Without a sound she lies on the floor. The tears roll down her face, as her whole body trembles. Pressing her arms tightly to her chest, pulling her knees up, she tries to curl into a ball, but once again the uncontrolled sobbing rips trough her body.

"My God..."

The whisper is hoarse, coming from a throat damaged by screaming.

"My God..."

The sound of her voice is not the only thing she can hear, there is a television set going on softly in the background, a chirrup of commercials, all excited voices and frantic music ricocheting around the house. But to her this is a sound from another world. Her whisper is the only thing real enough just now.

"My God, my God..."

She isn't talking to anyone in particular. There isn't anyone around. She is the only person in the house.

Her throat tightened yet again as the tears gush forth. She spits on the floor, trying to free her self from the taste in her mouth. Her body is trembling and she can not stop it. There is no getting up or even leaving the foetal position, she doesn't have the strength or courage to try.

"My God..." She closes her eyes as if that could erase the reality for long enough to allow her to compose herself. But the images come back the same moment.

"My God..." she cries, this time in a louder voice, before it subsides to a painful whisper again. "He raped me..."

The music and voices on TV continue unimpressed. She isn't addressing anyone with her confession anyway.

"He raped me. He raped me. He raped me. He raped me."

She repeats the words over and over in a monotone, gravid whisper. It hurts her throat to form the words but still she repeats them. There is no other way to face the fact. She repeats the words, soaking herself in pain and shame of it all. She was raped. She was raped in her home. She was brutally raped in her home by a youth less than half her age. She was brutally raped in her home by a mere boy. She was brutally assaulted and raped in her home by her son's friend, Jeremy.


"Yes Ms. Evans, I would like a cup of coffee, that would be nice."

She was aware of the way Jeremy was looking at her. All of her son's friends were looking at her that way, when they thought she wasn't noticing. It made her feel different things. Guilt and lust. Getting horny from being eyed by a bunch of teenagers was bad. It had to be bad. Touching herself afterwards, imagining how they must be masturbating thinking of Ms. Evans' still attractive body had to be bad. She felt guilty.

She felt torn between her instincts and her upbringing, between her role of a mother and housewife and the desperate heat she felt between her legs. Her husband never understood and she knew he never would. She was a good wife and mother and he was a good husband and father. But she could not help getting aroused by seeing her son's friends look at her candidly, when they thought she was not aware.

Jeremy was different than others. He did not seem to care that she could tell he was looking at her. He was the same age, as others, yes, but he looked older, bigger, stronger, more mature than any of her son's friends. He played football. He had a short, spiky hair and a tattoo on his right arm. He did not seem to care that she could tell, he was looking at her, eyeing her, stripping her with his eyes.

It was bad. It was bad to feel this way. Jeremy was just a boy and he had no business looking at her the way he did. He made her feel like a slut sitting on that sofa, staring at her legs, his arms casually on his thighs, as if he was getting ready to peel his combat trousers any moment. She walked into the kitchen to get him coffee. She knew his eyes never left her body.

Her son was out. Didn't Jeremy know about that? Apparently no. He didn't seem to mind, though, unlike other kids, he had no problems inviting himself in and placing his large body on the sofa in the living room. It made her feel awkward. He was acting like an adult, which was wrong. He stared at her as if she was a whore. That had to be wrong.


She tries to prevent herself, but finally it all comes out. It was a small wonder she did not throw up during the rape. There was plenty of opportunities there. But only now, lying on tiles in her kitchen, crying with barely any sound, her body gives in gives out. The taste is bitter and her whole body hurts as convulsions make her thrash on the floor.


There was no sound as he followed her into the kitchen. Maybe it was the noise from the television set in the living room that masked his movement. Or... Maybe he was just extra-silent, like a predator stalking his prey.

"MY GOD, Jeremy, you scared me!!"

She jumped when she felt his hand on her back. She never knew he was behind her before he touched her through her dress.

"Oh, I am sorry.", his voice went down a few tones and he added a few extra vowels to "sorry". "Didn't know you were so easily scared."

"What is it?" she asked. This was a stupid question, but she could not think of anything else. The surprise of his hand touching her, the unease of having him so near. The... fear. He was not supposed to be here, he was not supposed to follow her into the kitchen. He was not supposed to touch her, by God, she could be his mother. He was not supposed to put his hand on her. He was not supposed to have his hand on her. He should have removed it.

"Jeremy, what do you want?"

Instead of answering her question, his smile widened as he moved his hand down her back. Sliding it down her ass made him chuckle smugly.

"I like the way you play this game, Ms. Evans. You're a real actress."

The rage. This is what she should have felt.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Her voice should have been firm, strong, authoritative. She was an adult, he was just a teenager. Her voice alone should have put him in his place. But it was not firm or strong or authoritative. It was trembling along with her throat, along with the rest of her body.

He did not answer her question. Instead, he pressed his lips against hers.

The rage. This is what could have helped.

She tried to back away, but there was really no room for that where she was standing. She pulled back violently. Fear and not rage. Fear. Not rage.

She pulled her had back violently.


His cheek went red. She has never hit her son with this much force. She was never enraged at her son. No. She was never scared of her son. She was never scared like this.

Jeremy smiled.

"That's just my cue, Ms. Evans, I believe."

His... cue?

Her head snapped back when the flash before her eyes exploded out of nowhere. He hit her. Then he hit her again, with his open hand. Once, twice, three times. Her head bounced right, left and right. No, this could not be happening. This could never happen.

"You like it when I hit you?" asked Jeremy. His voice was unbelievably calm. Confidential even, like they were secret lovers, hiding their passion from the world.

"You... You... animal!!!! Leave me alone THIS INSTANT!!!"

Her words carried the command with them, but her voice sounded more like a plea.

"Oh, no, Ms. Evans, that would be no fun, no fun at all, would it?"

He grabbed her hair and pulled her head to the back. His lips pressed against hers once again, but this time he was not kissing her. This could not be a kiss, no one has ever kissed her like this. He forced his tongue through her lips, pressed together tightly, pulled her hair savagely until she allowed him to French-kiss her. He used his teeth on her lips, biting her as if he wanted to bite them off. He pressed her against the wall, pushing his crotch into her, he pulled her hair hard, he breathed hard, he was hard all over.


As soon as her mouth was free she was screaming at him. But Jeremy kept his calm. Holding her tightly pressed against the wall, he took a handful of fabric of her dress and looked straight into her eyes. Then he made one violent move.


The sound is frightening. She can hear it in her head. It burns through her mind. The sound of tearing fabric is frightening. Paralysing.


He tore her dress off in one violent move. There was nothing, there was nothing like this that she ever felt before. Complete helplessness, complete and utter shame. She was more naked in front of him than she was ever naked before. Naked, in her underwear, in front of a violent, strong big teenager that was her son's friend.

She covered her breasts with her arms, but Jeremy had other plans. Her arms were pushed to the side, her bra was torn off her body.

Now she was screaming. No more words, there was nothing to be said and nothing that would make any sense. There was no sense. There was just panic. She knew now. She knew. The word formed in her mind. She knew what he would do. She knew what he would do to her.

She was screaming.

Then he hit her again. This time it was with more force. It felt as if he was losing control. It felt as if he really wanted to hurt her this time.

"Shut the fuck up!!! Shut the fuck up, bitch!! Do you want all your neighbours to bang on your door, eh?"

"Jeremy!", she was gasping for breath. The pain and the fear were taking over, yet the fact that he addressed her gave her some hope. That she could talk with him. That they could talk this over. That she could convince him not to... Not to.

"Jeremy, stop it please, please" When did she start crying? Her face was wet from tears. It must have been after he hit her again. Yes, must have been then. "Please, Jeremy, you don't know what you're doing."

Jeremy took one of her nipples between his fingers and twisted it savagely.


"Don't fucking tell me I don't know what I'm doing, bitch!!" he twisted the nipple to the other side. "Do you hear me? Don't fucking tell me I don't know what I'm doing. I know perfectly well, do you hear me? And you know what? I know what you're doing too!"

"no.." He was hurting her. He was going to... He was...

"no, please, please, I am begging you, stop it, please, let's talk about this, please" The words raced one another, stumbling over her tongue and lips, hurrying to gush forth, hurrying to reason with her tormentor. "please, don't you understand, I could be your mother, please Jeremy."

Jeremy took hold of her breast and squeezed it brutally. She cried in pain.

"Ms. Evans, you could NOT be my mother. My mother does not dress and act like a slut. My mother is not a sex- hungry whore like you. So shut up and get ready to be fucked the way you only dreamed of."

With these words, he started forcing her to turn her face against the wall.


The taste of bile in her mouth is a blessing. It erases the taste that is making her hate herself.

She struggled. She did. He wanted to have her from behind. She struggled.


"Jeremy, no, please, you're mad, how do you think you'll get away with this? Please, PLEASE, STOP IT!!!"

The words were something she should have thought about sooner, weren't they? He was a child, her son's friend. Her son knew his family, her son visited his home. How did he think he'd get away with this?

"And you'll do what? Ha?" he grabbed her lower jaw with his big, strong hand and pulled her face towards his. As he spoke with rage and lust, tiny drops of his saliva ended falling on her face. "What are you going to do, bitch? Tell me!! Are you going to tell your husband and your son how you acted like a slut in front of me? Are you going to explain to the hubby how his respected, church-going wife goes around teasing her son's friends? Are you going to tell him that he should fuck you a lot harder and a lot more often than he apparently does and that THAT might prevent you from acting like a whore in front of schoolboys?"

He pushed her to the floor, violently. He started unbuttoning his combat trousers.

"Is that what you're going to tell him? Is that how you'll explain this to your son when he learns you have fucked his friend?" He pulled the trousers down and his boxers went down with them. His massive erection surfaced.

She was crying. Her throat was tightened, hurting, spasms making her voice be barely heard. Choking on her own shame, on her own kitchen floor.

"I thought so. Now let's see some of that pussy, Ms. Evans."

When her hands grabbed her panties shame stepped back and the fear kicked back in again. Good old fear, good old friend panic. Stripped. Not only of her clothes and her dignity. She was stripped of humanity, she was an animal, kicking and screaming as he preyed upon her. No words, just screaming and screaming and screaming.

He was about to rape her, in her own home. This boy was going to rape her and there was no one in the world who could help her.


More spasms but nothing else to throw up, she spits on the floor in pitiful effort.


"I said SHUT UP, bitch!!!" Twice more his hands slapped her face. "I don't need your neighbours over here, I am a shy boy. I am sure they know by now what kind of a slut their soccer-mom neighbour is anyway."

But she couldn't. Not that he could understand it. He was the predator, she was the prey. How could he understand? She carried on screaming not because she wanted. The pain from the slaps only made her scream louder.

"Right, you were asking for this, whore!! I tried to be reasonable with you and we could have had fun, but you seem eager to spoil all the fun."

He pinned her to the floor, pressing her down with his knee and his hand grabbed her face brutally once again. She shook her head violently, but there was nowhere to escape. Jeremy pushed her torn panties into her mouth, all of them, pushed them in with his fingers.

"That's a lot better now, eh, slut? A lot better. With that annoying noise out of the way we can finally concentrate on pleasure."

She carried on screaming. How could she not? How could she stop? Only now it did not matter. It did not matter to anyone, Jeremy the least. Only muffled pleas for mercy came through as his large body pressed her to the floor. She felt as helpless and fragile as never before in her life while he was adjusting his position on her. Her arms and legs were free but there was nothing she could do. Nothing. His weight alone was enough to keep her down, firmly under his control.

She turned her head back, tried to look into his eyes, saliva soaking the fabric of the panties in her mouth as the silent screams went on. She tried to look into his eyes and send him one final plea for mercy. But on his face she saw only lust. Nothing else. His smile was a smile of a man enraptured as he was struggling for a better position on top of her.

Yes. He was going to rape her. Like an animal, from behind. He put his hand on the back of her head and pushed her face down on the kitchen floor.

"Oooh, Ms. Evans, I know you'll love this!!! I know how much you dreamed of this moment. Let's make it special for both of us, shall we?"

With these words, he penetrated her. His large, hard penis started slamming into her with animalistic passion as his hips rocked back and forth.


Oh God, oh God, oh God. Why, why, why, why, why? On the floor, in the kitchen. In her home.


Pressing her against the floor, he sweated and growled as his erection impaled her.

"Fucking bitch, fucking dirty slut, I knew you'd be this hot.. Oh FUCK, I should have fucked you sooner, I knew you wanted this the first time I saw you, bitch."

He was pulling out almost all of his length then slamming violently back into her. She pressed her eyelids tightly together, screaming into her gag, begging heavens for this to come to a quick end. His right hand found its way under her and grabbed her breasts.

"You slutty, slutty girl, look at your tits!! You like them squashed like this, don't you? Don't you Ms. Evans?"

She tried shaking her head but the pain he was causing her made her whole body thrash beneath him.


No. The only word she could think of. The only word she could scream into the gag. And he couldn't hear it. It is too late now, yet she repeats it, her throat hurting from whispered plea. If only it could go back in time.

"no... no... no..."


No. No. No. But no sound she could make was loud enough to be heard against Jeremy's groaning.

"Ohh, Ms. Evans, your cunt is so fucking hot, you are going to make me cum so fucking hard. You fucking slut, does your husband know how eagerly you fuck young innocent boys?"

Crying from shame she was praying for him to finish. She just wanted this to end before he could hurt and humiliate her more.

When he pulled out of her, her thoughts raced. This is it. He is done. Please, God, please, make him come, please. Please.

She felt him adjust his position on top of her. He pushed her head to the floor once again, and spread her bottom cheeks.

"You know, Ms. Evans, I've never fucked such a hot slut before. And you know what else? I have never fucked any slut in the ass."

His words left her breathless. Her heart stopped. No, no. No, he couldn't... he couldn't, no, no, no, he couldn't, he couldn't.

"I bet you just loooove to have your ass fucked, don't you, Ms. Evans? Every slut loves her ass banged with a nice hard cock, doesn't she? You want me to tear your asshole apart with my cock, don't you?"

Her body shook hard and then she lost control.

"Oh GOD! Oh, GOD, you dirty fucking SLUT!!!!"


It hurt when he hit her. He was truly enraged, he hit her several times, not even looking where his slaps fell. But the pain was temporary and miniscule, compared to the shame she still feels.


"You bitch, you dirty fucking bitch, I don't believe you pissed yourself!!! Fucking whore, you do this just to piss me off, don't you" He hit her several times, over the face and then pulled her head back.

"Listen to me." His voice was low now, his mouth pressed to her ear. "Listen to me, I know how bad you need my cock in your ass right now and this is the only reason I won't beat you senseless for pissing yourself like this. Do you understand?" he turned her head violently towards his face so that she could look into his eyes.

"I asked you a question. Do you understand?" The threat in his voice was deep. She closed her eyes. She trembled so hard she thought she would faint.

Then she nodded once, twice, three times. She wanted to make sure he got the message. Yes. She understood.

"Good, I am glad you understand how caring I am being. Now let's get down to business."


He hurt her in more ways she could ever think of. And to him, it was just a game. This is what hurt the most. He joked through it, he acted upon his fantasies and had her all the ways he wanted. This is the pain she feels right now, sobbing on the floor.


He slammed into her anus with such force that she thought he'd literally rip her apart. Her eyes almost burst out of her sockets as she screamed into the gag, feeling his thick penis impale her tight hole.

"Ooooh, whore, you are tight, aren't you? I bet you have fucked hundreds of men this way, so that means you are making it tight just for my pleasure, right? I hope you are enjoying it as much as I do."

The pain and humiliation were battling for supremacy. The veins on her neck and forehead were thick and red with blood as she screamed and screamed from pain and shame. There was no room on the floor to get away from his savage pounding, yet she was trying, pushing her hips into the tiles.

"That's it, baby, rock me, you know daddy likes it that way!!! Come on, make daddy cum!!!!"

She didn't know how long he raped her anally like that, the time itself bent and lost meaning as his body on hers rocked with foul pleasure and effort. Then, suddenly, he was out of her.


There are more ways to break a human being than one can think of. She knows that now. Broken, inhuman as she is now.


"I said GET ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES!!! NOW, slut!!!!"

He grabbed her hair and pulled her to her knees, holding his penis in his other fist.

This. This must be it. He is finished. Please, sweet lord, make him be finished.

Jeremy stuck his fingers into her mouth and pulled the wet ball of fabric out. Before she could take one deep breath, he pushed his penis savagely in.

"Ohh, yes, baby, you think I'd miss the opportunity to fuck your pretty face? Now, you must know me better than that." He forced his flesh brutally deep into her mouth and down her throat, grabbing her head from behind. She thought she'd choke as her gag reflex activated.

"Yeah, bitch, I'll fuck your mouth last. AFTER I have fucked your cunt and your ass."

He pulled out of her just before she thought she was going to throw up. She spat and coughed and struggled to breathe, but he grabbed her head again and stuck his penis back into her mouth.

"And you know why? Because I know you were DYING to taste your own ass on my cock!!! Because you are just that kind of a dirty whore"

He moved his hips back and forth, getting deeper down her throat with every subsequent move.

"Oh, that's it, bitch, that's it, I knew we'd cooperate beautifully, you were born for this, baby, you were born to be a whore, to be raped and facefucked, I wish I had a camera to show your hubby how much you're enjoying yourself."

She was trying to push his body back, but against him, she was like a child trying to fight a bear. He was having her the way he wanted, raping her, choking her, mocking her.

He spat on her face and used his fingers to rub the spit into her skin. He pulled out of her mouth and spat into it. Then he pushed his penis back in.

"That's beautiful baby, no whore has sucked my cock the way you do. You are making me jealous of your hubby who gets this kind of thing all the time."

His movements became quicker, more nervous, less controlled, as he was nearing his climax. Her nose was buried into his bush every time he pushed in, his scrotum hitting her chin. His hands held her head firmly in place. The smell of his sweat was overwhelming.

"Did you cum yet, baby? Ha?"

The cruelty human beings are capable of. Jeremy started moaning from pleasure, his penis twitching.


Jeremy pulled out and she barely had time to close her eyes before the first load of thick, white semen hit her face.

"Ahhhh, ahhh, you fucking whore, take it, take it all!!!!"

He was ejaculating with no end, spraying her face, neck, breasts and hair with his load. This was an eruption, a loud, red exclamation mark at the end of his savage performance.

She hit the floor hard when he pushed her back. He was done.

He was done.

She lied down. He was done. He will be gone now. Yes.

"Well, bitch, I have to say, you have lived up to the expectations and then some. I hope I was as good as in your fantasies."

He pulled his trousers up. But he didn't button them up.

"Only one thing more."


"I have to punish you for pissing yourself. I didn't like that and you got away with it just because I am a nice guy and didn't want to interrupt our lovemaking to teach you a lesson. So, here's the lesson now"

Holding his softening penis with his fingers, Jeremy aimed at her face.


No. No. No. No. Nobody. Nobody.


He left her in the pool of his own urine. It was on her face, in her hair, in her nostrils, in her mouth. He was in no hurry as he was getting dressed.

"You know what the funny thing is? I bet you even liked me pissing all over you. I am sure you dreamed of this, didn't you?"

She lied on the floor, her eyes shut. No words, no moves.

"Don't feel like talking, eh? Say no more, I'll leave you to sort out your impressions."

Casually he made for the door. Then he turned around again.

"You know, next time, I think I'll bring some friends. It's not that I doubt my own capacities when it comes to pleasuring even such an insatiable whore like you, you know, but I wonder how you'll react when you get two or more kids to fuck all your holes at the same time and then piss all over your slutty face.. Hmmm I MUST remember to bring a camera next time. Good bye, Ms. Evans, We'll get back together soon."

He left and then the silence came.

She lied on the floor. Without a sound. The tears, the semen, the urine hurting more than the real damage to her broken body could ever hurt. She lies on the floor. Without a sound.



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