Anthony had recently started dating a new woman after a long stretch of loneliness and isolation. He'd almost given up on women completely when lovely Rachel came into his life. She was a delicate and fragile beauty who reminded him of the stars from 1930's. Old Hollywood. She looked like an Art Deco statuette, the perfect trophy sitting on his mantle, her slender arms reaching heavenward to the sky. Small boned, elegant, and judging from her milky white skin, probably easily bruised. He was careful not to make any drastic sexual moves on her lovely body that might destroy their budding relationship before it progressed into the very special territory he had in mind.

The biggest hurdle to their romance was the burning sexual need that perpetually churned in the back of Anthony's mind with every woman he dated: his compulsion to get rough. Rough sex, domination and total sexual obedience to his demands were the keys to ultimate happiness. - the all-encompassing, natural and necessary requirement for a successful man/woman relationship. The female must demonstrate a willing desire to fulfill his fantasy to exact specifications. If she agreed to his demands, it would prove beyond all doubt that she was his true rough sex soul mate who appreciated and understood the importance of this initiation, the rite of passage into the world of male/female bonding.

Without the female's total complicit understanding and acceptance, the act would lose its power to transform and lift both of them to supreme levels of male dominance and female submission. His mission, from the moment he felt the stirrings of erection in his youth, was to fully bring a woman in line with the ancient rituals of mating from eons past, before polite society and repressive religious teachings polluted and ruined the essence of fucking.

The male body was clearly designed by nature to conquer women's orifices -mouth, cunt, and ass via the penetrating penis/weapon. When Anthony looked down at his cock, he saw an overpowering, thrusting tool, the evolution of mankind wrapped up in one beefy hunk. His meat was designed to take. This "thing" between his legs wasn't built to caress the inner walls of a female's pussy or guarantee that she experienced an orgasm. It wasn't made to be a sensitive and understanding instrument. . Such bullshit was the product of brainwashing that flowed from women's magazines and the touchy-feely erotica romance propaganda machine. A cock was designed to deposit cum and brand a woman as "HIS" forever.

He'd devoted many hours of thought to his penis, what it meant in the larger scheme of things, and what its ultimate meaning was in the universe. He knew that his philosophy was the only correct one and anybody who disagreed could fuck off. Such misguided fools had been warped by unnatural concepts which had nothing to do with the real world of male fucking and pounding ownership.

To his extreme frustration, no female he'd dated had agreed to his extreme demands. Even kinky chicks who loved having their butts spanked red, their arms and legs tightly bound with ropes cutting into their flesh, their nipples pinched, their eager faces splashed with his milky cum or slapped and whipped until they cried, had refused his request for a full blown, pussy pounding ravaging violation that would launch both of them into the upper realms of bliss and total domination. He always made it explicitly clear that the first "taking" must be a REAL violation, not a fake porn routine, but the real deal. His object, his slave, must endure whatever he dished out just the way a genuine "victim" would He'd decide the time, the place, and the manner in which the initial scenario would play out.

All the power, all the decisions, would be his and his alone. The consenting woman of his dreams would have absolutely no control, no warning, and no choice about what happened once the ball got rolling. The action might happen at home, in her own soft bed. It might happen in the back seat of his car, a hand tightly clamped over her warm, struggling mouth. It might happen in a park or in the musky woods. He often drove by an abandoned park on the outskirts of town which never failed to capture his sexual imagination. It contained one lone, splintered bench that time had forgotten. He fantasized incessantly about what a wonderful "taking" site it would make, out there in the middle of nowhere. He had plans for that bench.

He'd roughly yank his shocked woman out of her nice warm bed, throw her in the back seat of his car and drive to this excitingly isolated destination. . He'd strip her panties down and bend her roughly over that rotting bench and it would hurt, really hurt bad. She'd get nasty splinters ground into her thighs and tummy during the ordeal. Nobody said it would be pleasant. This was to be a humiliating, painful procedure.

Or maybe he'd construct a secret dungeon in the woods and she'd awaken to find herself chained to a wall, unable to rescue herself no matter how loud she screamed and begged to be released. Yes, she'd recover with no permanent physical harm done, but she'd never forget this unique fantasy/reality bonding experience. There were so many options to consider, all of them tantalizing. Hours and hours were spent planning and scheming.

Invariably, whenever Anthony shared his secret obsession and his relationship requirement for a "first time violation", the woman shouted "Hell no!" in an indignant, terrified tone, semi-freaking out, putting a fast end to the scenario. Little hypocrites! He'd read a huge amount of sex research that said over and over again that being roughly fucked and taken against their will was the number one taboo fantasy of women - even the most prudish or conservative female. So why didn't they eagerly jump at the chance to live out their hottest forbidden fantasy with a caring man? A man who understood their inner desires?

Would they prefer that this degrading and awful act be perpetrated by a stranger breaking into their home in the dead of night, a felon, a wicked dude who might even murder them for sick thrills? Wouldn't they prefer their ultimate rough sex fantasy be accomplished by a nice guy, a man with their best interests at heart? Someone just like him who'd given this matter a great deal of careful thought? Why were women so damned stubborn about this? The problem was that they only wanted fake "play" rough stuff from time to time, but that's not what Anthony had in mind. He wanted it to be as stunningly real as possible........