Intruder Ch 11

(sorry for the long wait, you guys. This story reveals a bit more about John's back-story, hope you enjoy it!)

I fell on my back onto the luxuriously soft, silk sheets as John hiked up the hem of my nightdress and readied his cock to penetrate me. I spread my thighs and relaxed my body, tingling with anticipation, my entrance so moist with pleasure, so eager to be violated. The head of his manhood touched the wet hole between my legs, making me shiver with pleasure as I prepared to submit to him. Then he thrust home.

John had entered me hundreds of time, and every time he did I gasped aloud as his cock filled me to the brim. It didn't hurt the way it did when he first deflowered me, and certainly not in the way it surely would when his baby came out in five months time, but it was supremely snug and my pussy stretched elastically in response to his masculine intrusion. His naked body in close proximity to mine alone made me yearn to submit to him. The mere presence of his manhood inside my womanhood sapped all my will to resist. I felt conquered, and I wanted him to conquer me, over and over again.

His thrusting was slow and deliberate at first, like an alpha bull acclimatising to a submissive, new conquest. I let out a soft yelp with each inward stroke,

I rolled over onto my side, mindful of my pregnant belly as John lay down beside me, spooning me from behind. His naked, masculine presence made me purr contentedly as he wrapped his arm across my body and kissed me softly on the neck. I adjusted my bare thighs a little as my rapist-lover's cum began to leak from my freshly fucked pussy.

"You're getting better at this." I remarked to John.

"I was good long before I found you," the father of my baby replied conceitedly.

"I wasn't talking about sex," I laughed, "I mean you're getting better at this: cuddling me like a devoted boyfriend and father-to-be should, instead of hoarding me like you used to."

"I have 54 other children." John reminded me, "I'm already a father."

"All of them were had by women you raped," I pointed out to him, feeling residual discomfort at the fact that he was a serial rapist, "you may have raped me too, but our child will be the first you'll ever get to be a father to . . . I hope."

John didn't reply. Instead, he lovingly caressed my pregnant belly through the silken fabric of my nightgown, contemplating the life that his urges had sparked into being. I closed my eyes in sensual humility, powerlessly drawn to the virile authority of the man who'd impregnated me against my will and yet still managed to compel my submission.

"Who was your first?" I wondered aloud. I hadn't meant to say it aloud, but the question was out of the bag now.

"My first victim or my first sexual partner?" John asked.

"Your first victim," I clarified, "and please tell me your first time wasn't a rape."

"It wasn't," he assured me, "on my 18th birthday, a girl at a party took me back to her dorm room and took my virginity. She was too drunk and too horny to care that I didn't have a rubber, so I developed a taste for bareback from fucking her."

"That's reassuring," I replied, "that would be monstrous if you'd actually started your sex life by raping women."

"My first non-consensual encounter was a few months later."

"Tell me about it." I said.

"Why?" he asked me, sounding puzzled and slightly uncomfortable.

"Because I want to know what goes on inside baby-daddy's head." I explained, "And, as one of your victims, I want to know why you became a rapist and why you continued. Not the philosophical stuff about masculine dominance, I want to know what made you start to believe it in the first place."

John was silent, either contemplating my request, or thinking of a way to reject it nicely.

"How much do you want to know?" he asked me.

"Every detail," I answered bluntly, "especially the sexual details. I want to know why rape appealed to you sexually, not just intellectually."

Another long pause.

"Alright." he agreed at last.

***

I didn't even know who she was. She was a senior, whereas I was just freshman, and she was smoking hot. I never saw her with anyone who might be her boyfriend, or any close male friends for that matter, but she would always walk about the place in the sexiest outfits; usually not slutty, but always sexy. She liked to go out with female friends, but never hooked up with guys as far as I knew. Plus, she had straight A's, and excelled at all her classes. I hate admitting it, but a girl doing that well made me feel very insecure, even though I was a brilliant student myself. If I'd known her personally it wouldn't have been so bad, but somehow, her aloofness and mystery, coupled with her stellar academic performance, made me feel somehow inadequate. The fact that she was so god damn hot, and always wore these sexy outfits, made it twice as bad.

One night, I saw her in a new outfit. She had the perfect model's face, with expressive eyes, full lips, and a nose stud. She had naturally dark hair, but she'd dyed it with blond highlights. Her breasts were plump and proportional to her chest, obviously not fake. There was a gentle hourglass curve to her body, with these perfect looking, baby making hips - though that wasn't originally on mind - and beautiful, sculpted thighs. She had a pair of really short shorts on, the kind that leaves almost the entire thigh bare. She had on a belly shirt, not the kind where the bottom is cut off, this shirt was buttoned and designed to leave a triangular gap to expose the belly. And she had a belly piercing, a turquoise-green barbell. Ever since I saw that stomach of hers, I've been hooked on belly piercings. They never fail to make me hard, and just watching her walk past me in the corridor made my cock stand to attention right then and there. She also had this sexy walk, not a deliberate style of walking as far as I could tell, but a natural strut which made her hips and ass sway gently as she moved.

I drank her in during that ten second strut-by, her hair, her face, her figure, her outfit, everything about her. I didn't even get a second glance from her. I was pretty strong and toned by that point, but I felt like an insect being passed over by a goddess, and I didn't like it. I'd seen her plenty of times before, but never felt so small or inadequate in that moment. I couldn't think of anything else as she swiped her key card and disappeared into her room.

That gorgeous body and the sluttiest outfit I'd ever seen her wear; it was almost as if she dressed that way to goad men who saw her. I didn't know her as a person, so I had no idea if it was true, but I imagined that she believed that whilst men were beneath her, it was still gratifying for her to torture them with her body, torment them with the sight of something they could never have. I hated that so much. In retrospect, I should have just grown a pair and struck up a conversation, but I wasn't thinking that way. The mere sight of her dressed that way kindled an urge inside me, an urge I had to make her satisfy.

***

"That sounds to me like 'Love at first sight' gone seriously wrong." I commented, tingling with curiosity.

"Lust at first sight would be more accurate," John clarified, "there was no love in what I felt then, and certainly none in what I did next."

"Don't spare any details." Leah said firmly, "I want to know how the rapist was born."

***

After she disappeared into her dorm room, I couldn't think of anything else except the beautiful body of hers. I went to her door and saw she hadn't shut it properly. On the spur of the moment, I opened her door and walked in. Her dorm room was a really nice room for seniors with high grades. It had its own common room and a mini-kitchen, as well as an en-suite bathroom, plus an incredibly comfortable bed that folded down from the wall. She had her back to me, as she got undressed, and I was extremely quiet, so she didn't hear me enter the room or shut and lock the door behind me.

She'd stripped down to her underwear, a semi-transparent black lace bra and panties, which made my cock absolutely rock-solid. Then she turned around and saw me. She yelped in shock, fortunately not loud enough to alert anyone, but I had to suppress the urge to panic. We just stood there facing each other; she was too scared to move, and for a long while so was I. Then, looking at her standing there almost naked, with that same hot body and delicious belly piercing, the sight of her rekindled my urges enough to overwhelm my fears, and I advanced towards her.

She didn't even move until I laid my hands on her. Then she started struggling, but I was far stronger than her, and just used my body weight to make her fall back onto the bed so I could pin her there. I was amazed afterwards that she hardly made a sound, she just wriggled and squirmed as I forced my way between her naked thighs. I undid my belt and pulled my trousers down for sex. She panicked at the sight of my erection and started to struggle more, but still refusing to scream out loud. Then I grabbed her panties and tore them off, along with her bra. Finally, I forced her body down and held it there as I lined up the head of my penis with her pussy. She resisted right to the point when my cock touched the entrance to her womanhood, but when I thrust inside, her will to resist completely melted away.

Her pussy was perfect. It was just tight enough to be a snug home for my cock as I pushed it all the way in, but not so tight that it squeezed me like a vice. It was just wet and smooth enough to ease my entry inside her, but not so slick with her juices that the sex would be messy. Just as her body was perfect, especially when I became physically connected with it, even the level of resistance that she offered was just right. Not too violent, and yet not to submissive. As soon as I was inside her, the fight in her dissolved and she just accepted what was happening to her. She submitted to my will.

All the while, from when I was overpowering her to when I entered her, it was nothing but lust that drove me on, a wild, bestial lust that had to be satiated. I started thrusting straight away, long and powerful strokes that made her whimper as I fucked her. It was slick and smooth as I mated with her, and my pace naturally increased as I continued humping her. I also started angling my hips so my pubic bone rubbed against her clitoris. I did all I could to pleasure her body as much as her body was pleasuring me. She barely fought against it, physically at least; but she tried so hard to suppress the pleasure mentally. Accepting that a rapist had forced his way inside her and patiently waiting for him to cum was one thing, feeling genuine pleasure at been fucked against her will was a humiliation she couldn't bear. But ultimately, I overpowered her in that respect as well. In fact it excited me even more than before to see her driven to ecstasy by the act of being forced upon, and I raped her more vigorously than ever until finally I thrust my hips forward and came inside her.

The feeling was glorious. I ejaculated everything I had into her, one dollop after another just kept filling her. It didn't occur to me that she might get pregnant, but that would have completed the experience. I didn't actually last that long, but it was a sublime mating; successfully inseminating her felt like a triumph of the masculine over the feminine, it was enormously empowering. Once I was done, I pulled out and put my clothes back on. She just lay there on the bed, looking shaken, and taken. I felt this horrible twinge of guilt just looking at her, so I left as quickly as I'd arrived.

That was my first rape. It was very quick, but it felt amazing at the time; but afterwards, it occurred to me that I'd committed a rape. The guilt nagged at me for days afterwards, and I was terrified that she might report me to the authorities. That would have been the end of my time at MIT, and I would have thoroughly deserved it.

***

"You raped that poor girl because she made you feel inadequate?" I said, fascinated and disturbed in equal measure by what I'd just heard.

"Partly, yes," John replied, "but for the most I was just turned by the sight of her. I could have fucked her or masturbated in my room, and a warm, wet pussy feels so much better around my cock than a hand."

"Did you feel guilty after raping me?" I asked John, not sure if I wanted to know.

"No," was the swift reply, "my thinking had evolved well before then. By the time I first saw you, I was fully convinced that mating with any woman I choose is my alpha male birthright. Breeding you fulfilled the need in my genes, and passed then on to our baby. I don't feel guilty about obeying the demands of evolution."

"And fertile, young women like her and I endure the consequences," I concluded with a sigh, rubbing my pregnant belly, "still, I've done pretty well having a baby by you."

"You can't do better than me." John answered with another conceited smile. I laughed at his statement, but as arrogant as it was, it was pretty much true.

"Did anything else happen?" I asked John, turning serious again.

"That wasn't the last I saw of her, actually." he replied.

"Spill it all." I told him.

***

We lived just down the hall from each other, so we saw each other every day. She would keep her head down whenever I was near, which is understandable for her, but for some reason I couldn't bear to look in her direction. What I'd done to her felt horribly wrong, and I was still terrified that she'd call the police or the campus authorities about the rape. Apparently her grades stayed the same, which was a pretty amazing feat given what I'd put her through, but I found out later how much she hated what I'd done to her, because she came and told me.

One evening, I opened the door to my dorm room and she came over and tasered me in the middle of the hall. When I woke up, I was completely naked, and my wrists were tied to the bedstead. It wasn't nearly as kinky as it sounds, given that the girl I'd raped a few weeks earlier was crouched between my legs with her hand on my junk.

"If you flinch, I'll squeeze so hard you'll never have children," she hissed menacingly.

Even after I'd been in combat when I was in the Special Boat Service, I never felt so afraid than when she said that to me. She hadn't even told me what she wanted, but she put me in the most vulnerable position I had ever been in. I was completely powerless. I didn't dare fight back in case she made good on her threat; and worst of all, I knew she had every reason to. It was all made worse by the fact that she was wearing exactly the same outfit she'd had on the night I raped her. She looked even sexier up close, and in spite of being so afraid, I had a huge boner just from looking at her. There was this cold fear slithering up and down my spine, and yet I was actually aroused by the girl who'd overpowered me.

"Do you feel powerless and afraid?" she asked me coldly, "well that's how you made me feel when you raped me you sick pervert."

"Then why haven't you reported me?" I asked her, trying to sound calm and collected.

"Because they wouldn't do anything about it," she replied, "barely 6% of rapists in this country are ever convicted; and even when they are, the victim is scarred for life."

"So you want revenge?"

"No." she said to me, "I'm doing this to face my fear."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been afraid of you ever since that night," she explained, her voice starting to tremble, "I lay awake at night, terrified that might come back and violate me again. I'll never be rid of that fear until I face it, and realise that it's just a cowardly little boy, who didn't have the balls to ask for what he wanted so badly."

Her words really stung my ego, but I had no choice but to take the abuse. The fact that she had the moral, as well as the physical, high ground, made me feel very small indeed as she insulted me, all the while holding my masculinity hostage.

"And best of all," she continued with this sultry tone that me quiver with arousal, "I could still say no, because my body belongs to ME. No man has the right to force himself on me, or do anything to my body without my consent, and I really am tempted to squeeze your nuts to teach that lesson. But just having the power to do it is so much sweeter.

"I don't need to be afraid of you anymore," she whispered in my ear, deliberately giving me a view of her plump breasts, "but you should definitely be afraid of me, you miserable rapist. Very, very afraid of a vengeful victim."

At that point she made the mistake of letting her hand slip away from my balls and up the length of my cock. In that split second, I forced her over and onto her back, and ripped the sheets she'd used as cuffs away from the bedstead before forcing myself between her legs and pinning her wrists to the bed. She was taken completely by surprise by the sudden reversal of power, and was mortally terrified by me. I was an angry and vengeful male, twice as strong and aggressive as the young woman who'd threatened me in such a tender place, and I was stark naked, thanks to her.

"You shouldn't have done that, you little whore." I snarled nastily.

"You can't kill me," she said with impressive bravery.

"Of course I can," I replied menacingly, "I just don't want to. No, I'd rather fuck you again. You were a slutty little cock-tease when I first saw you, and now here you are again, wearing the same slutty little outfit as before, threatening my manhood and teasing it until it's hard again. You need punishment and I need release."

"Well go ahead then," she snapped, the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes unbelievably defiant, "fuck me. Rape me like the heartless monster you are. I won't cry out. I refused to cry out then, and I refuse to cry out now. Once you've had your way with me again, I'll still have the moral high ground, and you'll still be an evil rapist with no heart and no soul."

Her words stung a lot more than before, and I seriously doubted whether I wanted to rape her or not. I realised that I'd done a horrible thing to her, even if it was just to relieve my own needs, and my conscience genuinely did tug me away from the decision to rape her. But nature is stronger than nurture. Her sexual power play had made my dick as hard as an iron bar, and my fury at being emasculated by her had mingled with my raging libido, making me NEED, not want, need to rape her, if only to establish my power over her.

So I made a decision that night, and I never looked back: I raped her again.

I ripped open her buttoned shirt to expose her bra before tearing it away, exposing her plump, young breasts to me, not to mention her delicious belly piercing. Then I unbuttoned her extra-short shorts and yanked them downwards, taking her panties down with them. Amazingly, she did virtually nothing to resist me, in fact, she barely struggled at all, it was almost as if she were resigned to the fate I was imposing on her.

Once her pussy was exposed to me, I took my cock in hand and lined it up with her feminine entrance. She trembled when the glans of my penis touched her labia, and even more amazingly, she was already moist.

"You're a beast," she said to me.

"You entered his lair," I responded menacingly, "now he's entering you."

With that dramatic statement, I thrust my cock inside her. She cried out as I drove home into her, but cut it short so it didn't become a scream. Now I had the power again. I was physically inside of her, and on top of her. She couldn't escape without my consent. How perverse was that? Moreover, she had forced me into submission by physically threatening the great symbol of my masculinity, what better way to put her in her place than by using my manhood to violate her womanhood? It felt so natural, so poetic, and yet it was so wrong.