The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts and abuse between adults. I in no way mean this to be an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities between the characters in the story and real people are unintentional and coincidental.
The Trigger Event
June/July Community Contest
Millie Dynamite
© Copyright 2025 by Millie Dynamite
“Case dismissed,” Judge Dudley said, banging his gavel. “And young lady, don’t ever file a false rape report again, or you’ll be the one doing the time.” The accusation stung her as much as the dismissal at the preliminary hearing.Millie Dynamite
© Copyright 2025 by Millie Dynamite
With that, Dudley gestured to his bailiff, who said, “All rise.” Marching out of the courtroom, the judge sealed his fate and that of the defendant.
The bastard drugged her. Raped her. Imani trusted the system. It failed her. The cold-hearted employer would never have bested her in a fair fight. Never would he have taken advantage of her without the aid of Etorphine. Having shot her with a tranq-dart, he immobilized her with leather restraints. After that, he waited until she woke.
Then fucked her in all her holes, holding a gun to her head.
Veterinarian Hans Goeth was never a good boss, but what he did to her created an obsession. Thanks to the bribe, the evidence never saw the light of day. Should her vengeance ever be discovered, the entire city, hell, the whole world, would recognize she had the right to do what she would do.
The plan sprang fully formed into Imani’s 23-year-old mind. And just like that, she understood how to capture them, where to take them, and what she’d do to Judge Thomas Dudley and Hans Goeth, her former boss, who raped her in his office.
She captured the judge first. Using a stun gun in the county parking structure as he unlocked his car. Then transporting him in his own baby-blue Lincoln ‘68 Continental to haul his sorry, corrupt ass to the old warehouse. Hours later, he woke. Finding himself chained to an X cross, Dudley was naked, his chin resting at the top joint of the upward V, staring at a cinderblock wall.
“How much did he pay you?” Imani asked.
“Miss Hughes, is that you?”
“Yes,” she said, while striking his back with a cat-of-nine.
A guttural shriek filled the room, echoing off the walls.
"Nothing."
“Liar.” Another blow from the other side.
“Oh, fuck,” he said, screaming in agony.
It took her 12 lashes, 108 welts on his back, before he shouted, “Ten-thousand.”
Moving close, Imani’s hands roamed over the wounds, and despite the pain, he stiffened. With her other hand, she cupped his enormous balls and thumbed his tiny prick. As it spat cum, in less than thirty seconds, she laughed.
“Fucking, Nigger whore,” Dudley said.
Grasping her hand into a fist, she crushed the package and twisted. The screaming turned into something desperate, more animal than human.
“Be polite to this black woman, or I’ll bring more pain than you can endure.” Releasing her grip, the young veterinary assistant walked to a table and returned. The prick of the needle punctured his ass; that little pain terrified him more.
“What’s that?” he asked as a numbness passed over his ass, radiating outward.
“Don’t worry, you aren’t dying... yet,” Imani said as he went under.
Getting him down, she put a shock collar around his neck and trapped him in a small dog cage. Leaving, she went to catch the original author of her grief. Thanks to his lawyer, the hearing took more than a year. Indeed, Imani Hughes’s justice would be much swifter.
Fortunately for Imani, her new employer would never miss the drugs she took. Dr. Ziegler was well acquainted with Goeth and hired Miss Hughes without hesitation. Understanding full well that his competitor had done what she claimed. For a moment, Imani considered telling Greg Ziegler her intentions. Soon, Imani dismissed the idea.
Two people can only keep a secret once one of them is dead.
Neither the judge nor his car would be missed for days, so Imani didn’t worry about using the luxury classic to get around the city. Camping out in a parking lot, across the street from the vet’s clinic, she waited for him to leave. She worked for him from the day after she graduated from high school, and over the years, she memorized his routine.
The gym, the shower, the restaurant, followed by a bar on Friday and Saturday night, and straight home weeknights. Leaving at 7:00 pm, several hours late, on this Friday night, she followed him carefully.
The parking lot and the gym were empty. Nothing could be better.
The night he raped her, she palmed the keycard to his gym. She trained for a full year. Taking boxing. Returning to Master Ying’s dojo. Improving her taekwondo skills. Wearing a sleek black bodysuit, a mask, and fighting shoes, she took a deep breath before approaching the door.
Pushing the card into the slot, the light turned green. The stupid bastards never changed the code after Goeth reported it missing. What luck! With one quick motion, she pulled the key free and entered the building. With his back to her, Hans jumped rope in the center of a large mat. He didn’t hear the door. Didn’t realize his luck had run out two days before.
Standing a few feet behind him, she said, “Excuse me, is this place where I kick your ass?”
Freezing, the rope stuck to his ankles, he dropped it and turned to face her.
In two steps, she snap-kicked him in the face. Staggering back, he didn’t quite go down. Charging her, head ducked, she sidestepped his advance. Doing a spin, she booted his butt, driving him stumbling to the mat.
Taking a handful of hair, she dragged him to his feet.
“Remember me.”
Releasing his hair, sweeping her left foot, Imani struck Hans Goeth’s left cheek and knocked him to the ground, and he landed, knocked out cold, on the floor. For good measure, she kicked him in the face again.
“Would have been more fun if you tried to defend yourself, pussy.” Hoisting him to her shoulder, she carried him to the waiting Lincoln. Dumping him inside the trunk, she gave him an injection as well.
“Sleep well, sweet prince, for the rest is silence until the morrow. When I give you pain right down to the marrow.”
The sunlight streamed through shutters high on the eastern wall of the warehouse. Casting strips over the two men lying in a ten-by-ten cage. They were still out at 7:30 am when Imani Hughes hit the buzzer. Waking, they gazed at each other, both naked, unbound, in what appeared to be an MMA fighting ring.
Imani stood, legs spread, hands on her hips, on an elevated platform. Suspended from a cable reaching up into the rafters, a microphone hung in front of her.
“The rules of competition are simple. You fight. The stronger fucks the weaker down his throat, and up his ass. If the first one who takes it in the throat manages to free himself, he might prove himself by gouging the other’s mouth and ass. It must be throat first, ass second. Once we have that winner, the one who defiles the other twice, I’ll determine the manner of execution. After one of you rapes both holes and kills the other, the victor goes free.”
“What the fuck?” the judge says.
“What the fuck indeed.”
Reaching behind her, she retrieved a rifle and slapped it in the palm of one hand.
“The rules are clear: fight now, or I’ll give both non-vital wounds. You’re going to fight, you’re going to fuck, even if I have to shoot the two of you more than once. If you don’t, I’ll do the job myself, fuck rape both of you and kill both of you.”
The two men were obsessed with staying in shape. Only one had much of a dick, but she didn’t care who won and who lost. She told the truth, up to a point. The judge sprang to his feet, rushed to the other. The two men clutched each other, trying to force their opponent to the floor. Kicks, punches, and tearing at flesh.
After a bit, the judge lost ground, and the rapist gained the advantage. Picking up Thomas, Hans hammered the judge to the mat. Dudley was dazed, disoriented, and couldn’t get to his feet. In a flash, Goeth was on him, knees pinning down his shoulders; Hans’s cock stiffened in the first few minutes of the conflict. Shoving a thumb into the judge’s mouth, spread his jaws apart and thrust violently into Thomas Dudley’s mouth. Conquering a man, making him suck his cock turned into something exhilarating.
His heartbeat raced, the adrenaline surged, and endorphins flooded him.
Tears streamed down the judge’s face. The micro cock stretched larger than he’d ever had it. Fear took a toll. The shame of being beaten. Of sucking another man. It all filled him to the verge of breaking. Flop sweat covered him, the snotty saliva coated his mouth, and the sounds of it disgusted him.
The prick sliding into his throat, pulling back, and the glower on Hans’s face made his cheeks glow pink. A sense of helplessness overwhelmed him. The fact that his cock stiffened and a terrible truth, latent as it was, added to his distress. The homosexual experimentation of his youth burst into his conscious mind.
With that awful memory came a new surge of energy. Lifting his back, Dudley twisted and threw off Goeth. Jumping on top of the man, he shoved his cock at Han’s mouth. It exploded cum over the other man’s lips, in thick rivulets shot down his throat, viscous streams over his eyes, nose, and cheeks.
The combination of all the emotional roller coasters took a toll, and Judge Dudley collapsed, passing out. By the time he woke, Hans had him face down. Imani tossed in a tube of cheap lube oil. Goeth slobbered it on his prick, squeezed a glob onto the judge’s shithole, and jabbed into him.
Judge Thomas Dudley’s screeches were shrill and feminine, like a soprano hitting a note too high for her range. With each new thrust, Dudley lost some cum. It spread under his belly, lubricating the mat, as Hans Goeth drove him across the floor a few inches at a time.
The power of ripping his penis into the judge’s unwilling anus was invigorating. The juices inside him rushed; his mind did the same. He was going to live, and the judge would die. But he’d have the last laugh. Once she released him, he’d gather a few men to gang rape and kill her for him.
The thought of that caused him to climax. Thick hot ropes flooded the judge’s shitter, and the shame of it became intolerable. The small trickle from his member became a flood. The collapse wasn’t fast.
Hans held himself up, not falling down on top of the other man for some time. Like a slow leak in a balloon, the two men relaxed. All the aggression spent, they went limp. The one man covered the other. Their gasping turned to shallow breathing, after a bit, to long, slow ones.
Cocks softened. With a slurp, Goeth withdrew, rolled off Dudley, and lay on his back looking at the ceiling above them. The judge rolled into a fetal ball, crying, hugging himself. A high-pitched squeal, a snap, the crack of air, a dull thunk, followed by the sting of impact. The judge drifted off to sleep, hearing the dart gun fire again.
Goeth had enough time to pull the dart out and gaze at her before he went under.
The ache in Dudley’s ass and arms woke him. The stench of ammonia assaulted him. Opening his eyes, the judge perceived a shape in front of him. A blurry, unfocused form slowly solidified. It was her, Imani Hughes, the architect of the fight. In a matter of seconds, he realized he was back on the X cross. Facing away from it this time. Legs spread, restrained in place. The tranquilizer kept him in a fog.
In the woman’s swarthy hand, a scalpel, which moved to his neck. A sharp, piercing, small, warm blood spurt hit his shoulder, surged in tiny streams. Pulsing away from him, some falling on him.
“Hope you live long enough to see what I do to your friend.”
On a small squat workbench, Thomas Dudley made out Hans Goeth, feet tied to the legs on one side, arms to those on the other side. A tremor ran through him. When he tried to speak, he realized he was gagged.
The surge of blood strengthened as he weakened. Squirts became gushes, and the wild sprays.
The black woman stood before him, in focus, her ebony body glistening in the failing light. He wondered if he was dying as the pain worsened, nerves burning, mind slipping. She wore a harness with a massive, black, rubber cock. Thrusting into Han’s mouth, well down his throat, as she fucked his face.
“Do you like that, you piece of shit?” she asked and humped the cock deep inside him.
Drool running from his mouth turned to slobber as she hammered home. It lasted ten minutes, two hours, or five seconds, but it was the final image that made it through the fog of death for Judge Thomas Dudley.
When she finished with his throat, she decided against the oil and fucked his ass with even more vigor.
As she violated him repeatedly, he kept saying, “You’re letting me go, right?”
Goeth wasn’t sure how long she fucked him before he passed out. When he woke, he was in the back of the classic Lincoln, next to the corpse of the dearly departed city magistrate. The ball gag that had been in Thomas’s mouth now prevented him from talking.
The woman, dressed in her ninja outfit, stood with her hands on the trunk lid and slammed it shut. The drive took thirty minutes. All the while, Hans screamed into the gag. Begging but incoherently, due to the ball in his mouth, for Imani to keep her promise. When the car stopped, crunching on gravel as it did, the sound of a gate whining open told him they’d reached the destination.
The Lincoln rolled into wherever they were. Engines fired up, the vehicle lurched, and lifted off the ground. The car’s swaying told him he was in the air. The car’s crash told him he had been dropped. The deck opened again.
She gazed down at him.
“My parents’ house is two yards that way,” she said, pointing off to some distant point he couldn’t see. “We’re at Dad’s old junk yard.”
“This beauty,” she said, smacking a yellow metal wall next to the car, “is Pops’s auto baler. Going to mash you two up and dump you in the pond. It’s going to hit a wrinkle when the metal of the car meets your body. Hans, old buddy, ole pal of mine, when you hear the grind get louder, it’ll be the last sound you hear.”
She wasn’t lying that time.
The warehouse fire appeared to be an act of arson. The police put out a BOLO for Dr. Goeth. It was the second fire in one of his closed properties. Try as they might, they didn’t find him. After two weeks, Hans Goeth’s disappearance hit the news. With his business bank accounts and those in the Cayman Islands emptied, he figured he’d fled the country.
Another two weeks passed, and the judge hadn’t returned from his vacation, and that was all the anchors wanted to talk about. The police were looking for him as well. Multiple allegations of judicial misconduct had them hot on his trail. His bank accounts had been drained. The alleged bribes were tallied in the hundreds of thousands of dollars.
As an afterthought, and only for the appearance of due diligence, Detective Jack Morse questioned rape victim Imani Hughes.
“Listen,” he said, standing at her door, hat in hand, “I don’t want to bother you, but I need to ask you a few questions about Judge Dudley and your attacker, Dr. Goeth.”
Pouring him a cup of coffee, she sat in front of the detective and, sitting next to him, placed her cup near him.
“Ask away.”
Ten minutes later, he stood, satisfied she’d done nothing.
“Hey, Imani, you understand, you were never a suspect or even a person of interest. I’m just—”
She cut him off.
“Doing your job. I’ll be honest with you, if someone killed them and disposed of their bodies, I would love to give him a medal.”
“Actually, I feel the same way.”
That night, Imani searched the internet for someone else who got away with rape or murder. This was just the beginning.
idk if you’ve ever seen Girl with The Dragon Tattoo 
but there’s some rape-revenge themes in that movie too.
…
gotta a secret, can u keep it? Swear this one you’ll save, better lock it in ur pocket, taking this one to the grave…
I liked that you not only used the literal setting of a court room to open ur story but also the ever present indirect usage of the theme in your judge character.
obsessed
speaking of that revenge…
having them fight for small scraps of dignity was wild work 
I kinda thought the vet dude was gonna win too since u went out of ur way to emphasis the judge’s small penis…and shocking prejudice. I was confident there was no way some small dicked racist was gonna get the upper hand so I felt validated when the veterinarian won—I hated the judge so much u had me rooting for a rapist out here 
That was a fun read. We have a lot of "bad men doing bad things to women" stories here, so occasionally it's nice to see a rapist and a racist judge get their comeuppance. I approve. 
I think my instinct would be to keep it as is.