The Store Room Floor - Sex Stories

The Store Room Floor

... rapist’s penis as he forced it into her. Her vaginal walls were constricted in fear, a fact that only made the sensation of his entering her all the more intense. Marcela made the whimpering sounds of an injured rabbit as her rapist began fucking her. None of her fierce fighter’s resistance remained as the man shoved his arms under her legs and lifted them high into the air as he fucked her. Her Army Ranger father had taught her well, but evidently not well enough. As result, she now found herself stripped naked on the store room floor of her clothing boutique, her pussy filled with the cock of a ravenous rapist who had been able to beat the crap out of her and was now fucking the crap out of her. His fingers ground into the flesh of her ample breasts as he did so, massaging them, making the nipples harden to attention against their will. With her legs forced upward toward the ceiling of the store room, her feet wiggled in the air with each vigorous inward thrust that she received. While fucking her, the man took his hands off her breasts long enough to push the young woman’s ripped blouse off her shoulder, down her arms and off. Only her bra remained, but he so much liked the way it looked wrapped around her neck, together with a thin gold neckless and pendant—a tiny gold Christian cross—that he decided to leave it there. Something about it made his cock even stiffer. The little gold cross was a turn on, too. When her rapist came, it was in buckets, and Marcela was acutely ...

... aware of it. He ceased his fucking thrusts at the first throb of ejaculation. His dick was buried so far inside her—as deep as anatomically possible—that she keenly felt his sperm bathe the deepest recesses of her womanhood in squirt after squirt after squirt. Her rage at being raped had taken her beyond crying during the several long minutes of forced intercourse. The only sounds she made while being fucked where the little rabbit noises, as well as deep grunts whenever one of her rapist’s inward thrusts was particularly deep and/or forceful. But now that he was finished with her, and his body collapsed in exhaustion on top of her, crushing her with its weight, the tears flowed anew. “Look at this, sweetie!” he hissed. It had been fifteen or twenty minutes since Marcela’s rapist had ejaculated inside her. Over this period of time, both their naked bodies lay motionless on the store room floor, his atop hers in sexual exhaustion, hers beneath his in beaten defeat. He lay heavily upon her. She wanted desperately to push him off her, but could not muster the necessary strength. Instead she was forced to lie there, feeling his body, his sweaty skin against her sweaty skin. Feeling him still inside her. Somehow this was more disturbing to her than when he was actively fucking her. When she felt his now limp penis slide from her pussy, and with it an amazing amount of semen flow onto her thighs, she felt like vomiting. At last the man stirred. He lifted himself off his victim. He ...