Author's note: Once again, given the peculiar nature of the subject matter, this story warrants a special disclaimer. This is a fantasy, not a manifesto. As famous erotica author All These Roadworks usually puts it, "my kinks are not my politics". Do not use this story to promote a political worldview.
Rape and sexual assaults are incredibly serious subject matters. Counterphobic sexual fantasies can be therapeutic, but fantasies are not reality. Practice your relational life consensually, or not at all.
It doesn't mean anything.
It's just a blowjob. Many women give plenty of blowjobs all the time, and this doesn't have to be any different, any more complicated than that. I'll just go down on him and get it over with quickly. One and done, and then I'll put it behind me, forget about it. Because it certainly doesn't mean anything.
So why is my heart pounding faster and faster?
"Strip."
It's just one word, but it drives the wind out of me like a punch to the gut. Strip, why strip? I don't need to do that if all he wants is a blowjob. That doesn't make sense. There's a logical error somewhere.
Somewhere...
"Listen, Alara, this is simple," Deniz says, and I can't stand how calm he is. His demeanor is smug, and he has an aura of confidence that contrasts so much against his physique, way less fit compared to mine.
He's even shorter than I am. He's the type of man I should be able to easily intimidate, to put back in his place. And yet...
He's winning.
"How do you think they'll punish you if I bring the evidence of your cheating to the faculty?" Deniz muses, as if he's really evaluating different scenarios. "Probation? A fine?" Then, he theatrically slaps a hand against his forehead. "Oh, no, that's right! You'd be expelled!"
Cold sweat runs down my spine.
"Alternatively," Deniz says, slowly, softly, "you could make this very simple for yourself, Alara. I won't show them anything. But you have to give me what I want. Strip... and kneel."
It's only a blowjob, I tell myself, exhaling. I'll do it, it'll buy me his silence, and it will be done. It doesn't mean anything.
Slowly, resignedly, I peel off my clothes until I'm bare before him. I lower myself to my knees, keeping my eyes downcast, but the worst part is...
It's hard not to attach meaning to this gesture. This visual demotion. Being on my knees, beneath a guy I could beat up so easily. Up until now, I was standing and he was sitting on the bed, but now he'll look down on me, and I'll look up... a humbled female, who thought hours of toil and sweat at the gym would make her strong enough to defend herself.
I really thought my muscles would keep me safe from the predatory instincts of men, but now...
