Previous | Table of Contents | Next
As soon as I think I have reached the bottom, he finds a way to bring me to a new low. It seems he grew bored having me to himself. He figured it was about time that I was shared. He invited a bunch of guys over. He told them to have fun. There was a solace in the fact that he was the only man I had sex with. I could tell myself that no matter how depraved the acts got, it was just one guy. If I ever found a way to free myself from his clutches, then all anyone would have to know was I had one previous sexual partner. That was nothing, right?
Now… now it was a number I couldn’t even count. I’m not saying the number was too high to count, just that I had no clue how many people came. He must have put up a craigslist ad or something. Free slut, come in, deposit your seed, leave. This was the present he had left for me. He watched as man after man came in and used me. I had to smile at them and tell them how much I wanted my body used. Some were ugly. Some were fat. Some stunk. It didn’t matter. I was used by them all. Every man stuck it in raw and deposited his seed in me.
It lasted until I stopped hating it. Once I stopped reacting, he actually began to get jealous. He told the men still waiting to get the hell out. Then, he picked me up by the hair, called me a whore, and told me to go wash myself up. I didn’t cry in the shower this time. I felt completely numb. I washed the semen out of myself thoroughly as he demanded, and when I got out, he fucked me hard.
Will I get pregnant from this? I’ve been filled with more seed than I care to imagine. Even though he allowed me to take a shower after, I swear I can still feel it inside me. What about STDs? I’d be surprised if I didn’t have at least one. I noticed he started using a condom this morning. Even he didn’t want to stick his dick in my pussy after all of that. Maybe he realized he went too far? He may lighten off for a while, but I feel he’ll just return even worse next time. That’s the way of things. That’s how he works. A period of relief, and then he pushes me again.
It was just like that first time back then. After he had taken my virginity, I slunk into the female restroom. I cleaned myself up, got dressed, and then did what most people in that situation do. I put a smile on my face and pretended that it never happened. My virginity hadn’t been stolen by a stalker with a spoon while I was handcuffed to the bed. Those pictures on my desktop which I deleted immediately had never been taken. I tried to get a hold back on my life.
Feeling intense guilt, I showered my boyfriend with attention. Brad was the same as he had always been, but somehow, I felt like our relationship was completely different. It felt fake. It felt unreal. I wanted it to feel real. I wanted that fake feeling to disappear. To do that, I started to push the intimacy with Brad any way I could.
I was in Brad’s apartment, and we started kissing heavily. Then, I unzipped his pants and went down on him. For the first time, I sucked him off. I felt like if I had my boyfriend, I could pretend this other guy was no big deal. After all, the last person I had done anything with was my boyfriend. His cock was the last cock in my mouth.
However, the feeling wasn’t as relieving as I thought. Even while I sucked on his cock, my thoughts went to the only other experience I had. My boyfriend was smaller than him, which made me feel both regretful and angry. I was angry that my boyfriend couldn’t be a bigger man than the man who raped me, even though I knew that was a ridiculous thought to have. The truth was that I was just angry at myself.
My boyfriend also didn’t really do anything. He just leaned back and let me do my thing. I had to bob my head, but he didn’t run his hands through my hair. He didn’t grab it and yank it. He didn’t fuck my face. It barely felt like he wanted my mouth at all. Near the end of the blowjob, I started feeling anger and despair.
After he came in my mouth, I had worked myself into an angry mess of emotions, and so we ended up not going any farther. He didn’t push for anymore. He was the perfectly polite boyfriend, or maybe it was that he had already gotten what he wanted. I didn’t really know.
It was after that point that our relationship started growing more and more estranged. He seemed to be pulling away from me, spending more time with other people. I also saw him hang out with another girl who was a friend of ours, and I started to feel jealousy as well. I had never been jealous before, but after seeing them walking and laughing together after class one day, I was convinced he was cheating on me.
I realize now that those actions had been a desperate attempt to keep me from worrying about my own issues. If I created drama with Brad, it was one more day I didn’t have to think about that stranger and his so-called next time. It was one more day I could be happy. I was the one driving him away. It wasn’t the other case.
About two weeks after my first time, I had pushed what had happened away, treating it like a bad memory. I decided that I was going to go all-in with Brad. I’d give him my everything, and then I’d finally be pure of that awful memory. I planned it all out. We’d go to a dinner at a nice restaurant, and then after, I would take him home and fuck him. I’d let Brad cum in me. If I got pregnant, all the better. At that point, Brad would be mind forever, and it would be something no other guy could ever take.
So, one Saturday that we both had off, I got dressed in a nice dress, shaved, cleaned up, and even put on some slightly sexy underwear. I was going to rock his world. We went out to a nice Italian restraint. It wasn’t busy, so it was just a nice quiet evening for the two of us. I ordered soup and a bowl of linguine. It was about halfway through the linguine when I started to feel unbearably sick.
I didn’t want my boyfriend to know my stomach was upset. I still had the plans for tonight. So, I politely told him I needed to excuse myself and then ran off into the bathroom. I should have noticed before that this bathroom had a lock on it. It was one of those bathrooms that sat between public and single-use. It had only one stall, and then a sink outside the stall. However, it had swinging doors and the stall afforded privacy, so I didn’t think about it. That lock was at the top of the door and was completely missed by me.
I raced into the stall, closed and locked it, and was on my knees throwing up. As soon as I got whatever was out of me, I instantly felt better. I flushed the toilet and waited a few more minutes just to make sure that the nausea didn’t come back. It was probably just something I ate that disagreed with me. It was no big deal. My date could go on.
It was at that moment there was a knock on my stall. I thought some woman must have heard me vomiting and was worried about me, so I answered immediately.
“I’m sorry, I’m okay. I’ll be out in a minute.” I called.
There was no answer. In the position I was in, bent over the bowl, I could see under the stall doors, and so I was able to see the boots of someone. The boots they were wearing seemed odd for some reason, but I didn’t put my finger on it. The person took two steps to the door, and then I heard a click. That click, combined with their otherwise quietness, caused shivers to run down my skin.
I watched as the boots moved back to the front of my stall. That’s when the realization hit me. Those were male boots. These were the heavy footfalls of a man. I looked on in horror as the lock turned and clicked open. I only realized later, but the lock on the outside had a slit. Anyone with any thin piece of hard material could turn that lock and open it without difficulty. This wasn’t even uncommon for stalls as a safety precaution. They were designed for privacy, not for protection.
The door opened, but just as I went to scream, I felt another wave of nausea. Instinctively, I turned my head and dry heaved into the toilet. It was so ill-timed that it was nearly unreal. His hands came down on me.
“On a date with your boyfriend, huh?” A familiar voice asked mockingly.
I felt extreme dread and fear. It was almost like I was frozen, holding the toilet bowl, ready to throw up. I could feel him lifting the back of my dress. I wanted to scream, but every time I thought about calling out, the nausea rose again, and when I tried, I started dry heaving.
“Ooo, nice. I like it when you’ve made such an effort.” He chuckled, pulling my underwear down.
I felt humiliated. I felt horrified. I was frozen in place. I didn’t know if the nausea came from my sickness, or if it was all in my head, but I couldn’t move as I felt him stick a finger into my pussy. It quickly turned into a second finger. They moved around, exploring my insides gingerly while I was bent over. It only lasted for a bit, and then I felt something bigger.
“Please…” I managed to croak, my throat feeling too sore to scream.
“Well, if you insist!”
I meant to say please stop, but he shoved his cock into me before I could say the second word. I let out a cry, but it was lost as he started to move his hips and thrust into me. I stared down into a restaurant toilet as a man fucked me from behind. He moved much quicker, faster, and harder this time than he did out the first time. In this position, he was also getting much deeper with each thrust.
The feeling of it sliding in and out of me triggered my nausea reflex again, and I gagged. Nothing came out anymore, but I could stop.
“Damn… every time you heave your pussy tightens up. This feels amazing!” He laughed. “I should slip some stuff into your soup more often.”
His words gave me such a horrifying feeling. Even in this situation, I had thought things were incidental. I happened to be sick. He happened to see me. He happened to take advantage. I realized I was far too naïve. I thought I had been free of him, but he had been following me and studying me all of this time. He had even drugged my soup intending to get me in here. He took the absolute perfect moment and struck.
I could feel his filthy dick slapping into me. I was literally on the floor of a bathroom on all fours, my head in the bowl of a toilet, getting fucked like some skank. It was dirty, and I was dirty. I felt like filth. Worst of all, the nausea went away again, and I started to feel pleasure. I started panting. I wanted to keep my mouth shut, but I was afraid if I did that I’d get nauseous again, so all I could do was stay there on all fours and pant like a dog getting a bone.
Then, the worst thing I could imagine happened. Someone knocked on the door.
“Sweetie? Are you alright?”
It was Brad! I was being fucked in the bathroom by another guy on our date, and Brad was just outside checking on me. I froze, not sure what to do. I felt a finger flick the back of my head.
“Oi, if you don’t answer him, I might have to…” He warned.
Fear shot through me, and I answered in a panic. “B-brad… hah… I’m okay… hah… I’m… I’m sick…”
I bit my lip as I let out a little moan. Why was his dick starting to feel good? Why was I starting to like it? I willed my body to stop reacting in such a way. There was a moment of silence.
“Are you sure? You sound… a bit weird.”
Dread crossed over my face. I had to convince him to go. Just as I was about to yell again, the man behind me grabbed me and lifted me. He kept thrusting into me, but now my body was slightly raised, and his dick was thrusting up into me. He had maneuvered one of his hands around and he managed to start stimulating my clit, rubbing it while he pounded me. His dick started to hit a spot I didn’t even know I had. A feeling of intense euphoria shot through me.
“You better answer.” His mocking voice whispered.
My head was turning to mush, and the feelings intensified by several fold. It felt both amazing, and horrifying. All of the nausea was gone now. The first time he had ever fucked me, I had felt almost nothing. This time, I felt like I was ready to explode.
“I’m sorry!” I cried out in a moan. “I’m really sick… throwing up…”
“Really?” His voice sounded worried.
No, this wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.
“It’s… it’s coming!” I cried out.
My body started to shake, and I had a powerful orgasm. I had fingered myself before. I never used a dildo or any other item inside me. I had only ever orgasmed clitorally. I had heard that women could have different types of orgasms. This was my first orgasm from sex, and it was delivered by that wretched man. It was delivered while my boyfriend outside listened.
I came hard, and as I came, he pulled his dick out. My pussy was still tightening, and for a brief moment, I regretted him taking it out. Then, I felt something hot spray over my butt and back. He was cumming too. He shot white semen over my ass while I fell back to my knees, letting him paint my back with hot Jizz.
I remained on my knees in stunned silence for a minute as I regained my breath. When I looked up, the guy was gone. I hadn’t heard him leave the bathroom. I hadn’t heard him unlock the door. Did he walk out with Brad standing there? While I was bent over and recovering, did he open the door and give Brad a good look? Fear shot through me, and I desperately got back to my feet. This dumb fucking bathroom didn’t have any paper towels. I did my best to wash my back and ass in the sink. I had to let a blow dryer blow down my ass crack to clean it all up. I straightened myself, and then opened the door and walked out.
Brad wasn’t there waiting for me. I turned the corner and was relieved to see he was still sitting at the dinner table. I walked over as calmly as I could, trying to give no indication that I had just been raped. I sat down across from him. He was looking at his phone.
When he noticed me sitting down, he spoke up without looking from his phone. “Your stomach feeling better?”
Could I really continue the date like this? Could I take him home and fuck him? Would ‘he’ even let me? Just thinking about it caused me to feel nauseous again.
“I think I need to go home,” I responded, feeling like complete trash.
Our date ended there. He drove me home, not mentioning anything off about my sickness. I didn’t speak to him. After what had just happened, I didn’t feel like there was anything I could say.
This was the beginning of the end of Brad and my relationship. I never would have thought just how much of a mess that would be. Of course, it was all thanks to that man.
I’m going to end things today. I don’t really know what else to say. What will he do to me next? When will I finally break? Maybe, I already am broken.
I’ll update you again soon. I hope my words reach someone… anyone.