Robbed of My Cherry

Warning: non-consensual sex.

Two things kept my twin sister and me huddled in our living room all day long.

The first was the heat. It was the middle of summer. The sun was scorching, and the air was as hot as an oven. Not a good day for the tennis match we had planned. So instead of donning our sports skirts, we slipped into flowy tea dresses and lounged our sofa under the cool supervision of our newfangled 'air conditioning' contraption. We had our servant-girls prepare freshly squeezed lemonade that we sipped as we nibbled buttery scones. The advantage of being daughters to a multimillionaire heiress was that as soon as we turned 18, Mummy had gifted us an entire hilltop estate. Three floors, five bedrooms, two servants, a glorious view of the ocean, a pool, and many acres of surrounding hilly forestland with no soul in sight -- all to us young ladies.

The other thing keeping us indoors was the breaking news. In the morning as our servant-girls prepared our hair and applied our makeup, we happened to glance the Wednesday paper. The headlines screamed warnings of last night's breakout at the top-security prison on the island just a few miles offshore. Thankfully most of the escaped convicts had been rounded up within an hour, but two still eluded capture. Nobody knew if those two men remained on the island or had braved the deadly swim over here to the mainland. As we gazed out our window to the town several miles downhill, we shuddered to think that two dangerous, ruthless, perhaps

murderous

men could be lurking so close to us!

We wrung our hands all morning until we started to feel dizzy, and since we both had a history of fainting, we decided to prescribe a distraction. After luncheon, we busied ourselves with our two favorite things in the world: nail polish and gossip. Now, I was a girly girl. My radiant femininity was my most cherished quality, and I wanted the world to see it. So I selected the very brightest pink in our vast collection of vials. My sister Annabelle on the other hand chose a dark blue. Deep down she was just as girly as I, but she was also shy and didn't care to embrace clichés as much as I

loved

to do so. I hoped I would someday bring her out of her shell.

I lounged the sofa while Annabelle sat on the armchair adjacent. The sun beamed through the great floor-to-ceiling windows behind us as we softly brushed each other's nails, taking great care not to smudge any polish.

"Have you overheard the news about Miss Waters and Mr. Mason?" asked Annabelle.

"Indeed," I said. "He's taking her for a romantic vacation on the Continent to celebrate their engagement."

"I hear he booked the honeymoon suite at their resort -- only one bed. Rumors say he has certain...

plans

... for their first night."

I gasped. "Before marriage?"

Annabelle nodded with a demure smile. We erupted into giggles and sipped more lemonade with shaking hands. Now that our servant-girls were out at the market to fetch fresh fruit, our conversation was straying into territory not quite befitting the noble ladies that we were. But boredom demanded entertainment.

"Any developments between you and Mr. Avery?" prodded Annabelle.

"No, absolutely zero," I sighed. "Have I mentioned that he and I have been attending balls together for six months now? He has kissed the back of my hand no less than 23 times, but never have his gorgeous lips strayed even close to my own?"

"You have mentioned, dear sister -- several times."

"My beloved Mr. Avery is a wonderful young man, don't get me wrong," I added. "He is considerate and gentle and everything that Mummy told us to look for in men."

"But?"

"But... I don't know! Is it improper for me to say that he is

too

considerate? That he is too well educated on how to treat a lady? Too well tamed? He fears making any move or showing any desire that could make me feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. It's as if I'm a fragile antique sculpture which could shatter at the faintest touch, which can only be placed atop a shelf and dusted occasionally, never brought down and

used

. He never places his hand where it doesn't belong. He never asks for things he shouldn't ask for. He never lets his eyes stray where they shouldn't, even when I specifically wear gowns that highlight my feminine figure. Sometimes I wish he would seize my shoulders, dig his fingernails deep into my skin until I'm gasping for air, and then finally claim my lips for his own."

I would never have admitted it aloud, but sometimes late at night when I lied restless in bed, I would wish for something more. I wished Mr. Avery would seize me by two

other

parts of my body, dig his fingers deeply

somewhere else

until I was gasping for air, and then finally claim a

different

priceless prize of mine. But those thoughts were shameful for a lady even to think.

"I feel," I went on, "as though chains have been suffocating my soul all my life. If only the lock could be opened, my soul would soar into a realm of divine fulfillment and I would finally become who Fate destined me to be. The key lurks right in my beloved's possession, taunting me. Only he refuses to use it."

I knew it was unbecoming for a lady to let her emotions flood out like this. But something about that day -- maybe the brutal heat or the danger outside -- filled me with daring.

"Do you recall when Mummy sat us down years ago and warned us of men?" I asked. "How she convinced us that all men were wild animals who would snatch every opportunity to rip our dresses and defile our maidenhoods without care for any protests we might voice; that we must protect our purity viciously and never

ever

give into a man's desires, no matter how forcefully he pursues us."

"I recall vividly," piped Annabelle. "I was ghastly terrified!"

"Quite so! My heart was racing up my throat. I prayed and prayed that her warnings would turn out to be false. Nowadays, I'm starting to wonder if they are indeed false."

"I suppose that's a wonderful thing, though. Any lady would be relieved to know that men are trustworthy and treat women gently and respectfully."

"Yes, of course, and I am relieved."

"But?"

I slipped the brush back into the vial and sighed. "But... could there be a small part within you that tires of the safety of handholding and delicate flirting? Could there have been something exhilarating when our hearts were pummeling our chests?"

Annabelle hesitated. She took a stern tone. "It would be unladylike to feel such ways."

"Of course. I know. And I'm sorry, I'm being foolish for even discussing such matters."

We averted our gazes awkwardly. My cheeks had flushed bright red. We stared around the room for several moments. Then our eyes grazed paths. Every once in a while, she and I have a moment of silent clarity -- a moment when two sisters wordlessly peer into each other's souls and understand the deepest, most carefully guarded thoughts within. That was what happened in this moment. Annabelle recognized the desire -- the desperation -- gnawing inside me, and I could see that she too was wrestling with just as hungry a desire. Her boyfriend, like mine, was considerate and safe and adored by our Mummy. Something in her wanted more.

Before I could break the tense silence, three heavy thumps came from the front door. Thank goodness for the interruption. Annabelle and I resumed our polishing for several moments until suddenly I recalled that our servant-girls were out all afternoon. No wonder nobody was rushing to answer the door. I glanced at my feet. Tissues were weaved between my toes to allow the polish to dry. I sighed and rose from the sofa, carefully waddling toward the door on bare heels.

"If this door-knocker causes me to smudge even a droplet of paint, I shall become quite flustered, I must say."

It was rare to get unexpected visitors. The only access to our estate was a narrow road that snaked up a steep hill to a gravel clearing. Our house sprawled down the face of that hill, our front door and living room on the top level, bedrooms below.

Three more pounds thundered against the mahogany and this time a deep voice boomed "POLICE, OPEN UP!" Annabelle and I exchanged wide eyes. I hurried to unlatch the locks. As soon as I did, the door burst open, almost sending me toppling over. Two officers stood on the doorstep, both towering a full foot taller than me, and both with arms as thick as tree trunks. The one who thrust the door spoke with a gravelly, assertive voice.

"Afternoon, ma'am. I'm Officer Reeves and with me is Lieutenant Cox."

"Cock," his partner corrected.

"Sorry. Lieutenant Cock."

Officer Reeves flashed his golden badge. The two officers barged inside, bowing their heads under the doorframe. I was forced to shuffle off the doormat.

"Ma'am," Reeves continued, "I'm sure you're aware of the escaped convicts roaming this area. We need to search your premises, make sure the lawbreakers aren't hiding here."

"Oh my. Yes, sirs," I spluttered. "Whatever you need."

By now my cheeks were radiating red and my heart was pumping. The officers strode into our living room and gazed all around. Annabelle was still seated in the armchair, legs crossed tightly as a sailor's knot, clearly as flustered as I.

"It's just you two girls on the premises?" asked Officer Reeves.

"Yes, sir."

"Stay where you are," he commanded. "This won't take long." He directed Lieutenant Cock to the staircase while he himself peered into the pantry adjoining our living room.

I did as he said and stood rooted next to the coatrack. The front door still hung ajar just beyond my reach. I was tempted to shuffle over and shut it. But Officer Reeves had instructed me not to move, and I am nothing if not respectful of authority.

Annabelle and I simply watched the men as they poked around. Reeves wore a dark-blue uniform topped with a police hat, but Cock for some reason was dressed in civilian clothes: jeans and a brown lumberjack shirt. Must have come from some undercover operation, I figured. If I had glanced him from a distance I might have mistaken him for Jimmy, the burly fisherman who lived a few miles down the road. Jimmy always wore lumberjack shirts in that exact color.

Cock soon descended the spiral staircase to the lower floors, leaving us girls alone with Reeves. As the stone-faced officer turned to and fro, I noticed his scars. One ran through his eyebrow. Another sliced across the back of his hand. And a particularly deep one started at his collarbone and fell downward beneath his shirt. Under those clothes must have lied a tangle of powerful muscles. Every little flex of his arms caused bulges against the tight fabric of his shirt, the pressure almost sending buttons popping off. Clearly he was long overdue for an upsizing of that uniform.

Thank goodness these gentlemen were here to protect us. If we were alone with two towering bodybuilders who had anything other than noble intentions, I would rightfully have a heart attack!

I averted my gaze. As Mummy had always reminded us, it was unladylike to fawn over a man's body, especially his muscles. A proper lady was attracted to a man's intellect, to his knowledge of philosophy and poetry, not to his abilities to lift her over his head or wrestle a grizzly bear into submission. Next to this giant, my beloved Mr. Avery would look like a twig -- but not that any of that would matter to a proper lady like me!

I rattled my head to refocus myself. A dozen questions bubbled to mind. I raised a hand high in the air. Reeves continued searching and ignored me. Eventually I cleared my throat as politely as I could.

"Excuse me, sir. I was just wondering, do you think those prisoners really could be lurking right under our noses?"

"Could be anywhere," he grumbled.

"Oh my goodness. We have been wringing our hands all day over that possibility. Our estate is quite isolated, you see. In fact, not another soul lives within two miles. Mummy always instructed us to be careful because of that. A couple maidens living alone without a male protector, we might be prime targets for men who wish to rob us or do...

ungentlemanly

things with us. I shudder to think that nobody could hear us if we were to scream. But I feel much safer now that you kind gentlemen are here. We are in no danger now, right?"

"Not if you do exactly what we say."

"Understood, sir. Thank you, sir."

He turned to the stairs. "C'MON, WHAT'S TAKIN' SO LONG!"

I twisted my heel into the carpet. "I bet you've had a long day, sir. Lots of houses to search. May I offer you a beverage? Perhaps lemonade? Anything for our brave boys in blue." I often became overly bubbly when I was nervous -- especially when in the presence of tall men.

Reeves grunted. I took that as a yes and scuttled past him to the pantry, accidentally brushing my arm against his taut chest. A tingle ran through me. Careful not to smudge my polished fingernails, I used my palms to open the cabinets and then to clumsily pour a glass of lemonade from the pitcher. It had been weeks since I had last set foot in the pantry; I struggled to remember where the servants kept everything. Occasionally I do enjoy playing the role of servant for a visitor. Although I would

never

admit it to my dear Mr. Avery, deep down I think there's a corner in every woman's soul that just wants to please men in any way possible. I handed the cup to Officer Reeves with a smile.

"Anything else I can do for you, sir?"

He grunted and took the glass. I'm afraid to say, my heart fluttered when his sharp hunter eyes slid over my body, all the way from my delicately curled cascading brown hair, over my $2,000 shiny pearl necklace, down my flowing floral tea dress, across the ruffles of the pink petticoat just barely peeking out at my knees, and finally to my smooth, freshly waxed legs.

Lieutenant Cock re-emerged from the staircase. "No good," he muttered to Reeves. "There's a big forest out back, but it'd be easy to get cornered in. Not many places to run. Think we should keep lookin'."

"And cash?" asked Reeves.

"Seems to be all locked in a safe. Even with tools it'd take an hour to bust."

Reeves grimaced. His eyes probed the living room again, lingering on the priceless antique vase atop our coffee table. He pondered something but then shook his head and tore his gaze away.

I piped up: "So you don't think we're targets for those criminals?"

Reeves smirked. "No, princess, you ain't. Lieutenant Cox and I will--"

"Cock," interjected his buddy.

"Oh Jesus. What the fuck kind of a name is 'Cock?' Who in the fuck is called that?"

"Dude, plenty of people are called that. Even some burlesque dancers I've seen, heh heh."

"That's 'Cox,' you idiot."

"Whatever, dude. Just let me go with it. 'Cock' sounds more badass. Like a cocked gat. Or a hard--"

I cleared my throat. "Excuse me, sirs, but I fear your language may be inappropriate for the ears of two ladies."

There was silence for several moments as Reeves looked at me, his eyes narrowing. "Yeah. That's a good point," he muttered. "They

are

ladies." His lips curved into a hint of a greedy grin.

Cock tugged at his arm. "C'mon man I don't care if they're fuckin' models or princesses, we gotta get movin'."

"We already been movin' for over twelve hours," barked Reeves. "It's time for a break. Time to relax. Time to indulge."

"Man, they could be right on our tails, ready to bust in any second. We don't got time!" Cock cleared his throat and turned to us: "Erhm, I mean we need to keep trackin' them prisoners, ma'ams."

He again tugged his buddy's arm but Reeves stood strong. The man's predator eyes never strayed from me. They simply bored deeper and deeper into my body, sending shivers down my spine.

"Don't tell me you've turned into a fuckin' pussycat, Cock. Scared of a little risk?"

Reeves marched to the doorway. But instead of exiting, he slammed the door shut. Annabelle and I jolted with faint squeaks. One by one Reeves firmly bolted each lock.

"Pardon me, officer," I piped, "but I must protest--"

"Sit down."

His tone was final, leaving no option for disobedience. I hesitated for a moment, my insides squirming. Then slowly I treaded back to the sofa, folded my dress, and sat. It made me shudder to submit to the order of a man I barely knew, but now I was starting to feel weary of the way his muscles bulged. The fear pooling inside my heart told me to do anything other than disobey.

"How long's it been," Reeves rumbled to his buddy, "since you even stood this close to a woman?"

"8 years I s'pose."

"I've got ya beat: 12. Fuck, isn't this what we been dreamin' about every night in those rotten bunks, every mornin' in those cold showers. Two ripe young ones like these."

"My apologies but I must beg your pardon, sir!" I yelped.

The men simply stared at me as if in a trance. Reeves continued: "And hey, prissy little princesses like 'em tend to be protective of their cherries. Meanin' we get to be the first to stretch out 'em tight muffins. Fuck it, if I can just bust a nut on one of 'em dolled-up faces, not even another life sentence in the slammer would faze me."

"The

slammer

!?" I gasped and clutched my heart along with Annabelle. "You scoundrels! I should have seen it from the moment I set eyes on that -- forgive me for saying --

sordid

gaze of yours! Pretending to protect us from dangerous men while you in fact bore the danger! How could you betray two ladies' trust! Shame on you!"

Reeves simply chuckled.

For the first time, Annabelle piped up. "What did you do to the real owner of that uniform, you... you... you vulgar man!"

"Let's just say Officer Reeves ain't gonna be walkin' straight for the next few days."

Cock tugged at his undersized lumberjack shirt with a smirk. "Same with Joe Shmoe here, heh heh.

If

he ever gets up, that is."

I had half a mind to swipe a fist at them, but I restrained myself because I knew it would do nothing and merely leave my hand messy with pink polish. If they had truly gotten the best of the mountainous man that was our friend Jimmy -- a thought which burned my heart with panic -- then two petite 22-year-old girls with milky skin and paper-thin arms would fare as well as a tower of playing cards in a fight. I darted my eyes wildly around the room. The two savages stood between us and the front entrance -- no chance there. Behind us was the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. No luck there either, for it was a 40-foot drop down to the trees in the steep valley below. And besides, even if we could escape the estate, we would need to run miles in bare feet through dense, hilly forestland before we could find a man to protect us -- which might not even be enough.

The two bears approached, step by step. "Which one you want?" Cock asked his buddy.

"Help yourself to the shy mare. I like this talkative one. She's feisty. Got a fight in her. I like how her lips pout when she's angry. Reminds me of my favorite street whore back in the ol' days."

I scrunched my face in seething rage. Then I twisted my lips a different way simply to spite his comment.

"C'mere, princess."

"I must protest this deplorable diminutive. You will address me by my name: Miss--"

"I will address you by whatever the fuck I want, girl," barked Reeves. "You're a pretty head with plump lips, two jiggling milk jugs and a warm slit. I don't care what your name is."

He placed one knee on the sofa. His buddy reached Annabelle's chair. She let out a cry as Cock wrapped two iron-hard hands around her wrists and pressed her deep into the cushions. I bolted upright to dash to her aid only to meet another pair of piston-like hands. They shoved me back onto the sofa and clamped my wrists in an X right above my head. I struggled with all my might but couldn't force an inch. It was like trying to bend steel. Reeves -- or whatever his name truly was -- pushed his stubbly, grinning maw right up close to my neck. I felt like a bunny waiting to have its throat torn out by a wolf. He inhaled deeply, taking in my strawberry perfume. The scent only riled him up more. Ignoring my yelps of protest, he transferred both my wrists to one hand and used the other to unfasten his belt, pull off his trousers and then slowly unbutton his shirt. I squirmed. It was agonizing waiting for him to undo the buttons one by one, revealing his broad, sweaty chest inch by inch. I clenched my eyes closed to protect my innocence.