Molly's Sober Birthday

The sun was shining on a brand new day and Molly smiled as she stood and finished her morning tea on the back porch of her little cottage in her cozy little town.

She was fortunate to be here. Ten years of sobriety had treated her well and she had recently celebrated her recovery birthday with her friends in the local alcoholics anonymous fellowship. Over the past decade she had built her life back up from nothing after having spent her twenties in the grip of addiction and mental illness. It had started with casual drinking in school which had quickly progressed to a daily habit, soon followed by experimentation with cocaine and mdma which had eventually triggered a manic episode and a diagnosis of bi polar disorder.

Within a few short years she was in and out of psych wards and couch surfing with the few friends who would have her, and that was when she was introduced to crack. She met a man who turned her onto the pipe and then turned her out in short order. She had never been a pretty girl, with her greasy skin and the ever so slightly off putting symmetry of her face. Nevertheless she was vain enough to think herself attractive, and her natural straight blonde hair and perky little ass and B cups were enough to catch the eye of plenty of random losers scrolling through Craigslist for a cheap fuck. And so she had become a whore. Sucking cock and getting fucked for crack cocaine on rough city streets which were a far cry from her posh suburban upbringing. It went on like that for years.

And then something had changed. During a mandatory stint in rehab something had just clicked. She was sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Now here she was. Healthy at 40 years old and with a new job in accounting starting soon after years spent back in school. She still had to pinch herself some days just to believe she was really here and not back on the street where she had been nothing but an animal meant to be fucked and bred for money.

Never again.

As she turned to head back inside, a fist connected hard with her solar plexus, making her see stars and rendering her unconscious in seconds.

.....................

She sputtered back into consciousness, struggling to breathe. Her eyes ope Ed but everything was a blur. Someone had her nose clamped shut and there was something cold and hard jabbed in between her lips. A strong hand held her by the chin, clamping her mouth shut around the invading object. She inhaled through her mouth as deeply as she could, desperate for air, and it was like being thrown into an ice bath full of plugged in toasters. A billion nerve endings sang all at once as she forcefully inhaled crack cocaine for the first time in over a decade.

She spat the pipe out. It clattered to the floor, but it was too late. She was high as fuck. And the strong rough hand that had been holding her still while she smoked moved down to grip her throat. Her vision cleared.

It was Mike. The friend who had gotten her the accounting gig. He was supposed to be sober, but she had heard rumors that he had relapsed recently and so had told him she needed to distance herself from him to protect her own recovery. But they were friends! Why was this happening?

"No no no! You can't do this!" She spat and cried as her body tensed from head to toe and she started to struggle against the bonds she now realized were keeping her tied to one of her wooden kitchen chairs, legs spread wide.

She was naked. Her face was sore, and she could now see that she was in her bedroom facing the full length mirror hanging from the back of her closet door. She was quickly developing two black eyes from the punch to the face. Must have been a strong hit, or maybe he had hit her again while she was down. Fuck! Her heart was racing. She was so fucking HIGH! How could this be?!

Mike laughed cruelly and turned her face with his hands so her eyes would meet his.

"Hey Molly." He drawled her name out slowly in a mocking and hostile tone. "So nice to finally see you naked and stoned." He reached down with one hand and pinched her left nipple as roughly as he could, not caring if he did any real damage.

Molly weakly attempted to kick with her bound legs and squealed like a pig. He got down to his knees in front of her and rested his head on her leg, gazing up at her with something like earnestness on his face.

"Always too good to fuck me. Never happy with the guys you did fuck. You stupid ugly cunt."

He roughly jammed three fat fingers in her already sopping wet fuck hole. Molly had always been self conscious about how wet her pussy got. It seemed like too much. But without fail at the slightest stimulation her little pink cunt slit would start dripping with juice, strands of her wetness like spider silk running down from her vulva.

She moaned like a whore. She couldn't help it, as his fingers pistoned in and out of her tight muscle bag, her pussy reflexively squeezing around them. It felt good. And she was too fucked up to be scared, too high to give a fuck about anything but feeling her little cum hole get expertly finger fucked by a man who had simply decided to show her how weak she really was. Shame welled up inside her chest as a knot of sexual tension tightened within her core, and she came, screaming, like a helpless girl.

"Fuuuuuucckk, no no no no yeeeeeessss! Please... don't make me a whore! Fuck, please... I don't, I just need, fuck!"

She was babbling incoherently now.

"Ooooh, poor baby girl." Mike mocked her as he rose from his knees, withdrawing his fingers from her dripping cunt and shoving them into her mouth so she could taste her own juices. Molly had eaten pussy before, usually to entertain the men she let fuck her for money. She felt horribly embarrassed at the taste of her own twat, and as he thrust his fingers towards her throat she gagged and spit, tears flowing freely from her now beet red face.

Mike had dropped his pants while he was gagging her. He hurriedly kicked them away. His angry eight inches were as red and inflamed as her face as he swiftly loosed the bonds holding her to her chair. He pulled her to her feet, painfully wrenching her arm up and behind her where he quickly secured her hands together with a zip tie.

"Please stop... I won't tell anyone just please leave me alone... don't hurt me!" Molly pleaded.

"Shut the fuck up, cunt!" He pushed her toward the bed, her feet shuffling hurriedly before he stepped back and gave her a swift kick in the ass, leaving a bright red boot print on her lily white left cheek and sending her sprawling over her nice clean bedspread. She was now bent over the mattress, her sloppy engorged mound visible just under her quivering bleached asshole.

Mike stepped forward and grabbed her roughly by the waist, pulling her back toward him as he found a good angle. He took his cock in his hand, long and as girthy as a can of that monster energy drink that sober whores like her guzzle down relentlessly. He lined it up with her slit, rubbing it up and down over her wetness in a generous act of compassion rather than just shoving it in dry.

"Noooo, please...

Don't rape me, Mike... you're my friend! Oh good nooo-"

She moaned and begged and before she even finished the sentence, he pushed into her. Her cunt gripped his cock like it was desperate for a friend, making loud wet squelching noises as he pushed the tip in and out before slamming home and beginning to thrust in and out. He held her by the waist. She quietly cried and stuttered nonsensically before starting to moan low in the back of her throat at the feeling of being stretched so good.

"Can't rape a whore, Molly. Can't rape a dog with a woman's face like you, slut." He thrust hard with each word, emphasizing her humiliation. He reached forward and gripped her by the hair, pulling her head back and turning it so she had to look him in the face. He thought she looked good with tears running from her eyes. Not pretty (that was something she would never be), but hot in a pathetic kind of way. And as her cunt involuntarily gripped and squeezed around his cock to the frantic coke fueled beat of her heart, little wet noises and pussy farts announcing her utter loss of dignity on her behalf, he realized the truth about her.

She was a special kind of animal. One made for abuse and nothing more. There was no way he could ever let her go.

He spit in her face and laughed as she balked at the insult, shutting her eyes and sobbing through deep halting breaths as his phlegm and saliva ran down over the bridge of her nose and dripped into her open mouth.

Molly couldn't take much more. As Mike's brutish instrument pumped in and out of her, hitting her swollen and battered cunt in all the right places at once, she came again. Hard. She felt her vagina betray her, clamping down around her rapist, her body telling her in no uncertain terms that his rough and unabiding treatment was what she really needed. That and one other thing.

"Uuggghhh, fuuuuuck! Fuck! No... god... yeah.... oh my god! C-c-c-cumming......"

Mike just smirked, pulled her hair harder prompting a puppy like yelp of pain, and pounded as deep into her as he could. He felt a release building in his core. This was even better than he could have hoped for. He always knew she was a slut. But for a while he had believed her when she carried herself as though she was above him. Now they both knew the truth.

Mike roared and pumped enough cum into her to feel it running out the sides of her tight little hole around him. He looked down at her. She was quietly crying and staring at herself in the mirror. Then he observed her eyes drifting down to the crack pipe laying on the floor where she had spit it out.

She looked up at him with empty blue eyes.

"Mike?"

"Can I have another hit please?"