Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
Vivian was from a typical upper-middle class family outside College Station, Texas. Her mother was a adjunct professor at the nearby university and her father was the manager of a chain of Chevrolet dealerships around Houston. H spent a lot of time traveling. Vivian and her sister grew up in a nice home and both attended a private school. Upon graduating from high school, Vivian attended Texas A&M and eventually received an MBA. She married Larry Drake and, they too, had two daughters.
By the time Vivian was 40 years old, both she and her husband were pulling down six-figure salaries. Larry was a commodities trader and she was regional manager for a bank. They lived in a comfortable house and their daughters attended the same prestige's school that she had attended. Her oldest daughter was 14 and her youngest was 12. Life was good for the Drakes.
Vivian's office was about eight miles from her home, and whenever she took the short cut, she had to drive by an overlooked rundown building that always had six or eight young black men standing around. The men all appeared to be young and were all shapes and sizes. Thy were always smoking or drinking or listening to loud music or revving up their old car engines. And when she drove by in her BMW, they would all hoot and holler at her. She tried not to acknowledge them, but sometimes they were just too loud, and she found herself just shaking her head in condemnation of them. That made them laugh and yell obscenities at her even more.
On this particular Friday, Vivian was rushing to get home after a brief celebration at a restaurant near one of her bank branches. It was 8:30 and she had nursed two glasses of wine over a two-hour period so she knew she was good to drive home. The examiners had finally left her largest branch office, and she was pleased that their report would be a good one this time. Her daughters were spending the night with friends, her husband was on the road and she was planning on opening another bottle, climbing into the hot tub and getting pleasantly inebriated to celebrate.
As she approached the rundown old building, she noticed a larger group of blacks hanging out tonight. It took her attention briefly from the road, just long enough to miss one of the men pulling out in front of her on his motorcycle. She saw him at the last second and swerved hitting the curb hard enough to break the wheel and flatten the tire on the front passenger side of her car. She pulled off the road and jumped from her car, running around to the passenger side and looking down at the disabled wheel.
"Fuck!" She screamed. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
She felt a hand squeeze her ass and a deep voice, "You come to da right place, bitch. We can arrange for ya to get fucked."
She turned and jumped away from the imposing hand and said, "Don't you dare touch me!" The big black man looked down at the 5'4" white woman and laughed. Her eyes were as big as saucers as she screamed, "Don't laugh at me, ass hole!" That made the man laugh even harder.
By now, a few other young black men had drifted over to see what was going on. One of them asked, "Whass up, Les?"
"Dis uppity white bitch thinks she can come to our place and tell us what to do. We probably gonna have ta explain that ain't the way things are done here." They all laughed as their eyes traveled over the 40-year-old white woman. She wore a knee-length navy skirt and white button-up blouse. Her matching navy jacket was in the back seat of her car. They grinned as their eyes traveled from her "C-size" breasts across her almost flat stomach and down her shapely tanned legs.
Vivian realized that she might be in trouble. She said, "Listen guys, I'm sorry. I'm on my way home and I just.... Wait. What are you doing?"
The five men had surrounded her and were all pushing their chests against her much smaller body. The men's clothes were dirty and the smell was overwhelming. She felt a hand on her ass again.
