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I’m starting to change. I can feel it. Last night, he smiled at me, and I felt so incredibly happy for a moment. When he’s happy, he’s less cruel. When he’s happy, he doesn’t make me do things I don’t want to do. Want. Heh. That’s a word that has a new meaning in my life now. Anything I’m willing to tolerate falls into my want category. What I don’t want are the things that leave me crying, in pain, or humiliated.
I’m happy for the nights when we can just have sex. Just about any position, it doesn’t matter. I’ll happily take his cock. Happily. I’m happy. I want it. I want his cock. His cock makes me happy. That’s my reality now. To think, it has only been a month. A month ago, I couldn’t have been more disgusted by his touch. A month ago, I had never experienced any of this. A month ago, I was a virgin.
It all started there, with me handcuffed to a bed, and him, a man who had successfully broken into my dorm room and was holding me against my will. I was completely naked and completely defenseless. There was nothing I could do but let him have his way with me. As I lied on the bed, I remembered him licking my body. He bit, always too hard. He liked to cause me a bit of pain. I didn’t cry out, though. I felt like if I cried out, I somehow failed.
I tried to remember all the warnings I had heard. The posters all over the university were filled with warnings. Most of the time, they just said be careful, be on the lookout, and to men, don’t do it. This guy must not have seen that poster. None of them told you what to do when you were already there. Seemingly, once you got to this point, it was already too far, and from now on all you could do was survive.
That’s why they called them rape survivors, right? You can’t fight back. You just have to bear it until it was over. I had no clue what to do. I could only close my eyes and hope that everything ended quickly. Of course, I was only naïve. My reactions were what he wanted out of me. How could he allow me to shut down at that point?
I could feel the stubble on his cheeks. He hadn’t shaved recently. As he was kissing my cheeks, I tightened my eyes closed, unwilling to see the face of the man in the hood. What if he really was that guy from high school? What if he was someone else? I didn’t know if the truth would increase or decrease my fear. Therefore, I hid from it. I thought it would be better, not knowing.
People always blame the victim for not taking notes. Did you get hit by a car? Why didn’t you get the license plate? Were you raped? You should know your attacker intimately! Who in that situation would actually have a cool mind? Who in that situation would actually want to know their attacker? It’s too sudden, and it is too surprising. The best a woman can hope for is to pray it ends quickly. Unfortunately for me, my captor planned to take his sweet time.
Remember the feel of cold steel against my body. I could do nothing but lie there as he played with my body little by little. With my eyes closed, my mind unwillingly focused on the physical feelings. I had hoped I’d have been numb and not felt anything. Perhaps I should have drunk alcohol first or took a fist full of drugs. If I could have done it again, I would have been so drugged that night that I would have felt nothing, because, in the end, I felt everything.
I could feel his lips on my neck, and then my breasts. His coarse fingers pinched and pulled them. I didn’t feel any pleasure, but once in awhile, I’d let out a cry of pain. I don’t think he could tell the difference because he would redouble his efforts every time I made a noise. That only caused me to try my hardest to not make any noises. Rather than scream and cry for help, I acted as submissive as he wanted me to be. To this day, I still don’t know if that was the right decision or the wrong one.
He sucked on my nipples hard, and despite myself, I could feel the heat rising in my body. His fingers slipped between my legs. I tried to keep them closed but somehow managed to get them apart and sliding a finger inside me. As soon as he passed my underwear and was inside, I felt every sense of purity leave me. It was that point that I had completely given up on my innocence.
“You’re so wet.” I heard his voice mutter somewhere around my chest. “You like this.”
“That’s not true.” Despite myself, I denied it.
If I remained silent, he would have chosen whatever answer served him, so I felt compelled to speak back. Yet, rather than be turned off by my words, it only seemed to encourage him more. With my eyes still closed and my hands over my head, he continued to suck my breasts while a second finger slipped inside me.
The most I had ever used when I had touched myself were two fingers, and my fingers were a bit smaller than his, so this feeling already caused me to gasp. Furthermore, as sensitive as I was, I could feel them all too keenly. When it’s yourself, there is a sense of self that makes the fingers comfortable. I think they call it proprioception. Either way, when it’s someone else’s fingers, a foreign object inside you, it’s completely different. Your body screams that it’s not supposed to be there. This feeling is both more erotic and more terrifying, and it was the feeling shooting through my body at that moment.
I pulled on my restraints, wanting to cover myself up with my hands, but that was naturally impossible at this point. I was completely exposed and stuck to the whims of this stalker. I realized he had finally pulled his fingers out, and I let out a breath of relief. However, that relief lasted shortly as I realized his scratchy chin was heading south.
“Don’t, not there!” I bit my lip as soon as I said the words, knowing that he was going to do it more because I said not to.
As if to confirm my fears, I felt his nose press right against my sweet spot, and then there was a long-drawn breath. Air ran across my crotch as he sniffed it lewdly. The exact disgusted me and made me feel dirty all over. It made my entire body turn red from embarrassment, and for the briefest moment, my eyes opened to see the hair of the top of his head down between my legs.
He suddenly kissed my clit and then bit it with his teeth. The act caused me to cry out, but it wasn’t something I could help. He then began to play using his tongue, licking and sucking me. My body shook wildly, and feelings I had never had before were erupting between my legs. I found myself getting hornier to the point that I just wanted him to fuck me already. Without realizing it, my hips started moving, trying to push against his tongue. Of course, how could the meaning of these actions be lost on him?
“My…my… you’re getting really excited.”
“S-stop…” I begged. “Just let me go.”
“Haha… that’s not the way it works. This isn’t over until it’s over. Do you know how this ends?”
I bit my lip angrily but still forced myself to answer. “You… inside.”
“Is that what you want?” He asked, his voice sounding innocent you wouldn’t think he was in this room, raping me.
I felt so much anger and embarrassment, but I knew deep down that this torment wouldn’t end until he got what he wanted.
“Just do it!” I said, gritting my teeth.
“Hmm? Do what?”
“Stick it in!” I demanded.
“Ah… not if you ask that way. You got to ask nightly. Say it all.”
“You…”
“I won’t until you ask.” He said, and then lightly tongued my clit as if to punctuate that point.
“Please, I… I want you inside me.” I heard the words come out of my own mouth, but at this point, I no longer felt like it was my body.
When you’re close to death, some people say you lose your sense of self, that proprioception I was talking about. You feel like you’re hovering over your body and watching things happen from a third-party point of view.
I must have died a little at this point, because as he climbed on top of me, even though I could feel his body on top of me, I was watching the whole thing from above my bed. I knew that was impossible, but as I lost my virginity, I was already gone.
From this position, I could only see the back of his head. I saw him on top of me. I saw as he spread my legs. I then felt the pressure and sting as he pushed into me. I could see my own face. My eyes were shut tight, my mouth was slightly open, and I was panting from exertion. My face was red and sweat was running down my brow. It wasn’t a sexy look in my mind, but it didn’t discourage the man on top.
I watched as he thrust into me. He was wearing jeans which were unbuckled, He hadn’t even taken his pants off to rip away my innocence. I could see his flat ass as he thrust into me over and over again. The shitty college mattress shook each time he thrust inside. It was a violent motion. A first, it burned deep inside. Each thrust felt like the plunge of a dagger. Although my eyes were clenched in pain, I didn’t let out a single noise.
As for the man, he had grown serious too, and hadn’t whispered anything to tease me as he claimed my body, taking something that I had saved until marriage and my boyfriend. He began to speed up, stabbing me faster and faster, and the pain that was sharp with each thrust faded and instead I felt a dull, numb pain. It was a distant ache in my crotch.
I felt hot and dizzy, I wanted to throw up, to cry, and to die. Meanwhile, he moved faster and faster, his dick hips pumping aggressively into me in continuous rotating movements. If I hadn’t been watching myself from the third person, I wouldn’t have even noticed, but my spread legs had raised up, and were now wrap around his hips. I was clinging to him, holding on as he fucked me.
The pain on my face subsided, and in its place was pleasure. I could see pleasure growing on my face. I was breathing hard now, and every once in a while, I let out a soft moan. None of this was intentional. My body was acting on its own. As for me, I was watching it impartially from above.
At that moment, I began to think I really was a slut. Look at me? I was getting fucked by a strange man, and I was even helping him. I was holding him and moaning, and there was pleasure on my face. It made me even sicker, and eventually I just felt impossible tired.
The feeling of being outside my body subsided, and I could feel his hot breath on my face as he kept going. He was breathing really hard now, and hot waves of cinnamon breath washed over me. It smelled like Big Red, which is what I assumed he must have chewed before coming here. This bastard had raped me, but he was worried about his breath at a time like that.
His dick left suddenly. I was confused as the object that was inside me left. Not just his dick, but he pulled away from my legs too. I was confused for a bit, leaving myself in the same position I was when he pulled away. My legs were open and partially wrapped around air. I’m so glad I could no longer see myself, because I would have looked like a fool or a whore. Legs spread, a gaping bloody hole were my pussy had been torn, but still spread as if I was waiting for more dick.
I heard his panting coming from the side, It wasn’t until a wet, hot thing hit my check I realized he was next to me.
“Open up!” He said.
I barely opened my blurry eyes just in time to see a small pink cock being rubbed by a hand. It then shot white stuff right at me. My eyes closed as some hit my eye. It stung! I felt more stuff shoot over my face. One stream, two streams, three. He didn’t cum inside me, but instead came on my face. It was only when I felt it turning cold and dripping down my neck and eyes that finally closed my legs, realizing we were done.
I hadn’t orgasmed. How could I? I thought I would never orgasm to some creep like this. How naïve I was at the time.
I couldn’t remember much else. In my addled mind, I felt like since he had gotten what he wanted, I could close my eyes and pretend to sleep, and that he’d just leave. It turned out I was right. Unfortunately, the fear, exhaustion, and the late night meant that I really did go to sleep. Still chained to the bed, butt naked, and covered in a stranger’s cum, I passed out unconscious.
I awoke some time later. I prayed it was all a dream, but when I tried to move my arms, they were still restrained. The light in the room was out, and my door was shut. I had to look around a few times, but I eventually realized that I was alone. My face felt cold and sticky. The cum had dried on my skin, at least some of it, and the rest was still dripping down my face.
It was that point I felt some between my breasts as I tried to move. It was a cold, metallic feel. I looked down to see two things. The first was a key that looked like it would work on the handcuffs. The second was a spoon. I didn’t understand what it meant. It took me nearly fifteen minutes to get the key from my chest to my hands where I unlocked my handcuffs. I had very nearly lost them and been stuck in that position for god knows how long.
When I finally got it off, I threw on a robe and ran to the bathroom. After vomiting for another hour, I washed the cum off my face and out of my hair. I probably should have kept something as DNA evidence, but I didn’t think that way at the time. I took a shower instead, and I cried the whole time. I scrubbed myself, but I still didn’t feel clean. Down below, I could feel it missing. There was something tangible that was no longer there for me. I had lost my virginity, and it felt like a hole in my gut.
It was only then, when I was back in my room with the lights on, wiping away my own tears, that I noticed the spoon again. I picked it up one more time by the handle, and then I gasped and dropped it. I finally realized what it was. The handle was the same one I had seen the guy slide up his sleeve. That meant that the metal pressed against my neck had been this very spoon.
He had been pushing it against my neck pretty hard, and I had no clue what a knife would feel like, so I didn’t question the fact I wasn’t being cut. The reason for that was that I hadn’t been raped while threatened with a knife at all. I had given myself to a stranger because of a spoon. I felt a whole new wave of tears. I wanted to not think about it, so I went to my computer.
That was when I saw a file with my name on it mysteriously on my desktop. I opened the folder to see exactly what I feared I’d see. There were more pictures of me. A picture of me with a dick inside me. A picture of me with cum on my face. More evidence this bastard could use. There was also a notepad document with my name on it. I clicked it open. It had text on it.
“I look forward to next time.”
Deep in my heart, I told myself this would never happen again. I was wrong. So very wrong. My story only gets worse form here, and there is no happy ending. Remembering it hurts right now. I’m going to go early today. I need time to prepare myself for him tonight. He says he has prepared a special surprise. I feel afraid, but I’m also a little excited. Is that weird?