Warning! You must be 18 or over to read these stories of rape and non consensual sex. If you do not like such stories, please turn back. I don't promote rape or non-consentual sex. This is only a story, fiction, if you do not understand the difference between reality and fantasy, read no more. All the characters in this story are over the age of 18. Rape is a heinous crime and the penalty is many years in prison. Anyone who commits rape are despised everywhere. But fantasies are all right so long as no one is hurt.
Cheer Girl's Haunted Walk
(by Morgan98 and TheYellowKnight)
"Moving sucks!", Morgan muttered under her breath. But at least it was nearly over, she thought while toned calves strained on tip-toe to shove the last heavy box onto the shelf. Wiping the perspiration off her brow, she headed off to the shower in preparation to retire for the night. While she scrubbed, she deliberated over the past 24 hours. There was a palpable excitement of moving into a new apartment, a new start in fresh environs. Unwrapping the wet towel and slipping into a silk camisole, she peered onto the closet floor. "Just one more box to put away...", debating whether to play or go to sleep.
She knelt down to the lone remaining container, sitting on the floor of her dark closet. Placing her slim fingers on the ornate box, the embossed carvings exuded a sense of comfort and familiarity. The rusty hinge squeaked, where she tipped the finely crafted lid upward, revealing her enticing possessions. Or did these objects actually possess... her?
Morgan reached in, lifting the tattered remnant of the movie poster she had retained since her early teens. Studying the damsel in distress in this rendering of fantasy art, she briefly felt a tingle. Imagine the perils going through the mind of this imaginary femme fatale, she wondered. Her eyes feasted on those monsters... clawing her dress, tearing her bodice, yanking the bra strap down her shoulder... it was all too arousing for Morgan's imagination.
She carefully set the print aside, placing her hands delicately over the dark blue garment in the box. Unfurling it's heavy form, she set it down, running her hands over the sleeves, stroking the fine fibers. The wooly texture transmitted shivers of delight on her freshly showered skin. She slowly unsnapped each button, from top down, feeling almost like the sensation of seductively undressing someone. Opening the garment, she gasped at the cool texture of the lining, luxuriating in the fabric. Kneeling on the floor, she flipped the jacket around, allowing the weighty coat to embrace her slinky frame. Slowly pressing each of the buttons, she flinched in pleasure, at the tell-tale clicking sounds as the metallic closures snapped into place.
Morgan breathed in measured cadences, lolling while entwined in the cool surface of the jacket liner. The contact chilled her, deriving a rash of excitement across the silky surface of her skin. In the clasp of comfort, she closed her eyes...
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She had taken this walk a hundred times. It was the short cut back home, the kind of route everyone tells you not to take. In fact, it was straight up disrespectful to walk through such hallowed grounds. But the opportunity to commit mischief had excited her at first. Now it was all about practicality, as it literally shaved fifteen minutes of time to get home from cheer practice.
Tonight though, just felt peculiar. The full moon cast upon the air an eerie glow, highlighting macabre details on the elaborate stonework that she had never noticed before. The stone gargoyles perched with greater intensity in their glare, so much that she imagined their heads tracking her path. The darkness seemed to cast blacker shadows, obscured by wisps of shrouded mist and seclusion. And most of all, the biting chill of the night air seemed to penetrate through her clothing. The goosepimples propped up prominently from her flesh, similar to the way her nipples hardened. And was she just imagining things... or was there a subtle tingly blast of cool sinister air teasing beneath her skirt.
Morgan picked up the pace, glancing behind her from time to time, feeling this uneasy sensation that she was being watched. Suddenly, she thought she saw words inscribed on the tombstones. "Filthy" "Whore" "Premonition" "Omen" She stopped to blink her eyes, feeling a ice cold rush of foreboding dread crawl up her spine. She looked again, the tombstones were blank under the moonlight of malevolent darkness. "Your mind's just playing tricks on you..." wanting to believe herself. The wind picked up, rustling dark trees beyond the fence. In the midst of it all, it hissed... "leave..." Morgan stopped in her tracks, recognizing that the voice was far from imaginary. Her trembling fingers grabbed a hold of the front lapel of her jacket. Squeezing the familiar fabric, she felt herself transport back to reality...
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Morgan's eyes suddenly sprang open, her wide baby blues scanning the darkness of the closet before settling down. It just felt so real, her nipples were still rock hard from the residual effects of the ambient chills of her reverie. The fear was palpable, but that visceral thrill was exactly what augmented the flights of her imagination. With a fetching mischievous smirk, she reached into the box to extract the last few items that she'd use for the night.
She was feeling it... that mood, sashaying a slow sultry walk towards her bed. She slid on her knees, sensuously, onto the crisp bedspread, feeling the satiny textile brush over her smooth legs. Setting the objects to her side within reach, she lazed into the pillows, scooching her fine bottom in place. Her gentle hands caressed each knee, rewarding herself with the most delicate of touches, she caressed up her thighs. "Oooohh..." came the whispered feminine moan from her pursed lips.
