It Takes A Village

There’s a certain saying I like to use when talking to people about my hobby. It’s one entirely of my own invention, and I’m proud to be the one who gets to introduce it into your lexicon: teamwork makes the dream work.

Okay, okay! Sorry, I had to. The actual saying goes like this: it takes a village to rape a cunt.

This was the 500th something meeting of the Maricopa County Rape Club. This isn’t our official name, of course, I think we’re technically… a book club? Is that right? I don’t remember the details, but the point is, on paper we’re a completely normal group of likeminded individuals, seventeen of us at last count, who get together once a week to discuss our shared interests. And that’s all completely true! It’s just ALSO true that our biggest shared interest is raping women. And, you know, we do more than just talk about it.

Let me back up a little. For the last ten years, our club’s purpose has been to select a candidate, spend the next year vetting her background and planning our operation, and then rape the hell out of her. You might think a year is an awful long time to go between rapes, and you’d be right, but all the setup is worth it.

There are standards every candidate has to meet too, and sometimes it takes a month or two to fully verify. Like the 50% Bacon rule: no fewer than three degrees of separation between the girl and every club member. No nominating the pretty girl who lives next door, or that ex who cheated on you. Couple years ago, we were seven months into the planning of this one girl’s gang rape, and she was… mmm! Cute as a button, curves for days, one of the prettiest little pieces of fuckmeat I’ve ever laid eyes on… and then someone discovered she was the cousin of one of Robby’s old college roommates. Had to scrap the entire plan and start a fresh round of nominations.

We’ve also got rules about minors, and that rule is “no”. Occasionally we get new members trying to weasel some “but what if” garbage into the nomination discussions, and every time we shut that shit down hard. Anyone keeps pushing, or gives us the impression they’ll try going solo, and they end up floating down Salt River. A qualified candidate has to be at least eighteen, and you’d better believe you’ll be getting side eye if she’s under twenty.

Also, she has to be… well, a bitch. Look, I’m not saying we’re doing this as a public service, or that any of these women truly deserve what we do to them. But if you spend a few months looking into someone’s background, and you’re learning about how she loves her parents and adopts shelter dogs and donates to good causes and whatever, or even just that she’s a decent person trying her best in a crappy world, it’s a real mood killer, you know?

That’s why we target women like Lana Williamson.

Lana, Lana, Lana… where do I begin? She’s a spoiled rich girl, for one thing, even if she’s in her early thirties by now. We’re talking fancy private school, brand new car for her sweet sixteen, acceptance to an Ivy League school solely because of her parents’ hefty donations, the works. She’s someone who grew up getting everything she ever wanted.

And maybe more importantly, she grew up unsatisfied and ungrateful. Lana is mean. She was the popular girl in the high school who decided which students were social outcasts. The college student who threatened professors with dismissal if they didn’t remember whose daughter they were talking to.

And more recently, she’s a C-suite executive for a major pharmaceutical company. She’s one of the people who decides just how much they can gouge people for life saving medicine, whose contribution to the world is making it crueler and more dystopian by the day. We’ve eavesdropped on more than a couple of her meetings as part of our surveillance, and I can promise she was never a voice of reason or mercy.

She’s a parasite, and after a year of preparation, today is the day she finally gives something back.

We had hidden cameras set up around her office’s parking garage, and we started tracking her as soon as she entered the facility on Friday afternoon. We don’t prioritize physical attractiveness when picking a target - a hole is a hole is a hole - but Lana was a real looker. Plenty of fancy treatments, top shelf beauty products, and expensive spa visits have left her pale skin smooth and rich, with golden hair that practically glows in the dark as it spills down her back in soft curls. She has a personal trainer who visits her in-home gym three times a week, a personalized meal plan designed by a Michelin star chef… so much time and money spent to make herself into a delicious fuckable treat.

Our raffle winner was Mitchell, and we all watched with jealousy through the cameras as he intercepted Lana. “Hey there, sweetheart,” he told her as he approached her car. “What do you say you and me get some drinks, see where the night takes us?”

She looked at him like he was a bug crawling up her leg. It didn’t help that he was dressed in a ratty shirt and blue jeans, a Diamondbacks baseball cap pulled down over his head to protect from the garage’s official cameras. Meanwhile she wore a crisp, professional looking skirt, blouse, and stockings that had been tailored made for her. She radiated authority, poise, and power, the epitome of the powerful female business executive, and he looked like he’d need help with bus fare.

“Get lost,” she said flatly, and made a show of pulling a canister of pepper spray out from her purse. We’d seen her ruin more than one unhoused person’s day with it, just because they’d begged for spare change.

“Aww, don’t be like that, sweetheart,” Mitchell wheedled. “I can show you a good time ALL night long, I promise.” He stepped closer. Just give me a chance and-“

The pepper spray struck him right between the eyes. And if he’d been a regular guy, even a creepy one hoping to have his way with her, he would have been rolling on the floor, clawing at his eyes after that.

But this is why we plan. We’ve had access to her house for months, and we’d snuck in earlier in the week to replace that spray with a disguised breath freshener. All Lana did was make his face smell minty fresh.

The tricky part was coming up and I watched in anticipation, rooting for the man despite my jealousy. “That wasn’t very nice,” Mitchell said in a friendly tone, and slapped the spray out of her hands, the little bottle skittering across the concrete, before producing a canister of his own. His pepper spray was the real deal, and Lana shrieked when a quick squirt struck her in the face. “See? Not much fun on the receiving end, is it?” he asked as her hands pawed at her face, trying to ease her torment.

He gave her just a couple seconds to recover, then stuck the bottle of pepper spray right in her face. “You know what would be real nice, sweetheart?” he drawled as her reddened eyes blinked at it. “If you bent yourself over the front of your car here and let me show that pussy a good time. I promise my fat hog will have you-“

I’d studied videos of her just like everyone else, but it was amazing how quick she moved. She’d taken self defense classes, and it had not been money wasted; one second he had the bottle pointed in her face, the next she’d snatched it away and turned it on him. “Fuck you,” she snarled as she emptied its contents at him.

This time, Mitchell opened his mouth so he could catch some of the breath spray where it counted. “Mmm!” he said, smacking his lips. “Very appreciated.” Then he raised the actual bottle of pepper spray that he’d concealed in his other hand and unloaded it on her.

He’d practiced the sleight of hand trick for weeks, and it was a cinch when your target audience can barely see shit because you’ve already sprayed her once, but we still cheered to see him pull it off. He could’ve just sprayed her like that from the beginning, but style counts for something, and her flabbergasted expression at being tricked was beautiful.

As she flailed and shrieked, her eyes bright red and puffy, he spun her around and slammed her upper body onto the hood of her car. She fought, I’ll give her that, but blinded and out of breath, she couldn’t stop him from pulling her wrists behind her back and securing them there with zip ties.

Mitchell put a hand on her head and pushed it down against the hood, then used his thumb to force one bloodshot eye to open and stare at the pepper spray nozzle just millimeters away. “How you feeling about that pussy pounding, sweetheart?” he asked cheerfully.

“Fuck… you…” she hissed, then squealed as he sprayed her directly in the eye, his thumb still forcing her eyelid up. He gave her other eye the same treatment, then kicked her legs apart and tugged down her skirt.

I pumped my fist in the air at the sight of her blue silky panties: I’d won the betting pool about which pair she’d have on. While I was celebrating, he was tearing them off to reveal her lovely pink pussy, and then pulling his cock out of his jeans.

“Stop!” she demanded as she kicked her legs and tried to lift her upper body. It was an order, not a request; Lana still thought she had control over her situation. “You’ll rot in jail for this! Don’t you know who I am?!”

“I sure do, sweetheart,” Mitchell assured her as he pushed her back down with one hand, the other positioning himself at her entrance. “You’re the pretty blonde fucktoy about to show me a real good time.”

He thrust his hips forward and sank into her pussy.

I’ll say this about Lana Williamson: she was a fighter. I think a lot of women who found themselves in her shoes - blind and in agony from taking most of a bottle of pepper spray to the eyes, wrists bound behind her, being pinned down and raped by a man physically stronger than her - would’ve given up on fighting back at that point, or at least hesitated at the prospect of calling down even more abuse.

But not Lana. She kicked and fought and screamed for help the entire time Mitchell raped her. If we hadn’t closed the parking garage off with some fake signs after she entered, directing customers to return in an hour and apologizing for the inconvenience, someone would’ve definitely heard her cries. And if Mitchell had let his guard down expecting his victim to meekly submit, she wouldn’t have needed any outside assistance at all.

But there was no one around to hear her, and Mitchell kept her firmly pinned as he pumped her tight snatch. “I knew you were going to be a damn good ride, sweetheart,” he told her, panting slightly from exertion as his hips slapped against hers in a quick and steady rhythm. “You act tough on the outside, but underneath? You’re a warm, velvety smooth little cock sheath. When was the last time someone squirted their baby batter into this tight love tunnel? Too long, I reckon.”

Oh, did I mention we scheduled this for a day when she was ovulating? “Don’t!” she warned, still struggling. “I’ll! Kill you!”

“Unless you’re planning to do it by squeezing my cock off, sweetheart,” he told her pleasantly, “I think you’re outta luck, and about to be outta time. You just relax and think about baby names, okay? Little rugrat’s gonna need a lotta love, growing up without a father and all. You treat ‘em extra special, you hear?”

“God dammit!” she cursed. She was fighting as hard as ever, but her movements had changed now, becoming more desperate and focused . She wasn’t trying to hurt him, or overpower him, or even to escape anymore, not really. Her only goal, as her legs squirmed and her hips rolled and her ass bobbed this way and that, was to get off of his cock. To get his pumping, pistoning dick out of her cunt before it could fire its payload into her fertile body.

She failed.

Mitchell groaned happily as he christened our new playtoy with her first load of spunk. His cock was completely buried within her, and the look of triumph on his face and bitter frustration on hers told me his cockhead was pressed right up against her cervix, spurting its hot, thick seed directly into her womb.

“See?” he said when his climax finished, and gave her butt a playful smack that drew another curse from her lips. “Just a good ride in a tight pussy, that’s all I wanted. You make sure that rugrat knows how much daddy loved breeding mommy, yeah? No kid deserves to grow up wondering if they were an accident.”

“I’ll… kill you…” she swore again, her throat hoarse from screaming.

He chuckled. “I was gonna ask if you’d be a good girl and not give me any trouble if I cut them zip ties off, but I guess you just answered that question. In that case…”

He leaned over and forced one of her puffy, swollen eyes open again, where it was greeted to the sight of a brand new, full canister of pepper spray. I’m no mind reader, and that wasn’t the worst thing we did to Lana Williamson by a long shot, but as her face went pale in disbelief, I choose to believe that right there was the moment she began to realize just how fucked she was.

Once the second bottle was empty and Lana was howling like a banshee, Mitchell calmly walked away. “Been a pleasure, sweetheart!” he called back over his shoulder. “Let’s do this again soon!”

To Lana’s dubious credit, she didn’t just lay there and let her rapist walk away without incident. When she realized he was about to stroll off into the distance without consequences, leaving her blind and zip tied and leaking his jizz, she let out a shriek of rage and rose up to stagger in his direction. I have no trouble believing she had every intention of chasing him down and ripping his throat out for what he’d just done to her. As far as acts of vengeance go, though, it’s real hard to run when you can’t see and your skirt is hiked around your knees and your legs are half numb from all the pounding your pussy just took. She made it four steps, maybe five, before tripping over her own feet and face planting the concrete.

The impact must have knocked some sense into her, because she just laid there for about half a minute, her body twitching softly as cum dribbled from her gaping slit. When she began rising back to her feet, her eyes were still puffy and her nose was bleeding, but the fiery rage had been replaced by something colder.

Lana stumbled back to her car, careful not to fall again, and awkwardly fumbled her car keys out of her purse. It took a minute to open the car door with her wrists bound, but she managed, and then collapsed into the drivers seat. While we were switching our surveillance to the hidden cameras in her vehicle, it was beeping repeatedly as she locked and relocked all the doors. She did that more than a dozen times before she was satisfied that the outside world couldn’t get in, then she stared up at the ceiling and let out a single hiccuping sob.

“Fucking finally,” Robby said from the back seat. “Been waiting ages for you, slut.”

The squawk that came out of Lana was a mix of surprise, rage, and terror, and she immediately twisted in her seat, trying to open the car door back up. She froze when she felt Robby’s knife against her cheek.

“I’m gonna make this quick, bitch,” he growled in her ear, his hand curling around her throat. “You’re going to put on this collar and ring gag, shimmy over to the passenger side, and then suck my cock while I take us for a little drive. We have a nice time, you get to gargle some cum, everyone’s happy. You give me any trouble, I knock all your fucking teeth out, slash this pretty face to ribbons, and you still spend the drive gagging on my dick.”

He dug the point of the blade into her cheek, just enough to draw blood. Lana tried to shrink back in the seat, but his hand on her throat kept her in place “Was there any part of that you were too stupid to understand?”

She stared at her bloody cheek in the vanity mirror. “N… no…”

“So are you going to be my good little blonde cocksucker?”

Her eyes narrowed, then she yelped as he drew the blade across her cheek, leaving a long line of blood.

“You don’t get to look at me like that, slut,” he told her as he pricked her cheek in a fresh spot. “Now answer the fucking question before I lose my patience.”

“…Yes…” she growled, then winced again as he cut a second line across her flesh.

“Yes WHAT?” he pressed as the blade poked her again. “Until I’m sure even a dumb cunt like you knows what she’s agreeing to, I’ll have to keep cutting.”

“Yes,” she said through clenched teeth, “I’ll be your-oww!”

“Fucking smile for once,” Robby spat after the third cut. “No one wants a sad mopey cunt sucking their dick.”

Lana grimaced, but quickly forced a smile before he decided to use the knife again. A woman like her has plenty of practice with fake smiles, and hers was bright and beautiful, even if her eyes smoldered with raw hate. “I’ll be your… your good little blonde cocksucker…”

“There. Was that so fucking hard?” When Lana didn’t respond, he sliced her cheek again. “Was that so fucking hard?”

“N-no!”

“Dumb fucking cunt,” he muttered. “Wasting my goddamn time.”

A few minutes later, the two of them were on their way out of the city. None of the other cars gave them any trouble, the drivers seeing nothing unusual about the man driving with one hand on the steering wheel. If any of them had looked closer, perhaps they would have noticed his other hand rested on the bobbing head of a collared and ring gagged blonde as she knelt in the passenger footwell and deepthroated his cock.

Robby looked as relaxed and happy as he ever did, which is to say: not much. But even his permanent scowl couldn’t hide the way his hips rolled in rhythm with Lana’s head, or the slightly glazed look in his eyes as he enjoyed the feeling of her lips and tongue and throat.

Lana seemed far less thrilled with the arrangement. The ring gag was obviously way too big for her, her mouth stretched obscenely wide around the thing. When he’d first tightened the straps, putting even more strain on her already stretched lips, I’d caught her angrily blinking back tears.

But if she didn’t like the gag, she despised the collar. It couldn’t have seemed that bad to her when she first put it on: the black leather was stiff, and he’d buckled it so tight that it was causing trouble breathing, but she hadn’t discovered its true purpose until she’d started sucking.

Once his cockhead was in her mouth, Robby had hooked the collar ring to the one on his belt buckle. The first time Lana tried to lift her head, it quickly became clear that there wasn’t enough slack. Her only options were to leave his head in her mouth, or take him into her throat.

“You’re here to swallow dick, not bitch and moan,” he’d snapped when she’d tried struggling to get his cock out of her mouth. He’d pushed down on her head, forcing the gagging blonde to swallow him up.

According to our research, which included veiled interviews with her past boyfriends, Lana had tried deepthroating once, and hated it with a passion. That certainly fit with the expression of outrage she wore as Robby bounced her head on his shaft, and whenever he let go, she would go back to trying to pull her head away.

About ten minutes into the drive, Robby spat. “Lazy fucking whore,” he grumbled, and when he pushed her head down this time, he pushed it all the way and held it there. Lana gurgled as he mashed her face against his balls, her bloody nose scrubbing against his pubes. Her entire body shuddered as her airflow was cut off.

“I’m sick of doing all the fucking work,” he complained. Lana’s head was trembling as she fought to rise and find oxygen, but he kept her firmly held down. “You’d rather get skullfucked like this, huh? Suffocate on my prick over and over, enjoy some brain damage? Fine, be my fucking guest.”

The blonde gurgled something unintelligible, but he must’ve understood her, because he let out a harsh laugh. “Oh yeah, slut? Prove it. Spitshine my balls and taint while you’re down there, show me what a good cocksucker you’ll be if I give you another chance.”

I watched with glee as her pink tongue extended to lap at his nuts and then slither below. Her expression was a perfect portrait of misery and disgust, but she knew this was her only option if she wanted to breathe anytime soon.

Robby let her tongue bathe his privates for nearly a full minute, and her eyes had rolled up into the back of her head by the time he lifted her up. Lana choked and coughed as her body desperately sucked in air, but when he slapped the back of her head, she obediently sank back down.

Soon she had established a shaky rhythm, fucking her throat on his prick. I was pleased to see that she even continued tonguing his balls and taint every so often, even though he hadn’t told her to. Our research had suggested a phobia around suffocation, but it was always good to find actual proof.

Robby relaxed a little more at that point, even going so far as to take his hand off her head completely. I saw them both tense for a moment, but then Lana resumed obediently deepthroating him. He used his now free hand to light a cigarette, and quietly enjoyed it while his good little blonde cocksucker worked.

They’d been driving for about thirty minutes when he came. He pushed her head down when it happened, seeking to shoot his seed as far up her throat as possible. “Don’t you lose a drop, bitch!” he warned her. “I see a single fleck of cum on my crotch, no one will ever find your body.”

Lana must have believed him, because she began to noisily suck and slurp, doing her best to gulp down his entire load, I watched a few drop of cum roll down his shaft and then get hoovered up by the desperate woman.

When his climax was finished, she was panting with the effort of swallowing all his cum, and she flinched when he slapped the back of her head. “Didn’t say you could fucking take a break,” he complained. “Don’t you fucking know anything, idiot? Now that I’m soft, you suck me hard and start over.”

A look of sheer hatred flickered across Lana’s face, followed by weary resignation. She began bobbing her head again.

Their drive lasted nearly two hours, and she’d gulped down two more loads of cum before they reached their destination. They weren’t all that far from the parking garage they’d started in, maybe forty minutes away on a direct route, but he’d taken a winding,  circling path to keep her from knowing just where they were.

It hadn’t been long since his last orgasm, and she was still trying to nurse him for a round four when he abruptly pulled over. “Out!” Robby shouted after unbuckling her collar from his belt and opening the passenger door. When Lana didn’t immediately respond, he raised his right leg and started kicking at her. “I said OUT, you cum guzzling slut! I got other shit to do today! Move!”

Lana half crawled, half rolled out of the footwheel she’d been kneeling in, ending up sprawled on the side of the road. She struggled to her feet, and made an urgent sound through her gag.

“What, you want me to take that crap off you?” Robby asked, indicating her collar and gag. She nodded quickly. “Nah, keep ‘em, bitch. Call it a trade, since I’m keeping your car.”

Lana’s eyes widened, and she squawked something furious through her gag, but Robby just flicked his latest cigarette at her, closed the door, and peeled away.

We didn’t have a ton of cameras set up out there, but we had enough to get her hopeless expression as she looked around her. He’d driven her well off any of the major roads, and there was nothing around her but desert, the unpaved road they’d been on, and a sign indicating that Phoenix was 45 miles away.

Her shoulders sank as she read the sign, and again when she glanced around for her purse and realized it was still in the car, along with her cash, credit cards, identification, and phone. She looked both ways down the road, weighing her options. Then, with a heavy sigh, she began trudging back towards the city.