Author's Notes: As is usual to state on Literotica, in case it is not clear enough from the story itself, all characters participating in sexual acts occurring in this story are at least 18 years of age.
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***
Like many other young, 21-year-old women, Sarah Cohen liked to have fun. A lot. Preferably of the sexual kind.
Unfortunately for her, when it came to said sexual fun, she enjoyed a rather different type than most people did, or would have imagined her doing and liking if she decided to confide in them. Every time she decided to open up a bit, alcohol usually being involved in those confessions, her conversational partners immediately and understandably urged her to stop talking when she mentioned that she usually stalked her old middle school's premises looking for that sweet sexual fun. She never even got a chance to add that she only did that around midnight, when all of said building's daytime occupants were sound asleep far away from it.
Nevertheless, here she was, once again. Just her, her warm clothing to protect her from the cold of the pitch black night all around her, and streets whose hopefully-temporary emptiness she impatiently waited to be broken by the appearance of someone she could have that nice, sexual fun with.
And of course, a fully-loaded handgun in her right pocket, to give whatever random victim she chose to have fun with a very good reason to do whatever she ordered. There was also a silencer in the left pocket, but unfortunately, she never needed to use that after she emptied the right one and showed the unsuspecting men what was there.
She doubted that she'd need to do more than that this time. Before she could ruminate too much about it however, she suddenly realized that it was almost too late for her to draw it this time, when she finally realized that the footsteps she heard in the distance behind her weren't just echoes of her ones as she, lost in thought, slowly walked by the school fence.
"Who's there?!" she screamed into the dark grey nothingness as she turned around, her eyes catching the slightest hint of a somewhat-masculine figure freezing in place in the darkness.
She started walking in the figure's direction, her steps turning into a waltz as she kept a tight grip on the gun in her jeans, the answer to her question soon getting an answer as she got close enough to see the young man's pale, terrified face.
Standing on the cracked pavement in front of the school's just-barely opened entrance was none other than Frederick Perry, a 20-year-old man who had just realized that he had stepped into a nightmare.
Not that he had never before been terrified when walking back home by this school from an afternoon shift. The aged, partly-decayed architecture could easily give someone the creeps even not taking the pitch-black darkness enveloping the entire building and everything around it into account. It was actually rather funny to him, in that peculiar, tragicomic way, that nobody had been able to repair even a single streetlamp around it for, by now, seven years.
But, in the end, he was thankful that it was only during the night that he had to walk by the old middle school, the bus that had always taken him home during his other shifts having been taken off the road for the night a couple of hours ago by now. As creepy as it looked during the night, it was only during the night that it reminded him of all of the hellish memories he had of the place.
He never forgot the four years, filled with pain, fear, and terror, he had lost there. He was sure he never could.
Neither did he forget the bullies who made sure that the time he had spent there was as miserable as possible.
It was the frightening possibility, that brief blip as his daydreaming turned into a nightmare before his mind quickly reset itself and purged those heart-stopping thoughts, of meeting one, or even more, of those old bullies of his as he walked by the building where they had forever scarred him that terrified him, much more than the building alone ever could.
But, not even in the worst of these nightmares, would he ever imagine once again meeting the very worst one of those bullies.
And yet, here she was, her features becoming clearer and clearer by the moment as her darkness-clad figure waltzed toward his petrified body.
"Well fuck me!" she enthusiastically exclaimed when she finally stopped about eight feet in front of him. "I almost didn't recognize you! What're you here for Freddy? Going to break in to get some late assignment you just remembered there, being the perfect pupil that you are?" she added with a snicker, reminding him of more than a few quite humiliating experiences she had a hand in crafting for him.
"Heh, nice to meet you too, Sarah," he replied, avoiding her gaze and using all of his strength to minimize the quivering in his voice. For a moment, he thought about trying to stealthily, or maybe not so stealthily, diss her, before deciding to just get out of this as soon as possible. This situation creeped him out, and he was pretty sure he could feel a panic attack creeping upon him.
If only he knew what the reality of his situation truly was...
"Nice to meet you, as I said, but could you move aside, I'm rather..." he added when he finally managed to move his paralyzed legs, only for her to stop him right as he was about to pass her by.
"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, her left hand pressed against his chest and forcing him backward while she spoke. If her surprisingly-physical actions didn't already terrify him enough, her overall demeanor and the way she spoke, neither of which had changed a bit from those years, definitely did the job. "I would've never guessed that it'll be you, but I've been waiting here for some company for quite some time, and I'm not going to throw away a chance to have some fun."
"Sorry, I don't have time for your bullshit, so..." he retorted with all of the courage he could muster as he prepared to push through her.
"Not so fast, you little bitch!" she suddenly exclaimed, pulling her right hand out of her pocket, holding some shiny object that he couldn't yet identify.
When, after a few seconds, he finally realized what it was in her hand that reflected the light from the moon and the only two or three working streetlamps in the vicinity into his face, he froze. All of the bravery he felt in the previous moment instantly evaporated, his soul shattering in the process, as he realized the gravity of the situation his former, and now once again current, tormentor just put him into.
What he was staring at in horror was a Smith & Wesson M&P M2.0, held just inches from his face, aimed straight between his eyes, and given how heavy it seemed to be in Sarah's delicate hand, fully ready to end his life with a single push of the trigger.
After a few seconds of complete silence, he just gulped quietly, continuing to stare at the weapon that could at any moment be used to kill him.
"Hah! Lost your vigor already?" she mockingly asked. "Where's the badass Freddy finally standing up for himself? He was there just a moment ago! All that's left is the scared little bitch we all know," she added, twisting the knife further in a way she had perfected over the years she had known him. "Well, don't worry. Trust me, you'll be
really
excited very soon. Or else," she finished with a jokey, high-pitched voice.
"Sarah, please, just..." he quietly pleaded, but she knew that at this point she didn't need to pay the slightest attention to anything that was escaping his lips.
Now, she knew for certain after doing this for so long, was the time for her to put his mouth to better use than pitiful begging. While he continued trying to desperately find a way to convince her to lower the gun and let him leave, she just smugly undid her jeans and pulled them down onto the ground along with her underwear, exposing her most private parts to the cold, dark night.
Temporarily.
"Get on your knees," she ordered, gesturing downwards with her gun. He of course obeyed. "Good," she said with another snicker. "Now put that warm tongue into my crotch before my pussy freezes off. Because I'll be
very
nasty if that happened."
Realizing that there was no way to even so much as attempt to postpone the inevitable now, he submitted to her demands. Slowly, on his knees, he closed the necessary distance behind them, the gun pointed straight at his head the entire time.
"Well?" she asked, rather irritated at how long he was just blankly staring at her genitals, unmoving. "Are you going to put that tongue to work, or do you want me to shoot it off?"
It wasn't a hard choice.
He didn't even need to verbally reply to give her his answer.
Her words reminding him of the grim reality of his situation, he buried his face in her wet, warm crotch, and started doing his duty.
"Oh yeah..." she moaned as he did his best to orally please her pussy, circling and zigzagging his tongue like crazy while trying to bury it as deep inside of her tasty cunt as possible, a situation she would've never imagined possible even a few minutes ago. "Oh, yeah, Freddy! Keep on doing that, don't you dare stop!" she ordered, of course, with the gun as tightly gripped by her as always, though there was a distinct tinge of simple pleading in her rough orders.
As for him, he just kept on doing what she had ordered him to do. This was far from the first time he was forced to do something humiliating against his will because she desired it. He always hated it, of course, but had gotten used to just getting through it without too much complaining nevertheless. Those instincts, burned into both the conscious and subconscious parts of his mind for years since those days, were now simply reawakening, roused back to control his behavior by the proximity of the place where they were imprinted in the first place, the presence of the person who did the most to make those instincts a part of his being, and the simple reality of what was happening to him.
"Oh, fuck. Yeah, yeah," she cooed in pleasure, before biting her lower lip and moving her left hand under her sweater to play with her breasts for a bit. Soon, however, this hand of hers left her chest, and clothes, and was put onto his head to tightly grab it by his short, curly hair.
It was obvious that she was enjoying this. Both the pleasure she was receiving, and the position she had forced him into.
Did he feel any different though? He hadn't even noticed it before, but he had semi-subconsciously started caressing her thighs, and it wasn't just to try to get onto her good side by protecting her from the cold.
