Odd thing, waking to the rustle of sheets I alone occupied. Or so I wondered. The feel of the linen sliding along my bare legs slight yet demanding attention. I’m scared to admit it, but I couldn’t move. I stared at the mottled dark, shifty shadows I couldn’t make out, no candle light to help me discern more. My mouth was parted so slightly, silly I know, but I was afraid even to close my mouth would give me away.
As if I would be in less danger if I simply… stilled. The sheet continued to shift, slowly, my feet revealed to the chill, then my knees, my thighs. I began to notice oddities. The way the mattress might have been depressed to the right of me, my body angled oddly as a result. No, not might have, was. If I was not terrified before, the knowledge that someone was certainly sitting there put me catatonic.
I began to cry, silently of course. Vocal and noisy seemed so, so very dangerous at the moment. The sheet had revealed almost all. Chills from the cold air frosting along my hip line, only perturbed by the heat of my heart beating. Beating so very fast.
When I was a little girl, I remember I loved the forest. Finding the nooks and crannies, rivers and sludge, rocks and other fun secrets I should not have enjoyed, but so very much did. Until one day, my exploration was rather abruptly ended with a fall.
The pain was immediate, it was harsh, unforgiving. I could not confuse it, I could not beg of it nor could I barter with it, it made no attempt to persuade nor cajole me. No, the needles of the bushes, the hard pebbles I landed upon simply hurt me.
The hand I now felt along my ankle was different. Though I knew with no sense of confusion that it bore me harm, promising an event I had never permitted, desired or wished. Though all of that were true, it was gentle. Concentric circles, slow and with tender grip along my leg now.
I couldn’t think to wish it hurt like that fall, didn’t have the judgement to realize that had this intrusion been a more cruel, painful method, perhaps it would have jarred my frozen state.
Instead, I did not a thing. The hand crept up in its gentle kind of way. The bed shifting once again, I felt the pressure of weight, quite a bit of it resting now over my waist. Dark as it was, I knew what it felt like even so young as nineteen for a man to drape over me, his knees locked tight on either side of my hips.
Why couldn’t I move? I felt a kiss at my neck, and for a twisted, perverse moment, I thought if this stranger was large in more methods than one. Another nibble, I was no longer wondering, shamed as I am to say, but I was hoping. If I had hoped to dredge up some form of fight, I was lost at the sound of a moan, deep and guttural, saturated with need.
I was lost, Explicitly so. The strangers fingers trailed again, his weight lifting ever slightly, a hand snaking below it, pausing for a second, and I knew exactly why. It was surprise, surprise I neglect to sleep with panties, with even shorts.
The weight lifted, the mattress no longer depressed. Where I should have been hopeful, relieved that this stranger had changed his mind, God help me. God help me I moaned. Whined. Loudly.
I shouldn’t have fucking moaned. The sound of belt and pant hitting the floor. A grip no longer gentle on my leg, pulling me hard and fast to the edge of the bed. Arms like steel spreading my legs wide and within seconds… fuck he was like I hoped. Those small wonderings as he peeled back the sheet, as he caressed me. I felt so stretched, so fucking full. Satisfied.
Am I a whore, for begging him to kiss me? For loving the way he shoved his tongue down my throat. Judge me as you will. I had never been fucked like this. I had felt so owned, I had definitely, certainly, absolutely never been this wet.
The terrifying way he bent me now, flipping me over, my knees now tucked, my head buried and my cunt vulnerable, I wanted it. I fucking wanted it. I wanted to beg him to rape me, to breed me, the pillow stifling my words and even if he could, my mind. Fuck, my twisted fucking mind. I didn’t want him to know how much I was loving it.
How could I take that pleasure from him, he wanted me, he took me. I would not make this less of a glorious prize for him. I was determined to be his victim. I would cry, squirm, I would struggle and beg and fight for him. I’d let him force me to watch him, wide open so he can see my pretty little brown
eyes saucer wide as he forced his cum as deep as he could. And oh my could he go deep.
The strokes were quickening, I could tell he was close. I begged him not to cum inside, eliciting moans that sent tingles down my spine. It took everything inside me not to fuck him back. He needed this. I was here to be bred by him, I understood. It felt too good not to find out.
I came when he bit my shoulder, desperately clamping onto me so hard I almost didn’t notice he was pumping his seed deep, filling, owning a thing that was never his to own. The sound of his endowed length pulling out, the sensation a flurry of… I couldn’t catch my breath.
I sat gasping, mumbling and whispering thank you’s as he silently dressed, the sound of the door closing behind him, and as I dazedly fell asleep, I dreamed he would rape me every night.
NSFW: yes
