I was the girl in high school that watched porn. I mean, I think most girls probably did since I went to a public school and not some private Baptist penitentiary. But me, I watched it and talked about it. Guys called me "dude" without thinking and I was vulgar enough that most girls didn't hang around me.
I liked the rough stuff. I didn't talk about that part of my viewing preferences, but 'rough' was a recurring search term late in the evening. I was always like that and I couldn't really find guys that were comfortable with it later on. I'm a junior and I've found that no matter how many tattoos I get, how sweet my mohawk is, or how many body parts I can pierce, guys don't wanna fuck me hard enough. It made me resent men, to be honest. I think that's part of why I started taking feminist history classes. Men wouldn't give me what I wanted.
I started working in a call center over the summer which forced me to be around a true variety of people. Older men that had been laid off and ran out of options, younger guys that finished high school with no plans or applicable skills, women that bought more boots than their part-time job at TJ Maxx could fund, and people like me. Not a lot of friends and not a lot of family support.
I wasn't looking for anything relationship-wise at the time, but it had been awhile. I was average height, thin, hair dyed jet black, tattoos, small breasts but a round ass. I got attention and then I got attention. My perceived "attitude" (i.e. person with tattoos) and personality made me hotter than I probably am. Even then, I didn't get much attention there. Except for one guy.
He was a bit taller than me, and strong. Not buff or ripped, but he looked like he could probably dead-lift a car off the ground. He was staring at me one day and I caught him. He didn't break eye contact. He just smiled and that made me smile. On my last break I ran into him near my locker.
"Hey, you're new," he said, leaning against the wall.
"What, you have a superpower and it's sniffing out noobs?" I shot back, playfully.
"Sure. Look, um..." he looked around for a second, like he was about to buy drugs from me.
"What?" I asked.
"I wanna fuck you."
I didn't say anything right away. My face went red and I was filled with conflicting emotions. I was a little pissed that he would be so forward to a girl whose name he didn't even know. I also had fantasies that would, on occasion, feature a similar bit of dialogue.
"That's cool," was all I could think of to say.
"I don't want to know your name," he said, never breaking eye contact.
"I don't want to know yours."
"I get off at seven tonight, are you busy?"
"Well," I tried to think of a lie instinctively, but for some reason I just blurted out, "no, not at all."
"Are you interested?" he asked.
"What makes you think I'm not going to just report your ass to Human Resources as soon as you leave?" I fired at him, partially testing him but also serious.
"Let's just say you weren't entirely wrong about my superpower."
I thought for a second, not wanting to answer immediately. It had been awhile, and wondered if maybe this might be the guy that finally nails it home.
"Okay. But I like it rough. Can you give it to me rough?" I asked, a slight, seductive smile across my face. I raised the bottom of my shirt a little bit and rubbed a hand across my stomach.
"I think I can handle that."
I pulled out a notepad from my locker and scribbled my address down. I handed it over.
He looked it over and than looked right at me. He said, "I'll be there at 7:30. Don't wear anything you'd miss if it were destroyed. The safe word is 'Omaha'. Don't forget that."
"Right, 'Omaha'." I said, feeling myself get warm down below.
"If you forget it, that's your own fault." With that, he turned and left. I couldn't believe what I had just agreed to. I went back to my desk, late. I could barely focus the rest of my shift. When I clocked off, I walked by him, smiling and waving. He just flat out ignored me. I thought for a second that maybe I had just imagined all of that interaction. I went straight home and showered. I put on an old pair of jeans and an old Kinks t-shirt that had various small holes throughout. I sat down on my day bed to read and left the door unlocked.
The clock read 7:31 and I was getting anxious. Then I heard footsteps outside. I didn't get up, just kept reading, playing it cool. Suddenly, the door flew open and he was standing there. He was wearing a white shirt, jeans, and some boots. I was startled but managed to not look up at him. The game was on, I thought. He walked over to me, snatched the magazine out of my hands and threw it across the room.
"Hey, I was reading that!" I shouted but was immediately stifled by the force of his hand slapping me across my face.
"I don't remember telling you to say anything." I was frazzled. 'Omaha' flashed in my mind but I immediately let it go. I thought maybe I wasn't as prepared for this as I could have been.
"I'm sorry, I-," SMACK again. I put my hand up to my cheek and felt the heat on my fingers.
"Stand up." He demanded. I was turned on but a little upset at the idea of being bossed around like this. I wasn't sure this was the kind of rough I was looking for. I stood up.
"Turn around." I turned around.
"Undress." I undressed.
"Hands behind your back, crossed." I cross my arms behind me. I felt the rough texture of twine on my skin and I looked over my shoulder to see. He grabbed my head and pushed it forward.
"I didn't tell you to look at me."
Without thinking, I blurted, "I'm sorry." I waited for a slap, but it didn't come. Instead, he grabbed my long, black hair and pulled my head backwards.
"If you address me, you address me as 'sir'," he whispered. I had wanted to be fucked hard for so long, but I just wasn't ready yet. 'Omaha' flashed in my head again. I had never verbally submitted to someone like this before, and all my women's history classes roared in my head in defiance to submitting to such a bullheaded man.
"Yes, sir," I mumbled.
SMACK. He open-hand slapped my ass so hard my voice cracked as I let out a small squeak of surprise.
"What was that, bitch?"
"Yes, sir," I said loudly. He called me a bitch! All my conversations with girlfriends about the demeaning words men used to exert dominance ran through my head. He was tying that twine really tight around my wrists, I could barely move them if I tried. 'Omaha' flashed again and was gone.
"Turn around." I obeyed. He put his right hand on my face, smushing my cheeks as he talked.
"You want to get fucked tonight?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," I said.
"You're not good enough." he said.
"What?" I said, confused.
SMACK. This time he slapped my right tit so hard I thought I was going to cry. 'Omaha' flashed and was gone.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. I said, you're not good enough."
I tear slipped down my cheek. My head was full of frustration but my pussy was sopping wet . I didn't even know I had enough tit to even slap.
"Do you think you're good enough for my cock?"
I found it hard to look him in the eye. I wasn't sure what would set him off. I was mad that I was just letting myself be controlled like this.
"No."
SLAP, my other tit this time.
"No, sir."
"Say it."
I couldn't believe I was going to. "I'm not good enough for your cock, sir."
"That's goddamn right." He reached under my and put his hand over my pussy. He moved it around, not penetrating, just testing the wetness, I thought. A moan escaped my lips, surprisingly.
"You wanna see my cock?" I did.
"Yes, sir."
"Do you think you're good enough to see my cock?" I started to say 'yes', but I stopped myself.
"No, sir." He smiled.
"Correct."
"Please, sir. Can I please see your cock?" I wanted to see it, but I also just wanted to know that this was all worth it. I was afraid he was going to pull out some two-inch flaccid stub.
"You're not as stupid as you look," he said. I couldn't believe. Just when I thought he couldn't get anymore demeaning, he managed to out-do himself.
"On your knees, whore." I resented the latest slur, but found myself on my knees regardless. Then he pulled it out. It was... huge. Thick, long, and like the rest of him, it look strong. "Think you can fit this in your throat?"
"No, sir."
"Do you deserve this cock?"
"No, sir."
"Why don't you deserve it?" I wasn't sure what I should say. This was all new to me.
"I... I-I don't know, sir."
"Maybe it's because you're a whore." I knew I was going to say it, and I didn't even try and stop myself.
"I don't deserve it because I'm a whore, sir."
"Bend over the couch, stay on your knees." I did.
SLAP. He hit me right across my ass with so much force I couldn't help but squeal.
"Ow!"
SLAP. Again.
"What was that?" he demanded.
SLAP.
"Fucking scream again, bitch!" he yelled.
SLAP. 'Omaha'. I could see it.
"Can you not hear me?" he was very demanding.
SLAP.
"Please, sir, I want your cock!" I shouted.
SLAP.
"Face me." I obeyed.
"Open your mouth." I opened.
He grabbed my hair with one hand and squeezed. It hurt and tried hard not to make a sound. With his free hand, he guided his cock into my mouth, sitting the head in my mouth. "Do you feel like a whore?" he asked me.
"Yes, sir," I mumbled on his fat cock. He pulled it out and aimed my head up towards him. He spit a huge loogie on my face which was kind of gross. He spit again, and then rubbed it over my face and pushed his fingers into my mouth. Saliva was accumulating and he was wiping it around my lips. He pulled his fingers out and then forcefully tried cramming his cock into my mouth. He slowly moved it in and out, inching it deeper and deeper. I could only take so much and started gagging. When I did, he pulled it out and slapped me across the face.
