A literotic sexstories: The Diary Of Insanity – Part 1 by avpa ,
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Thursday 16th May 1991
11:14 pm
Fuck. I’m in deep shit.
If I don’t go to jail I’ll eat my kettle. I bloody well
deserve it.
I just drugged and raped a girl. Yeah, I know, no sweat
right?
But I panicked. I went too far. And how’s she doing now?
How the hell should I know? She’s out cold and tied up
in my basement.
Okay. Deep breaths. Slow it down.
___________________
___________________
Thursday 16th May 1991
11:29 pm
Right. I needed a cup of tea.
I have no idea why I’m writing this down. I can only
assume its the drinks inside me. Oh yes, and the vodka
I’ve been knocking back pretty much since walking through
the front door.
Criminals always seem to be caught when they write their
plans down. Am I really fucking doing this?
Fuck it, maybe I deserve to be caught. And this is too
big a burden to bare. I have to offload it.
I went out for a drink this evening. Didn’t plan much
exciting stuff. Just a few pints with an old friend who
happened to be in town.
I took a train to Clapham, then went on the underground
to Balham. Met him at a pub called ‘The Regent’. Nice
place, good atmosphere.
We had a few drinks. A few too many, actually. Got to
talking about the old days.
See, I’ve known this guy from school. He’s one of my
oldest friends, give or take a few other guys. But I’ve
lost contact with them, whilst I’ve been seeing him
regularly for years now.
His name’s Lee Orton. And he’s fairly fucked up. In fact
I could blame him for tonight. But no, I’ve wanted it to
happen, and now it has. I’ve gotta deal, I guess.
You may wonder what’s so fucked up about him? Well you
wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary if you met
him. He’s quite like me, really. Twenty seven years old,
trying to build some sort of career. But he looks nothing
like me.
He’s tall, black, and muscular. He has a strong jawline,
and neat facial hair that blends perfectly into his bald
head. Dark brown eyes, set deep in his face, give him an
imposing and calculating look. But he makes up for that
with a hearty laugh and a good sense of humour. Often the
life and soul at parties, I feel honoured to be a good
friend of his.
But I digress.
He’s fucked up. I don’t know his past in its entirety,
but I think he’s raped more than one woman. Its unnerving
to think, but I can’t judge him. Not when I’ve always
thought about the crime with a certain sense of longing.
And especially not after tonight. Oh no, I can never judge
anyone again after this.
We left the pub at about nine. He’s got work in the
morning, I had a train journey. So we said our goodbyes
and headed our separate ways.
It was an uneventful journey. The underground was quiet
on a Thursday night, and I saw no one at Clapham Junction
when I passed through it. It was eerie, I even had to get
my ticket from a machine.
I thought I was alone on the train, right up until when
we were approaching Salisbury. The rear carriages were
detaching so I got up and walked, albeit slightly
unsteadily, to the front carriage. Only one other person
sat in there. An attractive young woman.
I sat myself opposite her at the table, and she smiled
pleasantly. Something about the smile looked.. off. She
looked slightly scared.
When she looked back down at her book, I glanced at her
for longer.
She looked to be in her late teens. So maybe woman isn’t
the best word. Maybe she is really a ‘girl’? I dunno,
does it matter? Get it together, man.
She looked to be in her late teens, probably around
eighteen or nineteen. Long blonde hair, swept back in a
wavy flourish, adorned her head. She had a pretty face,
with nice full lips and blue eyes. Looking down, I could
tell even through her oversized lumberjack shirt that
she had a good pair of tits. And I remembered admiring
her legs as I saw them from the aisle. She was wearing
tight leggings, that showed off her slender figure.
All in all, she was a hottie. And one that got me quite
flustered very quickly.
I’ve never been able to shake off that old nervous
feeling I get around cute girls. Been feeling it since
puberty, and every day after that. I’m sure it’ll never
go away entirely.
The tannoy called out that we were about to arrive in
Salisbury, and we both looked up and registered it.
I watched her start to pack things up.
She was getting off the train with me.
Then she did something that sealed her fate.
She got up, took a sip from her bottle of water, then
walked off, evidently to find the toilet just before we
arrived. When she was gone, my mind went into overdrive.
Lee hadn’t left before giving me a little gift.
You see, both Lee and I have always drooled over the
idea of drugged rape. I know how that sounds. Yeah,
psychopath a bit? Well, it is. But hey, we all have our
kinks. Our’s just happens to be a bit extreme.
Lee told me he’s working on it. And just before we left
he passed me something under the table.
A little bottle of Rohypnol.
Roofies, Ruffles, The Date Rape drug, whatever you want
to call it. It was in my pocket. And the possibilities
were endless.
So here I sit, with a cute girl about to get off the
train at the same place as me. And she’s gone to the
toilet leaving her water alone and unprotected.
In a normal state of mind I wouldn’t dream of it. The
risks were huge.
But I was still feeling the effects of drinking with
Lee. And this was a brilliant opportunity, probably
the best I’d get in a while.
I whipped the bottle out of my pocket, and unscrewed
the lid. She would only be gone for a minute. It was
now or never.
I nervously remembered him saying something about..
a few drops.. fifteen to twenty minutes.. it was all
a blur. But if something had gone wrong, I could have
legged it. She’ll forget everything anyhow?
I unscrewed the lid, and squeezed several drops of the
drug into her water. After closing it again and shaking
it for a few moments, I placed her water back down on
the table and stowed away my Rohypnol. All was well.
She returned moments later, to see me twiddling my
thumbs. I hoped I didn’t look too nervous.
I was sweating as she sat. ‘Please, God, make her drink’
I thought.
She did.
Thank God for helping me rape, I guess? I’ll ask for
his forgiveness in the morning.
She drained the last dregs of her water and at the
same time, unbeknownst to her, she dosed up on roofies.
The plan I had hastily put together was put into action.
The train took a couple more minutes to arrive in
Salisbury. I kept glancing at her. She was showing no
signs of anything happening yet. That was good, the
last thing I needed was for her to go down on the train.
I followed her out onto the platform and through the
building. All of that took a few more minutes. I thought
I saw her pace slow as we walked, but that could have
just been wishful thinking. She seemed unconcerned that
I was tailing her all the way to the carpark. But hey,
my car was indeed there too. It wasn’t so far fetch’d.
She was definitely feeling something. She stopped by
what was evidently her car, and fumbled around in her
bag for keys. A couple of times she let out a slurred
curse and ran a hand through her long blonde hair.
I went and stood by a car two down from her’s. It wasn’t
mine, but that didn’t matter. She was nearly gone.
She managed to get her door open, and sat down in the
driving seat. Now was my time to interfere, before she
drove off and killed someone.
I walked over to where she sat and knocked on the window.
She wound it down and gave me a groggy stare.
“Whut?” she asked, a definite slur detectable in her
question.
“Um, high” I said to her. “Do you mind if I borrow your
phone? I just need to call my brother, he’s in hospital.”
I was hoping to call on her sympathy with the bit about
the hospital. Heck, I don’t even have a brother.
She nodded, and reached into her bag. It took a few
moments for her to find the phone, and when she handed
it too me she leant way too far in her seat. I could
see beads of sweat forming on her brow.
I took the phone and pretended to dial, all the while
keeping an eye on her. She had sat back in her seat, and
was staring vacantly at the windscreen.
I gave up on dialing then, and just stood there waiting
for a couple more minutes. She was definitely fucked up
now, slipping lower and lower into her seat. I put her
phone in my pocket, and returned to where she sat.
“Come on, open the door” I said in a soothing voice.
She offered no objections, and clumsily fumbled for the
door handle. After uncatching it, I pulled open the door
and bent low over her. I took her bag, and her keys out
of the car. Then gently lifted her out onto the tarmac
of the road.
Slamming the door shut, and awkwardly locking it with the
keys, I began a very nerve racking journey back to my
car. It was a couple of rows away, and at any point
someone could arrive and see the scene I was presenting.
But evidently god was smiling on me that night. No one
came out of the dark, and I was soon at my car.
I opened the back door and threw her and her bag over
the seats. She was like a ragdoll by now, floppy and
unresponsive. A trail of drool was seeping out of her
mouth, and her eyes were unseeing as they stared into
the rear footwell. The sight would have horrified most
people. But it made me hard as a rock.
I got into the car and pulled away, anxious to put
miles between me and the scene of the crime. We drove
out of Salisbury, in the direction of my house. When
we were several villages away, I took a sharp left turn
into a country lane that I knew no one ever took. It
lead to no where.
I pulled over onto a flat area of grass verge, and turned
the engine off. The silence was grim and forboding, a
sign of what was to come. She had no idea what she was
in for, the amount of sick things I had a chance to try
out. Repressed sexual urges that I had fought for years,
would all now be unleashed on this poor little girl.
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