by R Holmes
Without another word, she squares her shoulders, and reaches into the waistband of my briefs. The soft, warm brush of her fingers over the skin of my bare dick is enough to almost cause me to groan out loud. This is supposed to be about power. Making her submit. Punishment for her wrong doings, but somewhere along the way, the line has become hazy.
I don't take my eyes off of her as she takes my dick into her hand, hesitantly, then drags her eyes back up to meet mine. She takes me into her fist and squeezes tightly.
"Try anything with my dick in your hand and I'll have the dean on speed dial before you can even blink, little lamb. Everyone at St. Augustine will know what a little slut you're being in here on your knees."
I know she's thought of it. I would've too.
"Here's how this is going to go. You're going to suck my cock, like the good little whore you are, and then you're going to leave. With my cum on your lips, my face in your nightmares, and an insatiable fucking ache between your thighs that no one but me could ever quench." I bring my thumb to rub along her bottom lip. Dragging it across the sensitive flesh and dipping inside her mouth until it's flat against her tongue.
"Suck."
She does as she's told without being told twice, and sucks my thumb deep into her warm, wet mouth. I push back farther until she gags around it.
"Consider this your lesson; now you know what you're doing."
Glaring up at me, she pulls my dick out of my briefs and I push them further down my hips until they're down to my knees, along with my jeans. She finally looks down at my cock and her eyes bulge out of her head.
"I… That… I can't fit your…” she stutters “…into my mouth. Your dick is pierced!"
"Wrap your lips around my cock, Valentina. The piercing does not prevent you from putting me down your throat," I tell her, pushing her head toward my cock. I'm tired of talking. I'm tired of giving her time she doesn't deserve.
I take my cock into my hand—it’s so hard it fucking hurts—and rub it around her lips that are tightly closed. Slowly, she opens her mouth and takes my head into her mouth. Torturously fucking slow, she slides her lips down my cock. The soft, velvet touch of her tongue rubs against the sensitive spot around my head, dancing over the barbell of my frenum piercing, and this time I do groan.
She stills, removing her mouth from me.
"I'm sorry… I… I've never done this."
"Stop talking."
I lift her off the bed, and walk backward until the back of my knees hit the plush chair situated in the corner of the room. I fall back into the chair, bringing her with me, tucking her between my legs. I'm fucking impossibly hard, and I want her mouth on my dick before the little amount of patience I've awarded her is gone.
She makes no move to grab me again until she sees the look in my eyes, a mixture of horny and murderous, one more than the other.
Her lips wrap around my head and she sucks, then brings her fist to wrap around me. I thread my fingers in her hair, and push her down on my cock until I feel the warm flesh of the back of her throat. It feels like heaven, if it was an actual fucking place to go.
A sin worthy of a thousand deaths. I'd gladly burn for this.
"Remember this, little lamb, tonight… when you're tucked away in the false sense of safety of your dorm room. Whenever no one is around. You slip your fingers into the cotton of your panties, and you think about me while you fuck yourself."
With that, I use both hands to wrap around the hair against the nape of her neck, and I shove my cock down her throat. She gags when I hit the back of her throat, but she tries to take me all of the way. Over and over, I fuck her throat, until she's gagging on my cock.
"You like my cock down your throat, don't you, Valentina?" I pull her off my cock and stand, leaving her on her knees before me.
It's the most beautiful fucking sight I've ever seen. Mascara runs down her face in a messy trail of tears, saliva coats her mouth and runs down her chin from taking me down her throat over and over. I guide my cock back into her mouth and squeeze my eyes shut when I hit the back of her throat again. My hands find her hair once more, and I'm thrusting harder into her mouth until I'm fucking her throat. Every time she gags against my cock, it makes me harder, sends me closer to the edge. She tries to pull away when I go too deep, but I shove her back down on my cock, not letting up even when she heaves around me.
When I feel the familiar tingle at the base of my spine, I know I'm about to come. I pull her off my dick and she sits back on her thighs. I wrap my hand around my cock and come on her face. I come until I'm spent, and cum coats her cheeks, her chin, her lips. She looks up at me through mascara-stained cheeks, eyes full of tears from having my cock down her throat.
"I hope you remember what this feels like, Valentina. Because from this moment on, the only person who will ever fucking touch you is me. No one will come within ten feet of you. You’ve been ruined by me. Welcome to hell, little lamb.”
If I thought Rhys was done with me after the night at the Abbey, I was grossly mistaken. This week has been nothing short of hell. While he hasn't cornered me or forced me into something vile, he has been everywhere I've turned. Small, insignificant things to some, but it’s chipped away at my resolve each time.
When I was working in the admin office, filing paperwork, he locked me in the filing room for over an hour, until finally someone heard me beating on the door until my fists were sore and bruised, and let me out. I was so angry I accidentally cursed in front of Sister Agnes and then she made me polish the pews in the chapel all evening afterward. If that wasn't enough, the next morning while walking to class, Mara tripped me in front of everyone, causing all of my books to go flying. I was at the end of my rope.
Thankfully, Rory came over with copious amounts of junk food and we watched Thirteen until we passed out in a food coma.
By Wednesday, I'd had enough of his shit, and it was only just beginning. The assignment I turned in for English literature for our thesis, which of course he didn't even attempt to participate in, got a C. The first C I've ever had in my entire life, and I spent the entire evening crying in my dorm, trying to formulate some type of plan to get out of working with him. Thursday came, and went. Mostly quiet, as I heard he went to visit Ezra in jail and was excused. Why he gets the special treatment he does, I don't understand.
Thankfully, his bullying was not of the sexual nature and he did his best to avoid any personal contact with me. Which is perfectly fine for me, because the night at the Abbey was the most embarrassing, degrading, disgusting thing that's ever happened to me. What's even worse… is I can't stop thinking about it. Him. What we did in that bedroom. I think about it when I'm alone, in my bed, just as he said I would. It's shameful. I know it's wrong, but I can't stop. I hate myself for the thoughts I keep having. What kind of person is attracted to someone as evil as Rhys Blackwood? Someone who’s just as messed-up as he is, that’s who.
The library is quiet and deserted, which is to be expected when it’s well after midnight on a Saturday. Exactly one week since I was alone with Rhys. It seemed like life was going back to normal. I was back to being a nobody and everyone was at the Abbey partying while I studied my life away. A pang of jealousy hits my gut full force. I’m not like most of the girls at St. Augustine, having everything and more within arm’s reach. If they fail a class, daddy dearest only has to make one phone call to the headmaster and suddenly they have an A-plus. They’ve never had to lift a finger for anything in their lives. That’s what happens when your family's name is on the side of the school. But for people like me? We have to work for it. We have to sacrifice and study until we pass out on our books in front of us. We aren’t afforded the same luxuries. But, as fleeting as the jealousy is, it’s gone. Because at the end of the day, I know I worked for everything I have. My degree, my valedictorian status. My GPA. I didn’t spend my nights at a party, I didn’t cheat or lie to get the grade I needed. I did it all with unbelievably hard work I have sacrificed e
verything for.
Things went too far last week. I should turn him in, I should do so many things but I'm too afraid of what telling the truth will do for my future. There's so much at stake. My college career could go up in flames if he's telling the truth, if there really is some video of our last altercation. Harvard won't stop to ask questions on what really happened; they'll blacklist me simply because a potential student of theirs is caught up in any kind of scandal.
People who attend an Ivy League school as prestigious as Harvard don't get second chances, and I can't let my future be ripped away from me because of a video. There was nothing I could do to stop him, I’m completely helpless and wholly at his mercy.
It's not like I want to spend every free moment I have with my head buried in a textbook, there are plenty of other things I would prefer to be doing, but if I slack, then I could lose my one and only shot at Harvard. I pull up the PowerPoint the teacher assigned us in class earlier today on my iPad and quickly tap through the first few slides, taking notes as I go when I hear a quiet thud from the other side of the library.
I immediately get up from the table and grab my phone. After the last time I was in the library alone, I'm permanently on edge and anxious. I make sure to have my phone charged and close in case I need it. A sliver of protection that gives me the smallest sense of security. The only reason I'm even here tonight and not in my dorm is because my neighbor has a penchant for late night sex with freshmen and my grades seriously can't afford to suffer because of it. I asked her if there was any way she could possibly find anywhere else to "hang out" and she called me a prude and told me to fuck off. I can’t help it if she’s so loud I can hear every single thing through the thin walls of the dorm. Not to mention the bed hits the wall so hard, it knocked off my floating shelf, almost causing me sudden death. So, there went our conversation, and now I'm here. In the one place I'd prefer to never be alone in again, just to be able to have a quiet place to study.
Except now, my quiet place is tainted with the darkness that is Rhys Blackwood. Everything he touches turns to a charred, ruined mess. The places I once felt comfortable and safe are now the places I dread to step foot inside. The library, the hallways, class whenever I’m the first one to arrive. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder for him, aware of how he can strike at any time. This isn’t just apprehension, this is full on paranoia. Before walking into the library tonight, I took a deep breath and reminded myself being afraid is only giving Rhys more ammunition for his arsenal, and I refuse to give him anything more than he's already taken. It’s a mantra I’ve adapted over the past several days and the only thing keeping the anxiety somewhat at bay.
"Who's there?" I call out. The shelves surrounding me are dark, only illuminated by the pale glow of moonlight that shines through the large stained glass windows along the wall. I hear nothing more, but a sense of foreboding settles deep into my bones and I want to flee on instinct. You know the feeling in the pit of your stomach that tells you when things go wrong? Listen to that feeling because it's very rarely ever wrong. The feeling in my stomach told me to run and not to look back.
Another thud, this time closer.
I haven't heard from Rhys in a week. Is he back for more of his fucked-up version of punishing me?
My heartbeat races inside my chest. A furious thud against my delicate rib cage, like it might burst through at any moment.
I can't see past the stark darkness of shadows between the shelves. Everything is black. It's what lies in wait beyond those shadows that causes the uneasy fear in the depth of my stomach. I hurriedly put all of my things back into my backpack, not worrying in the slightest about putting things in there neatly or organized. Before I can shove the last of my things into my backpack, a tall, dark figure steps out from the blanket of darkness.
I abandon my notebook on the table and grab my bag, slinging it over my shoulder, and I run. I don't wait to be caught, I run before I'm once again the victim in a situation I never wanted to be in. My calves burn as I run to the exit door. I hear them behind me, but I don't look back. I don't pause. I don't stop.
I make it to the second to last shelf before I feel a pair of arms wrap around me and jerk me backward. My backpack is thrown off somewhere behind me in the scuffle, but I don't stop fighting to worry about it. I thrash and kick, and I’m about to scream when a warm, strong hand clamps over my mouth, silencing me.
"Calm the fuck down."
Rhys. Of course. I should have known only someone as psychotic as him would try and kidnap me in the library.
Not once, but twice.
I thrash under his hold, trying to break free to no avail. He just holds me tighter, and after a few painstakingly silent, tense minutes, he releases his hand from my mouth.
"What's wrong, little lamb, I thought you loved your precious library?"
"That's before I was assaulted by a psychopath." I try and stomp his foot, but of course he’s a step ahead and easily sidesteps me.
"Mmm, kitten has claws tonight, I see. I like it when you fight back." His voice is low and taunting in my ear, and they send a shiver down my spine. Everything he whispers is a threat. I'm never safe when he's around. Even so, I want to fight him with every ounce of my being. I may not be outspoken or confident in life, but when it comes to him, I feel a type of fire deep inside me and it only ignites when he's near. I strain to break free from his hold and he laughs mockingly at my attempts.
I clench my jaw so tightly, my teeth might break, but I’m completely fucking trapped.
He loosens his hold around me and I feel the cold of where he was just pressed tightly against me.
"Figured I'd find you here all alone on a Saturday night." He bends down and picks up the textbook that's fallen from my bag. "European History. Hm, you know if you ever need a tutor… I've got the highest GPA in the entire class. I'm always around to help the needy, less fortunate students." He grins, and shoves the book toward me.
It hits me square in the chest and pushes me backward. He takes a step closer. For each step he takes, I take another back.
"Tell me, Valentina, does being Ms. Fucking Perfect get you off? The holier-than-thou attitude. How many times did you touch your pussy this week? Did you come around your fingers while you thought about choking on my cock?" He continues stalking forward slowly, predatorily as I've come to know of him, the snake and the mouse.
In his eyes, I'm ripe for the taking.
"Does it make your sweet pussy wet, feeling superior to all of your classmates?"
"You're disgusting. All I want is for you to leave me alone, and find some other poor innocent girl to prey on because I'm sick of your shit." My stomach revolts, but my heart quickens. There’s an unfamiliar feeling of something deep in the pit of my stomach. A featherlight touch of butterflies swirl at his filthy words.
My back hits the cold wood of the shelves, and I clutch my textbook tighter against my chest, using it as a shield. He walks closer until I feel the toe of his old, worn Vans hit my Chucks. There's something different in his eyes tonight, and I can't place it.
I can't quite put my finger on it.
He seems less intense. While he's still a sociopath with a penchant for sexually assaulting unbeknownst females, he seems more… playful tonight. It’s confusing and I can’t make sense of yet another side of Rhys Blackwood. In truth, it’s terrifying because it makes him that much more mentally unstable.
Good thing I have no plans to stick around and find out why. I have no desire to be the pawn in this game any longer.
"Can we not do this tonight? I have a final next week I have to study for. Unlike you, us average people actually have to work for the things we want."
I bend to pick up the rest of the notebooks, flashcards, and my laptop that have strewn out of my backpack on the floor. Instead, Rhys's hand finds my throat and wraps around tightly, slamming me against the bookshelf.
"You don't know a fucking thing about me, so how about you keep your fucking
mouth shut for once before spewing shit you know nothing about? Apparently choking on my cock once wasn’t enough to deter you." Gone is the light in his eyes I just thought I saw. I've obviously hit a nerve because it's been replaced by a dark, cold, unwavering version of Rhys.
"Drop the shit." His voice is cold.
My only chance of escaping here unscathed is ruined by my fucking mouth, once again. I don’t understand what I said that seemed to have flipped this switch inside of him.
"I'm not in the mood for your mouth tonight, Valentina, so do the fuck as I say. Need I remind you what it is I'm holding over your head, or that my punishment to you is nothing compared to what the fuck you caused?"
My breathing quickens, and I feel the familiar thud of my heart beating madly in my chest.
I drop the textbook onto the ground next to me and brace myself against the shelf behind me. Waiting for the snake to strike.
“Make me, Rhys. All talk, no action. Make me, asshole,” I whisper raggedly, my voice trembling. My words say one thing, yet my voice is anything but convincing. Our gazes meet and I hold my chin higher, shooting him a defiant look.
His laugh echoes throughout the library, causing me to shiver. It’s cold. Deadly. Reaching into his pocket, he produces his phone and scrolls for a moment before showing me a video. It’s him and I in the library the day he first touched me. He’s got me pinned to one of these very shelfs and I look… completely pliant and in ecstasy, while his face is buried into my neck and his hand travels up my thigh underneath the fabric of my skirt.
While the video is completely deceiving, and is not at all how the night went down, by looking at it… you’d never know. It’s damning in every shape and way and causes a wave of nausea to hit me. He has me in his grasp so tightly, I’ll never get out alive.
“One fucking click, Valentina. One click is all it takes to ruin your life. Are you really willing to find out? Are you willing to sacrifice everything for your pride and to be so fucking defiant?” He steps closer.