When is rape not rape? When she says yes (fiction)

I did nothing wrong. What I did was not illegal, and I
won’t go to jail.

Was it ethical? Moral, religiously, politically
correct… probably not. But it wasn’t really illegal.
Obviously I don’t want my name associated with the
events though. Have you ever had a secret? Have you ever
done something so deliciously, saucy, so utterly wicked
that it makes you giggle just a bit? To plan it, to
execute it, to get away with it–and then be unable to
tell anyone…it’s maddening. It is not fair. God bless
the Internet. I’m going to tell you what I did, what I
will continue to do.

I’m writing this story under my pen name “Jaz.” It’s not
the first one, far from it. I’ve posted 27 nasty fics
before this. The only difference is this one is really
true. I’ve been fascinated by rape, and to a lesser
extent incest since I was a teenager. It was a dark,
dirty secret that I kept hidden from all who know me.
The idea of forcing, tricking, humiliating a tasty,
little cuntwich, breaking her, bending her to my will…
I don’t have the words to express how much I wanted to
do that in real life. It’s been my fantasy for as long
as I can remember, but I never have crossed that line.
You see, I am a coward. I was simply too afraid to act
on my desires. Oh I’d dream about it, write about even.

But I am an intelligent man. I know myself. It was a
simple equation, if I rape a girl/woman once I will
enjoy it. If I enjoy it I will do it again and again
with other women. If I do it enough times THEN the law
of averages demands I will be caught. THEN I will lose
my job. Then I will go to jail. As a Rapist in Jail, I
will be raped myself. Being a gutless bastard, I never
took the chance, never had the courage to take the risk.
I am 32 years old and I thought rape would forever be
just beyond my grasp. Then god (um ok maybe it was
someone else) smiled upon me, and showed me how to get
what I wanted. Better still it is completely legal, I
won’t go to jail, ergo I won’t be raped myself. Here’s
how it happened.

“Bring! Professor Jaz! Wait up I need to talk to you.”

I could not quite place the face of the young lady
calling my name. She was very pretty. She looked like a
friendly, intelligent, kid. Not quite innocent, but
certainly no slut. She was sexy, but did not seem to
know it. In a few years she’d grow into herself.
Perfect, the kind of girl I would love to humiliate,
dreamed of raping. The ass on her swayed seductively.
Her sweet tits were made to be sucked. Her mouth looked
like it would just barely fit around my dick, she might
gag a little but she was a good girl, I knew she’d
swallow.

“Yes, what can I do to you, Ms…”

“Johnson, Susan Johnson. I’m in your Intro to Creative
Writing class this semester. I need some help passing
it…I have missed a few classes,” she mumbled as her
voice trailed off to nothing.

Oh god I remembered her now. I had barely seen the girl
in months. As a tenured professor in a major eastern
university I have seen it before. It always made me mad.
Students take a puff class like Creative Writing, so
they can coast along to an easy B , while devoting the
extra time and energy to other classes, or partying.
I’ve seen it, but rarely to this degree. There was less
than a month to go in the semester. That meant a term
paper, and the final exam. It did represent a combined
60% of the grade.

Theoretically there was a chance…

“Ms. Johnson I don’t see how I can help you. It is too
late. I’d have to check my records but you are failing
quite severely. You have not been attending class other
than to take the tests, and have missed several quizzes.
What precisely do you expect me to do?”

We had been walking the whole time and finally reached
my office. I sat down and scowled at her from across my
desk.

“Please Professor Jaz, I need your help. I don’t know
what to do. I failed Chem. class already, my parents
won’t continue to pay if my grades drop below a B-. I
can’t fail Creative Writing. I’ll do anything. Special
projects, extra assignments. Just help me… pleasse,”
she said as she whined, and begged, and dripped her
tears on my floor. I remember getting very hot, and
itchy as the plan came to me. She’d do anything?!! I
could have this girl against her will but with her
consent! I had to be careful, I did not want to expose
myself, or scare her off.

“Ms. Johnson, stop crying. I hate to see a pretty young
woman in tears(Sigh). I’ll try to help you, but I need
to give it some thought. You will have to work around my
schedule. Here is my address. Meet me at my apt at
10pm.”

“Oh thank you Professor Jaz, I can’t believe this, thank
you,” she squealed as she gave me an impulsive hug.

The tips of her nipples mashed into me, and I wondered
what they tasted like. Were her tits salty, or sweet?
Were they fat round ones, or perky cone shaped tits that
sat high and proud on her chest? I would find out soon.

I had work to do. I spent the rest of the afternoon on
the Internet, and in the law library. I needed to know
what the Code was in my state. I checked, Susan was 19
years old, so I was safe from statutory rape charges.
Next I looked up blackmail. It was quite confusing. In
essence it is a puzzle, wrapped in mystery, surrounded
by an enigma. No two definitions completely agree.

In my state here is the legal definition:

“BLACKMAIL – A criminal act of extortion, malicious
threatening to do injury to another to compel him to do
an act against his will. Usually involves the threat to
release information, often true, about the person that
will defame his reputation or bring criminal actions
against him. The criminality lies not in the release of
the information – at least if true – but in the
extortionate aspects of the threat to do so.”

What I planned would be very different than this. I
would not be malicious. Susan would get something she
wanted out of our arrangement. It was straight Quid Pro
Quo. I got what I wanted, she got what she needed. I
really would help her. I certainly had no desire to
“release information” about what we did together. I
wanted it kept secret as much as she would.

The other legal concept I investigated was coercion.

Here is an excerpt from what I found on Coercion law:
“…but only because of force or coercion in the form of
intimidation and threats of bodily harm to himself or
his family…intimidation or coercion must be present
and immediate, and must be of such a nature that it
induces a reasonable and well-founded fear of death or
serious bodily injury to one’s self or someone else; and
there must be no reasonable opportunity to escape the
coercion…”

I was not going to threaten her with bodily harm, she
would have every opportunity to leave. No statutory, no
blackmail, no coercion, no rape, no crime, no jail.

Bottom line, Susan would make the decision–it would be
her choice, every step of the way. If she said no, she
was free. Free to leave, free to fail, free to accept
responsibility for what she had done, free to flip
burgers, or type in an office. She was free to sell her
body on the street or worse sell it to her husband.

No, if I read her right that was not the freedom Susan
wanted. She would give herself to me, allow me to have
her sweet tender young body. She just would not like it,
heh. Tough shit. No it was not rape, it was BETTER.

She arrived at 10pm on the dot.

“Ding Dong Susan come in, have a seat.”

“Thanks Professor Jaz, I love your house.”

“When we are not at school how about I call you Susan,
and you call me Jaz. Now then here is Roger Berkeley’s
first dissertation on creative thought. Why don’t you
read through Chapter his essay on Dissociative thought
and we’ll get started.”

I had intentionally picked an advanced , and confusing
author for Susan to review. Roger Berkley was a pompous
ass who liked the sound of his own voice. His
conflicting ramblings would be impossible for Susan to
decipher.

It took her an hour to realize it. When she did, when
she was desperate she started to cry.

“Susan, what’s wrong how can I help…come here tell Jaz
all about it.”

More than anything else the teenager wanted comfort. She
wanted someone to hold her and tell her everything would
be ok. She came to me as I held open my arms and held
her in a fatherly embrace. I walked her to the couch and
pulled her down next to me, still keeping one arm around
her shoulders as I made gentle shushing sounds and
stroked her hair.

“What am I going to do? I can’t understand anything he
is saying! I’m so stupid. My life is over, I’m going to
flunk, and get kicked out of here. Oh god Jaz what am I
going to do?!”

“Sigh… you are in a tough spot Susan. You have put
yourself in a difficult position. I’m sympathetic to a
point. I think we have to give up on you passing this
course legitimately. It’s just too late.”

“Professor… what do you mean? Is there a way you would
let me pass this course another way? I’ll do anything…
uh, well almost anything…” her voice trailed off.

“I said I was sympathetic, there is a reason for it.
When I went for my doctorate. I almost failed. I would
have but my Professor allowed me to pass. She needed a
service done, and I needed a grade. We worked out a fair
trade. Nobody got hurt and we were both happy with the
results.”

“Er, um what did you have in mind?” Susan began to
realize how close she was sitting to me, how my arm
wrapped around her possessively. My hand was touching
the side of her left breast in an innocent, friendly
manner. She was alone in a large man’s house,
practically sitting in his lap. For the first time she
became uncomfortable. Heh, not for long.

“Susan, I’m going to tell you a secret, how you can help
me. If you do, I’ll make sure you pass my course. You
can never tell anyone. If you do, you’ll ruin me, and
I’ll destroy you. I’m… gay. The Dean of this
University is a raging homophobe, and so are most of the
senior faculty. If word gets out they’ll find a way to
fire me. Some people are already suspicious. I’ve been
discreet, but shit, I’m 32, unmarried, and don’t date.”

“So here’s the favor. I need a distraction. I need a
young, attractive female to pretend that she is madly in
love with me. That we are lovers. Nothing major. A few
steamy public kisses, some light petting, and slight
nudity where others can see. A few love letters from
you. Then a major, screaming breakup. I’ll get a slap on
the wrist for dating a student, but they’ll all think
I’m straight and will leave me alone. You will pass my
class. Win/Win. Do we have a deal?”

She he was quiet for a few seconds. Then she agreed.

“Ok, then let’s figure out how we are gong to make this
look realistic.”

First I pulled out some old student’s term papers, and
helped her understand them. We studied for about an
hour. I gave her several to review. She had to be able
to write her own, convincingly enough, so that if her
grade was questioned her work would be believable. Susan
was a bright girl, and she did fine. I could tell she
was in a good mood. She would pass, and would not have
to go home. Now it was my turn.

“Susan we have a problem. Um, I have never kissed a
girl. I can’t look like a gay man kissing a woman when
we do it in public. I have to look like an experienced
kisser. More than that–WE have to look like people who
are used to kissing each other, who like it. We are
going to have to practice a lot. I don’t see any way we
can avoid it.” She blushed prettily, but said she
understood. I asked her lots of questions about how she
liked to be kissed, where I should put my hands, where
to put my tongue. I pretended to be a shy, nervous,
pansy.

It was easy. My brother is gay. I can just imagine him,
or one of his friends making out with a girl, I acted
the way I thought they would act. The first time I
kissed her I intentionally bumped her head. Then I
missed her lips and kissed the side of her nose.

“Stop laughing at me. I’m sorry, I’m trying, I don’t
know what I’m doing. It’s useless, I’ll never pass for
straight.”

“Jaz it’s ok, I’ll teach you. We have time. We’ll
practice until we look convincing.” I spent the next
hour sucking Susan’s pretty face. Slowly I learned how
to kiss. Nibbling her pouty lips, holding her close,
hugging her tight as we made out. My hands played with
her belly and her ribcage. She gripped my ass. I wanted
her so bad, but I knew it would be a mistake. Around 1am
I knew we had to stop. Susan was clearly worked up. She
was breathing hard and almost ready for me. Yup it was
time to stop. I erased all traces of lust from my face.

“Thank you for helping Ms. Johnson, I think I’m starting
to get the hang of this. Why don’t we meet back here
tomorrow and practice some more. Here are two papers for
you to study, as well as my personal lecture notes and
the final exam from 3 years ago. Study them well. You
will really have to learn the material. You are not just
a beautiful young woman. You are an intelligent student,
and I know you can do this. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She kissed me quickly and hugged me tight before saying,
“Thanks again Jaz, you are the best.”

Over the course of the next week my evenings were very
busy. Susan came over every night and we practiced being
on dates. Watching movies, talking like lovers, holding
hands. I purchased several gay porn mags. I left them
out where she could see them. I told her that I used
them so I could get hard for her. You see, to be
realistic I needed to get hard after a passionate kiss.

Occasionally I brushed her nipples through her clothing
and grinded my cock deep in her crotch area, while
kissing her. Sometimes I played with her jean covered
ass, while sucking her tongue, or playing with her tits
through her clothes. When things started getting too
heavy I’d stop so she could study. I really did teach
her the material, she would be able to pass.

I helped her write her love letters to me. She told me
how much she needed me, how much she wanted me to fuck
her. I made it sound like it was all one sided, that
nothing had happened yet.

Here is the excerpt from one: “I love you Professor Jaz.
I know we can be together one day. I need you so bad. I
want to give myself to you, to surrender. It drives me
crazy when other women look at you. I need you, you are
mine. One day you will admit that to yourself. One day
you will make me your wife. I dream about you every
night. How it will feel when I am pinned beneath you.
When your strong hands cup and caress me, mold my flesh.
Fuck me Jaz, please god, fuck me! I am your property,
and I need to be thickly fucked by you. I will be so
good master, I will obey you. Please just give me a
chance. Sincerely, Your little slave, Susie.”

She was quite embarrassed by the letter but agreed to
sign it, doused it in her perfume, and lipstick kissed
it.

It was time.

Susan still did not understand what I had planned for
her. You see I did not want to simply kiss her, play
with her ass, and fondle her tits. Through her clothes I
wanted to RAPE HER!!

She had no clue what I was setting her up for. Remember,
I’m not gay and nobody on campus thought I was. That was
all a lie. I needed to convince people that Susan was an
obsessed stalker, who had fixated on me. I took Susan’s
letter to a few of my friends. co-Professors, and Sr.
faculty.

I told them all how I was shocked and very upset about
the wild crush one of my students had on me. I did not
want to ruin the poor girl but I needed to protect
myself. I went to these people in confidence and asked
them not to tell anyone. I was careful not to give
Susan’s last name. I wanted people to know I had a sex
slut student, who was obsessed with me. If it ever got
out I wanted my version of events to be the only one
that counted.

I instructed Susan to meet me at my office, at 4pm. She
didn’t know it but I had scheduled several of my
students to meet me there that afternoon to help them
with their term paper. They were all gathered in the
hallway, waiting for me to come out, when Susan knocked
on the door demanding to see me.

“Jaz, please let me in, I love you. I need to talk with
you, I missed you so much. I’m so horny, I need you
inside of me. Pleassse!” She said in a loud tone that
could be heard in the hallway, as she closed the door
behind her.

I came around the desk to meet her and began kissing her
wildly. I opened her blouse and fondled her tits
roughly, squeezing and pinching her nipples through her
bra, the way I knew she liked it. She had become used to
my touch, craved it on some level. The public display
excited her, and it only took a few seconds to get her
visibly hot. I pressed her up against the door sucking
her bottom lip and thrusting my crotch into her skirt
while playing with her juicy ass.

Then I opened the door, so everyone could see us.

“Ms Johnson, please let me go. Stop touching me this
instant. I am your teacher, control yourself. As I’ve
told you before there can be nothing between us. It
would be unethical. Button your shirt and never, bother
me again. Are we clear!” I said as I thrust her away
from me. Susan was stunned, completely surprised. She
burst into tears, with a dazed look on her face.

It looked exactly like a woman who had been spurned and
betrayed by the man she loved. One of the female
students went to console her. A glance at the crowd
around her and we both knew the rumor would spread
quickly. She wanted me, and I refused her. Perfect!

Susan did not call me that night. The next day was the
final exam. She came to class and barely looked my way.
All around her people were whispering. She seemed
focused on the task ahead and blocked them out. Susan
did an amazing job. She earned an 81.For a student who
had missed most of the year that was incredible, our
study sessions had paid off.

I gave her a 73.

She was not happy. That night she pounded on my door.
She had clearly been crying but now she was just angry.

“Why did you treat me that way yesterday. You made me
look like a total slut, a whore. Then you give me this
bullshit score. How could you do that, a 73, that does
me no good. I’m still going to fail!”

“Susan, our agreement was very clear. I needed people
to believe I’m straight. I also need to keep my job.
I can’t have them thinking we are really lovers.
Especially if I am going to give you a passing grade
that you don’t deserve. We would have been under a
microscope if people knew I loved you. This way I get
what I want, and so do you, with no risk to either one
of us. I said I would help you pass the course. I will
honey. You need a 91 on your term paper to receive a 69
for the year. You will get it. I promise.”

By :

Check Also

Discovering a wet fetish

It was summer. And time for our annual extended family camping trip. We’d done it …

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.