Without Shame: The Rapist


Hunger usually drives an animal to hunt – at least that’s what humans have deduced from observing the actions of animals in the wild. The need for sustenance, the pain from the emptiness, the sheer need for food prompts such a brutal act. There’s a certain sensuality that shines through when a lioness hunts. The skill, the elegance, the brutality…

We revel in the lure the lioness presents in these moments, forgetting the significance of the life of the hunted. Sneak, lunge, attack – and just like that, a life is lost.

Mulwa thought of himself as a hunter in the wild. There was obvious grace and reason behind his actions, and his prey were only significant in that they satiated his hunger. They served no other purpose meaning there was no need to humanise them.

His father had taught him the trade over the years. Skills that had been passed down from father to son for the past three generations now lived in him, but he had honed them and improved upon them. He had better tactics, better weapons, better strategies, and most of all his prey were all prime animals. He travelled far and wide to find the most elegant, succulent animals.

His prey, beautiful as always, also served a challenge this time. He always hunted to satiate his appetite, but this time he was going to do more. He could taste the satisfaction on the tip of his tongue.

He could taste her.

Moving quietly through the trees, he watched her. He had been stalking her with careful precision. He knew how she moved, how she spoke, what she liked. While no one else had taken notice of her yet, he had, and had been watching her since she turned 16. A certain connection had been cultivated and she would feel it too – soon enough. Who knew that the boyish looking thing she used to be would turn into the flower she was now. She had just started to gain her curves and the childish roundness that had plagued her face had started to fade.

For the past 2 months, he had imagined all the different ways he could dominate her, but the outcome was always the same; his hands sliding up her legs, feeling the soft smooth skin of her inner thighs, parting them ever so slowly and violently sliding into her tight, wet heat. He would pound into her over and over and over again, until he had had enough. His lust for her would only last so long, then the real fun would begin.

She would either gasp for air, or scream from the pain when he decided to skin her the way father used to skin the gazelles. Just thinking about it made him excited. He shoved his hand into his pants, licked his lips and started to stroke himself. He sighed in pleasure. It had been so long. Ever since he spotted her, he had denied himself any and every form of pleasure. He needed a clear head to plan. She was better trained than the rest and he couldn’t risk failure because his mind was muddled with thoughts of pleasure. He huffed in disgust. “Patience, Mulwa. You’ve waited this long, you can wait another few days”. Groaning, he gave himself one last squeeze and took his hands out of his pants.

She would be going to her friend’s house this afternoon, and that’s when he would strike. He was slightly disappointed that it was this easy to master her patterns. He had expected it to present more of a challenge, but never mind. Getting away with it would be the real victory. The conquest was only a part of it. With his unassuming average looks it wouldn’t be hard to go unnoticed. People had swept over his face many times before and it would be no different this time. Everyone would be a suspect, everyone would be watched, and he would still be able to get away with it.

He sat in the bushes until the sun moved overhead and morning turned to afternoon. It was time.

He got on his motorcycle and moved out of the trees. The plan was simple; he would offer her a ride to her friend’s house, she would get on under the guise that he was just a helpful gentleman, and he would take her deep into the woods for the hunt. He had mapped out the area where the hunt would take place. After the first time, he would let her go, give her the illusion that there was hope and she could get away, and then he would capture her again and ride her. There was no way she could get away from him there. He knew the woods like the back of his hand. It was his land – his hunting grounds. He licked his lips again, “Fuck, I really hope she fights me.”

He kicked the stand off the ground, started the motorcycle, and began to ride away. As he rode, he went over the plan trying to discover if there were any holes. His intense focus on the plan meant that he didn’t hear the similar roar of engines in the distance until it was too late. Before he knew it, two men on motorcycles were beside him.

“Hey there, Mulwa,” said one of them. Mulwa looked at him in consternation, not knowing the man’s name. He interacted with the other men in the village who practiced the same trade, however he didn’t make it a point to be more than civil – friendly enough to be polite, but not enough to encourage the other men to try and foster a relationship with him. Vexed that he hadn’t heard their approach early enough, he turned and nodded at the man, not saying anything as he didn’t know his name and was not willing to fake pleasantries. He was already at the meeting point, and having them here made things considerably difficult. He could delay the hunt until next week, which would make more sense as they had already ruined the hunt, but the hunger screamed from the depth of his soul.


He would finish this today.

As soon as he made this decision, Mutile rounded the bend. It was time.
Mulwa turned and addressed the man who had spoken to him earlier. “Gentlemen, me and Mutile usually meet here so that her father isn’t aware of our little… meetings.”

A look of understanding crossed the man’s face and he looked to his companion and relayed the meaning. Mulwa hadn’t looked to him to see if he understood.
Goosebumps covered his skin in anticipation. He was more than ready, but the plan needed to change. His father would be disappointed, changing a plan so late was never good. It never ended well as he told him many times before, but no matter. He would succeed. He was not his father.

As she passed he called to her and said, “Where are you off to in such a hurry beautiful girl? This motorcycle is faster than your feet, climb on…”
He looked to the man again, the man nodded, and the two rode off.

When he turned his eyes back to Mutile, she had barely acknowledged his greeting and was shuffling on like some sort of skunk.

NO! NO, NO, NO! This wasn’t part of the plan! The little bitch was ruining everything.

“I know you heard me telling you to climb on,” he spat with all the menace of a looming threat as he pointed to the seat of the motorcycle.

The hunter was ready to pounce, and nothing would stop him.

He saw something flicker in her eyes, like she was going to challenge him. That little flicker pushed him over the edge. He lunged for Mutile and dragged her into the trees nearby. The little bitch wouldn’t get away from him. No animal ever gets away from a seasoned hunter.

She let out a scream and at any other time Mulwa would have revelled in the sound of abject horror that Mutile produced. It enabled him to not only hear her fear, but embrace it as well, however if anyone heard them out here this little game would end.

He ripped her clothes from her body, forced her to the ground and took what he needed.


Pure, unaltered pleasure.

He thrust and grunted one last time, letting his seed spill in her, and with release came clarity.

He had fucked up. The plan… HE SHOULD HAVE STUCK TO THE PLAN!

He jerked back and stood hurriedly, nearly tripping over his pants. He had to get away, now.

It was over for him.

By Sally Inda.


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