Categories > Original > Romance > Baby, I'm Not Your Enemy
WARING! There is RAPE within this chapter. I do not condone this act.
"Hey, hey, don't cry. My name's Barry, what's yours?" This is the second time I've heard him speak, and the first time I have heard him speak in a normal voice. His voice is deep, coarse, and gravelly, but it fits him. I feel fingers on the rope between my wrists, untying the coarse bonding that has been rubbing my wrists raw.
"Brad." I mumble into my knees. I feel a strong hand pull my chin up, forcing me to look at him. His rich, olive green eyes are serious.
"Look at me when I'm speaking to you." He says sternly. Well, I guess I just learned rule number 1. Then his lips are on mine, soft, sweet, and gentle. "I can be gentle, soft, and sweet." He mumbles, another soft kiss being pressed to my lips after every word. Then his kisses are rougher, sloppy, and forceful, his hand tightening on jaw, "Or I can be rough, harsh, and cruel." Yet again each word is punctuated with a kiss, these ones bruising and harsh. "It all depends on how you act. Don't struggle and be a good boy, you'll be rewarded. Fight me and you'll be punished. Understood?" His voice is stern again, his fingers relaxing.
"Yes sir." I say softly, and his fingers pull away from my chin.
"Good. How old are you?" His voice is back to being gentle and I wonder how his mood can change so quickly. I bite my lip gently before answering, wondering if I should lie.
"18." I mumble, letting my head drop again. I feel fingers pulling my head back up to look at him.
"You're young. Younger than I thought." He says, his words slipping smoothly from his lips. He lets go of my head, and turns away. I can tell that he's thinking. The rest of the ride is spent in silence, both of us deep in thought.
I feel the car jerk to a stop, and I know that the ride is over. Barry opens the door, climbing out with such grace that seems unnatural for the way he's built. His hand closes around my arm, pulling me out of the car with him. I make a split second decision and pull away, darting away from him.
My blood is pounding in my ears as I run, trying to put as much space between me and him as possible. Then strong arms wrap around me from behind, picking me up while I kick at the person behind me.
"You know, I really didn't want to have to hurt you. But, you were an idiot and decided to run, and I can't let that go unpunished." Comes the whisper into my ear. He sighs and carries my kicking form into a house that I don't even bother looking at. Once we're through the door, I stop kicking, stop struggling, because I know it's no use.
I feel myself being carried down to the basement, where I'm dumped on the floor for a second. He's back and standing over me soon, pulling me to my feet and hooking a handcuff over one wrist, pulling the other side through a hoop on the ceiling before hooking it onto my other wrist, forcing me to stand on my toes to avoid the feeling of my arms being ripped out of their sockets. He moves behind me, and I can hear him undoing his belt. A small whimper makes it's way from my throat. He sighs again, and a piece of cloth is forced between my teeth, and tied at the back of my head.
The first hit of the belt across my back causes me to scream from shock and pain, my arms pulling my body completely off the floor for a second. He gives me a second to catch my breath as tears stream down my face, and then the belt cracks over my back again. I cry out again, the sound muffled by the gag. I screw my eyes shut and try to block out the pain, feeling the sharp sting of yet another strike. The next few come in quick succession, making their way across my thighs as well as my back.
After a few minutes, the strikes die down, and his hand is gently rubbing my back. Tears still stream down my face. His fingers undo the knot of the gag, and two press against my lips. "Suck." He whispers. My lips parts slightly and he pushes his fingers in, my tongue slips over them, coating them in saliva. Nimble fingers fumble with the pants I'm wearing, pushing them down, letting them fall in a heap at my feet, revealing that I'm not wearing any underwear.
The fingers are pulled from my lips, and I know what's coming next. One spit covered finger slips into my entrance, and I whimper at the invasion. "Be quiet and stop complaining. I don't have to prepare you. I could just shove in, and make it hurt real bad." He growls. I bite my trembling lower lip, and try to keep quiet. Another finger slides in, and I hold back my whimper of pain. He scissors the fingers inside me, and the whimper finally slips through, along with more tears. The big man moves around in front of me, his mohawk making him look all the more intimidating, and slaps me across the face. The olive eyes in front of me tell a different story, though, that he doesn't really want to hurt me, but he has to.
He moves back around me, and his hands rest on my hips. Lips find my throat and suck at it, distracting me. What I hadn't realized was that he had already undone his pants, pulling himself out. His hands suddenly pull my hips back, forcing me onto his length. I squirm against him and scream out from the pain, my vision nearly blacking over. The pain radiating through my body isn't even the worst part, that's the cruel laughter ringing in my ears. Rough thrusts make my insides feel as though they're ripping apart.
I don't know how much time passes before he thrust all the way in, his lips finding my bare shoulder and biting down, and holds himself still. My body has long since gone numb from the pain, and all I can register is him finally pulling out, and undoing the handcuffs, letting me drop in a heap to the floor. I hear him leave the basement before I lose consciousness from the pain.
Some time later, I'm half conscious when I feel strong arms picking me up and carrying me up two flights of stairs. I'm placed on my side on a bed and covers are wrapped around my sore body, a voice drifts into my hearing, "I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you like that, but I had to. I just hope that I never have to do that to you again." A kiss is lightly placed to my temple, and then I lose what little consciousness I have.
"Hey, hey, don't cry. My name's Barry, what's yours?" This is the second time I've heard him speak, and the first time I have heard him speak in a normal voice. His voice is deep, coarse, and gravelly, but it fits him. I feel fingers on the rope between my wrists, untying the coarse bonding that has been rubbing my wrists raw.
"Brad." I mumble into my knees. I feel a strong hand pull my chin up, forcing me to look at him. His rich, olive green eyes are serious.
"Look at me when I'm speaking to you." He says sternly. Well, I guess I just learned rule number 1. Then his lips are on mine, soft, sweet, and gentle. "I can be gentle, soft, and sweet." He mumbles, another soft kiss being pressed to my lips after every word. Then his kisses are rougher, sloppy, and forceful, his hand tightening on jaw, "Or I can be rough, harsh, and cruel." Yet again each word is punctuated with a kiss, these ones bruising and harsh. "It all depends on how you act. Don't struggle and be a good boy, you'll be rewarded. Fight me and you'll be punished. Understood?" His voice is stern again, his fingers relaxing.
"Yes sir." I say softly, and his fingers pull away from my chin.
"Good. How old are you?" His voice is back to being gentle and I wonder how his mood can change so quickly. I bite my lip gently before answering, wondering if I should lie.
"18." I mumble, letting my head drop again. I feel fingers pulling my head back up to look at him.
"You're young. Younger than I thought." He says, his words slipping smoothly from his lips. He lets go of my head, and turns away. I can tell that he's thinking. The rest of the ride is spent in silence, both of us deep in thought.
I feel the car jerk to a stop, and I know that the ride is over. Barry opens the door, climbing out with such grace that seems unnatural for the way he's built. His hand closes around my arm, pulling me out of the car with him. I make a split second decision and pull away, darting away from him.
My blood is pounding in my ears as I run, trying to put as much space between me and him as possible. Then strong arms wrap around me from behind, picking me up while I kick at the person behind me.
"You know, I really didn't want to have to hurt you. But, you were an idiot and decided to run, and I can't let that go unpunished." Comes the whisper into my ear. He sighs and carries my kicking form into a house that I don't even bother looking at. Once we're through the door, I stop kicking, stop struggling, because I know it's no use.
I feel myself being carried down to the basement, where I'm dumped on the floor for a second. He's back and standing over me soon, pulling me to my feet and hooking a handcuff over one wrist, pulling the other side through a hoop on the ceiling before hooking it onto my other wrist, forcing me to stand on my toes to avoid the feeling of my arms being ripped out of their sockets. He moves behind me, and I can hear him undoing his belt. A small whimper makes it's way from my throat. He sighs again, and a piece of cloth is forced between my teeth, and tied at the back of my head.
The first hit of the belt across my back causes me to scream from shock and pain, my arms pulling my body completely off the floor for a second. He gives me a second to catch my breath as tears stream down my face, and then the belt cracks over my back again. I cry out again, the sound muffled by the gag. I screw my eyes shut and try to block out the pain, feeling the sharp sting of yet another strike. The next few come in quick succession, making their way across my thighs as well as my back.
After a few minutes, the strikes die down, and his hand is gently rubbing my back. Tears still stream down my face. His fingers undo the knot of the gag, and two press against my lips. "Suck." He whispers. My lips parts slightly and he pushes his fingers in, my tongue slips over them, coating them in saliva. Nimble fingers fumble with the pants I'm wearing, pushing them down, letting them fall in a heap at my feet, revealing that I'm not wearing any underwear.
The fingers are pulled from my lips, and I know what's coming next. One spit covered finger slips into my entrance, and I whimper at the invasion. "Be quiet and stop complaining. I don't have to prepare you. I could just shove in, and make it hurt real bad." He growls. I bite my trembling lower lip, and try to keep quiet. Another finger slides in, and I hold back my whimper of pain. He scissors the fingers inside me, and the whimper finally slips through, along with more tears. The big man moves around in front of me, his mohawk making him look all the more intimidating, and slaps me across the face. The olive eyes in front of me tell a different story, though, that he doesn't really want to hurt me, but he has to.
He moves back around me, and his hands rest on my hips. Lips find my throat and suck at it, distracting me. What I hadn't realized was that he had already undone his pants, pulling himself out. His hands suddenly pull my hips back, forcing me onto his length. I squirm against him and scream out from the pain, my vision nearly blacking over. The pain radiating through my body isn't even the worst part, that's the cruel laughter ringing in my ears. Rough thrusts make my insides feel as though they're ripping apart.
I don't know how much time passes before he thrust all the way in, his lips finding my bare shoulder and biting down, and holds himself still. My body has long since gone numb from the pain, and all I can register is him finally pulling out, and undoing the handcuffs, letting me drop in a heap to the floor. I hear him leave the basement before I lose consciousness from the pain.
Some time later, I'm half conscious when I feel strong arms picking me up and carrying me up two flights of stairs. I'm placed on my side on a bed and covers are wrapped around my sore body, a voice drifts into my hearing, "I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you like that, but I had to. I just hope that I never have to do that to you again." A kiss is lightly placed to my temple, and then I lose what little consciousness I have.
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