Chapter 1: Rape
Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, NonConsensual, Rape, Mind Control, Heterosexual, Revenge, FemaleDom, Humiliation, Caution, mc sex story,mc story,master pc sex story.
Desc: Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 1: Rape - This is *NOT* your typical Master PC story. No 44DD's. No bimbo's. Nor is it a stroke story. Alex is a she, and she gets raped. And she gets revenge -- serious revenge. If you're squicked at reading about people getting what they deserve -- including death for those who deserve that -- then don't read Alex's Odyssey. Some BDSM for those 'deserving.' Oh yeah...there's some (regular) sex, too. Don't want to scare anybody off. Just... Caveat Lector.
(Five years ago)
She was a twenty-year-old junior at UFW – the University of Fort Worth – and was walking back to her dorm room from the pool. She was okay looking, not stunningly beautiful and certainly not plain; she had a good figure and she kept it that way by swimming – for exercise, not for any competitive reason. She thought she was 'average, ' considering that she was a bit of a geek. Maybe a little flat in the chest – only a B cup, not like all those C's and D's that men seemed to like – perhaps a bit chunky in the thigh. The list of things she didn't like about her body was not too long. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was pulled into an easy-to-manage pony tail, which she'd threaded through the back of her Dallas Cowboys hat.
Why did football players and teams wear baseball caps? she wondered for perhaps the fiftieth time. Oh well. It was a Saturday night, and once again, she didn't have a date. Didn't particularly want one, if truth be told. She was wearing jeans, a short sleeve UFW sweatshirt and 'walking shoes' – which were simply regular sneakers with an arch support, if you asked her opinion.
It was just after dark in early April, and she took a shortcut through the campus to stop at the coffee shop, where she was planning to get a coffee. She was jumped from behind, a cloth was placed over her mouth and nose, and the last thing she remembered was passing into unconsciousness.
When she awoke, her mouth was taped over and so were her eyelids, so she had no idea where she was. Her hands and feet were similarly bound with tape and she was flat on her back, spread-eagle – she couldn't move at all. She could feel the bare mattress against her skin, so she knew she was probably naked – yes, naked because she couldn't feel any clothes on her at all. She panicked briefly, struggling, trying to get free.
"Good, you're awake," said a male voice. The voice was some distance away. "Now you can enjoy it this time."
She was still instantly, hearing the menace in the voice.
She could feel the mattress depress as he crawled over her. Could feel the stiff prong of his penis against her thigh. Could feel his mouth on her nipple and could feel the hair on his thighs as he plowed her pussy open. She felt every inch as his dick parted her labia. She tried to move her hips from side-to-side as she tried to evade the rape, but he slapped her – hard – across her mouth and cheek, several times.
"Hold still bitch. Maybe if you're real nice, I'll let you go afterwards." His breath smelled like stale beer and garlic.
She wasn't used to getting slapped, and she was very afraid of the implied threat in his words. Implied, shit! He threatened her and she almost peed on herself – and him – in fear but she was held back by the thought that he wouldn't like that much.
She had thought that her first time would hurt. It didn't. She wondered how many times he had raped her while she was unconscious. There was no way to tell.
She decided to stop thrashing in an effort to ensure her survival. She cast her mind about and finally grabbed onto a thought: how would she explain to her parents what had happened. They were from a strict, fundamentalist Baptist background and would no doubt explain to her that it was her fault. That her Godless and immoral ways had brought Satan's retribution to her own doorstep. Her idea of a future didn't exactly coincide with theirs – How's that for an understatement?, she asked herself. Maybe she wouldn't tell them at all. After all, they had disowned her, when at age sixteen, she had – with the help of a local attorney from the ACLU – sued and won her emancipation. Four years later, she was finishing up her third year at UFW, faced with a growing mountain of debt.
No, the small town outside of Lubbock, Texas didn't have much comfort to offer; that line of thought wouldn't keep her mind off of what was happening in this room. She thought about her Senior Project, which she'd already started on. She was a computer science major – one of the school's best – and she'd decided to write a decrypter. More and more programs were being released these days, as machine code only. Some contained code that would decrypt the rest of the program; it would substitute one byte of machine code for another according to an algorithm. Her project would find and use that code to decrypt the program and then render it into human-readable pseudo-code: into C, in other words. She'd work on designing the program that would do that. By the time she was finished with the analysis, she'd be either dead or released somewhere, she figured.
That served to distract her conscious mind from the debauchery that was taking place on her body.
He wasn't doing anything different to her than he had been doing. When he recovered his 'stamina, ' he would mount her in the missionary position, paw painfully at her breasts, tell her that she would really love what he was going to do, and stick it in. He'd grunt and groan and hump at her unmoving form and then – for the tenth time or whatever number it was – he'd deposit some sperm in her vagina. Then he'd 'kiss' her on the duct tape across her mouth and get off. Then he'd do it again in a little while – the time in between was getting longer, she noticed, because she was getting more done on her programming project in the part of her brain that was keeping her sane. Maybe he was coming to the end of his sexual prowess.
Viagra was truly an amazing drug. He'd tried to take a double dose once to enhance the time he could last. That caused him to pass out for several hours – Viagra was initially a blood pressure drug, which he didn't know – and he didn't mess with the dosage after that. One pill was good enough for many hours of fun with 'his girls, ' as he liked to think of them.
But this one wasn't any fun at all. She didn't struggle or squirm or moan or enjoy it; she just laid there like that inflatable sex doll he'd started with. He'd throw her back and get another girl, he decided.
So he injected her with a dose of ketamine, waited a few minutes to be sure she was out, and retied her hands and feet, so she could be moved. Using the lipstick in her purse, he wrote "I'll be back for you another time" on her abdomen. He'd dump her outside the parking lot of the student union on the UFW campus, in the dark hours of the night.
He didn't want any of his swimmers to leak out, because he thought himself a moral man and spilling his seed when the woman was not capable of being bred ran counter to his beliefs – so he ran a couple of courses of duct tape from her navel to her ass. He was sure that she'd appreciate the present he left in her. As it so happened, nature did appreciate it in the way that was biologically intended, even if the woman didn't appreciate it. An egg had just dropped into her fallopian tubes this morning, and by nightfall, she was indeed pregnant.
The rapist was going to a different campus in another town, tonight. He'd look for another athletic blonde of approximately the same size, and take her home to his 'breeding room.' He wanted his progeny to be blonde and athletic.
She was found by a security patrol at 3:22 a.m. The patrol officer took one look at the unconscious, naked woman, taped from eyelid to crotch to ankle and checked if she was alive. She was and was taken immediately to Texas Women's Hospital, which was closest, since it was affiliated with UFW. The ER was fully staffed on a Saturday night – well, Sunday morning, now – and Scott Roberts was the resident on duty.
They carefully removed the tape from the various parts of her body, and Doctor Roberts was actually glad she was unconscious for that. The tape on her eyelids must have been painful to remove, that on her mouth slightly less, and the tape over her pubic mound and pussy would have been excruciating. The patient had obviously been engaged in sexual activity, judging from the inflamed condition of her labia – almost surely a rape, but perhaps not, that was not for him to say. They performed a rape examination and took samples. They took other samples and photos of the message on her abdomen, hooked her up to an IV and left her to sleep. She was obviously drugged – they'd find out from the blood sample – but Roberts was glad that she was alive and apparently not more physically damaged.
Roberts told the campus security officer that she was out and likely would be for several hours. The security officer resumed his patrol. A bit out of the ordinary, but not too much, considering it was a Saturday night, he thought. To say he was jaded by his years on the security patrol was an understatement. The campus police notified the Fort Worth Department of Public Safety, and they called the Texas Rangers – looked like they had another of the Duct Tape Rapist's victims.
The patient awoke Sunday, mid-morning, and looked around. She had a horrible headache and almost threw up from the motion of the room – of course the room wasn't moving, just her head. She looked at the IV coming out of her arm, at the two bags slowly dripping liquid into the tube leading to the needle, then at her hands, which she realized were in restraints. She noticed a woman with a badge around her neck, wearing a suit jacket and blue jeans, sitting in the visitor's chair. She was coffee-and-milk colored, and seemed to be about 40.
The woman looked up from her paperback and said, "Oh, you're awake! Please don't say anything yet. I'll get a nurse." She reached over and pushed the call button.
In a few minutes, a nurse came in, and began taking vital signs and making notes on the patient's chart.
"Am I under arrest?" she asked, and held up her restrained arms.
"Oh no. Mercy. Bless your heart," the nurse pronounced it 'BlessYoreHort.' "We just put them on so's you wouldn't pull out your IV and such. No, no. Not arrested, as far as I know." She cast a glance at the policewoman nearby.
The policewoman said, "No. Certainly not. I'll get your statement in a minute. When you're up to it."
"Can I get something for my headache? Where is this place?" asked the young woman in the hospital bed. "Where am I? What's today?"
"You're in a hospital. Texas Women's in Fort Worth. It's Sunday, April 8th," said the officer. "Do you know who you are?"
"Of course, I do. I'm Alexis Chatris." She pronounced it SHAT-ris. "Alex. Who are you?"
"I'm Detective Shondra Harper, Texas Rangers. Do you know what happened to you?"
"Yeah. I was raped. A dozen or more times."
Ranger Harper started writing in her notebook.
Alex pressed the call button for the nurse. A voice came through the speaker: "Yes?"
"I need a pen and several sheets of paper, please, as soon as you can get them here," Alex said.
"Do you want to write something? Your statement?" asked the Ranger.
"No. I dissociated from the actual rape, to retain my sanity, and I want to write down the stuff I was thinking before I forget it."
"Can we focus on the statement, please, Miss Chatris? It's important."
"It's important to you, I guess. But that doesn't make it important to me. I had a breakthrough, somewhere along the line, there, and I don't want to lose it."
A different nurse bustled in with a pad of quarter inch graph paper and a pen. "Is this all right?"
"Perfect," said the patient. She began to draw boxes and diamonds and lines on the graph paper, quickly.
"Miss Chatris? Can we —" the Ranger began.
But Alex interrupted her. She continued drawing on the pad, talking between symbols on the paper. "Is ... your investigation ... going ... to be ... seriously ... delayed ... if you ... give me ... ten minutes?" She flipped to a new page.
"Well no," Harper admitted.
She flipped the pad sideways and started filling the page with words and symbols and letters that a programmer would recognize as hexadecimal pairs. When that was finished, she drew a big box around it, then drew an arrow coming out the bottom of the box and wrote 'RETURN.'
"Now," Alex said, "I can talk to you. What do you want to know?"
"Alex, you are the seventh woman in the Houston-Austin-DFW-area triangle to be released and found with silver duct tape bindings. The others were raped also. You are the only one to be 'sealed' with duct tape over your genital area and with a message. Can you tell me anything about your assailant? Was there more than one? Why the extra duct tape? Anything at all. Please."
Alex closed her eyes. "SHIT!" was all she said for long minutes. And then, "Can you close the door please?"
When Harper did so, Alex said, "I'm probably pregnant!" She said it with an urgency that underscored her words. "Do you know what that means? I'll lose my scholarship, won't be able to graduate next year, won't be able to do graduate studies after that. I'll be cut off from the stipend. I'll be out on the street. All because some asshole rapist ... ARRRRRGH!" She began to hit her fist on the bed.
"Calm down, Miss Chatris."
"Alex, call me Alex."
"Okay. Alex. There are ways to deal with this. You can place the child for adoption, you can –" began the Ranger.
"Excuse me, but I don't want to take advice from a State Policewoman about what to do with a rapist's fetus in MY body. I was a virgin yesterday morning! I don't have that any more. He took that from me! I don't even know if I have an STD. So, not only NO, but HELL NO!" Alex was wound up tighter than a top. "Here in the great state of Old Men Know What's Best for a Woman, I'm fucked again! Did you see that bill that passed in the last session of the legislature... ?" Her voice ran down, but she kept pounding on the bed beside her, and tears were running down her face.
After a few moments, the adrenaline ran down and she shuddered. "Okay. Okay. You want to know about the crime, right?" Alex said in a more reasonable tone. "Okay. He put a rag over my nose and mouth when I was on my way to the coffee shop. I don't remember anything else until sometime later.
"My eyes were taped over. My mouth, too. I was strapped to a bed. It was a single bed. I only heard one man. Sounded white, but who knows? He was a little shorter than me. I'm five-nine", and when his prick was in me, I don't think he was significantly taller. He'd say horrible things like: 'This time you're going to love it' or 'I'm going to fuck a baby in you' or 'Here it comes bitch.' Shit like that. Mostly he was telling me that I was going to love it. I stopped listening after I went to my study. That's a room I created in my mind where I could concentrate on other things. It was better there, but I still knew what was going on.
"He must have done it more than ten times, plus I know he did it before I woke up, because I knew I wasn't a virgin by then ... Oh. And he smelled of stale beer and garlic ... For what that's worth."
Ranger Harper was busily scribbling in her notebook. "Okay. Good. I mean ... you have good powers of observation. I know it was a horrible experience –"
Alex interrupted again. "You know? You know? How? Were you raped too?" she glared at Harper.
That flustered the Texas Ranger. "I mean, that sounds like a terrible experience. What about the tape and the message?"
"I don't know anything about them. He gave me a shot in the neck with some sort of needle. I thought, honestly, that I was going to die ... Um. What's this about a message?"
Harper said, "He wrote it in lipstick on your abdomen. It said 'I'll be back for you another time.'"
"WHAT?!" She screamed at Harper. "He wrote WHAT?" She covered her hands and started to shake. She ripped off the hospital gown and looked at her belly. It was clean. "On me? He wrote that?" She started to look around frantically. "Clothes. Where are my clothes? I have to get out of here."
Harper came to stand by her. "You don't have anything here. You were naked when security picked you up. There's an officer at your dorm room, in case he comes after you again. You're okay. You're safe here. You shouldn't go anywhere."
"Oh," said Alex, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm safe here. Apparently, he's done this at least six times previously. You haven't caught him. Exactly why am I safe? He's never left a 'see you later, honey' message on anybody else. But I'm safe? Riiiiiiiiight?"
"Miss Chatris. Please. You're safe here now. That's all I meant. We'll find a way to make you safe longer term. But for today – now – it's okay."
Edited by Morgan and B4Lurker