Amanda stepped out of the cab, her face frowned and a suitcase as heavy as her racing heart. In an ideal solution for a big city study, living with her godfather meant no rent at all. During these years, he had always kept close, even when Amanda was far away from him. She loved his visits enormously when she was younger, and enjoyed receiving all the presents and affection from her uncle.
But it had been years since they'd seen each other in person, and now, at 18, she felt this weird nervousness about sharing a house with him.
The door opened before she could knock. Rodrigo, her godfather, stood at the door, imposing. Tall, with slightly graying hair at his temples, dark eyes, and a warm smile. Time had been kind to him; his body still had the firmness of someone looking after himself.
"Welcome, Amanda." His voice was deep, enveloping, and the hug he gave her was warm but too firm to be just casual.
She felt his strength, the woody smell of his perfume, and for a moment she tensed.
"Thanks, uncle. I didn't mean to be a bother."
"You'll never be a bother to me." He looked her up and down, analyzing her without haste.
She was only wearing a simple dress, but it was tight enough to show off her figure. His eyes had strayed on her a little longer than they should have, and Amanda felt her face grow hot.
The first days at the house passed without incident, but Amanda noticed things. How Rodrigo would always be present, even when she thought the house was all to herself. How he watched her from the side when he considered her not looking. How his voice became low and slurred over when speaking with her at night.
One evening, she came out of the shower wrapped only with a towel and found him in the living room. He sat on the couch with a glass of whisky in his hand. His eyes sparkled when running over her with no disguise.
"You should dry yourself better before walking around the house like that, Amanda."
His voice was neutral, but there was something there that made her shiver.
"I thought it was safe here."
"It is, but you are still a woman, and I'm just a man."
Further, she didn't utter a word. She entered her room, but the tension hung in the air between them like a secret.
As weeks passed by, Amanda realized that she was enjoying the silent game. She began to wear shorter clothes, to bend her legs on the sofa so that the hem of her shorts rode up, to bend over more than it was necessary to get something from the floor. And Rodrigo, though trying to retain control, could not hide his gaze.
It all changed on a Friday night. Rodrigo came home from work later than usual, a little drunk.
Amanda was in the kitchen preparing something to eat. She was wearing a light dress, without a bra, and when he came in, she filled the room.
"You smell good." He approached her, and she turned to him.
"It's just pasta."
"No, Amanda. I was talking about you."
The silence that followed was thick, heavy. He took another step, and now they were too close. Amanda felt his warmth, the smell of alcohol mixed with his perfume.
"You like that, don't you?" He murmured, his eyes fixed on hers.
"What?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
"That dance." Rodrigo reached up and stroked a loose strand of her hair, tucking it behind her face. "You've been teasing me for weeks. And I'm tired of resisting."
Amanda didn't say anything. She liked feeling desired, truly, but that was all. She didn't want anything to do with her godfather.
As a matter of fact, she'd never even had a boyfriend.
Rodrigo pulled her against him, holding her waist tightly as she struggled to push away.
"You want to. You just don't know it yet."
"Stop it, uncle. I was only teasing."
"Every joke has consequences." His hands clutched her closer, and she started to despair.
"I don't want to. It was just a silly tease."
"You don't play that kind of game with a man. Because when it gets going, there is no turning back."
He slammed her against the wall with one hand, as the other moved to pull down her dress straps.
"Uncle, please, I don't want that. Please, let me go." Her voice sounded so tremulous, and she felt her dress slither down her body to reach her feet.
There she was, in just her panties, in the hands of her godfather.
She felt him catch her panties and pull with all his force, ripping them off. Now she was completely naked.
All of those lines that should have separated them had been crossed, and he didn't mind one bit.
These big hands started roaming Amanda's body; she was doing everything possible to get away: crying and begging.
"Let me go! You can't do this to me!"
"You started all this, Amanda. I'm just giving back." As he spoke, his hand was already between her legs, and his finger was already forcing its way in.
She began struggling even more desperately. She didn't want to lose her virginity this way. She wanted it to be special, with someone she chose to spend the rest of her life with.
Rodrigo withdrew his hand, still holding her. He liked it when a woman fought like that, but she was making too much noise.
He then rammed the torn panties into Amanda's mouth, silencing her as she whined and complained.
"If you take that out of your mouth, you'll regret it."
Then he undid his belt and made her lean over the table; obviously no one had ever shown her how to be obedient.
"Don't move. It's for your own good."
The first stroke of the belt made an instant imprint upon Amanda's buttocks. She tried to scream, but no longer struggled. More lashes came, turning the skin of her ass and thighs a nice red.
Then, he put his belt on the table and his hands were between her legs.
"You're getting wet. That's what you like, isn't it?"
She couldn't understand why she was getting wet. It wasn't possible. She didn't like pain, and she didn't want to lose her virginity. But her body apparently wouldn't obey her.
