While I’ve always had rough fantasies, and wanted to attract callers that do, I went back and forth about whether to actually use the word “rape” in my profile. It’s a highly charged word, and I worried that it might turn off the people who had rape fantasies but didn’t want to admit it. Eventually I realized that I had to say it directly – after all, if I couldn’t offer it, how could they ask for it? It was a good decision, I think, because many callers have mentioned specifically noticing it.
My first rape call was with a chatty, friendly guy who began by telling me that he usually speaks to Sally. This was a big clue for me. Sally is the barely-legal babe who just adores her Daddy. I resigned myself to another incest scene.
“How old is the girl in your fantasy?” I asked. He suddenly became uncertain, and stammered.
“16?” I asked.
Silence.
“It’s okay,” I coaxed. “14?”
“Yes,” he said softly, “14 is good.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “14.”
“It doesn’t have to be a Daddy thing,” he rushed to say. “Maybe a neighbor?”
I was enthusiastic about that idea, since neighbors are more to my taste than daddies. I started suggesting scenarios. He didn’t seem interested in catching the neighbor girl sunbathing, nor in helping with her homework.
“How about if you caught her peeking at you through your window?” I suggested.
Ah yes, he liked that.
“What would you be doing?” I asked. “Undressing?”
“No,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe looking at dirty pictures.”
He still seemed hesitant, though, and I wondered what he was embarrassed about.
“What if….”
He stopped.
“Yes?” I prompted, trying to sound warm and understanding.
“What if… when… we started getting… involved….”
He was having a lot of difficulty with this, which was surprising for a regular phone sex caller.
“What if… almost near the end… she… changes her mind?”
“Yes?” I asked, still waiting for the problem. He seemed surprised that I didn’t already get it.
“But what if I did it anyway?”
Ah, that was it. Rape.
“Yes,” I said cheerfully, “That would be fine.”
He sounded startled. “What do you mean, fine? That would be okay with you?”
“Sure,” I said. “In fact, I have lots of rape fantasies that I’ve never gotten to play with.”
He didn’t know what to make of this. I’m not sure he believed me.
“But… but… that’s wrong… and… I mean…”
“Karl,” I interrupted him. “Do you know the difference between fantasy and reality?”
“Of course I do!”
“And are you interested in really raping the neighbor’s kid?”
He sounded appalled. “Of course not! Oh my god, of course not.”
“So what’s the problem, then? Fantasy is fantasy.”
He took that in. “Do you really have…rape fantasies?”
“Really,” I assured him. And then I knew what I needed to do to convince him. “Let me tell you about one of them.”
And I did. I told him one of my oldest and darkest kidnap and rape fantasies, in enough detail to convince him that I wasn’t making it up on the spot. He was fascinated. And aroused. He particularly seemed to like the part when I got bent over a chair and caned.
We talked for a bit, and he started to sound more comfortable, so I said, “If I were there with you, and I was bent over a chair and totally helpless, what would you do to me?”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes!” I answered. “I’m at your mercy. I hate you. All I want is for you to let me go. But you’re not going to let me go, are you?”
“No…” he said quietly.
“Please, please….” I said equally quietly. I didn’t want to scare him. “Please let me go. I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt me.”
He moaned.
“You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”
He came alive, suddenly. “Oh, only… a lot.” And he laughed – a sexy, evil laugh. Immediately we were in the fantasy, and it was hot stuff.
He tied me up, caned me all down my thighs, then threw me on the bed, and re-tied my hands to the headboard. He straddled my chest and fucked my mouth, then lifted my feet, still bound together, and caned me again with my legs up. I begged and pleaded and sounding convincingly like I was crying, because I somehow almost was. And then when, in the fantasy, I was broken and unable to resist anymore, he cut the bonds on my ankles and raped me, repeatedly, harshly, and with great relish.
This was the first time I’d ever played out a truly non-consensual rape fantasy myself, and I was relieved to confirm that it turned me on as much as I’d expected. When it was over, he was stunned, because I laughed and told him how much fun it had been. And meant it. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that someone else could enjoy that fantasy with him – not just put up with it, but actually get into it with him.
I felt great about it.
I’ve had many other rape scenes since then, and some were easier than others. One guy wanted to be hiding in my closet as I was getting ready for bed, jump out and slap me around, cut my clothes off, and force me to do all manner of nasty things. (Comment from Trisha on the invoice: Ooh, did you get raped by Mr. Edwards, you bad girl?) Another guy wanted to watch a teenage Catholic schoolgirl take a nap. He undressed me in my sleep, fondling me until I woke up mostly naked with a strange man looming over me. Nice.
After a time, some rape fantasies became commonplace, even boring.Once I was supposedly tied facedown on the bed while the caller was describing what he was going to do to me. There was something about his voice that rubbed me the wrong way. I just didn’t like him, and I was doing the phone equivalent of filing my nails during sex, waiting for him to be done.
“You can’t see what’s going on,” he hissed. “You have no idea what’s going to happen.”
“Ooh,” I lied. “Ooh, I’m sooooo scared.”
“Suddenly you hear the door squeak open. You strain to listen, but all you can hear is faint footsteps.”
Uh huh, yeah, fine, let’s GO already.
“Your legs are spread wide, and soon you feel a warm, wet tongue licking at your pussy.”
Time to switch on the heavy breathing noises.
“Ooh, yes…”
“And then, unexpectedly, you hear me whisper in your ear, feel my lips on your neck. Who is licking your pussy, you wonder?”
I had a little flicker of interest, but just a little.
“I yank off your blindfold, and you turn your head, desperately trying to see who is between your legs…when suddenly…you see…an enormous German Shepherd licking your cunt!”
I had to stick my head under a pillow to muffle my burst of semi-hysterical laughter.
If he’d asked me at the beginning if I’d do a scene with a dog, I would have said no. (This sort of “K-9” fantasy is actually quite common, it’s just not to my taste.) If I’d been into it and had a dog sprung on me, I might have been upset. But as it was, it seemed pretty funny.
I managed to get back and keep my composure all through the description of being fucked by the dog. Luckily the caller was the talkative type. He didn’t need me to answer him. As long as I moaned, he was happy.
•
But the prize for the most bizarre call so far goes to a guy known among the phone sex girls as “Demon Dan.” I don’t know how to begin to describe him.
Dan sounds like he’s in his 50s or 60s, pleasant and articulate, and he called to ask if I really liked all those things I said in my profile. When I said that I did, he asked if I could scream. Screaming women, he said, make him come really hard. He said it casually, the same way you’d say that onions make you cry.
I told him that I was pretty loud, and he wanted clarification.
“But is it really screaming? Or just moaning?”
Hmm.
“Because I like real screaming, very loud.”
I looked at my watch. It was after midnight.
“You mean, like, ‘wake the neighbors’ screaming?”
“Yes, exactly,” he said. “You don’t live in an apartment, do you?”
“Well, yes, I do.”
“Oh.”
He paused.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea right now. Maybe I should call you back during the day sometime?”
“Yes,” I agreed. “I can definitely scream louder during the day.”
“Good, good,” he said. “I’ll call back on Saturday maybe. I wouldn’t want someone to call the police or something.”
He hung up. The police?
•
The phone rang on Saturday night.
“Hi Kristi, this is Dan. Remember me? I called a few days ago and…”
“Dan! Yes, of course. Did you find someone to scream for you?”
“Well, actually, no, I didn’t.”
I looked at my watch. After midnight again.
“I was going to try to call you back during the day sometime, but… how close are your neighbors?”
I considered. “Well, my bedroom is well insulated. I can probably stick my head under the pillow and shriek, but I don’t think I can scream really loud,” I said.
“It might work,” he said. “Listen, are you really into those wild things your page says? I mean, rape and…”
“Yes,” I said. “Really.”
“Because what I like is really crazy.”
“How crazy?”
He laughed nervously. “I’ve been doing this for twenty years. And let’s just say that no one who talks to me ever forgets it.”
I laughed with him. I was very curious now.
“It’s okay,” I assured him. “Tell me.”
I hadn’t gotten his credit card number or anything, I realized. But I knew he was a regular to the service, so I decided to just listen for a bit.
He hesitated.
“How about if I tell you what I don’t do?” I suggested.
He sounded relieved. “Great, yes, that’s great.”
“I don’t like blood. I don’t do scat, or golden showers, and I’m not into animals, or stuff like that.”
“That’s fine, I’m not into anything like that. But I am into heavy pain, torture, that sort of thing.”
“You don’t want to cut pieces off me or anything, right? Not bloody torture?”
“No, no, nothing like that.”
“Well then, I think we’re fine.”
“Well,” he said, “have you ever had a thong burned off of you?”
“No,” I said, “but it sounds interesting to me. Burned off with what?”
“A candle, probably,” he said.
That didn’t sound so bad. I’ve heard of people playing with fire and flash cotton. I pictured being face down on a table, him pulling up the string part of the thong and burning through it with a candle. It sounded scary and exciting, and I told him so.
He seemed less skeptical then. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe this could work. Do you have any toys?”
“Sure,” I said.
“One more question,” he said. “Do you like the Catholic school uniform thing?”
Oh, good, I thought. I’d been nervous, but if he was into schoolgirls then I could definitely handle it.
“Love it,” I answered. “I even have a plaid skirt.”
Okay, that was a lie, but I do like plaid skirts. I’ve thought about buying a plaid skirt, and even tried them on in stores. That counts!
He was quiet for a long moment. “Do you want to give this a try?” I asked.
“Yeah, why not?” he said. I could hear him smile.
“Great!”
“I have some stuff to do to get ready,” he said. “I want to play you a tape of a scene I did once. I have this specific fantasy – kind of a ritual, a vigil.”
“Ummmm….”
“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. The tape was a scene I wrote and e-mailed to the two girls. It was the hottest thing I ever did.”
“Okay, sure, I’ll listen to it.”
“Great. Let me give you the credit card stuff now, so you can run it while I’m getting my things together.”
I was glad to hear that. I had been talking to him for far too long already. “Perfect.”
He gave me his information, and then said, “I’ll call you back in 15 minutes. Here’s what I want you to wear: a tank top and skirt, with no bra, and a thong underneath. And socks and sneakers. Okay?”
“Sure,” I said. Yeah, right.
“And I allow one candle, but otherwise the room has to be dark. Do you have a candle?”
“Yes.”
“Great. And I want you to have a vibrator ready. I’ll call you back in 15 minutes.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be here.”
We hung up.
I called in for the credit card authorization and got out the vibrator. I figured out what I was supposedly wearing, and then decided to play along and light a candle.
I waited. It was sexy, waiting like that in the near-dark. I don’t usually know when the phone is going to ring, so I’m normally going about my regular business. This was different, and I liked it.
I didn’t have to wait long.
•
Ring. “Kristi?”
“Hi Dan!”
“Ready?”
“I think so.”
“Great. Tell me what you’re wearing.”
“A light blue tank top and matching skirt. It’s two pieces, but they match, so it looks like a dress when I’m standing still. But when I move, you can see skin.”
I saw one of those on someone the other day. Why not appropriate it for myself?
“Oh, that sounds nice. Bra?”
“No.”
“Good. And a thong?”
“Yes, dark turquoise.”
“And shoes?”
“Yes, my Keds, with white socks.”
“Perfect. Okay, and you have the vibrator and all?”
“Yes.”
“Good. That’s for you to use when you want. But first I want you to hear my tape, okay?”
“Sure.”
“I made this tape with two other girls. I sent them the script. It might scare you a little bit. Or who knows, if you have rape fantasies, it might even turn you on!” He laughed a little bit. “But don’t come or anything! Save that for later.”
I giggled and promised.
“Here we go.”
Scratchy tape noises. Then a girl’s voice.
“I’m walking home from the gym. It’s starting to get dark out, and I’m a little worried because I’m late. I have to be home before curfew! But I don’t want to go back, because I hate having to wear my uniform. I like wearing these clothes with my cute little ass hanging out in back.”
I didn’t think this was very realistic dialogue, but I suppose that’s a matter of opinion.
“I’m almost home now. Oh, no! There are lit candles in the windows. I’m scared of candles, because whenever the candles are lit, strange things happen. I’ve heard screaming and crying from other girls those nights, but it’s never happened to me. I’m really, really scared, because all the other girls are gone for vacation, and I’m afraid that it’s my turn.”
Hmmmm. This was not quite what I imagined.
“I’m at the stoop now. Oh, I’m so scared! I’d better kneel down and say my prayers before I go in.”
Then I heard the girl’s voice start to pray. I recognized the prayers, but I didn’t know any of them. After several minutes she stopped and said, “I have to go in, now. I just hope I survive.”
Then the screaming started. I don’t remember exactly what happened, but Dan was yelling (“Little bitch, where the hell have you been?”) and the girl was crying, and a loud, strident woman’s voice was directing the girl (“Get down the stairs to the basement, fucking slut, right now you little cunt!”).
Most of the tape was of the two women, and the older, whom the girl addressed as “Blessed Holy Mistress,” did the majority of the screaming. The girl mostly cried and begged and pleaded. It was all fuzzy, but they were beating her, shouting at her, and at one point apparently choking her with a rope; the girl coughed and sputtered convincingly.
I felt detached from the scene, and actually almost laughed a couple of times. It was too outrageous and bizarre to disturb me, but it certainly didn’t arouse me. It was so strange and alien.
He didn’t play me the whole scene – only a few minutes, enough to give me an idea of what he liked.
“You still there, Kristi?”
Dan had turned off the tape.
“Yes.” I laughed weakly.
“You still game?”
Was I? Surprisingly, yes. I knew it wasn’t going to turn me on, but I could do it. The really nasty stuff on the tape was from the woman, anyway, and she wasn’t there.
“Um. Sure, Dan. One thing… I don’t think I could really deal with the choking stuff.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “We can leave that part out.”
“Okay, great. Thanks.”
“Let me tell you a little bit about my fantasy first. You’re 15 and you go to Catholic school. You live in a house with other girls, and you all live with a retired priest, who acts as your mentor and disciplinarian. That’s me.”
“Yes, all right.”
“I am to be addressed as ‘Blessed Holy Master’ and nothing else.”
Oh my god, oh my god, just don’t laugh, just don’t laugh!
“You’re walking home from the gym, and you’re nervous because you see the candles in the window. And before you go in, you stop to kneel and pray. Do you know the Catholic prayers?”
“Ummm…” No, because I’m Jewish. Can’t say that. There are no Jewish girls named Kristi. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Not Catholic, huh? I should have e-mailed them to you. No problem, just stop at the stoop and kneel down, and say a silent prayer.”
“Sure, yeah, okay.”
“And then you come in the house, and go up to your room… and then, well, then you’ll see.”
What the hell. I’m getting paid for this. He can’t really hurt me no matter what he says. Go for it.
I started talking. I was walking home from the gym. I embellished a little bit, but since I didn’t know his triggers yet, I told the story as closely to the tape as I could remember. I left out the part about my cute little ass hanging out of my clothing.
I knelt to pray, doing my best to keep my voice steady and not have a fit of giggles. He was breathing harder on the other end of the phone.
He spoke softly, “Now come in and go up to your room.”
This was slightly different from the tape, so I started to improvise.
“I’m coming through the front door, slowly. I’m nervous, but nothing seems to be happening inside. All I want is to go upstairs to my room and take a shower. I’m walking up the stairs, still very scared, and then I open the door to my room and…”
He interrupted at that moment. “And I grab you, yanking you by the arm into the room. Where have you been, you little bitch?” he bellowed.
I thought I was prepared, but being shouted at was still unexpected, and I reacted involuntarily. My little girl voice came out.
“I… I was at the gym.”
He didn’t let me finish. “And what the fuck are these clothes? Where’s your uniform, you fucking slut? Bitch, you’ll pay for this.”
He was shouting and I was trying to explain at the same time.
“I’m sorry… I just went to the gym, I was working out…I couldn’t wear my uniform to the gym, I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again…”
“I don’t care what the fuck you were doing, you little whore! I don’t ever want to see you dressed like a slut again. Look at you. I can see your tits, you fucking slut whore bitch. Get that fucking shirt off now.”
And so it went. He continued to scream, I continued to cry and apologize. I can’t say I remember most of it, because I didn’t hear half of it anyway. He got my shirt off, slapped my breasts and my face, and dragged me down the stairs to the basement, all the while telling me how he was going to beat the hell out of me and teach me a lesson.
This was quite definitely not erotic to me. It wasn’t upsetting, because it was so outrageous that I couldn’t even identify with it. It was almost like watching a horror movie that’s so awful that it isn’t even scary.
When we got down to the dark basement, he ripped my skirt off and started shouting even louder. “What the fuck is this, you little cunt whore? Who the fuck told you to wear this fucking thing?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Blessed Holy Master <silent snigger>, all my other panties were in the laundry, please don’t hurt me, I’ll never do it again, I swear, I’m sorry…”
“You’re damn right you’re sorry, you’ll be so sorry you’ll never disobey again you little bitch, you little whore…”
He described dragging me over to the center of the room and put a large, lit candle down on the floor.
“Get that fucking thing off you right now!”
I reached for the thong to take it off, but he stopped me.
“Not like that, bitch. Stand over the candle, I want to see that goddamn thing burnt off you, little whore.”
Whoa. This is not what I thought he meant by “have a thong burnt off me.” Obviously it wasn’t real, but for the first time I started to feel a little weird and anxious.
“Please,” I begged, sounding more realistically upset. “Please, I’ll take it off, I’ll take it off, don’t make me…”
“Too late, little cunt. Stand over the fucking fire now!”
He dragged me by the hair and held me over the flame. I stuck my head farther under the pillow, and screamed loudly. Louder than I expected to.
“That’s right, that’ll teach you, bitch. You feel that fire blistering your cunt? Yeah, you’ll never disobey again, will you, you little whore? And I’m not through with you yet.”
The next few minutes were hazy. He threw me down on the hard concrete floor and raped me, all the while yelling and beating my head against the floor. I said very little, just continued to beg and sob.
Most of it was just white noise to me. I really couldn’t hear him that well over my own screaming anyway. At one point I sobbed, “Why are you doing this to me?” and he immediately shouted back, “Because you need to learn a lesson, bitch!” I was surprised – I hadn’t realized he was still with me. I thought he was off in his own world.
More screaming, crying, shouting, and then unexpectedly, “You still got that vibrator, baby?”
“Good, because we’re gonna come now, you ready?”
Well, one of us is.
“Yes!”
“Here we go baby!”
If I thought he had been shouting before, that was nothing compared with this yell.
Whew.
It took a few seconds for everything to calm down.
“You okay there, Kristi?” Back to Dan the Nice Cheerful Guy.
“Sure.” I laughed. “But now I see why you said no one ever forgets you.”
He laughed too. “Well now you can say you really do all those wild things your website says. How are we doing on time?”
I checked. “32 minutes.”
“Not bad for a first time,” he said. “Have a good night, kiddo.”
“You too, Dan.”
I put the phone down and turned it off. That was plenty for one night.