I jumped and grabbed a pillow to cover myself as the front door opened. It was Jack, my roommate and a couple of his friends. They had left several hours before for a boys night out and had left me the apartment alone for the first since I could remember when. Having the evening off, I had decided to dress it down; change into a t-shirt and undies, pop in a girly flick and enjoy some hot-buttered popcorn. I guess I got too relaxed, and passed out on the couch. Now I had to sit through Jack and his cute friends seeing me at my worst. Not that it mattered, none of them would ever have dated me. I didn't seem to register on their radar, unless they needed help with a chemistry assignment. Still, a girl can dream... Can't she?
"Hey Ashleigh, you enjoy your evening?" Jack asked as I walked in. He didn't seem to care that I was half naked, or didn't notice. I don't know which would have been worse, but that didn't ease the embarrassment. "We're going out on the patio, if you want to join us for a beer."
"No thanks, I was just about to go to bed anyway." I replied. I wasn't, and would have enjoyed going out to drink with them if all of the neighbors didn't have a perfect view up my shirt when I was out on the balcony. I grabbed the pillow and stumbled through the crowd on my way to my room.
"Well, it's an open invitation if you're interested." He replied.
I turned around to thank him and walked straight into his friend, Art.
"Don't wanna hang out with the big boys, huh?" He said in a deep, rough voice. Art was huge. A lineman for the high school football team, Art was currently a bouncer at the club Jack liked to frequent. He used to work construction, which had accounted for several (but not all) of the scars that were scattered around his body. He was a man; strong and scary. It wasn't attractive, so much... but dangerous and furtive. God only knew what he could physically do to you.
"Uh... no..." I meeked out as I looked up at him. He must have been over 6'6" as his head was barely beneath the door jamb. "Thanks though."
"Well, maybe we'll bring the party to you." He said as he smiled a luggish grin.
"Yeah... um... ok." I replied. He laughed back, and let me pass. I peered back at him as I closed the door to my room. What a monster! I thought.
On any other night (and practically every other night) I would lay down to one of my romance novels, read through a few chapters, masterbate and go to sleep. I didn't have a boyfriend, and wasn't about to go around and start sleeping with random guys, and so I had to settle for lesser pleasures. Tonight I wouldn't even do that, as I was too embarrassed. I laid down, and closed my eyes.
I awoke to one of the boys laying in bed against my back. I opened my eyes, astonished and angry... but stayed silent. I didn't know what to do. What could I say? I was still virtually naked! I laid quietly for a moment to consider my options. I was terrified!
Seconds later I felt Art's meaty palm running up and down my arm. He was arched up on his elbow and looking down at me, feeling my frail frame beneath him. I tried to act as though I was just waking up.
"Jack? Art? Who is that?" I asked, groggily. "What are you doing?"
"Just making sure you're ok." Art's voice returned strong and vocal.
"I'm ok." I returned, unable to think of anything else to say.
"I can see that." He said. He ran his hand past my wrist to my leg, and slid it up my side and just beneath my shirt. I shook in fear as he did.
"Art, stop it!" I said, shivering. "Don't do that!" I tried to turn around to face him but his hand caught my arm and turned me over onto my stomach in one single, elegant motion. Despite his holding back the force that surely waited in those strong arms, he was able to move my entire body with little more than a flick of the wrist. "Art!"
"No Ashleigh, you listen to me." He said confidently; his voice gave way to neither disdain or compassion. "Tonight, you are mine."
"What?"
"You heard me."
"No, Art..."
"What are you tonight?"
"Art, please!"
"What are you tonight?!" I paused a moment, my body trembling under he pressure of his single hand. The other had began to caress my back, almost lovingly. It would have been soothing, under different circumstances.
"I'm... yours." My voice cracked. I had begun to resolve that this would be a terrifying evening.
"That's right. And tonight we are going to do things my way. Do you understand?"
"Art?"
"Do You!" He said as his hand slid up the back of my neck and settled itself under my hair at the base of my skull. The motion spoke volumes; with a simple squeezing of his hand he would be able to control my entire body. I didn't know if he would bury my face in the pillow, or break my neck, or squeeze my head in its entirety and squish my brains into a paste.
"I... I understand." I said, sheepishly resigned. "Art?"
"Yes?" He said as he ran his hand through my hair and shifted his weight around on the bed.
"Please don't hurt me."
Art didn't reply. He had taken off his shorts and had cast them to the floor. His single hand still held my wrists to the bed, the other now worked to slide my panties off around my ankles. It amazed me that he was able to hold my wrists above my head and slide my panties off my ankles at once; he had a tremendous wingspan.
Art ran his hand up the back of my leg and under my shirt to my shoulder, then back down. He seemed to enjoy feeling me. Had he asked my permission, I would have enjoyed it too.
I felt his grip around my knee. It pried my legs apart. My natural reaction was to clamp them shut, trying to evade the inevitable.
"Ashleigh... we are doing things my way tonight."
He persisted to spread my knees apart. I let go. Fighting him would only ensure my own demise.
With my legs spread out across the mattress he let his hand wind up to my exposed crotch. He inspected it vigorously; his fingers running themselves softly across every tissue. I cringed, again. I knew that this would be the best part of the night; that the tingling feeling generated by his finger across my labia would soon turn to the horrific pain of tearing flesh. I tried to enjoy what I could.
"How long has it been?" He asked as a finger slid inside of me.
