College Blues

Like many college students I take classes at all hours, after working a long day, I have night classes to face. All those subjects I never wanted to take, but have to, or I don’t get that beloved piece of paper that says I’m qualified to do my job. We park in deserted lots, huge fields of cement, that blend with the darkness as if waiting for the night to come. Walking to my car alone at night isn’t really dangerous, although, I would get a little thrill as the cold bit through my clothes, and I imagined people hiding in the shadows, that’s why us girls park under the few dim lights in the parking lot, but sometimes that doesn’t keep us safe.

He came to me out of the darkness, his shadow spilling across my vision like chocolate, something bad for me. Before I could glimpse his features he grabbed my arm and spun me around so that my back was pressed tight against his chest.

“Don’t move,” he whispered in my ear, his hot breath trailing down my neck, and sending unwanted shivers up my spine. I felt the cool caress of a knife through my thin shirt. It ran down my back and stopped right above my butt.

“Look, you can take my money, but can I keep my driver’s license? You know what the DMV is like, and I don’t want to go back there.” I said, trying to sound causal and bored, hoping that he would let me go with my skin intact.

“I have different plans for you, unlock, and get in the car, in the back,” he said.

As I unlocked the car I looked around hopefully for someone, anyone that might see what was happening, but the lot was totally deserted. I did as I was told and he followed me in, and shut the door, pushing me so I faced away from him.

“Take off your shirt” he said, “Fuck off!” I replied, momentarily forgetting about the knife. He grabbed the hair at the nape of my neck and pulled my head backwards as he slashed downward with his knife, cutting the shirt off my body. I tried to use my elbows and hit him in the stomach, or use the back of my hand to get him in the face, but he easily caught my hands and held them tightly behind my back. He shoved his face next to mine and said,

“You will do what I tell you, and cooperate, or you will bleed.” He made a small cut on my arm, to show his sincerity, and let go of my hands. “Take your bra off,” he said, quietly this time. I felt the blade of the knife against my back. I took off the bra. I could feel his free hand skimming up my skin, cold from the air outside, up my ribcage to cup one of my breasts. He rolled my nipple between his fingers and I suppressed a gasp. He slowly slid his hand down towards my stomach, scratching with his nails as his hand moved.

“Underwear, off” he told me as his mouth hovered near my neck. I could feel his lips graze my ear and I closed my eyes.

“I’m not wearing underwear, moron” I hissed back. He shoved me down so I was now lying on my stomach, with one leg up on the seat curled under me, and the other hanging down. With one hand steady on the knife, now pressing against my ass, the other hand ran up the back of my calf, slowly making it’s way up my thigh, and under my skirt, until he cupped one side of my ass.

“Fucking slut,” he ground out between his teeth. His hand left my ass and I could hear him fumbling with his pants. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him put the knife down. Just as I was about to rear up and try to hit him, he landed on top of me, and held my arms above my head. I could feel his hard cock bouncing against the back of my thigh. Without another word he positioned his thighs in between mine and pushed them apart. With one hand holding my arms tight, and the other underneath my hip, he pulled my hips towards him, and thrust foreword into me in one fluid motion. I cried out, half in pain, half in pleasure, and forced myself not to move. He grabbed the hair at the back of my neck and pulled my head backwards, “Tell me you like it” he whispered right before he bit down hard on my neck. I stopped myself from moaning and said nothing. He let go of my arms and moved both hands under me, cupping my breasts and twisting my nipples as he thrust into me again. “Tell me.” He said louder this time. He raked his nails down my back, I could feel the red lines burning down my spine, making me writhe, but still I remained silent. He grabbed my hips and thrust into me again, harder this time, and I couldn’t stop from letting out a gasp. “You’re dripping wet honey,” he mocked “just admit you like it.”

In one vicious moment he had grabbed my wrists again, an holding them behind my back, so I arched upwards he started pumping in and out of me in a languid teasing rhythm, and I moaned, and couldn’t stop my body from pushing back against his thrusts, begging for more. He started moving faster and faster, thrusting harder and harder into me until I begged him to stop, begged him not to stop, I can’t remember. And without my consent I felt my orgasm build and build until I couldn’t hold on anymore and it crashed over me, and as my muscles started to twitch, I felt the man behind me give one final thrust, and fall heavily on top of me.

We lay there for a while, both of us unable to move. He slowly got up, grabbed his knife, and with a chuckle he said “thanks” and closed the door, and left. As I slowly got up, and pulled myself back together, I thought over the last few minutes. When I finally got in the front seat and started the car, I saw a note on the passenger seat. “Don’t worry,” it said “you’ll see me again” and next to the note, was my wallet, with only my driver’s license missing.