Story: The Stepford Pattern, Part 4

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three

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Harrison spent a day preparing.  He hired a non-descript unmarked van, and then prepared a piece of cloth to hang over its licence plates.  He went to the local hardware store and bought zip ties, rope and other equipment.  He visited an adult store and bought a few other supplies including gags and cuffs.  It was expensive, but he saw it as an investment in ultimately freeing Jenny from the Pattern.  And in any case, soon he would have her sign over her property to him, and he could use her money to reimburse himself for the costs.

He practiced a little on Jenny.  He dressed her in one of his old shirts and some underwear, and then practiced grabbing her from behind, one hand covering her mouth, the other holding a knife to her throat, as he dragged her back onto the bed.  Then he gagged her with his new ball gag, tied her wrists to the bedposts, and cut the clothes off her body with his knife, before repeatedly slapping her, and then raping her.  He told her to struggle as hard as she could, as if her life depended on it, and he found that slamming his cock into her cunt as she bucked wildly beneath him was incredibly arousing. 

The idea of doing this to another woman – a stranger, a beautiful redhead – and knowing that it was the moral thing to do because it was in the best interests of both that woman and Jenny – brought him quickly to orgasm, and he groaned as he ejaculated into Jenny’s once-lesbian cunt.

He didn’t tell Jenny why he was practicing.  The less she knew, the better.  He just ungagged her so she could suck his cock clean and then transfer his cum from her pussy to her mouth.

He looked at her afterwards, her cheeks red from both arousal and his slaps, her eyes filled with tears but also shining with humiliating lust, and he felt a glow in his heart.  He remembered the intelligent, confident (though still lewdly busty) woman that she had once been, and vowed in his heart – even if he couldn’t risk saying it out loud – that he would free her from these slutty hypnotic shackles.

It was better that he rape her multiple times a day, teach her to obey his every whim, humiliated and abuse her, and keep her caged and in tears, than that she go free and fuck a thousand men – some of them possibly murderous – while destroying any chance of every living a normal life again.

That night, he let Jenny sleep in his bed – albeit under the restraint of a special system he had set up.  She was nude, of course.  He put a belt around her waist, and cuffs on her wrists, and connected the wrist cuffs to the belt.  Then he shackled her ankles to the bottom of the bed, so she couldn’t go anywhere.

Finally, he put a ring gag in Jenny’s mouth, connected to a special harness he had found in the adult store.  He put a belt around his own waist – he was otherwise nude – and then forced Jenny’s face down on his cock.  Once his entire cock was in her mouth, he connected her head harness to his belt.

Now she was physically unable to move her face far enough away from his crotch for her to get his cock out of her mouth.

It was warm enough to sleep without blankets, so Jenny crouched at the bottom of the bed, his cock in her mouth, while Harrison had a very erotic sleep.  He ejaculated in her mouth before falling asleep, and then woke up two further times during the night to find himself humping Jenny’s face.  The second time, she was crying, and the feel of her warm tears against his thigh made him ejaculate immediately.

He had found this idea online, in the Bitch Kennel forums.  The user who described it said that if he used it every night, then over time the ring gag would no longer be necessary, and that Jennifer would learn to instinctively accept cock in her mouth while sleeping, and suck on it submissively without waking or biting.  Further, it would reawaken and reassert her childhood oral fixation, and she would find herself more eager to have things in her mouth during her waking hours – particularly cock.

If Harrison was going to be forced to use Jennifer as a fucktoy, then he may as well train her to be a pleasing one, he thought.

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The next morning he dragged Jenny to the shower, soaked her down, and then dried her off, before leading her back to her cage.  He made a bowl of milk and cereal for her and put it in her cage.

She looked up at him, expecting a spoon, but he just shook his head.  When she then reached for the bowl with one hand, he slapped her hand, and then slapped her face.

She needed this degradation and abuse.  It was good for her.  It was necessary.

“No hands,” he told her.  “You don’t use your hands to eat.  Understand?”

She didn’t immediately reply, so he slapped her again, and then pushed her face down into the milk.  She reluctantly began licking at it like a cat, so he left her there to enjoy it and went to check his computer.

There was a contact from a lawyer waiting for him in his inbox.  The man’s name was Pablo Ruiz, and he indicated that he was a member of the Bitch Kennel forums, and had experience in drawing up legally binding contracts to control the assets and rights of women, including pre-nuptials, powers of attorney, declarations of incapacity, and a variety of trusts, corporations and other structures that would prevent women from controlling their money, property, or life decisions in ways that courts would uphold as legally binding.  

He indicated that as long as Harrison was able to make a woman sign a document in front of a witness while looking like she was sound of mind, he wasn’t otherwise interested in the woman’s consent or reasons for signing.

Harrison was delighted with this result, and immediately signed the necessary electronic paperwork and made a preliminary payment to let Pablo start drawing up documents that would allow Jenny to transfer all her money and possessions into Harrison’s control.  He asked Pablo to make it a kind of trust that would allow Harrison to control and use the assets, but make it easy to transfer to another owner at a later time.  (So that he could give it back to Jennifer after she was cured, for example – although he didn’t say that to Pablo.)

He spent the rest of the day doing actual work – he could do much of his IT job from home – but his mind was only half-present, because he was waiting for the afternoon.

When it came to four pm, he left the house, after checking Jenny was securely locked in her cage, and went to the rented van.  He drove this to the women’s rights lobby building that the message from GoodCunt332 had indicated.  

It was a good location.  Anyone leaving the women’s rights building would have to cross in front of a small alleyway to reach either the nearest car park or the nearest bus stop.  

He parked his van in the alleyway and waited.

As 5 pm rolled around, women began emerging from the building, one by one.  Harrison watched them, but none of them matched his target.  At first.

Harrison took what was happening as proof of the power of the Stepford Pattern.  GoodCunt332 – who must be the Hayley Constance he was looking for – had been exposed to the pattern, and now she was so desperate to be raped and degraded that she had reached out to an anonymous man to help make it happen.

Did she have plans for getting free of the Pattern, as he hoped?  Or was she as helpless as Jennifer, powerless to resist the voices in her head that forced her to turn herself into a degraded rape-doll?

And then he saw her – Hayley Constance.  Thin, but buxom.  Red hair.  High heels.

He moved quickly.  There was no one else on the street.  It was the perfect opportunity.  He got out of the van, strode quickly towards Hayley, and then, before she knew he was even there, he had one hand over her mouth, and the other was holding a knife at her throat.

“Cooperate, and you won’t get cut,” he whispered in her ear, as he began dragging her back towards the van.

Her eyes went wide, and her first instinct was to struggle – but as soon as she felt the cold metal against her throat, she stopped, and allowed him to lead her towards the open rear doors of the van.  When they got there, he whispered, “You *will* survive this, if you behave.  But if you move, or if you scream, you get stabbed.”  He took the knife away from her throat – the most risky part of the enterprise – and quickly zip-tied her hands together behind her back.

“Please,” she whispered.  “Please don’t do this.”

She sounded just like Jenny, begging not to be raped, and Harrison had no doubt that she was equally insecure.  The Pattern made her want this.  The Pattern made her need this.

“Get in the van, cunt,” he growled.

With a little choking sob, Hayley climbed into the van.  Harrison got a look up her skirt at her panties as she did – pink, and cute.

Harrison followed her into the van, grabbed her tied hands, and pulled them over to a post he’d installed against the van wall.  He locked her to the post, and then forced a ball gag into her mouth and buckled it in place.

With that done, he got back out of the van and closed and locked the doors.  He needed to get away from here – there was no way that he could rape Hayley while literally still nextdoor to her workplace.

No one saw him as he got back in the van, started the engine, and began to drive.

He could hear Hayley in the back.  She was screaming and sobbing into her gag.  But she was only barely audible through the van walls and over the engine, and he was certain that nobody outside would be able to hear her unless he stopped the van completely.

He drove through the city, and out, into the adjoining rural land.  He found an old dirt road that he had identified previously on a map, and continued down it to a rest stop that probably only had visitors once every three months, if that.

Then he parked the van, stopped the engine, climbed out, and went back around to the rear.

His cock was already hard when he opened the doors.  He had gotten a mouthful of the scent of Hayley’s perfumed hair when he had grabbed her, and her body had been soft and warm against his.  And then there had been the panties.

He climbed into the van interior, and closed the doors behind him, lighting a small lantern he had installed in order to see his victim.

Hayley’s makeup was running and her face was streaked with tears.  She had clearly been straining and kicking against her bonds and the van walls, but had accomplished nothing.

“You know what’s going to happen, Hayley,” he said.  “I’m going to rape you.  You know you want this.  You know you need this.  It’s good for you.  It’s going to prevent you from being an even bigger slut than you already are.  And then afterwards we’re going to have a talk.”

She made muffled sounds into her ball gag.

Harrison knelt, and grabbed one of her ankles, and secured it to another post inside the van.  Her second ankle was attached to another one, leaving her legs spread wide.  Now she couldn’t kick at him.

He detached her wrists from the post, then freed them.  She struggled with him briefly when he did this, but he just moved forward and put a knee on her chest so she couldn’t breathe, and she quickly gave up and let him re-bind her hands above her head, attached to another post.  He took his weight off her, and she gratefully sucked in a deep breath.

“Be good, Hayley,” he said.  “Make yourself fun to rape.  It’s in your interests.”

He knelt between her legs and began to cut off her clothes.  First came her skirt.  Then her top.  He pressed her knee into her groin as he did this, and felt warmth.  Despite herself, some part of her was aroused by her treatment, and he could see the deep blush of humiliation on her face when she realised this too.

He cut away her bra – and her breasts were as magnificent as he had hoped.  He grabbed one in each hand and squeezed hard, then pulled on her nipples, and then finally slapped each of her tits five times, just for fun, enjoying the piggish squeals of pain that she made into her gag.  

Now it was time to cut away those perfect pink panties.  Beneath was a perfectly shaved pouty little cunt.  He spread her pussy lips and was delighted by the size and eagerness of her clitoris.  He took it between two fingers and pinched hard, and he loved the way her body writhed with pain, but he also loved how his fingers came away slick with arousal.

Now he undressed himself, and knelt back on top of her, and slowly he eased his cock forward and into her cunt.

She began to weep as she felt him penetrating her, but her pussy was lubricated and it gripped his cock pleasantly.  

He put one hand on her neck – not choking her, but certainly making her feel dominated – and with the other he squeezed and slapped her tits as he fucked her.  She looked pretty as she cried, and it made him harder.

“You know you need this, you dumb bitch,” he told her.  “You know it’s the only thing that can save you.”

He slapped her face for fun, and then spat on her for good measure.  It was essential that she feel confident that he would continue to abuse and disrespect her, if he wanted her to open up to him about her intentions regarding the Pattern.

And soon he felt himself nearing orgasm.  He didn’t know whether Hayley might also cum, if given the chance.  Frankly, he didn’t care.  Her orgasm wasn’t important, and denying it to her would only give her further assurance that he could be relied on to treat her like shit.  He let himself cum, ejaculating hard into her wet cunt, and then collapsed on top of her, spent.

In that post-coital haze, something tickled his mind.  Something that he had seen – or hadn’t seen.  Something he should have expected to see.

He wracked his brain for the answer.  What was he missing?  What did he even know about this woman?  That her name was Hayley Constance.  That she worked for a women’s rights organisation.  That her online handle was GoodCunt332, and her profile picture was…

He froze.  GoodCunt332’s profile picture had been an image of her pussy – and tattooed above it were the words “Please Rape Me”.

He lifted himself up and looked at Hayley’s pussy.

There was no tattoo.

His eyes widened.  He got to his knees and frantically unbuckled Hayley’s ball gag, pulling it from her mouth.

“Tell me about the Pattern,” he said.

“Please,” wept Hayley.  “Please let me go.”

“Tell me about the Pattern!” Harrison insisted.

She looked at him – and there was genuine confusion on her face.  “What Pattern?”

“The Stepford Pattern.  The process you went through – the thing you stared at on your computer screen…”

But already the truth was becoming clear to him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” wailed Hayley.  “Please, mister, let me go.  I won’t tell anyone. I promise.  I’ve never seen any Pattern.  Just let me go home…”

It was true.

This woman had never been exposed to the Stepford Pattern.

She wasn’t GoodCunt332.

And Harrison had just abducted and raped an unwilling woman.

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