Warning: this story strays very hard into non-con
This story is based on an old story I once read. (probably on this site but long enough ago I can't remember clearly) I spent some time trying to find it, but couldn't, it might even be deleted, so I decided to make my own version, using the bare essentials I remembered liking, while adding my own spin to it. If by some unfathomable chance the author of the old story I read sees this, well... you know what they say about imitation.
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It had been just another boring day, when twelve men stormed into the bank I worked at. They were all dressed alike, head to toe in black, ski masks on and assault rifles at the ready. Four of them stood out from the rest, clearly in charge, distinguished by the color of their ski masks: Blue, Red, Green, and Orange. The rest of them all wore black, with a white number on their forehead, one through eight.
Blue rounded up the customers as Red jogged towards the stairs leading down to the vault and safety deposit boxes. Orange was fixing handcuffs on the poor security guard who'd taken a blow to the back of the head during their dramatic entrance. Green headed our way, leaping over the partition neatly and gesturing with the end of his gun. "Listen up, we don't want to hurt anyone if we don't have to, and I'm
sure
none of you wants to get hurt, so let's all calmly follow my instructions and we'll all get through this, okay?" He tossed a pile of clear plastic bags towards us. "Put every bit of paper money you can grab into those bags, quick like, if you please."
None of us were paid enough to try anything. Maybe one of the other tellers or the manager had been able to trip the silent alarm, but I had frozen the moment I saw them. I'd had dreams that started like this. Good dreams. As I watched them stream into the lobby, terrified screams echoing in their wake, a wave of tingling fear swept up my spine tinged with something I suspected no one else was feeling. I have a terrible secret you see. A secret that keeps me up, night after night, abusing myself with a vibrator. A secret I have never told anyone. A secret that has made every boyfriend a disappointment in the bedroom. A secret that terrifies me. I've never even spoken this secret aloud, not even to myself, to make it seem less real. A secret that has kept me perpetually shy, avoiding parties, and sports, or live music. I was content to live a quiet life as far away from aggressive men as possible, never having to confront my greatest fear.
I tried not to think about it as I shoved money into the bag, opening the till and dropping what had to be a few thousand dollars into it. We were supposed to add an ink bomb, but that was probably why they'd given us clear bags. Either way, I wouldn't have. I tried to make myself small. I focused on my yoga breathing, trying to keep it even so I wouldn't hyperventilate, my heart pounding in my throat making me feel frantic. The last thing I needed was to feint. That would just draw attention. My hands trembled as I forced them to move. I kept my eyes down, letting my long hair fall forward, hiding my face, as I gave Green the bag full of money, dropped haphazardly at his direction into a large duffel bag placed at his feet. I shuffled back to the huddled group of scared tellers, eyes on my feet, trying not to panic. I wasn't just afraid of him, I was afraid he'd see right through me. I couldn't help but notice how much larger he was than me. One look into my eyes and he'd know that I wasn't just afraid. One look and he'd know my secret. I was aroused. More aroused than I'd ever been in my life.
My deep dark terrible secret you see, was that I was hopelessly addicted to rape porn.
My favorites were stories. I loved reading a nice quick fantasy about a midnight intruder who just couldn't help themselves, or a boss abusing their authority. Kidnappings, abductions, locker-room pranks turned gang bangs, blackmail, mind-control, aliens, it didn't matter. As long as there was a girl who didn't want to, but was forced anyway, I got off, and I got off
hard.
I didn't choose to be this way, it's not my fault, it's just how I'm wired. I never cum as hard as when I'm fantasizing about being pinned and ravished, or tied up and teased until I beg to be raped. I know it's fucked up, I know I'm fucked up, but I couldn't stay away. The more fucked up the story, the harder I would cum. So I did my best to make sure I was never confronted with this horrible truth.
Luckily it's not exactly the easiest kink to encounter in the wild. The one serious boyfriend I'd had, had broken up with me for being boring in bed. He'd always wanted me to do things to him or for him, ride him, suck him off, dancing and stripping, and I'd always felt so awkward and unsure. I'd never been comfortable enough to share my fantasies. Now though, being trapped in a situation where there was an actual tangible chance it might happen, I was scared out of my mind, yet unable to stop the fantasies from playing out in my head over and over.
In one version they all fuck me at once, ripping my clothes off and and having their way with me, brutal and quick. In another, one of them takes me for themselves, each picking out a different hostage to slake their lusts on. He takes me to another room for some privacy, ties me down and teases me until I'm begging to suck his dick for an orgasm. In another I'm bent over and tied to a desk, as they fuck me one by one, taking turns, overwhelmed by the endlessness of the fucking until I'm so raw and worn out they switch to my ass. In another, I'm made to perform with another woman, and put on a show for them, until they're overcome and start joining in.
By the time they had collected the money and led us to the open lobby with the customers I was dripping wet. After they handcuffed us and had us sitting on the floor there was nothing I could do to stop the flood of fantasies, each more depraved than the last. Arms taught behind me and chest pushed forward, I kept my head down, hair covering my face and chest, praying over and over they wouldn't notice me, or ask me to do anything. It was then I remembered, terror creeping up my veins, that I hadn't worn underwear that day. I don't do it often, but sometimes I'm just in a mood, and today of all days, had been one of those. My breathing went quick and shallow and my head swam. I tried counting my breaths but it took a while to get my breathing under control. By the time I did the other robbers had returned and were adding their own bags of money to the large duffel bag.
"Cops will be here in six minutes," said Green, checking his watch.
"Good, we're right on time," Blue replied.
I had glanced up at them when they started talking, but looked away quickly, not wanting to draw their attention. I stared down at my lap and winced at how prominent my nipples were through my top and bra. They had been aching hard since I was put in handcuffs. If this were a story I was reading I'd be pinching and rubbing them by now. I breathed deep and slow trying to calm my racing heart. Terrible dark fantasies came and went, and I started to worry about staining the back of my skirt. I tried rubbing my thighs together to hopefully spread out my wetness, stop it from dripping down. It only made everything worse, and suddenly all I could think about was how slippery my pussy was, and how good it felt to squeeze and rub my thighs together. My eyes fluttered closed, lips parting...
Please don't let them notice me.
Sirens outside. My heart leapt for a brief moment, but I knew better. These men looked professional. They looked very ready to deal with the police. Two of the numbered men stood on either side of the entrance. They had shoved and upended some desks to act as cover in front of the large glass doors, guns lowered but ready. The one on the right reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone in one of those heavy duty cases. Carefully, keeping his body out of view from outside, he opened the door a bit and flung the phone out into the street.
After a few minutes of tense silence, the vibration of a phone broke the calm. Blue pulled the phone from his pocket, handing his rifle to Red. "Hello," he said in a deep, calm voice. He paused, listening. "I'm the leader of this operation," another pause, "I have almost thirty hostages, customers and employees of the bank," another longer pause, "we have two demands, a hundred million in cash, non-sequential and random denominations, and three helicopters landed on the roof of this bank. For every hour our demands go unmet, we will
rape
one of the hostages."
Gasps from around the room, then slowly, from several directions, quiet crying. The fear crested over us in a palpable wave. I shrank in on myself. Trembling. I squeezed my thighs together, horribly aware of how wet I was. My clit starting to harden and throb.
Please no please no please no...
"That's right," Blue continued, amusement laced through his words. It was quiet enough to hear the outraged yelling on the other end of the call, "and, just to prove we're serious," he continued, trailing off while gently placing the phone down on a nearby ATM with out ending the call, a furious and unintelligible voice screaming through the tinny speaker. His thick military style boots clicked softly as he walked towards us. The crying had stopped, all of us frozen and silent in fear of what would happen next, no one wanting to draw attention to themselves.
Please no please no please no
I chanted in my head as Blue stalked around the huddled hostages, muttering '
