Sarah Garner was outraged when she discovered her photo on “I Deserve Rape”.
The website was scandalous. It appeared to be a site where women posted nude photos of themselves and argued that they deserved to be raped. The photo of her showed her topless, cupping her large tits, looking up at the camera, giggling. An ex-boyfriend had taken it, and shared it with friends after they had broken up. Any of a few dozen men might have uploaded it to the site.
She emailed the site owners immediately and asked them to remove the photo.
Their response was swift and polite. “We accept your claim that the images in this account are of you,” it said. “Please use the attached link to reset the password on the account so that you can claim ownership and remove the pictures.”
She used the link, and within seconds found herself in control of her profile on the website. But she hesitated in deleting the photo. In the few days it had been on the site, it had gained a substantial number of “Likes”, and a message informed her that her profile was in the “top 50”.
Top 50 what? She clicked around the website, and soon discovered how it worked.
The website was a competition. Visitors could click a button to be shown a pair of recently-updated profiles, and vote for which girl most deserved to be raped. In practice, this appeared to devolve to how shallow, pretty and big-titted the girl was, but many of the girls posted text updates as well, arguing that they were bitches who needed to be violated to teach them a lesson.
Each week, the girls in the top 10 received a cheque for $100. Each week, the girl in first position got $5,000.
Sarah could use $5,000. Even $100 would be nice. Maybe she could leave her photo up a little bit longer.
So she left it there, and over the next 24 hours she watched it climb into the top 40 profiles. But then, suddenly, it stopped climbing, and started dropping.
What was wrong? Did people no longer think she deserved to be raped?
But she worked it out quickly. Profiles needed regular updates to keep getting votes. And each update must include a nude photo.
She dithered. Maybe she should just delete her account. But she had been doing so well, up until today.
She pulled off her top and bra, and took a quick photo of herself pouting for the camera, her big tits on display. She uploaded it to the website, with the text, “I love cockteasing men but never give them what they want. I deserve to be raped to show me that it’s not my choice whether I get fucked.”
She blushed as she did it – it was so slutty – but she got an immediate rush of pleasure as she watched her ranking start going up again.
By the end of the day, she was in the top 30, though progress became slower. Eager to continue her upward progress, Sarah looked over the top-rated girls and took notes. For her next photo, she was completely nude, wearing a dog collar, and spreading her pussy wide open for the camera. The website loved it, and Sarah’s profile ticked up into the top 25.
She decided to poke the anthill, and added text that said, “I love spreading my cunt for you, knowing that you dickless masturbators would never dare to actually rape me.”
It was just what she needed, and soon she was surging through the top 20.
She made it into the number 10 place with a day left in the week. If she was still there tomorrow, she’d receive a cheque. But could she maybe get to #1? She looked at the current winners again, and they all had something in common – the humiliated blush on their cheeks as they took some last step of degradation in the hopes of achieving the approval of anonymous men.
Sarah felt that blush coming to her own cheeks as she prepared for the photo that would carry her to victory. She stripped nude and played with her pussy till she was sopping wet. Then she spread her cunt juices over her face and tits, before taking the wiry toilet brush from the bathroom and jamming the end into her cunt.
It hurt – a lot – and she was moaning with pain and humiliation as she took the photo, but when she looked at the image she had produced – at how degraded and sub-human she looked in it – she found herself cumming uncontrollably.
She uploaded it, with the text, “Please, please rape me. Please. I need it so much.”
The next day, she was #1 on the website. A message told her that her cheque was in the mail.
But something else had happened. A red label had appeared on her profile, reading “SOLVED”. She clicked through and it took her to the website’s forums.
She had never looked at these before, but there was a whole thread about her, with people commenting on what a whore she was, and how much she needed to be raped. And then, at the end of the thread, was a post from someone who said they knew her.
“This is Sarah Garner,” it said. “I worked with her once.” And then it listed off her full contact details – including her phone number and home address.
She stared at it in horror. People knew who she was and where she lived. And they wanted to rape her. And if she protested to the police, they would see this website, see her begging to be raped while she fucked herself with a toilet brush. She would be laughed out of the police station.
She desperately tried to delete her profile, but it only returned an error message: “Solved profiles cannot be deleted.”
There was a knock at her front door. A male voice called out, “Sarah Garner? There are a couple of us out here. Just admirers. Why don’t you come out and play?”
She whimpered. She had left the front door unlocked. They would be in soon, no matter what she did.
Rape wouldn’t be quite so bad if she was wet for it, she thought to herself. She might even enjoy it. Any cock would be better than that toilet brush.
So she dipped her hand to her pussy, began to masturbate, and, in a shaky voice, called, “Come in.”
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