Gender: Male Age: Secret Location: N/A
|Introduction: Faith's housemate was tired of her judgemental attitude, so she has a friend rape her to teach her that she can be just as much of a slut.|
For the most part, Danielle was a pretty good housemate. She didn’t leave messes, or steal food, and she always paid her share of the bills on time. We typically got along and considered each other friends. Things weren’t perfect, but they were good. Issues arose from time to time due to our personality differences, but it was never anything serious.
Danielle was very much an alpha female. She seemed almost incapable of experiencing fear or insecurity; she would take what she wanted and do as she pleased. I’m sure a lot of people thought of her as a raging bitch, but I didn’t. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about other people; it was just that she refused to put her needs beneath their needs. I admired that. I secretly wished that I could be more like her.
I’m not Danielle’s opposite, but I often felt like it. I’m no doormat, but I could never be as bold as she was. I think in many ways living with her intensified those feelings – I was constantly seeing how I wanted to be but never could. I couldn’t fault Danielle for it, of course – she was just being herself. Still, it often made me feel like a child by comparison.
Danielle had a habit of using those insecurities to her advantage. When she needed someone to tag along with her to any social event, she was always quick to make me feel as though I had to go with her in order to be taken seriously as a grown-up. I don’t think there was any malice in her actions; I think she honestly thought that she was doing me a favor by forcing me to be more social.
That Friday night was fairly typical of our relationship. I had wanted to stay in and just hang out around the house, but Danielle had other plans. She had met some guy online and was planning on meeting him at a local bar, but didn’t want to go alone. I resisted a bit, but as usual she made me feel as though it was inappropriate for a single woman of my age to sit around playing video games on a Friday night. Realizing that arguing with her was futile I tossed on a jacket and accepted my fate.
I knew what was going to happen from experience. We’d meet the guy – usually some conceited douchebag who was as hot as he was stupid. We’d spend an hour or two in the bar while Danielle ignored me and pretended she was every bit as air-headed as he was, feigning interest in his boring-ass stories about the life of a male model. Once she was satisfied that he wasn’t some serial killer we’d all head back to the house. She’d take him into her bedroom, I’d toss on the headphones and log in to vent. Ignoring the loud sex noises I’d do my best to convince myself that I was happy with my choices – sure, mind-blowing sex might be fun, but we had raid progression. That’s just as good, right?
Entering the bar, we took a seat at a booth. We were a bit early, but that was probably by design. Danielle liked to get comfortable before her date arrived; she said that it was always a good idea to be more on balance than he was. Danielle tended to view dating as a form of combat, and she always wanted to have the advantage.
"Try to cheer up, Faith," she encouraged. "I promise you, Azeroth will be safe for a couple of hours without you."
"This just isn’t my thing," I explained. "I don’t like bars."
"I know you don’t," she sympathized. "But you’re here anyway, so try to make the most of it? Who knows, you might meet a cute guy – and god knows that you could use that. Honestly, Faith, I’m worried about you. It’s been way too long; we need someone to knock those cobwebs out of your coochie."
I feigned polite laughter, but her comment bothered me. It had been a while, but it hadn’t been that long. Just because I wasn’t running my own sperm bank between my legs like her didn’t mean that there was something wrong with me.
I thought about reminding her that my sex life was not her concern, but it was too late. Her date had arrived, and she had waved him over. For the rest of the evening, I could expect him to receive the entirety of her attention; if I wanted to have a conversation with her it would need to wait until tomorrow. With a heavy sigh, I watched him approach.
Trevor wasn’t exactly what I expected, but he wasn’t far off. He was big – though he may have in actuality been only six feet tall or so, his large frame made him appear far more imposing. His features were extremely rugged; his pronounced cheekbones giving his face an almost militant appearance. Though his clothing was clean and well-matched, it wasn’t the designer labels that I had grown accustomed to seeing on Danielle’s partners. Most of the men Danielle associated with looked like underwear models, Trevor looked more like a particularly handsome bouncer. It didn’t really matter, though – I fully expected to never see him again after the next morning.
After making quick introductions, Danielle went off to grab us some drinks. This was pretty much standard for her – she liked to give me a chance to get to know her partner and check for any red flags. I personally hated it. It was awkward, and even if I spotted something that she should be concerned about it wouldn’t make a difference. If I managed to grab her attention long enough to tell her, she’d simply wave off my concerns as being overly paranoid.
"So," he began, "I don’t mean to be rude here, but you look like someone just someone just slaughtered your puppy. Why the long face?"
"Look," I sighed. "Here’s the deal: I’m really just here so that if you turn out to be an axe-murderer, Danielle has someone who can describe you to the police. You’ll have to deal with my presence for a little while, then Danielle will take you home and fuck your brains out. We might see each other tomorrow morning, we might not; but we’ll almost certainly never meet again after that. I guess what I’m saying is that we don’t have to be friends, so let’s just sit here in awkward silence?"
"Sounds dull," he commented. "Besides, you don’t know that I’m not 'the one'. What makes you so sure that you won’t someday be acting as the maid of honor for Danielle and my wedding?"
"Personal experience," I explained. "I hate to break it to you, but you’re not exactly her first. I really hope that you’re not looking at her as a potential wife, because in her eyes you’re nothing more than a notch in the bedpost. I’m not saying that she’s a slut, but that’s really just because she’s my friend."
"That’s rather judgmental," he observed. "Faith, let me ask you something: Why is it that if a woman has sex with a bunch of men, she’s labeled a slut; but if a man does the exact same thing he’s labeled a homosexual?"
I couldn’t help but laugh at his joke, mostly due to how unexpected it was. Most of the men that had been in his position would have responded to my statement with a blank stare and an idiotic grin, having learned that they’d probably be having sex tonight. It was actually a refreshing change to get a response that involved polysyllabic words. Still, it didn’t make sense to get too attached – even if his IQ was above room temperature he was one of Danielle’s men. Once she was done with him she’d toss him away like all the rest, and I’d never see him again.
Danielle returned with our drinks and took a seat. I was actually a little sad to see her return; Trevor didn’t seem quite as vapid as her usual conquests and I was curious to see how he would fare in a conversation. I knew the ritual, though: I would now sit silently and watch as Danielle embarrassed our gender by making herself appear like an easily impressed five year old. Once she was certain that Trevor couldn’t possibly feel intellectually intimidated by her she’d take him home, and that would be the end of my role in this.
To my surprise, though, the conversation was not about popular culture, fashion trends, and the usual meaningless garbage that Danielle’s men usually seemed interested in. Trevor actually had a deep side, when he discussed current events they didn’t involve MTV or what some random celebrity said to another random celebrity. It turned out that Trevor was actually a fairly interesting person; complete with his own set of unique beliefs. I found myself secretly hoping that he wouldn’t be just another one night stand for Danielle; I honestly was enjoying his company.
None of this changed Danielle’s role, of course. If anything, it made it easier for her. When she giggled like a schoolgirl and asked him to explain various concepts that came up in conversation she didn’t need to pretend that she didn’t already know. As the night progressed, I found myself feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the whole situation.
It wasn’t that I was jealous. Trevor may have been hot, but he also intimidated the hell out of me. I didn’t think he was a serial killer or anything, but something about his intensity just scared me. He seemed a lot like Daniele – someone who would take as he pleased without the slightest concern for anyone who stood in the way. That kind of personality combined with his intelligence and easily weaponizable body just seemed dangerous.
I wanted to say something to Danielle, but it was pointless. She’d just shrug off any concerns that I had, and I’d look like an asshole. Besides, time was on my side. All I had to do was wait long enough for her to fuck him, and then he’d be gone. Instead, I just drank more and waited
After a couple more drinks, the time came. Danielle had determined that Trevor, much like virtually every man who had come before him, had earned the right to dump sperm in her. Leaving the bar with them I was eager to get home so that I could finally extract myself from the situation and pretend I had no idea what was going on. I wasn’t looking forward to ignoring her passionate cries, but at least I wouldn’t have to be in the same room with them anymore.
Arriving home, Danielle excused herself. This was also normal. I don’t know exactly what she did at times like this, but generally there’d be about 10 minutes between when we all arrived home and when she’d call her partner to her bedroom. Usually I’d spend those ten minutes awkwardly pretending that her human sex toy wasn’t standing around our living room, comforting myself with the fact that he’d be out of my hair soon enough. This generally worked well – her partners were usually quite willing to ignore my existence while I ignored theirs.
"You look like you have something to say," he observed.
"Trevor, you can stop now," I sighed, taking a seat on our couch. "Look, in a couple minutes she’s going to call you into her bedroom, and then you two can use each other’s bodies to your hearts’ content. I couldn’t cock block you at this point even if I wanted to. You don’t need to make conversation with me, you’re already in."
"I don’t need to do anything," he corrected, taking a seat right next to me. "However, we’ve got some time to kill, and I choose to kill it by talking to you."
"I’m ever so grateful for your generosity," I laughed, trying to mask my sincerity with sarcasm. The truth was that I did kind of want to have a conversation with him, but it didn’t seem worth it. He’d be gone soon, anyway.
"You don’t exactly approve of all of this, do you?" he asked.
"It’s not really my place to approve," I replied. "You’re both consenting adults, you both seem to understand what’s going on; it really doesn’t matter what I think."
"You’re dodging the question," he shot back. "It might not matter whether or not you approve, but I’m curious just the same. Do you have some kind of problem with Danielle and I using each other for sex?"
"Honestly?" I answered. "I think the whole thing is just stupid. I know for sure that Danielle isn’t who she’s pretending to be – in real life she’s not some giggling bimbo moron. I’m guessing that you’re pretending to be someone else, too, but it doesn’t really matter. Just seems like a lot of bullshit effort when the only thing that either of you really care about is getting in each other’s pants."
"So you object to the effort?" he clarified. "How would you prefer it? Should I have simply bent her over the table in the bar and had my way with her?"
Something about his tone sent chills down my spine. I knew he probably meant it as a hyperbolic joke, but I could see him doing just what he said. I could vividly picture it in my mind. He’d walk in, grab Danielle by the arm, toss her over the table, and use her body as he pleased. God knows he had the body for it – he could probably restrain her with just a single arm, and he seemed to have the personality type that wouldn’t feel the slightest bit of shame in doing something like that. Strangely, what bothered me most about the image was that it was Danielle – not me.
"I didn’t say that!" I argued, trying to regain my mental balance. "I guess I just think that sex should be something that involves more intimacy. Maybe I’m just not as cool as you and Danielle, but I just don’t feel the need to sleep with guys whose last name I don’t know."
"I’m guessing it’s been a long time since you’ve known anyone’s last name," he laughed.
"This isn’t about me," I growled.
"I disagree," he shot back. "I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what it’s about. You see the attention that Danielle’s getting, and you’re jealous."
"Jealous?" I laughed, doing my best to sound incredulous. "Please. You might be mildly attractive in a potential felon kind of way, but I don’t want you."
"I didn’t say of me, specifically," he clarified. "Though, it’s nice to know that you find me attractive. I think you’re jealous of Danielle’s situation – she’s getting all the sex she wants, and you’re getting nothing. Tell me, Faith, how long has it been?"
"That’s none of your fucking business!" I shouted at him. He was hitting entirely too close to home.
"That’s a rather unique way to say 'too long'," he laughed, showing no signs of being intimidated by my volume. "Admit it, Faith. You wish you got just a fraction of the action that Danielle does."
"Fine, it’s been a little longer than I would prefer," I admitted. I didn’t much care for his tone, but I was feeling a little tipsy from the drinking, and it was the truth. "That doesn’t mean that I’m hoping to bang a different stranger every night of the week. There’s a comfortable middle ground."
"And you’re nowhere near that middle ground," he interrupted, "which is unfortunate. There’s really no reason you couldn’t be, Faith – you’re not unattractive, despite what your manner of dress implies."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I demanded. "There’s nothing wrong with how I dress."
"No, there’s nothing wrong with it," he agreed, "if your goal is to prevent people from determining your true gender. Honestly, you could have the most amazing tits in the world, but no one would know about them under that baggy shirt. Are you really so afraid that someone might find you attractive that you feel compelled to hide your body so completely?"
"Just because I don’t feel like being mistaken for a whore doesn’t mean that I’m afraid of anything!" I hissed.
"Then what is it, Faith?" he laughed. "Are your tits so monstrous that they must be hidden from sight at all costs? I highly doubt that’s the case, but let’s find out for sure. Lose the top."
"You can stop right there, cock bag," I growled. I’m not normally so confrontational, but the alcohol had given me courage. "I don’t know what you think is going on here, but I am not Danielle’s warm-up act. If you think that I’m going to show you my tits just because…"
Trevor quickly silenced me with a slap to the face. Though it didn’t hurt all too much, it effectively derailed my entire train of thought. I knew that he could have hit me much harder, but I couldn’t believe that he would do something so inappropriate. My mind reeling, I simply stared at him with my mouth agape. Looking into his eyes I saw no remorse or shame in what he had done. He looked like a hungry predator that had just spotted easy prey.
"I’d apologize for that," he explained in an inappropriately casual tone, "but to be completely honest with you, little girl, I’m not sorry in the slightest. In fact, not only do I feel absolutely no regret over hitting you, I’m fully prepared to hit you again. I might even enjoy it."
I had no reason to doubt his words. His body language left no ambiguity, even sitting down he managed to tower over me menacingly. I wanted to run, but I was paralyzed with fear.
"I’m not really in the habit of having to ask twice," he continued, "and I don’t much care for being denied. I assure you that I’m fully capable of hitting you harder than that – believe me, little girl, I can make it hurt. If you’d like to find out for sure, feel free to make me ask a third time – I promise I won’t feel bad about how I respond. However, if you’d like to leave it up to your imagination, you’d do well to lose the fucking top already."
I didn’t want to find out how hard he could hit. Up close, I could really see how massive Trevor was – hell, his palm was probably bigger than my head. I had no doubt that he could make it hurt, and I didn’t want to find out exactly how much pain he could deliver. Without options, I pulled the top over my head, hoping to avoid any further violence. I figured that Danielle would stick her head out any moment, and this would all be over then.
Sitting there in my bra I felt tremendously self-conscious. I don’t think I’m generally described as "ugly", but I have my share of body acceptance issues. It wasn’t really that, though, as much as the feeling of vulnerability. I was half-naked, Trevor was still fully dressed. He didn’t leer at my tits, but in a way that was almost worse – his lack of a reaction was almost offensive.
"Danielle isn’t going to like this," I reminded him. "She might be into some kinky shit, but I don’t think she lists 'sexually assaulting roommates' as a turn-on."
"You don’t have the slightest clue what Danielle is in to," he laughed, "and frankly, it doesn’t matter. I’ll let you in on a secret, Faith. Danielle may be an excruciatingly hot piece of ass, but she’s hardly the only one. Even if I was sabotaging my chances with her here, why would I care? I’ve invested practically nothing into getting into her pants; I can invest just as little with some other slut and achieve the same success."
"So pick some other slut!" I cried. "Just leave me the fuck out of this!"
"What makes you so sure I haven’t picked another slut?" he laughed. "Incidentally, it’s rarely a good idea to tell me what to do. I’ll let that one slide, as you didn’t know any better, but I’d strongly suggest you not make that mistake again. Speaking of things that you seem to want me to let slide, you seem to still be wearing a bra. Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t I tell you to remove your top?"
I thought about arguing that "top" doesn’t necessarily include "bra", but Trevor didn’t seem interested in a debate over semantics. His body language implied that he was equally disinterested in waiting, as well. With no other options, I reluctantly stripped out of my bra. Feeling intensely mortified and vulnerable, I folded my arms tightly across my chest to conceal my nudity.
"That wasn’t so hard, now was it?" he chided. "And hey, it turns out that you have nothing to be ashamed of. You have lovely tits, Faith. Why do you insist on hiding them?"
"Because I’m not a slut!" I cried. "I’m not like Danielle; I don’t run around fucking every guy that I see!"
"Is that what you think of me?" came Danielle’s voice from the doorway.
"Danielle!" I cried, embarrassed that she had heard what I said but relieved that she was there. "I didn’t mean it like that, but you have to help me! He’s trying to rape me!"
"Trevor!" Danielle exclaimed, doing her best to sound shocked. "You’re not really trying to rape my friend here, are you?"
"Of course not!" Trevor laughed. "Well, maybe just a little. You don’t mind, do you?"
"Well," Danielle sighed, "as long as you promise that it’s just a little I guess that it’s okay."
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" I screamed. I knew Danielle could be a bit permissive when it came to sex, but this was crossing the line.
"Me?" she asked. "There’s nothing wrong with me, Faith. I’m doing fine. You, on the other hand, seem to have a problem. I don’t know if you’re auditioning for a nunnery or something, but I’ve got some bad news: virginity doesn’t grow back. It’s like I told you, we need to knock those cobwebs out."
"Okay," I tried to reason, "maybe it has been a long time, but that’s not your concern!"
"It wouldn’t be," she explained, "except you seem to try your hardest to make it my concern. Faith, it’s no secret that you don’t approve of my sex life, and don’t think for one second that I don’t notice when you try to sabotage me. Really, this is your fault. You’ve left me with only two options – I can either stop having sex whenever I want so that you don’t think that I’m a slut, or I can get you having sex so that you can’t judge me. I really don’t feel like changing the way I live just to make you happy, so I’m choosing the fun option. Be grateful for that."
"But he could hurt me!" I argued.
"Trevor," she sighed, trying to sound stern. "You’re not going to hurt Faith, are you?"
"If she doesn’t cooperate?" he clarified. "Absolutely."
"Well, Faith," she laughed, "It sounds like you should probably cooperate. Anyway, I’m going to take a quick shower and give you two some privacy. Play nice while I’m gone!"
With that said, Danielle was gone. Again alone with Trevor, I lost all hope. Danielle wasn’t going to save me – hell, it sounded like this was all her idea. I couldn’t run; Trevor would have no difficulty catching me. I could scream for help, but it wouldn’t do anything – our nearest neighbor was at least a thousand feet away and would be unlikely to hear. I had no escape, Trevor held all the power.
"If it helps," he pointed out, "she does want you to enjoy this. She asked me to fuck your brains out, not beat them out. She doesn’t want you getting hurt, she wants you getting off."
"That doesn’t help at all," I whimpered. "And it’s not going to happen. There’s no way I’ll enjoy this, I absolutely refuse to."
"That’s unfortunate," he sighed, "and strategically unwise. I’m going to fuck you whether you appreciate what Danielle is doing for you or not. Try to relax and you might enjoy it. Fight it, and, well to be honest I don’t really care – I’ll be having fun either way."
"I bet you will, you sick fuck," I hissed.
Trevor shot me a grin while reaching over towards me. I shied away from him, but he was too quick – he easily caught me and wrapped his hand around my wrist. As he effortlessly pulled my arm back towards him I reacted by doing my best to cover both of my breasts with my one free arm; thinking that his goal was to further expose my nudity.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t what he had in mind. Trevor continued to pull on my arm until by entire body fell towards him. Pressing his left hand onto my bare back he forced me over his lap, then twisted my arm behind my back and pinned it down. I kicked wildly into the air, but connected with nothing.
Unable to kick him, I pressed my chest into the couch to cover my breasts and used my free arm to try to strike him. My angle was extremely poor for that, though – I simply flailed helplessly into the air for a few seconds before he grabbed that arm as well. Pinning it to my back with my right arm, he used a single hand to hold them both in place as I struggled with my torso for freedom.
Trevor said nothing as I violently shook my body back and forth in an attempt to escape. He didn’t attack me, or try to force me to remain still, he simple held me in position until I ran out of steam. I lasted for about a minute before I realized that any attempt at escape was completely futile. Exhausted, I collapsed in his lap, breathing heavily.
"You’re not giving up already, are you?" he laughed. "Come on, little girl, let all your anger out. It’s okay, I promise."
"Fuck you," I hissed, enraged by his dismissive attitude but powerless to do anything about it.
"Rude comments like that are why you’re in this position in the first place," he explained. "You should probably watch your disrespectful tone if you’re hoping to be released any time soon."
I wanted to tell him that he could go fuck himself, but I realized that probably wouldn’t go over well. I needed him to release me, and it was clear that I couldn’t force him to. My only chance was to convince him to release me voluntarily, and that would require playing along with his bullshit.
"Okay," I growled, doing my best to repress my rage. "I’m sorry that I made rude comments. Can you please release me now?"
"Of course not," he laughed in a way that made me feel like I was stupid to even ask. "If I release you without punishing you, how would you learn not to do it again?"
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I demanded, losing my cool. "I’m not some little girl that you get to punish whenever you feel like. Let me the fuck go, asshole!"
"I disagree," he shrugged. "I think that you very much are some little girl that I can do whatever I please with. If I’m wrong about that, please prove me wrong and free yourself. If that’s not possible, though, I suggest you ask me to punish you. I think a quick spanking would be appropriate in this situation."
"You must be fucking joking," I hissed. "There’s no way that I’m going to ask you to spank me."
"I’m pretty sure there is," he explained. "But hey, I’m okay with being proven wrong. I’ll make a deal with you, though – ask for it nicely, and I’ll let you keep your pants up for the spanking. Continue to act like a spoiled little bitch, and they’re coming down – along with your panties."
I wanted to tell him that he was full of shit, but I held my tongue. He had already forced me to remove my top; I had no doubt that he’d be willing to strip me out of my pants as well. Filled with rage I considered trying to struggle again, but I knew it was hopeless. The only way out would be to accept his spanking.
"Please spank me," I spat, hating myself for giving in to him. "And then let me the fuck go."
I braced myself for the impact, but it didn’t come. Instead, Trevor leaned down, positioning his face near the back of my head. I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck; I could make out his shoulder from the corner of my eye. Terrified, I buried my face in the couch.
"Exactly which part of 'ask for it nicely' do you not understand?" he asked. "I’m going to be generous and pretend that I didn’t hear the abortion that just escaped from your lips, but a word of warning – I’m not going to cut such slack again. Fuck it up in any way and I’ll strip you naked and spank you until your ass is bright red."
My anger was quickly dissipating. It wasn’t that I forgave him for his outrageous behavior, though – there just wasn’t any room for anger when I was so filled with fear. The proximity of his face to mine, the feel of his breath on me, and the predatory tone he took made me feel completely helpless and completely trapped – I could no longer pretend that I wasn’t entirely at his mercy.
"I’m sorry," I whimpered. "I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. Please give me a spanking?"
Trevor let out a sigh, as if considering whether or not to accept my request. I panicked a little inside, wondering if I should have groveled more. I was considering appending my plea when I felt his hand come down on my ass. It wasn’t what I would consider a spanking so much as just a gentle swat – it didn’t hurt in the slightest, though was fairly undignified. I was happy that he hadn’t hurt me, glad that he wasn’t making me lose my pants, but mildly uncomfortable with the way he let his hand rest on my ass. Perhaps picking up on my discomfort and wanting to prove how little he cared, he squeezed my ass in his hand.
There was something incredibly disturbing about the way that he was grabbing my ass. It didn’t feel like he was copping a cheap feel, it felt like he was marking it as his property. More disturbing, though, was the fact that a part of me didn’t mind – on some level, I liked the idea of being marked as his. Uncomfortable thinking about that, I reminded myself that at least it was better than being spanked. Besides, it’s not like I had a choice in the matter.
Trevor crudely groped my ass for a few seconds before raising his hand up. Realizing that the moment had come, I clenched my jaw and braced for the impact. He let me linger in fear for a second or two before bringing his hand down hard.
I yelped in pain. I had expected it to hurt, but I don’t think I realized just how much it would. I was glad that he had permitted me to keep my pants up – I don’t think that I could have handled the pain had he made me remove them. As the pain dissipated, he began to stroke my hair in an almost tender manner.
"I don’t like hurting you," he claimed. "Well, I do enjoy it a little, but that’s not the point. The point is that I can make you feel very good, little girl – or I can make you hurt very bad. It’s actually your choice, you know? Cooperate, and you might actually enjoy this. You do want to enjoy this, don’t you?"
His question was severely fucking with my mind. On the surface, it was just a way of forcing me to say that I wanted to enjoy it to avoid pain. I could handle that. It was a fucked up thing for him to do, but it wasn’t a big deal. What bothered me was that on a deeper level, it was true – I did want to enjoy it, but I really didn’t want to admit that.
"Yes," I admitted, trying to sound reluctant.
"Good girl," he praised, patting me on the head like a dog. "You’re learning, but I still don’t think you’ve been adequately punished for your rudeness earlier. Ask me to spank you again."
"Please don’t make me," I pleaded. "I know that I was rude, and I’m really, really sorry, but please don’t spank me again?"
Trevor let out another heavy sigh. I hoped that he was going to take pity on me, but I realized that wasn’t very likely. To my surprise, he released his grip on my wrists, allowing me to get up. Cautiously, I folded my arms over my breasts and climbed to my knees. I wasn’t sure what was going on – it didn’t seem like he would show me such mercy, yet I didn’t want to ask questions and provoke him.
"Lose the pants," he instructed, "and get back in position."
"Wait, please don’t do that," I begged, panicking at the thought of being spanked without the protection of my jeans. "I swear to god, I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t be rude, I won’t disobey, just give me a chance?"
"If you had actually learned your lesson," he stated coldly, "I doubt that we would be having this conversation. I told you to ask for another spanking, you declined. Had you done as you were told I’d have given you a spanking and let you go, your sin forgiven. Unfortunately, you decided that you knew better about how you should be punished, so now you’re going to take that spanking on your bare ass."
"I’m sorry?" I offered, hoping that a show of remorse might earn me some slack.
"I don’t want your empty apologies, bitch," he growled. "You have a choice, now. You can either do as you’ve been told – lose your pants and get your ass back over my knee, or you can continue to argue. Before you make that choice, try to think about what arguing has accomplished for you so far tonight."
I didn’t want to lose my pants, but I knew it would be a bad idea to further provoke him. Stripping out of my jeans I couldn’t help but think about how much it was going to hurt when his hand met my bare skin. I was terrified, but I was also confusingly turned on by the idea. With my pants off I stood before him in my panties alone, still trying to cover my breasts.
I knew that he probably wanted me completely naked, but the idea of losing my panties seemed like it was too much. Besides, he had only told me to lose my pants – I could always claim that I didn’t know any better. Not wanting to give him a chance to tell me to lose my panties as well, I quickly got back into position over his knee and hoped for the best.
Trevor brought his hand to my ass, crudely groping it again. Again, I felt as though he was claiming it as property, and again I found myself struggling to internally oppose the idea. In an attempt to distract myself, I tried to focus on how wonderful it was that he had permitted me to keep my panties on. This didn’t work out too well – a part of me secretly hoped that he would tear them off of me already.
"You whine too much," he observed. "From the sound of your cry earlier I would have thought that I had broken you in some way. There’s barely a mark where I struck you."
"I’m sorry?" I offered. "It just hurt so much – I don’t think I can take it if you hit me that hard again, especially without my pants."
"Poor little girl," he laughed. "If only you were as determined to have not fucked up in the first place as you are to escape punishment. Still, I’m not a monster – I’ll let you make your case. Explain to me why I shouldn’t finish punishing you."
"Because I’ve already learned my lesson!" I pleaded. "I won’t ever be rude to you again, please don’t spank me?"
"We’ve already covered that," he yawned. "I can appreciate that you feel that you’ve been punished enough, but you’re going to have to appreciate that I disagree. Now, in a situation like this where we disagree with each other, whom do you think is most likely right?"
"You are," I sighed in defeat.
"That’s a good girl," he praised. "So what should you ask for?"
"Please spank me," I whimpered.
Trevor stopped squeezing my ass and rose his hand up into the air. He paused for a second, allowing me time to tremble in fear, and then brought it back down on my ass hard. A sharp crack filled the air – without the denim to muffle the impact it was a lot noisier. Though my pants may not have seemed to provide a ton of protection the last time, the difference without them was noticeable. I felt like the skin on my ass was on fire where he had struck me. As the pain spread throughout me I began to softly cry.
"There, there, little girl," he mock comforted me. "I know it hurts, but it has to – you need to learn your place. Try to cheer up, though. Now that you’ve been punished, you’re forgiven. You should thank me for that, by the way."
"Thank you," I whimpered. It seemed inappropriate, but I didn’t want to give him an excuse to punish me again.
"Good girl," he replied, again patting me on the head. "Now, let’s get you out of those panties already."
"Wait, you can’t!" I cried.
"I should punish you for that," he laughed, "but I’m too entertained. I would think that by now you’d understand that I can do whatever I please, and that certainly includes stripping you naked. Still, I don’t want you to think I don’t care about your feelings, so I’ll let you make your case. Explain to me exactly why it is that I can’t."
"I’m sorry," I corrected myself. "I don’t mean that you can’t. I know you can, and I’m not arguing about that. What I meant to say is, please don’t take my panties?"
"You’re telling me nothing," he growled. "I already know that you don’t want to lose your panties, I’d like to know why you’re willing to risk another spanking in order to keep them on."
His mention of another spanking scared the hell out of me. I considered dropping it right there and removing my panties for him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was horrified at the idea of being naked; even though I was secretly beginning to realize that I wanted this I couldn’t manage to actually participate. Besides, he had asked me to explain why – refusing to explain myself could make him angry.
"I guess I just feel safer with them on?" I offered, hoping it would be enough.
"Safer?" he laughed. "How on Earth do your panties make you safer?"
"I don’t know," I cried. "I just feel like if I’m not wearing them, it would be easier to rape me."
Trevor let out a heavy sigh, sounding simultaneously amused and irritated. Without warning he slid his hand down the back of my panties, forcing his fingers between my legs. I tried to clench my thighs together to block him out, but it was no use – he was too strong for me. I could feel his fingers against my pussy, and I was mortified – there was no way that he could miss how wet I was. Ashamed by my body’s stubborn refusal to not be turned on by him, I began to sob.
"Cotton panties make shitty chastity belts," he explained. "Trust me, it would be easy enough to rape you without stripping you out of them first. That is, if it were possible to call this rape – with a cunt that wet I hardly think the term is appropriate."
Humiliated, I buried my face in the couch and continued sobbing. He didn’t seem to mind – without waiting for an invitation he curled his fingers and inserted two into me. To my disgust they slid right in with ease, generating a wet noise on the way. Unconsciously I felt myself relaxing my thighs and spreading them wider. I caught myself quickly and considered slamming them back together, but it seemed pointless – he was already in; all I’d be doing would be keeping him there.
"As amusing at it is to watch you cry into your couch," he began, "I’m a bit disappointed in you. You’ve been so quick to argue all night, and you’re just going to give up now? Shouldn’t you be explaining why your dripping snatch doesn’t mean anything?"
"I don’t want to talk about it," I whimpered into the couch.
"I’m not surprised," he stated. "I don’t think I’d want to talk about it either if I was in your position. Fortunately, what you want isn’t all too important here. You know, little girl, I’ve been with a lot of women and very few of them start soaking their panties the instant they get spanked. To be fair, though, most of them weren’t total sluts."
I hated that accusation. Though I was emotionally overwhelmed with feelings of fear, confusion, and desire, his choice of words was not acceptable. I was not a slut, regardless of what he thought, and I wasn’t about to stand for such a false and evil accusation.
"I am not a slut," I growled, doing my best to sound defiant.
"You can’t honestly believe that," he laughed as he began to pump his fingers in and out of me. "You’re bent over the knee of a man that you don’t know who just spanked your ass. You’re almost naked, despite the fact that I’m fully clothed. I’ve made it very clear that I’m planning to use you for sex and nothing more, and your cunt is positively drooling at the prospect of that. I’m fairly certain that 'slut' is the appropriate word, wouldn’t you agree?"
I wanted to argue but couldn’t find words with which to do so. I couldn’t pretend that I wasn’t as wet as he claimed – the sloshing sound that emanated from between my legs each time he pumped his fingers made it very clear that he was telling the truth. I couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t still very much a stranger. Unable to argue or accept that I was a slut, I simply pressed my face into the couch and tried to ignore it.
Trevor didn’t seem to like my hiding. Grabbing me by the hair he pulled my face up, then rolled me over so that I was lying on my back over him. Pressing his right arm against my collarbone to hold me down he resumed his assault on my cunt with his left as I struggled not to moan in pleasure openly. Again I unconsciously parted my legs to allow him access.
Trevor continued to finger fuck me for several more minutes. I didn’t resist – if anything, I allowed him access by keeping my legs open and raising my hips to give him a better angle. As he continued to use my body without the slightest regard for my consent I felt an orgasm building.
This was beyond strange. I had experienced orgasms before, but only through masturbation. While I hadn’t been with many men, none of them had managed to get me off. I had always assumed that this was because I was too nervous around them, though that hardly made sense in my current situation. Trevor made me more nervous than anyone I had ever met, an orgasm around him should have been outright impossible.
My cunt, however, didn’t seem to care if it should have been impossible. As Trevor continued to pump me with his fingers I realized that an orgasm wasn’t just possible, it was inevitable. I was horrified at the idea – it felt like if he made me cum, I really would be every bit the slut that he claimed that I was. More troubling, though, was the fact that a part of me liked that idea of being his slut very much. Still, I wasn’t completely defeated just yet – I summoned my willpower and did my best to put off the orgasm.
Trevor made me regret that decision. He continued to finger fuck me until I reached the point where I felt that I could no longer hold back, then immediately stopped and removed his hand from my panties. Being cut off that close to orgasm was painful; I groaned loudly while clenching my thighs together in a futile attempt to finish myself off. Trevor simply looked down at me, smiling at my suffering while holding his glistening fingers in my field of vision.
"Poor little girl," he laughed, "you look so tremendously unhappy. Why exactly is that?"
His question felt monstrously cruel. He must have known goddamned well why I was unhappy; making me tell him was just wrong. I was under more than enough stress without having to suffer the indignity of being forced to admit to my rapist that I wanted him to make me cum. Unfortunately, my cunt didn’t really care about my dignity; it wanted satisfaction regardless of the cost.
"Please finish," I begged, hating myself for giving in.
"Finish?" he laughed. "We’re just getting started, little girl – you didn’t honestly think that all of this was just a complicated scheme to work my fingers into that sloppy fuck hole between your legs, did you?"
"I meant please finish me off," I clarified, my face going bright red in shame.
"I’d be happy to," he replied. "But first, I’m going to need something from you. You claimed, for reasons that likely make sense only to yourself, that you are not a slut. I’d like you to correct yourself."
I couldn’t obey him. It made no sense, feigning chastity after begging a stranger to make me cum, but I just couldn’t let him claim that I was a slut. My cunt screamed at me, demanding an orgasm; but my lips just couldn’t debase myself the way he wanted me to.
"I can’t say that," I pleaded. "Please don’t make me? Please just let me cum?"
Trevor shot me a disapproving look, as if to demonstrate that he couldn’t believe that I would think my pleas would work. Bringing his left hand up to my face he held his fingers in front of my eyes, showing me how they gleamed in the light. As a smile crept over his face he forced his fingers into my mouth, bathing my tongue in the taste of my own sex.
I wish that I could say that I resisted, but I didn’t. Instead of fighting him, I eagerly sucked the juices from his fingers. A part of it was that I hoped that if I showed him that I was a slut then he wouldn’t force me to say it, but that wasn’t my only motivation. The truth was that I liked the idea of being used like that, in a disgusting and degrading manner.
Trevor seemed to enjoy my cooperation, but not enough to go easy on me. Still smiling, he began to pump his fingers in and out of my mouth; much like he had done earlier in my cunt. I gagged a little, but held my mouth open to permit his assault. It made me feel cheap and worthless, but strangely it did nothing to turn me off. As wet noises came forth from my mouth, Trevor only laughed.
After several seconds of violating my mouth, Trevor removed his fingers and moved his hand back towards my crotch. Hoping to encourage him to finish the job that he had started earlier, I spread my legs wide and raised my hips into the air. To my disappointment, though, he simply rested his hand on my inner thigh. As I squirmed about in an unconscious desire to finally cum, he looked down into my eyes.
"I think I’m going to fuck your mouth," he mused.
I wanted to demand that he make me cum first, but it seemed like a bad idea to make demands. Additionally, the truth was that I was still far too shy to even ask him for anything sexual. Hoping that he’d take pity on my situation I looked up at him, begging him with my eyes. Unfortunately, Trevor apparently wasn’t feeling merciful. Rather than reward my submission with an orgasm, he crudely pushed me off of his lap and onto the floor.
As I crawled back up to my hands and knees, Trevor unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. He was already hard, which was both comforting and terrifying. It was nice to know that he had enjoyed my sexual abuse as much as I had; in a way it made it feel a little less inappropriate. On the other hand, though, the intensity of his erection was extremely intimidating – his cock looked about as angry as I think a cock can look.
Intimidated and ashamed I simply knelt before him, my mouth agape. Trevor didn’t seem interested in giving me time to adjust, though. Reaching forward, he grabbed me by the hair and pulled me to him. Not wanting to piss him off I opened my mouth and accepted his cock.
With the tip in my mouth, Trevor moved his hand to the back of my head. Applying pressure he pushed my head down, forcing his cock deeper and deeper into my mouth. As it entered my throat I gagged and tried to jerk back violently. Trevor held my head in place for a couple seconds to demonstrate that he could before he released me. I came up for air, tears streaming down my face and saliva all around my mouth, but I did not attempt to run away.
"The effort’s there," he critiqued, "but the skill is lacking. If you’re going to be my slut, you’re going to need to learn to take a cock down your throat without disappointing me like that. You do want to be my slut, don’t you?"
"I do," I nodded. I told myself that I was only saying it because I had to, but I knew that I was speaking the truth.
"Good girl," he praised. "I don’t want you to worry, I’m fully willing to invest the effort I need to training you correctly. As long as I feel you’re trying to improve, you’ll have my patience. Should I feel that you’re slacking off, though, you will be punished. Before long, you’ll be getting fucked in all three holes like a pro."
His promise was terrifying. I wanted to explain to him that I don’t do anal, but he didn’t give me a chance. Grabbing me by the hair he again forced my head down on his cock, making any conversation impossible. I figured it didn’t really matter anyway – telling him that I don’t take it up the ass was unlikely to yield the results I desired.
Trevor again moved his hand to the back of my head and pushed down. As his cock went deeper into my mouth, I dreaded the point where I knew that I’d gag again. Fortunately, he didn’t go quite as far. Right when he got deep enough that I felt I couldn’t take it any more he relaxed his grip, allowing me to bring my head up. He stopped me before his cock came out of my mouth, though, and pushed me back down.
Repeating the process, Trevor forced me to take a little more of his cock with each thrust. I continued to gag each time he went deep, but it was manageable. Frustratingly, the abuse did nothing to quell my arousal. I needed to cum even more than I had before, but Trevor didn’t seem interested in helping.
Cautiously, I slid my hand into my panties. I was incredibly nervous that he would notice –I didn’t think he’d be angry about it, but I knew that he’d use it as evidence that I really was a slut. That nervousness quickly faded, though, as soon as my finger made contact with my clit. The lust I felt was intense, at that moment I didn’t care if he noticed – all I cared about was my own orgasm.
If Trevor noticed what I was doing, he didn’t seem to mind. His focus seemed to be purely on violating my mouth. His rough treatment was distracting, but not distracting enough to interfere with my quickly approaching orgasm. Emboldened by the fact that he didn’t seem to care or notice, I began to masturbate in earnest.
It didn’t take long. While Trevor fucked my throat I began to cum hard. At first I did my best to disguise it, not wanting him to notice. After a few seconds, though, I realized how pointless that was – there was no way that he could possibly be ignorant to what I was experiencing. Figuring that the damage was done, I gave myself license to cum openly; moaning even as his cock gagged me.
Trevor permitted me to finish my orgasm before he ran his fingers through my hair and gripped hard. Pulling up, he forced me off of his dick and held my head before him. As I looked at him nervously, he began to slowly shake his head; a look of disappointment on his face.
"Did you just cum, you little slut?" he demanded.
"Uhm, kind of?" I offered. I was embarrassed, but my embarrassment was shifting into worry. His tone of voice implied that I had done something wrong.
"I suppose I can cut you some slack just this one time," he sighed. "You didn’t know any better, after all. In the future, you will not cum without permission from me. Is that understood?"
His question freaked me out. The implication that there would be a next time was both terrifying and strangely desirable, as was the idea that I would have to ask permission. Still, I knew better than to argue, and instead simply nodded my head.
"Good girl," he praised. "And I’m glad you neglected to correct me when I referred to you as a slut. This will be much easier with you being able to accept your true nature."
I didn’t want to argue with him, but he was pushing me. I was not a slut, and I was getting tired of him claiming otherwise. I knew he’d probably make me regret it, but I just couldn’t hold my tongue.
"I am not a slut," I growled, looking him dead in the eyes.
I suspected that he’d punish me for it, but it had to be said. Unpredictably though, he seemed to be amused instead of angry. In a way, it was worse. Had he given me another spanking it would hurt, but I’d still be able to claim that I wasn’t a slut. By looking so entertained he implied that the very idea that I was a chaste person was laughable. As he began to chuckle, I felt myself losing my temper.
"It’s not fucking funny!" I insisted. "I am not a fucking slut! Stop fucking laughing!"
"Or what?" he laughed. "Are you going to beat me up, little girl? Drop the act; you have nothing with which to threaten me. If you want to argue that you’re not a slut, though, by all means go ahead. You’ve been entertaining so far, and I’m sure this’ll be downright hilarious."
I wanted to punch him in the face, but I knew I didn’t have the courage to do it. It was for the better, anyway. I doubt that I could even hurt him, and he’d have little difficulty punishing me for my attack. Forcing down the rage, I tried to gather my thoughts and argue that I wasn’t a slut – he had given me permission, it seemed wasteful not to take it. Unfortunately, there weren’t a ton of arguments that I could make that I hadn’t already disproven by my actions.
"It’s not like I do this all the time," I argued.
"You mean like Danielle," he prodded.
I hadn’t, actually. I was only talking about myself, but Danielle did seem like a good example of how I didn’t behave. I was angry at her anyway, I didn’t see any reason why I shouldn’t bash her to defend myself.
"Yes, exactly," I agreed. "She’s probably been with more men in the last month than I’ve been with in my entire life. She’s the slut, not me."
"Are you still going off on that?" came Danielle’s voice from the doorway. "Jesus, Trevor, I’d have thought you’d have broken her of that habit by now."
"These things take time," Trevor shrugged. "Progress is being made, but it’s unreasonable to expect instant results."
"I’m not asking for instant," Danielle shot back, "but her panties are still on. You haven’t even fucked the little bitch yet, have you?"
"Danielle," Trevor sighed, "as much as I generally enjoy feedback, this is not the time. I assure you, I know what I’m doing. While I’m sure you have interesting and unique insight, I’d much prefer it if you could just shut the fuck up."
It was interesting watching their conversation. Trevor’s tone implied that he wasn’t exactly thrilled to have Danielle criticize his actions. I wondered if I could use that to my advantage – perhaps getting Trevor on Danielle instead of myself. Strangely, the idea of Trevor raping Danielle didn’t comfort me -- it made me jealous.
"Not that I’m obligated to address your concern," Trevor continued, "but I was just about to 'fuck the little bitch', as you so eloquently phrased it."
"Calm down," she replied. "I’m just screwing with you; I know that you know what you’re doing. If you’re about to fuck her, I’d love to help. You can even use my bed."
"I don’t really need your help," Trevor shot back.
"I know you don’t," Danielle explained, "but I’d like to help anyway. Come on, let me at least hold the little bitch’s legs apart for you. Please?"
I hated the idea of Danielle watching, and hated the idea of her helping him even more. I was hoping that I’d be able to lie about the experience later and deny that I may have enjoyed it a little more than I should have, and that would be difficult to do with her there. As Trevor looked over at me I pleaded with him with my eyes to refuse her offer. That may have been a mistake – he seemed to enjoy the discomfort that it was inspiring.
"Fair enough," he laughed. "You can help."
Trevor rose to his feet while maintaining his grip on my hair and followed Danielle to her bedroom. I wanted to fight him, but knew that it was futile. Instead I simply allowed him to lead me into her room by my hair, as if it were a leash. Once all three of us were inside he crudely shoved me towards the bed and shut the door behind us.
Unsure of what to do I stood around nervously as Trevor disrobed. I glanced at Danielle, hoping that she might stop things before they went too far. Unfortunately, I saw no sympathy in her eyes. She looked amused and aroused, unlikely to help. Noticing the fact that I was looking at her she approached me slowly.
"You don’t need her panties on, do you?" she asked Trevor.
"I don’t," he shrugged. "Feel free to remove them if you like."
I wanted to keep my panties, but it seemed like that would be impossible. I might have been able to take Danielle, but I didn’t expect Trevor to just stand idly by while I tried. Talking her out of it clearly wasn’t going to happen; the expression on her face made it very clear that she wasn’t interested in discussion. Resigned to my fate, I simply stood still as she pulled my panties to the floor.
With my panties around my ankles Danielle shoved me to the bed, forcing me on to it. She took a minute to stare at my body, openly leering at me. Her staring made me extremely uncomfortable; I attempted to cover my nudity with my arms but she continued to ogle me. In a strange way, I was starting to feel closer to Trevor than I was to her.
Trevor finished removing his clothing and approached the bed. Following his lead, Danielle hopped into bed and sat up next to my head. Grabbing my arms, she pulled them back and pinned them down. Trevor knelt down in front of me and wrapped his hands around my ankles. I struggled to keep my legs crossed, but it was pointless – he effortlessly pulled my ankles aside, exposing my vagina. Unable to move any of my limbs, I tried in vain to clench my thighs together, feeling mortified and vulnerable.
"Climb up on her chest," Trevor instructed. "Kneel on her elbows and grab her ankles. If she resists, feel free to smother her with your ass."
As Danielle climbed into position I thought about the implications of what Trevor said. I knew that Danielle identified as bisexual, though I always assumed she made that claim only to make herself more appealing to men. I didn’t think that she’d actually do anything sexual to me normally, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she did on Trevor’s suggestion.
The idea of being with her sexually was terrifying. I had always identified as straight, and even if I was into women I don’t think that Danielle would be the type of woman that I’d end up with. Fortunately, she was still clothed – though she was wearing a skirt. I forced myself to relax my body, allowing her to take control in the hopes that she wouldn’t feel the need to punish me.
"Jesus, look how wet this bitch is," she laughed. "It almost seems cruel that you haven’t fucked her yet."
Danielle’s comment made me tremendously self-conscious. Knowing that she was staring between my legs, it took all of my willpower just to keep myself from trying to clench them shut. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long – I quickly felt Trevor’s body rubbing up against mine and the head of his cock brushing up against my slit. Again I felt my cunt fighting with my mind, though this time it didn’t really matter who won. Regardless of whether I wanted it or not, I was about to get fucked.
Trevor braced his hands against the inside of my knees and with a single motion penetrated me hard. There was no romance or tenderness in his actions; he was clearly fucking me, not making love to me. It hurt a little, but less than I would have expected – as Danielle had pointed out, I was really, really wet down there.
As Trevor worked into a steady pace I felt my defenses melting. It was too late to prevent him from fucking me and my wetness contradicted any claim that I might try to make about not enjoying it. Seeing as I was already damned, I gave myself license to give in. I tried to pull my ankles out of Danielle’s grip, wanting to wrap them around Trevor’s body.
Danielle didn’t seem to appreciate my cooperation. Tightening her grip on my ankles she pulled back and out, showing me that she was in charge – not me. Holding me steady, she lowered herself down and balanced her weight on my face. She made sure that my face went under the very short skirt that she was wearing; the only thing between my skin and her twat was the thin fabric of her panties. It was humiliating and uncomfortable, but strangely, it was also a turn-on.
I put up a token struggle with my arms but gave up quickly. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to free myself, I just felt like it would be inappropriate to not at least try. A part of me didn’t even want to be free, anyway. I was still mad at Danielle, but I couldn’t deny that I was glad she had set this up.
Danielle ground her ass into my face, thrusting it back and forth. I don’t think that she was getting any kind of sexual pleasure out of it, but she seemed to enjoy humiliating me. Breathing in the musky scent of her cunt through her panties, I began to doubt my sexuality. I still didn’t actually want to be with a woman, but I secretly hoped that she’d remove her panties. I wouldn’t be willing to go down on her in any other situation, but I would have liked her to force me.
As Danielle continued to grind her crotch into my face, Trevor increased his pace. Surprisingly, I felt another orgasm building rapidly. I remembered Trevor’s warning about cumming without permission, but I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified by the idea of having to ask for permission in front of Danielle, knowing that she’d remind me of it every chance that she got. At the same time, I didn’t think I’d be able to stop or hide my orgasm. I didn’t know exactly how Trevor might punish me if I came without permission, but I didn’t want to find out, either.
I tried to forget about my predicament, but that just wasn’t going to happen. With each powerful thrust Trevor pushed me closer to the edge and reminded me that I’d have to take action. I didn’t want to beg him for permission to cum, but it didn’t seem like it would make that much of a difference – Danielle already had all the ammunition that she would need to humiliate me in the future. Besides, I knew that if I came without permission Trevor would punish me in a way that would be far worse than the indignity I’d suffer asking for permission.
Swallowing my pride, I tried to speak. Danielle didn’t seem to approve of this and pressed her crotch down into my mouth, muffling my voice. I tried to turn my head to the side, but she held it still between her thighs.
"Let her speak," Trevor ordered, still fucking me hard. "You can grind your cunt into her later."
With a heavy sigh, Danielle lifted off of my face. I knew that she didn’t like being ordered around – I was actually mostly surprised that she obeyed without challenge. Gasping for air, I searched for the courage to ask Trevor for permission to cum. Unfortunately, with Danielle hovering over my face and obviously paying close attention, I was too embarrassed.
"If you don’t have anything to say," Trevor warned, "I don’t see why I shouldn’t let Danielle hump your face some more. I’ll give you three seconds – if you haven’t spat it out by then, I’ll just assume it isn’t that important."
"Please let me cum," I blurted out, knowing that if Danielle silenced me again I likely wouldn’t be able to hold off my orgasm long enough to get another chance to ask.
"What a fucking slut," Danielle laughed. "I might sleep around, but even I would never beg a man to let me cum."
"I’m not a slut!" I growled.
"If you’re not a slut," Trevor interjected, "then you should have no problem with me declining your request. After all, a chaste girl should never cum from her own rape – it simply wouldn’t be proper. If you have nothing else to say, I think it’s only fair that Danielle should be permitted to continue using your face as she pleases."
"Wait!" I shouted, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to contain my orgasm. "Please don’t make me say it? Please just let me cum?"
"You’re wasting time," Trevor growled, punctuating his words with sharp thrusts. "And if you think that being forced to admit that you’re a slut is bad, just wait and see what will happen if you dare to cum without permission. Danielle, shut this bitch up for me."
I wanted to continue arguing, but Danielle immediately silenced me by forcing her crotch back into my face. I tried to talk through her, but it was futile – her position made it impossible to move my mouth and her body muffled my words. Unable to voice my objection, I tried as best as I could to put off my orgasm.
Forcing myself to not cum was not something that I had experience with. I found the task to be nearly impossible – as much as I tried to think of asexual things, Trevor’s rigid thrusts consistently managed to remind me of my predicament. I managed to last a few more minutes before I had to accept that it was impossible to put it off any longer. Not wanting to be punished, I screamed into Danielle’s cunt in the hopes of getting their attention. Danielle slid back, allowing me to speak again.
"Before you say anything," Trevor warned, "if the next words out of your mouth aren’t 'I’m a fucking slut' I swear to god that you won’t get another chance."
I didn’t want to say it, but I didn’t have a choice. Even if Trevor would have tolerated argument, I didn’t have time to make a case. I knew that I couldn’t hold off a second longer.
"I’m a fucking slut," I admitted, tears streaming down my face. "Please let me cum now?"
"Make her admit she’s a bigger slut than me," Danielle demanded. "Don’t let her cum until she does."
"I’m not going to force her to lie," Trevor laughed. "I just wanted her to acknowledge her true nature. Faith, you may cum."
He had barely finished speaking when my orgasm finally began. I knew that I should have been humiliated and enraged by the indignity of being forced to admit that I was a slut, but the only thing I could think of was how good it felt. Openly moaning in bliss, I came hard – apathetic to my own dignity.
Satisfied that he had made me admit what I really am, Trevor began to cum shortly after I did. With a deep grunt he thrust deep into me, flooding my insides with his warm semen. I tried again to wrap my legs around him, but Danielle stopped me. I didn’t care, I was in heaven.
Danielle released me and climbed off after our orgasms ended. Exhausted, Trevor collapsed on top of me. Breathing heavily, I wrapped both my arms and legs around him, not wanting him to ever pull out. I was still afraid of him, still feeling victimized; but I didn’t want to let go. I had come to terms with the fact that I was a slut. I just wanted to make sure that he knew I was his slut, too.
All three of us slept in Danielle’s bed that night, with Trevor holding me in his massive arms. I probably should have been afraid, but I wasn’t. I felt safer than I ever had before with him. The fact that he was holding me instead of Danielle made me happy. It also gave me ideas.
It seemed like Trevor liked me better than Danielle. I was thrilled by that, but it also presented an opportunity. Although I was glad that Danielle had set the whole thing up, it felt like she should be punished for it as well. If I could get Trevor on my side, I could make that happen.
The second chapter of this story is available on my blog at http://atteroerotica.blogspot.com/
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