The Story of My Rape

My name is Alessandra. People abbreviate it and call me Aless, which sounds to me like Alice. I hate it when they do that, but that's the least of my problems. Please think of me as Alessandra.

I am in college in New York City. I'm a sophomore, and I have a wonderful boyfriend, Frank. Frank says I'm a sexpot, probably because I have a well-proportioned body, with nice C cup breasts. He likes my breasts a lot; maybe too much sometimes. He always wants me to dress sexily and to emphasize my boobs.

Frank buys sexy bras for me to wear. I wear them to please him. But what he likes best is for me to go without a bra, and to wear a thin top so that my nipples poke at it and it is clear I am without a bra.

He even pushed me a few times to wear a top where you could plainly see my nipples and my areolas through the top. I got a lot of looks from all the college men I ran across that day. I must have spent the entire day blushing. Now I'm used to it, though, and dress like that fairly routinely.

Having beaten down my resistance concerning my boobs, now Frank wants me to wear shorter skirts. When I comply, he wants me to wear even shorter ones. And yes, you guessed it, he wants me to go commando underneath my skirts.

Sometimes I wear very tight skirts, emphasizing every detail of my ass (Frank calls it a bubble ass, but I think it's just an ass, plain and simple). Other times I wear flouncy skirts, but nevertheless short ones. And I'm always commando.

When I wear a flouncy skirt, Frank tries to get me to walk over a grate, and one time a wind gust rising from the grate blew my skirt up, revealing my privates to some people walking on the NY sidewalk.

I keep saying Frank makes me do these things. He doesn't really, you know. I have free will and could say no. But the truth is everything he makes me do makes me wet. It's all very erotic for me. I like having him order me around.

Back in my room, I often wear a transparent robe over my naked body when I'm expecting Frank. The night of my rape that is how I was dressed. I heard Frank's knock at the door, and opened it up wide but found it was not Frank. It was the guy down the hall, who was coming over to ask if I knew the reading assignment for our comparative literature class the next day.

I said, "Yes, just a minute Mike, and I'll get it for you." I turned around and bent over looking through my papers for my iPad where I had written the assignment on a note. I was not thinking of it, but I was giving Mike a nice view of my naked ass and my cunt, right through my transparent robe.

I brought the iPad over to Mike and he was staring at my boobs through my robe, and I realized for the first time that I was flashing him, big time. I freaked out and apologized, explaining I thought he was Frank coming over.

Mike made a note of the assignment and then tried to kiss me. He was too slow as I pulled away from him.

"Mike, I'm in love with Frank. I'm sorry I'm dressed this way. It's time..." and that's as far as I got. Mike pushed me down onto the bed. The push was unexpected, and my robe opened as I fell, exposing my legs and my privates to him. He pulled it open more and my entire front was visible.

I screamed at him, and screamed for help, but he hit me so hard I blacked out for a short time. When I awoke from my faint, I realized I was gagged, and my hands were tied together. Mike was naked with a huge erection.

I tried to scream, but only muffled noise emerged from my gag. He was on me so fast I did not have time or the presence of mind to roll away or to kick him in the balls. He stuck his cock into me and lay still. I could feel it throbbing inside me.

He looked at me and he saw defeat in my eyes. He was holding me down with my boobs, and it hurt. I wanted to tell him to stop, to let go of my boobs, please not to rape me, but I was gagged. I tried to plead with my eyes.

He saw my eyes, and he smiled. He started to move his cock. He pushed it in farther and farther, very slowly, taking his time. It was a power move: He could rape me at his leisure; he had total control. Then he began to pump his cock in and out, in and out. I was crying.

He began to really fuck me. He started to pound me and he varied it, too, sometimes screwing me, sometimes nailing me. He lifted my legs in the air exposing my cunt and asshole to him and fucked me hard, penetrating deeply. He lasted a long time.

I was crying, trying to tell him to stop, but of course I was gagged. It was a rape, but a fuck is a fuck and my goddamned body responded to it. My cunt lubricated, and I began to feel it build. I could not believe that my body would betray me like this, but I actually came during the rape.

I could not enjoy it, but Mike knew I had cum, and he smiled at me. I tried to send him poison darts with my eyes, but he was oblivious, or just did not care. He shot his load deep into me and there was nothing I could do about it.

"You deserved that, you slut," he said. "You parade around all over the place tempting men with your dynamite body. Finally I have paid you back now for all of your teasing. I'm glad you enjoyed it, too. God, you're a slut. A cheap, no good slut."

I was still crying and whimpering on the bed, still with my hands tied and my gag on, and my robe open. My engorged and red cunt was open and oozing his cum. He had squirted a large amount of it into me. He got his cell phone and snapped a picture of me like that, when my legs were still apart.

Mike said, "I should take you a second time, but I'll let Frank have sloppy seconds. Tell him, by the way, I have a gun. Nobody messes with me. Frank should know that."

After the rape, I lost the ability to be intimate with a man. I never told a soul about the rape, I was so ashamed. I constantly thought I could have avoided the rape if only I had not opened the door dressed only in my robe, naked underneath; if only I had not let Frank surprise me; if only I had resisted faster and stronger and quickly kicked him in the balls when I had the chance; if only...

Frank and I broke up. He never did understand why I stopped wanting to have sex with him, why I had suddenly become frigid. I dressed conservatively, de-emphasizing my womanly assets, considerable though they may be. It was four years before I kissed a man again. That man was Alexander.

That's how we met. When a friend learned my name was Alessandra, she just had to introduce me to Alexander, since he had the male version of my name. We clicked right away. He asked me to the movies Saturday night, and I said yes.

I did not know what to wear. I decided to dress like it was the old days. I wore a see through top and no bra, and a short tight skirt with no panties. Alexander would either be shocked and have nothing to do with me, or he would be entranced. I had no idea which. My intuition failed me.

It turned out Alexander was indeed shocked. He was not expecting this lovely seemingly conservative woman he asked out to show up dressed like a tramp waiting to be fucked. But he dealt with it. We went into the movies, and in the lobby a lot of men were checking me out, especially my nipples and areolas and the shape of my boobs through the blouse.

Just like when I dressed this way to please Frank, I really enjoyed the attention I would get from other men, the lust in their eyes. I guess I am a natural exhibitionist tease.

Alexander put his arm around me to show everyone I was with him. Men do that instinctively when other men are lusting for their women. I loved it since to me it meant that Alexander wanted to possess me. I so longed to be possessed.

I stood on my toes and gave his cheek a little kiss. I forgot to tell you: I am fairly short, and Alexander is on the tall side. We sat in the back row of the theater, and once the movie started, Alexander picked me up and placed me down on his lap. I giggled.

Next he took my blouse, and pushed it up over my boobs, exposing them in the theater. He said to me, "I just had to see if your breasts are as lovely as they promised to be."

"Well," I said while pushing my blouse back down, "are they?" and I giggled some more.

"Yes, they are. You are quite a girl, Alessandra," Mike said, as he leaned forward and kissed me on the mouth. That was my first kiss since the rape. I shivered. I suddenly felt cold, as if all my blood had drained from my body.

I was determined, however, and after the movie Alexander took me out for a nice dinner down in SoHo, and then he took me to my home in Brooklyn, where I live. He walked me to my door.

I really wanted to see if I could fuck a man. I was truly not sure that I could. He kissed me at my door, and then he stuck his hand under my skirt. At that point I asked him please to come inside for a nightcap. He ignored me and his hand found my cunt. I think my lack of panties really surprised him.

His hand felt good! I was so excited. A man was feeling my cunt under my skirt and it felt good! This was like a dream come true: my long desert of frigidity was over. I was much too excited. Poor Alexander must have thought he was working magic on me with his fingers, with my over the top reaction of joy. But then, in some sense it was magic.

Again I asked him in for a nightcap. When I reached up for the Scotch, he pushed my tight skirt up to my waist, exposing my privates below. Then he took off my blouse, and pushed my skirt back down, unzipped it, and took it off. I was now naked in my kitchen.

I don't have curtains. I don't have the money to buy nice ones, and I refuse to use cheap ones. So when I'm naked in the apartment, neighbors can see me in my glory. Consequently I am only naked in my bedroom.

But when Alexander paraded me into the living room stark naked, I didn't care. I was just existing on the high from the release of the prison of frigidity. He removed his pants and his briefs, and he bent me over my table, and just like that he stuck his cock into me, taking me from behind.

It felt good! I liked it! I was enjoying it! As he began to fuck me I moaned loudly to encourage him. I pushed back at him and began to say, "Alexander, fuck me hard and fuck me deep and give me all you have. I want it all. I need it all." He began to fuck me frantically.

I reached under myself and began to finger my clit while he fucked me. He pushed my hand away and fingered my clit with his own hand. I liked this guy. I could feel the veins sticking out from his cock as he fucked me; I did not know such it was possible to feel such things. He had an enormously thick cock, which may be why. Anyway, I liked it.

When I came I yelled out a scream of pleasure that probably woke the neighbors. Shortly after that he shot his load deep inside me. I took him to the bedroom with me, and I took his flaccid cock into my mouth and I used every trick I knew to nurse his cock back to a nice, hard erect state. When it was there, I told him to fuck me again, anywhere he wanted, in any hole he wanted, in any position he wanted.

"I'm yours," I said, "Do with me as you please."

And that's exactly what he did. After that wonderful date, I never saw him romantically again. My girlfriend, the one who introduced us, told me Alexander thought I was too wild for him. Translated: He thought I was a slut, a tramp. Yet he was only the third man I had ever had sex with, unless you count my rapist. I don't.

But I did not care. He had thawed the ice mountain. I was still young, pretty, and ready for sex again. And New York City has lots of men. It has literally millions of men. I only needed a few of them. I figured it would be child's play to find a man. It was. It's harder, however, to find a good man.

Let me know if you know of one, okay?