The Religious Bookstore

by Jefferson James

The first thing that Claire noticed when she returned from the backroom of the small religious bookstore she staffed for the local orphanage was that the blinds had been pulled and the neon sign that said “Closed” had been switched on. The next thing she noticed was the faint smell of aftershave. With her heart racing faster than it ever had, her hand shot to the telephone. It was dead.

A large, well-dressed man with a gun in his hand stepped from behind the bookcase closest to the door, and said, “You’re here all alone, aren’t you?”

Clair didn’t answer, but knew the look on her face had done that for her. She considered screaming, but she knew it would do no good. There was no one to hear her at this time of night. The other shops had all closed and the shopkeepers gone home. She’d stayed late to unpack some new books that had just arrived. It hadn’t occurred to her that it might be dangerous to leave the store open. Bad things happened in big cities, not small Utah towns.

The man’s accent, though, told her he wasn’t local. Her best guess was that he was from New York or New Jersey. He looked and sounded like a character from The Sopranos. That, however, didn’t scare her as badly as the gun in his hand. Still holding the phone to her ear as if it might miraculously start working again, she asked, “What do you want?”

“Well, I certainly didn’t come in here for salvation,” he said, chuckling. “The boss had some business in town that didn’t require me and I’m just doing a little moonlighting.”

Lowering the non-working phone back to the counter top, Claire gestured toward the cash register and said, “There isn’t much, but you’re welcome to it.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” the man said, sauntering closer. “I’m more interested in… What’s that politically correct word they use these days? Violated? Yeah, that’s it, violated. I’d much rather violate you, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do, too.”

Sending a display rack full of books crashing to the floor between her and the man, Claire bolted into the back room. If she could just…  She charged to the rear exit, hitting the bar that unlatched it, and shoved hard. It didn’t budge.

“If I was smart enough to take care of the phone, do you think I’d be stupid enough to not take care to the door? You’re not getting away and nothing else you do is going to change things either.”

The calm certainty in his voice sent shivers up Claire’s spine. Turning slowly, she saw the same determination in his eyes. Unlike her, he wasn’t even breathing hard. He exuded self-confidence like no one she had ever seen before. Why shouldn’t he? She was an average-sized woman and no weakling, but he was easily twice her size and looked like he could break her in half with one hand tied behind his back.

As she stood there trembling, searching desperately for options to weigh and not finding a single one, the man nonchalantly slipped the gun into the pocket of his sport coat. He had announced his intention of raping her as if brutalizing women was something he did all the time. It may not have in fact been true, but Claire felt certain that it was.

“There’s no point in this being any worse than it has to be,” he said, sliding a pair of brass knuckles onto his right hand. “No matter what it takes, I’m going to fuck you. You think about that for a second.  …no matter what it takes.”

Inching sideways, Claire kicked off her low heels and broke into a dead run, heading for the main part of the store. He had probably locked the front door too. She wouldn’t even bother trying it: She’d dive headlong through the plate glass window.

“…no matter what it takes,” his words echoed in her head.

“No matter what it takes, I’ve got to get away!” she told herself.

The blow to her mid-section lifted Claire off her feet, literally. As the air was forced out her lungs, she heard a soft buzzing. She was bent at the waist, draped over a stack of boxes and was barely aware of how she’d gotten that way.

As she struggled to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her, Claire felt a strong, powerful forearm lie across the back of her shoulders, pinning her down. She also felt a hand slide down the small of her back and into the cleft of her buttocks.

“I really love these long dresses,” a far off voice said. “Getting a woman out of a pair or pants can be a little work, and pantyhose are just as bad. There’s nothing between you and me, though, except your skirt and your panties, am I right?”

The buzzing in Claire’s ears cleared just in time for her to hear herself whimper in humiliation. The probing fingers had found their intended destination. Her attacker was fondling and grouping her in a place where very few men had ever touched her before. She tried to break free, but couldn’t budge her own body any more than she’d budged the door.

To Claire’s surprise, the hand groping her retreated. A small part of her was relieved. She knew, however, that things would get a lot worse before they got better, and she wouldn’t have to wait long before she would be experiencing just how bad it would get. She felt the man’s warm, minty breath on the back of her ear as he leaned over her.

“Listen to me,” he said, in a firm, expressionless voice. “Listen to me very carefully.”

Tensing, Claire felt the coolness of the room on her calves and then on the back of her knees as her peasant skirt was slowly gathered onto the small of her back and her quivering legs became more and more exposed.

“The next time I have to punch you, it’s going to be in the face,” she was told. “I’m likely to break your nose or maybe your jaw. It doesn’t have to be that way, though. There are two ways we can go about this. I’m going to fuck you, either way.  …no matter what it takes.”

The brass knuckles slide coarsely across her cheek as a reminder of their presence.

“This can be our little secret. Ask yourself what your friends and neighbors will think of a good little church-goer like you letting herself be fucked by a stranger. If you want everyone to know you’ve been raped, fought valiantly but were raped anyway, that suits me fine. I’ll work you over good. They can come visit you in the hospital and imply it’s your fault for not locking the door. Even though that wouldn’t have made any difference at all.”

Stroking her hair gently, he continued, saying, “It doesn’t have to be that way, though. I’m going to fuck you, but I don’t have to rough you up. No one needs to know about it unless you tell them. You think about that. You think about that hard. No getting hurt, no trip to the hospital, no one looking at you like a piece of trash.”

Claire knew he was right. She knew the people of the town. They would blame her, no matter how hard she fought to defend her honor. She also knew fighting would barely make a difference in how long it would take him to do what he intended on doing. She was too proud to cooperate, but she was also too scared to resist.

He had already finished raising her skirt. With one powerful yank, he ripped her panties from her and tossed them aside. Now there was nothing between him and her but a little distance. As hard as she prayed, she knew that would soon be gone too.

“You spread your legs,” he continued in the same calm voice,. “I’ll slip my cock up your cunt, fuck you and then I’ll leave you in peace. Deal? You can beg me to stop if you like. Of course I won’t, but it might make you feel better knowing you’d done all you could short of anything stupid.”

Begging would only add to his enjoyment. Resistance was futile. Cooperation was unthinkable. As if reading her mind, her attacker chuckled. Claire winced with pain twice in rapid succession as his foot made contact with the inside of each of her ankles, kicking her feet wider apart. Faster than she would have thought possible, he had his penis out of his pants and she felt its warm bulbous head nestled between her labia.

Her body had betrayed her and she knew he felt the wetness. Her vagina was prepared to accommodate him, her feminine secretions inviting him in like a moist welcome mat. Her humiliation forced her to tense, to twist and resist. What little pride she had left wouldn’t allow her to be thought of as a wanton woman.

He didn’t even seem to notice as he held her securely in place, groaned and said, “Here we go.”

Due to the amount of natural lubricant supplied by her fear, Claire expected to be penetrated fully with a single thrust. She wasn’t, and rapidly became aware of why that was. The man raping her had a penis much thicker than any of the three men who comprised her limited experience. Her vagina was being penetrated for what would be only the eighth time in her entire life, but she was certain this man had one larger than most men.

“Don’t worry,” he said in response to a small cry of pain escaping Claire’s lips. “I’ve shoved it in tighter places. In high school, my best friend and I raped his little sister. I lost track a long time ago of just how many women and girls I’ve shoved it into. Plenty of them were older than you, but a lot of them were younger, much younger. You don’t want to know how young the youngest one was.”

Claire tried her very best to tune out his words. He was telling her about the youngest one, how he had raped her, her sister and mother. Thankfully, Claire only heard a distant droning sound. She found, however, that ignoring her aching vagina was far more difficult. His thrusts were slow and deliberate, filling her fuller than she had ever been filled before, stretching her more than she ever imagined she would be, other than giving birth.

Birth! What if he impregnated her. How would she explain that to her friends and neighbors. Like a time bomb ticking away, his penis surged in and out, in and out. He had stopped talking and was breathing harder than before. Faster, deeper, harder, he plunged into her. There wasn’t a doubt in Claire’s mind that he was on the very verge of ejaculating.

“Please!” she croaked. “Please, don’t finish inside me. I don’t want to get pregnant. You said it would be our little secret.”

He chuckled, and asked, “You’re not on the pill or anything?”

Frantically, Claire shook her head, begging, “Pleeeeease!”

Much to her relief, Claire felt her vagina immediately vacated by the long, thick, meaty unwelcome intruder. Her relief vanished just as immediately when instead of feeling semen splattering on her naked lower back and buttocks, she heard the words, “I guess that means you want me to shove it in a tighter place.”

With terror and panic in her voice, Claire gasped, “No!”

“You’ve only got two choices,” she was told. “Either you risk getting knocked up, or you take it where the sun don’t shine. Offering to swallow or anything else you might be thinking isn’t even open for discussion. You’ve got about three seconds to decide. Where do you want the slick and slimy, in your cunt or up your butt?”

Claire swallowed hard. She kept track of her cycle out of habit and knew exactly how fertile she was at the moment. Tears began streaming down her cheeks as she pictured the pocket calendar in the bottom of her nightstand drawer. The odds were the very worse they could be, and she wasn’t a gambler.

“I’m too fertile,” she said out loud, more to herself than to the hated man waiting impatiently behind her.

The huge head of his penis, still wet with her own vaginal secretions, pressed against Claire’s anus.

“I’ve pried open many a sphincter, Miss Religious Book Store Lady,” she was told. “Let me give you a little advice. The more you fight it, the more it’ll hurt. It’s going to hurt no matter what. If you’re smart, though, you’ll just go limp and take it like a good little butt slut.”

Claire wasn’t completely naive. In seminary school she’d known girls who considered anal sex an alternative to losing their virginity and a way to be more popular, get better grades or both. They’d told her it was painful, but if the man went slow and used a lot of lubricant, it wasn’t excruciating. As her attacker applied more weight to her back, pinning her to the boxes even more securely, Claire was certain neither of those would be options.

She heard an evil laugh, braced herself and instantly was engulfed by a tsunami of white hot, searing pain. It was a wonder she didn’t lose consciousness, and she sincerely wished she had. Whether he had managed to stab his entire over-sized penis into her virgin anus in a single thrust or not, she did know and didn’t care. Nothing could have hurt more.

In spite of his warning, her sphincter tightened and she twisted and turned, fighting as hard as she could, screaming at the top of her lungs. It did no good at all. He continued plowing into her, slamming into her, pounding his penis up her butt as hard and as fast as he could. The buzzing had returned to her ears and for a moment she thought she might pass out.

The buzzing subsided, however, as the pain became just barely bearable. She had lost the will to do anything but die, and her tortured anus had quit fighting against the massive intruder. She was still in more pain than she had ever been, but just laid there limp hoping desperately that it would be over soon.

“I liked when you asked for it, but not nearly as much as when you screamed,” the man savaging her said.

His hands slid under her and yanked down the front of her peasant skirt. A split second later she was squealing as loud as she could again as her nipples were viciously pinched and twisted. The thick penis pumping away in her rectum picked up speed. Even though she didn’t think it would be possible, it began ramming into her bottom even harder than before. Thankfully, the grunting that indicated the beginning of the end had also begun.

Then, to Claire’s unadulterated horror, the cruel beast yanked his penis out of her butt and shoved it back up her vagina. Within two strokes, she felt herself flooded and awash with semen as he ejaculated. Tears filled her eyes and a sinister snicker filled her ears.

“If you have a girl, maybe I’ll come back someday and fuck her too.”

Suddenly, Claire found herself in a heap on the floor. He was gone. She crawled to the front door and locked it. She knew it was only a symbolic act, but she had to do it just the same. Staggering into the washroom, she lifted her skirt and washed her vagina, inserting two fingers in an attempt to remove as much semen as possible. It was a symbolic act too. There was no doubt in her mind that in a few months time her belly would be swelling and she’d have to leave town and start a new life, leaving behind the religious book store.

The End

(c) Copyright January 2012 by Jefferson James. All rights reserved. No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, except for a single copy, by and for the person reading this notice, for private reading.