Rape Read online

My hand was damp on the warmth of the wheel as I swerved the car to an accurate halt beside her. She raised her hand to her eyes, squinting against the sun, and her breasts were full, impudently poised under the silk blouse. I was going anywhere she was going.

  I snapped open the door with a warm smile and asked the formal, unnecessary question. For a fraction of a second, almost imperceptible, she surveyed me before her smile of response.

  "I want to get to London before it gets dark," she said, in a quiet, well-spoken voice. "If you could take me some of the way I'd be grateful."

  "Jump in. You're in luck-I'm going all the way."

  With her rucksack safely on the back seat, she relaxed beside me, brushing a drooping black curl from a young, determined face, flushed with a day's tan.

  "I'm certainly glad you came along," she said, eyes alight with pleasure at the sudden, comfortable speed after a three-mile-an-hour tramp. "I'd begun to feel a real mad Englishwoman out in the noonday sun."

  The very sound of her voice excited me and with the whisky spreading an animal urgency throughout my fibres, I encouraged her to talk, wondering if she could tell I'd been drinking.

  From time to time I smiled down at her attractive, slightly haughty face, in which the bright blue eyes seemed sometimes a little brightly nervous. She abounded with the superficial self-confidence of an intelligent, welleducated girl of nineteen or so, whose "according to the best principles" upbringing, had made her a little unsure of the world beyond. She was undoubtedly, I decided, a virgin.

  Uncertain of the impression she gave, she felt bound to explain that she didn't make a habit of hitchhiking. It was a wager. The girls at her college had bet her she hadn't the pluck to return from her country home in that way. She normally travelled by car or first class.

  "Daddy would be furious if he knew," she explained, "But thanks to you it's going to be easier than I imagined."

  I pictured her father for a moment. Stern, military type man. But that only whetted my appetite.

  "Weren't you a bit scared about travelling this way alone?" I asked. And, ridiculously unable to help myself, I found my eyes drawn down momentarily to the taut outline of her breast under the thin blouse.

  "I was a little," she admitted, with an embarrassed smile, "but so many girls seem to think nothing of it that I decided I was being ridiculous."

  I smiled, and as I changed the gears for a hill, the smile half set on my face, for my hand brushed gently against the crook of her knee, the soft, warm skin. The constriction in my loins spread to my face in a warm flush and my hand lingered.

  Even then I was unsure. Being sensitive to sexual situations I like to avoid false, or clumsy moves and this was obviously one of those occasions which called for slow persuasion, perhaps, even, mellowing in drink. But the girl sealed her own fate. Murmuring something about cigarettes, she leaned over the back of the seat for her rucksack. It was a long lean and as, kneeling, she stretched over the seatback, I reached my hand under her body to steady her. Accidentally-or did I only imagine it to be accidental?-my hand cupped under her breast. I felt the warmth of contact, the firmness of her flesh through the flimsy blouse and brassiere beneath and turned with one hand on the wheel. With the skirt stretched tighter than ever over the enclosing briefs, I could see the lines of her slender hips, her well-shaped bottom, as if she were naked. More exciting than that. The day's heat seemed to fill my loins and constriction rose from it into my chest.

  "All right?" I asked with simulated concern as she slumped back into the seat. I kept my arm around her, fingers lightly touching the firm jut of her underbreast.

  "Uh-huh."

  She didn't know quite how to deal with this situation, whether to be offended. But she was afraid of being offended without real cause, of appearing ridiculous. She searched in the rucksack as my fingers brushed over her nipple, a sharper jut from the breast, even through the clothing. I didn't care now. I felt a heat of drink and determination, which produced in my face a cynical grin of desire.

  "Afraid I don't smoke," I said. "I've neither cigarettes nor matches."

  "It doesn't matter." She was slightly flushed and I could feel her heart thumping under my hand.

  The whisky had diminished my subtlety of approach, or rather made it from my point of view, unnecessary and I moved my hand firmly over her breast, my hips and loins an inferno of yearning.

  "Please!" she said, at last sharply pulling at my hand.

  I grinned at her, keeping my hand firmly in place, kneading her flesh with my fingers. I was slightly amazed at my brutishness, but I couldn't stop myself.

  "I'm afraid you'll find it was false economy not to have got that train," I said, eyes gleaming at her.

  Somewhere in my subconscious was a feeling that the whole thing might have been better staged, but my whole body had now worked up into the heat of an alcoholic fighting against deprivation of his liquor. Nothing could have stopped me.

  It must have shown in my eyes, because the girl looked suddenly frightened. Her face was pale as she tore at my hand again.

  "Oh, stop. You must stop," she begged. Tears came to her eyes and her throat filled with the noises of desperate exertion as I held her strongly in spite of her struggles.

  There was no stopping me now. I could hardly wait to get both arms free, and looked about quickly for a place to pull in the car. With the girl struggling furiously, I saw it and swivelled at speed into a narrow lane through a large copse. A right turn at the end of the copse where the lane petered into a black earth track to farm sheds, and we were careening across a couple of fields in a cloud of dust. I jerked to a halt at the back of the copse, out of sight of the main road and surrounded by high, thick cornfields.

  Without a word I wrapped my other arm around her, pinioning her with my judo-tightened muscles and forced back her face with mine. She twisted and writhed, but my mouth closed hard onto her soft lips as I moved the weight of my body half over onto her semi-prostrate form.

  As I deftly ripped open the buttons of her blouse, my inside was screwed up in an unvoiced laughter at her helplessness, a laughter that contained the mute force of my cruel longing. The girl, now, was lost to the days of innocence. I had no thought but to uncover her supple woman's body and enter where nobody had yet entered. Give her the pain and, perhaps, the hated pleasure she had never yet felt..

  "No. No. Please stop." She was screaming continuously as she fought with a fury which would, perhaps, have upset a weaker man. Her ringers jabbed at my face and tore at my hair as I released her with a hand to encircle the warm flesh of her back and whisk her brassiere undone. I knocked her hand away, without effort, and fiercely kneaded her taut, only slightly yielding breasts. Holding her arms in a vice, I slipped my head down to where the pear-shaped fullnesses of firm flesh writhed and jumped with the frantic contortions of her body. My lips closed over the pink, virgin nipples and brushed the skin which felt as smooth as cellophane. She screamed and her head shot back, her body forming a straining arc as I bit her and automatically I clasped my hands over her tightened buttocks and strained her hips towards mine.

  The heat rushed in a spear-like motion to my penis and with a tear at the catch and zip I had snatched off her skirt in a rough, furious movement. Her long, brown legs flailed against me and although her face was hopeless with terror, she seemed to be too exhausted to utter a word or a scream. Her shins grazed the gear lever and deep rose marks appeared on her thighs from compression with the seat.

  With blood pounding in my head and echoing in my genitals, I was aware of the flimsy, part transparent briefs creasing on the smooth, full flesh of her hips; the briefs which showed through her skirt when she walked, a sign to lust. They fitted tightly, failing to hide the dark mass of fine hair at the outward jut which joined her legs.

  I forced a kiss on her again as I tried to prise down her briefs with one hand. But her violent struggles and my overwhelming lust-now an acute pain at my loins-made s
uch a laborious process unpracticable and I simply tore the flimsy garment away from her. It ripped down the side of her hip and then across her abdomen, revealing her, brown, softly firm and naked to me.

  My heart, too, was pounding with the anticipated fulfillment of desire and I moved my hand unsteadily down to the jutting mound of my flies and began to pull the buttons apart. Unconsciously I must have relaxed my grip, for with a movement of sheer desperation, the girl jerked away from me, forcing open the car door and flinging herself into the field almost in a single movement. It was so quick that I was taken completely by surprise and she was out of the car and running along the stubbly edge of the field, close into the copse before I had stumbled from the car after her.

  She fled with desperate speed, her body heaving and gasping, racked with sobs. As I charged after her my eyes reveled in the sight of her brown lower body beneath the short flying blouse: the buttocks rotating like ball-bearings in a covering of skin, the skin drawn smoothly and tautly over the flesh leaving hollows in the two mounds as she ran. My skin burned.

  I had caught her in a trice, half tackling her so that she fell forward on her face. She writhed over in an instant, trying to ward me off and for a moment I was aware of the virgin about to become woman, the blouse half off her, her nakedness somehow girlish and pure.

  Then she was struggling, quite silently, with a new lease of strength and I had my pulsing penis pressed against the flesh of her thighs as I kicked off my trousers. Now was the moment. My penis was a throbbing extremity, filled, it seemed with a long, sharp pain as if it would burst, and I forced her thighs apart with an effort strengthened from an overwhelming fire. She strained back, even put her hands down to my loins in an attempt to prevent the loss of what she would undoubtedly have called her "honour" but the feel of her fingers down there, pushing indiscriminately at whatever part of my genitals presented itself made me lose all control and, in a moment, pushing up, I felt the warmth of tight flesh around the tip of my penis. The girl screamed.

  "Oh, no, no, no. Please, Oh please."

  She pleaded. Her tear-filled eyes beseeched me and then with a brutal thrust I had sunk into her to her accompanying scream of pain and horror.

  A great relief seemed to break over my organ as I felt the contraction of the walls of soft flesh pressing around it. The passage was tight, but easier than I expected, due, no doubt, to my unrestrained initial thrust. I held the girl by her firm upper arms as she sobbed and jerked her body in an effort to escape me and the thick pain I brought. Her legs flailed leaving her vagina eventually wide open from the wide open thighs and I thrust tightly and wonderfully into her. In and in and in, while strangled hoarse sobs and cries were dragged from her throat. I kissed her salt, tear-covered lips as my loins worked and ground into hers, and she turned her head wildly from side to side, still trying to fight me off with her waning strength.

  Disregarding her weakened blows, I moved my hands down under her bottom and grasping a warm, tight buttock with each, raised her loins towards me, thrusting with fresh vigor so that groins mingled with her sobs. Sweat broke out on my forehead as I seemed to push farther and farther into her until our bodies met solidly. It seemed that there was no feeling in my body except there at my penis, the whole of me concentrated into a single pulsing, dazzling, devouring sensation in which that irrelevant-seeming rod of stiff flesh was the medium and which grew with each strong thrust and jerk. Her passage clamped sweetly around me, such a natural complement to my male strength and rigidity.

  She continued to writhe as I leaned up and kissed the tilted, straining breasts and as I felt the familiar tingling deep down in my body, she began to sob afresh, as if she divined the end was near, her face contorted, rather in mental anguish at the terrible, humiliating, degrading thing which had befallen her than in the pain of physical injury.

  My penis began, it seemed, to grow even tauter and more elongated. Somewhere inside the flood was begin ring. My whole body was drenched in sweat and I panted, gasping for breath, thrusting savagely and uncontrollably. I felt the flood sweeping along inner channels to the extreme sweet pain at the extremity of my body. I jerked frantically as the girl screamed and I forced her thighs back against her ribs so that her knees practically touched her breasts and I entered into the very heart of her.

  And then-coming ... coming ... rushing inside me ... sweeping to my penis in a great painful surge; my eyes dilated, I gasped, groaned as the wave seemed to tremble at the tip of my organ, hesitate. I cried out and thrust with a great, enormous, slow grinding movement, and inside her there was the explosion of my penis and she cried out too as the hot liquid shot through me like hot, streaming blood and shattered painfully into her.

  I went on jerking into her until everything subsided and collapsed and then I fell forward onto her warm body.

  Crying quietly and miserably, she pulled away from me and lay face down a couple of feet away in the com, blood drying on her thighs.

  We lay for several minutes with the sun striking down on us, prostrate in the dusty bed of corn and then, slowly, I began to pull on my trousers and dust myself down. I was overcome, as usual, with a sort of remorse. Not for what I had done to the girl. That didn't concern me. But for the dead, flat, indifference it left in me. The usual feeling that I had achieved nothing, that it might as well not have happened. Now that the moment was over I felt its complete lack of importance to me except to make me despair that I was exactly as I was before.

  I climbed tiredly to my feet and looked down at the slim woman, no longer a virgin, lying on her belly, legs spread-eagled, body shaking with the small, silent dregs of sobs. I felt nothing except a realisation that within minutes I could be roused to the same pitch again and so on ad infinitum. "I'll get your clothes," I said.

  She didn't move and I trudged to the car and pulled out her skirt, brassiere and torn briefs, from their tangled disorder on the front seats. I dropped them down beside her and returned again to the car. I climbed in and had a moment's engine trouble. I had intended to back towards the girl and put her in the back seat, but when I looked around she'd disappeared.

  I sat still for a moment, slightly stupefied at this unexpected behavior, then I got quickly from the car and went to the edge of the copse. I peered in through the thick foliage, but could see nothing beyond the gloom and splinters of sunlight. There was no sound; the clothes had gone. I called twice, telling the girl there was no point in hiding, that I'd take her to London. The large mass of trees and shrubbery-a three-quarter mile stretch slanting towards the road, squatted stolid and motionless in the sun, a gloomy refuge.

  I drove onto the road, seeing no sign of the girl on the way, and speeded off towards London.

  Looking back on the incident on the way, although I became freshly aware of the voluptuous details, I also became aware that I had acted extremely foolishly. I ascribed to the aphrodisiac effect of the whisky the fact that I had raped a girl for the first time in my life. I also began to think of the penalties which could be undergone by law for such a grave offence.

  I thought about the girl. Was she even now running to a farmhouse, lying in the copse, waiting for the first vehicle to come along? She'd be pretty chary of vehicles in future, I thought. On the whole I considered myself pretty safe. She was obviously the sort of girl who would hate being involved in such an affair, would hate to bring it up again in any circumstances, would perhaps clean herself up and say nothing about it to anyone. On the other hand, in such an extreme situation she might blurt the whole thing out to the first person who appeared, or, failing that break down and admit it to someone close, perhaps her mother. Anyway I doubted whether she'd have noticed the number of the car or much in the way of details to connect me with the rape.

  Well, I wasn't going to worry unduly about initiating an attractive girl into the ways of the world. And by the time I had reached my studio in Bloomsbury I had put the whole thing into the back of my mind.

  I was
helped by the appearance of Loma, who greeted me with an open-mouthed kiss, a hard thrust of her large, sweater-covered breasts and; "Darling, where have you been? I was getting quite frustrated."

  I had been living with Lorna for about eight months. As an actress, I rather feared she had more curves than talent, but, like myself, she could boast a private income which made things easier for both of us as we shared a dislike for discomfort.

  "I drove out to the club yesterday and stayed," I said. "Didn't I tell you I was going?"

  "My sweet, you never tell me anything."

  I knew there was no real criticism in the tone. Lorna and I had an excellent respect for the right of the other to indulge in private life. If questions were deflected or unanswered, they were not asked a second time.

  At the moment, Lorna, with her long, tight jeans, looked as delicious as she always did when I hadn't seen her for a few days. I bent and kissed her neck and she rubbed her thighs against me as if she couldn't wait to make up for lost time.

  In the back of my mind the events of the afternoon shadowed uncertainly and I straightened up.