Sure

Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault

He asked me to bite his cock and who was I to say no? I physically couldn’t decline; he’d shoved the thick shaft down my throat before he’d asked me. I guess I could have just continued doing my thing, but what would have been the point? I wanted him to feel good, didn’t I? It doesn’t really take much effort, to bite a cock, I mean. So I just did it. And he finished. And I swallowed. And it was fine.

I paid more attention to the carpet burns on my knees than I did to his completion. Those always fucking hurt. I should have brought something to kneel on really, I knew what I was there for. He said something to me from his seated position on the couch, maybe he just murmured his appreciation – I didn’t really hear it. I got up to get myself a glass of water. My mouth felt sticky.

The kitchen wasn’t much. Few unwashed dishes, few upside down cups. Not dissimilar to my mom’s, in that case. Fairly clean for the most part and it was apparent that the man didn’t struggle for much. Nice furniture, most of it the same oak, straight out of a catalogue. I almost envied it.

“Hey, Abigail, can you bring me some water?” Flashes of red and blue danced across the apartment, vanishing as quickly as they appeared. “Amanda.” This was the third time.

“Sorry baby.” I brought him his water. He drank as if it held the secrets of the universe. Drops dribbled down his chin and onto his lap.

I said nothing. I wanted to go home. He pulled a joint out of his pocket and lit it. I’ve never minded pot, my friends have done it for years, but I always find the lack of awareness unsettling. What if he wanted another blowjob? Could I even give blowjobs on weed? I always wanted to be good. If I was good, I’d be asked back.

“Want some?”

I said yes. I think it was mixed with something, it was different. Or maybe it was just the residual cum in my mouth tarnishing the taste.

“What are you, like, nineteen, right?” His dark eyebrows furrowed like two angry caterpillars. I had to hold back a laugh.

I questioned why he had asked.

“I don’t know, you look like you’d be quite young without the makeup,” he said.

“Thanks?” What the fuck was I supposed to say to that. Oh yeah, I’m actually fifteen, well done, gold star! Girls have gotten away with lying about their age before and we’ll continue to get away with it in the future.

“I guess you’re right though, you do look nineteen really.” I wanted this guy to shut up. Just shut his goddamn mouth. I didn’t care about his personal musings. That’s not what I was there for.

We sat in silence and shared the joint. I realized that I had nothing to say to him and I was under the impression that he felt the same. Instead I focused on the room. Was it getting smaller? Fucking weed. It was definitely getting darker. The door fazed into a hazy outline and I was sure it was getting farther away. Wait, what. I thought it was getting smaller? Nah, the ceiling was just coming down.

His large palm moved to rest on the top half of my exposed thigh. He was looking at my breasts. And then my eyes. Back to my breasts. Just get on with it.

Then his mouth was on mine. His lips were dry, chapped, the longer they remained, the more the friction infected my own. I felt the moisture leave my lips with every passing second. His tongue forced its way into my mouth. The wetness on my lips only had the effect of drying my lips quicker. They hurt. The organ explored my mouth, worked its way through the depths of the new cavern. My own muscle withdrew and allowed the foreign adventurer the control it craved.

I felt sick. The ceiling sank lower with every second he remained above me. I wanted to go. I couldn’t bring myself to stop him. I don’t know if it was because I was scared of what he’d do or if I was just afraid of being pushed away. But I was too afraid. I could barely breathe. His hands were on my waist and then on my ass. I was pulled against his crotch, no space to move. The assault on my mouth remained unrelenting.

The familiarity of the helplessness calmed my limbs. I was still as a corpse. Would have preferred to be a corpse. My clothes had been torn from my body – he didn’t want to remove his mouth, I guess. Easier to remove the barrier to his desire than the dominion he had over my mouth. You can’t say no if you physically can’t say anything.

I felt like I was about to pass out. He must have realized since he decided to remove his mouth from mine.

“Bedroom or couch?”

I caught my breath. “Your choice.”

“I’ll take you right here.” His hand was in my underwear, fingers found the entrance they wished to violate.

“I’m down either way.”

He paused. “Could you dig your nails into my ass? It’s the only way I can finish.”

I sighed. “Yeah, alright.” Who was I to say no?

 

BETH ROBERTS

Originally published april 23, 2019

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