Rapebait - Sex Stories

Rapebait

... seat. Closed the door, lay back against the seat, head spinning, dazed eyes half closed. Where do you live? She mumbled her address. He accelerates. They talk, she doesn’t remember about what. The afterimage of streetlights rushing past are like comets on the inside of her eyelids. He gives her cigarettes, better than candy. She’ll end up smoking the rest of the packet by the end of the trip. She remembers the man asking if a cute little thing like her had a boyfriend and her answer flying out of her mouth that she’d broken up with him six weeks ago. Another question, and here it got bad, it got really bad, why did you break up with him? A thousand answers flying through her brain and all she wanted to tell him was the truth. Her mind screaming at her fucking traitorous mouth that she was going to get herself in trouble, you know how he’s going to view you if you say it, you know this is a bad idea, you know what you’re opening yourself up for, just lie, say it was personality, your families don’t get along. Just don’t- We weren’t compatible. Oh yeah? In what way? She takes a long drag, holds the smoke in her too full lungs, lets the answer escape along with her exhale. Sexually. Oh really. Yeah. The question repeated, In what way? and she felt a sudden and overwhelming sense of inevitability. It crushed her. She couldn’t breathe. She forced a ragged inhalation. Well, I kind of like it rough, you know.. and he wasn’t really comfortable with that.. she trails away, glances at ...

... him, sees his speculative eyes and shudders. Head a mess and spinny with nicotine, dumping tar into her lungs. His voice a drone in her left ear. She remembers the phrase I wouldn’t have expected a girl like you to be into that stuff and then the guilt hits her, distracts her and she breaks into whatever he’s saying, apologising, I’m sorry you have to take me home, you don’t have to, I’ll just get a taxi, I don’t want to trouble you. She says I fucked up, I missed the train. She says, it’s my fault. She says that over and over and then he starts telling her that she fucked up, too, and that’s comforting. She only protests weakly when he slides his hand into her panties. The rest of the drive is a blur. She directs him automatically, disconnected from the things he’s doing below her waist. She thinks at some point she asks him to slap her, and she only realises how much and how hard he hit the next morning by the ache in the side of her face. They reach her house, and pass it, she hears her voice say, subdued, almost resigned, I think you drove past, I live back there.. and him replying, let’s just drive around the block. He pulls into a carpark, stops the car, opens his door and walks around her her side. Opens her door. He tells her that if she screams, he’ll get all his friends to- and she doesn’t bother explaining that she doesn’t need that, that she was already handled. The inevitability forcing her to her knees, prying her mouth open. Being bent over the car hood, mouth ...