Touch Me

FYI: This character(whether based on my or no ~_^) gets off on being dominated and if it seems odd that she’s willing to be raped, and so quickly, it’s all a part of who she is. I know it seems to go off a bit from where it started, but bare with me, please.

Again, this is my first attempt at an adult fic, so please try to be nice.

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I had a dream when I was in fourth grade. There was a boy in my class that frightened me a little; he was cold and domineering. I wasn’t actually frightened by him, more like he intimidated me. I don’t think he knew this. As long as I have been on this earth, and long before I was even aware of my feelings, the thought of dominance and being dominated has given me a slight thrill. Thomas was no exception.

I do not speak with an ounce of vanity when I say that I was attractive, even at the tender age of nine. I was slender and relatively tall for my age, easily the tallest of the girls in my grade. My hair was honey colored with faint hints of red in certain lighting, my skin was smooth and pale as porcelain, and my eyes were a mystery all their own. Blue-hazel we called them as they shifted from their standard shade of indiscernible blue-grey-green to any color imaginable. They have been known to turn utterly black and, once, an angry orange when I was particularly upset. My lips were full and rosy and I had a smile that would light up my entire face. I haven’t changed much either.

It was halfway through the year that I had my dream. In the smaller lower level of our elementary school there was a commons area and three classrooms down brief hallways to either side. There were doors at the base of the stairs that closed the lower level from the rest of the school. In the commons were two large tables that we tended to use when we had larger art projects, the art room also on this level. In my dream, the entirety of the fourth grade was assembled around these two tables, which were pushed together, and I was lying on top of them, crying silently.

Thomas stepped onto a chair and from there onto the table to kneel next to me. Smiling cruelly, he brushed a strand of hair from my face and murmured in a chilly voice, “Don’t cry, pretty.” He didn’t utter another word as he moved steady, cold hands to stroke my cheek, moving down to unclasp my necklace and toss it aside.

His every movement was unbearably and intoxicatingly slow as he proceeded to undress me one article of clothing at a time. He slipped the flip-flops from my feet, sending the to join the necklace with it’s shattered glass beads, and started to undo the buttons of my dress. He placed a kiss on my skin where each button had lain until the only thing left between he and I were my panties. It was only then that I became aware that Thomas was already completely nude.

My stepfather had failed to hide a pornographic magazine and I happened to stray across it. I would stay up at night marveling at the pictures of women getting fucked in every orifice of their bodies and seeming to enjoy it. There were pictures of naked men in the magazine as well, so the sight of Thomas’ engorged member facing me wasn’t surprising.

I looked around me again, pleading with my eyes, unable to utter a sound, for someone to intervene as he ripped away my panties and started to touch me. Looking around me, suddenly becoming more aware of my surroundings, it registered that this wasn’t my elementary school at all; I was in the main hallway of my high school and the people circling my molester and I were actually the entire sophomore class. It was not Thomas above me, in fact, I didn’t recognize this dark stranger at all. I realized that this was no dream, but utter, cruel reality. I had merely conjured the memory of the dream to drown out the present.

I was taller, I noticed in the back of my mind, my hair was longer and dyed a charming shade of chestnut brown. I was also vaguely aware that I had breasts, pubic hair, and that I was breathing heavily and my body felt heated. No, this certainly wasn’t fourth grade anymore. Looking up again, the man was kneeling next to me, touching himself as he met my gaze. He took a moment to cuff my hands to the leg of a bench that was anchored to the floor. The sense of being dominated made me shiver.

I felt a wetness and throbbing between my thighs as I shifted on the cool marble floor, eyes still locked on the man above me. He bent down to capture my lips in a bruising and frenzied kiss to which I yielded shamelessly and completely. I could feel him smile against my skin as he moved to nip at my earlobe, making me shiver again. His mouth moved slowly down my body, kissing and nibbling at my throat and chest and then clamping down on a peaked nipple. I moaned softly in the back of my throat, not even thinking to wonder why he spent so much time to simply arouse me. At this point it was more of a torture anyway; I would have gladly given myself to him on a platter.

He was touching himself again and even this seemed to arouse me a little. We were both panting and our bodies had a faint sheen of sweat, as he bent his head to again kiss and lap at my nipples. His hands traced feather-light touches down my sides and gripped my hips, suddenly digging his thumbs into my hipbones. His mouth lingering on my breast mingling with the slight pain of his thumbs in my skin caused me to cry out. Opening my eyes I saw that there was no one there watching us. There never were; the clock read 7:18 and the filtering through the windows was dim and held an orange glow. I didn’t even remember how I happened to be in the school so late in the day.

One of his hands paused to hover tantalizingly close to my nether regions. “Touch me,” I begged, my voice breathy. He smiled. He slid a finger between my lips and into me, stroking me, his thumb exerting a gentle pressure on my clit as he moved it in slow circles, before withdrawing his hand quickly. I whimpered, and he smiled again. “What do you want?” he whispered into my ear, flicking his tongue out to trace the rim. I thrust my hips against his hand, which was still between my thighs, agonizingly close to where it should have been. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

I strained at the cuffs, longing to draw him fiercely down to me and force him to take me. He seemed to know what I was thinking and moved himself to lie atop me, his arms propping him up to stare down into my face. He moved his knee between my legs and I parted them, wrapping them securely around his waist. He chuckled softly, a deep sound that seemed to ooze seduction as I heard it. Inch by inch he slid himself inside me with excruciating slowness until he was incased in my heat to the hilt.

He began in a slow rhythm to thrust into me and I thrust my own hips to meet his eagerly as he swiftly changed the pace to pound into me with abandon. I was whimpering and making small sounds of pleasure while he was ever silent. The friction between our bodies was absolutely delicious and I could not get enough. I could tell that he was close and knew that I was as well. With a few more thrusts I arched my back, crying some unintelligible exclamation as I reached climax, my body quivering.

He was quick to follow, pounding fiercely into my languid body until he stiffened above me and I felt his hot seed spill into me. He then let out a hoarse moan and let himself collapse, moving so he only lay partly atop me, his flaccid member still buried between my thighs. I was already slipping into unconsciousness.


When I came to, I blinked up into the man’s face. He really couldn’t have been much older than myself, now that I looked at him more closely, and I was surprised to find that I vaguely recognized him. He smiled tenderly down at me, surprising me further. “Are you happy?” he asked.

I was suddenly furious. “You have got to be kidding me, you fucking sadist. You rape me and ask me if I’m happy?!” I was aware, as I leapt up to face him, that I was no longer handcuffed and was once more clothed, as was he.

“Now really, Alexia,” he admonished, “you seemed to be enjoying yourself.” I made no comment, as I couldn’t truthfully deny it, and simply glowered at him. He smiled, gently extending a hand to caress my cheek. “You seemed to enjoy yourself quite a lot.” Again that low chuckle, making me shiver.

“Tell me your name, you have mine,” I demanded suddenly. I was confident that I knew who he was, but I had to be sure.

“I used to be your neighbor before my parents and I moved out of town when I was in the seventh grade. We came back near the end of the last school year. We were in a drama class together last year, do you remember? At my graduation, your choir sang and I watched as you poured your heart into the words. Like an angel.” He smiled. It was a charming smile, one that I had seen directed my way many times. “Remember, when they called me to the podium, how our eyes met? I could see that you felt similarly about me. Even if you didn’t know it then,” he added. “You know it now, don’t you, Alexandria?”

I nodded, swallowing. Reflecting on the past year, I had to admit to myself that I had indeed experienced such yearnings. And now, when they were fulfilled, I decided that I wouldn’t let the opportunity of more encounters slip away. I took his face in my hands and kissed him deeply before releasing him.

“Thank you Nathan,” I murmured. “Next time, you don’t need to attack me. A simple phone call would do.”

I went to my purse, which sat on the bench to which he’d cuffed my hands, and took out a pen. “I’m afraid I don’t have any paper,” I said, taking his hand in mine and extending his arm to right my number on it. “Keep the cuffs handy, will you?” I pressed a kiss into his palm and walked out the door and into the parking lot.

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