

She didn’t bother with insults or pleas anymore. That had all been used up, burned out, and now it was just the mechanical grind of hips and flesh in the dim light, the sting of sweat in both their eyes. She turned her head away to the wall like she might find the secret passage out, but no such luck. Mark let her do it, finding the minor defiance hot.

She was shaking more than before. Maybe it was cold or shock or just the exhaustion of terror. Didn’t matter. Her pussy was even tighter now, spasming involuntarily around his member. He savored the way she trembled and clenched, how her body seemed to panic on a cellular level. There was no rhythm to her breathing, just short, arrhythmic sobs as he pounded into her.

He kept at it until the pleasure built again, sharp and urgent, and he came with a grunt. He shuddered for a long moment, then collapsed on top of Zoe like last time. After a few moments of laying on Zoe, Mark wondered about doing a third round with her. Ultimately he decided against it. Hannah was who he really wanted after all. Zoe was just a matter of convenience, and she looked completely broken. It was less fun when his victims no longer resisted. Decision made, he rolled off of Zoe and began the mundane process to minimize evidence.

After Mark wiped down every surface he may have touched, he looked at Zoe. Her eyes lacked the fire he saw earlier within. When he unlocked Zoe’s cuffs, she just continued to lay on the mattress. She made no sound, didn’t even draw her knees up or cover herself. There was no fight left. Zoe only moved when Mark put her clothes beside her, and even then she looked at him first before dressing.

“Yes Zoe, get dressed.” Some victims didn’t need direction and would bolt once free, clothing be damned. Others needed to be guided, their mind shattered from trauma. Zoe clearly needed to be guided. She said nothing. Not a single word was uttered when he presented her purse to her. Zoe didn’t even speak when he guided her up the concrete steps and out into the night. The alley behind the building was so dark that even Mark’s eyes, adjusted to gloom, needed several seconds to make out the dumpster, the fence, the absence of movement.

“You’re free to go.” Mark simply said. Zoe looked at him for a long moment with a blank expression, eyes haunted and still completely silent. “You can go Zoe, you’re free.” There was a flash in Zoe’s eyes, then she turned and slowly walked away. He waited for her to walk a little bit then discretely followed her path.

It wasn’t rational to want to see her home as if they had just been on a date, especially given what Mark had just done. But Mark felt this compulsion that he couldn’t explain away. It had happened once before with one of his victims. Why did he feel this compulsion again? Was he turning into a benevolent rapist? The idea seemed absurd, but he followed his compulsion anyway.

Mark’s footsteps barely left a sound. He trailed Zoe from half a block back, never letting her see him. Her pace was uneven, sometimes hurried, sometimes slow as if the sidewalk had turned to quicksand. Once, she stopped dead, clutching a lamp post as if it were a lifeline. Mark pressed himself into the alcove of a closed florist’s shop and waited, eyes never leaving her silhouette.

Zoe moved on and Mark realized after a few more blocks she was not walking home. Curious, he continued to follow. Zoe’s stride picked up, arms hugging her ribcage as she made for a riverfront path. It was empty save for a single cyclist. The path was lined with iron railings and dead shrubs. Zoe’s figure was a wraith, pale blonde hair reflecting the city’s lights as she approached a pedestrian bridge.

The bridge was concrete and iron, and quite frankly ugly. It arched across the water of a river he couldn’t remember the name of at the moment. This late at night no one was around or on it. The only sounds that could be heard aside from the gentle flow of water was a hollow, chilly wind. Mark fell farther back, out of sight, but kept her in his line of sight. There was a funny feeling deep in his gut that Mark couldn’t explain. All he knew was he didn’t like feeling this way. Zoe paused at the center of the bridge. Mark watched from the embankment as she gripped the railing. What was she doing? She looked around in all directions. Then very slowly, she swung one leg over the iron safety bar.

For the first time in years, Mark felt the prick of real panic. He tried to steady his breathing, but his throat had turned to sand. Sweat burst on his scalp. He should do something, but he stood immobilized by the paradox of his own code. His rule was simple: No lasting physical harm. But was this lasting harm? If she did it herself? If, technically, she climbed the ledge of her own will and leapt? Was that even in his jurisdiction? Would she be able to survive the fall? He turned the problem over and over, like a Rubik’s cube. Should he intervene? What would she do if he did? Maybe if he intervened, she’d turn and fall anyway. Maybe he’d just scare her off the bridge. Maybe it was better to let it happen, a final neatness, a victim who left no witness or evidence behind.

Mark mentally slapped himself at that last thought. No, it would be evil to just let her die. Despite what some of his victims thought of him, Mark wasn’t completely evil. He might be a bad guy, but he didn’t want people to die. One of his victims invoked Godwin’s Law on him in real life. It was an absurd proposition to make that comparison. With that thought, he made the decision to intervene. But what was the best way to intervene?

As Mark contemplated on the action he needed to take, Zoe started to cry. Not a movie sob, not the beautiful suffering of cinema, but a raw, animal noise that carried across the bridge. Mark’s hands shook. Was crying a good sign? He didn’t know. Mark stepped out from his hiding place and took a half step toward her, his mouth opening to speak, when her phone rang.

Zoe froze, as if the sound itself was a rescue. She let the phone ring a few times, then pulled it from her pocket and answered with shaking hands. “Wendy?” Zoe’s voice lacked emotion. The wind blew and caused Mark to shiver from the cool breeze. He couldn’t hear what Wendy said on the other end of the phone. Zoe spoke again, still with no emotion in her voice at all. “I’m ok. Surprised you’re calling me while on the honeymoon.”

Mark retreated back into the shadows, heart rattling in his chest like a pebble in a can. Wendy was clear across the country, on her honeymoon no less, and she just randomly decided to call Zoe at this exact moment? Incredible. Too incredible to be a coincidence. After a long silence, Zoe eased herself back over the railing, back to safety. “Wen,” she said, with a soft voice this time. “That’s actually…perfect.”

There was another short pause. “I’m just tired,” she said and started walking back the way she came. “But this idea, it’s a good one. I’m glad you called, Wendy.” After one final pause Zoe said, “I’d better get going. Gotta study for a test.”

Mark crouched in the shadow of a support pillar, every muscle in his body vibrato with adrenaline, and watched as Zoe hung up, let her hand drop to her side, and began to sob in earnest. When she finished crying, she scanned the length of the bridge, turning slow as a security camera. Mark pressed himself into the shadows, holding his breath. He watched her watch the darkness, her eyes not really seeing, just checking for witnesses to her collapse. There were none, aside from him that she didn’t see. Just the hum of the river and, in the distance, a dog barking at nothing.

When Zoe staggered off the bridge, Mark resumed his pursuit. This time he stayed farther back. If she turned, all she would see was the shape of the city, indifferent as always, stretching out ahead of her. She crossed through a park and then back onto the grid of streets. She walked like a drunk, always a few degrees off plumb, but she kept going, one foot after another, all the way to her apartment.

Mark watched her enter the complex then turned to walk back to his home. He contemplated on whether or not it was worth going after Hannah now that he had seen Wendy’s intuition from afar. It would be one of his greatest challenges, perhaps even greater than breaking his orgasm record. All he had to do was make sure Wendy was incapacitated when he took Hannah...
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Mark will return. But how will he get past Wendy's natural instincts?

[Shocker]

I'm sure he will put his best foot forward, not only to get past her instincts, but alos between her labia