Aftermath Of a Rape

I sat in a hospital room, wearing just a gown. I had cried all the way to the hospital and was still sobbing as I waited for detectives to arrive. The police that responded to the house had taken a quick statement and placed the clothes I was wearing in a paper bag, marking it with yellow tape. After checking for injuries, I was allowed to slip on a coat and driven to the hospital in town. Once I arrived, two hospital staff and the police officer escorted me to a room, telling me detectives were on their way.

I was raped. Two men had broken into my home and sexually used me for over an hour. I am Janelle, 43 years old, married and the mother of three kids. I never thought I would be raped as I am about 30 pounds overweight, not really pretty and just a typical Mom. My husband is out of town on business and the kids were in school as this was the middle of the day. I came home from a nail appointment and as I walked in the door, I was attacked. I was slapped, my shirt torn away and my yoga pants ripped off me. I was assaulted in the living room first and then taken to the bedroom where both men raped me multiple times. As I sat in the hospital room, I tried to remember everything that took place.

A knock on the hospital door broke me out of my trance and two people walked in. The man introduced himself as a detective and the woman with him was a rape crisis counsellor.

“I have some questions for you,” said detective Santiago. “Do you have a description of what the men looked like?”

I told him there were two men, one black and one white. The black man was in his 30s, tall, skinny with a buzz cut hair. The white man was also in his 30s, heavier than the other man with a multiple tatoos and longer hair. Both wore jeans and tshirts.

“Which man had a larger penis” asked the detective?

I looked at him, puzzled. The counsellor nodded to me to answer the question.

“The black man was bigger than the other guy,” I said. “He was very thick. The other man was not circumcised.”

“Did you orgasm during the rape,” asked the detective?

I thought back through the ordeal, realizing that I had orgasmed twice during the hour they were in the house and using me.

“Yes,” I said.

The detective looked at the counsellor, raising his eyebrows. He wrote something down on his pad of paper and continued with the questions.

“The officers responding to the house bagged your clothes as evidence,” he said. “We noticed you were wearing a thong and a lace bra. In addition, a search of your home found two sexual aids including a vibrator and a black dildo. Are both these sexual aids yours?”

I gasped as I realized he was trying to turn all this back on me.

“Yes, I was wearing a thong that day and yes, my husband and I have a few toys he uses on me,” I said.

“We are trying to decide if these men knew you,” said Santiago. “Have you ever cheated on your husband?”

“I really don’t think this has anything to do with what happened to me,” I cried out. “These men came into my home and raped me multiple times. I am the victim.”

There was silence in the room, so much you could hear the clock on the wall ticking as no one spoke.

“Yes, I had a nine month affair with a neighbor about two years ago,” I finally said. “He cut it off after he moved away. My husband never knew.”

Again, the detective wrote a bunch down in his pad.

“Well, we need to do a rape kit for DNA,” said the counsellor. “Please lay back and place your legs up and a nurse will be in.”

A few minutes later, a nurse came into the room. I was stunned he was male, in his mid 20s and holding a bunch of swabs. He placed my legs in the air and pushed my gown up over my stomach. The detective and the counsellor remained in the room, watching it all.

“The vagina is visibly open and has signs of sexual activity,” said the male nurse as he started the exam. “Semen is present on her legs but dried. The anal opening also appears to have sexual activity and also had dried semen around the opening. As the victim is shaved in the vaginal area, no hair evidence is available. I am having problems with obtaining a swab and will need some assistance here.”

The counsellor rose out of her chair and walked over. The nurse asked her to hold my pussy lips apart so a swab could be obtained. As the counsellor started to part my lips, she brushed against my clit and I moaned. My clit was still sensitive from the rape apparently. Everyone in the room heard my moan and as the nurse placed one swab inside me, his thumb was on my clit. I felt myself begin to get wet.

“Miss, if you can, please stop moving your hips,” said the nurse. He was now moving his thumb up and down on my clit.

The counsellor holding my lips open was also massaging my pussy and I noticed the detective had walked over for a better view of the procedure. His erect cock was now noticeable in his pants and he reached down to adjust it twice.

“Please,” I asked, “can we take a break? I need a break.”

“We need to get a sample of the semen,” said the detective. “Just try and relax and it will be over. Let me ask you some more questions while we finish up.”

When was the last time I had sex with my husband? One week ago. Had I masturbated since then? Yes. With the black dildo? Yes. Had I ever been sexual with a black man? Yes, years ago. Did my husband and I have fantasies of forced sex? Not that I recall. Did I wear the tight yoga pants to get men to notice me? No, they were comfortable. Did I have fantasies of rape? No. Did my former lover ever hold me down during sex? Yes. Had I ever been tied up during sex? Yes, years ago with a boyfriend. Had I ever had sex with more than one man at a time? Yes, during college.

As the questions continued and the nurse and counselor continued to touch my pussy and clit, I could feel I was becoming soaked. I looked at the nurse and he was smiling. At one point, he had two fingers deep inside me stating he was looking for semen that had gone deep. The counselor was massaging my lips now and I closed my eyes trying to stop my body from what I knew was coming.

The detective continued with his questions. Did the two men bite my nipples? Yes. Did they perform oral sex on me? Yes. Did I perform oral sex on them? Yes. Did they ejaculate in my mouth at any time? Yes. Did I swallow it? Yes. Did I usually swallow during oral sex? Mostly, yes. Could I feel it when they ejaculated inside my vagina? Yes. Is this when I came? Yes, one of the times. Did I enjoy men not using condoms and ejaculating inside me? Yes.

All these questions and the counselor rubbing my lips made so I could hold back. I tried to stop it but started squirting love juice all over the nurse and started screaming. I was so ashamed but could not hold back. Everyone in the room was looking at me with no one saying anything. My nipples showed through the hospital gown and my pussy was pulsating and soaked.

The detective moved the nurse to the side and looked into my eyes. I could see him unzip his pants and take the third cock I had seen that day out. The nurse walked around next to me, untied his scrub bottoms and took his cock out.

“It appears you want more don’t you,” asked the detective?

“Yes,” I cried. “I need more.”