Message-ID: <495eli$9704132322@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: Path: qz!news.accessus.net!not-for-mail X-Path-Preload: news.accessus.net preloaded to thwart rogue canceller there Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: From: MeredithP3@aol.com Subject: "Property Of" 1/8 "Property Of" by Meredith P. (MeredithP3@aol.com) M/F, F/F, NC, Extreme Violence "PROPERTY OF" by Meredith P. ((c) Mar. 1997) WARNING! ADULTS ONLY! WARNING! Readers are advised that they must be a minimum of twenty-one years of age to read this story and that the following work is an example of erotic fiction containing adult themes and graphic descriptions of both consensual and nonconsensual sex acts as well as extreme violence. Every element of this story, including the characters, are fictitious and entirely the product of the authors imagination. Caution: Do not read this story unless you are certain you have your governments permission to do so. NOTICE: THIS IS ABSURD FANTASY. DON'T TRY ANY OF THIS AT HOME. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My daddy was fond of saying, "The first few rows in the front in any church are reserved for the people who are going straight to hell. Be careful where'ya sit." Chapter l Try seeing it her way. "Are you sure this what you want Mr. Hayes?" my attorney asked. "Miss. Van Horn, I'm sure I don't want it. I'm also sure I have no choice." "I must state once again for the record that I do not agree with what is occurring here. I would have gone to the highest authorities in the state to report this arrangement myself, if it were not for the fact that your mother and I were such close friends. It is in deference to her memory that I'm doing this. It is not for you! I want you to know that I find the whole damn thing and everyone involved in it quite despicable! What is wrong with the young men and women these days? Things like this didn't happen when in my day. I implore you Robert for the last time, please, lets go to the proper authorities with this matter." she said. "And spend twenty years of my life in a cage? No thanks!" "You know Robert, the law serves the accused as well as the victim." There she goes with that victim crap again! Whose lawyer is she I wondered. A woman says she was raped and that's fucken it! A female says she was forcibly fucked and it becomes an indisputable fact. A terrible crime has been committed and the only thing left is to punish the first male she happens to point at. For those not pointed at, male or female, there are terrible risks for even questioning the allegation. As soon as she says the word it becomes a manhunt. Some fat cop says, "Tell us who did this to you honey" and anything goes. And anything works. A "not guilty" verdict is always reported as a serious miscarriage of justice. A damnable travesty! Our whorish politicians sense the cheap gains to be had, while the timid populace obediently thinks as they're entertained to do so. The fanatics won't be satisfied till everyone save themselves is declared and punished as a hopeless criminal. Their allied cowards meanwhile, desperately pray time will spare them, and if there're really lucky, their children as well. It's always so much safer to go along. There had been a half dozen meetings between her lawyer and mine in the past six weeks. How did I get in this stupid mess? She says I sodomized her. I say she blew me. I had seen her a few times before in the clubs downtown. She was the kind'a chick that me and my friends call a "headache". Every guy knows the type, mid thirties, very thin, small, meatless tits and a joggers face. Her father had paid a fortune for her MA degree from some ivy-league diploma mill in some ridiculous field like ancient Mayan dinner party themes. She demands she's a professional while she's been nothing but an "executive assistant" for the past ten years and hasn't yet realized exactly what that means. They always admit to being a reformed man hater who now likes "some" men, while desperately trying to deny the fact that their best days are behind them. She's the kind'a cunt whose pissed at her mother because her mother's angry at her for never having been married. The bane of family holidays! Like I said, a fucken "headache", but at two a.m. she was a "headache" with a warm pussy! I hoped. I had charmed my way into her little black heart and then back to her even smaller barbie style apartment. We where as drunk as a whore and her sailor. For a while I listen to her stupid "I'm going to become a writer" bullshit while drinking a few beer mugs of her favorite cheap wine. At some point though, you have to let them know they're boring you. Right? OK, so it's a kids game, but it's better than listening to her expensively paid for ramblings. It's childish. It's the nineties, may they burn in hell. And it always works. "Look at the time! I really should be going. I think you're a pretty neat lady. I'd really like to take you out sometime. That is, if you'd want too?" "Oh, do you have to go?" "Not if you don't want me to?" The little wrestling match that we had on the living room floor seemed to me like the kind of foreplay some chicks like before the surrender. She didn't fight too hard, neither of us could. We were both too drunk. I remember a few of her overly acted protestations being interrupted by a more than few of her adolescent giggles. She even complained when I called time out to get some more wine. I was drunkenly trying to unhook her bra while sloppily kissing her little wind worn nose. I thought she was trying to progress matters when she showed me it was a front lock. We both laughed at the silliness of it all. Nothing but green lights all the way. Every guy knows the game of pushing a girls head down on his crotch. It's arm against neck, and penis always wins. It's an old custom, faithfully observed by both genders. It lets a girl act like a slut while not admitting to anyone that she willingly sucked a penis. Even more crucial is the fact that she doesn't have to admit it even to herself. This way she can't be held responsible. Now, she can honestly lie to herself that she didn't like doing it. That's always the most important thing. I learned early on that females are very self-deluding creatures. In my thirty-one whore hunting years, I've come to understand that men rely heavily on this little psychological quirk, while women, absolutely depend on it. And the whole time neither sex dares admit it. My temporary girlfriend said she had never sucked-off a guy before. At first she just took the head into her mouth and just knelt there, motionless, staring stupidly at my pubic hair. It slowly dawned on her that she missing something. While it may have been her first blowjob, it turned out to be my first oxymoron. People who don't know say there's such a thing as a bad blowjob. Bullshit! Her damn teeth were the culprits. I actually had to concentrate to enjoy it. Like most guys, I consider myself a real trooper in these situations, so I stuck it out. "What am I supposed to do?" she asked, not bothering to clear her mouth of the obstruction. I resisted the temptation to laugh and pretended I didn't hear the question. She figured it out all by herself and slowly got the swing of it but stopped again just as I started enjoying myself. "I don't think I want to do this." I ignored her little complaints and made no attempt to disengage. Sometimes the only way to teach someone to swim is to..... you know. Practice! She pretended she didn't say it either and resumed. Nobody would ever call this girl an accomplished cocksucker but her halfhearted persistence finally produced results. She looked genuinely surprised when I shot half of my load into her mouth. She quickly recoiled from the first shot and took the rest of my sperm all over her shocked face. She appeared to be stunned. Not saying anything she gave me a confused kind'a look and closed her eyes. My date began choking on the sperm in her mouth while dripping gobs of it from the her face. She spit out what she hadn't swallowed into her wine glass and then got real still. I'll never forget the look on her puss. The tears, the mascara and the semen were smeared all over her face. It wasn't pretty. Her shivering and quiet whimpering were the first hint that she that she may have changed her mind. No matter what I said she just stared down at the floor and wouldn't look up. "why did you make me do that? why did you hurt me?" Oh boy, here we go! I remembered thinking, stay cool dude, we've seen this before. I didn't think I did anything wrong, it's what you get for doing a headache I thought. I knew I had to find a way to calm her down. Every guy knows females have their own strange little rituals. You just have to let them play themselves out. Shit! Women can't even explain'em. I'd play along for a while then leave. I always hated this part. I tried to talk to her. She just sat in the middle of the floor with her favorite afghan held tightly around herself and sobbed. She wouldn't respond to anything I said, it was like I was talking to a mannequin. I began to get a little nervous. I told her I thought it was OK, she never said stop, I never forced her. She interrupted her whimpering long enough to tell me, "You ripped my good bra." Her whimpering turned to outright crying. Then she said it. "Why did you force me to do that? I don't believe what you did! I think you actually raped me! You bastard you!" Don't panic Robert old boy, above all don't let on you're getting nervous. Try to disarm the situation. Any man in my place thinks quickly, she knows she could say anything she wants and she knows she'll be believed. How many guys have had their lives ruined just on the word of some hysterical bitch? I didn't need this shit. It's true, there really is no such thing as free pussy. I thought about using the proven tactic of proposing a second "date", a movie or something, to make her think I really was interested in her but decided against it. I didn't enjoy our first date all that much. I decided on ignoring the situation as the best means of defusing it. "Hey calm down. You've gotten yourself all upset over nothing." By way she reacted to my touching her shoulder you would have thought I had given her an electric shock. We both let the sound of the TV takeover the room while waiting for her next move. I guess she couldn't figure out what she wanted, so we waited a long while. Trying to break the stalemate, I got up to get her a glass of water and a wet towel. "Where you going? You're not leaving are you?" Their was a hint of panic in her voice. I knew I was home free! If she really thought I had raped her she would be running bare-ass naked down the street shouting at the top of her lungs. You don't ask the guy that just raped you to stick around awhile longer, right? Fucken women! "It's four thirty in the morning Gail, I think we could both use some sleep. Maybe we can do something tomorrow, a movie or something. I'd like that." Robert Hayes is one silver tongued, lying, son of a bitch. She didn't say anything but her sad eyes brightened a little. "Goodnight honey, I'll call you later." "really bobby?" .... "promise?" she said between sniffles. That sad puppy eyed expression she wore in the middle of that messy face could have melted the heart of a dead man. I smiled back sincerely, "I promise." and then I booked. Robert Hayes is not only a lying, son of a bitch, he's also a cad. I left and I never called. Hell! I wasn't going to let some hysterical split-tail play mind games with me! Who does that cunt think she is anyway. I never mentioned it to anyone. About two months later I received a registered letter from a lawyer. The lawyer said she was representing a rape victim. The girl who was raped was a "promising professional" named Gail Summers, whose life had been "devastated" by the event. I was the rapist. The fact that Ms. Summers had waited so long before reporting the horrible incident was due to her "traumatized emotional state". It seems her damaged psyche was just one the many serious injuries I had "brutally inflicted" on the poor girl. Yet, in spite their "utmost certitude of prevailing in a criminal proceeding", the gracious and ever accommodating Ms. Summers was willing to seek other means of gaining satisfaction. It would be a civil action rather than a criminal complaint. Was I interested? Would I rather have the police involved? Did I have a fucken choice? I thought I did. The proposition that I was about to ratify was slow in developing. At first, all they said they wanted money, but I didn't have any. I offered to move away and never return but they could not see any satisfaction in that. In spite of their constant demand for negotiation, they continually stated that it look like a criminal prosecution and a long prison term was the only practical alternative. Unless I could think of something else, something "substantial", they we're going o the police. On the advice of my attorney, we played their game. My lawyer told me "they can't get blood from a stone." Through Van Horn I let them know I wanted very much to avoid a criminal proceeding. What I really meant was that I could neither afford the expense nor the predetermined outcome. My attorney advised them that we were, plain and simply, out of things to offer. She was confident they were bluffing. The other attorney's reply was a hypothetical and rather curious proposal , but I see now it set a precedent. My supposed "victim's" lawyer was a dyke by the name of Murray. She said she wanted to ask us first for our reaction before she presented the idea to her client. For what ever her reason, the woman seemed to be trying to help me. The person I paid to question why, didn't. She asked Van Horn "Do you think your client be willing to have a vasectomy performed, if that would be enough to satisfy Ms. Summers?" Murray explained it would offer her client only a symbolic victory but it seemed that was all that could be had given my meager resources. My reluctant benefactor said she just wanted to get the whole thing over with, her client wasn't rich either. I remember my reaction when Van Horn told me. "She wants what!! You can't be serious! What kind of a lunatic are we dealing with? In a panic, I agreed. A day later Murray informed Van Horn that her client had rejected the idea "out of hand" as insufficient and just plain ridiculous. Murray apologized and said Gail Summers had decided she wanted to send me to prison and be done with it. Her client couldn't think of any other way to resolve the situation. Murray said she still hoped that wouldn't happen but she wasn't thinking about my welfare. She said she didn't want to put such a fragile girl through such an intense ordeal as a rape trial. It could cause further harm to her client's delicate mental condition. Murray said she would work on her client to get her to see reason. I didn't know it then but Murray was just playing the good cop game. Murray knew she had all the cards, she was good at her job. My lawyer wasn't good at anything. We leapt at every piece of bait thrown our way. I found myself offering everything. I found myself offering anything. They always came back and said it wasn't enough. It looked like I was going to a kangaroo court and then to prison for something I didn't do. Van Horn tried discussing the idea of coping a plea with the D.A. but I wouldn't listen. I was determined not to end up like my brother Eddie. I planned to run if I had to. At what was supposed to be the last meeting, when the negotiations where to end, Murray made a passing comment. Her client had told her she wished the case was being tried in one of those backwater countries you only hear about on the news. "They have there own way of dealing with such matters." Van Horn stepped right into it. "And what would that be?" she asked . "Once a rapist is convicted, he was usually sentenced to a quick death." Murray confessed even she thought that was a bit excessive. "However, the criminal can escape the death penalty and even jail for that matter, but only if the women he raped would be willing to accept a little bloodletting to avenge her honor. The rapist must request himself and the victim must give her consent." Van Horn came in right on cue. "Bloodletting? What do you mean by a little bloodletting?" Murray first distanced herself from her answer by telling Van Horn she was not making any such kind of ridiculous offer and she then explained the curious foreign custom. Upon hearing what she had to say Van Horn was shocked that a fellow member of the Bar would be playing such sport. She didn't appreciate the arrogance of a young whippersnapper playing mind games with a seasoned professional either. Van Horn got seriously insulted. She intended report the incident to the Ethics Panel the moment I was found guilty. My lawyer ended the meeting warning Murray that her client had better be prepared to be exposed as both a "congenital liar" and a "hopeless strumpet". They both knew it wouldn't happen that way. Afterwards Van Horn told me everything, including the fact that I should be prepared to be arrested on a rape charge. She also told me about Murray's strange comment. The old lawyer in her thought her opposite was talented but very undisciplined. "She's the kind of lawyer that thinks she can play mind games with the opposing attorney, ..... even with someone like me, ....... really very juvenile!" Always be afraid when your lawyer begins representing herself. I asked her, "When do you think the police will pick me up?" "Be prepared to have it happen at any time, it could even happen today. You should know that the police like to make a show of these things. You must try to be calm when it happens. Ms. Murray said she would give me the courtesy of calling right after they make the complaint. I'll see if I can arrange a voluntary surrender, that way I can go with you." I wasn't going to run until I heard from Van Horn, maybe it was all a bluff. The next week was pure torture. Every knock on my door would send my heart racing, I became a total wreck. I decided to make my once every so often trip to visit my brother Eddie a little early. I thought it might be my last chance see him for a long time. My brother Eddie is an inmate at the Down State Correctional Center, he's been there for almost two years. My big brother got fifteen to twenty on a "possession with intent to dispute". It was his second offense and the judge threw the book at him. Eddie wasn't just my older brother, he was also my best friend and he was a lot more street wise than I was. I needed his advice. Eddie looked terrible, he always did. Prison was killing him and it showed. We exchanged what pleasantries we could between the plexiglas wall. We were both the only family the other had and I usually spent the time trying to cheer him up but not today. I guess he could tell by the way I was acting, he knew something was wrong. I told him about the girl and the pending rape charge. He didn't hold his punches. "Run Bobby. Run as fast as you can, don't let them catch you!" "You don't know what prison is like. You don't want to know!" I gave him a stupid look. "Yeah, you're not too smart are you kid? They'll get'ya sooner or later." I told him about the all the lawyer shit during the past couple months. I left out Murray's sick tactics. "Do anything you have to bro, just don't come here." He was serious and I listened closely. "Did you know your brother's a cock sucker, kid?" "What the hell are you talking about?" I asked him. "Kid, your big brother sucks cock so he won't get beat up." He let that sink in for a few seconds. "Listen. The first year I was here I got raped a half dozed times and beat-up a whole lot more times than I can remember. And you know what? Nobody fucken cared!" He looked down. "I got someone to protect me now. He doesn't let anyone else pick on me." He looked me in the eye and gave me a sad smile. "All I have to do suck his dick and let him fuck me whenever he wants." This was Eddie my big brother talking, he was always a tough guy. Eddie wouldn't suck anyone's dick! "Sometimes he tells me to suck his friends dick, and I do it." "Sometimes he bets a blowjob in a poker game. If he loses, I do it." "That's the way it is in prison, it's not homo stuff, it's just the way things are. Everyone here finds a way to survive, or they don't." This wasn't the brother I knew. I didn't tell him of Murray's proposal. "Eddie, would you let them cut your balls off, I mean, if it would get you out'a here? He wasn't the least bit curious about the question. I guess he thought I was trying to ask him how bad prison really was. He volunteered it himself, I knew he was being honest. "Kid, I'd let them cut off my balls and my dick! Shit! I'd cut'em off myself if I thought it would get me out of this hellhole. Time served, dicks sucked and balls gone, just let me out! ..... I'd do it in a fucken second!" We spent the rest of the time talking but not listening. We both had our own problems to deal with. As I was leaving he told me "Don't send me any postcards. They'll be looking for that shit! Good luck bro." That night I called Van Horn at her home and asked her if she had heard anything from Ms. Murray. The answer was no. I think I was a bit out of it, from lack of sleep probably, I told Van Horn to contact Murray and tell her "I would do anything to end this". I wanted to see just how far they wanted to take this thing. "Tell'em I'd even have the operation if that's what they want!" Van Horn reminded me that they had already rejected Murray's vasectomy idea. "Tell them I would be willing to have the "big" operation if that's what it would take. See if they're serious. See what they say!" Van Horn asked me "are you really willing to be castrated?" "I don't know." I said. Van Horn refused to do it. I had to remind her I was the client and it was my life we we're talking about. I think she did it out of curiosity more than anything else. Murray said it was crazy. She said it was sick. She said she would ask her client. She called the next day and said it was deal. Our little game of bluff and counter-bluff found a momentum of its own. My layer and I were just along for the ride. Murray called again the following day and said there were problems. Minor details that they would insist upon. "Nothing major." This went on for a week. Each time she came back she upped the ante just a bit. Murray was shrewd, she didn't make any big moves. It was all very incremental. And now Van Horn was making a last ditch attempt to talk me out of it. She knew I didn't have a chance in court. Gail Summers knew I didn't have a chance. I knew I didn't have a chance. It's the way these things are handled today. The accused must always be guilty or the whole premise is wrong. My lawyer was willing to have me to spend the next twenty years of my life in hell so she can play her important role in this sick society. The fact that I didn't do anything wrong didn't matter to her or anyone else. It didn't seem to be an issue. At the beginning of this whole thing I asked her to look me in the eye and tell me the truth will prevail. She couldn't do it. "I have to be brutally honest with you." Van Horn said, "Considering the absence of tangible evidence, you will almost certainly be convicted. It'll be your word against hers and the sympathy and the law will be on her side. The prosecutor doesn't have to prove you raped her, that's the assumption. All that they have to prove is that you where there. We on the other hand will have to prove you didn't do something, and that's extremely difficult. A few coached tears on the witness stand and you become the devil incarnate. Your own sister would gladly put the rope around your neck. Understand Robert, any female can ruin the life of any man she wants. All she has to do is scream and point! That's the way it is these days, jurisprudence in these matters has seemed to have taken a back seat to the political concerns. You probably would get a lengthy sentence, that's the norm these days. But, we both know that the real time served would be more like ten years, fifteen tops. Please Robert, lets talk to the District Attorney." "Why? I'm not guilty. Will she try to prove that?" "It's a prosecutors job to fill the governments prisons and coffers! That's how their success is measured. It's nothing personal. What I'm trying to make you understand is that justice is not a matter of guilt or innocence. It's not even a matter of right or wrong. Justice is what ever the law says it is, and the law today is in the possession of zealots, it's written to serve them. Anyone without money or influence had better realize this for their own good." She shuffled some papers around. "I know the District Attorney. She's a very hard women, but I think we can make some kind of deal with her." "Why can't we tell her what Summers and her lawyer wants to do to me. That's against the law, isn't it? They would be in a whole lot of trouble, right?" I added. "Listen to me Robert! Nowadays it's effectively legal for a woman to murder a man, .......... especially if it's her husband. All they have to do is say it was for revenge. Powerful groups promote their own agendas by defending them. That's why politicians all over the country are tripping over themselves to champion these killers. It's seen as smart politics. Now do you really think they would be charged with anything?" "Don't be absurd!" she answered for me. "The D.A. won't care Robert. She's really a politician, which means she's as much a captive of the situation as you are. She has to answer to her constituency, and it's not the public. Aspiring judges don't provoke their own power base, no matter what principles are involved." I really was stupid. I needed everything spelled out for me. "You want me to trust someone who would send an innocent man to jail or stand by while he's butchered for something he didn't do, just so she can become a judge? I thought there was some place where sanity always prevailed, somewhere the idea of truth and justice is taken seriously." I tried to not let on that I was pretty close to losing it. This wasn't really going to happen, was it? Van Horn had always gotten me out of these messes before. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /