AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Eight Years Earlier- 14 years old
The door creaks open, the same way it has nearly every night for months. I lay perfectly still, tucked on my side, afraid that any movement will give away the fact that I’m still awake. I don’t know why I try, it’s not like it’s stopped him any other night.
I hear the door latch closed followed by the familiar click of the lock. I hold my breath as he walks toward my bed, each step growing louder and heavier the closer he gets. I feel his fingers first; they trail up my arm slowly. Next I feel the bed dip as he sits next to me.
“Bree.” His slurred whisper sounds directly in my ear followed by the overwhelming smell of alcohol that wafts into my nose. “Are you awake, baby?”
I don’t move, don’t speak. I close my eyes tighter and pray he goes away even though I know he won’t.
“Bree.” His arm is on my shoulder next, pulling me to my back. I let my body fall lifeless, hoping that if I pretend not to wake up he’ll grow bored.
“So pretty,” I hear him purr, his face now at the base of my throat, his fingers knotting around one of my nipples through my t-shirt and pinching hard.
I can’t help but gasp, and my eyes shoot open to find his face now just inches from mine, a knowing smile etched across his mouth.
“There she is.” He grins wider, moving his hand to the other nipple and repeating the process.
“Please,” I start, but he cuts me off.
“Please what?” He runs his nose along my jaw, inhaling deeply as he does. “You make me feel so good,” he purrs in my ear, his hand finding the familiar place between my legs as he begins massaging me there through the thin material of my shorts.
I arch my back, not wanting it to feel good but also unable to deny that it does. I don’t know at what point I stopped fighting it and just let my body feel the pleasure that his assaults can bring.
It’s the oddest thing. My stomach turns every time I hear him come in and fear clogs my throat, but then as soon as he touches me there, my entire body comes to life. I try to convince myself that this is normal—that this is the way my body is meant to react, and I can’t help it—but deep down I know that’s not the case. I shouldn’t like what he’s doing to me, and yet, in some weird way, I do.
“That’s right, baby.” He awards my reaction by shoving the material of my panties aside and dipping two fingers into me.
I moan, trying to fight the pleasure that courses through me. I want to focus on the fact that I hate this man, that everything about him makes my skin crawl, but it’s like his touch lights something inside of me; something that takes over my mind and gives my body complete control.
“Shhh,” he whispers against my lips, sliding a third finger inside. “You don’t want to wake your mom.” I can hear the smile in his voice, the pleasure he gets knowing he’s got his fingers inside me while his girlfriend is passed out drunk in the next room.
“Just do it,” I whimper, needing the physical release; the one thing that will shut my mind off. There’s no use in fighting it anyway, I already know it will happen.
“Patience, little girl.” He stands, sliding off his shirt before pulling me up and removing mine as well.
He slides off his pants next and like a good girl, I take mine off without being told. I know what happens if I fight him, and trust me, this is so much better.
He stands next to my bed for a long moment, looking over my naked body in the soft light coming from the open closet door. I see the appreciation on his face, the lust in his eyes, and as much as I hate to admit it, it does something to me; knowing he wants me so badly.
I spread my legs wider, needing him to just get it over with already. I need not to think. I need to feel. It’s the only thing that will get me through.
“Mmm,” he groans in appreciation. “So greedy.”
Grabbing my legs, he swings me around so that my lower half is hanging off the bed and then quickly flips me to my stomach. Pressing his weight down on me from behind, he positions his erection at my entrance and enters me in one hard thrust.
I muffle my cry into the mattress, both loving and hating every second of this little charade we’ve been playing for the last two years. I wasn’t such a good sport about it when it all started. Having been raped by my mom’s last boyfriend when I was only eleven, I had an understandable fear of men.
But Brad wore me down, and bit by bit he started to gain some of my trust. Of course, all that went to hell when a few months after he moved in with us he started sneaking into my room at night.
He started off by telling me that he has needs and my mom wasn’t meeting those needs, and since we were such good friends, he needed me to help him out. The first time he only touched me and then touched himself. But each time after it went a little further until eventually, he was coming into my room two and three nights a week to have sex with me.
I tried fighting him at first. I tried screaming and crying, kicking and hitting, but it only made things worse. He would drink more and become increasingly rougher each time until eventually, I learned to just shut up and let him do it.
I tried to tell my mom; she never believed me. So eventually, I just accepted my fate and learned to live with what I knew was to come. Over the last year, I’ve learned to enjoy our time together. Being with him gives me no pleasure, but the things his body can do to mine does.
My mind knows how wrong that is which is why every time he leaves I swear to myself that the next time will be the time I stop him. But then he comes in and as soon as he touches me I lose my ability to even try.
Brad slams into me from behind so hard my shins grind into the wooden bed frame, sending pain splintering down my legs. I bite the blanket beneath my face and hold my legs more steady, refocusing on the intense feeling building in my lower stomach.
