The Slut From That Night

Chapter One

New York City.

Friday, 9th July, 2021.

10:43PM.

“Right here miss.”

A cold, sturdy voice spoke from somewhere in the hallway, and I darted my eyes suspiciously to find my gaze caught in the cold, piercing stares of a pair of grey, haunted; yet, appealing eyes. My pupils travelled down the figure of this godlike man that stood against a door, about five feet away from me, with his aggressively towering figure regally leaning against the bolted door behind him.

He wore a casual white body hug T-shirt, that carved out his finely sculpted chest and abs, giving him an imposing demeanor. He had black pants on, and a pair of stunning, sparkling boots. His masculine hands were beautifully woven with threads of pounding veins that made the back of my throat run dry instantly.

My gaze went back to his face, and he looked anxious, pained even, and tiny streaks of sweat beaded his forehead evenly. I stood rooted to the spot, gawking at him in fear and awe, with my lips slightly parted. What did this beautiful man mean by “Right here miss”?

He seemed to notice my confusion, and briskly strode towards me with a godlike demeanor, grabbing my right hand firmly. This action seemed to have cajoled me from my reverie.

“Wh-at!?”

I asked in a shuddering tone, trying to unfurl my hand from his firm grip.

“I need you to help me now, let's get to work!”

He said in a commanding voice, while dragging me back to the room whose door he was initially standing at.

“What!? Leave me alone! Why are you dragging me? That's not a very nice way to ask for help!”

I said all these in a bout.

He paused in his tracks, and with a stern, annoyed look, he pulled my chin up, tilting my head backwards, and with eyes like a jaguar searching for its prey, he said:

“I really. Hate. Horsing. Around.” in a raspy voice and then pulled me into the room.

I couldn't just understand this sudden outburst. First of all, I never knew this man from Genesis, infact, I had never met him before in my whole life! Why was he acting like we had some sort of appointment? Could he be mistaking me for someone else?

He dragged me to the middle of the vast room dotted with lowlights, while my legs wobbled after him unwillingly. He swiftly let go of my hand like it was a filthy thing, then he retreated in those same ominous steps back to the door.

“Hey, you may be taking me for someone else. I really can't help you.”

His moving body stilled, as if what I said triggered a darker part of him.

“You already agreed to that.”

His cold, dismissive words left me even more confused as I watched him go to the door. I thought he wanted to step out again, but no, he was locking the door. My eyes widened in confusion and alertness.

“What are you doing? Why am I here??”

I asked shakily, my knees turning to jelly beneath me, sensing danger.

He didn't say a word. He just strode back to me in his ever intimidating strides, with his tall, imposing figure towering above me.

I shifted back unsteadily. What was it with this man?

He appeared to be suddenly amused by my expression, as an almost invisible smile lurked at the corner of his lips, and his eyes darkened evenly.

“You know.”

He had a husky, suppressed voice, and before I could process his words, I found myself scooped off the ground and placed on his left shoulder, and in seconds, I was strewn on his wide, but soft, fluffy bed.

What sort of help had to do with a bed?

I tried to shift quickly away from him, with my elbows and butt helping my locomotion.

“Are you crazy?”

I asked, terrified, but my terror seemed to amuse him more.

“You're quite a professional at this.” His eyes twitched with humour, “you want me begging for it first?”

He seemed not to understand my confusion, but his words fueled my already overflowing confusion more.

“Wait…” with a shaky voice, “first of all, you're not a gentleman at all…”

“Okay!” He huffed, interrupting me, “you have to help me, lest I die.”

I rolled my eyes in horror, and he propped one knee forward.

“My tea was poisoned.”

I gulped.

“You're scared of death?” I couldn't think of anything better to say.

His grey hooded eyes darkened, with an unknown emotion.

“No. I'm not just very good at losing.”

“So, how can I help?”

I asked, still not understanding why I should help him when I was no doctor and he was poisoned.

I drew in my lower lip, grazing my teeth gently over it, subconsciously, with my pupils dancing around in terror, over his face.

His jaw clenched tightly and his left breast quivered in response from underneath his shirt.

“I'll show you.” He muttered under his breath as he pulled me by my feet towards him. I couldn't fight back, everything was happening too fast.

He quickly trapped me in a sleeping position between his thighs, then he furiously grabbed my head and buried my mouth in hot, strangling kisses, while his free hand travelled mercilessly through the napes of my aching, trembling body.

I struggled aimlessly under his grip, but it was totally pointless. I used my shaking hands to hit him so hard, anywhere I could, but it felt like throwing flowers over a Maple's trunk.

I was breathless; his kisses were so deep and I couldn't breathe. My struggles got lighter, and he seemed to have noticed my weakness, so he let me go.

I heaved heavily, claiming the air back to my lungs. He was pulling his shirt and vest while his gaze rested on my flushed, scarlet face. He didn't say a word, but his eyes held a lot of emotions I couldn't understand.

I had regained a little strength, so I  outrightly pushed him away as hard as I could, screaming on top of my lungs.

He caught my two, tiny, hands in his firm, extra large grip and pushed me back to the bed.

“Let me go if this is a joke!” I begged with teary eyes.

“Let me go, you idiot!” I struggled harder.

He looked at me a bit confused, then as if realising something, he quickly said:

“I'm clean,” rolling his eyes searchingly, “and he says you are. I forgot my condoms…”

“What???” Who said? Is this some sort of a joke?

“What are you even talking about!?”

“Fuck it. There's compensation.”

And before I could protest, he claimed my lips again, kissing me harder than before, his hands fiercely dragging and peeling my clothes off me, shredding it in the process.

I kept struggling to no avail, and when I got weak and out of air, he released me again. I sucked in a mouthful of air, but when I tried to scream, he claimed my lips in a kiss right there. He was punishing me. Maybe, that was his own way of shutting me up.

Soon, I was stripped bare underneath him. I was shaking in fear and utter embarrassment. I couldn't even look at his face, so I closed my eyes tightly, begging him.

“Please… don't do this… I beg you!”

That was all I could do. Beg. If only that would help anything.

I felt him kneel sitting on me as he pulled his pants and underwear. He parted my legs gently and stroked my V area. My eyes shot open with tears brimming from them. I couldn't see him clearly as I was blinded by my tears. I could only see a silhouette of him kneeling sacredly in dutiful concentration on my pale, uncovered body.

I grabbed his hand trying to stop him whilst begging, but he pushed my hand away and stretched his full body over mine, sinking his warmth into my skin.

I tried to struggle with my hands and feet, but he pulled my hands over my head and spread his thighs and feet over my lower body. There I laid, completely helpless and unable to break free from him.

He used his free hand to spread my legs even more, and in a swift trance, I felt a hard, warm bulge painfully sinking deep into me, making a short scream escape my lungs. I squealed underneath him, trying so hard to detach myself, but he was too strong for me.

He gently pulled away from me, then sank in again into me, thrusting harder than the first, and I groaned in pain. My tears seemed to fuel his passions, and he started to dig into me at a terrific speed, while I helplessly squealed and wriggled on the bedclothes underneath, and after what seemed like forever, he collapsed on me, exploding his warm orgasm into me, the bedclothes and my skin. I shrunk in what you would call a mix of pain, fear, and an unpleasant delight.

He was heaving like an exhausted gauntlet runner, and I laid there strewn, exhumed and whimpering like a puppy weeping through its nose. I was literally bathed and burnt in shame.

This stranger broke all that I had fought for all these years in a matter of minutes. He kidnapped me, took my innocence, and then called it “help”.

I watched him bitterly as he laid there like a finished, expended engine, his weight almost suffocating me. I wept in pain, using my fists to pound on his head that laid on my painfully aroused breasts.

I was hitting him so hard with what seemed like the weight of my pain, but he grabbed my hands firmly, raising his head to look at me while I cried, with a sinister, yet amused look.

He carefully touched my face as if he was afraid that his touch would hurt me. He dabbed off the tears that streamed down to the lower part of my face and squinted at it with an amused expression. He peered at my tears like he was unsure they were real.

I hated him even more at that point and tried to push him away, but he pushed back, plunging his organ into me again.