Disclaimer: this is a work of fantasy and should be treated as such. Real rape is a heinous crime that deserves to be punished to the full extend of the law. If you do not recognize the difference between reality and fantasy, you also lack the maturity to read this story.
Important distinction this story is written in memory of a dear Friend CarlosDevil, the figure in this story isn’t the warm and kind man we knew but a figment of my imagination. I still believe Carlos would have been pleased of having a story contest dedicated to him.
Visited by the Devil
The Devil is dead!
Despite the enormity of the news not a single newspaper was printing a word about it. The same newspapers that had reveled in the terror the town had been in for the last few months. Every new victim coming forward reporting her experiences of one of the worst nights in her live. The night the devil had visited her.
The reason for this was quite obvious, nobody knew it. My friend and Mentor Carlos had passed away after a car accident without anybody ever knowing that the jovial charming man had a darker side. A side that came out to play when he put on the red plastic mask, and entered a house to change somebodies live forever. In the last 12 months no fewer than 53 rapes had been attributed to the devil, but I knew better, I knew that there were 23 women out there still remaining silent.
The simple reason I know this is, because Carlos didn’t account alone for those. The two of us had a friendly wager going on. Both of us had been collecting and sampling the beauties of the town. Meeting on weekends in the abandoned house at the outskirts of town. In the same room I just stood hoisting a beer in memory of my friend. A room we had given a particular decor, on the wall to my left were the 36 panties I had nailed to the wall, while the 38 on the right had been contributed by my friend. Each of them represented the violation of a woman, the rules allowed only for panties ripped from their bodies to be added to the collection. It had taken two female joggers for me to finally sink in, that women serious about running did not wear panties under those running shorts. Allowing Carlos to built his 2 panty lead, that I never made up. And now our final tally was 74, a number I felt was an entirely unsatisfactory number to stand as memorial for my friend. I chugged the beer and grabbed the red plastic mask with the face of a grinning devil.
I drove around aimlessly for more than an hour until I saw her. She was a beauty, in her early to mid thirthies, long black hair tied into a ponytail. A nice womanly figure neither plumb nor bony, soft and round were it counted but no chubbiness. She got out of her car and entered a small isolated house, carrying her groceries in a paper bag. Neither the size of the house nor the bag lead me to believe that there would be anybody else living there. She had the air of somebody who could have company if she wanted, but really didn’t care to. She was plain perfect for our joint number 75. The sun was just setting at the horizon, and it was time to play.
Parking the car a bit away, I quickly walked towards the entrance of her house, mask hidden under my jacket. In my left I held a parcel wrapped in plain brown packing paper. At the door I spotted the door bell with the names Robinson and Marsh written on it. Had i been wrong about my rushed assumption that she was living alone? So far it wasn’t too late to abort. Nonetheless I pressed the button and heard the bell ringing, the good news I heard no barking dog. Raising the edge of the parcel to cover the peep hole i waited for a response.
“What is it?” I heard from inside.
I made a mental coin flip and said “Package for Mrs Robinson.”
“She isn’t here at the moment, could you leave it just on the porch?” evidently she was a cautious type.
“I’m afraid somebody will need to sign for it.”
“Is that really necessary, can’t you just leave it.”
“Sorry Ma’am, but this is an insured shipment, and I have to get prove of receipt.” I said in the most bland voice I could muster.
I heard a sigh and locks being opened, that was my cue to put on the mask. So when she finally opened the door and mumbled "What the hell did Helen order this time, she was looking at a figure that seemed to have stepped right out of a horror movie.
Having been in this spot now a couple of times, I knew that a quick and relentless show of violence would likely cow her, but it was important to not give her time to find her balance. Dropping the parcel, I drove my left fist quickly into her stomach, making her gasp for air instead of screaming out for help, it also drove her back into the house, where she fell backwards onto the ground. In an instant I was upon her, grabbing her by the hair and around her throat.
Keeping my voice low, so that she had strain to hear me I said “You are making any noise and the police will have to deal with a murder scene here. Nod if you understand what I’m saying” Based on how white her face had turned she had understood me very well, but as I was establishing dominance over her it was important to do this properly.
Keeping my hand at her throat i used the other to slap her face left and right. “Do you understand me?”
This time she nodded.
“Good”
I grabbed her by the hair and forced her onto her feet. “As charming as your hallway is, we are going to relocate to your bed room. Lead the way!”
Tears were streaming down her face, as she led me to a cozy little bedroom with a queen sized double bed and two nightstands, both evidently being used. The center piece on the wall was a huge floor to ceiling mirror. I positioned her facing that mirror standing behind her holding her by throat and hair.
“Strip!”
“What do you want?” she croaked fighting for air
I could have told her to start unbuttoning her blouse, shake it of her frame slowly dropping first her pants then her bra.
But I did nothing of that sort, I simply increased the pressure onto her throat, and would you believe it, her inability to understand what I wanted from her vanished almost as if by magic. As her face turned redder due to a lack of air, her hands flew into action, almost ripping her own clothes off. I must admit it was a delight to watch in the mirror, as she tore open her blouse ripped down her bra and pushed down her panties together with her pants, pooling them around her ankles. As she tried to cover herself with her hands I told her to put her hands to the side, and when she complied I let go of the pressure around her windpipe.
She took a deep breath of relief and almost collapsed. I took my hand out of her hair and gave the impressive breasts a good squeeze, they were not overly firm tits of this size never are, at least not if they were homegrown like this pair. “The guys must love to fuck those babies” I told her.
“Please no” she groaned “please let me go I’m not into men”
“What are you a dyke?”
“I’m lesbian.”
My hand wandered down to the triangle of lovely soft hair between her legs, and I felt the pronounce mound, going deeper and feeling the hairless plump lips of her sex
“So you keep those parts shaved, your little dyke friends not a fan of hair between their teeth?”
“Please don’t use that word, it’s nasty.” she pleaded.
I kicked her into the back of her knees and pushed her onto the floor, forcing her hands behind her back and secured them with a zip-tie. Grabbing her again by the hair, I convinced her to get back up and onto the bed. Where we tested for the next few minutes the relativity of time. For me it passed relatively quickly, but based on her squealing and crying it felt like an eternity for her. After I had deposited my first load in her pussy, I made sure to clean my dick on her breasts. She didn’t seem to appreciate it.
While i tried to regain strength for and encore performance, I ransacked the bedroom. Finding some nylons that i used to secure her legs to the headboard. In a hamper I found some old panties that reduced her yelling and begging to an acceptable level. On of the nightstand drawers contained a pretty realistic shaped dildo and a pair of furry hand cuffs. I waved both items in front of her face making some comments about her being a hypocrite in claiming not to want cock. But as she had been so adamant against it, I wouldn’t force this one up her snatch. Her relief was short lived and followed by another scream when I inserted the unlubricated toy.
At this point I heard the front door being opened and a female voice called out “Leslie are you here?”
I quickly stepped next to the door of the bedroom, so that i wouldn’t be immediately been seen when she would enter through the door.
The voice continued to chatter as it came closer “You wouldn’t believe what kind of a day I had …” she suddenly stopped talking as she opened the door and saw her tied up friend on the bed.
In a flash I was on her, grabbing the little blonde woman with the elfin features also by the throat.
“Helen I presume?”
–
A few hours later I was nailing two pair of panties to the wall, having finally pulled even with Carlos. I was thinking of the fun i had with both women, fucking the little one while her face was buried in the cum leaking cunt of her friend. Well she would be still busy in there, I had buried the keys to her hand cuffs deep in that cunt. But they most likely enjoyed each others tongues in their holes, what difference did it make that I had added some of my cum as flavoring.
Looking at the walls of trophies, I decided it was time to put the final point under this story. Without Carlos it wasn’t the same to go on the hunt. Just one last symbol remained. In olden times when a warrior died they burned his body with his most prized possessions. I was now sprinkling gasoline all over the walls and the floor. Laying a trail towards the front door. Once outside I lit a match and threw it into the gasoline. Walking away as the condemned building was going up in flames a beacon to the memory of Carlos. The Devil was dead.
Reaching my car I spotted the red devils mask on the passenger seat. Carlos was dead, but the Devil was alive, because the Devil was me.
the End.
