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That day I didn't
know what to do. Kaley called, but I didn't want to see anybody. I
stayed in my room, thinking about how incredible it had felt with Mr. Cameron's
hand crushing my boob, thinking about how horrible it was that he was such a pervert,
worrying about him telling my father what I had been doing, worrying that if I
told anybody what he had done nobody would believe me. I didn't eat well
all day, and kept telling myself that I wasn't going to meet him, that I wasn't
going to show up. But then I thought I should, and just talk to him, so
he wouldn't tell my father what I had done. But then I knew that if I
showed up he would want to do things to me, awful things, things like those
boys had done to Brooke, and that thought made my mind spin, remembering his
hand hurting me.
All day I
obsessed about it, and told my parents I wasn't feeling well so they would stop
worrying about me. I went to be early, but couldn't sleep. I kept
watching the clock, my body seeming to grow hotter with each passing
minute. I was shaking when the clock reached midnight; I still didn't
know what to do. I had to go over there; I knew if I did he would fuck
me, but I told myself I was just going to talk to him, knowing that I was lying
to myself. I got up and pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and grabbed a
pair of slippers.
It's easy
sneaking out of my room--I used to do it all the time when I was 10; open the
window, climb down the trellis. It seemed like as soon as I made the
decision I was in his yard, sliding his back door open, and stepping into his
house. He was sitting in the living room, the light from the TV the only
one in the house, and he turned when he heard me enter. I froze as he
stood up and started to walk over to me.
"You're
late."
"..."
He took me by the
shoulders and I grew warm and kept my head down as I felt his gaze sweep my
body. He was so big compared to me, I remember thinking. Six feet
tall maybe, like my father; and maybe one-seventy. I was only five-four
and ninety-five lbs. He was in his boxers and a t-shirt. He turned
and led my by my shoulder.
"Come
on."
I was in a daze
as he led me upstairs, and I tried to protest, thinking he was taking me to his
bedroom, but he quieted me, telling me he was taking me to his study.
His study was the
size of my room, but had two computers, a desk, a filing cabinet, and several
bookshelves. He hit a key on the computer and my eyes were drawn to the
screen as it came to life, the fourth picture, the picture that I was caught
looking at, came up. He sat down, pulling me into his lap, my legs
straddling his. I was shaking by now, knowing what was coming, not
wanting it and wanting it. I could feel his cock against my ass, and
tried not to move.
"Tell me,
tell me why this picture turns you on so much."
His voice was
commanding, his hands hot against my stomach as he held me to him. The
picture seemed to fill my sight. I started babbling,
"It's...it's
how she must have felt. How she must have thought it was all over, that
they were done with her. And then this." Through my shaking I
shuddered. "The pain as that branch ripped into her. It must
have hurt, hurt so much. Tearing her, ripping her. And the despair,
that they weren't done with her, that she had to suffer more. It's like
she wasn't human to them; she was nothing. Something to play with, to
torture. That they could do anything to her and she could do
nothing. That even her most private spot could be violated and used
against her, used to control her. It's so brutal. It's so
awful."
I went on and on
like that, I don't know how long, but I know that his hands had moved, and one
had slid between the buttons on my pajama top and his hand was hot against my
breast, squeezing, the pain making me shiver and shake and my teeth chatter so
I had a hard time talking. I remember thinking that I had to keep
talking; it was like I was trying to ignore his hands, his hand on my breast,
his other hand under my pajama bottoms, under my panties, his fingers rubbing
my clit, making me gasp and chatter out my words.
I stopped talking
as it built up in me; it hurt, but it felt so good I didn't want it to
stop. I felt his cock hard against my ass, his fingers sending electric
shocks through my cunt, his hand on my breast making my whole chest ache in the
most wonderful way. He seemed to engulf me; there was nothing I could
do. The feeling grew until I felt like I couldn't stand it anymore, and
then I came, my back arching against his grasp, panting, shaking, my first
orgasm ever seeming to burn my body. I went limp in his arms.
"Girls like
you," he spoke softly in my ear, "don't want to be made love
to." I noticed a set of padded wrist restraints for the first time
as he reached across me take them from his desk. "Girls like you
want to be raped." He slid one on the restraints on my wrist and
tightened it. "Beaten." He slid the other one onto my
other wrist. "Fucked." He leaned me forward in his lap,
pulling my arms behind me, my mind spinning. "Their slutty
cunts pounded by cock." I heard a click and my arms were bound
behind me. I moaned, desire seeming to pound through my body with each
heart beat. "Fuck-sluts." He stood up, lifting me
easily. "Rape-toys." He was carrying me somewhere; I
didn't care where. I was in some other place.
"Cunt-meat."
We were in his
garage; it was dim, lit by a single bulb. He carried me to an old
mattress lying on the ground and dropped me onto my back on it. He tore
my pajama bottoms off me, and my panties, and he was leaning over me, ripping
open my top, exposing my tits. I was exposed, and watched as he stood and
stepped out of his boxers, his cock looking huge to me. It was happening
so fast I couldn't think, I couldn't react. I lay there listening to the
pounding of my own heart and shaking with desire, realizing that that huge
thing was going to be inside of me, fucking me, hurting me.
He practically
fell on me, pushing my thighs apart, pushing his cock against my virgin
cunt. I was staring up into his chest as he pushed harder and
harder. I was saying "Oh god oh god" over and over and then I
screamed and arched as he entered me, sliding into my slick cunt in one slow,
agonizing thrust. It was torment; I was being torn apart; I didn't want
it to ever stop. He began thrusting, and I began grunting. Every
time he thrust in his cock jolted my insides, sending shooting jolts of
electric pain through my body.
He was covering
my completely, crushing me beneath him as he pounded into me. I felt that
feeling again, that pressure building up until I thought I was going to go
crazy. It was like last time, but more, worse, better, and then I
screamed when I couldn't take it anymore and came, pinned down beneath
him. He didn't stop though; he kept fucking me, bruising my thighs and
cunt with his pounding. He seemed to speed up and I was overwhelmed; the
pressure hadn't gone away, it was getting stronger, and stronger, more painful,
more pleasurable. I was babbling and moaning, my head turning from side
to side under him, my face rubbing against his chest, my legs flopping up and
back. I felt him stiffen on top of me and I thought I was going to pass
out as I came again.
------------------------------------
She was bound,
spread-eagle, to his bed. Her wrists and ankles were encircled by padded
leather cuffs. The cuffs at her ankles were linked by a single chain,
wrapped around the posts on his bed. He stood at the foot of the bed and
watched her naked body stretch as he used a bar to twist the chain, shortening
it. He heard her joints crack, and she moaned, a deep moan of desire and
lust. He kept turning, hand over hand, and the chain kept shortening, and
her moans came longer and loader, and her body became tauter and tauter.
He sat down on
his bed next to her, running his hand along her flattened stomach, amazed by
the narrowness of her waist. This young girl was his, his willing sex
slave. He smiled as he saw the wetness at her crotch, and reached over to
the nightstand to get this night's entertainment.
Her eyes widened
when he showed her the pins, four of them, each one inch long and topped by a
small round head. Her breathing quickened and she shuddered in
anticipation as he turned to put all but one of them down. He grasped her
nipple, hard with lust, and pulled it away from her flattened breast, torturing
the small, pink nubbin between his fingers. She wanted to arch her back,
she wanted to thrust and roll her hips, but only her head and hands and feet
were free to move. She moaned as the pain hit her, as he slid the needle
slowly through the flesh just below her areola, pushing it through her
stretched breast meat until it came out the other side.
Her breathing was
rabbit quick, her diaphragm pulled so tight that she could hardly breath.
Her head was back and her eyes closed, drinking in the sensations from her
body. He pulled up her other nipple and inserted the second pin, earning
another long, low moan.
She felt him
shift on the bed, and then felt his fingers spread her pussy lips open,
exposing her clit. The tip of the needle scraped against her clit,
sending shock-waves through her bound body; her mind reeled and blood pounded
through her head. She couldn't breath, her body too stretched to let her breath.
Every breath was a soft, rasping scream as he tormented her clit with the
needle.
For long minutes
he toyed with her, torturing her clit with the needle, barely drawing blood and
then pulling back, watching her thighs and stomach quiver under his assault, his
fingers and the bed-spread becoming soaked with her juices as she screamed and
moaned for him. He stopped, letting her recover, letting her breathing
return to normal, stroking her thighs and her stomach as she calmed. He
reached down between her legs again, using his fingers to separate her ass, and
slowly pushed the third pin into her perineum.
She felt the pin
slide in; it didn't hurt, but her tits throbbed, and her clit throbbed, and now
between her legs throbbed. He had one more pin, and she started crying,
knowing where he was going to put it, and wanting it and not wanting it so
badly. She felt his hand stroking her cheek.
"Now Amy, I
have one more pin. You know where I'm going to put it, don't you?"
"Yes, oh god
yes."
"Beg
me."
"Oh god, oh
god, please, please."
"Please
what, Amy?"
"In my
clit! In my clit! Please put it in my clit!"
"Very
good."
And he was at her
clit, pulling at it, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, making her
sob and cry in pleasure and desire and fear. He slowly began pushing it
into her, and she started screaming, and he pushed, and she screamed, and he
pushed until his thumb mashed her clit against her steaming flesh, a small
metal ball pinning it to her. Her vision darkened as she panted and
moaned and thrashed her head back and forth.
Suddenly he was
over her, and she felt him press into her sopping cunt. Then his weight
came down, and her body joints cracked under his weight, aching pain flooding
her, joining the throbbing in her tits and ass and the fiery agony in her
clit. She came screaming, and thought her body was going to fly apart;
and then his groin hit hers, grinding the pin deeper into her clit, and orgasm
seemed to tear her apart. Her eyes were open but she couldn't see, only
feel as he began slowly fucking her stretched, tortured body.
He took his time,
enjoying every little quiver of her bound, teenaged body. Her cunt seemed
to be spasming continuously, and her breath was coming in short, quick
gasps. Her head was thrown back, her eyes open, starting at
nothing. Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen as he teased himself
with her body. He sped up, beginning to pound into her hard, and she
screamed and her cunt seemed to suck his cock into her and hold it there.
He came, and when he looked up, she had passed out.
------------------------------------
I can't believe I
fell asleep. I don't remember falling asleep in my bed that night; I only
remember my mind spinning in big, crazy circles around what had just
happened. My neighbor, Mr. Cameron, had fucked me. He had
practically raped me, and I had loved it. My body flushed with excitement
remembering, just a few minutes ago, how I had been used and degraded. It
was awful; it was wonderful. I couldn't tell anyone. I wanted to
tell everyone. Everything had changed. He had told me to come back
the next night, same time, and to wear something sexy. I didn't want to
go. I knew I would go. Something had gotten ahold of me, a deep,
uncontrollable craving. As much as I was humiliated and ashamed of what I
had allowed to happen to me, I wanted more. More.
The day was
weird. Life went along as it always did; breakfast with my parents,
talking with Kaley and a few of my other friends on the phone. Arranging
to meet up at the coffee shop at around noon. It was all different,
though, because I was so different. I still don't believe that they don't
see it, that everybody is so blind to what happened, is still happening, to me.
It's like I entered a new world where I was looking out of my own body and
nobody else could see in. Fear of discovery tinged everything, made all
my actions, all my words, dangerous. Knowledge of sex, of the pleasure it
could give made me wonder if my friends had experienced it, if they too had a
deep, dark secret like me. Knowledge too of what the looks some boys gave
me and my friends really meant, their desire for our bodies seeming to blaze
from their eyes, made my body tingle with thoughts of 'if they only knew'.
Finally, awareness that at midnight I would be standing before a man, a real
man, and he would do things to me, such things, tinged everything, every word,
every look, everything I did, fogged my mind with lust.
I think Kaley
noticed something was different, because I recall that she gave me a few
strange looks that day, and kidded me for being a space-case. I acted
like I always did and waited for midnight, for when he would take me again.
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