Raping Annabelle Lee
A story by Lolileah

I’d like to dedicate this story to one of my readers
“Diane”. I hope it can get her off and will be more to her
taste. It’s a little bit out of what I usually write but the
idea turned me on even though I’m not a female or a lesbian
(except in a man’s body). I’d like to thank her for that.
It’s always easier to write things that turn one’s self on.
I’m sure other ASSTR writers know what I mean. This story is
ADULTS ONLY which you should already know. It’s not consensual,
a first for me as a writer. Not sure how violent it is compared
to other stories of its like but the main thing is that the girl
doesn’t enjoy it and sometimes that’s best. (FF, rape, anal,
toys, 1st)

You always remember your first rape. It’s sort of like when you
lose your virginity. It’s special. Whether you are the victim
or the rapist, the experience is burned into your brain. This is
my story, not of getting raped but of raping.

My name is Anastasia Lowe. I’ve got a daughter, 18 years of age
and a husband who is 40 just like me. We just celebrated our 20th
wedding anniversary but we never seem to have sex anymore, even
when he is home. Is this just the natural progression of
marriages, that you no longer desire sex with your partner
anymore? I guess all the comedians poking fun at marriage got
something right about it.

To combat my boredom, I read all of the “Fifty Shades of
Grey” books. Some people might call it “mommy porn” but I
honestly couldn’t enjoy it the way all my friends did. They
would rave about how good it was but I always preferred to be the
aggressive one, not the passive one. I love being on top in every
aspect of my life.

Since reading wasn’t doing it for me, I went down to the YMCA
and signed up for a yoga class. All the girls went on and on
about that too. Supposed to be very healthy and all that.
Couldn’t hurt anything more than my muscles and my pride and I
had little enough of both. I can see why guys love yoga pictures.
When we’re in that downward dog pose with our asses up in the
air and our tight yoga pants outlining our every curve, I can see
how that would be a huge turn-on. There was one girl in
particular who stuck out to me: my daughter Megan’s best friend
Annabelle Lee. It always seemed like she was ahead of me, her
pretty, round little booty stirred something in me I never
thought I had for girls. I mean that her 18-year-old buttocks
really, really turned me on.

What could I do about that? Sure, she was legal but I was twice
her age and she was my daughter’s friend. That would just be
weird. I could try and be the cool mom as so many parents I knew
tried so hard to be and yet failed miserably at. That couldn’t
hurt. In all the time she’d spent at our house, I guess I’d
never really gotten to know her.

“Can I give you a ride home, Annabelle? You’re just down the
street from us, right?”

“Yes, Mrs. Lowe. Three doors down.”

“Please, call me Anastasia. There’s no need to be so formal.
We’re neighbors, you’re friends with my daughter, just call
me Anastasia.”

“It doesn’t seem right. I was always taught to respect
adults.”

“Nonsense, you’re an adult now too. It’s time you get some
of the benefits.” Now that she was facing me I could see her
chest was a little smaller than Megan’s but she wasn’t
wearing a bra, not even a sports bra. “Young woman, what do you
have to say for yourself? Does your mother know you don’t wear
a bra?”

“No. Please don’t tell her! You might say I’m an adult but
I still live under their roof. Please don’t tell her,
Anastasia.”

“It will be our little secret. I’m sure Megan keeps secrets
from me too. It’s just part of that rebellious teenage phase.
Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.”

I could think of lots of ways she could ensure my silence. I had
lots of things I wanted to do to her. It wasn’t that I hated
blondes, I just preferred brunettes. Still, she was pretty cute
and I didn’t even swing that way. I could think of fun things
to do with her in the gym showers but let’s be real, she was
still my daughter’s best friend and still half my age. I
couldn’t imagine she would willingly lick my pussy clean. There
was only one thing for me to do; I was going to have to rape
Annabelle.

We walked together to the car. She and I hit it off pretty easily
what with both being into yoga and I trying to make myself out to
be the cool adult. I walked her to her door to ensure she was
safe, at least that’s what I told her. Really I was just there
to sabotage her door. I stuck a piece of gum where the door latch
went into when she wasn’t looking. Sure, it would still go into
the door jamb but since it wouldn’t fully extend, it wouldn’t
lock behind her, not that she’d be able to hear any difference.
Step one complete.

I got in the car and drove home to fix dinner for the family. In
addition to Megan I had a son, Michael. He was in football but he
was out of the house spending time with my estranged husband, his
father. Fortunately he’d left the football uniform behind and
that was essential to my plans for tonight. Because of my work
with cosmetology and prosthetics, I figured I could impersonate
just about anyone I wanted to. Annabelle’s ex-boyfriend Luke
was in football. From what I’d learned from Annabelle she
hadn’t gone “all the way” with him. Seemed like ample
motive for her to get raped by him. Step two was a go. Now I had
only to wait.

Annabelle’s parents were on an overnight trip so she would be
home alone, alone and trapped at the end of the cul-de-sac, poor
girl. The pads and all from the uniform were large enough to
cover the strap-on dildo I was packing inside my pants. It was
the most lifelike dildo I could find. I had no idea if Annabelle
had ever sucked Luke’s cock before. I hoped she hadn’t so the
ruse would work better. The way I saw it, I was just preparing
her for college. Rape seemed to be everywhere on campuses these
days. Maybe I should prepare Megan for it too.

I walked down the street, wondering to myself what it would feel
like to be a rapist. I could imagine what it would feel like for
the victim. Some girls have rape fantasies, that’s just how it
is. Not me, of course. I usually fantasized about forcing others
to please me. I even wished I had a penis sometimes so I could
actually feel what being inside a girl’s throat, pussy or ass
felt like, send my hot spunk into my victim, maybe even get her
pregnant. The whole balls thing always brought me out of that.
They’re so unsightly and sort of the Achilles’ heel of male
anatomy.

With that thought, I reached Annabelle’s doorstep. Ring the
doorbell? Naw. Even though I looked like Luke, it would be more
fun to surprise her in her house, see her shock, surprise and
eventual fear as I forced her to serve me. Luke should be so
lucky to rape that little cutie-pie. I turned the doorknob and
quietly opened the door, closing it softly behind me. I needn’t
have been so cautious. Judging by the volume of the music coming
from the master bedroom, she was enjoying her parents’ absence.
I walked through the house undetected, Nirvana’s “Rape Me”
masking my footfalls. ‘Ask and you shall receive,
sweetheart.’ I peered through the half-open door to her
parents’ bedroom. There she was, lying naked on the bed, hair
wet from the shower, a picture I’ll save in my head until the
day I die. I pushed into the room. She froze, paralyzed with
shock until I was nearly on top of her.

“Luke, what the fuck are you doing in my house? Get out!”

I didn’t answer her since I couldn’t disguise my voice. I
walked closer to the bed she was lying on and she aimed a kick at
my balls. I caught her ankle in my hand before the blow could
land. I may not have testicles but getting kicked in the crotch
still wouldn’t feel too good. I unzipped my fly and showed her
the condom-covered dildo. Her reaction was enough to tell me she
hadn’t actually seen her ex’s penis just before she aimed a
kick with her free leg at my nuts again. I caught this one as
well, forcing her legs backward onto the bed until her knees were
on either side of her head, her arms trapped under them. ‘Not
so tough now, are you, you little bitch?’

Annabelle struggled valiantly to get away from me, even in the
position she was in. Fortunately my strength was greater than
hers, or my leverage greater, even with her adrenaline-fueled
desperation. Slowly it began to sink in that no matter what, she
was going to be raped. That sweet look of fear on her beautiful
face morphed into one of despair and then into tears. I was
getting a lady boner. ‘Do you really think tears will save you
now, girl? I am going to enjoy your body whether you like it or
not. I’m sure you’re going to be a popular party favor in
college so you’d better get used to being raped.’

“No, please don’t do it, Luke. It’s not too late. You’re
not a rapist. You’re just trying to scare me, play a joke on
me, right?” The end of the strap-on slotted in between her lips
and I shoved until the entire length was buried in her (possibly)
virgin cunt not caring about Annabelle’s comfort in the
slightest. Her shrill scream caused me to look down at my
‘penis’. It was covered in a thin layer of blood. She’d
actually been a virgin until now? No wonder Luke wanted to rape
her teenaged pussy, not that I knew his thoughts on the matter.
He was just the fall guy in case she decided to report this.

I began thrusting into her, forcing her down into the bed with
each thrust. Each time I did so, a whimper escaped her lips. I
knew she was still a little unused to being fucked and all but
she’d better get used to it. Sure I was hurting her but it was
for her own good. I’m not even going to pretend it was entirely
out of altruism that I was ravaging Annabelle’s tender loins
for. There probably wasn’t any at all. Each time I went in, my
erect clitoris banged against her. She might not be enjoying this
but I certainly was beginning to. I lowered my mouth to her small
bosom, sucking hard at it, sucking as much of her into my mouth
as humanly possible as I came for the first time that night while
Annabelle sobbed bitterly.

I took a little breather once I’d come down from my “contact
high” from banging into and against Annabelle. Her tears had
smeared the mascara she hadn’t managed to wash off in the
shower. Call me a bitch but it turned me on even more, the broken
rape victim who was in my power, my toy to do with as I pleased.
As much as I wanted to kiss her cute little face and tell her
everything would be okay, my voice and the way I kissed would
give me away. Besides, she’d apparently hit the repeat button
when I’d come into the room and “Rape Me” was starting for
the third time tonight. Who was I to argue with Kurt Cobain’s
“Rape me/Rape me my friend/Rape me/Rape me again” when it’s
exactly what I wanted to do?

I used to think that being raped by a man would be the worst and
most humiliating experience a girl could go through. It certainly
wouldn’t be pleasant, but I had hoped that by the time I was
done with Annabelle, maybe she would have learned how to get wet
for me, for her sake. When I left her broken and silently sobbing
body, breasts covered in my hickeys at around daybreak,
apparently raping her 36 times hadn’t done the trick. I had
singlehandedly gang-raped her. While being raped by a man would
have been humiliating and horrible, a girl doing it was even
worse. They have faster recharge times, multiple orgasms. Now I
sort of pitied male rapists since they sort of got the shaft, so
to speak. I get now that rape’s not all about the sex. Don’t
get me wrong, the sex with Annabelle was amazing but it was the
addicting taste of power that would have me doing it again. I hid
a little GPS tracker in her phone as it sat on the charger in the
kitchen before I left. Now it didn’t matter where she went, I
could enjoy the sweet candy that was her rape face whenever and
wherever. Steps three and four complete. Time for bed.

Next day, rape day plus one, we both had yoga class as usual. I
was surprised when Annabelle showed up to be quite frank. She
walked a little more gingerly than usual but otherwise she was
her usual quiet self. She was here to workout. Little did she
know but her rapist was right behind her, sizing up her ass,
longing for another taste of that candy. But I wasn’t just her
rapist, I was also her friend. When we took a shower in the
communal bathroom, I gasped appropriately as the damage I’d
done the night before was revealed. Her bosom was a sickly
bluish-green color all over. Though I couldn’t see it, I knew
the shower concealed her tears so I asked her what was wrong.

Through her tears she told me. “Last night my ex-boyfriend
broke into my house when I was naked. He held me down on the bed
and robbed me of my innocence. I would have preferred to give it
to anyone except him. He was always kind of a selfish douche
nozzle. That’s why I dumped him. He’s the one who did this to
my breasts. I don’t know how long he raped me for. I thought it
would never end. It was horrible. He left me there around
daybreak, lying there used, bloodied, discarded like he now no
longer wanted anything to do with me. Should I report him, would
it even do any good Anastasia?”

“Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry. Did he at least use a condom?”

“Yes.”

“Well if you’ve already showered and washed yourself and he
used a condom, I don’t think there’s any DNA evidence left.
Even if you had a rape kit done and the police believed you, at
least half the time they don’t even test those and once a
girl’s been raped or molested once there’s a giant invisible
sign above her head that tells boys she’s an easy target and
she won’t tell. I’m really sorry, hun. This is your life now.
It will probably happen again.”

“So then I should just kill myself now. I don’t think I can
take any more.”

“Please, don’t do that! You’d make your parents, Megan and
I all very sad. We all love you very much. You’re a beautiful
girl and it would be such a tragic waste of life. Getting raped
is a woman’s curse though it’s becoming increasingly balanced
these days. Equality, yay! But rape doesn’t have to define you,
it need not limit you. You can rise above bad circumstances. Rape
can make you or break you, all up to you. Many girls do recover;
they move past their rapes. Rape can be the most empowering thing
a woman goes through if she lets it be (especially when she’s
the rapist). I swear on your grave, if you kill yourself, I’ll
kill you ’til you die. Right after Megan does. I swear it. Stay
away from Luke, punish him if you have to. He’s gotten luckier
with you than any guy ever should. Just don’t kill yourself.”

“Also sweetie, it’s basically our fault that we get raped.
Have you seen how most girls sit? Legs crossed all the time like
a giant “fuck off!” to everybody. That our legs uncrossing is
considered a sign of sexual interest says a lot. Guys need sex
and when we don’t give it to them, sometimes they have to take
matters into their own hands. It’s like a party, and our
pussies are a party, if somebody gate crashes, you can’t really
blame them for wanting into the great party; you blame the person
who did the invitations. They have to rape us. It’s almost
their duty. Don’t take it personally. It’s not really about
you. Besides, if I were a guy, you’re so cute that I’d feel I
had to fuck you one way or another. Don’t beat yourself up over
Luke, please. You were always going to be raped. It was probably
inevitable. Every girl should expect it at least once in her
lifetime. Luke was just the lucky bastard who stole your
cherry.” Well, part of that was a lie. Far be it from me to
spread falsehoods about the girl being at fault but I had a
vested interest in her rape going unreported, didn’t I?

Annabelle hugged me and as I looked down at her poor tits, she
looked up at me and kissed me. Not like I was her mother but the
way I’d be embarrassed to see my daughter doing with a
boyfriend. I was a bit taken aback but figured what the hell
before kissing her back. This should make for a long and pleasant
shower :) Good thing Megan wasn’t here.

I don’t know what is wrong with me. Rape a girl one night and
the next be kissing her and doing all this lesbian shit? With my
daughter’s best friend, half my age? There has to be something
wrong with me. Tonight was going to be different. Tonight
Annabelle was sleeping over at our house. Tonight her poor
ravaged pussy would catch a much-needed break, maybe. Possibly.
Ok, probably not. God, I can’t wait!

After cleaning up both of us (we were both wet and panting and it
wasn’t the hot shower), we both dressed and I drove her home.
Tonight was going to be special and she didn’t even know how
much. Why should she have all the fun today? I could always
apologize tomorrow in the shower, couldn’t I? If I kept doing
this right, she’d never learn I was both her lover, her friend
and her rapist. I guess I was sort of a Jekyll and Hyde of
rapists and she’d keep coming back to me for more. It gave me
the biggest power rush, almost as much as forcing myself upon her
had.

At around 6:00PM, the doorbell rang. Megan went to let her friend
in while I was preparing supper for us all. Spaghetti and
meatballs with hot buttered garlic bread and salad. You can call
me a terrible mother but I was never that proficient at cooking.
Pasta is one of the few dishes I can handle. At least it was
better than Spaghetti-Os, right?

We all sat at our places around the square table. I sat at the
“tail” while my son sat at the “head” as he was the male
of the house while his father was absent. How is there a head and
a tail of a table that’s square, that’s what I want to know.
Megan sat on my left and Annabelle sat on my right. While our
heads were bowed as Michael said grace, I squeezed Annabelle’s
knee before I moved my hand up into her crotch. If my timing was
right she should cum just as my son finished up. Oh, the joys of
finger-raping your daughter’s best friend under the table!

“Amen.” Annabelle’s knee jerked and were it not for my
holding it down, she would have slammed it upward into the table.
Her face looked to me simultaneously red and flushed and she was
breathing more heavily than should be expected at a dinner table
that doesn’t have a guest being molested by the hostess. She
gave me a devilish wink while my children’s attention was
directed at serving themselves and squeezed my hand under the
table. Guess I didn’t hide that it was me doing it too well.

“Megan, Annabelle, I know you’ll be tempted to just talk and
have fun but please do remember to do your homework or I swear
I’ll come in and spank you both. Simultaneously. Got it?”

“Yes mom,” said Megan. I knew she would be the problem child.
She was always the social butterfly, chatty Kathy girl.

Yes ma’am,” said Annabelle.

“Fine, I’ll do my homework too,” piped in Michael.
“Wouldn’t want these two ho bag, goody-two-shoes to show me
up.” Annabelle seemed like she would cry.

“Michael! Apologize at once! You don’t call your sister or
any girl that. Nobody here is a quote-unquote ho bag. Now, young
man!”

“Sorry.” He didn’t look that contrite. More like someone
who is told to do something they would rather not do.

“Son, I don’t think you really meant that. No dessert for you
tonight. It’s banana cream pie too, your favorite.”

“Aww, mom. Do I have to?” he whined.

“Yes. What you said was very rude. You don’t call a young
lady a ho bag without proof.”

“Fine. May I be excused then? I’ve got homework. Lots of
algebra.” I gave him permission and waved him off to his room.
He stood, turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him as
he got inside.

“Ladies, I hope he hasn’t ruined your appetites. We’ll just
have to eat his share of the pie, won’t we? Just because a
girl’s not a virgin doesn’t mean she’s a slut or a whore,
remember that.” The girls murmured their understanding. I made
kissy faces at Annabelle while Megan sliced up the pie for us. I
was really the slutty ho bag. Don’t tell Michael. All my talk
might go out the window.

I retired to my room to perfect my disguise for the night. It’s
so nice when your victims deliver themselves on a silver plate to
you. I was planning to dress as Megan’s ex tonight and make the
mistake of raping Annabelle instead of Megan. “Accidentally”
of course.

Even though Annabelle had been the first girl I’d ever kissed
or fooled around with, I wondered if she and Megan ever…as a
mom of course. Two cute teen girls, making out, making love. My
search history of late would make a pretty damning record of my
masturbation fantasies. Rape, teen, lesbian, even creampie. I was
getting so wet thinking about it. Come on girls. Go to sleep.
Mommy’s so horny!

At 11 o’clock, they finally went to bed. I had to believe they
actually did some homework instead of talking at each other and
playing with their phones the whole time. Benefit of the doubt.
I’d unlocked the window but Megan usually liked to sleep with
it open anyway. This would be too easy. I donned my costume,
checked that my strap-on was ready and snuck into Megan’s room.
The window was only for my escape. No sense waking either girl
before it was too late.

I wished I’d hidden a camera somewhere so it could capture
Annabelle’s face. Megan could sleep through Judgment Day so I
had no fear of her discovering me with her bestie. I could
probably rape my daughter in her bed and she’d never know if
there was no video. Here’s the thing though, even though I had
plans to rape her one day as well, the most exhilarating,
addicting and intoxicating thing about raping a girl is the look
on her face as you do it, especially if she’s a virgin. The
shock, the pain, the fight, the despair, the hope leaving her as
help doesn’t come, the acceptance as she tries to imagine
she’s somewhere else. I didn’t want to deprive me or my
daughter of those feelings. A girl should know that she’s being
raped. It’s only fair to her rapist. That’s the whole point,
taking something forcibly that she didn’t give up willingly.

I paused a moment to take in the scene of my daughter and my
so-far favorite piece of ass. They looked so peaceful with the
moonlight shining through the window on them. Cherub-like even.
I’d laid out blankets for them to sleep on since there was only
Megan’s small bed for the two of them. The fact they weren’t
both sleeping on it told me that clearly they hadn’t explored a
relationship beyond friendly, at least not yet. I could still
fantasize. Megan slept in the preferred position for girls, the
rape-me position, aka missionary. I’d been told that once in
this position it is impossible for the person on the bottom to
escape. Just bring your body close to theirs and they can’t get
leverage for their arms. They are yours. Annabelle slept on her
side. Strange. Sleep apnea? Did she snore on her back?

I stood over the sleeping girl and took out the strap-on I
planned to use tonight. It was thicker than the one I’d
deflowered her with. I rolled her onto her stomach and popped the
ball gag I brought with me into her mouth as it opened when she
woke. I clamped my hand over the holes in it forcing her to
breathe through her nose. One quick yank and her teddy bear
pajama pants were around her ankles. If she was smart and
listened to my talk about rape being a woman’s curse then
she’d relax and bear with it until it was over so of course I
hoped she’d resist. I wasn’t her friend right now. I was
about to rape her and nothing empowers a rapist quite like
resistance. It makes the rape so much sweeter because it means
they were stronger, faster, better than their victim.

I aligned the tip of my strap-on between her legs and pushed it
inexorably, inch-by-inch into her. The noise she tried to make
through my hand, the steady stream of tears and snot wetting my
hand, clearly she hadn’t taken heed of my relaxing advice. I
traced the toy to where it was buried in Annabelle’s…ass? No
wonder she wasn’t too fond of this. The thing was about as big
around as Megan’s wrist or maybe a little bigger. Now I was
really getting turned on!

I’ll never forget what happened next. We had rotated as she
tried to escape me. The moon had been hidden by clouds and
suddenly the room was bathed in moonlight. In the mirror I saw us
both as clear as clear can be. She was clutching the blanket
underneath us, trying to get purchase enough to pull away from
me. I was on top of her, a hand clamped around her mouth. I could
see the tear tracks on her cheeks, glistening and shimmering like
molten silver or snail tracks. To the day I die, I will cherish
the look of anguish on her face as I fucked the shit out of her
tight little asshole. I’ll never forget it; it’s too precious
to me.

I took the hand that wasn’t clamped over her mouth and slid it
under her pajama top, fondling and molesting her sore breasts
while I sodomized the poor girl. Every time I came, and there
were to be many, I bit her neck or her ear as I pinched her
brutalized nipples. For her, it was no doubt at least as bad as
the night I forced her to give me her innocent pussy.

I am sure that to Annabelle, though it was a shorter night than
before, the night was never-ending. I probably only fucked her
for an hour or two this time before I took the gag from her
mouth, pulled up my pants and dived out the open window. I snuck
around and quietly unlocked the front door, hiding all the
evidence I was currently wearing as Annabelle awoke Megan and
started telling her that Megan’s ex had just butt-raped her, no
doubt mistaking her for Megan. Silly girl, there was plenty of
light for me to see faces. God, your silently screaming face was
hot! Don’t worry, I’ll rape my daughter one day too. I might
rape your whole class, put notches on my bedpost or something,
now that you’ve given me a taste of the joys of it. You took my
rape virginity the same time as I took yours and you’ll always
be special to me because of it.

As I say, she was my first of what I hoped to be many victims. I
had a taste for it now; truthfully I was hooked. Maybe I might
even join a rape survivor’s group. Once you’ve been raped,
right? Should be plenty of potential there. Maybe she secretly
unleashed a monster lurking inside me, hiding for so long and
waiting to be freed. All I know is I can’t wait to make Megan
and Annabelle equals. I’m going to rape my daughter one day,
but that’s a story for another time.


Raping Annabelle Lee

It was many and many a night ago,
In her house there on Downey,
A maiden there lived who I am told
Was known as Annabelle Lee;
This maiden knew not, had not a thought,
That she was to be raped by me.

Yes I am a girl and she was a girl,
Living there on Downey,
But I wanted more than friendship affords,
From dear, sweet Annabelle Lee
A “love” that the demons inside my head
Cackled and hooted with glee.

And as you know, those nights ago,
In her house there on Downey,
I snuck into her house, quiet as a mouse
And raped sweet Annabelle Lee;
Raped her so long she probably prayed
A horrible death on me,
But I was just fine and that night she was mine
She and her chastity.

The monster inside was not satisfied
By one night with Annabelle Lee
For being raped as all girls know
Is not like sodomy
And so her best friend’s mother ended up
Raping and gaping dear Annabelle Lee.

For my lust was far stronger by far than the girl
From whom I stole purity
Ravaged her virginity
And neither her parents gone that night
Had any knowledge of me,
The woman corrupting their sweet daughter dear
Their innocent Annabelle Lee.

And now down this road I bear my load
For raping dear Annabelle Lee,
As now I’ve a taste for girls who are chaste
After tasting her misery.
I feel I must confess that I shall regress
To a wanton carnal beast I cannot repress
What is next awaiting her and me?
Perhaps, perish the thought! forced pregnancy?