Alone in the Country

This is not a true story. This is Pure Fantasy.

Who would've thought something bad could turn out so good!

I was expecting a visitor so I never gave it a thought... until afterwards. Who would way out here in the country? Hell, you couldn't even see the house from the road. I'd lived here for over four years and the only person I'd ever had visit was those I expressly invited. Even my mail always went to the post office box on the edge of town. I've had new repairmen call and ask where I was three times at least, every time a new one came out. In fact, I ask for the same repairmen from the different utilities so that I don't have to repeatedly tell them how to get out here, once usually suffices after a first visit. I'm a bit hard to find out here for someone new. It's not always easy to answer the phone when I'm working so I like to keep it simple. It'd probably help to put a sign out by the road, but I preferred it this way.

All my friends think I'm nuts, living out here all alone, but I love it. I have all the space I could want for myself and all the silence I'd ever need. I have the nature I need and the privacy I require. Even my few friends, that know where I am, rarely come out and never without calling first. They rarely come out though. I usually go into the city where I was born and raised, yet detested, whenever I wanted company.

I knew young that I'd live in the country as soon as I became an adult... well, as soon as I could afford the cost. I didn't waste time, though. I worked from the age of fifteen with my goal foremost in mind, squirreling away every dime I could and even worked two jobs when I graduated high school just to get up enough money.

While I did a year in college I found this place by accident, happily so. It had a two bedroom house that sat on 3 acres and was all mine now. The best thing was that it was surrounded by woods and around my three acres was a huge farm that hadn't cut down the farthest edges of their woods either, creating a small forest. I loved it. So quiet.

The sound of a vehicle pulling up out front brought me out of the barn where I'd been working and I headed up to the porch as I listened to two doors closing. That'd be the men to work on the well. The pump had quit working earlier that morning just as I'd got my work water run, thankfully. It'd been acting up for days and I'd tried to fix it myself, but it was beyond my handywoman's skills. So, I'd had to call them out to fix it for me. It still irked, as I preferred to do for myself, but I knew when to quit also, I thought wryly as I circled around the porch that wrapped the west side of the house, shading it from the hot summer rays.

Just as the two men were about to ring the bell, I stepped around the corner. "Gentlemen, the well's out back." I said as I eyed them.

The one reaching to push the buzzer was carrying a clipboard in the other hand and used it to push back his black cowboy hat as he turned to look at me. He was a several inches taller than my five foot three inches and stocky looking, but not overly so. Very good looking. He wore low heel work boots and jeans that were scuffed and speckled with mud. His shirt looked fairly clean for this late in the day, just a couple of sweat stains. His partner was similarly dressed and a bit muddier, but taller by a couple of inches and wearing a grey cowboy hat. He was also thinner and not as good looking, although that was hard to tell with that heavy stubble on his jaw and the scowl he was giving her.

The shorter spoke to his partner without looking at him, saying, "Jim, take the truck around back. We'll meet you there." With a nod, Jim turned on his heel and went back down the stairs to the truck as the other one came towards her holding out his hand. "That was Jim and I'm Rick. You're Emma Walker?"

Taking his hand I nodded, then let go and motioned for him to follow me as I said, "Thanks for coming out so soon. I can't have the pump down too long." He followed me around to the back of the house again and I took him down the steps watching as Jim brought the truck around, following the drive. I pointed over to the well house and he continued past us as we took the walkway over to it. Jim parked the truck and got out to go over to the small shed that had been erected over the well pump. The door was already open and my smaller toolbox was still inside on the floor.

Stepping back, I let the two men enter, then knelt and closed the toolbox before pulling it out of the shed to give them room. "Pump's about 10 yrs old. I've been nursing it along for the eight months, but it's beyond me now. The woman I spoke to said a new pump would cost about two grand and that you can take cards for repairs. Let me know what you find. I'll be in the barn." I told them as they tipped the work lights I'd installed and turned them on. Rick nodded without looking up and I turned away only to turn back and say, "Oh yeah, I changed that switch you've got your eye on just last year and it still seems to be working fine."

As I said this, Jim looked over to me, gave me a look me up and down, then frowned as he huffed, "When's your boyfriend getting home?"

Arching a brow, I shook my head. "What the does he have to do with anything?" I asked with a frown, not about to admit I didn't have one coming home.

With a snort, he muttered, "Wanted to discuss how he put in the switch."

I frowned, but before I could say anything, Rick growled, "Don't worry about it Ms. Walker. I'll come find you when we figure out what's wrong."

"Thank you, Rick." I said, then turned away, still frowning at Jim until he was blocked from my view.

Rick glared at Jim as she disappeared, then moved over to the shed door to watch until she disappeared into the barn. Turning back to his partner he snapped quietly, "What was that about?"

Shrugging, Jim pulled his meter out of his tool belt and said, "She wasn't wearing a ring, wanted to see if she had a boyfriend."

"What the hell does that matter?" Rick demanded as he moved over to look at the well.

Jim shrugged again. "Pretty little thing, isn't she."

"Yeah, too bad you angered her. If she doesn't have a boyfriend you just screwed up your chances with her." Rick scoffed.

"Perhaps, perhaps not." Jim said with a soft chuckle.

Rick stared at him a few minutes, then shook his head. "I know that look. Whatever is going on in your mind, just forget it, Jim."

A half hour later, Rick appeared in the door to my barn and I moved into sight using my stained apron to dry off my dye gloves that were dripping on the hard, dirt floor. As I'd thought, the pump was shot. Rick said that he had a new one on his truck that he'd be able to fix it with, he just needed her permission. He told me the price, a hundred more than estimated, but I'd expected that, and said they could finish by supper time.

Nodding, I took his offered pen and signed the consent to repair and replace where he pointed with a long, thick finger. Two hours later, he returned to the barn to tell me they were done and asked which card I'd be using to pay with. Sighing thankfully, I pealed off the dripping gloves and headed up to the house telling him I'd be using a visa for the purchase. I set the gloves on the small, stained table by the back door and leaned inside the door. Having left the card on the kitchen counter, it was within reach so that I didn't have to step in and track up the floor I'd just mopped just that morning.

Turning, I found Rick right behind me, looking over my shoulder into the house, holding his machine. He stepped back when I frowned and I pulled the door to me. It didn't take but a minute or so to scan the card and get another signature then return the card to the counter. Fifteen minutes later I was watching them drive out of my yard. With another sigh, I returned to the barn, pulling on my gloves. I was almost done with this batch of dyes and another thirty minutes saw me done for the day.

It was great to have a shower, without any glitches or drains on the pressure, cooling off after having sweated all day. When I was clean and dry, I stepped out of my bathroom as I pulled on a tank top dress of thin dyed cotton. It hit about mid thigh and was cool and comfy to both wear around the house and to sleep in. To further cool off, I made myself a salad for dinner.

Afterwards, I went out onto the back porch, a nightly ritual, and listened to the crickets for a bit while I sipped a glass of wine before slipping on my flip flops and heading out to the barn to check on my drying cloths. With my mind on my days work still, I returned to the house a short time later satisfied and happy.

Stepping inside, I turned as I set my wine glass on the counter and poured a couple more inches of wine and sipped it as I stared out the back window at the shed thinking of all I had to do tomorrow. When I finished the wine, I rinsed the glass and set it in the sink then headed back for bed. I rose early and often went to bed early as well, doing good if I caught the nine o'clock news reports.

Tonight I caught the last half of the news and, thankfully, the weather. It was going to rain the next afternoon, good to know 'cause we really needed it. As always, I set the timer on the TV so that it would shut off by itself and by the time it went off thirty minutes after the news, I was out for the night.

Or so I thought.

An hour or two later, I'm unsure what the time was, I was awakened by a hand clamping down on my shoulder and pushing down. As I was lying on my side, facing the center of the bed, it pushed me onto my stomach. I gasped, not quite awake, so it was a minute before I thought to struggle, by then my hands were being pulled over my head even as my legs were being yanked straight to the foot of the bed. "What the h---?" I started to struggle then, but it was too late. My hands were tied together at the wrists and then to the bars on my headboard. I tried to see who it was, but as I needed total darkness to sleep well, my room was so dark that I barely saw the shadow of someone as it moved away from me.

From the size of the hands gripping my feet, I knew it was a man there and while I didn't remember the other's on my hands I was pretty sure he was a man too. I heard some shuffling of the sheets beside me, then something was put over my head. It smelled like me and was very soft so I was pretty sure it was one of my pillowcases. A second later, the ceiling fan light was turned on and I saw the flowers of the sheets and knew I was right.

As I was flipped onto my back the one at my feet let go long enough that I was able to begin kicking wildly. I wasn't long-legged, but I had strong legs and I kept kicking until they both were forced to hold me down with their upper bodies. I'd managed to kick each of them a few times even as I was cursing and demanding they release me. Not that it did much good.. All they did was grunt and hiss, they didn't speak a word though, not even to each other. For all I knew, I could know them, I just hoped I didn't. Because they each tied a leg to the bars on the footboard then stripped the sheets from the bed. The action confirmed what I'd begun to fear but had refused to really think about. They hadn't come to steal my things.

Hissing as I tried to free my hands and feet I called them cowards and assholes for attacking a woman asleep in her bed. One of them reached up to were my skimpy summer nightwear had ridden up to my hips and ripped the thin material right up the center. "Son of a bitch!" I snapped. "I get thirty dollars a piece for those!" I tried to bring my knee up into his ribs, but my feet were on a short leash and he moved aside as he exposed the fact that I was naked beneath. I was glad my face was covered then, because I knew I was beet red from my hairline to my nipples no doubt. In the silence following my tirade over their cowardice again, I heard the sound of a buckle being undone. Having worn a belt for years and having heard it when my father went to punish me, I knew that sound. "Assholes can't get a woman apparently, why else come out here and rape a woman you don't know. And why the blindfold? Afraid I might recognize you and turn you in? You can bet your cowardly asses will be sitting behind bars if I-" I gasped as I felt the bite of leather come down sharply over my thighs.

"Bastard!" I hissed as tears filled my eyes. A second hit came then and I cried out in pain, but it didn't keep me from calling him a bastard again, and a few more choice names as I squirmed in pain. Another hit came and the tears pouring out of my eyes filled my voice, but it didn't stop my curses. The one beside me cleared his throat and the beating stopped midway into another hit, I know this because I felt the wind of the belt brush my aching skin as it passed near me and heard the slap of it hitting someone else's skin than mine. Why couldn't he have done that sooner. After all, I'm not the one who broke in, I had a right to cuss and scream and insult them.

A second later the bed dipped hard between my ankles and I tried to use my feet to shift me away, but there was no room for that with they way they had me strapped down. Feeling him coming up between my calves, I tried to close my knees and though I used all the strength I had, his hands pushed them just wide enough so that he could keep coming. Denim scrapped the insides of my knees and thighs, then I felt the edge of a zipper drag deeply across my inner thighs as he wedged his hips between them. I fought the bonds harder, tried to buck him off, but he was larger and stronger than me. There was no stopping him.

His bare cock bumped against my neatly trimmed nether lips, then his hand came between us to open the way for him to find the right spot a bare moment before he thrust into me. I screamed, no where near ready for him... no where near ready for his size. His cock was a monster! I'd had sex several times with a couple different partners, but never so big and always with at least a little foreplay. But that wasn't the worst. He withdrew the couple inches he'd gotten in past the head, then forced himself forward again, dragging dryly against my channel. I cried out for him to stop, but he didn't, ignoring my pleas. He just kept at me like he had with the beating he'd given me.

I heard movement beside me, heard something like a cap opening then smelled my favorite body oil. I started struggling harder, protesting worse than ever, but it did me no good. One of his hands left the bed by my hip for a second, only to slip between us a moment later as he withdrew enough to coat his cock with my oil. It was my favorite oil for one reason, not that they'd know that for it didn't say anything more that 'A oil' on it.

It was my favorite because I always used it when I visited lovers or pleasured myself with my vibrator. The 'A' was for 'arousing'. It was a specially blended oil for arousing both partners through the skin, almost an aphrodisiac. It wasn't latex friendly, but we always considered that into the fact. Not that it mattered now, this one wasn't wearing a condom anyways.

His next thrust made me scream for a different reason. He went balls deep and that was too deep for me. I'd never had a lover or even a vibrator go six inches into me. There'd just never been room. While I was crying and trying to pull away, he was groaning has he hung over me. He didn't wait either, just pulled almost all the way out only to thrust again. Begging, whimpering, crying, cursing, not even insults helped. He dragged his long fat cock out of my sore pussy then shoved it back in as deep as he could.

His partner in crime released one of my legs so my rapist could push my right leg out farther, giving him more room to cram his cock into me, moaning and groaning with each thrust. In moments, he gave a curse and I felt it too. A tingling, a warmth. It was welcome in a way because it not only provided even more lubrication, it also increased the feelings, making one very sensitive to every touch, slide, and glide.

It didn't do much for the soreness right away. But after awhile my body became accustomed to his slide, somewhat, and the oil definitely made it better physically. I just wasn't sure how I was going to deal with this emotionally though. My crying began to taper off as he began to mutter under his breath about how good I felt, how tight, how his cock was tingling, how his balls and cock were hot outside of me, then cool against or inside of me. Yeah, that was my oil. Nice, huh?

My other leg was released and he slid a hand under my ass to lift me up into his thrusts and I began gasping in pleasure rather than pain. "Bitch." he hissed as I braced my feet on his jean clad thighs and squirmed beneath him, but it wasn't in my need to get away. I was rubbing my clit against him. I unusually loved my oil and it loved me, right then I could've done without it. I didn't want to enjoy my rape, I sure didn't want them to know it if I did, but that's not how the oil worked and certainly not with the amount he'd used.

It made sex pleasurable for both partners every time. I had never had a bad sexual experience since having this oil. In fact the two men I use it with semi-regularly are completely in love with me every time we come together... afterwards it's back to friends. They know it's mostly the oil, just like I do, I've had to prove it, but it was worth it. They are great friends, but not what I want in a husband.

Now, a rapist was fucking me and we were both going to enjoy it more than I'd like. He thrust again and again, rubbing against the inside of my pussy like I've never felt before. In no time I screamed with the release of a huge orgasm that made him curse as he stilled, groaning as my pussy clutched at his cock over and over.

It was a few moments before it began to subside, then he began thrusting again, harder, making the bed rock back and hit the wall. I gasped and panted through several thrusts, only to scream as another orgasm flooded me. He didn't stop this time, but cursed again as he braced both hands up near my shoulders and plowed on, filling my pussy over and over as I braced my feet up by his hips and held onto the bars of the headboard so that I could thrust my hips back up to him, helping him fuck me deep.

It was several minutes before another orgasm hit me again, and this time he got his too. As I was eagerly fucking that cock of his, he slammed deep and collapsed on top of me. I wasn't ready to be done, my hips were still thrusting eager for a fourth climax. I'd never had so many in one lovemaking session, but then, I'd never used so much oil before. A few drops mixed into my natural juices and my partner and I had a nice evening. I'd never coated my lovers cock in the stuff nor used it on myself dry. My body gradually eased and he rose up off my chest with a grunt.

Without a word, he dragged his fat cock from my very sensitive pussy, making me shudder at the loss of his heat and the punishing tool he'd raped me with. I didn't even bother to close my legs as the cool air was pleasing then. I sensed them move away and I heard muttering whispers over near my bedroom door. I couldn't tell what they were saying, but I was sure the night wasn't over. Unless my rapist was going to get greedy and refuse to share now that he'd had his.

That wasn't the case though, much to my shame and regret. Rapist number two joined me on the bed, he was a little shorter than the first one, but no less of a 'man'. He was a lot kinder though. He gently rolled me over and drew me up onto my knees as he pushed a pillow beneath my hips, then I heard the oil top being popped open, then closed, before gently thunking on the nightstand. He came up on his knees behind me, I was done fighting, cursing, insulting. My pussy was too eager for more. I was weeping enough of my juices that the oil really wasn't needed ...and still throbbing from his buddy, yet burning for whatever was to come.