Victim

By DX

Copyrighted 10/2002, 12/2023 all rights reserved.

I remember their innocent, dough boy faces, so arrogant, so confident, as they stood before the judge and the jury.  They wore suits too big for them-making them look younger than they were, making them look like children standing against a backdrop of a cadre of bullet proof lawyers. They were rich, stupid rich, and Daddy's money was going to get them out of this like it had rescued them in the past. 

All I had was a harried, overworked prosecutor, who was only armed with the truth.

She was horribly outgunned.

The jury of eight women and four men found the boys, those mischievous little scamps, guilty of Criminal Misconduct and Trespassing. 

It was all just youthful shenanigans!  A little prank, that’s all!  It was a Huck Finn adventure. That's what those little imps did, nothing more than end of semester fun.

Not rape. Not Aggravated Sexual Assault in the First Degree. Not Breaking and Entering. Nothing like that at all. Just a little funnin' is all. The bruises, the scars, that was only enthusiastic love making. In fact, I should be happy that they don't charge me with improper use of tax payer's money for making everyone waste their time with my petty problem. If I really didn’t want to have my front door kicked in and gang raped, I should have invested in a stronger door with better locks. 

I was ASKING for it!

I did come close to getting arrested that day when I stood up in the courtroom and screamed bloody murder. I called them every name in the book at the top of my lungs. I ranted for almost a minute before the bailiff stepped toward me. 

"Today, I have been raped again." I said, and stormed out of the courtroom. 

I did the therapy thing. Counseling, group sessions, drugs; intoxicating, mind draining drugs, on the long road to recovery rehab. I did role playing, self defense classes, meditation, and spent hours in my 'Happy Place'.

The nightmare was still the same. 

The last week of the semester, and I, the studious senior in her dorm room getting the last scrapes of knowledge into her head when four drunk seniors slipped past the lame security, jimmied the downstairs door, bribed the Resident Grad Student with a six pack of beer, then broke into three rooms until they found a girl, me.  

They ignored her pleas of mercy.  They held her down, gagged her with a sock stuffed halfway down her throat, and raped her. 

In my dream I watch like a ghost, standing over them as they take her vaginally, orally, anally, they grope her breasts like dough balls so hard they bruise.

After the attack, I no longer felt safe. I barricaded myself in my dorm room at night. My roommate understood in that respect but it was a pain in the ass moving the heavy dresser back and forth. I finally moved to an apartment off campus and put a bank vault of locks on the door. 

I still didn't feel safe.

I had been putting myself through college and I couldn't afford to go elsewhere. They, my rapists, had already been thrown out of every college in the state. They finished their sentences, some measly hours of community service, and returned to campus like celebrities. In no time at all it was I who was the villain. I failed to fight back enough was the first rumor. Soon I was the harlot, who seduced the innocent boys and then cried rape to extort their wealthy daddies for money.

I ignored the rumors. I tried to ignore the rumors. I could not ignore the rumors. 

Every day I felt the pangs, the barbs. Every day I felt raped all over again. When I saw them on campus, passed them in the halls, I felt their eyes mocking me, laughing at me, committing their crime again and again. I could only look away with shame and fear. In the minds of everyone, it only confirmed that I was the bad guy.

Until during one of my group therapy sessions, I met a woman who had a Chasti-Permalock.

"It is the ultimate protection!" She said as she hiked up her skirt and showed me the shimmering plate of gold. "I leave the key in a very safe place." She was so happy. "I have my life back. I have control over the fear and feelings of violation."

I went to the website and ordered mine.

Five pieces. I wanted them crude and brutal. I didn't want fashion accessories. I wanted them to look as secure and impenetrable as I wanted to feel. They were to be public displays of chastity with patterns of rivets adorning them.  They looked like an iron clad battleship. 

Teaser: for the whole story and image, consider supporting us at:
https://subscribestar.adult/posts/1112319

Copyrighted, 10/2002, 12/2023, all rights reserved.