My First Apartment

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The following is a rape fantasy. It's not meant to be taken seriously or as an indication that anyone would enjoy being raped. It is completely fictional and has no basis in the real world. As a rape fantasy it is violent. If any of that sounds like it may bother you it's likely best to choose a different story to read.

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My first apartment! After my first few years of dorms and room mates, I finally had my own place off campus. I was so excited to have my own space that was mine; it gave me such a different feeling looking ahead to third year. Residence wasn't all bad, I did end up meeting some wonderful friends and the close quarters living experience did have a charm of its own, but really I have always liked to have some space. The thing about a dorm room is that it's a social contract of sorts, a series of little trusts and concessions that make it possible to co-exist. In my apartment I would set the terms. No unexpected mini-parties, no more sleeping in the common room when she had "company" and no more midnight life crisis management.

The apartment wasn't that much to speak of, but to me it was so grown up. I had my own living room, my own kitchen, my own shower and my own bedroom. There was even a balcony that looked 10 floors to the ground. The view of the street below seemed somehow peaceful to me. I was so captivated with my new domain, dancing from one room to the next over the carpeted floors that I almost forgot to help with the move.

"Michelle! This is your fucking stuff!", my brother reminded me that he was only too happy to be conscripted to furnish this empty palace.

"Ok, ok, you don't have to be so fucking rude about it!" My taste of complete freedom had loosened my tongue a bit more than my family was used to.

"Hey! That's enough young lady, you're not to speak like that. Have some self respect!" My father, ever sensitive to gender equality, was completely horrified when words used consistently by my brother escaped my lips.

At that point I really didn't care, I wasn't really in the mood to bicker with either of them. I really did appreciate the help, as I wasn't quite independent enough to move heavy furniture...or in the grand scheme of things independent enough to pay for anything myself. Dad had hit a home run this time, the building the location and the dedication to moving had earned him sweet daughter as long as I was in his presence. With that in mind I meekly apologized to dad, while making sure he missed the eye roll in the direction of my older brother.

Getting back to the real world, I did my best to help carry in the boxes. I endured the lamenting sighs and verbal abuse from my brother without any further incident. I'm not sure what he expected of me, the boxes were really heavy, I know that I packed most of them but I didn't know they would be so heavy when it came time to lift them. I wasn't going to be entering any weight lifting contests, at 21 years old the only muscles I had were in my legs. That from years of dancing and more recently having taken up jogging as a way to get out of my dorm.

By this time I was very comfortable with my body. Sure, I was still lanky and sort of tall, but I wasn't the stick that I was in high school. My hips had filled out to my delight and more so relief in the first few years of university and I got compliments all the time on my legs. I would play it off, but really I actually liked the attention, even when it came from a passing car of testosterone fuelled students yelling a cat call. It made me feel proud, it made me feel good about my body. A body that I spent most of my high school days trying to cover up, worried that I would be made fun of or worse. Those days felt like accent history now. Instead of covering I worse clothes to show off, little shorts, skirts, tank tops, tight sweaters, fitted jeans and even on occasion high heels.

I changed my appearance in other ways too. The mess of curly, unmanaged and frizzy hair was replaced by salon styled what I liked to think of as flowing hair. My glasses stayed in my drawer more often than not, replaced by contact lens. I even started painting my nails, wearing dangling earrings and grooming the area that only some of the boys would see.

Becoming sexually active mid-way through first year changed a lot of things about my confidence and outward appearance. It really was the catalyst to a lot of these things. I wanted to attract boys now, I wasn't afraid of them any more. I didn't have those nagging fears about if it would hurt or if they would like it. It felt good and I wasn't afraid to admit that, my outward appearance at this stage was just an extension of this attitude. My dad liked to harbour some hope that his nerdy princess was still untouched by the hands of man, but I think we just had an unspoken agreement not to talk about it.

"Thud!" The last box was dropped, not so gracefully, by my brother as he wiped the sweat off his forehead and gave me a not so approving look for my contribution to this effort.

"umm thanks." I said apprehensively knowing this wasn't much currency in his world.

"yeah, whatever...can we go know?" He said trailing towards our parents.

"Are you ready sweetheart?"

"Yeah, dad I will be just fine, thanks for all your help." I said in my most sincere and sweet voice I could muster while giving him a big hug. In his world this was the most valuable currency and I could tell he would do it all over again without taking a break.

"Love you dear."

"Love you too."

And with that, I was finally alone in my very own place for the very first time. The boxes could wait, the first thing I did was plugged in the video machine and watched a sappy movie, doing my best to not be emotional, followed by betraying that very notion. A box of kleenex later I was all cried out and ready to sleep in my own place for the first time.

When I woke up in the morning I decided to go for a little jog before the world woke up. This sort of opened my eyes to something else that was different about my new place, this wasn't a student residence and people were already up. Not being a residence meant that my neighbours were of all sorts, I really had been transplanted into a grown up world. Mostly, it suited me just fine, most people just kept their heads down avoiding eye contact. I would often pass people in the hall left with the feeling that one of us should have said hi.

Over time, I did see people that I would say hi to and likewise. Nobody really made me uncomfortable in any serious way. Not like some of the guys in residence, who would have trouble taking a hint that we had nothing to talk about. First, I became friends with a young single mom from a floor down. Her name was Susan and she was so much fun, I felt bad for her situation sometimes but when she could get away we would go out for drinks, talk obnoxiously, come home and watch movies. We really connected and I liked having a friend in the building. I got along with her little boy too, he was full of questions and I actually entertained the possibility that I could answer them all.

Over the first term we became pretty close. Susan was cool to me, she wasn't a school friend, she was a bit older at 26 and seemed worldly to me. After a while she would ask me to watch her son every now and then, just a few hours at a time. I really didn't mind, he was usually asleep and it was quiet and I could get some studying done. After a few times I sort of wanted to know where she was going.

"Oh, nowhere really, at least not out of the building." Susan said revealing part of it with a mischievous smile.

"With the guy upstairs?" I asked almost in disbelief, I had seen them talking before but he didn't really look like her type.

Susan was a fit, blonde and pretty woman and the guy was sort of quiet and seemed unfriendly. He had dark eyes, well built and projected a certain masculinity that wasn't pretty but nevertheless had a presence. Susan had been fucking him for the past 4 months and at this point she started to dish the gossip.

"There's just something about how he talks to me." She said it as if this was irresistible.

"How?"

"You know, just like he isn't in the mood for nonsense?"

I really didn't know, but I nodded my head anyways. The guys I knew were all about nonsense, drama and playing. This was different, this was something I wasn't used to knowing about, this was adult sex. As she explained it, they were just fucking to blow off steam. And she got into even more details without a shred of embarrassment. She told me how he likes to cum on her face and how sometimes they don't even talk.

If my jaw could have hit the floor it would have. I left that night feeling like in some way I lost some of my innocence. I really didn't know what to think, to my 21 year old brain it seemed so seedy. They had no designs on each other, they weren't playing each other and it didn't look like anyone's feelings could get hurt, still for some reason it felt so different from what I thought sex was.

I continued to watch her son and Susan continued to get fucked by this guy, who by this point I had taken a sort of morbid interest in. I wasn't really attracted to him and in no way did I want what she was getting, but part of me couldn't help but wonder why she wanted it from him. He was old, must have been close to 40, he never smiled and he seemed like a total loner. That was at least what I was gathering from my observations.

At first, I would pass him in the lobby or something and he never said anything to me. One time, the lobby door closed while I was carrying my books and he didn't even motion to open it. I got a really bad vibe from him, but still I kept an eye on him taking care to make sure he didn't notice my fascination. It's bizarre the things that can take my interest, he was just so foreign to me, like nobody in my world. Being in Susan's world had somehow taken him into mine. I knew how he liked to fuck, the things he said to his lover and personal stuff I should have never had access to. That coupled with the fact that I didn't understand him, being nearly 40 living alone with no family, made me increasingly interested in him.

The first time he spoke to me was outside the front entrance, he was smoking a cigarette and looking straight ahead. It was a cold Canadian winter day and my brown hair was blowing in my face. I stopped in front of the building to get it out of my mouth before heading inside when...

"you're Susan's friend, aren't you?" He bluntly said in monotone calmness that didn't suit the cold conditions.

Taken back, I decided to be friendly, "Yeah, yeah I'm Michelle, nice to meet you, I've seen you around but it's a big building and you just don't say hi to everyone and I never thought you wanted to say hi to me, so it's funny to just run into you, well here. What are you doing?"

I was rambling embarrassingly quickly, the cold weather tends to make me speed up my words and the fact that I had been watching him for so long I just didn't know what to say. For his part, he just leaned against the wall, never twitching, watching me make a fool out of myself. His dark eyes told me without words that he thought I was a stupid kid and in this he was probably right.

There was a big pause, once I stopped my stupidity. I figured I should just cut my embarrassment short and head inside, try to forget my social retardation. As I turned to go.

"You watch her kid some nights." I couldn't tell if this was a statement or a question, but it stopped me in my tracks.

"Yeah, yeah I watch him sometimes, he's great we play lego and he tell me about his school and superheroes. Yeah, I do, he's great we have so much fun." There was something about his mannerisms that led me to nervous run ons. He would let me run myself out and then, after an uncomfortable silence, he would just bluntly say something.

"I wouldn't know, I don't know her kid." With that his cigarette was done and it was him who concluded the conversation by heading inside in front of me.

This was a very strange interaction, it left me shaken on some level. I felt like I was about 2 feet tall. When I made it to my apartment, I broke down in uncontrollable tears. I tried so hard to stop them, but I must have sat on the sofa for an hour unsuccessfully fighting them back as the streamed down my face. I couldn't make any sense or it, but at the same time I couldn't control it. I would make every effort to avoid him in the future.

I stopped asking Susan about him. I still helped her with the babysitting as she was blowing off steam just a few floors up. That encounter really left a bad impression on me. I wanted to be a grown up and he made me feel foolish, and he didn't seem to have any emotions. There's also the fact that I just didn't have that much experience talking to adults. I mean I talked to them, but they were my teachers, or my parents' friends, or my co-op placement boss and people like that. They were not peers; they asked me questions about myself, like school or dance and I would talk about myself, this adult world was different.

My efforts to avoid him, couldn't be completely successful forever. On a day that happened to be around the middle of my cycle, I stepped into the elevator, he seemed to come out of nowhere to get on just before the door closed. It was just me and him. I stood in a very uncomfortable silence as it seemed to take hours for the lift to move. I just wanted to make it to floor 10, that's all I wanted, then I would be free. I didn't owe him conversation. Just had to make it to floor ten.

He stood right behind me, almost invading my personal space. He then said the most offensive thing I had ever heard in my life.

"You're ovulating." He said almost whispering in my ear.

My stomach dropped, he couldn't have said that, "ugh, excuse me?" I said in a real hope that I didn't hear him.

I looked straight ahead and he leaned even closer to my ear, "I can smell your ovaries."

I was completely horrified. Frozen in my spot, I felt as if my knees were going to give way. I felt a tear welling in my eye. The doors were talking forever to open.

As soon as it did, I stepped off deliberately without looking back, but I could feel his dark eyes claiming victory over me. I had never been so insulted in my life. Could he really smell me? I mean the fact was that I was ovulating, I knew my cycles but how the fuck did he? I never told Susan about them, I never told anyone about them. He voice was so sure and steady. Why was he talking about my eggs?

That was so far past the personal boundary line I didn't know what to do. I wasn't just scared, I was mad. I wanted to call the police, but what would I tell them? I wanted to call my dad, just for protection, I couldn't possibly tell him but I felt like I wanted him to come down to my apartment be with me. I didn't want to be alone. I felt so violated, so dirty and so belittled. I closed my door and just leaned against the wall in the hallway and sank my bum to the floor and stared at the wall. My thoughts were almost blank.

Finally, I called Susan, it took a while to get her on the phone. I just kept calling until she answered. I wasn't in my right mind.

"Slow down honey, what's wrong? You're not making sense," Susan tried to make sense out of this desperate phone call.

"It's your fucking boyfriend! He's such a fucking creep!" I managed to say clearly.

"What happened, are you ok?"

I was crying on the other end and having a hard time with my words, so Susan took a guess.

"Did he fuck you sweetheart?"

"No!" I managed to get out "He said stuff, nasty stuff." I was calm enough to tell Susan the whole unpleasant experience in the elevator.

She wasn't happy about it at all. We were friends, but she still sort of felt like my big sister. It was a role that was understood between us. She told me that she wasn't going to stand for this and that she was going to go tell him off right away. When I hung up the phone, I felt a little better, I felt like I had someone in my corner. Susan would go tell him the things I wish I could.

After about three hours or so there was a knock at my door. Susan told me on the phone that she would come see me to make sure everything was alright later so I was expecting her. I walked to the door, wearing just my dance tights and a white t-shirt. The tights feel comfortable and I like to wear them around the apartment sometimes. I opened the door and stepped back to let her in, only it wasn't Susan at the door.

IT WAS HIM. He looked very angry and he asked for no invitation as he stepped through the door. Immediately he had his rough, strong hand around my throat and he was pushing me to the ground as the door slammed behind us. My face was pressed right into the carpet that began in the hallway, he was pushing hard and it really hurt. I started to scream out but he put his other hand over my mouth.

"I wouldn't be doing that if I were you, you fucking bitch!" His voice was no longer calm, it broke with anger and hatred.

"You send your bitch friend to tell me what to do?"

"Sssshe'ss... youurrr... ffrienddd."

"Did I tell your skank mouth to talk? Let's be clear, I'm the one talking here and you're the bitch who doesn't tell me who my friends are."

I didn't attempt to argue this point and he put an exclamation mark on it by grinding my forehead on the carpet. I was scared out of my mind. I had never been assaulted before and here was this 40 year old man, with his weight on top of me, telling me what I can say.

"She's just some whore that I fuck. Her pussy is good for something so I let her come back for more."

He was so nasty and so obscene. I never knew anyone could be so evil.

"And I bet, yours is a heck of a lot tighter..."

His hands pushed through my thighs and pressed against my tights as he ran his finger over my pussy.

He continued the nasty talk, "I bet some boys have blasted some loads from this. I bet you make them wear condoms...they're so dumb they think they have to...I think what you need is to take it from a man.."

I really only half understood the implications of this but I started thrashing as much as I could. Legs were still on the cold tiles of the entrance way and I was kicking the walls and hurting my feet. He seemed to relax the pressure on my lower body as if he enjoyed my squirming.

"Please no!" I screamed is a desperate plea.

The back of his hand hit me with such force that stars appeared in my vision. His hand gripped the back of my hair and pulled me up violently so my back was bent with the tops of my feet pressed against the floor.

"Not a single fucking word. I thought we understood each other by now." He said this while dragging me down the hallway.

He dropped me in the middle of the hallway, about half way to the bedroom. He took a knife out of his jacket pocket. I looked at him in stunned disbelief. I couldn't stop crying but I made every effort to be as quiet I could about.

"Now, you listen to me, and really listen little girl. We can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way. You understand that it doesn't matter which way to me. See to me, you're just a cunt. We can do this while you're breathing or while your not. I hope you completely understand what this means." His voice was dry, cold and unemotional, his dark eyes didn't seem to blink.

I nodded in agreement, making every effort that I could not to break the talking rule.

"Good, now here is what it going to happen, you're going to stand up and walk into the bedroom. When you get there you're going to take all your clothes off. You're going to get on your knees and wait for me. Is this clear little girl?"