You were in the basement of your three-story residence hall, pulling sweaters out of the washing machine so that you could hang them up to dry. Once you'd clipped the last knitted jumper to the clothesline strung across the back of the laundry room, you bent over to get your remaining items out of the washer, your yoga pants clinging to your ass.
You hadn't even noticed Sam in the corner. When had he slipped through the open door? He let out an approving hum as you spotted him in your peripheral vision. You straightened up quickly and shoved an armload of wet clothes into the dryer, trying not to look vulnerable or flustered.
Sam was an RA on the second floor. The freshman boys needed a firm hand to keep them in line, or they would be up partying all night, every night. Sam was just what they needed-tall, athletic, and totally immune to the usual first-year tricks. A senior, he had a commanding presence that matched his stature, as well as long sandy blond hair and a thin mustache. You had never liked the facial hair and wished he would shave, but you'd never interacted with each other all that much.
He walked nonchalantly toward the door to the hallway, peering out and looking both ways before shutting it in one smooth motion. His hands delved in his pocket to find a garishly colorful key chain; a second later the door was locked. And then he was casually stepping towards you at your station on the other side of the room.
"H-hey Sam," you chuckled weakly, "what's going on? Lockdown? I didn't get a text..."
Your hand went for your pants pocket only to find that you didn't have one. Damn leggings-you must have left your phone in your room! But if this was a lockdown, alarms would be blaring. A shiver went down your spine as you slammed the dryer door shut and pressed the "start" button.
"I couldn't help but notice you on your way down here dressed in an outfit like that," Sam drawled, coming ever closer. His eyes lingered on your ass, so you turned to face him head on. At least that way he couldn't stare at you like a total perv.
"Sam. I'm just wearing what I wear to the gym. Or-or to go to sleep. Seriously, what's your deal?" You tried to laugh, to diffuse the tension building in the room. Suddenly you wished for some fresh air, but there were no windows on the basement level. Your eyes darted around, looking for an escape route, finding only the door which the RA had locked with his specially-issued keys.
"I think you know, sweetheart," Sam purred, his face now mere inches from yours. "You've got such an incredible body. And those lips...well, I think you already know what I've pictured them wrapped around." A shudder rippled through your torso as you crossed your arms over your chest protectively.
"But that's for another time," the imposing senior mused, maintaining eye contact. It felt as if his gaze was searing you alive. His hands came up to grab your wrists, prying your folded arms apart and pinning you against the rumbling dryer. "Wouldn't it be fun to watch you play with yourself against the machine," Sam laughed. "Feel those vibrations? Do you own a toy like that?"
You shook your head "yes" without speaking, now properly terrified. Only one thing could happen now. He was going to force himself on you.
"Good. What kind? A little bullet vibe? A big dildo with a rotating motor? Oh, do tell."
"I-I have a rabbit..." you said, looking away and blushing fiercely.
Why am I telling him anything? Rapists don't deserve pleasure. They don't deserve to know shit about me-
-oh god, I'm about to be raped.
From that moment on you refused to speak another word. No matter what he did to you. No matter what he said. No matter what-
