She first noticed she was being stalked almost a year ago. It began with a slight sensation of more presence in the shadows when she came home from work late at night. She got out of her car and felt like she was being watched. Or she looked out the window while washing dishes and thought she saw something shifting in the evening shadow.
The feeling got worse when she noticed she was missing things at home. Suddenly her favorite T-shirt, the one she preferred to sleep in - no underwear, just the soft cotton of the shirt on her breasts and the warm air on her naked pussy and ass - was gone. Frustrated, she now slept naked. Then she noticed that her drawer next to her bed was open, even though she was sure she had closed it. In that drawer she kept all her toys and although she played with herself without shame before bed (at least when there were no men with whom she filled herself), she never liked to be confronted with them in the morning when she was awake again. She was more the princess by day, slut by night kind of type,
So she always closed that drawer after she was done with her ... playtime. But now it was open when she entered her bedroom. And she wasn't sure, but she thought things had shifted. As if it had been dug into. As if someone had looked inside of it.
Then she woke up one night, gasping for breath, as if she had felt something in her bedroom. As if someone had been standing next to her. Breathed into her face. Of course no one had been there. But a few days later, she woke up all groggy and fuzzy. She felt like her head was filled with cotton wool and she had trouble getting her eyes open. Her legs ached and it hurt especially between her legs. Moreover, her sheets were damp, as if she had just had sex with a very big black African who had stretched her pussy with his big cock, which she had squirted full on.... She had had sex with big black cocks before, so she recognized the feeling. But she hadn't brought anyone with her now. Still, she felt like she had been fucked with a cock that had been all the way up to her uterus.
When she went to the doctor, he performed some internal examination and opened her pussy with a speculum. He pointed out the bruises on her thighs and indeed said there were some internal stretchmarks inside her and a clear bruising on her cervix. Perhaps she had had some careless sex? suggested the doctor, looking at her judgmentally. After all, she had visited him very often, sometimes for STD's and more than once for a Plan B morning after protection. But Kirsten knew better.
She was sure someone had been in her bedroom. Someone had drugged her. And then... she could barely contain it...then he had penetrated her with...what exactly?
Something gnawed at the back of her mind. Because somewhere this was - but this couldn't be true, could it? - something of a fantasy...something she had once shared with someone....something about a desire to be raped at night while she was sleeping...raped by a very large dildo that would stretch her further than she had ever had a cock in her pussy....
She felt guilty. Could she still go to the police then, if this was her own fantasy? And who... who would do this to her. Surely not...? No...she couldn't...she hadn't spoken to him in so long.
A week later she received the first photo. It was a photo of her bedroom, shrouded in shadows, only the light of the moon shone in on the white sheets. Another week later, a photo of her arm above the covers, her face in the light of the moon. Another week later, another photo. Now the blankets on the floor. And her naked, white body, unconscious, sleeping, on the bed.
In the weeks that followed, she received a photo each time, showing in different stages how she was laid on her back. How her legs were spread. How her knees were spread apart. How a dildo as big and thick as a grown man's forearm was placed next to her hip.
How lube was used to lubricate the dildo. How a speculum was pushed into her She shuddered at that detail. She was sure now that she had shared this. After all, Kirsten had a very big gyno fetish. How her pussy was slowly screwed open, wider and wider, wider and wider. She got a tummy ache herself as she looked at the picture and watched gaping opening between her legs. No wonder it had hurt so much when she woke up.
Then at work she received an envelope containing a small flash memory drive. On it was a small file. It was a sound clip. At first she heard nothing. Then she heard panting, which sounded faster and faster. She also heard the sound of squishing, a sound of excess fluid, of mucus, and then she heard ... a sound of a ... pig? A squealing sound like a little pig?
She listened to the fragment several times. And suddenly she understood. This was the sound of herself. This was the sound of her unconscious body cumming on her own rape. Her body...her body was cumming while she - Kirsten, her Self, her psyche - herself was not there. She felt deeply raped. Now by her own body.
https://drive.proton.me/urls/29GE9S04H8#AOUyzkR6hLfJ
https://cdn5-videos.motherlessmedia.com ... B-720p.mp4
Still, she lay there on the bed, listening to her body being raped, violated by a dildo in her pussy, her vagina being excised by an object the size of an arm, her cervix being fucked and punched with the tip of the dildo, all black and blue and bruised... and she found that it turned her on. She felt herself getting wet. Her hands slid over her belly. Touched her legs, where the bruises slowly disappeared, where the bruises slowly faded, but the pain was still vaguely present. A hand slid between her legs. She felt her own wetness. She listened to the soft moans of her body, the little pig slowly cumming on her own rape. Her finger touched the tip of her clit. She shuddered. Kirsten masturbated on her own rape.
Then it became silent. She heard nothing for weeks. The weeks became months. The dark presence from the shadows seemed to have disappeared. Kirsten relaxed.
Until a year later. On her birthday, Sept. 27, there was a white envelope on the doormat. Inside the envelope was a photo. And a flash memory drive. She didn't dare look at the photo yet. Installed the flash drive on her computer first. Looked at the file. It was another small mp3 file. She opened her media player. Plugged in her earphones.
At first there was nothing. Then there was a voice - a distorted voice, but one she recognized - speaking darkly.
"Hi there, baby. Remember what you told me once? That you could stand pain so well? We're going to test that, sweetheart. I paid them, my sweet princess. I paid them for a very special, very specific shopping list. They're going to kidnap you, princess. They're going to take you away, to a place, a dark place, a place far away, where none can hear you. They're going to cut away your clothes and hang you in a cold cellar with chains. They'll spread your legs and arms, wide, in the middle of that cellra. Your feet wont touch the ground anymore. Your hands will be hanging above your head. You'll be naked, spreadeagle, the cold air touching everything of you. Your breast. Your tummy. Your asscheeks. Your little tiny pucker between them. Cold air on your pussy, slowly the lips parting from the stress of your legs spread wide in the air."
"And then they're going to work on you, darling."
"If paid them so they're going to spread open your pussy. They're going to work your anus. They're going to connect your nipples to a car battery. They're going to electrify your clitoris. They're going to remove your teeth. They're going to work your vagina with a power drill. They will rape you with a cattle prod, pushed into your mouth, into your cunt, into your asshole. They will fist you. They're going to work your ass with a burning rod. They're going to use a whip on your breasts. They will use a screwdriver to push inside your pisshole and rape your urethra. Oh, you're going to scream, Kirsten."
"I'm paying to make you scream, Kirsten. You're going to be in so much pain. So much pain, your mind will break. Your will to live will cease to exist. They will make you beg to die. And when you finally die? I've paid them to do everything to bring you back. And start over. Then they're going to make your body scream. Just like when I raped you that night. Remember, honey? When I shoved that dildo into your cunt and your body cummed like a squeaking pig. They have permission to sell the video of your ending, princess. And me, ill be recieving the soundtrack. The soundtrack of my little piggy squealing."
"Happy birthday, my sweet princess. Enjoy your last moments."
Cold sweat was on the back of her neck. Every muscle was stiffened. She dared not breathe. As she slowly looked at the picture next to the computer, she noticed the wetness on her desk chair. She had let go off her bladder.
Kirsten looked at the picture. And saw a man holding a welding torch to a woman's pussy, with her own face montaged in the picture next to it. She slowly recognized the man holding the torch. She looked from the picture to the camera on her computer and realized the red litte light was on."Oh, no," she mouthed. "no, please forgive me. I should never have treated you like..."
The door to her house was kicked in. Kirsten screamed like a little piggy....