Trigger warning: this story contains consensual non-consent in a fantasy framework.
The crickets chirped as I pulled the car up to the clearing. Nothing but trees around us and stars above us. I turned off the motor but left the lights and the radio on. Out there, the station was a little static-y, but the smooth sounds of an old Motown song came through.
Stacy was twenty. We met online, talked a lot, hit it off. I wasn’t sure she would go for me. I was a bit older, a little awkward. Turns out she was just as awkward. Two book nerds who found we hit it off pretty well over coffee.
She was pretty, sort of fair-skinned, green-eyed, very short reddish-brown hair parted neatly with bangs that were swept to the side and held back with a barrette. She was that perfect (at least for me) edge of just a little chubby. The slightest little belly and a plump bottom and chubby cheeks and cupid bow lips. She wore a light blue shirt with some band name on it I’ve never heard of and a smart little denim skirt. Knee-high socks and Chucks. Cute. Adorable even. Big bright eyes and lip-glossed lips.
This was our second date, the first being the coffee. This time it was a foreign film and some Indian food. It was sort of perfect, and now we were caught in the grips of the awkward pre-first-kiss conversation.
“It’s beautiful up here,” she marveled, looking out of the windshield at the stars. Orion was visible. The full moon loomed huge and silver in the distance. The sky was dark blue, but not quite night.
“You look beautiful,” I said, marveling too.
She looked down at her knees and smiled her crooked little smile.
I wasn’t sure exactly how to do it. The first move is so hard to make organic and casual. I shifted in my seat, moving a little closer to her. She pulled her skirt to cover some of the expanse of skin between where her socks ended, and it began and settled closer to me so that our shoulders just brushed.
When our bodies touched for that second, we turned and faced each other. It was the moment. I moved in, and she moved in, and then everything in the world faded, and it was just the taste of her vanilla lip gloss and the softness of her kiss and my hand on her side as she turned in to give herself to the kiss fully.
It was perfect, a long, slow kiss. Just the slightest brush of our tongues together, the sweetness of her mouth, and the lingering spice of our dinners and her cherry coke.
When we pulled apart, she was beaming. I’m sure I was too. Her skin glowed in the moonlight, powdery and pale. She giggled a little, her eyes sparkling, and then closed her eyes when I moved in to kiss her again.
We kissed, my hand again resting on her side. I could feel the warmth of her skin through the cotton. As her mouth opened a little more, my hand moved up a little until my thumb touched the bottom of her bra. She giggled again, breaking our kiss. I moved my hand up a little more, just barely cupping her breast. She took a deep breath and looked me in the eyes. Then she pushed my hand down.
She sat up in her seat, swallowing. I looked down and gave her an apologetic smile. She looked at me, the light blue of her eye shadow making her eyes vivid. I noticed a touch of glitter on her cheeks. That, with the way her bangs were held back with a baby blue barrette, made her look so young and fresh-faced.
I took a breath and sat back too. She watched me, bit her lip a little, then, seeming to have made up her mind, leaned over and kissed me again. We fell into a deeper kiss, mouths growing hungrier. She slipped her arms around me and sighed into my neck, then kissed my cheek, looking up into my eyes.
I smiled back as my hand smoothed her shirt, moved up, and cupped her breast again. Her eyes flashed, angry as she pushed my hand away. My hand rested on her leg. I frowned at her. The atmosphere in the car grew increasingly more tense.
My fingers moved up to the edge of her shirt and then under it. She made a tiny angry huff and tried to push it away, but I slipped my hand under her shirt and moved it up the hot skin of her stomach, and then cupped her lacy bra-covered breast.
“No!” she cried and pulled at my hand, but I caressed and relished the soft forbidden delicacy of her body as she tried to pull me away. I pulled at her bra and then at her insanely soft skin until I freed one breast from confinement. She pulled at my hand, but I wouldn’t budge. Once my fingers felt the delicious little nub of her nipple, I was lost to anything but the feel of her.
That’s when she smacked me.
It was some time after our first date when I had first found her blog. She left hints. She mentioned writing about this or that online. I googled her email address, and it wasn’t very hard to connect the dots—a pretty blue webpage with entries that ranged from innocent to downright smutty.
I left a comment, something benign. She emailed me, telling me she didn’t mind that I read it. I asked her about fantasies. She said she had all kinds.
She was so much bolder online, but aren’t we all. I told her how I wanted to kiss her when we went out for coffee. She said I should have. It went back and forth like this.
“I’m not good at making the first move,” she admitted. “In fact, I sort of need a guy to make the first move.”
She told me how she wanted it, how she wanted to be taken, how she wanted me to take her. I was dubious. It wasn’t exactly my thing… or was it? The idea germinated in the back of my mind.
She told me it didn’t matter – it was a game we could play or not. She said if I wanted some reassurance, then I should stop if she said “ice cream” or if she banged three times on something.
“In case you are covering my mouth.” she wrote.
“I like to have my mouth covered,” she added.
My head was buzzing with some sexual version of cognitive dissonance—this nice, pretty sweet girl having such edgy fantasies.
“Just stop, ok?” Stacy sighed, folding her arms over her chest and pouting.
“Maybe we should just go home,” I said, which confused her. I tried not to smile. The battle between wanting to keep up the façade and wanting to continue fooling around seemed to throw her.
I turned the key in the ignition, and the car rumbled to life. She put her hand on mine and looked me in the eyes.
“Just wait. We’re having a good time. You just got… carried away. I’m sorry if I over-reacted,” she was looked down now, unsure.
I turned off the engine. I sat back and looked at her, relishing the embarrassment.
“It’s just that I thought you liked me, Stacy.”
She smiled weakly. “I do!”
I smiled back and leaned in to kiss her. She pulled back for a moment and then kissed me chastely on the lips. I smiled again into her kisses and kissed her deeply. Her eyes fluttered as she melted into the kiss, and I felt her trembling a little.
My hand landed on her knee, innocently. As we kissed, my fingers traced little circles in her skin. She was aware of it, but it wasn’t that intrusive. We were really kissing now. The sweetness of her mouth almost made me forget what game we were playing.
When I pushed her back a little, and my hand started working up her thigh, she gasped into my mouth, breaking our kiss. I had to push up her skirt at the same time, or my hand wouldn’t fit between her legs – Show quoted text – the night was upon us. The door swung open, and before I knew it, she was slipping away, tumbling to the grass outside of the car.
I got out and stood over her. She was panting, her skirt still pulled up to her waist, the light blue of her panties showing a little. I held out my hand.
“I have to go home, Jack. Take me home.” she pouted, not looking into my eyes.
This little ball of worry started in my stomach. Was this all a game? Did I break some rule or go too far? She hadn’t said the word.
“You have to take me home, please! You can’t just… just… you can’t ra-” she bit her lip. “You can’t just fuck me here.”
She was still on the floor, looking down at my shoes. Her legs opened a little, her hair slightly rustled.
We can be all different kinds of people at different times, and certain people brought out different things in us. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t something I particularly wanted, but in the moment, I was lost in this girl’s fantasy. It took me over and, suddenly, I was rock hard. My eyes narrowed, and I was what she wanted me to be.
There is a euphoria in that because you don’t have to be who you are, and you can revel in being something someone truly wants.
And that’s when I hit her.
Just a smack across the face. One smack, and you find out so much about a girl. They can call the whole thing off, though I’ve never gotten to that point with someone who would call things off for a smack in the face. There are girls who will take it and look down and blush. There are girls who will get giddy little smiles after they are smacked, delighting in the adrenaline rush. Then there are the girls like Stacy who look right into your eyes and clench their jaws. Girls who fight back.
I like them all in different ways, bratty to groveling, but a fighter is extra fun.
She glared at me as she held her cheek and awkwardly got up off the ground. One of her knees was stained green from the grass, just above her sock.
She was about to say something when headlights came from behind us. I saw two cars pull up to a clearing nearby. This was sort of a “lover’s lane” type place with a clear view of the sky and nothing else to disturb people. I had hoped we would have the place to ourselves, but it looked like we might have to find another place for our little game.
I walked around the car and got into the driver’s seat. I looked at her through the open passenger-side door and, starting the engine, said, “Get in the fucking car.”
She glared, took a look at the other cars, and obeyed. She sat in the seat with a huff and crossed her arms, and frowned.
“Are you taking me home?” she said with a pout.
I didn’t answer her. I just stepped on the gas.
I wonder what she saw when she looked at me. I was dying of curiosity, actually. I wanted to see the look in her eyes, study her body language, pick her apart, but we both had roles here. I had to drive. I had to look forward and clench my jaw and go.
“This isn’t the way to my apartment.” She was pouting with every word.
I didn’t have to pretend when I scoffed.
When I got to my block, I was trying to formulate something that wouldn’t seem that horrific to anyone who might see us, but at the same time, let her know that I was serious. I parked across the street and turned off the engine. I looked at her dead in the eyes. She had her arms folded in front of her chest, and she was frowning.
“Listen. It’s only 9 o’clock. We both got a little crazy, but I really like you. Just come up for a couple of minutes. There’s something I want to show you. Then I promise I’ll take you home.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“I’m not stupid,” she murmured.
She wasn’t going to make this easy. I should have been made, but I couldn’t stop smiling.
“Fine,” I said, opening my door and quickly running around to her side of the car.
I opened her door, and I grabbed her arm hard, and pulled her out. She tripped, but I held her up by her arm. I locked my door, and my alarm chirped. I pulled her so that our faces were an inch apart.
“This is my neighborhood. Don’t make a scene. I want to talk to you. I can’t let you leave on this note. Just come up for a second, and I’ll explain. We can’t talk out here, ok?” I said this all through gritted teeth.
When she rolled her eyes, I looked around because every inch of me needed to smack her again. She knew it too. The edge of her lip just barely curled into a smile.
I pulled her across the street, and she didn’t really start fighting me until we got to the door.
“I’m not going into your apartment, Jack. It’s not happening,” she said, trying to pull her arm from my grip.
I pulled her arm and then twisted it around her back.
“Just move.” My voice was steady, and my grip was firm.
I opened the door and pushed her forward. She fought every step, but we were moving forward, past the wall of mailboxes and the little table of orphaned magazines.
In the elevator, I put my hand over her mouth and pressed her against the wall. Her eyes were wide as she tensed in my grip. I took a hungry handful of her breast as she struggled.
When the door opened, I released her quickly and stood up straight. To our surprise, two of my neighbors were standing in the hallway waiting for the elevator. I smiled and walked out of the elevator and towards my door, listening intently for Stacy’s footsteps behind me.
“Hi,” she said politely to my neighbors.
I didn’t look back. I just opened my door. When I finally turned around, she was standing in the hallway with her arms crossed again.
I walked towards her, and she backed up. I lunged forward and caught both of her arms in my hands. She tried to turn, but I pulled her toward my door. She tried to pull my hands off of her arms, but before she knew it, she was already in my apartment, and the door was closed.
I chuckled. “Like you did when you saw my neighbors?”
She frowned, trying to think of an answer. The game versus real life. She didn’t want to break the role, but she knew she just did. She crossed her arms again, I pushed her against my door.
“You didn’t say a thing when they were watching us.”
She averted her gaze from mine.
“I… didn’t want to make a scene,” she whispered.
I slid my hand down her side and let my fingers spread out under her shirt. Her skin was hot and deliciously smooth. My other hand moved up and slipped into her short hair. I made a fist, and she winced as I pulled her hair hard and made her face me.
“Stop. You said you just wanted to talk-” she started, but I pulled my hand from her hair and slapped her hard across the face again.
“I thought you said you weren’t stupid.”
There’s a laugh that sometimes comes over me. Have you ever heard the giggle a girl gets when she is being topped? The nervous, giddy, sort of uncontrollable giggle like being tickled just a little too long? This is the exact opposite of that laugh. This is when control washes over you, and you turn that corner in your head, and you know that no matter how hard she squirms, you can hold her down, and no matter how hard she fights, you will win.
It’s the cocky laugh of someone who has been given the power. It’s not like I am taking something from her, after all. She is giving something to me. Something she feels she needs to give to me. It is always awkward for me to take it, because, in a way, I have been careful all my life not to, but once we were there and once we trusted each other enough, the decision is made, and I find I am more than capable of enjoying it.
It’s was a good thing to remind myself as I hit her again. One more smack across the face. Her eyes flash as she faces me, cheek bright red and her breath coming in hard puffs out of her nose.
I pull her hands above her head and press them against the door. She tried to knee me in the balls, and I smile wide and laugh again, moving my hip to block her and then pressing my knees against her legs so that she is pressed hard against the door.
“What are you going to do?” I say, my eyes on hers so that I can see my own reflection in angry green.
“I’m gonna fucking…” she spat through clenched teeth, but then just struggled more leaving her silly threat dangling unfinished.
I let her go a little, and she pushed forward, then I turned and used her little momentum to push her forward so that she hit the side of my couch with her legs. I twisted one of her armed behind her again and put my other hand on the back of her neck, and pushed her head down into the cushions of my couch as her body was bent over the arm.
She screamed into the cushion and flailed her one free arm around, only hitting the couch and the wall.
I took off my belt off loudly with one hand, and she froze a little, tensing her body. I grabbed her one flailing arm and pulled it behind her back, and then went to work getting the belt around her arms, just above the elbows. It wouldn’t hold her for long, but it was good for a little while.
I held her down with my hand on the belt holding her arms together behind her back. She struggled, but was already tiring herself out. All of her movement had made her skirt ride up, and so I pulled it up some more so that I saw her blue pantied bottom. She tried to kick at me, but I pinned her legs to the couch with my knees.
“You’re a little pain in the ass, you know that?” I grunted as I pulled her back upstanding, put my arms around her, and picked her up.
I carried her squirming, kicking body around the couch, and threw her down on it face first so that she was laying on it, then I reached over to the other side of the couch and got the little box I’d set up just for this.
She wiggled back and forth, and my belt was coming off, but I got some rope out of the box and was able to make a quick little tie around her wrists. She was furious and actually kicked me once in the stomach as I went to grab her legs and tie them together with another bit of rope. It didn’t really hurt, and I laughed as she looked back at me.
Every time she broke the little game, even with the smallest inauthentic look in her eyes, it made me oddly giddy. I guess I needed the little reminders that it was all a game, or maybe the reminder of how much she wanted it to seem real but was unable to. It all just made me want to do all of these dirty things to her harder.
When she was tied, I looked down at the blue panties again. Her white skin was like a canvas. My heart was racing, and my face was flushed. I took her hair in one hand and slapped her ass for the first time. She yelled into the couch, making muffled and pretty sounds. I spanked her again and again, her skin cold from being outside in the car for so long. Each time my hand landed, the skin was warmer. My hand marks were bright red, each finger visible.
When I stopped, she was panting loud and fast against the cushions. I put my hand on her now hot ass and lifted it quickly. She braced for the blow, and I just laughed. I stopped laughing and took a breath, and she tensed again, sure that this would be another volley, but I just laughed more. Then, finally, I spanked her when she seemed the least expecting.
She finally lifted her ass up, making pleading yelps and arching her back, trying to escape my hand. I let up and stroked her warm red skin.
“You hate this, hm?” I whispered down at her ear.
“I mean, there’s no way you’re enjoying this,” I continued, my fingers moving down her ass to her thighs. As my fingers crept towards her cunt she clenched her legs.
“Nooo!” she whined, but it was too late.
The baby blue panties were navy at the crotch with her wetness. I laughed as I rubbed the fabric against her sex. She sobbed “no” again and again, but I kept rubbing. She was moving her bottom away from my hand, but it was no use. I slipped a finger under the cotton and found very short, but soft hair that was deliciously wet.
Suddenly she let out a yell and bucked her hips away from me, and started struggling hard and fast, falling off the couch for a moment. I pulled her back on the couch and got on top of her, kneeling on each side of her legs.
I grabbed her hair again with one hand, and this anger filled me. I spanked her once hard and then grabbed those panties and pulled as hard as I could with one quick rush of energy. The cotton ripped instantly, though they didn’t come off. She cried out and tried to get away, but I was sitting on her legs. I pulled more of her panties off, finally getting the crotch to rip so that her sex was exposed.
I unzipped my pants, and she started squealing and trying to pull herself away by her elbows. I took out my cock, which was sore from being achingly hard for so long in my pants. I pulled a condom from my pocket and opened it, pulling the slippery thing out and rolling it onto my cock.
“Don’t, Jack, don’t,” she said, her eye-catching mine as she turned her head.
Her eyes were red, and her cheeks were wet. She looked me in the eyes for only the tiniest of second and then looked away and said “no” again. She couldn’t look at me. I knew it. She couldn’t see me. She wanted me to be the attacker. She wanted me to be the rapist.
“Shut the fuck up, you fucking cunt,” I said in a low hard voice.
I slapped her in the back of the head and grabbed her hair. I leaned down and whispered into her ear. “You better fucking shut up.”
I pressed down against her, her back arching and her ass pushing up. I felt the heat of her cunt against me, and I moved against her, I held my cock in one hand, and her hair in the other, and I pushed it forward, finding the slickness of her wetness, and then I pushed into her.
I was inside of her, and she was bucking against me.
“No, no, no!” it wasn’t a cry of alarm anymore. It was her mantra.
The angle wasn’t working. I got up roughly, slipping out of her. I looked down at her panting, mostly clothed body. I pulled off my shoes and pants and reached down, and picked her up. I carried her in my arms the short distance and deposited her on my bed. She struggled, but was too tired and overwhelmed to do more than wiggle around. I pushed up her shirt and pulled down the cups of her bra enough to get her breasts out a bit. I sucked on her nipples which were smallish and pink.
I laughed as I sucked them because she couldn’t hold in a loud moan as I sucked them and twirled my tongue around them. I felt her tits roughly and then spanked each on a few times. She winced, and her eyes rolled back. I slapped them more and then slapped her across the face.
“Come on, you fucking slut. Where’d the fight go?” I goaded.
She glared at me with the fire I saw before, and she let out an animal-like growl.
I laughed more, right in her face. Then I pushed her bound legs up so that her knees almost touched her face, and I moved my cock back to her cunt, and it slipped in like there were magnets connecting our sexes. She was soaked to the middle of her thighs. I pushed in hard and grabbed her hips, and fucked her that way. Both of her ankles resting on one of my shoulders as I slammed into her hard and fast, the whole bed moving.
She was moaning and grunting with every thrust and mumbling little things I couldn’t make out, and then everything was going faster, and my heart was pounding in my ears.
She came first, hard. So hard, her muscles clenched tight. I kept fucking her. I felt my orgasm starting somewhere inside of my stomach. I felt it coming. Then she tensed again and let out a “fuck”, and her muscles clutched so tight she pushed me right out of her cunt.
I quickly repositioned myself, grabbing my cock, which was soaked, and pushing it back just in time for me to start coming. I pushed in hard and tried to hold on to her hips. My body was failing, the intensity was taking over, and all I could do was push into her and scream as I came and came.
Then there was only panting.
She was limp like a rag doll as I untied her. Her whole demeanor had changed completely. She was quiet, docile, almost sad-looking. I started to worry. She looked up and gave me a crooked little smile.
“Wow,” she said, blinking.
I broke into a different laugh, my real laugh, I fell into her arms, and she curled up against me, and we kissed softly. I looked into her eyes, and she looked into mine. We communicated a lot in a few seconds of staring. Then I pulled off her clothes, and she pulled off the rest of mine, and we slipped under the blankets and didn’t say a word. We just kissed, and I soothed her, and we just enjoyed the lingering electricity of our second date.