Author Topic: She Insisted on Telling (concluded)  (Read 6931 times)

Offline SoftGameHunter

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She Insisted on Telling (concluded)
« on: June 09, 2017, 12:58:22 PM »
WARNING!    You must be 18 or over to read these stories of rape and non-consensual sex. This story is all fiction and no characters in it are meant to resemble any real person. That’s the legal part. Here’s the important part to me. This is fantasy, by the author, to be shared with readers who share in such fantasies. That is the story’s sole purpose for being here. In the real world, this sort of behavior is simply not acceptable, period, by any of the laws or morals of any humane people. That means you too. If you actually hurt someone without their informed consent, just stop. Take a deep breath and stop right now. That’s not your right. A surprising number of subs exist out there, so take the time to meet one and make your corner of the world a better place. Don’t trash two lives letting your frustrations get the better of you.

She Insisted on Telling

Chapter 1: Molly was just raped.

The masked intruder waved her phone in front of her face. Molly cringed, her jaw quivering. Just make him leave, she thought. Make them all leave. “We’ve examined your phone, cunt!” he spat. “We’ve downloaded all your contacts. Every friend you’ve ever had. Every family member. You report anything of this, tell any cops, tell any friends, and we’ll make you regret it. Everyone you’ve ever met will get a copy of the last twelve hours, and then we’ll come back to finish you off. And if we can’t find you, we’ll find, oh, Melissa, or Rachelle, or Tiff. Or maybe your grandmother! Got it? Nod if you’ve got it!”

Molly quickly nodded her head. She was lashed securely to her bed and couldn’t do much else. The man stood up straight. He pulled a gun from his waistband and pointed it, at her pussy. “Remember, you shut the fuck up about all of this!” Another jab with his fist to her jaw reinforced it. Then he motioned, and all five of them took off. Molly was left weeping and shaking, naked and cold, spread on her bed. The ropes were so tight. Her used panties were shoved in her mouth, soaking wet by then from her spit, but held in by loops of duct tape. They’d been at her all night. She saw the faint hint of day glow from the window.

She tried to scream when they were surely gone. She pulled frantically at the bonds holding her. How could she keep it a secret if she couldn’t free herself by herself? But how could she get help tied and gagged. The terrifying thought of slowly dying in that spot of dehydration flashed across her mind. What if she never got loose? She would just lie there, hurting, dying, until a few days passed and she shriveled down into a dusty corpse. Fresh tears burst from her eyes at the idea – the worst possible thing she could do was cry!

Day glow turned into dawn, and then into a bright light shining in. Molly just lay there with numbing hands and feet bordered by bloodied wrists and ankles. She pulled so hard, and got such nothing. She screamed, but no one in the building seemed to notice. Her phone rang a few times. She received texts. With the phone on the floor, she couldn’t do shit to reply. She could only lie there. Eventually she had to lie there in her own piss, as it passed noon out and her bladder was overwhelmed. It soaked into her sheets and mattress. At least it washed away some, but not all, of the dried cum on her shaved pussy. They had shaved it. They kept the hairs, too. And with each passing hour, Molly stared up at the ceiling and died a little inside. She could feel her heart flutter in terror each time she considered her options. She had none. If no one came looking for her, she was going to die, right there, hurting even more than she already was. When the sun went down, she was left without even the comforting presence of her bedroom walls for company. She lay naked and cold, staring up into the void.

The coming of daylight told her she had endured the first third of her death. Three days, that was how long it took a human to die of thirst. One down, two left. She had spent over twenty four hours tied naked to her bed. How many women suffered that much and lived? How could her rapists not know they were killing her when they left her like that? Not tell anyone? She couldn’t tell anyone anything ever again! Why threaten her when they were murdering her?

She stared, her silent horror only broken by the occasional ringing of the phone. A call, or a text, anything unanswered that would tell her friends or family that something had happened. Didn’t they notice her silence? But did she always return calls? Was she conscientious about returning texts? No. There it was. Molly Meacham not getting back to you was nothing new. Maybe in a week someone would bother to notice. By then her neighbors would have reported the smell. She let out a long, hard scream in frustration and terror, only to break down coughing. Her throat was bone dry. Her panties were mostly dry now. Her coughing fit, with the pain of the dry throat, lasted over five minutes. She heaved and jerked so hard she feared the end would come right then and there. Did those fuckers care? They raped her and left her to die.

And just as she thought it was done, her dry, sandy throat shot out more waves of pain and desperate thirst, bringing on a new fit of coughing. Her whole body was wracked with spasms and cramps. Tears she could not afford at all, scant though they were. She strained, her muscles pulling all-out, her skin breaking and ripping against the ropes holding her down. She screamed in pure agony through her tortured, ruined throat. And then the miracle finally came.

Her left leg broke free. The rope was not strong enough. Her left leg was now able to move about. But that was it. She couldn’t untie her arms with her left leg. She couldn’t even reach her arms with one leg. She could reach her right leg, but she couldn’t untie it. All she could do was let it lie loose. Until she realized that wasn’t all. She turned as much of herself over onto her right side as possible, and then kicked as far over to the right as she could. And kicked the wall.

She could kick the wall! Suddenly she had a scant hope again. She began kicking. And kicking. She kicked as hard as she could. Surely someone would hear her! Someone had to hear that. If, of course, anyone nearby were home and not at work. It was about eleven in the morning. And she heard nothing from the other units. Nothing in the building. There were retirees around, but not in her immediate neighbors. Not rights upstairs, or right downstairs.

Trying to conserve her energy, and desperate to not cry, Molly lay back down flat on her disgusting bed. She wasn’t going anywhere for at least six or more hours yet. Six more hours to lie there and let her five rapists’ cum knock her up or infect her with crabs. Not tell anyone? How could she hide anything? And weren’t they just blowing smoke at her anyway? Like these five punks, big he-men with their ganging up on helpless women at night were really organized and smart enough to monitor Molly Meacham’s life and make sure she stayed quiet. Not that bunch of fucktards! When the workday was over, she was going to survive and get out and get all of their rapist DNA on record. Hell, the cops would probably match at least two of them right away, and they’d cravenly finger the other three on their own. Pay a visit to Grandma? Who was dead, by the way. They’d be paying a visit to Bubba Brute up in the pokey, where they would be pokeyed all day and all night for twenty years to life. Rape and attempted murder, that’s what they were facing.

The longest six hours passed her by, though she kicked the wall every half hour or so. And it was only at 4:30 that someone pounded angrily back. She kicked again, and again someone pounded back. She heard someone shout something. Probably Mr. Tessier next door. She didn’t really like him much. Nor dislike him, really. He was just kind of there. Now he was shouting at her, but that was the idea. She strained and continued kicking. After a few minutes, there was no further response. And by 5:15, she heard the rattling of keys in her front door. Molly felt something akin to joy for the first time in days.

“Miss Meacham?” she heard someone ask. Some woman, probably from the front office of the complex. Molly screamed through her gag. Soon the woman poked her head around the corner of the doorway and peered into the bedroom. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight of Molly’s beaten, raped body on the bed. “Oh my god!” she screamed.

“What is it?” someone outside asked. Tessier, probably. As the office women, Corrine according to her name tag, rushed to the bed, Tessier appeared at the doorway looking alarmed. He took one look and his jaw dropped.

“Oh, jeez!” he cried. “I thought you didn’t like my radio on so loud!”

“Call 911, please,” Corrine asked him as she tried to get Molly loose. Tessier was soon on the line. As Corrine fumbled with the incredibly tight knots, Tessier walked over and handed her a jack knife from his pocket. Soon the ropes were cut, and the two women worked on the tape around her head.

“Water!” Molly whispered as soon as they could pull it off and extract her panties.

“Yes, water!” Corrine replied. She ran for the kitchen while Tessier stood over her, talking to 911, and keeping at least one eye on Molly. She wanted to shrink from his gaze, yell at him to get out. But she couldn’t talk and lacked the will. She wanted to cry, but nothing was left. Corrine returned with a big cup of tap water.

“Go slow!” she urged as Molly grasped the big cup and gulped it down. She needed two hands to properly keep a grip on it, so weak and numb were both hands. And after guzzling half of it in seconds, her stomach heaved and sent it back up. She dropped the cup, puking water all over herself, running down her chest. But her throat was moistened at least.

She took another swallow. One. Just one. And she counted to twenty. And wished like fucking hell all that Tessier would leave the room and stop gawking at her! What was she, a peep show? But he was on the line with 911. Finally, though, he looked out the window. “Cops are here,” he said. “And I see the ambulance coming up the road right now.”

Molly had managed to get all the way to sitting up when her bedroom was flooded by first police officers and then moments later by paramedics. All focused on her. All staring at her. She wanted to crawl into a shower. Or anywhere. But that was not realistic. She could hardly tell them to away. Besides, she hurt. Everywhere. She needed to see a doctor. And for the rest of what was about to come, which she’d read about in magazines, well, there was no avoiding it. The examination. The rape kits. If she wanted to put them away, that was the price. There was always a fucking price!

At least she was covered with a sheet as they rolled her out, all eyes still on her. Even Tessier was still hanging around in the hall as she rolled by. A dozen cops and techies stayed behind, in her apartment, without her even there. Strangers picking over her home, and soon enough over her body. Always a price.
« Last Edit: June 14, 2017, 03:53:17 AM by SoftGameHunter »
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

darklord
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Re: She Insisted on Telling
« Reply #1 on: June 09, 2017, 01:45:02 PM »
Hats off to you. How you can churn such a great story out on a single idea is amazing.  Loved the details of her struggle.  Great work

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: She Insisted on Telling
« Reply #2 on: June 09, 2017, 01:49:30 PM »
It is either impressive or frightening that I can produce this much sadism on demand. I'm not sure which. But either way, stay tuned to further chapters.
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

darklord
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Re: She Insisted on Telling
« Reply #3 on: June 09, 2017, 01:55:29 PM »
Oh I will

gscmar64
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Re: She Insisted on Telling
« Reply #4 on: June 09, 2017, 03:12:22 PM »
Love it and great to hear it's going to continue!

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: She Insisted on Telling
« Reply #5 on: June 09, 2017, 03:25:35 PM »
I just can't believe it took this long for me to come up with the idea. So many stories end with "If you tell anyone, we know how to find you" or "If you tell anyone, you'll become an internet porn star in every detail". Why did I not think until now, what if she tells?
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

darklord
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Re: She Insisted on Telling
« Reply #6 on: June 09, 2017, 03:35:31 PM »
I didn't either. Never dawned on me.   You played it though :)

Offline vile8r

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Re: She Insisted on Telling
« Reply #7 on: June 09, 2017, 05:09:30 PM »
It is either impressive or frightening that I can produce this much sadism on demand. I'm not sure which. But either way, stay tuned to further chapters.


It's frightening to be sure! LOL . You are such a prolific writer, I don't know how you pound stuff out so fast, and yet still maintain a high standard of quality storytelling! Always a pleasure to read your stories, SGH. You never disappoint.
I could rape your pussy, but I'd be in and out in a few minutes. So I choose to rape your mind, and I'll be inside you forever!

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: She Insisted on Telling
« Reply #8 on: June 09, 2017, 06:49:01 PM »
Thanks all, for your many kind words. You inspired me to get another short chapter out today. And a special shout-out to my fellow writing colleague Brokenwing, whose portrayal of the rape exam in her telling of The Volleyball Girl gave me enough inspiration and information to try such a scene myself, however different the particulars were in the end.

Chapter 2: Molly provided evidence from her mind and body.

“How are you feeling now?” some nurse was asking her.

“Just do what you need to do,” Molly replied tersely, focusing on the ceiling. The tiles held more appeal to her than what she was facing in the ER. She lay on the gurney, tucked in a semi-private corner of the busy center. The ER, where to some extent everyone just tried to look at the walls and not each other. Where no one would stare. Unless they could stare at a reasonably attractive woman full of bruises on her face. At least the rest of her was covered. For now.

She heard her name mentioned by someone not too far away. “Doctor Brent isn’t here right now! Do you want that poor woman to wait for her?” “How long?” “Two hours or more. She’s in surgery right now.” “Get LaSalle, then. And tell him to try to be considerate.” Molly pursed her lips and sucked in a breath. Just get it done. A few minutes later, she jerked as suddenly a man was standing over her, upside down in her field of vision for just a moment until he moved to her side.

“Miss Meacham?” he asked. “I’m Doctor LaSalle. I’ll be giving you an examination, if that is okay with you.”

“The rape exam,” Molly said. “Yes, just do it. Tell me if anything is going to sting or pinch.”

“Let’s get you into an exam room for some privacy.” They wheeled her somewhere. It was all the same. She ended up in some small room with LaSalle and a nurse. Soon the covering was pulled down partway. Just a few inches, but it felt like they were pulling her shirt down. LaSalle was suddenly over her again, making her draw in breath quickly. “I need to do a mouth swab, check for fluids, DNA evidence, stuff like that,” he said. “Open wide please.”

Molly opened her mouth. For a swab, not for a cock. For a tiny bit of cotton on her cheek, not for a raging dick, slamming into the back of her throat. He took various samples. Then he turned to her neck. “I’m going to be touching these bruises.”

“Yes, just do it please!” she said. He rattled off findings. Molly was reminded of watching ER, where she didn’t understand the technical terms any better than here. Contusions and stuff like that. His fingers didn’t stop prodding, examining her, not strangling her. Not cutting off her air for fun until she passed out. Four times.

“Try to breathe normally,” LaSalle said.

“I am trying.” She enduring the poking. Then came out the stirrups. Putting her legs back in the spread position they’d been in for almost two days hurt like hell, just as freeing them and kicking the wall had. But now it seemed worse. Her muscles screamed. They had a shield up, so she couldn’t see him poking around.

“We’re going to…”

“Just do whatever!” she cried. “I don’t need the play by play!”

She heard mumbling. Withdrawn. Irritability. Other funny buzz words. Now they’d send a psychiatrist down before she could go home. And then they were poking at her vagina. Poking, examining. Not raping. A speculum, not a tube of toothpaste, or the blunt end of a screwdriver. But it may as well have been the same. At least no one was yelling at her now. That was a clear improvement. She could yell here. They couldn’t. It seemed a hollow victory, drowned out by the pain as they discovered each bruise down deep. Each rip, tear, cut, welt. All photographed. All sampled. Just get it all and be done, she thought. Just do it already!

The rectal exam. She wasn’t as tight as two days earlier. The speculum wasn’t as wide as the flashlight, the soda bottle, or three of the five cocks. There was a knock at the door, and the nurse practically bounced off the floor to get there. “We’re conducting a rape exam!” she hissed, far too loudly. Keep it down, Molly thought, in case I forget what I’m doing here. Counting ceiling tile holes, of course.

“How are you doing there, Miss Meacham?” LaSalle asked her.

Molly froze. She didn’t want the shrinks coming down any faster. “Fine,” she finally said.

“Still with us?”

“Please just continue!” she said. Get what they need. Get everything. Make the ordeal worth something. After over an hour it was done. She found herself in a hospital gown, the most clothing she’d worn in a couple days. Next was the police.

“We have some questions for you,” the detective said. Molly looked at him. He was definitely checking her out. She pulled the bed sheet up over her chest. “We can start with some easy ones. Yes or no.”

“I want to make a statement!” she blurted out. “And you, just, you know, ask me for details, if I’m not clear.”

“Alright, certainly.”

“It started when I came home from work on Friday. They were in my apartment. I was a little early, and I think I surprised them. There were five of them. They had masks on already.” She paused. “They didn’t call each other by name. Not once.” She paused again. “They totally planned for this. They’ve done it before. They must have!”

***

“And after they pulled the flashlight out, they, they made me lick it clean,” she said mechanically, focused on the soap dispenser across the room. “I don’t know which of them gave me the order.” She’d said that same line a thousand times. They all looked about the same. They sounded about the same. They had no names they used, not even nicknames. She couldn’t tell one from another during the assault. Why did she have to keep re-iterating that same fucking point?

“One of them didn’t like how fast I was licking. He hit me with this little club or nightstick he was carrying.” She pointed to her left side, by her ear. “Right here. It was very painful.” She was back to a near monotone. “He said his stick was going up my ass next if I did not show them proper love.”

***

“No. I was not in the bath tub. I was in the bathroom, but not the tub. They used the funnel in my butt to pour corn oil into me. Inside me. It spilled. It is probably still on the floor.”

***

“I guess one of them had a body odor, down at his crotch. It smelled like, like rotten lemons! The first time I sucked him off they put a knife to my throat so I wouldn’t pull away.” She lifted her head. “Right here. I think it cut me.”

“Yes,” the officer said.

***

“I screamed, but the gag was thick. Besides my panties, they had four layers of duct tape on my head, wrapped all the way around.” She paused. “I had a deviated septum corrected a few years ago. That’s the only reason I could breath.”

***

“They downloaded everything!” she cried. After so much recitation of acts done on her, she finally lost her self-control. She didn’t want to cry in front of them. She had to. “They have my family’s addresses, and all my friends! They said they’d share all the video with everyone! EVERYONE! And they threatened every woman on the contact list! You have to protect them! You have to warn them! God, I’m not even supposed to be talking to you!”

“If they share any video, we’ll catch them even faster. Don’t you worry!” he replied. Sure. Nothing to worry about there, she thought. “And we’ll be in contact with everyone on your list. Your phone is in evidence, right now. Can you provide the password so we can start making calls?”

“In evidence?”

“It is evidence. It was found at the scene. You said they left pictures on your phone that they took of you. That’s all evidence.”

“When can I get it back? Some of those numbers I don’t have anywhere else!”

“As soon as possible.”

“When’s that?!”

“When everything has been done.” Molly stared at him in shock. She literally couldn’t contact some of her older friends now. She didn’t have a hundred numbers memorized. The cops had the numbers. The rapists had the numbers. When could she get the numbers?

“I’ll ask if someone can copy the data and send it to you,” he offered. “Should be a couple days at most.”

“They don’t have a couple days,” Molly said.

“Look, Miss Meacham, lots of rapists make threats. Threats to family. Threats to friends. It’s mostly crap. They don’t know you’ve talked to anyone, and the last thing they’ll want is to snoop around and be extra visible. It’s an empty threat. You’ll never see those guys again.”

His words echoed in her head after he was done. She’d never see those guys again. She stared at the ceiling. Never again. Never again. Never again. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She’d never even seen them the first time. And if they came at her, or her female loved ones, no one could see them until it was too late.
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

darklord
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Re: She Insisted on Telling
« Reply #9 on: June 09, 2017, 07:42:14 PM »
Stellar chapter.  The vivid details of the exam were riveting.

gscmar64
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Re: She Insisted on Telling
« Reply #10 on: June 10, 2017, 01:20:13 PM »
Nice incorporation of the rape exam a perfectly logical way to continue!

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: She Insisted on Telling
« Reply #11 on: June 10, 2017, 02:30:00 PM »
Chapter 3: Molly learned the severity of her situation.

The hospital stay itself was calming for a while. Unpleasant, to be sure. There was too much poking and looking at things already looked at, even if it was their job to look at her. But it felt safe. That gang of five was out there, and they had her entire life downloaded. But at least they wouldn’t come after her in the middle of Metropolitan Hospital.

Her mother flew in to see her. It was a long trip. Long enough to put Molly’s mind at ease a bit there. They wouldn’t go a thousand miles just to revenge rape her mother, or her older sister either.

But would they follow her a thousand miles to revenge rape her? “Molly, come home and stay with us a while, please,” her mom had begged her. “At least until you’re ready to go back to work.”

“That’s just a couple days, Mom,” she said.

“A couple days? No, that’s far too short.”

“It’s what the doctors say.”

“Molly!” Both women turned as her best friend Tiff arrived, out of breath, at the doorway. “Oh, hi Mrs. Meacham.”

“Hello, Tiffany. It’s been a while.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not kids anymore, so you can call me Mona now.”

“Uh, yeah, maybe. That’s so weird. I’ll try, Mona.”

“Mom got in this morning,” Molly said.

“Yeah. Um, yeah.” Tiff was clearly fidgety. Nothing new there, Molly thought. But her demeanor put her on edge.

“Is something wrong?”

“Um, well. Maybe we should talk, pr…” She paused. “No, no, this should, I mean we all need to, um, handle it.” She was tripping over words, she was so badly agitated. “Mona, have you checked your emails today?” she asked warily.

Molly felt her face turn white. The room temperature dropped five degrees in an instant.

“My laptop is in the hotel. Molly! Good God, are you alright?”

Molly reached her hand out to Tiff. “It’s cued up?” Tiff nodded and handed her her i-phone, then closed the door. They were in a double room, but the other bed was unoccupied. Molly saw it on a field of white. She hit play.

‘The habits of the slut and prostitute Molly Meacham vol. 1’ it read, the letters scrolling across the screen. She sucked in a deep breath seeing her name in print that way. Her other hand clutched the bed rail in a death grip. The film continued. It cut directly to her naked and beaten in her living room. The lighting was awkward. The lights were on, but her crotch as she crawled on the floor while they hit and kicked her was not in good focus. It was the flashlight in her ass. It was on, messing up the lighting on their camera.

“Please, please!” she was sobbing on the film. Her voice was so drained, so pathetic sounding now. It was a later scene, many hours into their rape.

“Say it, bitch!”

“I’m a slut whore I’m a slut whore,” Molly on tape repeated. Yes, that was what they’d demanded of her quite a lot. “I’m a slut whore.”

Someone kicked her belly hard, knocking her down. “Get that light out of your ass!” one of them demanded. Molly watched it happen. It was like brand new. So she’d had to pull it out herself. She remembered it wrong when she was talking to the cops. Should she correct it? Now that they were following through?

Tape Molly reached between her legs, sobbing wildly, pulling the flashlight from her anus and turning it off herself. Tape Molly looked at it in her hands, covered in brown, in obvious disgust. Real Molly felt her breath grow shallow. She didn’t want to watch anymore but couldn’t pull away. The order came, and Tape Molly slowly licked her tongue along the flashlight shaft, sopping up the shit, her own shit, that lined it. As Real Molly watched Tape Molly’s horrid ordeal, Real Mona fled the room, fighting back sobs of her own. Tiff just stared at the window, probably having already seen it.

“Do you like the taste, slut?”

“I love the taste of my own shit,” Tape Molly replied, dead, dull, mechanically. The tears gushing down her face showed she was lying. Then the scene repeated rapidly.

“I love the taste of my own shit.”

“I love the taste of my own shit.”

“I love the taste of my own shit.”

“I love the taste of my own shit.”

It continued as they made her fake a smile. Then the video cut out. Words scrolled across the screen. ‘A Molly Meacham production, starring Molly Meacham, filmed on location in Molly Meacham’s crotch at Molly Meacham’s home at 3786 Pinewood Ave…’ She stared wide-eyed as her full address scrolled across the screen. Then it went dead.

For several minutes, she just sat there on the hospital bed, clutching the bedsheet up to her neck, breathing hard, trying to keep the tears back. “Could you tell mom it’s done,” she finally said. Tiff nodded and hurried out, giving Molly a chance to finally let some real tears flow for a few moments. She wiped her eyes before they got back.

“Well,” Mona said, trying to sound strong now, but obviously with no follow-up.

“Yeah,” Tiff added. “You can’t go back there,” she said. “Ever.”

“I have to move.”

“Okay, but you have our gang with you. At least three of us.”

“Who is in this gang?” Mona asked.

“It’s just a group of friends, Mom,” Molly said. “I have good friends. I hope it stays that way. Tiff, they threatened everyone! You, Melissa, Rachelle, even my grandmother! They said if I told anyone what happened they’d put my film out and pay visits to women on my contacts page. I can’t even reach some of my old friends because the cops have my phone!”

“Alright, alright, alright. Let’s just be calm, okay. Calm,” Tiff said. She already knew that much, having visited Molly in the hospital earlier. “What did the police say?”

“How did they know you reported anything?” Mona asked. “How could they? They’re just a gang of rapists! They don’t have contacts at the police!”

Molly pointed to the previous day’s paper, still sitting on the chair. Tiff picked it up, still open to the metro crime blotter page.

‘A woman was sexually assaulted in her home in the 3500 Block of Pinewood Avenue, at the Carlisle Gardens apartment complex. Five men are reported to have broken into the woman’s home while she was out, and encountered her upon her return home. The attack lasted approximately twelve hours. No identifying characteristics were available from interviews. “We have physical evidence that is being tested in the crime lab,” a metro police spokesman said. “We have details of the crime, but no useful description of the perpetrators. They apparently wore hoods the entire time, and did not address each other by names of any kind.” The victim remained bound in her home until she was able to alert neighbors and the apartment management.’

Mona read the paragraph quickly. “Just enough about police interviews to let them know,” Molly said. “The police said they wouldn’t do anything. They’d be scared to poke around or approach me, and they wouldn’t send video through the internet because it would be too easy to trace. He was very confident of that. Very, very confident.”

Mona set the paper down, excessively paying attention that it was folded back properly and neatly. She patted the crease several times.

“I put you all in danger,” Molly said.

“No, Molly, don’t say that!” Mona cried. “What could you do, not go to the hospital? Not talk to the police?”

“I could have not talked! Maybe I should have shut the hell up! It’s not like anyone will catch these guys! I’ll bet there’s no DNA match.”

“I’m calling your aunt Angela,” Mona said.

“Why?” Molly asked.

“Because Rick used to work as a security consultant out in California before he got into insurance. He once worked protection for some famous people, I think. He’ll have some advice. And it will probably be for you to come home!”

“Mom, I am home!” Molly stated.

“Yeah, you are,” Tiff said. “You can stay with me for as long as you want. Or we’ll move you around, safe house to safe house.”

“Stop watching so much 24,” Molly said.

“But Molly, they’re not going to stop!” Mona cried. “They can keep sending these disgusting videos out. Who got them? Who’s on the list?”

“It just says MollyList,” Tiff said. “Everyone is bcc’d.”

Mona’s phone rang. She looked at the display and drew in a deep breath. “It’s your dad. Urgent.”

“Oh god,” Molly sniffed. “Did he have to look at that?”

“I’ll take it in the hall.”

“Do you think they’ll come after anyone?” Tiff asked when Mona stepped out. She was clearly scared. “I mean, I know you’re not a mind reader. But. You were there. Would they?”

“Maybe,” Molly said.

“I just want you to know that you’re my best friend, and whatever you want to try to do, I’m with you. We can room together, and buy a gun or something, and we’ll all help you move. And we’ll spread the word about the videos, and your real friends will just delete them on sight if they’re warned ahead of time, right? No one wants to see that! I’m stopping and deleting anything I get that’s one of those vids.”

“I know. I can always count on you,” Molly said.

Mona returned to the room. Her face was ashen, much worse even than when she’d watched half of Molly’s rape video. “Dad got a video too?” Molly asked.

Mona shook her head. She collapsed into a chair, atop the newspaper she had so carefully folded up. “Your cousin Shelly, in Springfield. She’s in the hospital.” Molly felt everything around her fade away. All of her peripheral vision cut out as she stared at her mother’s face. Springfield was only eighty miles away. Her mouth gaped open as she listened to her mom’s deadpan recitation of the facts. “She was raped last night. Five men broke in. She’s in intensive care right now.” Her voice seemed to trail off, but her eyes stayed focused. Molly waited for the rest. There was clearly a rest of the story. “They carved words on her stomach. They carved the words ‘it’s on’ on her belly.”
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

Offline justvisiting
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Re: She Insisted on Telling
« Reply #12 on: June 10, 2017, 02:50:02 PM »
Great story! Can't wait for more chapters!!

Offline andypandy

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Re: She Insisted on Telling (ch 3 added 6/10)
« Reply #13 on: June 10, 2017, 05:22:14 PM »
Terrific stuff. Both arousing and terrifying at the same time. Rare indeed.

gscmar64
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Re: She Insisted on Telling (ch 3 added 6/10)
« Reply #14 on: June 10, 2017, 05:32:46 PM »
Fantastic chapter SoftGameHunter, now her horror really begins!