�Answer my questions, asshole. Damn, you’re pathetic! Just tell me to the best you can remember, where did you park your fucking car?�

�I thought it was Webster Street, but I couldn’t find Webster Street, I got lost, anyway, it was sort of down the street a bit from a little brick church, I think, do you know where Webster Street is?�

�Yeah.�

I knew where his car was likely to be. I know everything about this city. Actually, it was Webley Street, and he was remembering a health clinic, not a church, but I knew it and could get them there.

But I had a bit of business to finish up, first.

I had some vodka and other liquor which I had taken from some teenagers—a citizen’s confiscation, if you will. I unscrewed a vodka cap, and put the bottle to his lips.

�Drink up, boy. Drink hardy. The party isn’t over yet!�

It was a bit of an effort—and a fair bit spilled onto his shirt and lap—but I managed to get several strong swallows down his throat.

I was going to get him even drunker. Then I closed the back door.

I found some sweetened wine, and took it to the front.

�Do you drink, Stephanie?� I asked.

�No,� she answered after a long sigh. �Not really. A little, well, wine. My parents don’t allow drinking.�

�Well, you will now. You’re going to swallow some of this, or I’m going to take you out of the van and start beating you up again.� I put it to her lips, and forced some down her throat.

Then some more.

And some more.

She winced, and stopped to catch her breath. I let it settle in her tummy, then put the bottle to her lips, and made her close her lips around it. Then I held it up, forcing several long, hard swallows down her throat, until she couldn’t take any more, and pulled her head away, spilling some onto her dress.

It was time to go—damn, it was getting light outside!—and I wanted the booze to settle into the kids stomachs and start getting into their bloodstreams. I started up, and drove to the door, got out, and hit the �open� switch. Then I was on my way, the door shutting behind me.

�I want you to know something, Stephanie. You better hear this straight, understand me, and remember it. Your life—and Robert’s, not that his is worth anything, that piece of shit—depends on it. If you don’t remember this, you may die, in spite of all your pain here. Are you listening?�

�Yes, sir.�

I put the bottle of wine to her lips, and held it while she took a few swallows. She was obviously discovering his medicinal value.

�Now, you know I am a very nasty guy. And there are others around there like me. I have a friend who likes to rape girls, too. We have an agreement. If he gets arrested for rape, or even investigated, then I will kill the girl who turns him in. And maybe her family. Snuff them. Murder them, just to be perfectly clear. Do you understand what I’m saying?�

�Y-yes. I, I think so.�

�I don’t want there to be any doubt. He will do the same for me. If I ever get approached by the police and asked questions, you are dead. He will make sure that I have an alibi, that I’m in a public place, and then you will be killed. And, if necessary, your family too. I’ve written down your name, your address, and Robert’s too. Your school addresses, too.�

I paused for dramatic effect, taking a swig of the wine, then putting it to her mouth. �To tell you the truth, I’d like to snuff that little twit Robert on general principles, getting this drunk and setting you up for an animal like me. But I’ll tell you, if I start getting visits from the cops, you’re dead, and I’ll make sure that little shithead is, too. Understand me?�

She nodded, and when she saw me glaring at her, whispered, �Yes. Yes, I do.� I put the bottle to her mouth again. This time she swallowed hard. Not bad for a social drinker.

�It’s not just your life that is at risk if I have to deal with the law here. It’s yours family’s. And Robert. And maybe his family, too. We haven’t had to do anything, not yet anyway. You don’t want to be the first. Understand?�

Stephanie looked straight ahead. Her face was kind of pale. She nodded.

�I’m going to take you two to Robert’s car, and you’ll be on your own. You’ll have to come up with some story to cover what’s happened tonight with some kind of story or another. I was pretty rough on you, but I was careful not to leave any marks which can’t be covered with clothes or make-up. You go home, have a good, long bath, and go to bed for the rest of the day. Your skin will heal up in a week or two, and I made sure I didn’t hit anything that would show outside of regular clothes. You’ll be okay, except that the hurt of being raped will never leave you.�

�And you can thank Robert for that.�

I chuckled, and took another pull of the wine. I was self-amused with the cheap logic of blaming Robert for her being the victim of my criminal act. But I figure it would really work: she’d focus the blame and her hate on Robert and not so much on me, and probably not go the police. And Robert would never want to be exposed as the drunken, negligent incompetent he is. Nor would he want people to know the details of the little blowjob I had Stephanie give him!

I put the bottle to her mouth, but she turned her head away. Guess she had had enough.

I pulled her to me, and gave her a nice, deep kiss, fondling her wounded breasts through the thin silk of her bodice. Then I flipped up her dress, pushed her knees wide apart, and shoved my fuck-finger into her cunt. I spent a few minutes savoring Stephanie’s body, �one last time,� I told myself. Raping her had been an extraordinary experience: she was truly a once-in-a-lifetime beauty. So I sat there, kissing her, playing with her perfect 34-B breasts and finger-fucking her, and the incredible happened:

I started getting hard again!

I kissed her harder and wetter, pulling her bound body close to me, running my fingers, fragrant with the smell of her well-fucked pussy, through her hair.

�Yeah. Yeah, Stephanie.� I was breathing hard, and gasped a bit, as I found myself under the influence of new-found passion for this adorable high school girl.

�Yeah, yeah, Stephanie. Damn, you’re a not bitch! You don’t know, you just don’t know how�much�how hot�you get me. Damn. Damn! You got me going again!�

Could I fuck her one more time? I’m a pretty virile guy, but I’ve been fucking this girl all night! I locked my lips on her, pushing lovely Stephanie against the seatback, and shoved my hand against he warm, wet snatch.

Oh, it felt so good, her wet, moist, sticky, downy-haired cunt, my palm and fingers pressing in on her! I had her pinned into the chine of the seat cushions. While my finger worked away on her, there was a little twinge in my prick. Then another! Stephanie lay passively on the van seat, gazing at the ceiling with a vacant look in her blue eyes. I pushed my lips on hers, and after a moment she gave me a kind of a perfunctory return kiss.

There was something irristible about this ruined, fucked, and fucked-over girl beneath me. My fuckpole stiffened a bit, pushing against my pants.

Damn! I figured I’d go for it. I pushed my pants and shorts down to my knees and lowered my weight on her. When my prick felt the silk dress bunched up around her hips, I really got rock-hard.

My cock likes the feel of silk. Conditioned creature that it is, silk signals sex to it.

I pushed the seat back as far as it would go, and shoved Stephanie flat down on it. One leg dropped to the floor, under the steering wheel, and her left one was, at first against the seatback, then I put it up on top of the seatback, spreading her cunt good and white. I still had her hands bound behind her back with the nylon ties, but she didn’t fuss over them or anything.

Her neck was at the edge of the van seat, with her head tilted back towards the opened door. She looked up at me with a quiet compliance.

Her tangled curls fell down, just touching the threshold.

She knew what was about to happen.

She was resigned to it.

I arranged her skirt—her silky (now quite smudged and wrinkled) box-pleated skirt—up onto her flat tummy. In a flash—I felt delay might jeopardize my erection—I had my

I shoved it right into her cunt. Deep, hard, all the way. I grabbed her by her shoulders, pulled back, and rammed the girl again.

Hard and deep, and without any kind of preparation. I just pushed into Stephanie’s cunt, and started fucking away. I wasn’t quite as hard as I would have like to have been, but her pussy was stretched and wet now, and I slipped my meat right in.I leaned over her, looking down at my beautiful, but very sullied, victim. I just fucked her and fucked her and fucked her. She felt better than ever: slightly tight, but warm, wet, and slippery, her girlflesh gripped my meat, and I slid it in and out, in and out, with nice, long, regular strokes.

Before long I had good pressure inside old Peter, and was as hard and stiff as ever!

She wiggled, adjusting her wrists at the small of her back, and she seemed to get herself a bit more comfortable. Her blonde hair was a mess of tangled curls on the stained car seat. She looked up at me with this face of calm acceptance: no longer in pain or torment, her look was kind of benign, and, well, almost beatific. Very hard to describe, but it’s as though she were silently saying, Go ahead�take me�I will not resist�Go ahead,�do it�I am yours, yours to do as you wish�yes, take me�TAKE ME!

I continued fucking her, driving into her with long, measured thrusts. Subsequent fucks can sometimes be long, even hard work, but it was very gratifying how quickly I reached an intensity of passion and lust. Stephanie just lay back, and with her hands beneath her, her cunt had a slight downward angle that hit the end of my cock really good.

Stephanie’s beauty still enchanted me, battered as she was. I cradled her head in my hands, thinking of the scores and scores of men who wished they were in my place: leaning over this hot-body teen and fucking her in any way I wanted to. Her legs were a far cry from the creamy beauties I had admired on the street, when the wind pushed her pleated skirt around. One was fell passively to the van floor while the other was pushed up and hooked by her heel on the seatback. Her thighs were covered with bruises and other marks. I found that by leaning a shoulder against the seatback I had a very stable position, leaning over her, which freed up my hands. I indulged myself—all the while, banging away at her—by touching and stroking and fondling and feeling her: her hair, her face, the curve of her torso down to her hips, and, especially—especially—the feel of her firm, up-thrust B-cup tits through the thin silk of her bodice.

Nice, so damned, fucking nice!

The pressure in my scrotum peaked—my orgasm was getting imminent. I lay down on lovely Stephanie, and snaked my arms around and underneath her, hugging her tightly, like a passionate lover. My hips rose and fell atop her as I pounded away at her cunt, fucking her, fucking her, fucking her. The pressure built and built, and I shot my load into my prey for the last time.

It wasn’t a particularly powerful blast this time, but felt fantastic all the same. I had been at her, and on her, all night, and that takes a toll on a guy, but the last of my sperm erupted in my ball sack and flowed into her in a long, warm gush. Yeah, it wasn’t a blast so much as this intense flow, the last of my male juices to find their way into Stephanie’s warm, wet pussy.

Her wonderful, thoroughly raped pussy.

Keeping that one arm around the small of her back, and her neckcradled in the crook of my other arm I banged away at her, shoving myself in as deeply as I possibly could to maximize the sensation around the tip of my dick. I pulled myself down on her hard, pressing her into the chine of the seatback, and forced another hard, wet open-mouthed kiss on her lips. This was my last assault on lovely little Stephanie. I wanted it to be intense, to really count, so that I would be engraved on her memories and sexual feelings forever.

My dick was deep inside her, and getting soft, comfortable and contended, as I felt the last few emissions of sperm leave and enter her womb. I don’t know if she felt them, but I sure did. I pressed my belly hard against her, shoving my groin right at her little blonde cunt—tightly, possessively, and selfishly.

I was, at last, truly and completely finished with my lovely teenage rape-toy.

It was real daylight now, quiet and early on a Sunday morning. Outside, the trees were casting a bit of shadow. Reluctantly, I pulled out of her, slid out the driver’s door, and pulled my pants up. Stephanie lay still, a quiet look on her face. Nothing is as poetic to me as the vacant, stunned look on the face of a raped and ravaged virgin. I groped her cunt for a moment, and then pulled her to a sitting position. She was a bit like a rag doll, just letting me maneuver her to a sitting position. Her dress was pushed all the way up, exposing her pussy, all wet and smeared with my cum, her cunt juices, and some small streaks of red. I went around to the driver’s side, got in, and started the van up.

I put the wine bottle to her lips. �Here, drink up.� She did. I made her take several more swigs. Then, up went the garage door, and I emerged into the day with my cargo of supplies, tools, and traumatized teenagers.

�Here, take some of this. But go easy. It’s plenty strong.�

She took a swallow, and started coughing and gagging on it. After she caught her breath, I made her take a few more swallows.

We weren’t far from Robert’s car. I worked my way irregularly through side streets that would confuse them, making her take swallows of vodka every minute or two. She wasn’t showing signs of intoxication, but I knew that she would be facing Sunday morning plenty drunk. I wondered if she would try to go to church in this state!

I splashed some vodka on her dress, so she would smell good and boozy. A drunk girl lacks credibility. I drove on back roads to Webley Street, located the health clinic he had described—I wonder if they do abortions there?—and looked for Robert’s car.

I quickly found it, a red Mustang. �Stay put for a minute,� I told her. I went around to the back, and climbed in, closing the van door behind me. He was awake, and I put the wine to his lips.

�Drink up, boy. Take a good, hard swig. The party isn’t over!� He turned his head away—he’d learned his lesson, for sure—but I drove my knee into his stomach. �I said drink!� I ordered.

And drink he did. After a few sips, he took some good hits, and I poured the stuff down Robert’s throat, making sure that a lot of it spilled on his shirt, too. After he caught his breath, I put the vodka to his mouth, and made him take several good swigs.

I had the two of them pretty well loaded—Robert was practically back to the super-drunken state he was in during the night! His shirt tail was out. I used it to wipe my fingerprints off the vodka bottle, which was rather ineffectual, considering that Stephanie’s cunt was filled with my sperm—but I did it all the same. I cut the nylon ties off his ankles and wrists, and pulled Robert out of the van, guiding the staggering frat boy to the driver’s seat of his car. I unlocked the door, and squeezed the jock into the sports coupe. Grabbing his hair, I pulled his head back, and put the vodka to his lips one last time.

�Drink deep, boy, drink deep. Finish it off. If it doesn’t go down your throat, I’m going to shove the whole bottle down your gullet!� I don’t know if it was fear or astonishment, but his eyes were buggy, and he swallowed most of the last two or three inches of the clear alcohol. Then I put the keys in the ignition, and started it up.

Little Stephanie was next. She was dazed. The shock of the evening—her first experience with sex, verbal humiliation, getting beaten, and now alcohol. Rough sex and hard booze. Quite a night for an innocent prep school girl! I straightened her silk dress, and zipped up her back, then led the compliant young woman—she was no longer a girl, thanks to me!—to the right side of the car, and manipulated her in.

I couldn’t resist keeping up the humilation. �You have quite a girlfriend here, Robert,� I said, as I freely fondled her braless tits through the thin shell of her silk dress. �I doubt she’ll ever go out with you again, but I must say, I really did love fucking her!� And with that, I planted one last, wet, mashing kiss on her beautiful but sad face, and shoved my hand right up underneath her dress, right in front of the bulging eyes of stupid drunken Robert. I shoved three fingers hard and deep into her naked cunt. I French-kissed her while I vigorously finger-fucked the passive woman for maybe two minutes, and Robert—his hands were free—didn’t do a thing to stop me.

Finally, I pulled back, and pulled her silky, pinky-beige pleated skirt back down to her knees. I put my fingers, fragrant with the wet smell of Stephanie’s sex, right up to his face. �Inhale boy,� I taunted. �Smell what Stephanie’s like after she’s been fucked hard three or four times! Don’t you wish you could have gotten some of her, huh?� Then I slammed shut the door of the sports car.

�I don’t think any of us will ever forget last night, kids. Of course, Robert, your memory will be kind of sketchy, cause you were kind of in and out of consciousness. And lots of the action—especially the, uh, deflowering of your girlfriend, took place when you were tied up and passed out. But Stephanie�- I reached through the open window and pointed her chin towards me—�you remember what I said about my friend. You’re going to have to be strong and handle this. If you don’t, or can’t, well, I’ll make sure, damned sure, that your unhappiness is far from finished. Understand?�

She kind of nodded. She was conscious of everything, but just barely so. I leaned into the car window—damn, I just couldn’t help myself!—and kissed her one last time, and walked away.

I had positioned the van so it was out of their line of sight, paying particular attention to keeping the license plate out of their view. I got in, and drove away, rubbing my crotch as I drove, reliving in my thoughts the wonderful rape of this utterly lovely, classy, and so very, very virginal prep school princess.



A few months went by, and I never did hear from the police. The first few days, I was, to be honest, filled with a lot of anxiety. As a few weeks passed, I felt better, and by the middle of the summer, I was confident that Stephanie had not, and would not, go to the police. I Googled her name, and found that there were quite a few entries on her: graduation, sports, attendance at some chi-chi parties and balls, and her acceptance into a swank girls college. The same for Robert.

I’ve followed her college career now, and have gathered some very nice images of her from the internet, society girl that she is. She still wears her hair long, and looks young, sweet, even virginal. But she isn’t. She is one well-fucked girl!

I look at my collected images of her, and think back to when I had her in the vacant warehouse, and fucked and abused and raped and humiliated and violated and raped her as much as I wanted! I jerk off with her half slip, bra, and panties on my prick from time to time. It would be nice to have a girlfriend as beautiful as she. I’m not likely to, so it was great having her in the vicious and sadistic way I wanted to have her.

She’s still very beautiful.

I know where she lives, goes to college, and socializes.

I wonder about her. How she’s doing, whether she got pregnant, had an abortion, things like that.

Most of all, I wonder about how her pussy would feel with my hard prick shoved way deep into it. I think about that while I wrap her blue satin slip around it and pull.

I just might pay beautiful little Stephanie a little visit and find out!