Raping the drunk teacher
Introduction:
a young teacher learns that it doesn’t pay to drink too much when your students are around. Especially when they’re longing for revenge.
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She was looking at me again, with those big hazel eyes which narrowed whenever they beheld me. Currently they were narrow enough to pass off as those of an angry cat. And as usual, I was the mouse.
“Completed the work ?” her voice was unusually low, another danger sign. I opened my notebook, its blank pages foretelling my doom. By this time she was at my desk, her heavy breasts just inches from my shoulder as she bent over me, peering with artificial interest into what evidently wasn’t a repository of wisdom. At other times I would have been acutely aware of the faint scent emanating from those heavy globes which threatened to meet my shoulder blades, but the situation was too dangerous. I shifted an inch, trying to not to add any new cause of irritation. It didn’t help much.
She picked it up, and waved it like a wand before the class, which was half trembling and half sniggering (depending on whether they’d done the work or not), and threw it onto the table, or rather into my girlfriend’s skirt. The equally scared girl picked it up and placed it timidly on the table. Hers was picked up, waved and slammed (into my lap) in turn. “Meet me after class, both of you.”
In a moment her gaze was lifted from us, and she was gone. I mouthed a few expletives as I smoothed the pages of my poor ignorant notebook, before managing a watery smile for the rest of the class. A hand tapped my shoulder from the back, “Hey man, seems like the Witch is on the warpath today. Better copy mine for now. You can give me a treat later.” It was Ranvir, choir leader and class topper. And my guardian angel.
Suffice it to say that the rest of the class, indeed the rest of the day went passed under the shadow of the evil one, who appeared at distressingly short intervals at all incovenient places, including the small tool shed where I was trying to console my girlfriend. Not that there was much to do, we could look forward to another scolding, followed by a grounding with more homework. Sometimes I counted the days till the last year of my school would end and I’d sign up for the merchant mavy like my dad did. It’d take me away from Ria (my girlfriend) and the other guys, but unless I drowned, I could always come back with a stuffed bank account and ask for her hand in marriage from her father (as I eventually did).That was in the future however. For now, we had to endure a none too adventurous or profitable extra hour with the least pleasant of our teachers.
Time moves remarkably fast when fate has set a date with you, and in no time we found ourselves standing before her room. Ria was trembling from head to foot. She usually wasn’t in trouble, being good in studies and a “good” girl to boot. If she had been any less of an angel, she’d have squarely blamed the fiasco on me. She didn’t, and I tried to show my appreciation by knocking. “Come in” a bored voice responded.
Using Ria as a human shield, I followed. ‘Close the door’ I complied. Normally people ask visitors, even students, to sit. But she didn’t bother. Instead, she continued to read some journal, while we stood like lambs that’d arrived early for slaughter. After a moment, I reached out and held Ria’s hand, lest she collapse from suspense. It seemed to calm her a little, and she even managed to give me a wan smile. My heart skipped a beat.
It skipped another as Ria pulled away, her body stiffening as I felt a feline gaze upon me. She was looking at me with those eyes again, perhaps contemplating what to do. “Your copies please” It took me by surprise, and by the time I was fidgeting with my bag Ria had already handed hers. She flicked the pages lazily, her hazel irises travelling over them without reading anything. Unfortunately for her, Ria’s copy was on average more complete than mine, and except for that day’s fateful class, she couldn’t find much to complain about. Infact, had she not been a new teacher, she may well have not bothered to call Ria : finding fault with her was a tough job. It also took sometime, as she was hell bent on finding fault. The net result of this was to scare the poor girl to the point of fainting, while making me feel a little pissed at this unjust trial. By the time she finished, Ria’s pretty face had gone white, her face sporting a look akin to one being led to the gallows. Without a word, she took back her notebook and put it in her bag. I gave her a thumbs up below the level of the desk, before handing in mine.
To my credit (and relief), the first half of the notebook, corresponding to the classes of the earlier teacher, was relatively complete, and even she couldn’t find fault. She then found her own class’ notes, and her expression turned. Looking up, she gave a false smile “do you find my classes difficult ?”
“N-no ma’m” Ria stammered, causing my hand to poke her before she wrecked my case. Giving as big a smile as possible, I spoke at the speed of my heart beat “Not much ma’m, but you see the topic is a bit difficult. Plus I was a little unwell in the last-”
“Enough! You will complete the work, and whatever isn’t there, will have to be done twice over.The second copy in a separate notebook, which I will check. And….”
She took out a notepad, much like a doctor’s. Our school had dispensed with the system of school diaries, instead using this method coupled with phone calls directly to the guardian/parent’s number. It was now my turn to tremble a little, as she began to scribble something. But as she began the third line, somethind buzzed, and she jumped. It turned out that she had kept her mobile in the folds of her saree, and the gadget had afforded us some comic relief. Before I could open my jaws in laughter however, she had resumed her composure. Tearing off the sheet and throwing it in the bin, she began to write afresh.
But now the phone began to buzz insistently, forcing her to abandon the judgment pad and pick up the call. The caller apparently was quite agitated, as the Witch listened with deepening creases on her forehead, before adding a “I’ll be there.” and hanging up. She stood up with a flustered look on her face. “What are you staring at me for ? Get out!” The pad lay forgotten. We both rushed out, our jailor locking the door behind us.
The school was deserted, and after giving an explanation to the gatekeeper, the two of us, with the Witch hot on our heels, walked out of the gates. A car was waiting outside, and dived into the backseat. The car sped off, leaving us amid its fumes. For a moment neither of us moved, she being too stunned to act and I hoping the witch was truly gone. She was, the car having disappeared round the bend. That left us alone, and my girl took the opportunity to exhale after an eternity. I sighed, realizing belatedly that her preoccupation had saved me a grounding. Taking Ria’s hand, I began walking towards my house (and hers, we living in the same society).
“That was close eh ? Another moment and I’d be carrying my arrest warrant home”
Ria wasn’t usually the most optimistic of people, and she was unusually crestfallen today. I changed my carefree tone to a more concerned one, trying to persuade her not to tell her parents, that nothing really had gone wrong. By the time I had had any amount of success, we were at the entrance of the complex, and I had to let go of her hand lest some moral policewoman protest. Soon we parted at her house’s entrance, and I walked the remaining distance, making a mental note to ask Ranvir for another favour.
My parents weren’t home when I reached the door. My dad’s in the civil services, mom is a physician. Which means we have plenty of money but little time. Atleast for me. I parked my bag on the sofa and proceeded to raid the fridge. Yet before I could open it, a sticky note caught my attention. Attached in a hurry, it merely read that I should be ready for a formal occasion by 7 PM. The remainder of the note detailed my clothing. I silently swore, knowing the damage this worthless farce of a social occasion would do to my prospects of avoiding a teacher’s note the next day.
As I pondered over how to avoid this predicament, I discovered that the larder was in fact empty. My mom had had a series of night shifts and me and dad had survived on takeaways. Today he had told me he’d dine at office (some dignitary being honoured) and I should bring something on the way home. I hadn’t.
My mind echoing the curses of my tummy, I pawed through the pile of leaflets and called KFC. I checked my wallet, made the order, and went off to shower. The delivery came just as I was putting on my shorts. Rushing down topless, I opened the door took the order, made the payment and fell upon the food instantly. By the time I was done, another half hour had passed and I just had three in which to get my work done. No point calling in Ranvir now, I’d have to do what I could. With my stomach satiated and my mind quite the opposite, I collected the relevant stuff on the dining table and got to work.
I won’t say I’m terrible in the subject, rather I’m bad at meeting deadlines. So by the time it was seven, I had only got round to doing a third of the allotted work. The bell rang, and the moment I unlatched the door both parents stormed in, demanding that I transform instantly from a skinny half naked teenager to a debonair prince. Sadly my excuses were rather ineffectual, and I was soon being stuffed into all manners of stiff clothes with collars and buttons. That done, I was allowed a moment to bid adieu to my homework before being whisked away to some middle-of-nowhere place.
My miseries compounded when I realized Ria was coming. I was dressed in a pink shirt a horrible tie that didn’t match at all. She on the other hand was dressed in a beautiful sari that she carried gracefully as she settled beside me. We were both surprised to see each other, but she recovered first. ‘That’s my favorite colour” I knew that, but the gentle poke in the ribs told me she found it least befitting of her man to dress in her colours to a party. Other girls may like such similarity, but Ria had clear ideas about what colours suited me. This embarassment aside, the entry of her sister and mother (and father) added a huge amount of organic compounds to the air, which made my head spin. I was relieved to get out and head away from those smelly creatures.
Ria made no effort to join me, heading off instead with her mother and sister. That left me to rejoin my parents as they headed to the one of the tables, where everyone got up with hands extended (or folded). Did I mention my dad is the head of the regional office ? Anyway, once the extensive formalities were over and I had been scrutinized for every possible defect and compared to every possible child in the gathering, I managed to head off.
Not that it helped much. Hardly any of my friends came to these formal parties, and Ria had evidently found less trouble mongering company me. So I headed over to the food stalls, sampling the fare with as much interest as a stomach still processing KFC stuff can have. This brought me to the drinks counter, where a number of men were busy drinking, along with a few women. My dad relinquished his drinking habits once he married mom, and drinks were strictly banned at home. On such formal occasions when Mom showcased me as morality personified, it was even more so. Still, there was no one around, and a little beer could never hurt. I headed upto the counter with as confidence as I could, and demanded satisfaction. The bartender presumed (correctly) that I wasn’t a regular drinker, and served accordingly. The smirk on his face notwithstanding, I wrapped the mug in a napkin (to hide the contents), pocketed a paan from a nearby counter (just in case) and turned to move on. And almost spilled the drink.
[paan – betel leaf wrapped with various sweet mixtures]
A few yards away stood the nemesis of my life, the Witch herself. Worse, beside her stood my girlfriend and her sister, but thankfully neither of our mothers. She had on an air of artificial politeness, and even praised Ria for her performance. To my relief, she appeared at ease talking to her teacher in this changed setting, and replied politely. Her sister said something inaudible, and all three laughed. They had evidently not noticed me, so I wandered off to the edge of the well maintained bushes to enjoy the beer.
Yet I kept an eye out for her, as she prowled the garden, moving from one group to another. She didn’t seem to have many friends, and kept returning to Ria, who by now was looking out for me as a means of escape. This I couldn’t be till I had finished my drink, and had then finished another. Yet eventually she saw me, her hazel eyes narrowing upon me. In three graceful steps she had sashayed her way to me, snatching the third mug of beer from my hand. Before I could stop her she took a sip and belched. Luckily no one noticed, but I still had to do a lot of explaining on why I was drinking.
If that wasn’t enough, the ensuing argument (my girl doesn’t like drinkers either) brought the Witch along. She was moving a bit unsteadily, as if she’d had a drink too much. Before she could attack me, I took the offensive.
“Good to see you Mrs Rawat. I didn’t know you were coming as well. Is you husband here ?”
Ria gave me a stern look, which made her appear like my mother. The witch (formally Mrs Rawat) gave a fake smile, all the more fake as she clearly wasn’t capable of sarcasm in this inebriated state.
“Good to see you too Mayank.My hus-husband is over there.” she pointed right at the bushes.
“Of course Ma’m. Why don’t you join him ?” I looked down just in time to see her sari cover my foot, followed by a sharp pain. Rawat was speaking again “yes, yes I will.” she headed for the trimmed bushes.
“You’re dead Mayank. You’re so dead when she realized this.”
“Chill Ria, she’ll be out in another drink or so. And then she won’t remember anything.”
“Whatever. She’s not really a bad person you know.”
“Ria you’re drunk”
A sharp pain spread from my ribs, meeting that of my foot somewhere in my groin. “See you’re drunk. You can’t even dodge me.”
It was a sobering realization, made even more so by her sudden departure to join her family. I was left alone, with my own drunkenness made patent by the increasing instability of the ground on which I stood. Before I made an ass of myself, I had to find somewhere to sit. As my swaying vision scanned the area, I dimly realized nothing short of catastrophe could occur if I tried sitting in one of those groups. Instead, I headed for the bushes. Behind it was a sizeable section of unlighted garden which was somewhat sealed off by the cloth pavilions of the catering company. I headed into this darkness, wondering if the Witch would attack me from behind them.
Such an eventuality didn’t come to pass thankfully, and I had crash landed on the ground just behind the bushes when I noticed a dark figure near the wall. It was lying down, silent and unmoving. An animal of some sort ? My drunkenness had made me reckless, and I headed towards it, tripping on a branch and landing on my face, a metre from it. The shock of the fall made me more conscious, and I reached out a hand in the dark, reaching the figure with what seemed the utmost difficulty. It was cool and smooth, like silk.
Shifting slightly, I ran my fingers over it, finding the material extending in all directions. By now I was thoroughly intrigued, and getting up, I moved over. It was a person! A closer scrutiny revealed it to be a woman, well dressed but lying face down in the dirt. For a moment even my inebriated mind registered fear, but then only for a moment. I flipped the torso, and found myself staring at the witch.
A muddy witch to be honest. Her face was caked in mud, with the crevices of her eyes and lips filled with it. Her dress was a mess, her hair resembling that of a real witch. I checked her pulse. She was alive but unconscious.
I wondered what I should do with her. The best solution would be to drag her out and show the world what a drunkard she was. Maybe even take a few pics for proof. I was about to follow this path, when I realized that there were other opportunities to be had. Opportunities which would otherwise never come again in my life.
Mustering enough courage, I lowered my hand to her body again, pulling ever so slowly on the sari. No response. Grabbing her waist I hauled her sideways, freeing the hem of her sari. This was now pulled down, revealing a thin waist and C-cup tits. The very same tits which I’d noticed on more than one occasion in class, which had hovered over me the very afternoon. Now within my reach. Unable to hold myself, I checked to see if anyone was coming, and reached down for a piece of teacher-meat.
My cock began to harden as my hand landed on the soft flesh. Pressing slightly, I waited with bated breath, hoping she won’t suddenly wake up and land a slap on my dangerously close face. No response. I dug my nail into her waist, eliciting a low moan from my victim-to-be. I now reached down and pummeled her tummy, half as a final check and half to vent the frustration arising out of the extra homework that afternoon. I suddenly stopped, noting that she was finally writhing, her limbs thrashing incoherently for a few seconds before going limp. In the darkness I couldn’t be sure, but her eyelids seemed to flutter slightly. I backed off. Suddenly I felt my leg give way, causing me to land hard on her inanimate body.
This time her eyes shot open, but I could tell they were hardly seeing anything. Her tummy began to heave underneath me, and I backed off a second time. To be on the safe side, I turned her sideways, which caused her to eject a sizeable amount of fluids, before letting out a long groan. She tried to get up, but her supporting hand landed in the middle of the puddle, causing her to slip and fall again. Thereafter she remained immobile.
I wasn’t sure if it was safe yet, or whether it will be safe at all. She could wake any moment and seal the fate of my academic career. But she remained immobile, her heavily soiled clothes giving the impression that she’d lain here for quite sometime. Regretting my decision to pummel her tummy, and even more my renewed resolve to explore her, I moved forward tentatively, all the while keeping a lookout for any movement at all. Ria and her group would have noticed that I was missing. Me and the witch.
By now I was at her body again, and this time I began with her face. Unable to see anything yet not daring to use my phone lest the screen attract attention. I felt her hair till it gave way to warm skin. Moving downwards, I traced her nose and eyeballs, moving over her cheeks till I reached her mouth. Unable to control myself, I penetrated her soft lips, feeling inside her warm mouth. She did not respond to my violation, and I proceeded to lower my face for a kiss. My lips touched hers, and I instantly regretted it.
She tasted like the puke she’d disgorged, and I wiped my mouth in disgust, spitting to get the taste out. The latter landed on her face, and I spread it around, enjoying the way her face, so often the source of a new detention or punishment, was freely available. Raising my hand a little, I landed a gentle slap, enjoying the sound of flesh on flesh. In that dark corner of the lawn, our roles had suddenly reversed.
However, the smell of puke that assaulted my nostrils everytime I got close forced me to abandon further exploration. Instead, I proceeded downwards, moving my hand over her mangalsutra
[mangalsutra – necklace worn by married women]
till I got to the place where her blouse began. My phone suddenly beeped, causing me to jump and almost land in the puddle. It was Ria, telling me she couldn’t find me. She was feeling a little ill, and was leaving, my dad going to drop her home. Her tone appeared a little distant, but at that moment I couldn’t care less. Placing the phone (the risk was now worth it) in a position to keep her face visible, I resumed my work.
Watching her carefully, I raised my hand and placed it squarely on her tit. No reaction, so I began to press downwards slowly. Her flesh began to yield to my pressure, like a rubber balloon, bouncing back when I released it. Encouraged by this and feeling exceedingly horny, I placed both hands on her mounds. Instead of pressing down, I began to stretch my fingers till I figured I’d completely covered her tits. Keeping an eye on her face (or what was visible of it) I began to dig my muscles into the soft flesh, loving the way the tit seemed to push against my palm. My fingers were now deep in her flesh, making grooves in the blouse. I dug further, the resistance to them increasing. From what I knew of female tits, if she was awake it would be hurting her quite a lot by now, my fingers having squeezed to an extent Ria would not have liked. But I didn’t care. She wasn’t my girlfriend, she was a bitch whore who needed a dressing down.
Releasing her tits, I grabbed them again and squeezed hard, exchanging the gradual pressure for a sharp vice-like grip on her mammaries. She moaned a little, her lips parting slightly. Moving slightly, I settled on the ground, and began to pull her up by her tits.In a normal situation, the pain must have been unbearable, but she didn’t show any response beyond a louder moan. I pulled harder, causing her tits to rise from her tits to the maximum extent allowed by her blouse. Sadly, I could not raise her into a sitting position by her tits, but decided nevertheless to check out the damage I’d done to those udders.
Blouses are tricky in the best of times, and fumbling in the dark was time consuming. Yet I persevered, undoing one clasp after another. I dared not remove the light from her face, which meant her tits would have to stay in the dark. However, eventually I could tell that her blouse was open, revealing a lower cut and softer garment, presumably her bra. I gave both cups a gentle squeeze, before grabbing the cups one after another and pulling them down. This was again a bit tricky, but the results were rewarding.
My hands felt soft flesh erupt out of the cotton prison, capped by small rougher patches in the centre. As the tits felt cold air, I felt the centre of the rough patches elongate beneath my fingers, till they were clearly an inch or so above the rest of the tit. By now my hormones were getting the better of my prudence, and I moved the light down to her tits. As her face went dark, her tits were illuminated, causing me to almost cum in my pants.
I’d seen Ria’s tits, and she was quite well developed. However, she was just 18 and was a late bloomer by her family standards. This woman was fully developed, and this was shown in her bosom. Her tits were each the size of melons, which showed how much she trapped those poor globes in class. Not only that, each of her areolae was the size of a medallion, with the nipples I’d thought were an inch long being about a half inch more.
As my dick struggled in my pants, I reached down and grabbed both nipples. By now I didn’t even care if she woke up and saw my face. I didn’t care if someone from the party came along. I didn’t care about anything, I just wanted her body. Placing both nips between my thumb and forefinger, I twisted hard, and was surprised by the lack of reaction on this occasion. Checking her face and noting the by now familiar moan (bit louder on this occasion), I decided to take the plunge.
Lowering my face, I wrapped my lips around one nipple, loving the way the pointed piece of flesh fitted in my mouth. I flicked it with my tongue, before running my teeth up and down. I now placed my hand on either side, prepared myself, and bit down on the nipple. This did cause a reaction, her chest heaving. I should have backed off, but instead went ahead, starting to pull the nipple with my teeth. The tit elongated underneath me, and for a moment I wanted to pull her up by her nipple.
Unfortunately, (or fortunately), my bizarre fantasy was cut short by a shrill scream from her. Momentarily stunned I recovered my presence of mind in time to stop her from escaping. She was looking at me with wide eyes, her face showing recognition the moment I brought it on level with hers. She was still groggy but the nipples torture appeared to have awoken her. Anger flashed in her eyes, and she prepared to fight. I was desperate to stop her from doing so, and in my desperation I landed four hard slaps, causing her cheeks to redden and a solitary tear to flow down her left cheek. Yet the anger returned and she opened her mouth to say something. I slapped her again, and again, till the tear was joined on her neck by a trickle of blood from a split lip. Her cheeks were swollen by now, her lips puffy. She made one last attempt to move, and this time I pummeled her tummy, punching her arms for good measure.
This broke her. Still glaring at me, she didn’t dare scream again. She must have realized that in this jungle, the stronger was the ruler, and her schoolroom writ didn’t run here. I slapped her one more time for her reaction, before resuming my attention on her tits. This she evidently didn’t like, writhing underneath me. I punched her twice in the tits, adding to the red marks from my earlier assaults.
“Unhh, oofff” her lips didn’t allow her to fully exercise her vocal cords (thankfully) and the sounds came out in a husky manner. I didn’t dare suck her nipples again, lest she try something with her long nails, but this didn’t prevent me from mauling her breasts to my heart’s content, now with the additional pleasure of seeing the anger and pain in her eyes.
While doing this, I’d settled down on her thighs, preventing her from moving. I now decided to move downwards. Moving one hand to her throat should she try anything, I reached for the knot of her sari. I guess she realized that I wanted more than her boobs, for she pushed me off, and made a vain attempt to get up. I slapped her again, following it up with a blow to the hand supporting her. She collapsed, resuming the quiet sobbing that I preferred.
The knot was tricky, and I contemplated asking her to undo it. I guessed she wouldn’t comply till I’d beaten her to pulp, and this I wanted to avoid – she was moderately good looking after all. Instead, I somehow managed to pull out her folds, before beginning to claw clumsily at the cloth. At this juncture she inadvertently helped me by getting up again and this time actually managing to get her ass up. This caused her sari to pool round her legs. She tripped and fell again, this time at an odd angle that caused her a sprain. She was howling now, and I had to shut her up again.
This done, I moved below her, and she promptly began to kick me. This had the effect of pushing up her petticoat, which I then bunched round her waist. As for the kicks, I grabbed her legs and parted them, holding them in place as she tried to crawl away. She now had just one layer of clothing left, and this proved to be the most tricky. Any release of her legs would lead to a volley of poorly aimed kicks at my waist. I decided to move closer, out of range of her legs. Once I was sure she couldn’t kick me, I got on my knees (the same stance I had to take when she punished me in class), I grabbed the crotch of her panties and pushed them aside. This only caused the cloth to return to its place given her gyrating thighs, but perseverance paid off. I eventually got it to wedge securely on one side of the crotch, finally allowing me to proceed with her pussy.
As I moved in however, I became dimly aware that I was about to rape her. This had never been my initial intention, and had my hormones not taken over, I would likely have been sipping another drink right now, enjoying the sight of the teacher being pulled out. Now I was going to rape her, that too without protection. For a moment I paused, looking at her face. She must have realized that I was for the first time confused, for she finally opened her mouth. The voice was unlike any I’d ever heard from her, even if the damage to her lips was factored in.
“Mayank, please, what are you doing ? You’ll rape me ? Haven’t your parents taught you any values ?”
The reference to my parents pissed me off. She was no one to refer to my parents. I didn’t say anything, instead moving up her body. She raised her hands weakly to shield her face, I pulled them down. She didn’t resist, her face having a distant look which was not nearly as arousing as her angry look (so akin to the one she wore in class), but showed that she was pretty much broken. I pressed home the point with two more slaps, causing her to flash another catlike look at me, before looking away, unable to bear the thought of her own student taking her. Knowing how bitter her lips were, I still pushed in two fingers, meeting little resistance as I explored her mouth, pulling at her tongue as she resolutely refused to look at me. Once it was well coated in saliva, I spread the saliva all over her face, causing her to writhe slightly. This done, I forced her to look at me
“fuck you and your values cunt. You made my life miserable, now pay for it.”
In hindsight I don’t know why I felt so satisfied looking into her vacant eyes, but I did. Infact it increased my urge to rape her, violate her in a way she’d remember for the rest of her stupid career. I moved downwards again, finally pulling out my dick. It was by now a 9” monster, barely able to contain itself with its prey so close. I was almost dragged by my pole towards her slit as she made one last attempt to escape, her swollen and bleeding lips mouthing “Please” as my dick hit her crotch.
The contact sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine, my hands automatically going to her nether lips, parting them, preparing her for my pleasure. I pressed in the darkness, the light not penetrating her petticoat and my prick in no mood to wait for a readjustment of the phone .Instead, it began to lubricate the dry entrance with its precum. After further adjustment, I finally found the angle, and pushed.
Her pussy was tight, almost as tight as the time I’d taken Ria the first time. She had been a virgin, the bitch was not, but she was as going to be a good fuck. I pressed further, enjoying the grimace on her face as I penetrated her dry canal. She had closed her eyes, tears flowing down her eyes, fully illumiated in the light now clearly focussed on her face. I pushed again, and buried my pole to the hilt in her tight hole. She groaned in pain and humiliation as I hit her cervix.
The feeling was incredible, like a warm velvet vice that fitted my dick just perfectly. I held in there, enjoying the warm feeling of her pussy, as it strugged to hold my dick. She appeared to be milking me, wanting me even as her face was all screwed up, tears spilling down her in a torrent. Trying desperately hard not to cum, I lowered myself onto her torso, pressing against her tits. However, my aim was her face, which I took in my hands and forced her to open her eyes, They were red and had a pathetic defeated look, seeking desperately to look away from her rapist. I prevented that, and she now looked into mine, watching the very eyes that’d appeared meek and scared now emanate lust and control. More tears flowed down her cheeks. Cupping her head in my hands, I raised it slightly, caressing her ears and pulling her eyebrows upwards. My face inches from hers, I could feel her foul breath on my face. But now it didn’t seem to matter. Instead, I moved even closer, stopping just short of kissing her. Instead I said
‘Bitch, you’re mine.” Her eyes lost the vacant look, and as fresh humiliation washed over her cheeks, she closed her eyes, unable to look any more.
All this time I’d been buried inside her, and my cock was ready to burst. Summoning all my self control, I held on. Readjusting myself, I pulled the cock out slightly, then rammed it in again. Her body rocked with the impact, but her eyes remained closed. She was biting her upper lip, trying to control herself. Unable to hide a smile, I grabbed her waist. Pulling out almost completely, I slammed in with greater force. This time she looked at me, saw me smiling, and looked away. Laughing openly, I began to fuck her cunt faster, developing a rhythm.
Her pussy was by now lubricating itself. I found this encouraging, moving harder and harder into her soft orifice. She took it passively, yet I could discern the faint traces of growing lust, signs that her body was ignoring her mind, following the primitive instinct of the human body. As for me, I’d long ago abandoned any attempt to reason with my hormones, and now allowed them full control.
My hands flew to her tits, mauling and mashing them, pulling them up and then pushing them together, eventually turning them into handles for my strokess . I found it profitable to slap her every time she closed her eyes, forcing her to watch her body pleasure her student against her will. I punched her tummy occassionally, enjoying the howls of pain that they elicited inspite of her most stoic attempts. Finally, as I neared climax, my hands grabbed her nipples. Bending down over my defeated prey, I twisted them hard, causing her to scream out as I came hard. In my mind, it seemed as if she was orgasming as well, and this egged me on even more, causing me to cum for what seemed like an millenium. Exhausted, I collapsed upon her.
She raised a hand gingerly to push me away, but it landed on my back, where it lay limply. Her face, with tears, blood and vomit mixed as if on a pretty canvas, raised itself slightly, looking at me as I lay buried in her tits. Her other hand raised itself and weakly pulled my hair, causing me to slowly snap out of my post orgasm delirium. She looked pretty, pretty and exhausted. The haughtiness was gone, replaced by a submissiveness that I found far more befitting for a woman. Finally overcoming my disgust, I reached out and kissed her on her puffy bleeding lips. The hand in my hair stopped struggling as she submitted to the delicate end of my brutal lovemaking session.
My phone was ringing, and I fished it out. It was my dad. Evidently the party was over and they were leaving. Where was I ? I felt confused – wasn’t he supposed to drop her home ? Likely he had returned. And was now planning to leave. I got up, assured that my victim would not try to escape. Rather, she lay there passively, allowing me to take a few pictures of her with her sari in a mess and her private parts fully exposed. I even took some close ups of her cum covered cunt. Zipping up my trousers, I checked the damage.
I was rather soiled. She on the other hand was a total wreck. Her lips were profusely bleeding, her tits bore my love marks while her clothes were in a total mess. I began to dress her up, finding this even harder than undressing her. For some reason, she refused to use her hands, which made me suspect I’d broken them. Regretting my excessive aggression, I somehow put her tits back in the bra, pulled her blouse into a decent position, but her sari was a hopeless case. It remained pooled round her waist, as she looked at me with a mixture of anxiety and defiance.
I realized I couldn’t leave her in this situation. But how could I ensure she wouldn’t spill the beans ? As I sought for a solution desperately, I was startled to see a rectangle of light appear in a direction opposite to that of the party. Terrified, I followed my basic instincts and fled, running almost to the edge of the illuminated area. The field was almost empty by now, with even the bartenders and waiters chatting on the far side in a group. My phone was ringing again. I cut it, messaging that I was leaving with a few friends of mine. My dad messaged me “Okay, come home within the hour”.
Suddenly I heard a sound behind me. Someone was bending over something, and I had no doubt who it was. Terrified of being discovered, I was nevertheless pulled by a morbid fascination to find out what the woman would do. She however seemed to be utterly silent, and began to scream when the figure started moving. It took me a moment to realize that he was dragging her away. Surely a rescuer wouldn’t drag her by her hair ?
She was screaming even louder “Help somebody! Please, leave me. Mayank!”
I couldn’t help but smile – could it get more ironical ?
(to be continued…..)
Note : this is a fantasy. If you can’t handle it, don’t read it. The author does not condone such behaviour in real life and would like to remind his readers that such scenarios are highly unlikely in real life.
Errors of plot and grammar are regretted. The author would be grateful if they’re pointed out. If many, a corrected version would be uploaded. Thanks!
For suggestions and constructive criticism, mail to [email protected]
