The Shortcut 1

My name is Kristina Grace. I'm an 18 year old college student, a freshman at a small liberal arts school in the southern United States. I'm 5 ft 5, 130 pounds. I'm not as skinny as a stick, but I'm nothing near overweight. I guess I'm what you would call "average," though I like to think of myself as slightly less than average.

I have long brown hair, as well as deep brown eyes. I love to spend time outside, so I have a very nice summer tan, not one of those fake tanning salon tans. I'm a B cup, my breasts fitting perfectly in a guys hands, and I have what I think is a perfect ass - big enough to be noticeable, but tight when I flex and soft to the touch.

I was a virgin when I entered college, but in less than a month that changed. It wasn't long before I came to really enjoy sex. This is the story of what happened. I've never told another person, but I can't get it out of my head.

I was walking back from the library at 1 in the morning one night after struggling to finish a paper for one of my classes that was due the next day. The paper was only three pages long, but it was impossible to concentrate in my dorm - my friends were still in "welcome to college party mode". To the library it was.

I didn't plan on staying that long, so I didn't bring a flashlight with me. It really wasn't that big of a deal - most of the campus was pretty well lit, and the campus police made regular patrols. I could have called the safety service to have one of the after-hours-use golf carts pick me up, but I felt safe. I didn't want to be the wuss who was too afraid to go back to her dorm room alone. So I started walking back.

Normally, it's about a ten minute walk back to my dorm from the library - almost completely across campus, but I was tired, and there was a bit of a shortcut that led past a pretty little waterfall built into the side of the hill. Sometimes after dinner you could see couples there, but most people didn't know about it, and I figured this late at night no one would be there.

What I didn't count on was it being almost completely pitch black. The light from the sidewalk didn't penetrate past the bushes once you started down the steps on the hill. All I could hear were my footsteps and the rush of the water as it collected in the pool at the bottom of the hill before being pumped back up.

I stumbled down the steps, feeling along the side of the hill. Eventually I reached the bottom and slowly made my way over to the stone wall with my arms stretched out in front of me. I felt the hard stone and started inching my way along. I knew there was a bench somewhere along there, and if I could make it there I could sit and call my roommate to bring me a flashlight.

I continued walking as I ran my hands along the hard wall, when I felt the dip, indicating that the bench was coming up soon. I pushed my hands back farther and felt something soft.

I nearly jumped out of my skin as a rough hand grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards its owner as the other hand clamped over my mouth, preventing me from voicing the scream caught in my throat.

I was jerked hard onto the bench, the coarse stone scratching my thighs below my shorts. A soft voice whispered in my ear, "Don't scream, and I won't hurt you.... Much." Then he chuckled.

Despite the warm September night I got chills. I shivered, feeling goose bumps pop up on my arms.

Before I knew it, my wrists were tied together with some kind of cloth strip. I didn't even realize his hand was no longer on my mouth until he was shoving a rag in my mouth. It wouldn't have mattered, really, I was too terrified to scream. I just kept thinking, maybe if I do what he wants he'll let me go. Maybe he won't kill me.

He was standing above me as I was sitting on the bench, holding my arms above my head with one hand. I heard a click, and then felt metal against the top of my chest. I guessed it was a knife, or scissors. The metal started at the top of tank top, then ripped down forcefully. A knife, then. And he knew how to use it.

Two more cuts at my shoulders and then my tank top was gone, lying on the bench next to me. I still couldn't see anything, but I could feel his eyes on my chest as I sat there with no top other than my cloth bra. He put the knife to my chest again, this time cutting my bra off.

I thought he was finished, but then he pressed the tip of the blade to my nipples. I could feel them hardening from the cold metal as my heart pumped faster. I thought he was going to cut me, but he just kept tracing circles around the tips of my breasts slowly. It was driving me crazy.

I didn't know what was going on. Why did I feel like this? I could feel myself getting wet from this harsh treatment. I'd never had sex before. I'd barely even had one boyfriend, but he had shown me his cock before. I even felt it. But no one had ever seen me naked. I was too shy to let my boyfriend see my breasts, much less any other part of my body. Yet, I knew this guy was going to see all of me, and probably do more than look.

My thoughts were jerked back to the present as he started un-buttoning my shorts. After they were undone he told me to lift my hips up. I did, and he released my wrists in order to pull down my shorts, down past my ankles and over my feet. The flip-flops I had been wearing had fallen off when he first pushed me down on the bench.

As soon as he released me, I gratefully put my arms down in front of me, but they didn't stay there for long. He pressed the knife to my cheek and told me to put my arms back up. Up they went, held above my head by my own accord. I knew my breasts were jutting out with me sitting like this, but I was silently hoping that if he got a good enough view, then maybe he wouldn't want to do anything else.

I was wearing plain underwear, nothing special, just some bikini briefs decorated in some kind of flowers, or animals, or something like that. I thought they were cute, and I had no need of anyone else to see them or give their opinion. They didn't last long. They were shredded like my bra and shirt. I vaguely wondered why he didn't cut up my shorts. I never found out.

So there I was, sitting on a stone bench in the middle of my college campus at roughly 1:30 in the morning, hidden by bushes, completely naked with a guy I didn't know holding a knife, wanting to do God knows what to me.

I felt more cloth on my face, a strip sliding down to cover my eyes. I thought to myself, why in the world would I need a blindfold? I couldn't see anything as it was. Then I heard a soft click, and saw light filtered through the blindfold. He had a flashlight. Of course. Did this guy plan something like this? I didn't get the chance to wonder long.

He started touching me. He started by spreading my legs apart. No one had ever touched me there, besides myself. I had tried watching porn sometimes, wanting to figure out what the big deal was, but it didn't do much for me. I had only masturbated once or twice, but I didn't think I was very good at it. It didn't feel as good as I thought it should have.

His hands left my legs and traveled to my sides, just below my ribs. I jumped from the contact, his fingers tickling me. He chuckled again as his hands traveled up, grabbing my breasts, kneading them, pulling on my nipples.

I moaned through my gag. I couldn't help myself! I didn't know it was possible to feel this way in this kind of situation. It hurt, but it felt wonderful! I didn't want him to stop, but soon he did. He wasn't touching me anymore, and I didn't know where he was.

Then I felt a light breeze blowing on my pussy. He was blowing on me! He laughed then, an outright laugh, and his fingers invaded me. My body was betraying me. He could feel how wet I was. Even I knew I was turned on, I, who had no sexual experience.

I could feel his digits inside me, and I was on the verge of tears when he stuck his mouth over my clit, his fingers still pumping in and out, forcefully now. I moaned louder. It felt so wonderful. I didn't want him to stop. But he was raping me... but it felt amazing...

Suddenly he stopped. I actually whimpered, though I don't think he could hear me through the gag. He ripped the gag off, and I could feel his cock trying to push in between my lips. I vaguely wondered when he had taken his clothes off - or if they had ever been on.

He started fucking my face, not letting me lick him or anything like that, he just shoved his cock deeper and deeper down my throat. I was trying desperately not to gag as I felt his balls slapping against my chin, his pubic hairs tickling my nose. He just kept going, and just as I was getting used to it, he stopped again. This was frustrating.

His hands went back to between my legs, forcing them apart. Then his hands were on my knees - pulling them apart. I knew what was coming next, and I was dreading it. I knew this would hurt. I knew he was about to really rape me, to take my virginity, and I was terrified.

I froze, anticipating the attack. And then he was inside me. Ripping me apart, stretching me. He grunted and I screamed, the sound muffled by the cloth as I bit down. And then the pain was over, replaced by just a dull ache. Eventually I got accustomed to his rhythm, and started moving into him.

I forgot where I was. I forgot what was going on. I simply got lost in the physical, guttural feeling of being fucked. Before I knew it, he was breathing harder, leaning closer to me. He grunted, and then I felt something warm shooting inside me. He kept pumping, getting slower, until he finally slipped out of me.

He untied my hands, which by this time had fallen in front of me, and pulled me to my feet. I think he must have down something else to me, because I don't remember much after that.

I woke up at 4 o'clock the next afternoon. I had completely missed all my classes for the day. At first I thought the events of the previous night were just a dream, but as soon as I tried to get out of bed I knew it was true. I was so incredibly sore.

I was raped, and I enjoyed it. What happened to me?