Warning: Rapists Will Be Raped!
Chapter 1

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Rape, Heterosexual, Fiction, Humiliation,

Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - When 14-year old Satin Simmons was raped in a Northeastern Virginia University frat house, she didn't call the police. She didn't alert NVU administrators. She called her mother, Kathy. As the renowned philosopher, A. Bunker said, "Revenge is the best way to get even."

Satin Simmons hadn't even wanted to go to the kegger. She didn't like the taste of beer that much. She'd been to a few and had had her fill of watching boys rush to the sink to hurl. She didn't mind an occasional drunken tongue thrust in her mouth and she usually put up with some light groping without protesting. She was 14, but experienced.

But Satin's cousin Jenny -- talk about a slut -- nagged her into going. Jenny didn't want to go to the PKP party by herself. Although she never remained alone for very long.

The two frat brats who grabbed Satin, covered her mouth with a huge hand, and carried her up the back stairway weren't jocks, although they were large enough to pass for football players. They raped her brutally, drunkenly, repeatedly.

The two oafs, as subtle as cement mixers, first tried to get Satin drunk with a too-sweet punch served in those ubiquitous red plastic cups. When she just sipped at the heavily laced drink, they tried to sneak something -- probably roofies or Special K -- into the cup.

Satin gave them her best fuck-you glare and emptied her cup into the kitchen sink.

That's when -- drunk, enraged, drunk, stupid -- they grabbed her and force-carried her upstairs to one of the dozens of bedrooms. Satin never stopped fighting, she got one of the fuckers in the eye and kneed the other in the balls. She was about as effective as a gnat against their bulk and strength.

The one good thing about the rape -- the only good thing -- was that Satin's mother, Kathy, had put Satin on the Pill some time ago. Kathy had recognized the signs, Satin was going to follow in her mother's footsteps. They both enjoyed sex, even loved it when they found the right guy. And they were always looking, testing, enjoying.

The mother and daughter were unusually close -- Kathy had been open about her sex life for as long as Satin could remember. Kathy was startled the first time she looked up and saw her little girl watching her fucking the latest 'friend.' Kathy made a shooing motion with the back of her hand and Satin left, as quietly as she'd come in.

That night at dinner, Kathy had The Talk with Satin. It was the first of dozens of very open, very frank discussions between the two of them.

Eventually Kathy stopped shooing Satin away. Fuck, let her watch, she was curious.

Kathy, 28 years old, refused every marriage proposal that came her way, especially from the married lobbyist who had gotten her pregnant. She was in what she mentally referred to as her high school phase. She preferred fucking young teenagers despite their lack of experience and talent. She told Satin, "I can teach them how to fuck. What they bring to the party is enthusiasm. Energy. Hunger. Gratefulness." Kathy smiled at her daughter, "Quick recovery times."

For something self-referred to as a 'phase, ' the teenagers, had been coming to Kathy's bed for years.

Kathy and Satin Simmons looked like a mother and daughter. Or sisters. Both were slender with perky little boobs. Up tilted. Satin's butt was starting to become a little more prominent, just like her mother. Kathy considered her butt her best feature. Or, her sexiest feature anyway.

Both Kathy and Satin had dark brown hair in a pixie cut and full mouths with teeth that didn't need whitening. There was that intangible something about each of them that hinted at good times. Good times just around the corner. They didn't exude sex, but no one who spent even a little time with either of them had the slightest doubt that they were with a girl who liked to party.

Kathy, despite her hardscrabble start in Appalachian West Virginia, in the heart of coal country, had studied hard, had trained herself to look, talk, and act like the upper middle class Fairfax County mother she now was.

When she was five years old, being raised by a mostly indifferent single mother, Kathy started paying attention to what she saw around her. Beat-up pickup trucks, dusty roads, skinny, thick wristed men with missing fingers from working underneath the rocky terrain. Uneducated hillbillies, domestic violence, snuff, hootch, and hand-rolled cigarettes everywhere. Country music that echoed dreary lives. Jail time. Meth.

By the age of eight, Kathy thought: Leave.

The one good thing about growing up in rural West Virginia: sex.

Kathy learned early on that not only was she good at pleasing men, she enjoyed it. In fact, really enjoyed it. Later in life she learned that a lot of women faked it, pretended to love fucking more than they did. Nothing fake about Kathy.

Kathy was offered scholarships to several colleges. She chose Northeastern Virginia University over the Ivies because she felt she'd be able to stand out easier and more quickly. Plus, the campus was gorgeous, some of the majestic trees looked as old as the school -- over 200 years.

Kathy, smart without quite being brilliant, aced her studies because she was driven. Driven by ambition. And fear, fear that deep down she wasn't good enough, that she really belonged back in Appalachia.

Kathy also aced the bar exam and went to work for the Fairfax County DA's office. After three years she switched to the money side, working as a defense attorney. She was licensed to practice in Virginia, DC, Maryland and Delaware. Not West Virginia.

Kathy, working now as a trial lawyer, had a streak of ferocity in her whenever she argued in court. Her winning percentage was one of the highest in the state. She hated to lose and threw everything she had into the fight. She took it personally. Not a good idea for most professionals, but it fueled the fire, the hunger, that raged within her once she stepped inside a courtroom.

Satin lay on a fraternity bed, naked, sore, humiliated. But, most of all, furious. The two rapists went back downstairs to the party to bring some of their friends back up for some free pussy. Satin found her purse, called her mother. She didn't bother with her torn clothes, just grabbed her purse and climbed down a trellis naked.

Kathy drove Satin directly to a friend's home, a nurse whom Kathy had worked with on another rape case. Back when she was a prosecutor. The nurse didn't say a word when she answered her apartment door at 2 in the morning. She just took the naked little girl in her arms and hugged her.

Satin hadn't cried during the rape and wouldn't allow herself to now.

Her pussy was bruised, swollen, red, but no permanent damage had been done. DNA evidence -- semen, skin under Satin's fingernails, strands of hair -- was gathered, labeled, and saved.

Satin fell asleep in her mother's arms, the first time since she was a toddler.

Kathy stayed home from work the next day. She told Satin, "I'm not going to have them killed, although I'm tempted. But I'm going to fuck them up. Then I'm going to fuck their families up. I'm going to ruin them."


A week later Satin's physical appearance was back to normal. The soreness and swelling in her pussy had dissipated. Still, Kathy had the nurse examine her one more time. The nurse traced a finger along Satin's little pussy, smiled at Kathy, and said, "Good to go."

Kathy grinned at her daughter, "You should get back in the saddle. Who's your favorite boyfriend these days?"

"Jack. Maybe Asswipe. When he shuts his mouth." Satin shrugged, "Or Pete. Billy maybe."

"Well, pick one. I'll drop you off for the night. Or I'll lend you one of mine, they all have the hots for you."

"Thanks, Mom. I'll call Asswipe, I haven't had done him for a while, he's been after me."

The nurse said, "I didn't file a police report, Kathy, I assumed you wouldn't want me to."

"Fuck the police. Those two cocksuckers are going to wish I'd called the police."

"Good luck."

The posters, over 300 of them, appeared overnight, all over the NVU campus:

WARNING: Rapists will be raped!

They were professionally printed -- red letters on beige cover stock. Although campus authorities had them torn down and destroyed, the posters caused a long overdue conversation to begin.

Many female students, and a few teachers, thought: about time.

Kathy didn't care about starting a campus crusade, she didn't care about other girls who might have been date raped. Or just plain raped. She didn't care about editorials and columns and letters in the university and town papers.

Kathy cared about one thing: revenge.

Satin remembered that the two frat boys called each other Brent and Jockstrap. Maybe Brant. No, Brent. Kathy had them identified by one of her office's freelance investigators before the DNA results were back from the District Attorney's office where she had started her legal career. The DNA turned out to merely confirm what Kathy and Satin now already knew -- who Brent and Jockstrap were.

Even though legal prosecution was the last thing Kathy was planning to do, she saved the physical evidence and the nurse's affidavit. Just in case.

One night, sharing a bottle of wine with her daughter, Kathy said, "Describe Brent and Jockstrap."

"Over 6', both of them. Over 200 pounds, I'd guess. Brent has light brown hair, cut short. Jockstrap is a redhead. Natural. Broad chested, both. Jockstrap has the start of a pot belly."


Satin nodded. "Brent's cock is kind of long, 7 or 8 inches, but skinny, really skinny. Jockstrap is fatter, but short, under 6 inches."

"They're going to learn what a big cock is. Several big cocks."


Satin came by her size estimates honestly. Beside being sexually active she had seen dozens of her mother's boyfriends -- naked men and boys -- in the kitchen, in the bathroom, living room, bedrooms. Literally dozens of them. One Saturday morning, her mother overheard Satin telling a girlfriend, "Jeffery has the biggest cock I've ever seen."

Kathy smiled to herself, Satin was observant. But she still sat her daughter down and explained the need for discretion. That occasion was the first of a lifetime of shared secrets between them.

Growing up, Satin wasn't exposed to naked men on a daily basis. Not even every week. Her mother had a demanding career and worked long hours, especially when a court appearance was on the horizon.

Kathy, despite some pointed urging, wouldn't let any of her boyfriends touch Satin, let alone fuck her. Satin did become adept at flirting with the friendlier ones, a talent that would be useful for the rest of her life.

Sometimes Satin stayed to watch her mother fuck them, sometimes she didn't.

After Kathy gave Satin permission to give up her cherry, Kathy noticed the irony a couple of months later: Kathy's lovers were often younger than her daughter's. Kathy told her best friend, a fellow attorney named Susan, "I know its ass backwards, but it seems to work for Satin and me."

"When are you going to start giving them the mother-daughter treatment in bed?"

Kathy laughed, "Some of them would love that, but I refuse to be a cliche."

Kathy and Satin respected each other's privacy, their bedrooms were on opposite ends of the second floor. Once Satin began inviting her lovers home, Kathy added a bath to Satin's bedroom. More convenient.

Although when boys stayed overnight, both Kathy and Satin encouraged them to stay nude when they went down for breakfast. Both of them enjoyed eyeballing each other's new lovers. Satin's appraising eye was just as frank as her mother's.

While Kathy did occasionally pick up a boy younger than Satin, she never brought one home who attended Satin's school. That could be embarrassing.

Kathy generally dumped her current boyfriend when she picked out a new one. Satin usually had 5 or 6 -- one at a time, with a couple of exceptions -- available with a phone call. She told her mother, "I'm too lazy to keep picking up new men."

Kathy shrugged, "I'm not."

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Story tagged with:
Rape / Heterosexual / Fiction / Humiliation /