The rain outside was an endless roar, drowning out my screams as he grabbed my head and forced his cock into my mouth. He was rough, thrusting hard and deep, his fingers digging into my hair, pulling painfully. The taste was nauseating, salty and bitter, and my throat choked against the invasion. Tears welled up in my eyes as I gasped for breath, unable to move. The ground was cold and hard beneath me, each thrust a brutal assault, accompanied by the patter of rain that sounded like cruel applause.
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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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Dark stories and the most horrific secrets are my specialty. In the heat of purgatory, I not only hear the stories of murderers and rapists, but the experiences of poor, innocent girls are also no stranger to me.
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- This story ist part of the Used and Abused Tournament
- It competes against Code 10-40 in the R16-7 match
- Theme: Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire
Tears in the rain
I'd just had a stressful day at university. The lectures dragged on like chewing gum, the air in the lecture hall was stuffy, and the discussions in the seminar group are boring. It was one of those days when I felt like an overheated engine about to burn out. So, I laced up my running shoes, put on my white shirt and tight running pants, and set off for the circular walk around the lake. Jogging was my outlet, my way to clear my head.
The lake lay like a dark mirror in the city, large and expansive, lined by a mix of lively promenades and quiet, overgrown stretches of shore. On one side, where the promenade ran, couples and families strolled, children threw stones into the water, and the kiosk on the shore exuded the smell of hot fries and sweet ice cream. Further along the circular walk, things became quieter. Tall reeds swayed in the wind, oaks and willows cast long shadows, and the sounds of the city faded, replaced by the chirping of crickets and the occasional splash of a fish. The ground was softer here, muddy in places, and the air smelled of damp earth and wet leaves. I loved this section of the trail; the solitude calmed me.
I walked at a steady pace, my breathing heavy but controlled. The sky was gray, the clouds hung low, and I felt the first drops when I was halfway through the loop. The rain came suddenly. Within minutes, my white shirt was soaked, clinging to my skin like a second layer. My sports bra was clearly visible underneath, the contours of my breasts unmistakable. I cursed under my breath—why hadn't I chosen a dark shirt? The rain was pouring down harder now, cold drops running down my face and arms, soaking my hair. I looked around and spotted a small shelter, half-open with a wooden roof, perhaps ten meters from the path, hidden among tall bushes. Without hesitation, I ran toward it, glad to escape the rain.
The shelter was small, with a packed earth floor and the smell of old wood. I shook the water out of my hair, wiped my face, and tried to steady my breathing. My skin prickled from the cold, and I pulled my arms around myself to retain some warmth. The rain drummed ever louder on the roof.
Then I noticed him. A man was standing on the bank, perhaps twenty meters away, a fisherman who had cast his rods. He was older, perhaps mid-fifties, overweight, with a thick face and an unkempt beard hanging in gray strands over his chin. His clothes were dirty: a baggy jacket and pants stained at the knees. He turned around, and his eyes immediately fixed on me. An unpleasant feeling crept up my spine as he grinned and started moving. "Hey, sweetie," he called, his voice ragged and slimy. His gaze slid over my body, lingering on my soaked shirt, and I felt my stomach clench.
He came closer, entering the cabin, and the space suddenly felt too small. The rain continued to pelt, a monotonous roar that swallowed the world outside. "Wet, huh?" he said, his grin widening as his eyes scanned my chest. I took a step back, my heart beginning to race. "I'm just going to take cover for a bit," I said, my voice was firmer than I felt.
But he was coming closer, much too close. The smell of sweat and cheap aftershave filled my nostrils. "No problem, sweetie, I'll keep you warm." His hand shot out, grabbed my arm, and I tore myself free. He was too strong, my resistance was weak, a desperate wriggling that achieved nothing. He pushed me into the corner of the hut, his hands grabbing my shoulders, my hips, my butt. "Let me go!" I screamed, my voice fearful in panic. His grip was like a vice, his fingers digging into my skin, and his breath stank of tobacco and alcohol as he leaned over me.
"Stop wriggling," he growled, and suddenly his hand was between my legs, rough and impatient. I screamed, swatted at him, but he was too heavy, his weight pressing me against the wall. His fingers groped, found the waistband of my pants, and pulled them down with a yank. I felt the harsh cold of the floor against my legs as he pushed me to the ground. My pants slipped down to my knees, and his fingers going under my underwear, finding my pussy. A shudder of disgust ran through me, mixed with a hot, pulsing terror. His arousal was palpable, his breathing heavy and his body pressed against mine as the rain continued to pound outside, a dull, relentless sound.
He ripped open his pants, and his cock sprang out, hard and threateningly close to my face. "Open your mouth," he commanded, his voice growling deep. I refused, turning my head away, and a searing pain exploded on my cheek as he slapped me. "Do it, or I'll slit your throat," he hissed, pulling a long, gleaming fishing knife from his pocket. "And don't you bite."
The rain outside was an endless roar, drowning out my screams as he grabbed my head and forced his cock into my mouth. He was rough, thrusting hard and deep, his fingers digging into my hair, pulling painfully. The taste was nauseating, salty and bitter, and my throat choked against the invasion. Tears welled up in my eyes as I gasped for breath, unable to move. The ground was cold and hard beneath me, each thrust a brutal assault, accompanied by the patter of rain that sounded like cruel applause.
So, he took my mouth. His gasps mingled with my gagging, saliva running down my chin. It lasted barely two minutes. Suddenly he came, a hot, disgusting gush in my mouth, half-splattering my face as he withdrew. I coughed, choked, and sank to the ground, whimpering, numb with shock and disgust. My body shook uncontrollably, my mind a whirl of fear and shame. "And now I'm going to fuck your ass," he breathed, his breath hot and sickening against my ear, his cock already hard again.
In a burst of desperate strength, my hand reached for something I could defend myself with and found a branch lying inside the hut. I swung with all my might, hitting his head with a dull thud. He staggered, cursing loudly. I seized the moment, jumped up, pulled up my pants, and ran. My legs trembled, but I forced them to move, running blindly through the rain that lashed my face. I ignored the cold, the wet, the pain in my body—my only goal was to get away, as far as possible, as fast as possible.
I ran, my legs shaking beneath me as I stumbled through the rain. I repeatedly turned my head, my gaze darting frantically over my shoulder, scanning the shadows between the trees to see if he was following me. My heart pounded, every breath burned in my lungs, and my eyes scanned the area for his massive form. The rain lashed my face, cold drops ran down my cheeks, my forehead, and I tasted the salt of my tears mixed with the rainwater. The semen that had splashed down my face was long gone, washed away by the relentless torrents that cleansed my skin, but not the memory. My throat was raw, my stomach a hard knot, and a voice in my head screamed: Run, run, run, he mustn't get you.
After what felt like an eternity, my breathing began to calm down. My steps became more even as I left the lonely, overgrown part of the lake behind me. I reached the eastern shore, where the promenade became busier again. Families strolled under umbrellas despite the rain, an elderly couple sat on a bench, and the kiosk glowed in the distance like a small glimmer of hope. People. Safety. I felt the panic slowly recede, like a wave receding. He wasn't behind me. He was gone, swallowed by the rain and the trees.
My only goal now was the police. I wanted to report to him, I wanted him to pay for what he'd done to me. The police station, however, was almost three kilometers away, and the thought nagged at me: By the time I got there, he'd be long gone, blending in with the city and the crowds.
I tried to clear my mind as I continued walking. Should I turn around? Maybe he had parked a car nearby. A license plate number would have helped me identify him. But the idea fizzled out—I hadn't seen a car, and the chances of finding him were slim.
"Can we help you?" A voice pulled me out of my train of thought. I flinched, my gaze falling on two men in orange jackets—paramedics standing next to an ambulance parked at the edge of the promenade. They looked concerned, their faces friendly, but I felt a pang of uncertainty. I didn't want to talk, didn't want strangers to see me like this—drenched, trembling, vulnerable. But then I tasted blood in my mouth. My lower lip was swollen, throbbed painfully from the angler's slap. I touched it with my fingers and winced when I saw the blood.
"I... I was attacked," I finally stammered, my voice shaky. "Please, can you take me to the police?" The paramedics nodded and led me to the ambulance. One of them, a man with short hair and a gentle smile, sat down next to me and gently dabbed my lip with an antiseptic wipe. The other, taller, with a bushy mustache, handed me a bottle of water. "Drink this, you look like you could use it," he said. I gratefully took the bottle, sipping as the burning in my throat subsided.
But the car didn't move. I waited, my hands clutching the water bottle, but the vehicle stopped. A bad feeling crept up inside me. The paramedics began to chat as if I weren't there. "Looks good, despite the rain," said the one with the mustache, grinning. "Those nipples are really showing, huh?" The other laughed softly. "No wonder that guy wanted to fuck her." My throat tightened. Her words were like knife-like stabbing, and I wanted to say something, wanted to scream, but my voice failed me. I tried to stand up, but my legs suddenly felt heavy, like a lead. My arms wouldn't obey me anymore; my body was paralyzed.
"Don't worry," said the one with the mustache, his voice cold and amused. "The stuff in the water works fast. You'll feel everything, but you won't be able to move." My heart was racing, panic flickered in my eyes, the only thing I could control. They'd given me something, a medicine or maybe a drug, that paralyzed me, left me at their mercy, trapped in my own body.
The ambulance, a place that should have meant safety and help, became a trap. They pulled my shirt over my head, carelessly ripping it off. My pants followed, then my underwear, until I was naked, exposed on the car's cold stretcher. My eyes screamed my fear, but my body remained motionless, a silent prisoner. I had escaped a nightmare only to land in an even worse one.
One of the two, the one with short hair, lay down on the stretcher, his body heavy and warm beneath me. They lifted me, positioning me like an object, and I felt his cock enter my pussy, hard and relentless. The other knelt behind me, his hands roughly grabbing my hips, and I felt his cock slide between my buttocks, forcing its way into my ass. The pain was stabbing through my body. They moved in sync, a rhythmic, brutal double penetration that tossed my body between them. One thrust deep into my pussy, his movements rough, while the other filled my ass, each thrust harder and deeper. My skin was cold, but their bodies were hot, sweating, and the contrast made me shudder. The car rocked slightly, the pattern of rain outside a distant echo, while their panting breaths and the slapping of skin on skin filled the car. I was like a doll, helpless, while they raped me, my panic a silent scream in my eyes.
Finally, they came, both deep inside me, a hot, sickening gush filling my body. One moaned loudly, his grip on my hips tightening, while the other released himself inside me with a low growl. I lay there, trapped in my paralyzed body, as the world around me sank into darkness.
I escaped the frying pan and into the fire.
