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hottest bestiality story ever?

dog Rapes Woman

Archive name: not.txt (F/beast, rp, v)
Authors name: Kellie C. ([email protected])
Story title : Not a Woman's Best Friend
--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------
Not a Woman's Best Friend (F/beast, rp, v)
by Kellie C. ([email protected])
***






You know all those stupid Internet stories floating around about how women like having sex with a dog and they have great orgasms and end up not only fucking them but sucking their dicks? What absolute bullshit! This is a more realistic story.
***


My name is Christine and I was raped by a dog. I was thirty-two years old at the time (I'm thirty-five now) and living twelve miles east of Seattle,
Washington. The only reason that I'm telling you this is because of all the stupid Internet stories floating around about how women are won over by having sex with a dog and have great orgasms and end up not only fucking them but sucking their dicks. That is such bullshit.It was a Saturday morning and I was cutting my lawn. The house I was renting had an attached garage and a medium-sized yard. It wasn't the greatest house in the world--or
even in Seattle--but it was clean and well maintained and it fit my budget. I was mowing along the front sidewalk, made a turn back toward the house when the sound of a car's tires screeching on the pavement behind me made me jump. I turned around quickly, half expecting to see someone flying through the air, but it wasn't a person at all, but a dog.



He had come out of the woods across the street and tried to cross the road; now he stood just inside the verge of the woods again, looking back over his shoulder. His ears were laid back on his head and his tail tucked smartly
between his legs. The driver laid on his horn, yelled at the dog fiercely, and then sped away. As the car drove out of sight, the dog cautiously reemerged from the woods and sat down on his haunches. He was a black Labrador Retriever, a big one, and he watched me with a dog's typical aplomb, ears pricked up and head canted to one side as though wondering what I was doing over here. I had never seen him before and guessed he was
lost. I called to him and it was obvious that he heard me, but for some reason he ignored my call and I thought, Well fuck you too, doggie, and went back to cutting the lawn.



After finishing up, I went into the house and made myself a roast beef sandwich with a cold glass of milk and watched the noon-time news. Just as the news was going off, I heard a dog whining outside my screen door and I
went to have a look. Of course it was the black Lab."Hello," I greeted him. "You decided to be social now?"He was bigger than I had originally thought, at least 120 pounds, and although he didn't have a collar on, from his appearance it was obvious he belonged to someone. He was lost all right. His owner was probably looking for him now or would be soon enough. In the meantime, he looked pretty thirsty and I went to the kitchen and got him a bowl of water. When I set it near him on the porch, he backed away and wouldn't touch it until I went back inside and closed the screen door. "You are the weirdest dog I've ever seen," I said. This from Christine the expert, who'd never had a dog in her life.



I leaned against the jamb and watched him lap the water. He was watching me back. I tried talking to him in a soothing tone of voice, but he remained just as wary as ever. When I pushed open the door, intending to join him on the porch, he backed away and headed down the steps, took off at a run across the lawn. Just as he neared the curb, however, another car came around the bend going way too fast--as usual--and for a moment I thought the dog
would panic. But the driver laid on his horn and doing a one-eighty, the Lab bolted back towards my house, darted in behind the row of hedges beneath the front window and let out a frustrated woof! He just stood there panting.
If I don't do something soon, I thought, this dog is going to get killed. Not really sure what I was doing, I picked up the empty bowl, refilled it at the kitchen sink, then walked through the garage to the side door, opened it and set the bowl in the doorway. Then I walked a short distance away. "This isn't going to work," I grumbled to myself. "He wouldn't even let you near him."
A few minutes went by and the dog ventured far enough out from behind the bushes to sniff the air and observe me with his impenetrable black eyes. I couldn't help it, it made me shiver. I backed up a step and thought, Maybe
this is not such a hot idea, Chris. Maybe you should just go back inside, lock the kitchen door and call the damn pound.



But before I could reject this idea as plain old school-girlish silly, I heard the phone ringing and went back inside to answer it. It was Jean Michaels, a friend from New York with whom I hadn't talked in a long time. As I chatted with her gaily for the next half an hour, I watched through the open kitchen door. The dog never came in.
-- -- --



I shut the garage door and locked it. It was quarter to two and although I'd looked for the Lab all around the house and inside the garage, he was nowhere to be found. He'd done whatever it is lost doggies do, I guess...
gotten lost even more.Disgusted with the way I felt, I took a shower, toweled
dry, and put on a bathrobe. I was drying my hair when I thought I heard a noise from the garage. Not barking, but like someone thudding against the closed kitchen door. Armed with the blow dryer, I went downstairs and tip-toed cautiously through the living room and out into the kitchen. I could here him whining just outside the door. "Well, shit," I said aloud, at the sound of which he began to whine even louder and started a scattershot scratching at the door with his claws."Hold on, hold on," I said, wondering how he'd gotten in. I know the garage had been empty when I'd gone in to take my shower... at least I thought it had. He must have been hiding. Yeah, I thought, he must have been hiding.Opening the kitchen door just a crack, I watched him back
away to the far side of the garage and drop to his haunches. The water bowl sat empty beside his left paw. I had forgotten about it left it just inside the door. "Weirdo dog," I said.



Stepping into the garage, I closed the kitchen door behind me and predictably he got up and moved cautiously away to his tight. "You don't trust anybody, do you boy? Or is it just me?" He sat down again and watched me with
those polished black eyes. And then he growled.If I had been nervous before, now I was scared. You never showed fear to a dog--that's what I'd always heard--and it was obvious to me why. They can smell it on you. I clutched the bathrobe closed at my throat and took a wary step backwards, and as soon as I did this he rose and stalked two paces forward, teeth bared."Nice doggy," I squeaked. "Grrrrrrrrrr," rumbled out of his throat, low, deep and menacing. He took another pace forward, dropping lower to the ground and showing all his teeth. If I made a run for the kitchen door I knew he'd be all over me before I got three feet. "What's going on boy?" I said in a small, quavering voice. "You gonna hurt me? I tried to help you, you know." I was standing with my back against the side of the garage before I knew I had been moving. He approached me from my right, herding me away from the kitchen door,
toward the corner in the rear. I was terrified now. I was beginning to panic.
"Nice doggy," I squeaked again. "Nice puppy dog, doggie." Only this dog was anything but a puppy. He was a demon in black fur.



Refusing to be cornered like the desperate animal I knew I was becoming, I angled away and moved toward the center of the floor. The dog didn't like it much, but he let me do it. I began to think--pray--that he'd let me go all the way to the outside door and go through it. Just as it appeared he'd actually let me go, in a terrifying blur of motion, he leaped at me through the air. I shrieked and put my arms up but the force of his lunge knocked me to the floor. I banged down on my back striking my head on the concrete and hot sparks erupted like a 4th of July fountain across my eyes. My vision doubled and became alarmingly blurred. When it cleared again--too late--I found he had straddled me, fangs bared just inches above my throat. I was going to die.
But the dog had other ideas."What do you want," I pleaded in a tiny, terrified voice. My bathrobe was open, leaving me fully exposed. His hot wet prick dragged back and forth across my uncovered stomach, making me shudder and want to scream. At first I didn't even know what it was. When I finally did, in that same tiny, terrified voice--terrified now for an entirely
different reason--I protested, "No way!" and tried to scuttle away. He took my throat in his teeth."Okay, okay," I breathed with my eyes clamped shut.
"Whatever you want." I relaxed myself with a titanic effort and spread my legs. Again, the dog had other ideas. He released my throat and growled."What?" I was honestly baffled. He growled again. He made circular motions with his
head... I swear, he actually did this... and I slowly got the message. "On my knees?" I quavered in disbelief.The dog, who was not a dog at all, but the aforementioned demon from hell, nodded his head.



"You want to mount me?" A breathless whisper. He nodded again. I rolled onto my stomach and started to get up. Before I could get all the way up onto my hands and knees he batted my on my rump with his snout."What?" I was beginning to think I was already dead. Or in some nightmare dream caused by the concussion to the back of my head. It really ached. He growled and shook his head sharply to the right. Away from my body. And suddenly Iunderstood. "This is not real," I whispered. "It can't be real. It can't be. It just isn't happening." He wanted me to disrobe.Rising erect from my knees, I slid the robe back over my shoulders and let it fall into my hands. I began to bring
it around when he snatched it roughly away from me and flung it across the floor. It landed near the garage door with the arms in an out-flung, helpless gesture. That's how I felt--totally helpless. I was naked with a dog.He batted me again with his snout."What?" I objected, beginning to loose my cool. The
crippling shock and disbelief had begun to wear off and I was becoming rebellious. Damned if I was being corralled by a dog.



Suddenly he was up on his rear haunches, one talon-clawed paw on either of my shoulders and the back of my neck clamped firmly between his teeth. His breath flowing around my neck was horrid. "Okay, okay," I acquiesced. "I get the point." Then, as the powerful muscles in his jaw began to clamp shut on my neck, "Please! Anything you want!" It was a short-lived rebellion. He dropped back to all fours and so did I. He sniffed me up and down my flank and licked my right cheek. I took it. He snuffled into my right ear and bit lightly at the
lobe and I took that too. All the while I smelled his graveyard breath. What the hell was he doing? For a moment neither of us moved. He stood there panting, beside my right shoulder, facing me, and suddenly I understood. This was some kind of dominance thing, what I had occasionally seen one dog--presumably the alpha male--do to another. He was doing it to me. I got it, I
thought. Loud and clear. You're the alpha. I'm the bitch.Satisfied (he read my thoughts in my body language, there's no other explanation) he grunted lightly one time, then went to stand behind me. I stared straight ahead panting. He had really hurt my neck. Good luck, Christine, I thought. A dog is about to fuck you.



He sniffed at my pussy (I hate the word with everything I am, but I just can't think of a better one to use), then snuffled it like he had done to my ear. I tried not to jump but the shock was just too great. I gave a little shriek and sidled forward. He growled. "Fuck you!" I said vehemently under my breath. "I don't
like it, okay!"He obviously did, because a moment later his tongue went
from halfway to my navel all the way up the crack of my ass to the small of my back. This time I really did shriek and I surged forward in alarm. I also looked back over my shoulder in horror as ever nerve ending in my body jangled. It was like getting scrubbed by a warm, wet length of Scotchbrite.I didn't move. I didn't breath. I felt sick at my stomach. I wanted to puke. He licked my pussy again and I made a disgusting noise, something a real bitch might make. Tears leaked from my eyes and splattered onto the concrete below, sucked up almost immediately by the dust and porous surface. It wouldn't stay that way for long, not if I started bawling. When I started bawling. He lapped at me for a full minute, then two, getting me slathered up and absolutely raw. I felt every little sandpaper bead on his tongue and because I routinely shave to keep myself clean--I had done so only that morning--there was not even my wispy blonde pubic hair to offer any protection. My clitoris, my swollen outer lips, the mouth of my vagina, my urethra and especially my poor little anus all got the treatment. And the way he went after me with that tongue, with such unbelievable vigor--he'd driven me six feet or more across the floor--you'd think I was a sugar-coated treat. To him, I guess I was.Then he mounted me and locked his powerful forepaws around my waist and I squealed in complete and utter terror. He shoved forward with his cock, not so much searching for my pussy as dive-bombing it. I wailed again and tried to crawl away across the floor but he lunged forward over me and grabbed my neck again with his teeth. He bit down hard and growled an angry, you stay the fuck put! snarl, breaking my skin with his teeth--not deep, just enough to get his point across--and I could feel blood seeping out of the wounds. "Okay," I brayed. "I'm yours! I'm whatever you want! I'll do anything you tell me to! Just please, please don't hu--"



I sucked in an agonized breath as something hot and sticky and the size of a baseball bat entered my pussy. Then I shrieked and then I caterwauled--quietly, as those teeth still dug into my neck--and shook my entire body
trying to get him out. Instead, he worked himself even deeper."No," I sobbed. "Please no! Let me go!" Instead, I crawled forward under him six more agonizing feet until my head hit the back wall of the garage and then skidded
along its surface. I cried hot, sulfurous tears, the tears burning my eyes, my nose, the back of my throat. The thing in my pussy was hot and sulfuric too, pounding in and out of me, gouging at my vagina, assaulting me, destroying my sanity one thrust at a time. It was more pain than I could ever have imagined.
"Nuhungunaaaah," something inside me cawed. I was no more able to make coherent noise than I was of having coherent thought. I was a woman with a demon on her back... and in her vagina.



Trapped against the garage wall, I began to turn in against it. Splinters from the exposed two by fours gouged me wherever I rubbed against them. (I'd later look like a comedy skit from Saturday Night Live or Mad TV or something. The Splinter Lady, I thought.) But as the splinters attacked the side of my right hand, my right forearm, then my elbow, my upper arm and shoulder and finally my right hip and my thigh, the Lab continued walking me forward with his thrusts. I scraped against the plywood sheathing of the exterior wall,
encountering a second two by four, then a third, and finally a forth.Then I was in the corner that I had avoided so many years before--right where my doggie master wanted me--he banged me head first into the two by fours in the corner there, driving me unmercifully forward until my head had only one place to go--down and against the floor. I knelt there, jammed hard against the studs, my cheek pressed brutally against the cold concrete floor while the dog
banged and banged and banged away me.



By now I was sobbing so hard my chest felt like an exploding bomb. My entire being ached. My vagina was beyond repair and still the dog fucked me. "Please God, please don't let him do this to me," I kept saying, over
and over again. The words came out as something no human ear could ever have understood, except maybe God's... and I don't think God was listening.
Twisted with my head locked against the corner studs, I found myself watching between my legs as the dog wailed away at me. His cock was as big around as my forearm--my father's forearm--pasty white with a cobweb pattern of
vicious red veins. It was a foot long at least. It probably was longer. But terrifying as it was, what was at the end of it was ever worse. Because there, twice the thickness of the shaft and an even angrier red and white color, was a horrendous round knot. "No," I moaned plaintively as the dog continued to rut me. "I can't. I can't. No, no, no, please."But the dog told me I could and that I would and very shortly I did. I watched as the knot grew nearer to me with every thrust. Then the thing hit me with a sucking, slurping sound that made me retch with revulsion, stuck in me for a moment before he yanked himself back... and the wave of pain hit me like a Pacific tidal wave. On the fifth try he finally made it in and I was thrashing around wildly with the pain and making horrific noise and beating at his flanks with my fists. Then something hot and wet came cascading down my thighs and splattering on the concrete floor beneath our coupled organs, my guts cramped so violently that I screamed...
and then I was gone.
-- -- --



The dog was laying in the far corner of the garage, cleaning himself and ignoring me completely. On the floor beneath my crotch, where I expected a huge mass of blood, I saw something possibly even worse: a grossly-puddled mass of foamy, already crusting over semi-white fluid... his cum. I had been thoroughly rutted.I found I had bled very little. How he could have driven
such a huge and misshapen thing such as that into me without puncturing something vital or causing me to hemorrhage I don't know. Feinting when he reached climax must have provided me just enough flexibility to spare my
life. I think I sat on that floor for the better part of an hour, staring at nothing. My pussy ached and my guts were roiling inside and I felt numb like a block of wood. Never in my life had the thought ever entered my mind that a dog might actually fuck me. I had imagined it of course (I believe all women have) but imaginings are supposed to stay in the realm of imagination. Not show up in your garage. "I want to go home," I said. The words sounded so good to me, so reassuring. My home was only 15 feet away. But again, the dog had other ideas.



The second time he came for me I just let him. I got on my hands and knees, docilely let him mount me, then put my chest and my face on the cold concrete floor and held myself open for him with my hands. I didn't fight him at all. When he came out of me somewhere about halfway through, and mounted me in a different way, I shifted my hands to my buttocks and spread them far apart. It hurt his being in my ass (getting past my poor little anus was really
tough) but not as bad as I had thought. It was my first anal experience and he spared me the ordeal of his knot. The third time I lay on my back with my legs drawn tight to my chest and let him rut me like that. I think it was a new experience for him and I'm not sure he even liked it. Are you trying to breed me? I asked silently of his inhuman, polished black eyes. Am I supposed to have puppies? If so, It would be quite a litter. And then I had an orgasm. I didn't want it to happen. I fought against it with everything I had, but it was involuntary and unstoppable. He was doing me with such savage determination that I think I had no choice. He suddenly slowed down and his muscles tensed and by this time the pain from his knot had almost gone away. He prepared to unload in me and when his first shot came, hot and gushing and spilling out my cunt all up my thighs and down over my asshole, I could not stop. I came and he came and the two of us came together, him squatted over me not moving, just emptying his testicles of their unbelievable load. I clutched myself behind my knees and prayed for it all to end. His gushing, and my orgasm. Eventually, they both did. Then he was finished with me.
-- -- --



What happened to the dog? I have no idea, and I don't ever want to find out.
After the requisite fifteen minute wait, his knot finally shriveled and he pulled himself free of me with a wet popping sound and his cum--that part which hadn't already sprayed out all over me--gushed out onto my thighs and down between my buttocks. Such an awful mess. Then he hobbled to the opposite corner where he cleaned himself and ignored me from then on. He had gotten what he wanted and that was that. I cautiously got to my hands and knees and, risking another go at it, eased my way toward the kitchen door. I quietly entered the house and closed the door securely behind me, never taking my eyes off of him. He heard the door close but he never looked up. Later, once I'd cleaned myself up and then cleaned up the mess in the garage. I had my 9mm Glock with me then and just dared him to move. I would have shot him on the spot except that I'd have to explain and I would never do
that. I never saw the mutt again.I now live in Atlanta, Georgia, just about as far removed from Seattle as I can get. I live in a nice little, two-story frame house with a nice little garden out back and a semi-detached carport on the side. I also have a female Doberman Pincher named Mary that I know will never try to fuck me. I only hope some other dog does, just so I can set her loose on him.


THE END
Note: If you want to reach me I can be easily had at:
[email protected]


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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Ok, i feel i need to go about this very specifically due to basic fears and preconceptions round here.

I have a question for a specific group that lurks about here. Before i ask it, dear god. Keep it civil, no visual aids, no links, and on both sides please no primal psycho rage.

My question is simply, Why?

stay with me now. This gets a little between the lines, anti's just stay mellow, it's still illegal and zero tolerance, folks in question don't get too into... well actually i dont' get quite what but try and treat it as a clinical question if you can.

I understand that this may get a bit uh, weird. But let's try to keep the visceral language and finger pointing to a minimum.

and yes i'm ducking the direct question because i'm a pussy. Now that we've cleared the air on that let's move on.

My question has been established. Why?

My confusion comes from my own perspective and capacity for inference.

Your preferred group, biologically, are basically pre-sex. I can't tell if one is male or female save for the color scheme on their clothes.

Being as they are sexless i remain confused as to the appeal. Stay calm.

Personally i believe any person has the right to do whatever the fudge they want in a darkened room wherein nobody realizes they exist in the first place. Which isn't a jab, it's exactly what i mean.

You want to smoke meth, shoot heroin, hold pet beauty pageants or have your mailman strangle you with a designer gator skin belt while you beat off to vintage cartoon characters; go for it.

Admittedly, the only reason i won't include it on that list is i feel certain folks would focus on that and lose sight of the question i'm asking.

I will say this. So long as it's legal to masturbate yourself into a rage-gasm over murder scene and autopsy photos it may as well be legal to beat off to any pre-existing evidence of human horror. Dude didn't murder any one, he just got way too into the photos proving it happened. It creeps me out, but whatever. No one said he has to be within a square mile of anyone i want to keep from him.

If i'm going to be self appointed thought police, however, then kill me now.

I've made peace with many other lifestyles, or mental illness or mutations or doctrines or fuck you get over yourselves that many people take to the grave, but this one just makes no sense to me at all.

The God freaks of any brand are afraid of being punished or positive they will be rewarded. In either case, because of others.

Druggies are addicted, biochemically and subsequently psychologically dependant.

Gays are just gay. period.

Beasties are demented, but i can make peace purely on the sense of ignorance. If It's legal to grind animals into big macs and tasteless clothes, it's legal to fuck them.

But this thing seems basically rooted in predatory mentality. i may be wrong but that's why i ask.

even serial killers admit to being basically sexually obsessed. Stay cool.

I'm not saying you are all rapists or cannibals or predators. It does however seem that the exclusive proprietors of your content are.

At that point i get back to the crime scene photos. That's basically what your content seems to be. Evidence of a crime. I'm no johnny law. i smoke my reefer and abide selectively like any American (hold it against me if you must i make no apology for being born at random), but i can't see past the victimization.

Is it a power trip? like a rape fantasy that has fallen so low on dominance that it manifests itself in this way? Comments here on motherless for the so called "weak stuff" seem to imply that dominance, pain and victimization are tantamount to the appeal.

If so, then at that point you lose me. I'm no stranger to the potentials of human cruelty, but there seems to be an outcry from your group that this is not your motivation, meanwhile others in your community seem to state otherwise. Quite directly in fact.

I'm neither looking to be sold on it, nor dissuaded. I have my sexual identity quite intact. I myself find sexual delight in plump to simply put fat ass white women, I'm simply confused and at a loss.

Further, the only reason i feel it warrants such discussion at all is the fact that it seems such a perpetual pervasive issue not just here, but anywhere a person doesn't have to own it right up front.

oh well, fuck it. I asked the question; do with it what you will. Even if that is nothing. Our own eyes are upon us, no greater authority matters.

If you have an honest opinion of your own, feel free to share. If you're looking to go to war either for or against, Then that topic already exists.

If at this point you have no idea what i'm talking about, what are you even doing here when you could be beating off to titties or making racist comments?

Maybe i'm wasting my time. Later wankers.

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You have to see this e-mail it is EPIC!

I had this forwarded to me in an e-mail. It is pretty obvious who the author is. It has to be the MOTHERLESS sociopath, christian tough guy!
Friend of mine had one of the MOTHERLESS stalkers e-mailing him nonstop for days. I asked him how he finally got the psychotic to finally leave him alone.

He said this did the trick after the lunatic was trying to tell him everything about himself, how much weight he can lift, how much of a tough guy he is and, get this, even claims to be a so called "carpenter"! LOL (Now that is what we call taking that whole "jesus thing" a little too far wouldn't ya say? A Carpeneter? Oooooooooooooooooooo)

Here it is, it is fucking classic, ENJOY!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


"If you were a carpenter, and you met a lady.
You'd probably stalk every day, want her to have your baby.

If you were carpenter,and not such a loser.
Most likely a catholic male, and definite boozer!

If you were a carpenter and not so fucking boring,
you'd be busy at work, and used to my ignoring!

If you were really a carpenter and not another MOTHERLESS turd,
but like every other catholic shitbag, you're gonna get the last word!"

BYE BYE shitstain, bye bye!

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Found this....the link to the site : http://babble.com/babble-voices/a-focused-life-me-ra-koh/13-characteristics-of-a-date-rapist-a-list-you-need-to-share/

13 Characteristics of a Date Rapist: A List You Need to Share

I spoke around the country on the topic of sexual assault after publishing my first book, Beauty Restored: Finding Life and Hope After Date Rape. Whenever I would read this list, the room would go silent. And I heard the cry of my own heart as college student after college student, teen after teen, said “If only I had heard this list before I was raped. Maybe I would have known.” Below are thirteen characteristics of Date/Acquaintance Rapists. If you know someone who is displaying these characteristics, does that make them a rapist?

No.

But if you know someone who is in a relationship with someone exhibiting several of these behaviors, and especially if that someone is you, you can be affirmed through this list that this person is not a safe or healthy person to be in intimate relationship with. This is the list I wish I would have known before my own date rape. This is the list I’ve shared with thousands of youths, college students and women conferences over the last twenty years.

Below this list, I will share how these characteristics looked in my story with the numbers of the specific characteristic inserted at different points, so you can see how this list plays out in real life. In light of the current news, I encourage you to share these thirteen characteristics with all the young people in your life–especially those in a place of vulnerability.

13 Characteristics of Date/Acquaintance Rapists

Although there is no profile of a typical date or acquaintance rapist, experts have identified behavioral characteristics that tend to be exhibited by date and acquaintance rapists.

1. Displays anger or aggression, either physically or verbally (The anger need not be directed toward you, but may be displayed during conversations by general negative references to women, vulgarity, curtness toward others, and the like. Women are often viewed as adversaries.)

2. Displays a short temper; slaps and/or twists arms

3. Acts excessively jealous and/or possessive (Be especially suspicious of this behavior if you have recently met the person or are on a first or second date.)

4. Ignores your space boundaries by coming too close or placing his hand on your thigh, etc. (Be particularly cognizant of this behavior when it is displayed in public.)

5. Ignores your wishes

6. Attempts to make you feel guilty or accuses you of being uptight

7. Becomes hostile and/or increasingly more aggressive when you say no

8. Acts particularly friendly at a party or bar and tries to separate you from your friends

9. Insists on being alone with you on a first date

10. Demands your attention or compliance at inappropriate times, such as during class

11. Acts immaturely; shows little empathy or feeling for others and displays little social conscience

12. Asks personal questions and is interested in knowing more about you than you want to tell him

13. Subscribes excessively to traditional male and female stereotypes

*excerpt from Beauty Restored: Finding Life and Hope After Date Rape and Adapted from Carol Pritchard’s book, Avoiding Rape On and Off Campus

I met him the first week of my college freshmen orientation. He was charming, funny and a leader on campus. He was studying to be a Youth Pastor. I had never been away from home, and due to a painful relationship with my dad, I was hungry for love and attention.

The same week, he showed up at my dorm room. I remember wondering how he knew where I lived, but pushed the question aside. He asked if I wanted to go out on a date. I suggested a group date, but he pushed for time alone. I ignored the uncomfortable feeling inside and agreed (#9). The older girls were excited for me. They knew him, and he was funny with everyone. Why should I worry?

Soon after, we started dating more consistently. At first, he loved everything about me. But after a few weeks, things shifted. I remember coming out to the dorm lobby to meet him for dinner, and he asked me why I had chosen to wear something so awful. I went back to my dorm room embarrassed, in tears, and changed my clothes. He began telling me that my friends were talking about me and were not to be trusted (#8). I should spend more time with him, and after all, I hardly knew these new college friends.

One day, while driving in the car, I disagreed with something he said. He grabbed my thigh and squeezed tightly. While holding my thigh and smiling, he calmly told me that I was out of line. I felt trapped and afraid, but again, I didn’t listen. Then he let go of my leg and laughed. This was the beginning of him grabbing my thigh with an iron grip when he wanted me to pay attention (#4 and #7). If only I had known this was an actual characteristic of date rapists.

When I finally broke off the relationship, he followed me everywhere. He wanted another chance, another date, another opportunity to make up for how wrong things were going. No matter how many times I said no, he didn’t give up. Flowers showed up at my door, cards with confessions of love. He felt that God had brought us together. I was being too uptight, unforgiving. How could I not give him another chance, he asked. The girls around me swooned. Was I making a big deal out of nothing? He would not accept no for an answer. (#5 and #6)

So I agreed to one more date, as friends, on Valentine’s Day. But after dinner, he didn’t take me back to my dorm. He took me to an abandoned parking lot.

I remember being trapped, unable to get free from the car.

I remember the moment I gave up fighting and went far away in my head to survive what was happening to my body.

I remember him driving me back to my dorm, telling me that he’d give me a call some time soon, with a casual smile and wave goodbye.

I remember standing in the shower with all my clothes on, shaking and crying.

I remember changing the way I dressed, so that baggy clothes and dark colors hid my shape, my joy, hid me.

I remember hearing that he had done this before. I was number four.

I remember standing in the court room. Alone. And a woman judge asking me why I didn’t just get out of the car if things were “that bad”.

I remember feeling raped a second time by the court system.

It was Valentine’s Day, over 21 years ago.

If someone would have told me about these thirteen characteristics, I may have realized my gut instinct was in fact, telling me the truth. I may have thought twice about spending time with him. And even though everyone on campus seemed to love him, I may have given this list a second look and decided not to date him. But I never saw the list, and I was a broken nineteen year old who had zero self worth.

Before I became a photographer, I authored the book Beauty Restored: Finding Life and Hope After Date Rape. I spoke wherever I could – at women’s conferences, college campuses, and youth groups – and did over 40 national TV and radio interviews to bring awareness to a topic that is often kept quiet.

In my many years of speaking, I have witnessed how far reaching date rape is. I have held high school girls in my arms as they have sobbed uncontrollably. I have seen junior high boys weep under the chairs of the church. I have had grandmas confess that they have not told anyone of their rape for over 60 years. The loss in their voice, the grief, believing that swallowing the shame year after year was necessary.

These characteristics came to me after my rape. But you can share this list with friends, young people, youth groups, and college students to help prevent this horrible crime. Awareness is the key. Awareness has the power to make all the difference. Date/Acquaintance rape is never about sex, but power. The mind often feels crazy, second guessing everything, wondering if you are making a big deal out of nothing. And too often, I have found that the victim has been deprived of healthy love to know the difference. But we can change that. With our culture struggling to know how to respond to rape, you can have a powerful conversation with the young people you know. Working together, we can stop the shame and confusion. And even speak a word of hope to the one who is already hurting in silence.

*Learn more about Me Ra and her story.

You can find her at merakoh.com.

Like Me Ra on Facebook and Follow Her on Twitter.

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