It Couldn’t Have Happened to a Nastier Slut

I am so ashamed of the way that you made me feel, you nameless, almost faceless man!  I was coming home on Sunday night, after spending the weekend with my folks and I had been on the road for about three hours.  I should have known that something was wrong when my deadbolt was unlocked (I ALWAYS lock it when I leave), but when I opened the door and the cable wire was laying across the front room of my apartment, I immediately felt a sense of dread.  Before I realized what was happening, you had grabbed me hard by my arm and yanked me inside, slamming the door behind us, locking the deadbolt and doorknob in a flash.  You quickly grabbed me by my hair and forced me down to the carpet.  You were wearing all black and had on a dark ski mask, and before I knew it, I saw a flash of silver whiz by my face without it touching me.  You told me to cooperate, and that if I did, that you wouldn’t slice me up!  Shaking uncontrollably, I laid on my back, staring at you while the sharp tip of your Bowie knife tore my blouse and my bra off of me, my nipples growing hard and then that same knife tearing my short skirt to shreds, baring me before you.  I breathed heavily while you forced your hand between my thighs, plunging your fingers hard in and out of my tight, wet pussy repeatedly while the knife was held next to my throat, its tip nicking me if I moved.  You flipped me over, making me stand on all fours, while you whipped your hard cock out and forced it up my tight rosebud asshole.  You put your hand over my mouth and told me to “Shut up, bitch!” or you would stab me!  You took my ass hard and fast and my pussy squirted cum all over me and all over the floor, betraying my fear.  Then, you finally blew your hot jism load in my ass.  Oh, how could you make me react like such a nasty, naughty SLUT?!!

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