Schoolgirl Rape | - SexStories.App

Teasing schoolgirl gets what’s coming to her

Sorry I haven’t written in a while these things dont just happen
Also for safety this is a ‘”fictional”” story

I stayed in the deep shadows of the bleachers, my presence swallowed by the cavernous emptiness of the gym. I watched the game, but not for the sport. My eyes were on her the entire time, tracking her every movement, every frustrated sigh, every dejected slump of her shoulders. Her loss was irrelevant; it was her vulnerability that was the prize. Charlize. Just turned fifteen. The thought made my own breath catch. I heard the final buzzer, saw the team disperse, and waited. Patience was everything. I watched her sit alone, a solitary figure under the harsh lights, chewing on a pathetic little bar. I could almost taste her loneliness from across the court. It was delicious.

When she finally stood up and shouldered her bag, my pulse quickened. This was it. I moved silently, a ghost gliding along the edge of the court, staying behind the rows of stacked mats and equipment. The squeak of her cleats on the floor was my metronome, counting down the moments. I followed her down the corridor, my footsteps making no sound on the worn linoleum. I saw her push through the heavy door of the girls’ locker room.

I didn’t hesitate. I slipped through the adjacent boys’ locker room, my familiarity with the school’s layout a key advantage. I knew the narrow, seldom-used maintenance corridor that connected the two, a passage most students had forgotten existed. I moved through the darkness, my hand trailing along the cool cinderblock wall, until I reached the small, grated peephole I had discovered years ago. Positioning myself, I peered through.

I saw her drop her bag on a bench. I saw Charlize head toward the shower room. I watched her push open the door and disappear inside. The sound of the shower pipes groaning to life was my signal. I smiled to myself in the pitch-black darkness. The time was right. I began to move, my hand already on the door of the maintenance corridor, ready to step out into the empty locker room.

I waited in the darkness, the minutes stretching like taffy. The groan of the pipes died down, replaced by the rhythmic splashing of water. I stayed perfectly still, listening. Finally, the water stopped. I heard the rustle of fabric, the sound of clothes being pulled on. She was taking her time.

The door to the shower area opened, and Charlize stepped out. She was fully dressed again, wearing loose jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. She looked tired, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. She moved to the bench, shoving her uniform into her bag without a second glance.

I stepped out from the shadows of the maintenance corridor and swiftly moved to the main door, my shoes silent on the cold concrete, locking the door I turned back to her.

Alerted by something, perhaps the sou d of the lock sliding shut she jumped, spinning around, her eyes going wide. “Dex?” she blurted out, clutching her bag strap. “What the hell are you doing here? This is the girls’ locker room.”

Ignoring her, I leaned back against a row of metal lockers, I crossed my arms over my chest. Letting my eyes drag slowly over her. She might be trying to hide under that shapeless sweatshirt now, but I knew what was underneath. I remembered the way the spandex hugged her ass during the game, the way her nipples poked against the fabric when she got cold. She could cover it up all she wanted, but the message had already been sent.

“Don’t play dumb, Charlize,” I said, my voice low and steady.

She took a step back, her expression shifting from surprise to confusion. “Excuse me? I’m not playing anything. You can’t be in here. Get out.”

“You’ve been asking for this,” I said, cutting her off. I pushed off the lockers and took a slow step toward her. “Walking around like that. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

She looked down at herself, then back at me, furrowing her brow. “Like what? I’m in my sweatpants. I just finished practice, Dex. This is just… clothes.”

I scoffed, shaking my head at her little act. “Those tight little outfits you wear on the court,” I sneered, ignoring her protest. “Bending over every time you miss a shot. You think I didn’t see you? You’re practically begging for it. You think you can just turn it off because you put on a hoodie?”

Her face flushed, not with guilt, but with indignation and a rising sense of unease. “What? No, those are my uniform! It’s volleyball, Dex. It’s athletic wear. You’re being a creep. I’m telling the coach.”

“Scream all you want,” I said, taking another step, closing the distance between us. “Nobody’s here to hear you. You wore those clothes to get attention, and now you’ve got it. You were slow, Charlize. You stayed behind on purpose.” You were hoping this would happen.

She looked toward the door, then back at me, her confusion shifting into fear as she realized I wasn’t listening to reason. “No that’s not true,” she wimpered, her voice shaking, “I…I had to shower dex please let me go.”

I laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “Bullshit. You’re a tease, Charlize. A desperate little slut looking for validation wherever she can get it. A desperate little slut looking for a reaction. You think you can act innocent, but I know what you are. You’ve been waving it in my face for months.”

“I’m not,” she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes. She looked small and terrified, completely confused by the accusations being thrown at her. “I just want to go home.”

I smiled, enjoying the way she tried to make sense of my madness. She knew exactly why I was there.

“You think that little act works?” I sneered, stepping closer until I was inches from her face. I could smell the soap on her skin, clean and innocent. It made me sick. It made me want to ruin it. “You play the dumb schoolgirl, but we both know the truth. You’re nothing but a desperate little whore.”

Charlize flinched as if I’d slapped her. “Stop calling me that,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m not. You don’t know me.”

“I know you better than you know yourself,” I shot back. “I see how you prance around the hallways, shaking your ass every time you walk past the guys’ locker room. You’re a slut, Charlize. A dirty, attention-seeking slut who gets off on making guys hard.”

She was shaking her head frantically, tears streaming down her face now. “No, that’s not… I’ve never done that. I’m just trying to get to class.”

“Liar,” I hissed. I reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at me. Her skin was soft, clammy with sweat and fear. “You’re a tease. You lead them on and then act shocked when they want a taste. You’re nothing but a cocktease. A useless cum dumpster who isn’t good for anything but spreading her legs.”

She let out a choked sob, trying to pull away from my grip, but I held her fast. “Please, Dex, stop,” she begged, her voice cracking. “You’re scaring me.”

“I should scare you,” I said, my voice dropping to a dark whisper. I leaned in close, invading her personal space, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and fear. “You think I didn’t see you bending over for the coach? Wiggling that ass every time someone looked? It’s pathetic.”

Her face went pale, the flush of anger draining away to leave her looking sick. “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to….”

I stared into her wide, terrified eyes, watching the light die out of them as she realized there was no escape. She was just a piece of meat now, and she had served herself up on a silver platter. “Say it,” I commanded. “Tell me what you are.”

She just sobbed, her breath hitching in her chest. She couldn’t say it, couldn’t say anything for that matter, as she started hyperventilating.
I knew it wasn’t true, but I wanted to break her make her mine.

“Say it!” I shouted, making her jump. “Tell me you’re a slut!”

“I… I’m a slut,” she choked out, the words barely audible, broken by her tears.

“Damn right you are,” I said, a satisfied smirk twisting my lips. “And you’re finally getting exactly what you deserve.”

I leaned in closer, my grip tightening on her chin until she whimpered. Her tears were hot against my fingers, her body trembling like a leaf in the wind. Perfect. Broken already, and we hadn’t even started.

“Good girl,” I murmured, my thumb brushing roughly over her lower lip, smearing the salt of her tears. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, you’re going to show me how much of a slut you really are.”

Charlize tried to twist her head away, but I didn’t let her. Her bag slipped from her shoulder and thudded to the floor, forgotten. “Please, Dex,” she whispered, her voice raw and desperate. “Don’t do this. Darian will come looking for me. He always picks me up after late practice. He’s probably outside right now, waiting in the parking lot.”

I paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment, watching the flicker of hope ignite in her eyes. She thought that would save her. Cute.

“Your brother?” I echoed, chuckling low in my throat. The sound echoed off the lockers, cold and empty. “Dont worry about him.”

“But he’s supposed to be here any minute. If I’m not out soon, he’ll come in looking. He’ll call the cops, or… or tell everyone. Please, just let me go. I won’t say anything. I swear.”

I released her chin abruptly, letting her head snap back against the locker with a dull thud. She gasped, rubbing at the spot, but I was already moving, grabbing her by the wrist and yanking her toward the benches in the center of the room. She stumbled after me, her sneakers squeaking on the floor.

I pushed her down onto one of benches, momentarily free she scrambled back on the bench until her spine hit the edge of the next row of lockers. Her hands came up defensively, palms out. “He’ll text me soon. If I don’t answer, he’ll come inside. Dex, I’m begging you. Just stop. Think about what’ll happen if he finds us.”

I straddled the bench in front of her, trapping her legs between mine, my hands planting on either side of her hips. She was pinned, nowhere to go. Up close, I could see the freckles across her nose, the way her chest heaved with panicked breaths under that baggy sweatshirt. Innocent little thing, trying to bargain her way out.

“Beg all you want, Charlize,” I said, my voice dripping with mock sympathy as I leaned in, my breath hot against her ear. “It just makes my cock harder.” Acting quickly I grabbed her phone from the bench, as it had fallen from her pocket. She made a grab for it, asking in a panicked voice, “what are you doing.”

I started crafting a message to send to her brother, I narrated to her as I texted, loudly,”I’m sooooo sorry I forgot to tell you dex was here and offered to drive me home we might go grab something to eat first be home later.” Sending the message i quickly received a reply a simple thumbs up, I mocked her, “seems like your brother isn’t gonna save you.”

She sobbed harder, her body shaking uncontrollably. “Please… no… he’ll know something’s wrong. He always knows.”

I laughed again, darker this time, and slid one hand up under her sweatshirt, feeling the warm, soft skin of her stomach clench under my palm. She wasn’t wearing a bra, straight from the shower, still damp in places. My fingers traced higher, brushing the underside of her small breasts, thumb flicking over a nipple that hardened despite her terror.

“Keep dreaming about your knight in shining armor, baby,” I whispered, pinching that nipple hard enough to make her arch and gasp. “But right now, the only thing you’re getting is me. And you’re going to take every inch like the desperate whore you are.”

Her pleas dissolved into broken whimpers as I pulled the sweatshirt up and off, exposing her to the cold air of the locker room.

I tossed the sweatshirt onto the floor beside her bag, leaving her upper body exposed. She immediately crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hide herself, her skin prickling with goosebumps in the chilly air. The vulnerability was intoxicating. She was shivering, tears streaming down her face, looking up at me with those big, pleading eyes.

“Move your hands,” I ordered, my voice hard.

She shook her head frantically, her arms tightening against her chest. “Please, Dex,” she sobbed. “Don’t make me.”

I didn’t ask again. I grabbed her wrists and yanked them away, pinning them against the locker behind her with one hand. Her breath hitched in a terrified gasp. There she was. Her breasts were small and pale, rising and falling with her rapid, shallow breaths. She was trying to look away, to dissociate, but I wasn’t having it.

“Eyes on me,” I commanded.

She forced her gaze back to mine, her face a mask of humiliation. I let go of her wrists and reached for the waistband of her loose jeans. The button popped open with a snap that made her flinch. She squeezed her eyes shut, fresh tears leaking out.

“No… please, stop,” she whispered, but she didn’t fight back. She was too terrified, too resigned.

I worked the zipper down and grabbed the denim at her hips. I tugged, yanking the jeans down over her thighs. She lifted her hips slightly, a reflexive motion to help me get them off, which made me smirk. Even now, her body was obeying me. I dragged the jeans down her legs and pulled them off her ankles, dropping them unceremoniously onto the growing pile of her clothes.

Now she was left in just a pair of simple cotton panties. They were white, innocent, a stark contrast to the depravity of the situation. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband.

“Last chance to beg,” I taunted, looking up at her from my position between her legs.

I hate you,” she rasped, her voice ragged. “I hate you! I’ll never beg you for anything.”

I smirked, enjoying the defiance. It would be so much sweeter to break it. “We’ll see about that.”

“Just let me go,” she choked out, her voice broken. “Please.”

I ignored her. I pulled the panties down, stripping her completely naked on the bench. The cool air of the locker room hit her skin, and she shivered violently. She pressed her knees together, trying to maintain some last shred of dignity, crossing one arm over her chest while the other reached down to cover her lap.

“Much better,” I said, leaning back to admire my work. She was pale and soft, trembling in the harsh fluorescent light. “Now you look like the slut you really are.”

Her terror was a masterpiece, the way her lower lip trembled, the way her chest hitched with every shallow breath. It was a sight I needed to keep, a moment I wanted to revisit. I pulled my phone from my pocket, holding it up.

She saw the camera lens and her eyes went wide, the color draining from her face. “No! No, don’t!” she screamed, thrashing suddenly. She tried to cover herself with her hands, curling into a tight ball. “Delete it! Please, don’t take pictures!”

“Smile, Charlize,” I said, my finger tapping the screen. *Click.*

She shrieked, a high, desperate sound, and tried to knock the phone out of my hand, but I was too fast. I leaned back, snapping another photo of her frantic, naked attempt to hide. *Click.*

“Stop! You can’t have those!” she sobbed, her voice cracking. “Dex, please! That’s illegal. You can’t do that!”

“I can do whatever I want,” I said, slipping the phone back into my pocket. “Insurance. You think you can tell anyone? You think you can go to the cops? This is what they’ll see. They’ll see what a little slut you were, how you were here, naked, just for me.”

The fight drained out of her instantly, replaced by a hollow, devastating hopelessness. She slumped against the lockers, her hands dropping to her lap, covering nothing. She was broken by the realization that I owned her now. “Oh god,” she whispered, staring at the floor. “Oh god, no.”

“Much better,” I murmured, reaching out.

My hand landed on her bare thigh, and she flinched as if burned, a sharp intake of air hissing through her teeth. “Please don’t touch me,” she whimpered, shrinking away.

“Too late,” I said. I ran my hand up her leg, my fingers digging into her soft, pale flesh. She was trembling so hard it was like holding a bird with a broken wing. I slid my hand higher, pushing between her legs, forcing them apart.

“Stop… please stop,” she begged, her head falling back against the locker, her eyes squeezed shut as if she could block out the sensation. “It hurts… you’re hurting me.”

“Shh,” I whispered, leaning in close. My other hand came up to cup her breast, weighing it in my palm, squeezing roughly. She cried out, a broken sob, her hands coming up to feebly grasp my wrist, but she didn’t push. She just held on, trembling, as I groped her, my hands roaming over her naked, terrified body. I pinched her nipple, rolling it between my fingers, and she arched her back, a reflex she couldn’t control, a sob tearing from her throat.

“You’re so soft,” I murmured, biting at her neck. “So perfect. And you’re all mine.”

Her begging was getting repetitive, and I wanted to make sure I caught every second of what came next. I needed a permanent record of this, something to replay when the lights were out. I stood up, grabbing my bag from the floor where I’d dropped it earlier.

“What are you doing?” she whimpered, trying to pull her knees up to her chest, attempting to hide her nakedness from my gaze. She looked like a frightened animal, cornered and scared.

Ignoring her, I pulled out a small tripod I’d stashed in the side pocket. I set it up on the bench opposite us, positioning the phone camera to get a perfect angle of the locker room and hit record

“Smile for the camera, slut,” I said, gesturing toward the lens.

She stared at the recording phone with horror, fresh tears spilling over. “No… please, turn it off. You can’t film this. Dex, please.”

“It’s for posterity, your goingto want this someday,” I said, turning back to her. I sat down on the bench next to her again, crowding her against the lockers. “Now, we’re not quite done yet.”

She was shaking uncontrollably now, her hands fluttering over her lap, trying desperately to hide herself. “Please… just let me get dressed. I’m cold.”

“You’ll be warm soon enough,” I said. I reached down and grabbed the hem of my own shirt, pulling it up over my head.

The air in the locker room was cool against my skin, but the heat in my veins was boiling. I tossed my shirt aside, leaving my upper body bare. I watched her eyes dart over my chest and stomach, and the fear in them spiked. She knew what was coming. She knew there was nothing left between us but skin and the inevitable.

“Don’t,” she whispered, pressing herself flat against the cold metal lockers, trying to melt into them. “Please, Dex. Don’t do this.”

I leaned in, trapping her against the cold steel with my body, the heat of my skin radiating onto hers. “Time to pay up, Charlize.”

I pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, my other hand trailing down her trembling stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing coming in short, ragged gasps, terrified of where my hand was going. I didn’t stop. I slid my fingers between her legs, feeling the heat there, the tightness.

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I pushed a finger inside, hard and unrelenting. She cried out, her back arching off the bench, her body stiffening in pain.

“Stop! It hurts!” she screamed, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

I paused, frowning slightly at the resistance. She was incredibly tight, her walls clamping down on my finger like a vice. I pulled back slightly and felt the barrier, thin, intact, unbroken.

A slow, predatory smile spread across my face. I looked down at her, seeing the humiliation burning in her face. “Well, well,” I sneered. “What do we have here?”

“Please don’t,” she sobbed, turning her face away. “Just let me go.”

“You’re a virgin?” I asked, my voice dripping with mock disbelief. “Seriously?”

She didn’t answer, just squeezed her eyes shut tighter, a fresh wave of shame washing over her. It was the ultimate confirmation of her innocence. She was untouched. Pure.

“That makes this so much better,” I whispered. “I get to ruin you completely. I get to be the first one to split you open.”

“No… please,” she whimpered. “I’m saving it… I wanted it to be special.”

“It is going to be special,” I said, unbuckling my belt with a sharp clatter that made her flinch. “It’s going to be a memory you’ll never forget. I’m going to ruin you for anyone else.”

I shoved my jeans and boxers down. Her eyes fluttered open and went wide with absolute terror at the sight of me. She stared, her mouth falling open, her face draining of color. She looked paralyzed by the sight, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the sight of me.

“No! Dex, stop!” she screamed, her voice shrill with panic. “It won’t fit! You’re too big! You’ll tear me apart!”

I paused, looking down at myself. I knew I wasn’t porn star huge. I was average, normal. But the genuine terror in her eyes, the way she was trembling and staring like I was holding a weapon, was intoxicating. It just proved how innocent she really was. She had no idea what a dick looked like. To her, I was a monster.

“That’s the idea,” I growled, leaning over her.

I didn’t prepare her. I didn’t wait for her to be ready. I wanted the pain. I wanted to feel her break. I positioned myself at her entrance and thrust forward, burying myself inside her in one brutal stroke.

She screamed, a raw, guttural sound of agony that echoed through the locker room. Her back bowed off the bench, her body going rigid as a board as I tore through her innocence. I felt the resistance give way, the tight heat enveloping me as I forced myself deeper.

“God, you’re tight,” I groaned, not stopping until I was buried to the hilt.

She was sobbing uncontrollably now, her hands clawing at my shoulders, her legs kicking weakly at my sides. “It hurts! It hurts so much! Please, take it out! Dex, please!”

“Take it,” I snarled, pulling back almost all the way and slamming into her again. She cried out, her head falling back, her body limp with shock. “You asked for this. You wanted the attention. Now take every inch.”

I set a brutal pace, pounding into her without mercy. The bench squeaked and rocked with the force of my thrusts. I could feel her blood slicking me, a primal sign of what I’d taken from her. She was just a vessel now, a tight, warm hole to use as I pleased. And as I looked down at her crying, broken face, I knew I had never felt more powerful.

The fight was draining out of her, her resistance crumbling under the relentless assault. Every time I thrust into her, she let out a broken, sobbing gasp, but the frantic clawing at my shoulders stopped. Her hands, which had been pushing against my chest in desperation, fell limp to her sides, then lay motionless on the bench.

“Please… just stop,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin. But there was no force behind the words anymore. She was just repeating them out of habit, a prayer to a god who wasn’t listening.

I didn’t stop. If anything, her submission only made me want to go harder. I grabbed her hips, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass, pulling her into me to meet every thrust. “Don’t go quiet on me now,” I grunted, sweating from the exertion. “Take it.”

Her head lolled back against the locker, her eyes open but unseeing, staring up at the harsh fluorescent lights. She was dissociating, checking out, trying to escape the nightmare by leaving her body behind. It was a defense mechanism, and it was pathetic. She looked like a ragdoll, limp and pliable, just letting it happen.

“You’re nothing but a hole,” I growled, leaning down to bite at her neck again. She didn’t even flinch. “A tight, little virgin hole for me to use. Look at you, just laying there and taking it.”

She turned her face away, a single tear tracking a path through the dried salt on her cheek. She was so still now, her chest rising and falling with shallow, hitched breaths. The only movement in her body was the violent jerking I caused with every thrust. She had accepted it. She had accepted that this was her reality now.

I felt my climax building, the pressure mounting. “I’m going to fill you up,” I hissed in her ear. “And you’re going to thank me for it.”

The change in her was sudden and violent. My words hit her like a splash of ice water, shocking her out of the dissociative haze she’d slipped into.

“No!” she screamed, her eyes snapping open to reveal renewed, frantic terror. “Don’t! You can’t!”

She erupted beneath me, her body coming back to life with a surge of desperate adrenaline. She pushed against my chest with both hands, bucking her hips wildly to dislodge me. “Get off! Get off me! I’m not on the pill! Please, Dex, don’t do this!”

I grunted, annoyed by the interruption, but I held firm. I grabbed her flailing wrists and pinned them down again, leaning my full weight onto her to still her thrashing. “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” I snarled, not breaking my rhythm. The friction of her fighting only made it better.

She was sobbing hysterically, her head thrashing back and forth. “You can’t! I’ll get pregnant! You can’t do this to me! Stop, please stop!”

“Should have thought about that before you acted like such a slut,” I growled, sweat dripping from my forehead onto her chest. “Take it. Every drop.”

She tried to bring her knees up, to squeeze her legs together to trap me or push me out, but I was buried too deep. She was helpless, her struggles only tightening her around me, pushing me closer to the edge. She wasn’t lying there anymore; she was fighting for her future, and she was losing.

“Please,” she begged, her voice rising to a shriek. “I’ll suck you off! I’ll do whatever you want! Just pull out! Please!”

“Too late for bargaining,” I gritted out, feeling the pressure hit its peak. “This is happening. This is what you get.”

I slammed into her one last time, burying myself to the hilt as the orgasm tore through me. She screamed, a long, broken sound of despair, as she felt the heat of me spilling inside her, marking her, ruining her in a way she could never take back. Her body went rigid, then collapsed back against the bench, sobbing as she realized exactly what I’d done.

I pulled out of her with a satisfied groan, watching the mix of blood and my cum leaking out of her, trailing down her thighs onto the bench. She let out a broken sob, her body curling in on itself, hands going between her legs as if she could stop the aftermath.

I stood up, tucking myself back into my jeans and doing up the belt. I grabbed the phone from the tripod, killing the recording but switching it to photo mode.

“What are you doing?” she whimpered, watching me through tear-blurred eyes.

“Getting the aftermath shots,” I said, kneeling down. “Smile for the camera, Charlize.”

I zoomed in, getting a few close-ups of the mess between her legs, the evidence of her ruined innocence. She tried to turn away, covering her face with her arm, but I just kept clicking. The flash went off in the dim locker room, blinding her briefly. *Click. Click. Click.*

“Stop… please stop,” she begged, her voice raw.

“Perfect,” I said, finally lowering the phone. I slipped it into my pocket.

I reached down and grabbed her arm, yanking her up from the bench. Her legs gave out immediately, and she crumpled to the floor with a cry of pain.

“Get up,” I ordered, hauling her to her feet by her upper arm. She staggered, leaning heavily against me, unable to stand on her own. “We’re not done.”

“Where are we going?” she whispered, terrified.

I dragged her across the cold tiles, her toes scraping the floor, toward the shower room. “You’re a mess,” I said, pushing open the door. “Clean yourself up. I don’t want you walking out of here dripping all over the floor.”

I shoved her into the shower stall. She fell against the wet wall, sliding down to sit on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth.

“Wash up,” I commanded, leaning against the doorframe, watching her. “And make it quick.”

I leaned back against the doorframe, crossing my ankles, and pulled my phone out again. Her eyes, which had been staring hollowly at the drain, snapped up to me when she heard the distinct chime of the camera app starting.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head frantically, water dripping from her hair into her eyes. “Please, Dex. Haven’t you done enough? You can’t film this.”

“Who says?” I asked, hitting record and angling the lens to get a perfect shot of her curled up on the shower floor. “I’m the director here. You’re just the star.”

“I… I can’t,” she sobbed, her voice echoing off the tiles. “Don’t make me do this.”

“I said wash up,” I commanded, my voice hard. “Or I’ll come in there and scrub you down myself. And I won’t be gentle.”

The threat got through to her. She flinched and slowly, shakily, pushed herself up to her knees. She was trembling so badly she could barely stay upright. She reached out for the shower handle, turning it. The water sprayed on, instantly drenching her again. She grabbed the bar of soap sitting on the ledge, her hands fumbling as she tried to get a grip.

“That’s it,” I narrated, keeping the camera steady on her naked, shivering body. “Show me how dirty you were. Scrub it all off.”

She closed her eyes, tears mixing with the spray cascading down her face. She rubbed the soap over her arms, her movements mechanical and stiff, like a robot. She was humiliated, degraded, knowing I was capturing every second of her shame.

“Between your legs,” I ordered, zooming in slightly. “Make sure you get all of it out. I want you clean.”

She let out a choked sob, but her hand moved down between her thighs. She washed herself roughly, desperately trying to erase the feeling of me, scrubbing her skin until it turned pink under the hot water. It was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen, her absolute vulnerability, her total surrender to my demands.

“Good girl,” I said, panning the camera up and down her wet, glistening body. “Look at you. You’re beautiful when you’re broken.”

She turned off the water, the silence suddenly deafening. She stood there for a moment, dripping and shivering, before grabbing a towel and drying herself off with harsh, desperate movements. She looked like a ghost, pale and hollowed out, moving on autopilot.

I leaned against the sink, watching her every move, making sure she didn’t try anything stupid. “Get dressed,” I said when she moved slowly toward her pile of clothes. “We’re leaving.”

She picked up her panties, her hands trembling so badly she could barely get them on. She struggled with the jeans, hopping slightly as she pulled them up. I didn’t offer to help. I just watched, enjoying the show. She pulled the baggy sweatshirt over her head, covering herself, hiding the marks I’d left on her skin. It didn’t matter. I knew they were there.

She shouldered her bag, her head down, avoiding my eyes completely. “Where… where are we going?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Home,” I said, pushing off the sink. “But we’re taking the scenic route.”

I grabbed her wrist, not roughly this time, but firmly enough to guide her, and pulled her out of the shower room. She followed without resistance, her steps heavy and dragging. We walked through the empty locker room, past the bench where I’d taken her innocence. I saw her flinch as we passed it.

I unlocked the main door and ushered her out into the corridor. The school was dark, the halls silent and tomb like. Her sneakers squeaked on the linoleum, the only sound in the building.

“Keep your mouth shut,” I warned as we neared the side exit. “And don’t try to run. You saw what I did to you in there. You don’t want to find out what I’ll do if you make a scene in public.”

She nodded mutely, tears tracking silently down her cheeks. She was broken. She was mine.

We stepped out into the cool night air. The parking lot was empty, bathed in the sickly yellow glow of the streetlights. I led her toward my car, parked in the shadow of the gymnasium.

“Get in,” I said, opening the passenger door.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, looking out at the empty road, perhaps imagining the freedom that lay just beyond the streetlights. But then she looked at me, and the hope died in her eyes. She climbed in, buckling the seatbelt with mechanical precision.

I slammed the door shut and walked around to the driver’s side. As I started the engine, the rumble cutting through the silence of the night, I looked over at her. She was staring straight ahead, her hands folded in her lap, utterly defeated.

“Good girl,” I said, putting the car in drive. “Let’s go home.”

I pulled into the drive-thru of the only place open this late, the bright neon menu casting a glow over the interior of the car. Charlize sat motionless in the passenger seat, staring blankly out the window. She looked dead inside.

“What do you want?” I asked, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel.

She didn’t answer, didn’t even look at me.

“Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll get you a burger and fries. You need to keep your strength up.”

I ordered, paid at the window, and handed her the bag when we pulled back out onto the road. She took it numbly, setting it on her lap without opening it.

“Eat,” I commanded, glancing over at her as I navigated the quiet streets.

She slowly unwrapped the burger, her movements sluggish and robotic. She took a small bite, chewing without tasting, forcing herself to swallow.

“So,” I said, breaking the silence as I neared her street. “We need to go over this.”

She froze, the burger halfway to her mouth. “What?”

“Your brother,” I reminded her, keeping my eyes on the road. “Darian knows I’m driving you home. He knows we’re getting dinner. That text I sent? That’s our cover story. It’s already done.”

She swallowed hard, nodding slowly. “Yeah. I know he trusts you.”

She looked at me with wide, watery eyes. “He thinks you’re a good person.”

“I am,” I said, reaching over to pat her knee. She flinched, but I didn’t pull away. “To him, I am. And that’s why you’re safe. As long as you keep your mouth shut and play the part, he’ll never know what really happened in that locker room. He’ll never know what you really are.”

“He’ll never know,” she repeated softly, the words sounding like a curse.

“And honestly,” I continued, pulling into her driveway and cutting the engine. The house was dark except for the porch light. “I’m doing him a huge favor by making sure you get home safe. And really, Charlize? I am.”

She looked at me with wide, watery eyes, confusion mixing with the terror. “What?”

“I’m doing you a favor,” I repeated, turning in my seat to face her. “Think about it. You were walking around acting like a slut, practically begging to be put in your place. Someone had to do it. I saved you from embarrassing yourself further. I taught you a lesson you needed to learn.”

“You didn’t save me,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You hurt me.”

“I hurt you because I care,” I said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from her face. She flinched but didn’t pull away. “I showed you what happens to girls who act the way you do. I helped you understand your place. You should be thanking me.”

She stared at me, horrified, unable to comprehend the twisted logic I was feeding her. “Thank you? For… for raping me?”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” I scoffed, shaking my head. “I’d call it a necessary correction. And honestly? It was a service to you. You needed to be knocked down a peg. Now you know exactly what you are.”

“I’m not… I’m not what you say I am,” she choked out, tears spilling over.

“Sure you are,” I said smoothly. “But don’t worry. I’m not going to leave you hanging. I’m going to help you stay on the right path. Consider me your mentor.”

Her eyes widened in fresh panic. “What… what do you mean?”

“I mean I’m not done with you,” I said, leaning in close, my voice dropping to a dark promise. “I’m coming back for more, Charlize. You’re too good to waste on just one night. I’m going to check in on you. I’m going to make sure you’re staying the sweet, submissive little girl I know you can be.”

“No… please, no,” she whimpered, shaking her head frantically. “I can’t do this again. I can’t.”

“You don’t have a choice,” I said, my tone hardening. “You’re mine now. And I promise you, I’m going to return. Whenever I want. However I want. And you’re going to be ready for me, aren’t you?”

She sobbed, defeated, her shoulders slumping as the reality of her future sank in.

“Good girl,” I smirked, leaning back. “Now, fix your face. You look like a mess.”

She reached up, trying to smooth down her ponytail, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. She looked terrified, but she was listening.

“Now, get out,” I said. “And don’t forget the food. It sells the story.”

She grabbed the bag with trembling fingers and opened the car door. She stepped out into the cool night air, hesitating for a second on the sidewalk.

“Go on,” I called out through the open window. “Don’t keep him waiting.”

She walked up the path to the front door, her head down. I watched her insert her key, turn the lock, and disappear inside. A moment later, I saw the hallway light flick on. I sat there for a moment, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, smiling to myself. I had done her a favor, alright. I’d given her life purpose. And I’d be back to collect on it very soon.

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Hope to get another chance soon

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