Door 96 - Feb-Mar Community Contest

[RapeU]

Teaser: No, no, no get awamMMM!” Cherry pressed her lips against Iris’ mouth. Iris’ head thrashed as much as it could, but Cherry gripped her head to keep her in place. Cherry held the kiss, exploring the slack, protesting mouth with her tongue. Her lips softened, coaxed Iris’ lips open wider, deepening the violation. She pushed her tongue all the way in her pretty little mouth.
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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: Door 96
Author: RapeU
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It was said that Door 69 demanded a sequel. Here it is!

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Door 96

Cherry’s assignment arrived as all assignments did. Her phone pinged with information about a missed FedEx package. She looked at the phone number the message was sent from. It was a number she had previously memorized, which meant someone silently pushed a letter underneath her apartment door. She deleted the text, clicked off her TV, got up, and found the letter right where she expected it to be. There was a sheet of paper inside with a flash drive taped to it. Cherry took the flash drive off the paper then read what was written on it.

Job: Capture.

Subject: IRIS.

Details in file.

Method: Own discretion.

Delivery: 72 hours from receipt. Door 96.

Cherry had always admired the minimalism of these notes. They only contained what was necessary. She was a little sad her target was potentially a woman. Cherry preferred cock most of the time, but didn’t mind doing a little experimentation on the side. “The reward will be worth it,” she whispered to herself.

She slid the flash drive into one of her laptops. The folder within contained numbers, addresses, a route to be memorized, surveillance notes, and photos of Iris. Studying the three photos, Cherry noted Iris had piercing blue eyes. One photo showed Iris at an outdoor table, hunched over a laptop, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. Another inside a convenience store, where it looked like she was buying a pack of gum. The final one, a shadowy profile through the passenger window of a car, her face barely visible. Cherry clicked through the surveillance notes. Iris was a legal assistant who moved to the city a few years ago from a rural town roughly 20 minutes out of the city proper. She had no nearby family and no pets. There were a handful of friends she talked with regularly.

After committing everything to memory, Cherry unplugged the flash drive from the computer. Then, she threw it to the ground and stomped on it as hard as she could. The paper and the envelope were sent through a paper shredder. Cherry swept up the pieces of the flash drive into a dust pan. The shredded paper and flash drive remnants were placed in a small black garbage bag. She grabbed a bottle of fart spray, sprayed the bag, quickly stuffed it into another garbage bag, and tied the strings tightly to avoid too much of the odor leaking out.

***

There was an art to being invisible and ensuring no one noticed you. Cherry had perfected that art. She could become forgettable, irrelevant, and invisible when need be. Who remembers seeing a poor homeless girl huddled in a blanket for warmth beside a building? No one, not even the other homeless. Especially not Iris. Cherry was careful to let the appearance of exhaustion bloom under her eyes. She did not linger in the same place two days in a row. And she wore the lousiest of shoes and sweatshirts donated by women named Diane or Barbara or Sharon. Cherry watched Iris for two and a half days. There was an art to watching, to never be seen, and never disturb the world around her.

Iris worked in an office on the sixth floor of a bank. Cherry mapped her movements with precision. Iris didn’t have a car, making it all the more easier for Cherry to observe her. She always used the same elevator bank and always took a brisk walk to the corner sandwich shop on lunch. After work she would always have a milkshake delivered, go to the park, sit on a bench until the milkshake was finished, and then go home. Her apartment was three blocks away, a building with stone lions perched above the entry.

On the day of the planned abduction, the sky was a bruised, colorless gray. Cherry followed Iris at a distance, slightly matching her pace along the sidewalk, each step calculated to keep her unnoticed. Iris took a sip of her milkshake as she walked to the park. Always just a few sips before she sat on a bench. She was totally predictable. Iris sat alone, back bent, sipping the drink and scanning her phone. The world seemed to slow around her, traffic noises muffled by the trees and the smell of fresh cut grass. Cherry waited, watching the arc of the sun behind the clouds, and when she judged the moment right, she approached.

Iris didn’t look up. Most people didn’t, but Cherry never made the mistake of assuming she was invisible at the finish line just because she had been at the start. Cherry walked past the bench twice. On her third pass, she took the empty seat at the far end of Iris’ bench. Neither acknowledged the other. Iris sat the milkshake down on the ground between her feet just like she did every day.

There was a funny thing about bookworms and people addicted to scrolling on their phones. They had their entire focus on whatever was in front of them. Cherry had once seen someone so invested in their phone at a hockey game that a novelty puck thrown by the mascot hit him in the forehead. So once Iris set her milkshake down to text, comment, or whatever, Cherry made her move.

Cherry forced herself to yawn, loud enough to be plausible but not so much as to seem performative. She slid off the bench, stretched, and shuffled past Iris’ feet, muttering an apology, “Sorry, almost knocked you drink over.” She didn’t even break stride as her hand dipped, palming a tiny vial from her sleeve. The cap flicked open with a practiced squeeze. Clear powder fell into the liquid, a perfect aim over the oversized hole in the plastic lid. The powder dissolved instantly. The whole process took less than two seconds, just a bump and a shuffle, her hand never more than eight inches from the cup.

Iris didn’t even acknowledge Cherry, she was too focused on her phone. Perfect. Cherry walked away, circled the footpath, and watched. After a few minutes, Iris picked up her cup and drank. Several sips later, her blinking slowed, and the hand holding the cup seemed suddenly too heavy. In less than a minute her posture wilted and her chin dropped to her chest. The cup slipped from her grip, rolling onto the ground. Cherry was beside her before she toppled, catching Iris’ slack weight and supporting her as though she were a concerned friend.

“You ok Iris?” Cherry called out in a voice of faux concern. Iris made a sound, a low, gurgle. Cherry retrieved Iris’ cup and made a show of smelling it. She grimaced, then threw the cup in a nearby trash can. “I’m very disappointed in you,” Cherry said with a tone her mother used to use when disciplining her. “Sneaking alcohol in your milkshakes. We’ll bring this up at the next meeting.” She slung one of Iris’ arms over her shoulder and hauled her to her feet, an awkward maneuver she’d practiced with sandbags and volunteers hundreds of times. No one noticed them leave the park. Or if anyone did, they thought it was just another drunk with their disappointed Alcoholics Anonymous sponsor.

Iris’ head lolled. Cherry could feel the faintest movement of breath on her neck. She spoke to Iris in a low, reassuring tone, the way one might calm a frightened child or dying animal. “Just a little farther. Almost there. I’ve got you.” Cherry carried Iris through the park and headed toward her car. She arrived at her car. The parking meter had already expired, but there was no ticket. She made excellent time.

Iris made another gurgle sound along with slow, lazy arm movements. “Shhh, you’ll be home soon,” Cherry gently whispered. She helped Iris into the passenger seat of her car. Cherry then slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

Cherry drove out of the park and took side roads until they were hugging the outskirts of the city. She checked the rearview mirror once, then twice. Her eyes darted between the road ahead, the rearview mirror, and Iris’ slumped form beside her. No one followed her.

The facility was a slab of poured concrete tucked in what appeared to be an old sewage and waste disposal plant. It was a box with a few windows near the roof and a worn loading dock. It wore its anonymity like a badge. A perfect cover for what was really going on. Cherry drove to the gate and pressed the talk button. A crackle of static answered her. “State your business,” a professional male voice commanded.

Cherry said, letting a tired professionalism settle into her voice, “Delivery. One unit.” There was a pause. The voice, sounding bored and mundane, asked, “Reference number?” Cherry immediately answered, “IR-96-72.” There was the sound of keyboard clicks in the background, then, “Condition of unit?” Cherry replied, “Contained and stabilized for transport.” Her voice continued to sound mundane and boring. “No breach of seal. No external contamination.”

If any three letter government agency was listening to the conversation, they would have been bored out of their mind like Cherry nearly was. Avoiding attention was the point of the protocol, so Cherry grudgingly followed it. The male voice asked, “Any compromise during acquisition?” “Negative,” Cherry answered. “Transfer was controlled. Clean chain of custody from point of retrieval.”

More keyboard clicks echoed faintly through the speaker. “Source classification?” She responded, “Mixed use public zone. Exposure window under five minutes. No secondary contact.” “Excellent,” the male voice said. “Unit meets the requirements for full cleanse. Proceed to docking bay three.”

The gate shuddered open on steel rails, dragging its teeth slowly on its track. Cherry waited until it finished, then drove the car inside and let the heavy silence of the facility envelop them. She parked as instructed and shut off the engine. The only sound in the car was the shallow breathing from the passenger seat.

When Cherry got out of the car she saw two male attendants waiting. She pointed to the passenger seat. The attendants wordlessly pulled Iris out of the car then placed her on a gurney. She thanked them in sign language. They both gave her a single nod.

The gurney’s wheels sang a long, mournful song as Cherry pushed it into the double doors of the facility. Iris mumbled something, but Cherry wasn’t concerned. She knew there was enough time to get Iris into Door 96 before the sedative wore off. They continued down the corridor, each squeak of the gurney echoing off walls. The halls were windowless, the air humid and scented with bleach.

They came to an elevator and Cherry wheeled Iris in. She pushed the button that took them down a few floors to a sublevel basement. The elevator doors slid shut. They were alone, descending. Halfway into the descent, Cherry’s phone pinged. She ignored the notification, knowing her phone was informing her of no reception. A long hallway greeted them when the elevator doors opened. Chilly air blasted through the vents from an air conditioner that worked too well. Cherry shivered while pushing the gurney all the way to Door 96.

She wheeled the gurney to a St. Andrew’s cross in the room. The cross lay flat on the floor. Cherry set the breaks to the gurney. Checking the time, Cherry noted she still had plenty of time left in the 72 hour window. It was always nice to be ahead of schedule. Cherry started stripping Iris with the efficiency of a nurse or doctor in an ER. Hands at Iris’ collar, then sliding down the buttons of the blouse, popping them one by one until it hung open. Her bra was an ugly utilitarian thing that easily slipped off her body. Cherry cupped Iris’ left breast and squeezed. She did the same with the right. Both were natural, as far as she could tell. Cherry didn’t like enhanced or completely fake breasts. She liked how Iris’ body looked and decided she might play with her after all.

The rest of Iris was revealed with the same methodical detachment. Cherry undid the button and zip of her jeans, and tugged them down past narrow hips and slim ankles. No resistance, but a faint animal groan escaped Iris’ mouth as Cherry peeled away the last of the fabric. Her panties were plain white. Cherry slid her panties off her body and checked Iris’ crotch. She poked two fingers between the thighs to confirm what she could see. Iris was indeed completely female and all natural. It was Cherry’s preferred victim type, at least when it wasn't a man, but she still sighed. Part of her hoped for a cock to play with. Her spirits didn’t dampen however. After all, once she was finished with Iris she could go to any other door of her choice. Unless of course Iris was good enough to wear Cherry out, but based on the file information Cherry doubted it.

With practiced hands, Cherry undid the wrist and ankle restraints on the cross. She slotted each of Iris’ limbs into the relevant restraint on the cross so that she was facing the ceiling. The leather cuffs were too large for Iris’ wrists; Cherry tightened them until the bones almost shifted. Her ankles were next, each buckle closed with a finality.

She moved around to the head. Iris’ face was flushed, a sheen of sweat pearling at her hairline. Her mouth hung open, jaw slack. A string of drool traced her cheek. Cherry cupped the back of Iris’ head and spoke, almost kindly, “Time to wake up, Iris.” She gave light slaps to Iris’ cheek to get her to wake up. At first, only the eyes fluttered. Then a gasp, sharp as a needle, and the blue irises rolled upward, trying to focus.

Iris jerked once, testing the restraints. Her breathing accelerated. The first sound she made was a high, animal whimper. Then, the panicked word salad. “Where am I? Why am I here? Please, please let me go please!” Cherry ignored her. She pressed a button on a wall panel that adjusted the lighting in the room. The light dimmed to where a glare fell directly into Iris’ face. The cross creaked as Iris pulled against it, hips bucking forward, wrists and ankles testing the cuffs.

“Let me go,” Iris repeated, voice frantic, words coming out in a froth of saliva. “I’ll do whatever you want, please just let me go.” Cherry smiled. She loved the reaction when people first woke up. It always got her in the mood. “What,” Cherry said, drawing the word out, “do you think is going to happen now?” She let the question hover, let Iris’ mind soak up the possibilities. Cherry knew how to read the panic in the twitches of lips, the frantic flicking of the eyes. That kind of fear was intoxicating.

“Please don’t hurt me! I haven’t done anything to anyone, please!” Cherry knelt on her knees beside her. Iris’ naked chest heaved, each breath a dry sob. Cherry smiled with her teeth and none of her eyes. She placed one hand on Iris’ face and stroked her cheek. “You haven’t done anything to anyone,” Cherry repeated, “are you sure?”

The question hung in the air. Truthfully, Cherry didn’t care if she was as innocent as Mother Teresa or as guilty as Ghislaine Maxwell. Iris’ voice sounded more frantic and desperate. “I don’t even know you. Please, I just want to go home.” Cherry loved how fearful and pathetic her voice sounded. “I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what you want.” She struggled and grunted against the restraints, but they held firm.

Cherry switched to sitting on her bottom. She bent over and moved her face close to Iris’. Her eyes widened with fear. “You are home now Iris.” This was always the best part, the moment when the subject started to become just another story. Cherry liked to imagine what would be written about her, if such things were ever written. She wondered if she’d be cast as a monster or just a footnote, another unremarkable cog in a much larger machine.

“You’re…you’re never letting me go?” Iris’ plea interrupted Cherry’s thoughts. Cherry shook her head. Iris then screamed as loud as she could, and Cherry just let her do it without flinching. She straddled Iris’ stomach just before she took another breath to scream. Iris decided to switch back to begging and pleading. “Please, please let me go,” she begged. “Why me? I haven’t done anything to anyone, I swear!”

As she was pleading, Cherry’s face got closer and closer to Iris’. She saw the moment of understanding in Iris’ face. “No, no, no get awamMMM!” Cherry pressed her lips against Iris’ mouth. Iris’ head thrashed as much as it could, but Cherry gripped her head to keep her in place. Cherry held the kiss, exploring the slack, protesting mouth with her tongue. Her lips softened, coaxed Iris’ lips open wider, deepening the violation. She pushed her tongue all the way in her pretty little mouth. Iris whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut. Cherry felt the tremble in Iris’ jaw, the shudder that meant part of Iris had broken. Her tongue withdrew, then Cherry lightly grazed her teeth against Iris’ lip, not to draw blood, just to savor the feeling of her mouth. Saliva stretched in a trembling strand between them.

“Ever been with a woman before?” Cherry asked. The probability of a past lesbian experience for Iris was low according to the file, but Cherry knew the vast majority of people considered having a homosexual experience at least once. Iris answered only with harsh, deep sobs. Cherry shrugged, “Doesn’t matter if you have or haven’t. You’ll learn quick enough.” she loudly said over her sobs. “Pleasure makes me happy. Me happy means you don’t get hurt,” She let venom drip from her voice at the last few words. Iris just kept sobbing.

Cherry didn’t care if Iris heard her or not. She would understand soon enough. Cherry took off her hoodie and started unbuttoning her blouse. Unlike Iris, Cherry did not wear a bra. Iris’ blue eyes widened and filled with tears. “We’ll start off simple,” Cherry said as her breast popped free of her clothing. She didn’t shrug off her blouse yet. “Suck my nipple.”

Cherry moved her breast closer and closer to Iris’ mouth. Iris stared up at the ceiling, trembling, her breathing raw and hard. The humiliation radiated off Iris in sobs and hot, noisy breaths. But Cherry just waited, hovering over her, one hand guiding the pale tear-streaked face, the other cupping her own breast, pinching the nipple to a firm hardness.

Iris kept her mouth clamped in a thin, white line. Cherry didn’t mind. She had all the time in the world. She slid her thumb down and pressed it into the seam of Iris’ lips, firm enough to hurt. “I said suck it,” Cherry said evenly, her voice soft and precise. “Or you get hurt.”

Cherry pressed her breast further into Iris’ face, smearing the teers on her cheek until the nipple grazed the trembling mouth. Iris tried to jerk her head away, the hard wood of the cross digging into the back of her skull. Cherry pinched harder until the lips trembled open, revealing the slack, shamed cavity of her mouth. Cherry pressed the nipple between the teeth, right at the edge of a bite, daring Iris to use those pretty little cuspids for more than crying. To her credit, Iris didn’t bite down. Instead, she closed her lips over the nipple, a trembling, acceptance of the inevitable.

Iris’ first pulls were stiff and awkward, as if she was being forced to do math homework with her mouth. Cherry’s breast was large enough to press on Iris’ nose and lips to a singular, intimate softness. After a moment, Iris found a rhythm, a tiny, shameful nursing. Cherry felt her whole body ache with it. She let out a moan, part performance, part real, and threaded her fingers through Iris’ hair.

“Good girl,” Cherry praised. She let Iris suck until the suction grew confident, greedy, and she used her other hand to unfasten the remaining buttons of her shirt, letting it swim off her shoulders and puddle at the floor. Cherry lingered in the warmth of Iris’ mouth, the rhythmic tugging sending tiny shocks through her body. “Keep going,” Cherry murmured. Iris sucked harder. Cherry drank in the moment. Her whole body tingled with the low, continuous suction, and she pressed herself harder against Iris’ mouth, feeling the woman’s jaw clench and unclench, the little flickers of resistance and humiliation.

A narcotic comfort bled through Cherry, sweet and thick. She let her head tip back and closed her eyes, savoring the knowledge that every desperate breath from Iris’ nose was filtered through the soft, yielding flesh of Cherry’s own breast. There was no sound in the chamber but the wet, rhythmic suck and the animal huff of Iris’ breathing.

Cherry pulled her breast back, making her nipple leave Iris’ mouth with a pop. Iris let out a gasp, but the respite was brief. Cherry didn’t bother with another warning. She pressed her other breast closer, pinning Iris’ cheek with soft skin until the mouth slackened in defeat and opened beneath the nipple. There was a pause, a shamed resistance, then the lips closed again and started sucking.

This nipple was even more sensitive, and Cherry let out a rougher moan, one that vibrated straight down her own spine. Iris’ tongue worked awkwardly at first, then found a rhythm. Again, the shame mortared the air between them. Something about the purity of it, the way Iris fed like a terrified infant, made Cherry’s cunt hungry with desire. Cherry let Iris nurse until her own thighs were trembling. She shuddered with the delayed crest of pleasure and loosed the woman’s hair with a careless afterthought. Iris lay beneath her cheeks wet with teers. Cherry could feel the damp heat blooming down where she wanted it most. She decided Iris was worthy of pleasuring her cunt and seeing her full naked form.

Cherry unbuttoned her pants and slowly slid them off. Then, she took off her panties and showed off her glorious beauty to Iris, who decided to start begging again. “Please let me go, please, I did what you wanted, please let me go!” Cherry let out a laugh, “You’re going to be here permanently,” she said. “You’re sick. HELP PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME!” Cherry laughed again, “Oh sweetie, if you think I’m sick wait until my boss has his way with you. You’ll beg for me to come back to you.”

She didn’t tell Iris the full truth, but that didn’t matter. Iris whimpered again, a tight internal sound that Cherry imagined was what a tooth might scream as a dentist drilled it raw. Cherry relished the whimper and told Iris “You’re going to eat my cunt now. Remember, pleasure makes me happy. Me happy means you don’t get hurt.” Cherry drew her knees around Iris’ head, caging her between pale thighs. She took a moment to savor the look of terror on Iris’ face.

Iris sobbed into her lap, the wet, snotty gasps muffled against Cherry’s thigh. She pressed her pussy to Iris’ lips and ground herself slowly, rhythmically, onto Iris’ mouth. The first instinct was always to clamp the jaw shut, to refuse, to fold up inside yourself in a last show of resistance. But Cherry had learned a hard, sudden slap to the side of the face always made someone open their mouth.

The slap landed sharp and flat, the sound like a struck match. Iris’ head rocked, and her mouth came open on reflex, shocked into compliance. Cherry wasted no time, grinding her cunt directly onto Iris’ lips, smearing herself across the trembling face. She clamped a hand on either side of that delicate jaw, thumbs pressing almost lovingly into the joints, guiding Iris’ mouth into the proper shape and pressure. It was never pleasant at first, but Cherry could be patient for a brief period of time.

“Tongue,” Cherry hissed, punctuating with a staccato roll of her hips. She felt the hesitant, tentative flicker, the melt of resistance into something primal and desperate. Cherry had gamed out every possible reaction, every way a body could try to deny or escape, and she had a counter for each. A quick tweak of the nipple, a hand twisted into the hair, two fingers pinching the nose shut. This time, she opted for the hair pull.

She yanked Iris’ head up, just enough to make her uncomfortable, her lips forced open by the pressure. Cherry ground her pelvis against Iris’ face, the heat of it, the slick friction, the realness of her own need radiating out and soaking into her mouth. At first Iris’ tongue was a useless thing, a petal curled back from a hard wind, but Cherry pressed her in, nose to clit, and waited out the instinctive struggle.

Iris gagged, her jaw trembling and her breath sucking hot and quick through her nose. Cherry didn’t let up. She rode the mouth until the tongue gave in, tentative at first, then a little more frantic. She kept her hands tangled in Iris’ hair, holding her in place, hips moving with a slow, grinding patience.

Cherry’s thighs trembled with exertion, her lungs burning from shallow panting. She bore down harder, pelvis pressed flush to Iris’ unwilling mouth, shuddering as she felt the tongue between her folds, clumsy and graceless. Another wet, guttural sob vibrated against her, and she drew it in, savoring the power, every inch of humiliation she could wring from the moment.

She permitted herself a small shudder, something low and electric, equal parts triumph and vindication. The wet, animal noise of Iris’ compliance spurred her on, and Cherry worked herself harder and faster. Built on the bedrock of shame and terror, the pleasure always came slow and jagged, like dragging a tongue down a razor’s edge. Cherry leaned in, nose filling with salt and the animal stink of fear, and let herself be worshipped by a thing that hated her. She forced the rhythm to stutter, relishing the way Iris’ jaw pulsed beneath her, the subtle recoil each time she moved just a hair too far, a hair too close.

The tongue at first fluttered in half hearted licks, but as Cherry ground her clit against the bridge of the captive’s nose, instinct did what willpower could not. Iris licked and lapped, a drowning woman gulping down water she couldn’t spit out, and Cherry’s cunt responded with a surge of heat so sharp it burned. Cherry let out a scream as the orgasm snuck up on her, making her body tremble, her breath coming in gasps.

“Now you’ve been with a woman,” Cherry commented. Iris only answered with uncontrollable sobs. Cherry considered playing with Iris more, but her pussy hungered for cock. She could play with Iris using a double dildo, but it wouldn’t be the same. Decision made, she pressed a button on the wall panel. The St. Andrew’s cross slowly rose to a standing position from the floor.

Iris’ reaction to the cross moving was pure panic. She shrieked until her voice bent in half, sound shredding at the edges. It was musical, in a way, the way the human throat could rip itself into ribbons and yet still make noise. Cherry turned her back on Iris. Cherry plucked her clothing from the floor, relishing the cold air against her flushed, sticky skin as she dressed. A sterile, mechanical hum rose behind her as the cross locked into place upright.

Cherry pressed a button on the wall panel to exit the room. The door opened with a whoosh. At an interface just outside the room, Cherry pushed a yellow button and made a recording. “Subject: Iris, fully female with all natural parts. 24 years old. Forced to suck both nipples and eat pussy after initial capture. My time with her was probably her first or second lesbian experience. Her will hasn’t been fully broken yet.” She pressed the yellow button again and her voice replayed the message.

Satisfied with what she recorded, Cherry pressed a black button to save the recording. She walked down the hallway back towards the elevator. “Hmmm,” she thought aloud, “what kind of cock do I want inside me…” The answer came to her in a flash. “Door 69 had that yummy big black cock.” Cherry smiled and walked to Door 69 to have another round, probably two, with the man whose cock would surely satisfy her hungry cunt…
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I had fun with this one. Give Cherry an assignment from the mysterious organization she's part of and just let her loose.