Nandita To Nandini
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Two Thousand And Ten Ch. 03 free porn video
Author’s note:
Welcome to the third chapter of Two Thousand and Ten – the tale of a year in the life of two friends from a seaside town in southern England. I would like to take this opportunity to point out that the following chapter is purely a work of fiction, my character names are chosen totally at random, and no resemblance to any person (living or dead), or any company/organisation, is intended and entirely coincidental. All characters are over 18 years of age. Please also remember that the author wishes to retain the right to use artistic licence whenever he wishes!
Hope you enjoy chapter three!
Two Thousand and Ten
Chapter Three – May and June
Saturday May 1st 2010 – 9:04am
Peter lay on his bed in his cell, unsure of why his life had gone so terribly wrong in the last few weeks. At the back of his mind were the horror stories one often hears about men being attacked or raped in prison – with sex offenders, somewhat ironically, being most at risk. So far he hadn’t experienced any threat to his personal safety, but the fear of being attacked or sexually assaulted was his constant companion. He knew his nerves were in tatters – the constant noise of the prison environment only serving to add to the mental torture of incarceration. Prisons are, for those who have never been inside such institutions, pretty noisy places. Not only is there the constant sound of conversation, often of the shouting and swearing variety, there is also the noise of hard shoes walking on hard floors and echoing off hard walls and ceilings to contend with. And then of course there were the alarms, and the lockdowns, and the banging of cell doors, and the barked orders of the prison officers. Peter’s nerves were hanging by a thread like the sword of Damocles, and he was unsure as to whether or not he had the mental reserves to endure much more.
Though he was by no means a religious man, he found his meetings with the prison chaplain to be one of his only sources of real comfort. That, and the occasional visit and phone call from Lindi. At her last visit the day before, she had told him of her efforts to track down the young woman who had accused him of raping her. There was still no news on that front but she, and Alison – the lesbian who was carrying Peter’s child as part of his agreement to be a surrogate father – would not be giving up anytime soon.
He thanked her profusely for her efforts thus far but as each day passed he felt an increasing sense of resignation that she would never be found. At least not until she resurfaced at his trial, when the odds against him as the accused would be heavily stacked towards him being convicted and possibly spending the next twelve years at least, being held at Her Majesty’s Pleasure. And then of course there would be the label that came attached with his alleged crime – he would most likely be a registered sex offender for life. And for what? For simply being rough with her during sex – something she had urged him to be.
His whole life had been fucked by the actions of one selfishly vindictive woman. He had considered taking his own life on several occasions since being imprisoned within the austere walls of HMP Nottingham, he felt he had reached a point where only his anger was keeping him going. Those dark thoughts only ever lasted a fleeting few seconds but, Peter reflected darkly, they seemed to be becoming disturbingly frequent.
Monday, May 3rd 2010 – 12:09pm
Lindi had made sure to vary her observation post so as not to attract too much attention. Today she was sitting under a tree about fifty yards or so from the entrance to the Nightingale Halls of Residence where Stevie Williams, Peter’s accuser, was reported to reside. There had still been no sign of the young woman, or of any woman who closely resembled Peter’s description of the woman he had sex with in his hotel room and who then subsequently accused him of raping her. Her efforts of tracking her down had thus far proved fruitless. But this weekend might be different.
For those unfamiliar with life in the United Kingdom, the first Monday in May is what’s known as a Bank Holiday. More specifically, the May Day Bank Holiday. Bank Holidays were, as their name suggests, traditionally days when bank workers and those employed in other financial professions took a day off work. Since very few other businesses could function without access to the banking profession, they too took the day off also. Factories, mills, shops, offices and all but the most essential of public services, took the day off work and Bank Holidays became full Public Holidays. And it was because of this fact that today was a public holiday, that Lindi had reinforcements.
Not only had her new boyfriend Clive joined her, but both Alison and her partner Becky had come along too. And the four of them had decided upon a new tactic to intercept the girl. Lindi and Clive were masquerading as a couple sitting down under a tree whilst Alison and Becky, a short distance away but in a more prominent position, sat on a bench ready and waiting to tail the girl should she show up. The four of them remained in contact with each other via a cheap set of walkie-talkies that Lindi had purchased especially for this most concerted of efforts yet to track down and intercept the elusive Miss Williams.
The waiting continued…
Monday, May 3rd 2010 – 2:34pm
It may have been a public holiday in the outside world, but within the walls of Her Majesty’s Prison Nottingham, the routine continued just as it did on any normal day. Today it was time for a part of the prison routine that Peter dreaded – shower time.
Every few days he and the rest of the inmates on his floor of the remand wing, had to file out to the ablutions building located a short distance from the remand centre itself where they were to use the communal showers and receive a freshly laundered set of clothes for the next few days of their incarceration. Peter was no stranger to communal showers – he took showers after PE lessons at school and at the gym he used to visit before his knee injury curtailed his exercise regimen. But those changing rooms had always had a sense of masculine camaraderie about them. It was an opportunity for men to be men with other men away from the gaze of women – a private space where men would sit and chat with each other following a satisfying workout and then repair to the showers for an invigorating deluge of hot water. Peter had no real problem with the social nudity aspect of communal showers, he was confident in his own body despite his lack of success with women, but the communal showers of the prison held an air of menace about them. The old ‘don’t drop the soap’ phenomenon.
Peter and his group of inmates dutifully stripped naked and padded from the changing area along a short corridor to the showers. Standing under the deluge of water was both a soothing and at the same time unnerving thing. One of the inmates that he had been warned about, a tattooed mountain of a man known only to him as Jenks, was apparently renowned for taking advantage of other inmates for his own sexual gratification. Or so Peter had been led to believe by some of his fellow inmates.
Thus far Peter had avoided showering next to the man, although he had noticed him winking at him on several occasions from the other side of the room. Today though, Peter’s luck ran out and he found himself being approached by Jenks as he came and stood under the showerhead next to the one Peter was using.
‘Always nice to see a new cutie on the wing!’ Jenks said menacingly, ‘You know I’d just love to get to know that nice arse of yours a little better.’
Peter decided to ignore the man – a tactic that could either work or backfire spectacularly.
‘The strong silent type are we?’ Jenks remarked after a few moments of Peter’s silence.
‘Leave ‘im alone Jenks, yer filthy fucker!’ Another of Peter’s fellow inmates
interjected – a petty criminal called Jackson who had spent half his adult life behind bars in a succession of different prisons.
‘The fuck’s your problem??’ Jenks retorted aggressively.
The two men then engaged in an angry exchange, which threatened to turn violent. Peter used the opportunity to beat a hasty retreat – it had been the closest call yet. He resolved to thank Jackson for stepping in – he decided to use some of his money to buy the man some cigarettes, the unofficial currency inside, by way of thanks.
Monday, May 3rd 2010 – 5:43pm
In an attempt to arouse less suspicion, Lindi and Clive had swapped positions with Alison and Becky – a tactic that meant abandoning their posts for a few moments, but it was imperative not to arouse the suspicion of the campus security. They had been lucky so far, but there was a real feeling that their luck might run out at any moment.
‘Alison calling Lindi – can you hear me? Over.’ Alison’s voice crackled over the cheap walkie-talkie.
‘Go ahead Alison.’ Lindi replied over the airwaves.
‘Eyeball! We have eyeball! Target sighted, over.’
‘You sure? You’re really sure it’s her??’ Lindi exclaimed excitedly.
‘Roger, one blonde haired female exiting halls of residence with mole on left cheek. She is approaching your position. Over.’
‘I see her!’ Lindi said as she caught sight of the young woman as she came around the corner, ‘Thanks for your help girls, we’ll take it from here!’
‘Good luck you two.’ Alison said, ‘Let’s hope she’s the one! Over.’
Instead of their luck running out, it appeared that their luck had changed! Lindi and Clive rose from the bench as the young woman walked towards them. She was an exact match for Peter’s description – blonde haired, blue eyes and with a distinctive mole on her left cheek. With her heart in her mouth Lindi caught up with her.
‘Excuse me, is your name Stevie Williams?’ Lindi asked.
‘Yes, who’s asking?’ The young woman replied.
‘My name is Lindi. I’m a friend of Peter.’
‘Peter who?’ Stevie replied.
‘Peter Swanmore. You know, the poor guy who is currently in prison because you said he raped you.’
‘I have nothing to say to you!’ The young woman spat in reply and stormed off.
‘Stevie listen to me!’ Lindi called as she and Clive sped up and caught up to her, ‘All I want is to hear your side of the story, that’s all. Is there somewhere we can go to talk about this? I promise you, all we want is to hear the truth about what happened.’
Stevie stopped, sighed heavily and then turned to face Lindi and Clive.
‘Fine. Whatever.’ She said eventually, ‘Just with you though, I’m not saying anything with him present!’
‘I’ll um… go and wait with the others.’ Clive said, and with a peck on Lindi’s cheek he went off to find Alison and Becky.
‘There’s a little coffee place around the corner. We can go there.’ Stevie replied, ‘But I’m telling you now, I’m not going to change my story.’
‘All I want to know is what really happened.’ Lindi said, ‘Peter is my oldest and dearest friend – I owe it to him to hear both sides of the story. I simply cannot believe that he would do… you know… the thing you have accused him of.’
‘Yeah, well it shows how well you know him then, doesn’t it!’ Stevie replied.
Monday, May 3rd 2010 – 6:01pm
Campus Coffee had been serving the students of Nottingham University for several years and had become one of the student population’s favourite hangouts. Lindi supposed that Stevie had chosen it because it was a ‘safe’ place, where she would be amongst familiar surroundings. Lindi knew that she had to tread VERY carefully – this meeting could make the difference between Peter being cleared and potentially spending the next 12 years of his life behind bars.
While she queued for coffee as Stevie sat at a table, Lindi took out her phone and, as discreetly as she could, she flicked on its voice recorder and then popped it into the breast pocket of her blouse. She hoped this would work. With a deep breath she took the two cups of coffee – an Americano for herself and a Latte for Stevie – and went across and sat opposite the young woman.
‘Now then.’ Lindi began, setting the coffee down on the table, ‘I just want you to start from the beginning.’
Stevie sighed, took a sip of coffee and set her cup down on the table before her.
‘I wasn’t looking to have sex or anything that night.’ She began, ‘I had gone out with a few friends – a couple of girls in the same halls as me – but we got separated. They found a couple of guys and then just like, abandoned me in this pub.’
‘What pub would that be?’ Lindi asked – she knew that she had to cover all the bases so as to provide the best possible evidence.
‘The Sherriff’s Head.’ Stevie said, ‘It’s near the city centre.’
‘They sound like really good friends if you don’t mind my saying so. To just abandon you like that.’ Lindi said as she took a sip of her coffee.
‘Yeah well…’ Stevie said, ‘Anyway, they just buggered off with these two guys and I was left alone in this pub. Well, not alone exactly – the place was heaving.’
‘What happened then?’ Lindi prompted.
‘Well, I kind of resigned myself to the fact that I would be going home on my own and so I decided to have the one drink and then head home. Except that it was so busy I was having difficulty getting served.’ Stevie said, ‘And then this guy sidles up to me and offers to help me out.’
‘That would be Peter, I assume.’ Lindi said.
‘Yes. He managed to get the barman’s attention for me, so to say thank you I bought him a pint.’ Stevie said, ‘I’m an impoverished student but it seemed like the polite thing to do. Anyway, I decided I quite liked him and so we went off to find a table. We sat and chatted and the guy, Peter, kept on buying me drinks the whole evening.’
‘How many had you had?’ Lindi asked.
‘I don’t know – I kind of lost count after six.’ Stevie said.
Lindi’s heart skipped a beat – she knew this was a lie. Peter had said that they only had two drinks each in the pub – one of which was the one Stevie had paid for – and there was another factor to add weight to this. Peter, for as long as Lindi had known him – which is to say, most of her life – had always paid for drinks on his credit card. Whilst in prison, Peter had made a few phone calls to his credit card company and the resulting statement revealed that Peter had only paid for one round of drinks that evening.
‘You lost count?’ Lindi asked.
‘I should’ve realised that he was deliberately getting me drunk.’ Stevie said, starting to get a little tearful, ‘We stayed in the pub until closing time. I told him I just wanted to go home but he insisted we go back to his room for a ‘nightcap’ as he called it.’
‘So I’m guessing you went with him.’ Lindi said.
‘I didn’t really have much say in the matter – I could barely walk!’ Stevie said, her tears starting to show in the corner of her eyes.
Damn, this girl is a good actress! Lindi thought to herself.
‘You could barely walk?’ Lindi asked, seeking confirmation for her recording.
‘He almost had to carry me.’ Stevie said, ‘Anyway, he walked me to his hotel and took me up to his room. As soon as we got there he ordered some champagne – presumably to get me even more pissed than I already was in order to be doubly sure I was incoherent enough to not be able to defend myself.’
‘So he dragged you to his hotel room and plied you with champagne. Then what?’ Lindi asked.
‘He… he… undressed me – I mean he practically tore my clothes off. He was like an animal!’ Stevie said, beginning to sob, ‘He forced me down onto the bed – it was then that I knew he was going to rape me – that and the fact that he started pulling his trousers and pants down. I said to him to at least wear a con
dom but he refused.’
‘What did he say exactly?’ Lindi asked.
‘He… he said… ‘Open your legs bitch, you’re gonna take what I give you!’ And then he… he… he grabbed me by the neck and… and… held me down and then he… he raped me!’
Stevie’s body heaved with a fit of sobbing – a sobbing which, to Lindi’s eyes, looked a little too forced to be convincing.
Lindi was sure this girl was lying – Peter would never say anything as corny as what Stevie was claiming, not even when he was at his most sexually inflamed. But she knew that everything the girl had said so far was useless in proving Peter’s innocence, with the exception of the amount of drink. The CCTV footage that Acheson and his team had hopefully obtained would go a long way to proving that if not lying, then she was at least being economical with the truth. But she needed more – only an admission would be enough.
‘I waited until he was asleep and then I managed to get myself out of the bed. I put on what was left of my clothes and then quietly left the room.’ Stevie continued tearfully.
‘Where did you go from there?’ Lindi asked.
‘Back to my room in Nightingale House. My friends were already there – seems that they didn’t get lucky after all.’
‘How so?’
‘The men they went off with weren’t interested in them in the end. The girls were clearly pissed off. I told them I’d had sex with a guy in his hotel room – they thought I was boasting and they instantly started calling me a slut for just casually going off with a man who is almost old enough to be my father.’
Hello, Lindi thought to herself, some pressured slut-shaming, could be an interesting avenue.
‘So what did you do?’ Lindi enquired.
‘Well, I told them he’d raped me.’ Stevie said, ‘Look Linda…’
‘Lindi.’
‘Look Lindi, you know how it is for us women – all those pressures from other women and from society… and especially from men. I mean it doesn’t take much to be labeled as a whore.’ Stevie said, as if searching for an excuse.
‘Wait a minute, are you saying you told those girls that Peter raped you, rather than admitting that you had sex with him willingly?’ Lindi asked.
‘Yes, well… no… I mean… they… I…’ Stevie stammered, obviously flustered.
‘He didn’t rape you did he.’ Lindi stated levelly.
‘He… he…’ Stevie stuttered.
A brief pause ensued – the tension in the little booth at the university coffee shop could be cut with a knife.
Stevie sighed heavily.
‘Alright then, no… he didn’t.’ Stevie said eventually, real shame coming out in her voice, ‘He didn’t rape me.’
‘He didn’t rape you.’ Lindi reiterated, prompting once again for confirmation.
‘No, he didn’t rape me.’ Stevie said dejectedly.
YESSS!! RESULT!! Lindi felt like screaming at the top of her voice, but decided to try and maintain her focus.
‘Why the hell did you report him then?’ Lindi asked.
‘I… I just felt so… so dirty! I acted like a complete and utter whore!! And my insides felt really sore because of how rough I told him to be with me. I wanted to just go home and put it behind me, but it was the other girls, they called me a slut. But once I said that he’d raped me they changed their tune completely – all of a sudden I was a victim and Peter was an evil, hateful man. They insisted I go to the police – I couldn’t just back out and say ‘no, it’s okay he didn’t actually rape me – he just had rough sex with me because I basically told him to fuck my cunt so hard I end up with internal bruising.’ They went with me to the police station and practically forced me to report him – for the good of womankind, they said at the time. I didn’t want them to think of me as a liar and a whore so I went along with it. I had to undergo the most humiliating examination in my vagina – they said that there was some bruising that proved my story and that was that, they said they were going to issue a warrant for his arrest. I didn’t mean for it to go that far, honest!!’
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