You told me to stay home. You told me to keep the doors locked. You told me not to walk around in my little skirts with the windows open.
I told you I am big. I told you I need to feel the sun on my skin. I told you I am always careful.
I told you to let me go. You laughed. It's a scary laugh as I wake up on my blanket in the sun, with you kneeling beside me. Knife to my throat, I feel the cold hard blade dragging across my skin. Not cutting, not yet. Not if I do as you say, you tell me. The knife is a very effective way to control me, fear paralyzing me, making it impossible for me to struggle.
Your other hand slides down my back, gently caressing. If I didn't know you, I'd think you wanted to make me feel good. The knife makes me think you want to feel good, and you will. No matter what I say.
You tell me that you have been watching, and waiting. You've seen my play with my pussy when I thought I was all alone. You've seen that I caress my pussy lips, sliding a finger inside. Teasing, it feels good, but not satisfying. Like candy, it's enjoyable, but not satiating.
Today, today I will learn what it's like to get fucked. To cum. What a man feels like when he unloads inside of me. He tells me that it doesn't have to hurt, but it will because that makes him happy.
Roughly rolled over he pushes himself on top of me. His strong legs spread mine. He runs his knife down the front of my shirt. Popping the buttons as he goes. Exposing me and making me more accessible to his torments.
The knife drawing light lines across my breasts, scratching and making them welt up. The blade circles my nipple, then pokes until a single drop of blood rises to the surface. He kisses it away, sighing with pleasure. My nipples harden, I get wetter, but I'm not enjoying this. I'm not.
