Prison-Rape

Prison Rape

Silence. The type of silence that is ringing in your ears. Alice is in a small room, in a basement, on a mattress. Face down. Kneeling with her hands behind her back, blind-folded. Awaiting the prison guard just as he told her to.

Feeling uneasy, hesitant, scared.

Upstairs door opens and locks behind someone. Distant footsteps are getting louder going down the stairs. Door opening. Someone is approaching her.

Stern lowered voice. Breathing right into her ear. A rough touch. Not asking for a permission, dictating her to submit, be quiet, listen and abide. Alice never submits… She’s going to fight. Not allow this intruder touch her, take her, invade her world… She’s tense and ready to struggle.

A sound of handcuffs enclosing her wrists, Mirza pushing her down – holding her neck. Making it almost impossible for her to move. Alice still struggles to get out of his hands, escape his touch. “Don’t you even think of moving or making a sound”, he says. “I have a sharp tool in my hand – I’ve been known to draw blood before.”

Alice is feeling sharp metal pointed wheel around her neck, nipples, rolling down to stomach, thighs, labia, making a circle around clitoris. She’s now still. Afraid to even breathe. Who knows what this crazy guard has on his mind today, he really does not seem to value a human life…

“Good”, says Mirza “that’s how I like you – quiet and obedient.” He tries to touch her vaginally, getting closer to her clitoris. She’s squirming away. “I don’t like feeling that you don’t want my touch,“ he says and Alice hears a loud sound of a swoosh in the air – so close to her body. Another one – feeling the air moving. And again – this time – a flogger hitting her thighs, breasts, nipples.

Pain. Resistance. Putting up resistance while encountering a painful, unfair situation, out of her control. Fighting. Tensing up. Not accepting reality. Alice knows all about being in this head space. Putting up a wall. A fence… Prison bars? The truth is – whatever a situation is, if it’s outside of your control… Resisting it makes it even harder. Adds an extra level of pain.

He’s physically dominating her. Holding her down, touching her. She’s intensely feeling his touch all over her body – goose bumps on her skin, shivering yet holding as still as possible. She’s not in control. Imprisoned. Unable to see, speak, move.

Alice is torn inside – she’s so extremely aroused sexually, almost as strongly as emotionally lost. He’s touching her, making her cum. She’s not even in control of her own orgasms. “The best cries are silent”, says Mirza watching her cum as silently and as still as she possibly could.

And suddenly an internal shift happens. A feeling of helplessness overwhelms her. Tears start running down her cheeks. She’s submitting. Accepting the inevitable. Allowing the violence to take place. Surrenders to his touch. His will. Feeling and taking in what it really means to give up a flight. Be objectified. Used.

Filing this as another intense sensual experience entry in her book of life.

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