A Predator Like Me
Copyright© 2026 by Tom Garb
Chapter 10
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 10 - Neil wasn’t really a rapist. Not like Vivian and her “art.” He was an opportunist who spread pleasure. She came from traumatizing her victims. Vivian was an intriguing woman that Neil had to have, even if it meant reshaping himself in her image – and forcing her to take his cock in her lesbian cunt. She fought him every step of the way to becoming his fucktoy… until she didn’t. Amidst their struggle, each faced a loneliness they’d been trying to ignore, and the solution staring them in the face.
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mind Control Heterosexual Fiction MaleDom Humiliation Rough Black Female White Male Oral Sex Foot Fetish
Vivian was no longer resisting. She wasn’t fighting, she wasn’t begging. She was just lying there, her body trembling, her eyes unfocused and half-closed, sharp chin quavering, waiting for the inevitable.
Neil pushed into her, and Vivian mewled, a high-pitched sound of pain and surprise and humiliation. Her cunt was incredibly tight, a hot, slick, velvety vise squeezing his cock. He held himself there for a moment, savoring the feel of her, the sight of her face, her slack-jawed expression of shock, her tears, the utter desolation in her dark, intelligent eyes. Then he started to move. She whimpered with each invasion. She stared up at the ceiling, her body rocking with the force of his thrusts, a silent, broken toy. Her cunt drooled around his cock, slick from her own pain and shame, but she was a passive participant, a hole for him to fuck.
“Look at me, cunt,” he commanded.
Her eyes slowly focused on his face, and the humiliation of being forced to meet the gaze of the man who was raping her was too much. She closed her eyes, her chin trembling, a fresh wave of tears streaming down her cheeks. He drove into her, hard enough to scoot her body backwards on the carpet. She grunted, and her eyes snapped open again. He grabbed her chin. Her eyes were wide with terror, and he could feel her cunt clenching around his cock despite her best efforts to remain limp and unresponsive. “I said look at me,” he said again. “Don’t you dare look away from me while I’m using you. I own this body, Viv. This is your life now. What you are. My property. My whore. My personal lesbian rape-doll.”
He let go of her chin and grabbed her tit, squeezing hard, and she cried out again. She stared up at him, miserable, her body rocking with the force of his thrusts. Her cunt was hot and tight and wet, and her silent suffering was delicious. This destruction of her self was what she had asked for, and he always delivered on his promises.
“How does it feel, cunt?” he asked. “Having a cock inside you for the first time?”
“It feels good, you disgusting bastard,” Vivian sobbed. “I fucking hate you so much. Oh, God, I fucking hate you.”
Neil laughed. “I know you do, Viv,” he said. “I know.” He drove into her, and her hips rose to meet his thrusts even as she sobbed and begged him to stop. Her body knew what it was for, and it was responding even as her mind recoiled in horror and shame. “Your cunt knows its purpose, even if your twisted little dyke brain is still trying to fight it.”
“I’m getting close,” she sobbed. “Oh, God, I’m going to cum from being fucking raped. I’m such a disgusting, pathetic, worthless cunt.”
“Good girl,” he said.
Looking down at her face, her eyes half rolled back in her head, her mouth slack with pleasure and pain, her tears a glistening sheen on her brown skin, Neil was surprised to find that her sharp features had a fragile beauty. She was broken, humiliated, violated, and her plain, angular face was transformed by the agony of it into something more beautiful than any of the objectively pretty women he had ever been with. No, not just her agony was making her beautiful. There was a warm feeling in his chest that was coloring his perception of her.
On an impulse, he leaned down and gently kissed her. Her lips were soft and wet and salty with her tears. He felt a surge of affection for this strange, twisted, brilliant woman who had collaborated with him to make her own rape as psychologically and emotionally devastating as possible.
She responded with hungry passion. Her tongue swirled around his, her arms wrapped around his neck, and her legs locked around his waist and pulled him deeper into her. She embraced him, and with him, the horror, the pain, and the humiliation that were pushing her towards the most intense orgasm of her life.
“I’m going to fucking cum. I’m going to cum on your fucking disgusting cock, you bastard,” she sobbed against his lips. “Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh...”
Neil slowed almost to a stop. He pulled back until only the tip of his cock was still inside her then slowly, slowly slid back in. Her hips bucked and she made a frustrated, strangled sob of thwarted need.
“No...” she whined. “Don’t stop ... please ... I need fucking it ... please, Neil ... please, let me cum.”
“Not yet.” He kissed her forehead, and the warmth spread through his chest again. She was exquisite. She had wanted pain, and he was discovering, to his own surprise, that giving it to her was intensely erotic. He was no longer just performing a role for her benefit. He was enjoying it for its own sake, and because of how beautiful she was when she was suffering.
“I want you to remember this moment, begging me, the man who is raping you, not to stop. You’re going to touch yourself to this memory for years.” He drove into her again, a slow, deep, deliberate thrust that made her gasp. “ He slowly slid into her, then out, teasing her, drawing out the torment. Her hips rocked, trying to set a faster pace, but he held her pinned. “Tell me, when you hurt your subjects and they cry and beg and suffer,” he asked, “what are you thinking about?”
Vivian struggled against the wave of pleasure, her mind trying to form coherent thoughts while her body screamed for release. “I think ... oh god ... I think about how they’ll look when they fucking break,” she gasped. “It’s so fucking hot. The moment they realize they’re just ... objects. Fucking things for me to play with.”
“Are you a thing, Vivian?” he asked.
“Yes,” she sobbed, her body tense with frustration. “If it will get you to let me fucking cum, then I’m a thing. Your thing. I’m just a cunt for you to fuck. Tits and holes and nothing else. Please ... let me cum.”
“Whose tits are these?” he asked, cupping one of her small mounds and pinching the hard, dark nipple.
“Yours,” she cried. “They’re your fucking tits. Please, Neil, I’m so fucking close.”
“And this cunt I’m fucking? Tell me who owns this wet, slutty lesbian cunt.”
“You do,” she sobbed, bucking her hips to try and force him deeper to get more friction. “It’s your fucking cunt. My lesbian cunt is your property, to use whenever you want. Please, I need to cum so bad.”
“Now tell me what you are, Viv,” he commanded. “Not what you have. What you are.”