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***This is a fictional erotic story written by me, about me and from my point of view. You should not be reading this if you’re not of legal age, 18 in America, 21 in some other countries. I never explain in my CNC stories how consent was garnered. I have a post named “How I approach stories about CNC/R**p*ay” pinned on my page explaining why. CNC relationships come in all forms, including scenes that may seem/feel too real. I can assure you that since the stories are all the time starring me as the prey, I consent. This is my fantasy, not yours. You are not being forced to read this, so if you choose to then be nice and enjoy. ☺️***

“Good evening, Emma. I appreciate you coming by later than we had originally planned. It was a crazy day but I wanted to make sure to get you in considering the circumstances.”

“Yeah, no problem. I’m not sure why I’m here though. I told everything to the detectives.”

“I know you did and I am sorry to make you retell me but I have a few questions and it’s easier to do that as you tell the details. So go ahead and start from the beginning.”

“Okay, um, well I had been at home and I was cleaning. I like to clean at night. The last thing I always do is take out the trash. So when I thought was done with everything else, I did that. Then I realized I forgot to sweep. So I left the door open and figured I could quickly sweep the floors and just empty the dustpan into the outside trashcan. This way the inside lens would still be empty.”

“Okay hold on,” he said as he was writing notes. “Why did you leave the door open?”

“It was only for a few minutes, sweeping doesn’t take that -“

He cut me off “no I understand that part, but you’re home alone. It’s late at night. You said in your statement that your door is always locked. That you’re aware of the dangers of being home alone, so why was this night any different?”

“I don’t know, I just – I guess I didn’t think it was long enough to matter.” I said defeated. I know I fucked up. He reached out and placed his hand on my knee, making me jump in response.

“I’m not upset, I’m just trying to understand. Keep going.” He removed his hand and leaned back to his original seated position.

I felt relieved that he wasn’t upset. “Okay, um -“ I was trying to remember where I left off. He just stared at me. Not filling the silence with any words. “I was uh, sweeping in the back hallway. I heard the door shut and sort of froze, thinking maybe it was just the cat jumping on the door. I continued sweeping & filled the dust pan, walking it to the outside trashcan. I came back inside and then closed and locked the door. I was walking past my garage door when I first heard footsteps. Before I could turn around, there was a -“

“Wait, sorry. Your garage door?” He interrupted.

“Oh um yeah. The garage door for the car doesn’t have an automatic open/shut motor so instead of parking in it, we made it a library. So the garage door that leads inside just stays open.”

“Oh okay, continue.” He said.

“Um so his hands were on my mouth and-“

“His hands? How did you know it was a man?” He said.

“Uh um I, I don’t know. I guess I just assumed.”

He responded saying “Okay Emma, these are the details that we need to have down. It’s odd to me that when telling the story, you know the person is a man. As you know, we have scoured your social media and I don’t think I have to tell you what we found as it is your phone.” He looked at me, seeming to wait for me to respond. I was confused. I didn’t think I had anything else on there that typical 27 year olds don’t. There are thousands of people that wrote literotica, so it couldn’t have been that. Could it?

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to. My phone has all the same things that women my age have doesn’t it?”

He seemed to be annoyed with me “Emma. Enough. You had tons of nudes & selfies. You clearly know you’re attractive. Then you write stories about aggressive sexual situations. The defense is going to say that you were excited to bring these fantasies to reality. It is important that you’re completely honest with me and that you own up to being promiscuous when on the stand. There is power in being proud of your sexuality. If you try to pretend you’re not, the defense will see right through it. Just like I am right now.” He quieted again, standing now and leaning back on his desk.

“Im promiscuous?” I asked, confused. I didn’t think I was the only one.

He sighed “yes. It isn’t a bad thing, this is 2022. You are allowed to do whatever you want. But I will be honest with you and say that I have been doing this a long time. It is pretty rare to see these details in a rape case. Most of our victims are shy, quiet. They don’t have a lot of confidence, therefore there isn’t a ton of provocative information on their cellphone. The defense has a lot to use for proving that you wanted this.”

I was starting to get angry. “That’s victim blaming. That’s not even legal anymore.”

He remained calm. “Not in this case. When you write out fantasies of being forced, the defense can present this to the jury as proof that you fantasized about this. Your conversations with people on these apps will be put on screen, showing that you communicated with like minded people. Even though there isn’t messages directly planning this, it is enough reasonable doubt for this guy to get off.”

I started to cry, not sure what to do. He sat next to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “I will do everything that I can to get this guy, but I need you to just be honest with me about your promiscuous behavior.”

I looked up at him, his gaze looking down on me as he was a good 9 inches taller than me. “Yeah, I write about sex and even aggressive sex. But I have never messaged someone to do it. It’s all in good fun, no intent to bring it to life.”

“Emma, when you were being sexually assaulted. Be honest with me, were you wet?”

I could feel the warmth on my face. I knew it was bright red with embarrassment.

“I understand that this can be involuntary for victims, so can having an orgasm. I still need you to answer if you were wet and if you orgasmed.”

Through tears, I responded “yes.”

“You can see the problem here right?” He asked me.

“Yes, I can. So what do I do? I don’t think I should bring charges. It just makes me look worse. I just want to go home. You’re right about it all.” I said, trying to stop crying.

“I’m right about what?” He asked, still seeming to keep his cool.

“I’m promiscuous. I write bad stories and I take dirty pictures. I-I-“

“You’re a slut.” He said. I looked up at him again, taken back by the words that just came out of his mouth. He could clearly see the surprise on my face. “Oh don’t make that face. You wrote stories about wanting to be raped. You supposedly get raped, but the second I ask you a few hard questions, you want to go home. Victims that have been actually assaulted and didn’t want it, they never back down. They fight. Then tonight, you come to my office, late at night. You’re wearing those tight yoga pants and a crop top. Why that outfit of choice?” He looked at me, watching my surprised eyes widen and my attempt to stutter a response back. I couldn’t discover the words, so he gave me some. “Say it. Say “I’m a slut” and you’ll feel better.”

I was so confused. I wasn’t sure what to say or do. I sat their, thinking. Nothing that he said was false. It wasn’t like he was trying to make up things to make me feel bad. I did write those stories. I am here late at night dressed provocatively. I did leave my door open. I was wet and I did cum. “I’m a slut” I responded after what seemed like forever. His hand moved to my yoga pants and he peeled them off with my panties, revealing the soaking wet puddle I had been sitting in. He laughed at me. “We are talking about your rape and you’re aroused.” I was so embarrassed, I couldn’t say anything still but he took enjoyment out of my face anyway. He removed my crop top and pinched my nipples, watching my face scrunch. “Owwww” I said.

“Shut up, Emma.” He said in a monotone voice, his eyes dark and predatory. He grabbed my hair at the base of my head, pulling it back and biting and licking my neck. I tried to wiggle away but he pulled me up by the hair and bent me over the desk, slamming my face into the hard wood. I had no idea what he used but he wrapped my wrists up behind my back. Knowing I was unable to get free, he released his grip leaving me bent over on the desk. I could hear his pants hit the carpet. The swooshing of his feet being removed from each pant leg. He stepped towards me, sliding his hand up and down my ass and thigh. Groping and gripping numerous places as he did. His fingers slipped into my very wet pussy, sloshing noises escaping with every movement. He continued and continued, only pulling them out when he felt me getting close “no no you don’t, if you cum, then it just adds to my points doesn’t it?”

It felt good and I was aroused. I couldn’t lie about that but I had no idea how this had changed so quickly. One minute I was reporting a rape and now I was being raped. Well I think I am at least. I didn’t consent to this but I’m so turned on. I can’t believe this is happening again. I felt him pull up on my arms, but once I was standing, he used his hand to push me to my knees. Suddenly his dick was in my face, pressing against my lips. I opened my mouth, allowing him to enter. He instantly took benefit of this. He pushed his dick into my throat while holding my head like a flesh light, pumping back and forth vigorously. I choked, unable to control the drool from falling down my chin and onto my breasts and stomach. He spit on me “you’re such a slut, letting me use that mouth of yours.”

He pulled me off his dick and threw me to the floor, quickly following and crawling on top of me. He rolled me on my back, forcing my body weight onto my arms and shoulders trapped behind my back. “My arms, my arms, they hurt” I cried out. He didn’t respond, instead pulling my legs open and pushing into my ass. I screamed out in pain, not having the time to adjust to the stretching of my asshole. He covered my mouth and pumped harder into me, grunting and loaning. “Pweeeease” I tried to mumble through his hand but this just made him go harder, being turned on more by my pleas. He pushed all the way into me and made me look at him by moving his hand while leaving my mouth covered forcing my head to follow. “Keep your eyes on mine” he said and start to fuck my ass again. I squeezed my eyes shut, grunting from the pain and felt a guttural put in my stomach as his fist came in contact to my ribs. “I said look at me.” I opened my eyes again, tears falling down my cheeks but remaining on him as asked. I could tell he was gonna cum now, he pushed in and moshed loudly. His cock throbbed as his cum filled my asshole.

After he seemed to recover, he got up and put his pants on. He then came over to me, helping me up and removed my bindings. “We can meet again later to discuss more case details on Thursday evening if you want” he said seeing my messed up face and the bruise forming on the side from his desk. He reached up to my face, seeming to caress the bruise “so pretty. I’ll see you Thursday.” I was speechless and the bruise on my face and ribs were throbbing. I put on my clothes and left. When I got in my car, I added a meeting for Thursday to my phone calendar.

NSFW: yes

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