She walked down the alley into the shadows, as she had been told to do. She could see nothing as the light slowly dwindled and the darkness took hold.  She wondered, why here?  Why had he told her to meet him in this filthy back alley?  Of all the places they could have met, all the places that would have been. . . safer, why did he want her walking down a deserted alley alone?

       That’s when she felt him there.  She couldn’t see him really, he was hidden in the shadows; but she felt him.  His was a presence that was unmistakable.  She stopped.  She waited.  She knew he would speak and reassure her and let her know she was safe.  She knew he wouldn’t leave her wondering and afraid.

       Or would he?

       The figure came out of the shadows so fast she didn’t have time to react.  She tried to turn, but was caught broadside and slammed into the brick wall.  As she tried to turn back to see her assailant, she felt his hand grasp a great bunch of her hair, and her face was pressed into the wall hard enough that her lip was cut by her front teeth.  A trickle of blood salted her mouth as she tried to open it to scream.

       “Shut the fuck up,” a deep, dangerous voice growled at her.

       The voice seemed to penetrate into her and release her worst fears.  It didn’t sound like him . . . or did it?  Her mind was befuddled by panic, she couldn’t tell, maybe. . . Was it him?  She wanted to cry.  He had scared her, if that was his intent; but it became very quickly apparent that was not his intent.  His hand grabbed the silk blouse she was wearing and ripped it open so that her tits fell free to the night air.

       She wanted to scream, to fight back, but she felt all limp inside.  All she really knew was that she wanted very badly to cry.  She wanted to sob and curl into a ball and wake up safe in bed. He laughed as he grabbed her tits and squeezed them.  It was an evil laugh of mockery and control and power. She blushed. Some hidden part of her, some part she denied, some deep-seated dark corner of her, some place she would never admit to in the light, liked it.

       He pinched her nipples and pulled them until she let out a little squeal, and then he laughed again and pressed her face harder against the wall.  His rough hand grabbed her ass and squeezed. She adjusted herself slightly so that his hand could grab her easier.  What the fuck am I doing? Her mind screamed at her.  She spread her legs slightly for him and tears began to flow, and she silently prayed, “Dear God, forgive me, I want to be taken.”

       His hand began to lift her silk skirt and found her bare ass.  He growled and laughed and made comments about sluts and thong panties . . . always being nearly ready to be fucked.  She blushed but said nothing in return.  His fingers pushed between her thighs, and he felt her wetness and heat.  He laughed and slapped her ass hard enough to make her squeal again.

       “I knew it. Watching you, I knew you wanted to get fucked. Fucking whore . . . watching you walk down the alley.  You were hoping, praying for someone like me, praying to be a fuck toy for the dark, weren’t you?”  He said in a viciously evil tone, chastising her like a little slut in heat.

       “Don’t deny it. Your cunt speaks the truth, see?”  He pressed two fingers against her pussy and pushed the cotton fabric of her thong up her slit.  “Wet. Slutty-assed wet cunt.”  He laughed and pinched her pussy lips hard enough that she groaned and shook.

       “See? Fucking whore, don’t try and be a dick tease with me.”  He growled and allowed her to push back from the wall an inch, and then slammed her back against it.  “Don’t fuck with me. Don’t think you can play with me.  Don’t think I won’t snap you in two just like a fricken doll if you piss me the fuck off.”

       She was shaking in fear as he spoke to her.  His voice was like razor wire across her mind.  She was slowly but surely being ripped apart by his words, slashed and torn until she couldn’t think any more. His fingers played with her harshly, rubbing her clit till it was nearly raw, and then he laughed.  Pushing the thong up her dry asshole and then laughing and telling her what a tight assed-bitch she was. She knew she was crying, but it didn’t seem to matter really; she was beyond the tears now.

       He grabbed the elastic band of the thong and gave a great pull.  The fabric held and didn’t relent, it stretched and dug into her flesh, the pain was intense.  Then finally it ripped; it sounded like thunder ripping through the sky to her as it finally let go and was torn away. The feel of cold air rushing in on her wet pussy lips was incredible, like a cold tongue licking at her.

       Now that she was exposed, he was not gentle at all.  He shoved three fingers deep into her cunt and began to finger fuck her hard and fast.  He was chuckling to himself the whole time as she fought against it, but could not stop herself from cumming again and again as he fucked her.  She sobbed and begged him to stop, but he kept fucking her harder and deeper.  She was actually being lifted by the force of his hand slamming into her each time.

       Her pussy hurt so badly.  It was agony, but then, as he started to slow, she surprised herself.  She was speaking without knowing she was.  That dark place in her had taken over. “One more, please . . . please . . . please,” she begged him.

       He laughed and slammed his hand into her so hard she screamed in pain; and then again and again.  She squirted cum all over his fingers and wrist as she came hard for him.  Her legs were like limp noodles, unable to hold her up any more but he held her in place by her hair.  She was crying and thanking him. How sick was she? She thanked him and shook and tried to recover, but she was too far gone.

       Next thing she knew, she was over a low dumpster.  Face first onto the filthy plastic lid, her ass exposed and cheeks spread by his big hands.  He was rubbing her cunt and then using her own cum to wet her asshole.  She was trying to fight back now, but her body seemed to be made of lead.  She cried and shook her head, and he slammed her face back down onto the lid hard and held her by her hair again.

       As she cried, he pressed his cock head against her asshole and pushed.  She squeezed her cheeks shut, but he slapped her ass hard and told her not to fuck with him.  She wept and released, lying there and not moving.  His cock head split her ass open, and she squealed.  She had never allowed a man to violate her in that way.  He was so big, it hurt; it was so alien feeling. She cried, and he thrust into her, and she screamed through the tears.

       Then, she felt herself relax.  The cock still hurt, but the pain was good.  It was so deep into her, so deep into her fantasies of being used.  He was fucking her hard and fast, and she began to press back against him.  Yes, she wanted to be violated.  She wanted to be used.  She urged him on as he fucked her. He was laughing and slapping her ass hard until she felt the heat burning through her from the spanking.

       He grabbed two handfuls of her hair and fucked into her as hard as he could.  The dumpster jolted forward with each thrust until it rested against the brick wall.  She screamed and spread her legs wider for him.  He pumped deep into her and then growled deep and low, and she felt an explosion of hot, sticky cum into her asshole.

       He kept cumming and cumming in her.  She felt like she would burst, she was so full.  He kept fucking her too, his cock ramming her with deep, hard thrusts with each blast of cum so that she felt herself squishing inside.  She cried and shook and she started to cum too.  She never knew a woman could cum from being fucked up the ass.  She shook hard and felt her body burn up.

       As his cock started to go soft, she had expected him to pull out, but he didn’t.  Instead, he pushed all the way into her and held still, pinning her in place with two handfuls of hair.  She tried to squirm and he laughed and pumped her ass one time.  Then he started to laugh an evil laugh that sent shivers of fear through her.  Next thing she knew, there was a hot torrent of liquid shooting into her ass.  It took her several seconds to realize he was filling her with his piss.  He laughed as she fought to get free, but was helpless to do so.  He laughed as he filled her up and squeezed out the last of his urine into her.

       He pulled out and stepped back, releasing her hair.  She instantly threw herself down to the ground and curled up in a ball, sobbing.  She felt so degraded, used, full of his fluids.  She was leaking out as she lay there crying, she couldn’t stop it.  She looked up at him and he was gone.

       The alley was empty except for the shadows.  She was left there, clothing tattered, a puddle of cum and piss underneath her, more leaking out of her, crying, shivering and full.  He had simply left her here.  She shook and trembled as she tried to sit up.  The sudden rush of fluids in her made her think this was not a good plan.  She stood anyway and squatted and purged herself as much as possible, praying no one would walk by the alley as she did.

       She gathered her torn clothing and pieced it together as best she could, trying to cover the vital areas.  Her own pussy was dripping cum still, her cum.  She wiped her eyes and tried to walk gracefully out of the alley.  She just had to make it to the car, then she would be fine.  If she could make it there, she would be safe.

       Headlights turned into the alley and blinded her. The driver had high beams on, and she squinted and tried to shade her eyes.  As she approached the car, she saw it was his car.  He was there waiting for her.  He was smiling.  It had been him all along.  She felt a wave of relief sweep over her and also anger.  She slammed the door open, making sure to hit it against the brick, wall.

       “What the fuck?” She screamed at him.

       “Jesus...sorry I’m a little late,” he replied and she stopped.  Maybe it wasn’t him.  Maybe . . . oh God.  She sat in the car, numb, unsure.

       “Sorry I’m late,” he said again.

       She turned and looked at him, looking for the slightest sign of jest.  He must see the state she was in, why didn’t he ask if it wasn’t him?  How could he not ask?  How could he not know?  She was confused.  Was it him, or not?

       He turned and looked at her, leaning over he kissed her cheek. “Baby, in the end, isn’t it better not knowing?” he asked.

       She looked back at him with amazement.  Maybe it was him.  Maybe it wasn’t.  Maybe it was just the alley, the shadows, the dark. But definitely, it was better in the end not really knowing. She closed the car door and they drove away.

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