I successfully passed the state exam and perfectly defended my final work, and now all that remains for me is to enjoy the first vacation in four years in June and wait for the long-awaited diploma to be printed and finally issued. Oh yes, I also had to go through the offices, call in the main building and collect marks on the bypass sheet.
Actually, this is what I was doing, looking at my watch and confidently walking along the university corridor - it was almost an hour, I had the last resort in the list, which means that there was still enough time to call my girlfriend and go shopping in search of new things for the summer, and just unwind after the hard months of writing a diploma and preparing for the final exam line.
I knocked with my knuckles on the door with the sign I needed and, without waiting for an answer, which, of course, would not have followed, I entered the room. The office turned out to be small in size, with only two windows, and only one employee sat in it - more precisely, there were two jobs, but the second one was free.
“Hello, I’m listening to you,” the man greeted. He was no more than thirty years old, and a slight smile adorned even more his already pleasant features.
- Good afternoon. I would like to sign the bypass sheet.
I went up to the table and handed the man a piece of paper, where all the columns except one were filled with dates and signatures and were chenilled with seals of various shapes and sizes. He stretched out his hands, took the sheet from me and, turning it towards him, began to read.
- What is your first and last name? he said, rising to his feet.
— Elena Sergeevna.
“Well, let's see,” he drawled, opening one of the cabinets lined up along the wall, and began sorting through the arranged folders. - S, s, s ... oh, Soldatova! Elena Sergeevna.
The man closed the cabinet doors, opened the folder and, without returning to his desk, began leafing through the documents folded in it. He leafed through some papers at once, as if not looking at them at all, but he read into some, especially focusing his attention. I patiently waited near the table, not sitting down on a nearby chair and still hoping that he would just quickly put his signature on my bypass sheet, and I would leave, saying goodbye, putting my plans into practice.
- And why not a copy of the changed passport? he suddenly asked, and I just shrugged. - You didn't bring it?
- Not. Nobody said what was needed. I have my passport with me, you can make a copy if necessary.
- Let's.
I put my bag on the edge of the table and, unzipping it, began to look for my passport. I had only to take the document outside when the man was behind me. I didn’t even notice when he managed to move, and he was already wrapping his arm around my waist and pressing almost his entire body.
- What are you doing? Let go!
We'll make a copy, of course. But you changed your passport two years ago, and then you had to take care of the correctness of your documents at the university.
“I told you that I didn’t know that you also need to carry a copy to your unit,” I tried to extricate myself from unexpected and completely unpleasant hugs, but he held too tightly, and I answered my attempt to push him with my elbow by twisting behind my back my hands.
- And not knowing the law, as lawyers say, does not exempt from responsibility. Fines have run up, - lowering his voice almost to a whisper, the man said. He leaned over to my ear and I could feel his hot breath burning my skin.
- Let go! I exclaimed again, trying to throw off his hands and extricate myself. Surprisingly, I succeeded, but only half a glance at his satisfied smile was enough to understand that he just had such an idea.
In the blink of an eye he was at the door, took the key out of his pocket and, turning it in the keyhole, hid it again. Then he went back to the table, which during this time I managed to go around in an arc.
Nothing better came to my mind than trying to fight him off with his own folders and documents. I started throwing everything I could find on his desk at the owner of the cabinet. At some point, I grabbed the keyboard, but didn’t have time to send it flying - the man noticed the object in my hands, pulled the wire coming from the keyboard, and out of surprise, I followed her, bumping into the table.
In a couple of seconds, he did several actions at once - he pressed me to the tabletop, ended up on the same side of the table with me and, finally, twisted my hands behind my back, holding them tightly with his palms. I tried again to escape, but my attempts were in vain.
- If you rock the boat, - he said, bending over me, - it will be worse. Understood me? I remained silent, continuing to twitch. Then he slightly lifted me, and after a moment he again pressed me to the tabletop. “I won’t warn you a hundred times.
He grabbed my hands with one palm, opened the drawer of his desk and, continuing to press me against the table, began to look for something in it. And I soon realized what he was looking for. There was a distinctive sound, and the tape began to wrap around my hands, sticking them together.
- Let go! What are you doing?! Help! Anyone! I began to scream, crawling on the table. - Please help...
His hand did not allow me to finish, laying on top of my mouth.
- I did warn you. I didn't mean to be rude," the man said. He took a couple of sheets from the nearest stack and, holding my mouth with one hand, with the other he crumpled these sheets into a paper snowball. The hand moved away from my face, but before I could utter a word, he began to stuff the crumpled sheets right into my mouth, and when he succeeded, to be sure, he also stuck a strip of tape over my lips. You will still pay the fine. More precisely, you will work. You will pay me a fine, which I myself came up with. Just a couple of minutes ago, when a beautiful girl in a short skirt — as if demonstrating his words, he ran his palms over my thighs — did not have a simple copy of the passport in her personal file.
A nasty viscous lump came up to my throat, and just at that moment the man lifted me up. He pressed me against his body, holding my waist with one hand. The second one he ran down my neck, went down to my chest, and then slid even lower. He pulled up the hem of my skirt, ran his hand along my bare thigh and, pushing the edge of my panties, put his hand on top of my pussy.
I cringed, knowing for a long time what he wants, but still hoping that this would not happen, that he would come to his senses, that common sense would still defeat male desire, and that I would not be raped at my native university.
But the miracle did not happen, neither the fairy godmother nor any of the famous superheroes came to the rescue, no one at all. The employee of the department pulled up the skirt even higher, rolled it up around my waist with an uneven roller, and again pressed me against his desk with his chest. Right on top of scattered papers and a couple of folders, a few pens and some other little things that I felt with my body.
“Legs, spread your legs,” he tapped my ankles with his foot, forcing me to spread my legs. - Wow, smart one. You see, it is not difficult to do what is asked of you. Now we will remove the unnecessary rag, and in general it will be wonderful.
He picked up the scissors, pulled back the bottom of my panties and cut through the fabric in one fell swoop. He patted me on the pussy open to his gaze, and after a couple of moments he began to drive his palm between the labia.
I wanted to shrink all over, turn into a small shapeless ball that no one needs and is not interested in. But in fact, I couldn’t even squeeze my legs, blocking the man’s access to the most intimate. He carefully inserted his finger into my hole and, after waiting only a second, no more, began to either immerse it completely, or practically pull it out.
A few tears fell from my eyelashes, but he didn't see it. And nothing would have changed if he had known about my tears, he certainly would not have stopped, but would only rejoice once again at his success.
“Good girl,” the man said and, removing his finger, stepped aside.
Continuing to stand reclining on the table, I saw out of the corner of my eye how he found a pack of condoms in his backpack, took out one of the records and, lowering his jeans along with his underpants, rolled the elastic band along the length of his penis.
I closed my eyes, not wanting to see his further actions anymore and not even one iota believing that events could somehow change.
I heard the man return to the table. He squeezed my hips with his hands, moving a little to make him more comfortable, and spread my legs even wider. And continuing to stand with my eyes closed, I again felt the touch of his hands. Lubricated with cool lubricant finger easily plunged into my hole.
He caressed my hole for a short time. After, probably, a minute, he pulled his finger out of me, patted the clitoris a little and, slightly parting the labia to the side, leaned on me with his body. I instinctively cringed and tried to bring my legs together, but again nothing happened. The man loudly hit my buttock with his palm and, directing his penis with his hand, smoothly entered me.
After waiting just a couple of seconds, he began to push his cock deeper into my womb. He did not stop making forward movements with his hips, and soon I felt how his testicles were already touching my crotch. With each push, they heavily hit my body, and each contact, like a tocsin, was reflected in my head.
Tears flowed down my cheeks, rolling down right onto some papers on my rapist's desk, and I mentally counted each push inside myself. One, two, three... ten, eleven... twenty-five... I lost count, and he, without opening his hands on my waist, continued to drive his cock into me.
His movements became sharper every minute, the rapist increased the pace, not paying any attention to my tears and attempts to escape, which I stopped very soon. They were of no use, I only gave him an additional portion of pleasure, showing my weakness and helplessness.
“Whine, whine,” he said to me, leaning over my ear and continuing to stretch my passage. “I love the way you cry as you take my cock inside you. I like that you whine like a dog when I rape your narrow hole.
He used my hole, and my body treacherously began to reciprocate his movements. I felt the lubrication inside of me wrap its threads around his penis, and the muscles at the entrance more and more willingly let him inside.
“What a sweet hole, what a supple… you like it,” he lifted me off the table, clasping my breasts with his hands and squeezing them with his palms, pulling me even tighter onto his dick. “There was no need to resist, girl. Now your hands would be free, and groans would break from your lips. Do you want to moan, baby?
His penis filled me completely, from the inside pressing on the walls of the vagina and as if trying to make it even wider. The hands of the rapist squeezed my chest with force, leaving marks on the delicate skin. I wanted to throw them away, away from my body, but the hands wrapped behind my back only let me dream about it.
He pressed me to the table, leaning his whole body, walked with his hands all over my body and fucked-fucked-fucked my girl, who for two years after parting with Tolik was bored without sex. The jolts became even stronger, even rougher. The rapist seemed to be trying to get into the very depths of me, having studied everything without a trace.
I dug my teeth into the crumpled sheets of paper stuffed into my mouth, and with each push I hit harder and harder on the edge of the table. But he didn’t even notice it, continuing to drive into my crotch with force. The entrance to the vagina ached from the unusual load, and it seemed to me that the rapist was about to tear my hole, but even without paying attention to it, he would continue to enter me for the entire length of his penis.
“Yes,” he growled, his breath burning my skin. - Yeah baby. Take daddy in full.
He made a few more pushes, then plunging completely, and then almost removing the head from my vagina. And then he abruptly entered me for the entire length of his penis, pressed his whole body and froze. The enlarged penis, tightly wrapped around the walls of my hole, came to life on its own, and a hot stream erupted into my bosom.
“You see how good everything is,” the man said, pulling his reproductive organ out of me and stepping aside. And it’s not at all scary to pay a fine that has run up. And you were afraid.
My eyes were wet with tears. Without getting to my feet, but continuing to lie on the table of my rapist, I noticed how he tied a used condom in a knot and quietly threw it into the trash can near the door. He pulled his shorts and pants back into place and returned to the table.
I closed my eyes, brushing the tears from my eyelashes again. The man put his hot palms on my thighs, made several circular movements, and his hand again slipped to my crotch.
“Don’t strain like that, baby,” the rapist said, inserting several fingers into me. He made several forward movements and left, apparently not intending to continue. - I won't do it again. Now I'll make a photocopy, fill out the bypass sheet, and you can go.
A photocopier was buzzing next to me, and I was raised to my feet. The man armed himself with scissors and, having made several cuts, removed the adhesive tape from my hands. Adhesive tapes painfully torn off my hands, as if tearing off all the skin along with them, and hailstones of tears rolled from my eyes with renewed vigor.
“Well, well, don’t cry. Very soon it will no longer hurt, - he said, removing the last tapes. “I told you that there was no need to resist, then I wouldn’t have to do this. OK it's all over Now.
He tore off a strip of tape from my lips, and I immediately covered my face with my hands, continuing to cry and not immediately realizing to pull the paper out of my mouth. He turned me around to face him, seated me on the edge of the table and, not reacting to my tears, returned to the copier.
The owner of the office put the photocopy into the folder with my personal file, which he took out of the closet at the beginning of our meeting, put it aside and, placing my passport on the edge of the table, opened the top drawer of his desk.
“Now we’ll put the seal and that’s it,” he said, and really took the seal out.
I wiped away my tears, continuing to sit on the table, on which just a couple of minutes ago I was put with cancer and raped, and tried to calm down and pull myself together. There was no question of any trips to the store and meeting with a friend. The only thing I wanted was to quickly get to the house and climb into the shower. Just like that, in clothes, in order to quickly wash off everything that happened.
The owner of the office opened the seal, but instead of putting a mark on my bypass sheet, which continues to lie on a pile of papers on the corner of the table, he came close to me. I didn't understand what he was up to - and I didn't even realize right away that he again approached me inexorably close. I looked up at him, my eyes filled with silent questions and tears.
“You need to make a note that the Soldatov graduate no longer has any debts,” the man explained.
He leaned over a little, pressing his shoulder against me. I tensed inwardly, not knowing what to expect, but he only took a black marker lurking between the scattered papers. The man squeezed my thigh with his palm and immediately lifted it up, raising it above the tabletop and opening my crotch to his gaze. He ran his hand over my pussy, forcing me to overshadow the attention, but did not penetrate inside anymore. He clenched his teeth on the marker, ripping off the lid and holding it up to my clean-shaven crotch, leaving his sweeping signature on the skin.
- What are you doing? I whispered in a trembling voice.
- I say after all: I put a mark that you paid a fine and owe nothing more, - the man immediately responded. He shifted the seal to his right hand and, leaning it next to the signature he had just left, put a new mark on my body. - OK it's all over Now.
He hurriedly filled in the empty column in my bypass sheet, stamped it and thrust all my documents and things into my hands. I barely had time to pull my skirt, as the man put me out the door, immediately turning the key in the door lock.