RAPE
Clara pulled into her driveway and realized she didn't remember driving herself home. She shook her head, chastising herself and making a mental note to pay better attention to her driving. She turned off the car and got out, flipping through the keys until she found the house key and let herself in. She closed the door behind her with her foot. Her mind was already on dinner that night as she flipped through the mail that had come that day.
Bill, bill, card from her cousin Rachel, bill, junk mail. She set them all down on the table and kicked off her heels, then peeled her stockings down her legs. Her feet were sore from standing all day. Taking off the shoes and stockings felt like a little slice of heaven. She put the kettle on the stove and went up to her room to change.
The dress fell to the floor in a puddle of black fabric as she slid down the zipper. Clad in only her bra and panties, she went to the bathroom to draw a bath. She opened the door to the bathroom, eyes straying to the floor where she noticed an earring she thought she'd lost on the carpet. She leaned down to pick it up, then her eyes went to the mirror through the door way.
Her scream was cut off as the hand of the man behind her clamped over her mouth. He wore a black mask, black clothes and black gloves. The gloves bit into her cheeks as he cut off her sound of terror. Eyes wild, she kicked and bucked, trying to escape his grasp. He lifted her effortlessly, making a mockery of her attempts with his strength. His free hand dipped down to between her legs, cupping her roughly.
Clara struggled and screamed against his hand, neither one doing her any good. He laughed at her and backed toward the bed. When she realized where he was headed, Clara renewed her struggles, trying to bite his hand. In one careless moment, he leg his fingers loosen enough for her to widen her jaw then clamp down on the top of his hand.
"Fuck!" He snarled and slackened his grip enough to let Clara tear herself from his grasp. She sprinted across the room to the door, hand fumbling with the knob trying desperately to wrench the door open. Just when the latch clicked, a big black gloved hand landed heavily on the door, preventing her from opening it. She turned, trying to duck under his arm but he caught her around the middle and threw her onto the bed.
Immediately she tried to turn over and scramble off the bed. He was on her in an instant, pinning her down and holding her in place with his weight. Her screams tapered off as her voice grew hoarse and she realized no one could hear her.
"Please," she started to beg, "Please don't hurt me. Please leave me alone!" He only laughed at her pleas and clicked open a switchblade. Clara choked on a sob, tremors of fear wracking her body. He brought the knife close to her skin.
"Hold still," he whispered. Terrified, Clara stilled, frozen. He used the blade to cut the front closure of her bra. The fabric loosened, then fell away. He switched the knife to his other hand and lowered his mouth to her breasts. Clara cried, wanting to push him away, wanting to scream more, but afraid of what he would do if she did. After a moment, he pushed up and closed one hand on her throat. He didn't cut off her air but put enough pressure on her neck to let her know all he had to do was squeeze to strangle her. She stayed stock still as he cut the elastic of her panties and then ripped them away.
He put the blade between his teeth and removed one of his gloves. Then he cupped her, probing one finger inside her. Clara couldn't help the sob that escaped her throat. She turned her face away, unable to stand the humiliation of what was happening to her. He grinned lecherously at her, then moved his hand to the button of his black jeans. New terror sparked within her as he pushed them down and his erection sprang out.
"Please don't," she begged again. "Please just leave me alone, please!"
"Shut up, bitch," he snarled at her. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed as she continued to cry. She could feel the heat of him on her, knew what was coming and knew she was helpless to stop it.
"Please," she whispered one last time. He backhanded her, not hard enough to cause true pain, but leaving her dazed. While she fought not to pass out, he pressed the head of his cock against her cunt and pushed. Still foggy, Clara didn't even tense as he thrust forward. When he bottomed out inside her, she snapped back to clarity and screamed. He laughed and pulled back only to thrust forward again. Her screams dissolved into sobs as he fucked her hard and fast. She was horrified by the wet sound of their skin slapping together, horrified that her body seemed to be welcoming his invasion. Each time he thrust forward her muscles clenched around him and a shiver of pleasure went through her.
He slid his hands to her breasts and gripped them both as he continued to pound into her. Clara didn't know if it lasted minutes or hours. She was consumed by fear and confusion, frozen with the humiliation stabbing at her.
When his movements became jerky and frenzied, Clara tried desperately to push him off.
"Please, please don't come in me! I'm not on the pill!" Panic gripped her as he only groaned and continued to thrust. "Don't! Please, I can't get pregnant!" Her words only seemed to spur him on, and his cock swelled, then he started to come.
"I'm coming, bitch." The words were hoarse and guttural as he continued to thrust and force his come deeper into her. She shrieked as the tip of his cock battered against her cervix, as if trying to push his seed directly into her womb. Finally, he slowed and panted to catch his breath. Clara could only cry harder, her body still clenching around his as though it wanted more. He pulled back, his softening cock slipping from her body. Clara bit back a whimper at the loss. She curled up into a ball on the bed while he fastened his jeans and pulled his glove back on. "Maybe if you're lucky, I'll come back tomorrow and take another shot at knocking you up," he whispered against her ear.
Clara pulled her knees to her chest even tighter and tried to block out his words. She rocked herself back and forth, shock making her sluggish. He slipped out the window he'd come in through and disappeared into the night. Downstairs, the kettle started to scream.
Clara's eyes snapped open, the sense of violation lingering even though the fear was gone. She gasped, looked up at Damien above her and didn't know whether to hug him to her or shove him away.
"Oh my god," she gasped.
"I believe we have already established that I am not god," he said with one brow raised.
"What did you do to me?!" She shifted, realizing they were still joined, his cock deep inside of her.
"I raped you," he said simply.
"Why?" the word came out as an accusation. He shrugged.
"I told you the next few nights would be intense. Non consensual sex can be quite the turn on."
"What?"
"Don't act like you don't know," Damien purred to her. He thrust forward, wringing a wave of aftershocks through her, pleasure licking along her nerve endings.
"I....came?" She was floored. Of course she'd always had fantasies about being taken against her will, but they'd never involved such fear as the scenario he had played out with her.
"You came spectacularly. I believe if I were mortal, you would have ruptured my ear drum." He chuckled, moving in slow shallow thrusts in and out of her.
"I- I can't believe I enjoyed that! I can't believe I got off on that!"
"Why is that so hard to believe?"
"Because! I was terrified! You raped me!"
"It's been a secret fantasy of yours for years now, Clara. Why should you be surprised that you enjoyed it?"
"I just...I just am." She shook her head, shuddering when another wave of pleasure coursed through her.
"Still fighting your natural inclinations, I see." Damien sighed and pulled out of her. "Clara, did you think I was lying when I told you that you have a harlot's soul?"
"You're the King of Lies. I can't know that anything you tell me is the truth," she evaded.
"Answer the question. Did you think I was lying?"
"...no," she admitted. Color infused her cheeks. "There has always been a part of me that's felt that way, because of my fantasies and the things that turn me on. So no, I didn't think you were lying. It was almost as if you'd confirmed something I'd been afraid of for years."
"Why are you afraid of that?" He seemed genuinely confused.
"Why was I afraid of having a harlot's soul?" She shook her head as if it ought to be obvious. "That would make me a whore. A slut. Dirty. Who wants that?"
"I do," Damien growled, leaning over her again. His black eyes bored into hers. She shivered at the intensity in his gaze. "Your harlot's soul is a treasure I've been seeking for a millennia, Clara. You are lust incarnate. Your thirst for dark and depraved pleasures is rivaled only by my own. So it shouldn't surprise you that you take pleasure in the forbidden fruit we taste. Nor should you feel ashamed of your urges. Not with me."
She searched his face, looking for some trace of deception. There was none. Oddly, his words seemed almost...romantic. What the blazes was wrong with her? How could she feel wooed by the devil?!
"I've been the master of seduction since the dawn of time, Clara. It's no surprise I've got you in my spell. But what makes you unique in all the millions of souls I've seduced....is that you've got me under your spell as surely as I have you in mine."
Clara gasped, a thousand feelings coursing through her all at once. Fear, confusion, lust, vanity, satisfaction, pride, shame, they all mixed up within her. What did it say about her that he devil thought her harlot's soul a treasure? Worse, what did it say about her that she found it flattering? That she was warming to his dark temptation....
"I think things have taken a turn in our evening, little one. Perhaps a bit of space and reflection would do well for both of us." Damien started to get up and was surprised when Clara stopped him.
"I don't want to kick you out of your own room," she said, her hand on his hip. She bit her lip and shifted, unsure what to say or do. Damien looked back at her and paused, considering.
"I have many rooms, Clara. This is merely my favorite. If, however," he sent her a sly look, "you want me to stay, you have only to say so, pet. You have spent the last nine nights serving my pleasure. If it would please you for me to stay, then spending the day in your arms is hardly a chore." He stopped a moment as if to keep himself from saying something he might regret. "But then, that's getting back into that tender topic we were getting distance and perspective from. Do you want me to stay, Clara?"
"I- yes." Clara smiled a little.
"Then I'll stay."
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