Author Topic: Encounter at the Ice Cream Stand (in honor of Sexaul Assault Awareness Month)  (Read 639 times)

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April 21, 2017, 01:45:46 AM

Offline SoftGameHunter

I didn't time my discovery of a new site (new for me) to the unveiling of a new story, so I'll just post my latest. My style is in some ways eclectic, with a mix of harsh and mild, serious and light, POV's, lengths, etc. This one is fairly representative aside from the nod to Sexual Assault Awareness Month. I rarely give the month much thought, but being on forums like these has actually enhanced my consciousness of a real problem, so it's cool. Anyway, you came for an inaugural story, so here it is.


Encounter at the Ice Cream Stand (M/f, rape, nc, bond, torture)

Present Day


Without sirens or lights, several police cars rolled up the driveway. They got out and approached the neat and tidy little house. One rang the bell. A woman in her seventies answered.

“Ma’am, we have a warrant for the arrest of Sam Duval.”

“That’s my husband, but that can’t be right!” the lady said. “Sam is barely mobile. What’s he accused of?”

“Please step aside,” they said, walking in. They found the old man sitting in an armchair, an oxygen tank at his side, peering out the window.

“Sam, these men want to arrest you!” his wife said, alarmed. “That can’t be right!”

“Sorry, Mary, but it might be,” he croaked. “So, officers, what was it? DNA? Cold case files?”

“You’re under arrest for rape, kidnapping, violation of the Mann Act…” the officer droned on, giving the Miranda reading Sam had heard only that one time, and he’d beaten it easily. Now, not so much.

“They’ve got me dead to rights, Mary. We’d probably best get a divorce before the civil suits start. Anything that’s still in my name is toast, so I’ll give you everything. I’m sorry, darling, but it was all before I met you. That I swear. So, officer, which one? How many?”

“Is there more than one?” the officer asked him.

“Heh,” he laughed. “Well, I guess that’s for me to know and you all to find out.”

“There’s one charge, Mr. Duval. For now.”

He nodded, and looked at the name on the warrant they showed him. And he smiled.

Back in the Day

Miles of backcountry roads. Summer heat in the South. Dust. The joy of trying to sell encyclopedias in the most illiterate district the company covered. But it paid and allowed lots of time to himself, so Sam found it ideal. Besides, he was a pretty good salesman and would have the good districts back in hand once his punishment was over. That business with the girl and the pool and the cops, well, the cops never pushed it but headquarters was not happy. Thus, the Southern loop and the books. Commissions would be pretty fucking lean for a while.

Sam was feeling a bit peckish, and up ahead he spotted a roadside ice cream stand, the seasonal kind that open just for the warm months. Out on the edge of town where otherwise nothing would be. There were tables aplenty, mostly it was filled with teens on their summer break. Sam licked his lips. Perfect. He rolled the big caddy into the parking lot and strolled over to the order window. Pretty standard fare. Chocolate and vanilla. Now with soft-serve! Milkshakes and Sundays. Special: now with malted shakes. They seemed a tad behind the times, even for the South. Sam noted the phone booth, but elected not to call in just yet. Besides, it was better not to have a phone record from the shop back to headquarters. Maybe he’d check in if he didn’t find anything to his liking.

“Hiya! What can I get ya?” the girl at the window said.

“Well, that depends. How malted is your chocolate shake?” he asked. “Cause I like a huge ol’ scoop of malt flavor if I’m going to have a great big malted shake.”

“We can pile it on in for you, sir,” she said.

“Super. Then I’d love a large chocolate malt,” I said. She went off to make it, and he scanned the tables. Teens. Mostly teens, and some younger kids, townies. No adult men, but some housewives with the little ones. He lit up a cigarette and scanned the teens. There were all kinds of possibilities. What was he in the mood for?

“That’ll be eighty-five cents, sir,” the girl said, handing him a generous-sized paper mug and straw. He gave her a buck. “Don’t bother with the change, doll,” he said, sauntering over to a table near the bulk of the teens. He sipped at his shake, a truly wonderful concoction, and vowed that the little darling who made it up for him would not be on his potentials list. She earned her reprieve.

Sam’s eyes and ears soon turned to a couple tables in the corner of the seating area. A group of six teens, three boys and three girls, was having some kind of fight with a single teen girl. She was kind of a fat girl, with big bra-less tits as was the fashion that summer. Rounded ass. Jiggling in all the right places. Sam smiled. The last couple of victims had been skinny, boney things, weak as hell and prone to scream a lot. But not much to grab hold of. This angry girl had the cushion for the pushin’.

“Screw you, Jake Simpson!” she was practically yelling. “I know your mom! She wouldn’t like that!”

They responded with pig noises. Sam had no idea what the fight was about. It didn’t matter. “Mandy’s gonna get hers!” one of the girls said. Presumably Mandy was the rounded one. Sam wanted to hear more, but Mandy got up and stormed off. She got on an old bike and pedaled off. Same was careful to not be seen watching her. She turned left. Excellent. A right turn back into town and it wouldn’t have worked. But heading out away from town was just fine. He sipped at his shake for a bit and then slowly headed back to the caddie. No one seemed to pay any attention to the stranger passing through and grabbing a cold snack on the way out of town.

Riding down the country lane, Sam frowned as he got to a fork in the road just a hundred yards down the road, and no sign of Mandy. Such was the luck of the draw. He went right and hoped for the best. About a mile down the road he spotted her, huffing and puffing and working up a good sweat as she headed back to whatever she called a home. She looked about sixteen, give or take a year. Probably a virgin, but it was hard to tell with these southern girls. The more they went to church, the sluttier they were the other six and a half days of the week; it was practically universal. Sam pulled alongside Mandy’s bike and clipped her rear tire just a bit. He was ready to veer hard to the left if she fell left, but she fell right, down into the bushes. He quickly stopped.

“Oh dear, that’s entirely my fault! I’m so sorry, miss. Are you alright!” he cried, running down to help her.

“You hit me! How dumb are you!” she yelled, getting up, a bit skinned on her elbows, but that was it. Sam grinned. She was a fighter. All the better. As he walked up, all concerned and fretful, he grabbed her around her neck by one arm and pulled her into the trees, his other hand over her mouth. She began to scream and struggle, and she was fairly strong, but she still never stood a chance. Sam shoved her to the ground, face-down, and used the rope in his pocket to bind her wrists, then her ankles.

“Get off me you motherfucker!” she screamed, but she said nothing further. He had the wadded-up rag gag ready, with the right length of rope to tie around her head. It was pretty muffling. Now, with Mandy temporarily secured, he darted back out from the trees, tossed her bike into his trunk using cloth to keep fingerprints off it, and pushed the books aside to leave room for Mandy. He went back, lifted her up with some difficulty, as she was heavy and uncooperative, and got her into the trunk. He tied her hands to the floor using a D-ring he’d bolted in place years earlier. Then he closed the lid and took off. He would strip her later, when no cars were likely to come by.

Now Sam was a lot happier, cruising down the road with the wind whipping around, a girl in the trunk, and an excellent chocolate malted milkshake still unfinished in the cup-holder his luxury package included. He glanced at a map and found the quickest way onto really remote roads. After fifteen minutes, he was way out in the middle of nowhere. He pulled over and stopped, then opened the trunk lid. Mandy was screaming, her face red from tears. He pulled her bike out and dragged it into the woods, about a hundred yards from the road. He returned and opened the lid back up, only to flash Mandy his big knife. She melted, reduced to incoherent sobs. She was trying to say something, but it didn’t matter. The knife wasn’t for her, it was for her clothing. He cut away everything she had on, making sure she saw her tight tee-shirt go to ribbons, her shorts go to ribbons, and her K-Mart undies go to ribbons. Her footwear, he finally noticed, was just a pair of flip flops. Easy to cut in half and rip up the rubber. Mandy got to watch it all before he stuffed the remains in a paper bag and tossed it back in beside her. The clothes burning could come later.

Again he closed the lid on Mandy, now shaking with sobs. He paused to feel her up and bit, running his hands along her jiggly wiggly flesh, making her cry out and cringe, cupping her tits and bit and poking her pussy just a bit with his fingers. Yes, she’d be awesome. Now he drove off, in search of more desolation. He would need to be at least a hundred miles away, and hopefully it would take that long for her to be missed. It probably would. Unless she had babysitting jobs lined up, a girl like Mandy would just be expected home by supper, hours away.

There was the small matter of checking in with the company. Oh well, Sam thought. It was going to be a long drive. He went northeast, into Carbile, about seventy miles up the road, and parked at a phone booth at the edge of town where Mandy’s cries wouldn’t be heard. The check-in was routine. Then he swung eastward for another hundred twenty miles, reaching the very rural Vinshode County. There was a trucker dive hotel at the county line he’d used a couple times years earlier. Plenty of country hookers, plenty of runaways looking for rides further from their old homes. Plenty of everything, including privacy, despite the number of people.

“I’m looking for a good night’s rest is all,” Sam told the clerk. “Could I get a room around back, on the far side? Away from the bar.”

“Sure, no sweat,” the clerk said, lazily scribbling down information. “You want sheets?”

“Yeah I want sheets.” Sam replied. The clerk reached down and brought up a bundle of folded clean sheets.

“Dollar extra. That’ll be twelve fifty, cash.”

“Damn inflation,” Sam muttered, forking over the bills. The clerk gave him the room key. He drove the big Caddie around back and parked outside the room. Looking around, he saw perfection. No one was in back, not yet. He wrapped a blanket around Mandy, released her hands from the D-ring, and carried her struggling and weeping inside the room. Then he got his own luggage and locked the two of them in the room for a night of fun and games.

Mandy had slid up the bed, pulling her legs up to her chest, trying to curl up but with her hands bound behind her back. Her face was red and chapped from tears, and her nose had run, dribbling snot down onto her rag gag. Most girls did. It was why Sam rarely cleaned the gag. He grabbed her bound legs and pulled, straightening her out. He leapt on top of her, straddling the terrified girl, touching and rubbing her big floppy tits, pushing them together, wrapping his hands around one to make it bulge upward.

“You get this straight, you little slut!” he told her sternly. “I’m going to rape you tonight. I’m going to rape the fuck out of you, and then I’m going to rape your ass and then it’s going in your mouth to clean me off and suck me off again, got it! You try any shit, and I’ll slice your fucking throat so deep your skull will be flopping around on your neck like a god damned weather vane! Got it?”

Mandy gave a terrified nod. Sam took off his shirt and tie, and then climbed off her to get the rest of his clothes off. The girl lay trembling, staring bug-eyed at his rigid cock. Maybe, Sam thought, she really was a virgin. She may as well have been looking at the visage of the devil himself. No matter, though. He untied her legs and pushed them apart, then climbed up and pressed his cock to her soft, fleshy pussy. She had a bit of hair down there already, so she was young but not too young. He was raging hard, so he slammed into her with a single powerful thrust. Mandy just shrieked into her putrid rag gag, tears again flowing freely from her eyes. Her body jerked in pain. Sam pulled back out and smiled at the sight of her blood. He’d felt the rip on the way in. Sheer beauty it was.

The first rape was the savage, angry rape. It always was. Sam liked to drain his bulging balls quickly, to drive it home to the girls that they were just a piece of fuck meat, and to allow him more time after to slow it down, crank up the fear, and really go to work on them. In a few minutes he was cumming hard into her twat, filling her womb, maybe even putting a little Sam into her belly. He didn’t care either way. Now he pulled out and enjoyed the sight of the broken, weeping Mandy on the bed. How little she knew. He walked to his second suitcase, the one without the clothes. The one with the toys. He opened it up and pondered the various options. He had lots of time.

“You need a bathroom break, bitch?” he asked her. She probably did. She nodded her head. “Then get in there and do it. Don’t try to close the door, and don’t bother wiping with your hands tied.” Mandy stared at him in blank shock. “And you’ve only got a couple minutes before I tie you to the bed and really get to work, so don’t dawdle!”

Now Mandy slithered to the edge of the bed and got up to walk to the bathroom. She was still bound and gagged, and awkwardly got the toilet seat arranged. She sat down. Sam walked over in time to watch her as she peed long and hard, turning her head away from him in shame. When she was emptied, he pulled her back up and walked her to the bed, her cunt uncleansed. He shoved her down and pulled her legs apart, using his custom harnessed ropes to tie them down. He’d done the knots years ago to fit around standard hotel beds for a quick bind. With her legs secure, he finally untied her hands, only to spread her arms up and over her head to the other bed corners. Now the girl was helpless and at his total mercy. And he had none.

He began with a hard flogging. Not the kind in the crappy magazines with the bored models in their panties. The real kind, in the real world, where girls like Mandy who committed the crime of being noticed endured real suffering, and had no real shot at justice. He thrashed the little fat whore good, leaving long stripes across her white, soft skin. Some were hard enough to cut into her, drawling trickles of blood.

“This is for you, whore!” he snarled as he brought the lashes down again and again. “This is what you fucking need!” And Mandy, throughout, could only scream and cry as her body was tortured by the vicious man. She’d done nothing to him. She’d never even seen him. But there he was, inflicting pain and horror and shame on her for no reason. She couldn’t understand it, which was the worst part. Why, why was he treating her so bad? Why did he hate her?

Sam was bothered by none of these questions. He had a whore, he hurt a whore. That was the easiest question to answer in the world. And when he tired of hurting her with the whip, he switched to the needle collection. Mandy’s shrieks took on a new enthusiasm as he sat down on her belly, straddling her, and pressed the first of the needles to her right nipple. He slowly pushed it through, making the girl weep and thrash her head. And then he did the second nipple. She calmed a bit, now that she knew what to expect. Most girls found the needles less painful than the whip, but Sam liked the decorative look when he’d finished circling their tits. On Mandy, he did her right tit with an outward spiral of needles. On the left he did four concentric circles around her nipple. That many needles left her screaming and bleeding, but it was fine with Sam. She needed the pain. Next he moved to her pussy, and that produced a new round of frantic desperation. The needle in her clit was particularly enervating for the girl. He pierced her up and down her slit, hitting every last fold and crevasse in her meaty pussy.

By then Sam was hard as a rock again. He untied her feet and lifted her legs up over his shoulder so he could get at her ass. Her eyes bulged as she realized what he had in mind. It was entirely possible, Sam knew, that she hadn’t comprehended what he meant by raping her ass. Many girls heard that and it just went over their heads. They forgot as soon as they heard it because there were so many things they did understand that terrified them. As it dawned on Mandy just what was about to happen to her her face went white. The blood from her pussy piercings was enough to lube him, and again he drove straight in with a single movement. Mandy’s scream damn near hurt his ears even with the gag. It was heavenly music to his ears, though, and he gladly listened as he rammed her again and again, fast and quick. He managed a good five minutes before finally blowing his load and pulling out. He tied her legs back down before she could recover.

Then he went up to her face, a knife in one hand, and straddled her chest, sitting on her needle-punctured tits with his shitty, bloody cock in her face and the knife pressed to her jaw. “Put it in your mouth,” he said, finally removing the rag gag. “Lick it and suck on it and run your tongue over the length of it until it is clean. Then lick the tip and suck on it until I blow semen into your mouth. Then swallow it and thank me,” he said in an icy cold voice. “Any deviation, and I cut your throat, no hesitation, no appeals, no begging, I just rip your throat out and you die in seconds. Got it?”

“Y-y-yes,” she bawled. He pressed his cock to her mouth and she did what he said. It was terrible, of course. These girls gave the worst head, but it was important that they do it anyway. It took a long time for her to clean him, not puking, and then get him fully hard again. She had the cock in her mouth for a non-stop forty minutes before he finally came again. By then it wasn’t much, but she gulped it down, looking pale and greenish.

“Not bad,” he said as he climbed off her. “A lot of girls end up cut and dumped in a river. But you get to live. For now.” By then he was tired and hungry. He gagged Mandy and headed out to the bar and grill for a greasy burger and fries. They didn’t even have milkshakes, let alone a malted one. He settled on beer. When he returned, Mandy was right where he left her. Now he was tired and wanted to sleep. He got Mandy off the bed, hogtied, and dumped her in the bathtub for the night. Then he put the sheets on the bed and went to sleep.

Morning came, and Sam got up feeling invigorated. He pulled Mandy, who seemed to have not slept at all, from the tub and took a hot shower. Then he dragged her up to the bed. Carefully, he finally pulled all the needles from her body and washed them off before returning them to their case. He hadn’t even gotten to half his stuff, but other girls could suffer the giant butt plug, the pincers, the hooks, and whatnot. Now he parted her legs without even untying the knot holding her hands to her feet, and plowed his cock into her tortured, blistered, cut up cunt. The girl just whimpered. She was beaten and defeated. Some girls took days to defeat, but he didn’t usually have the time. If they survived a single night with their minds intact, more power to them.

He rinsed off after fucking the girl, and then wrapped her up in a blanket to get back in the trunk. He never had gotten around to burning the bag of her clothes, but the motel dumpster was nearby and no one would ever think to look there. He tossed the bag in and got the car loaded up. It was time for another long drive before he dumped the bitch and returned to his regular job of selling encyclopedias to inbreds who thought the moon landing was fake.

It was about a hundred fifty miles further that Sam pulled over at the side of the road. He pulled Mandy out and untied her feet from her arms, leaving both bound individually. He grabbed her legs and dragged her, face down, tits dragging along the ground under her, about a quarter mile into the woods. She lay weeping on the ground. He pulled the gag out, for use with the next girl, but kept the ropes on her.

“This is it, Mandy,” he said. He pulled out his cock and quickly stroked it to fullness before cumming one final time on her face and hair. Then he walked back to the car and drove off. She could get herself up and back to the road in due time. Rescue would come. Sam would be long gone. And that was how Mandy spent her sixteenth birthday.

Present Day Again

“Watch the oxygen hose,” Sam said. “You don’t want to kill me before we reach the car, do you?”

“Technically, no,” the humorless officer replied.

“I’ll make it easy and fun for everyone,” he said. “You give me any name and some evidence connecting me, and I’ll give you a full and detailed confession. But there has to be evidence. No fishing! And you know what else?”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll still have to fight to keep me alive until the trial. And it will be a hard fight indeed.”

The officer said nothing until they were outside. “Take a last look at your happy home, sicko. You’re never going to see it again, and that won’t be a hard fight at all.”


April is Sexual Assault Awareness month. Be advised, the criminal justice system has unlimited access to science and time, and a very long memory. If you commit rape, you will likely be caught. Even if you get away with it for a long time, your last memories of life may well be a jail cell.

April 21, 2017, 02:34:42 PM
Reply #1

Offline gscmar64

Great first story! Wondering just how many there was before Mandy?

April 21, 2017, 07:22:29 PM
Reply #2

Offline SoftGameHunter

Before and after. I'm not really planning to revisit this one, but in my mind I figured he had a lot pre-Mandy, was in his thirties or forties at the time, it was the late 1960s or early 70s when it took place, and he met his wife and quit raping girls sometime probably in his fifties. So he essentially got away with it.

This was what led me to convert the story to the Sexual Assault Awareness Month message. The present day stuff wasn't even there until I'd finished the main story. I realized that even if he got away with it, as he did, he'd still at least end his life in a jail cell, tarnish his own name, humiliate his family, and die hated.

April 21, 2017, 09:17:54 PM
Reply #3

Offline vile8r

Welcome to FFF, softgamehunter. Nice way to introduce yourself on the story forum. Please post more of your past work too!