Bella's Slut Walk

[skuttrusk]

Teaser:"Ooh, stop! No! Mr. Smethurst! I suppose I should feel flattered, but - ooh! NO, Mr. Smethurst. Not there!"

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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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[bTitle: ]Bella's Slut Walk[/b]
Author: Skuttrusk
Content Warnings: violence, misogyny, inappropriate humour
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The brief fashion for "slut walks" inspired this story, I might return to the idea of anti-rape protests as it seems a good scenario for ironic rapey fun. If I do treat the subject again, it'll be to have an anti-rape protester subjected to the very abuse she's campaigning against. Here, the feminists act as unwitting villains, do to an absurd misunderstanding.

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BELLA'S SLUT WALKSr


"Ooh, stop! No! Mr. Smethurst! I suppose I should feel flattered, but - ooh! NO, Mr. Smethurst. Not there!"

Bella's first day as secretary to Mr. Smethurst had not gone well. First there had been the straying hands, the gentle pats and strokes on shoulder and knee. Then, emboldened, the older man had taken to brushing imaginary dust from the slope of Bella's ample bosom. All this she had tolerated without protest, just a modest blush.

But things had progressed. Mr. Smethurst had complimented Bella on her appearance. At first, this had seemed perfectly appropriate, since being decently turned out was part of being professional. Bella accepted praise for her blouse and skirt ensemble, even though Smethurst remarked upon their flattering tightness. Then he went on to specify his approval of how the garments showed off Bella's rounded, generous bottom and voluptuous breasts. When she protested, he became slightly irate.

"What's the matter with you, can't you take a compliment? I tell you, it's political correctness gone mad these days. Tell a girl she looks nice and the next thing you know you're in front of a tribunal. Tell her that skirt makes you want to strip her naked and spank her bottom, and somehow you're crossing a line. Why, Bella, all I'm saying is that you look fuckable, you look like the sort of slut it would be fun to bend over this desk and shag up the bumhole. You can't object to that, surely?"

Bella did, but perhaps she wasn't assertive enough, because next things she knew Mr. Smethurst was attempting to demonstrate that even though her skirt was attractive, a shorter one might be even more appealing - this involved pulling her skirt up to the base of her buttocks. And loosening a few buttons wouldn't hurt, he suggested, ripping her blouse open to the waistline so that her ripe, heavy breasts in their translucent lacy bra were rudely exposed.

Then his hands were simply all over her, groping, squeezing, pinching. He wrestled her to the floor and her blouse off in no time. One hand slipped inside her bra, rolling a pink nipple between finger and thumb, feeling it stiffen involuntarily, while his other hand slid down the front of her panties, squeezing her pussy lips until the fingertips felt telltale moisture between them.

Poor Bella was aghast! Kind of slut was she, to lubricate so wantonly at the rough touch of a vulgar man? She couldn't very well blame Mr. Smethurst for wanting to rape her now, could she? But she could resist!

It was the skirt that saved her: as he loosened it, she wriggled free. She ran to the door, but the swine had locked it. But he hadn't counted on the window being open and the office being ground floor. Bella was outside before could finish the world "Ungrateful bi-"

Now, of course, Bella had another problem. She was outside in her underwear. She didn't fancy going back to work right away, but on the other hand, her underwear was rather revealing, almost translucent in its white laciness. Her dark pubic strip could be discerned through the front, and the cleft of her buttocks through the back, while both the jutting shape and dark pinkness of her nipples was clearly visible through the flimsy bra...

Bella adjusted her panties where Mr. Smethurst had fingered her, conscious that the elastic was scandalously awry, and then the man himself startled her by sticking his head out the window and yelling, "Get back in here, you saucy slut! If you're shameless enough to flaunt yourself in the street you should think nothing of bending over my desk while I tan your backside and fuck your dripping snatch until it's sore!"

Bella gasped in shock and hurried off around the corner, feeling very self-conscious as passers-by stared blatantly at this underclad girl on a December morning.

Brrrr! There WAS a breeze, wasn't there? Her nipples were not about to make themselves any less intrusive any time soon!

"Nice costume!" cried a voice, and Bella was about to blush, but realized in surprise it was a woman's voice. Coming around the next corner was a woman in lingerie, and another, and another. They carried banners. SLUT WALK said one, and RECLAIM THE DAY said another. A small army of women in suspenders and stalkings, bras and panties, feather boas and stiletto shoes. Many had slogans written not only on placards but on their bodies: SLUT, PROUD SLUT and NO MEANS NO were just a few of the lipsticked statements.

The woman who had spoken, a pert black girl,  embraced Bella, pressing her tits against Bella's equally firm, but bouncier jugs. "Glad you could join us! We're really going to make a difference!"

"Yes!" beamed a blonde, "We'll prove to men that it's NOT okay to rape us, no matter how we dress!" Bella smiled back, but wondered if these girls were not taking the idea a bit far. She couldn't imagine either one of them lasting five minutes with Mr. Smethurst. Okay or not, they would definitely be getting a good raping, and who could blame him? Parading about in their scanties? Bella was a well brought-up girl and considered such behaviour "asking for it."

"I think you just need to make a few adjustments to really put the message across," said the black girl, producing a lipstick. "This will show up much better on your skin than it does on mine." Bella felt the makeup jot across her forehead and had a pretty strong suspicion that the four letter word spelled there was SLUT.

"Now, we can't leave those lovely tits undecorated," said the girl, and applied another motto across the curves of Bella's bosom: IT'S NOT OK TO RAPE ME. The blonde produced a marker pen and disappeared behind Bella. "Yeep!" squealed Bella, as the pen dashed over her lower back. She couldn't tell what was being written, but she heard the girls giggle.

"Yes, that makes a strong statement. Whatever a girl's sexuality, she has autonomy and agency and choice!" proclaimed the blonde. "Now, I think you just need a little change to your bra..."

Bella squealed when she saw the garden shears heading for her nipples, but all the girls did, as she struggled politely, was pull out the fabric of her bra away from her skin and make two little snips. Instant peek-a-boo! Bella's hard nipples poked through the little circular holes in her brand new, expensive first-day-at-work bra.

"Uh, thank you," managed Bella.

"Maybe we should do your crotch, too?" said the black girl.

"Yeah, its not like those filmy things hide much of your pussy anyway," giggled blondie.

"Noooo!" cried Bella, holding her hands protectively in front of her crotch and running off.

"Wait, come back!" cried the girls, as Bella disappeared down the nearest alleyway. "Don't go that way, it's a really bad area!"

Bella hurried on through the cold, trying to stick to the alleyways so she wouldn't be seen. She couldn't get all the way home without using a few busy streets, but she could get close, she figured.

A hand squeezed her bum! A horrible, rough, dirty hand. Bella squealed and turned, catching a noxious whiff of bad breath. Then she ran. She had had an unpleasant run-in with a couple of homeless men before, when she was in a similar state of undress (what an exciting life she led!)

Rounding a corner, she saw a cop. Oh no! It might be hard to explain why she was dressed like this, especially with her nipples poking through the holes in her bra.

On the one hand, he might take pity on her and protect her from bad people like the tramp and Mr. Smethurst. On the other hand, he might be a bad person himself, or he just might not believe her and charge her with indecent exposure.

Bella saw the back door of a bar and darted in. She found herself in a dingy corridor. There were men's and women's toilets. She had the idea of wrapping herself in toilet paper. She would look ridiculous, but at least she would be covered. Maybe slightly warmer, too. But the ladies' toilet door refused to open. She listened at the door of the gents. All quiet. Cautiously, she went in.

The mens toilets were indescribably filthy. This obviously wasn't a kigh-class establishment. But there was one roll of TP so she pulled off a strip and was just about to start binding her breasts with it, when the door opened with a loud squeal. Bella made a loud squeal too, when a hand grabbed her earlobe and squeezed, HARD.

"Well well well well... what have we here?"

Moments later, Bella was standing in the dimly lit bar, the burly man's hand still grabbing her earlobe, tugging upwards so she had to dance on tiptoe, her breasts jiggling. At the bar sat an assortment of low-lifes, five of them, and the bartender was himself not a particularly salubrious looking character, more like a biker than a barkeep.

"SLUT," said the barkeep, reading off Bella's forehead. He grinned. "Sounds about right."

"And what's this say?" asked a grizzled old guy, approaching Bella and sweeping her long dark hair away from her chest. "IT'S OK TO RAPE ME. Well that's good to know." General laughter.

"No," said Bella hastily, "That's not what it says -" But then she looked, and realized she'd rubbed off some the lipstick when she was attempting to mummify herself in toilet paper. The crucial word NOT had been smeared away.

"And round the back," said the guy holding Bella's ear, making her dance in a circle to present her ass to her public. "ANAL WHORE."

Bella blushed. She had no idea those girls had written anything quite so scandalous. And in Magic Marker! It would take ages to wash off!

"We have a way of dealing with whores around here," said the bartender. "We use 'em for free. Use 'em pretty hard, too. They don't come back. Only the dumbest come here at all. Seeing as you're an anal whore, I guess it makes it pretty easy to guess what we're going to do to you, huh, whore?"

"No, wait, this isn't what you think. There was this feminist march -"

"A feminist?" The guy holding her ear spat in her face. "We have a way of dealing with those, too. We smack their little asses."

The guys at the bar stood in unison and took their belts off.

"No, not that! Leather belts! It'll hurt too much!" begged Bella.

"Oh, we ain't using the leather. What you think we are, monsters? We're using the BUCKLES, bitch." The men laughed, and Bella's eyes widened at the sight of the heavy metal belt buckles.

"So, twelve strokes each for being a feminist. And a hard anal fucking from all seven of us for being a whore. That seems fair to me," said the man holding Bella's earlobe, and he marched her over to an ancient, broken-down pinball machine and forced her to bend over it.

The cop found Bella in the alleyway afterwards. She was staggering along, propping herself up on the filthy wall. Her panties were long gone, and her breasts had been tugged through the nipple-holes in her bra, stretching the material until it formed a snug framework gripping her naked tits and making them thrust out attractively. Cum was leaking from Bella's crimson ass, and cum smeared her tear-stained face. The boys had spared her pussy any fucking because, as they put it, they didn't want the slut enjoying herself. But they had used her to flavour their beer, shoving the ice-cold necks of the bottle into her cunt to give the drink an extra savour, as one might with a slice of lime.

Bella's ass was glowing red from the vicious thrashing it had received. 84 strikes, though some of these had been spread over her thighs, her tits and her pussy.
Obviously a whore, thought the cop. He handcuffed her and marched her to his squad car. Noticing that her pussy had not been raped, he made that right.

Mr. Smethurst answered the phone. "What's that? Picked up for whoring? Says she's my secretary? Sounds about right. No, i can't possibly collect her today. Can you keep her overnight? Cells full? Well, perhaps there's a male cell she could stay in. No, I don't mind about that, they can do what they like to her. YOU can do what you like to her, for that matter. I'll come for her tomorrow. Or what's left of her, heh heh. I expect she'll be a lot more cooperative in future."

THE END

Feedback is always welcome, I especially enjoy hearing about your favourite bits, or any suggestions for making the victims suffer more.