Ruined: a Daphne Ridge Story

Letter One:

I Did This

I remember the night I met Lady Louise; it started with a wicked idea.

"She fell asleep, didn't she?" I whispered over the darkness.

You looked at me, then at your girlfriend under the plaid red blanket of your bed. You smirked.

"Of course she did. She hid under the covers for most of the movie, might as well make herself comfortable." You laughed, throwing off half of the covers. Your legs were getting too hot. I could almost feel the heat rising from the bed. I was sitting at the other end of it after all.

"We didn't have to watch Saw," I smiled. "She's been easily freaked since we were kids." I knew this of course, but I also knew she wouldn't risk looking weak in front of you, especially not when I was there. So when I suggested it, we were watching it, no matter what.

"Well, you would know, you're her best friend."

"And you're her boyfriend..." I smiled. You should know I had perfected that smile, not just for you. I practiced it in my bathroom mirror until the glint in my eye reflected back to me, until the dimple in my cheek looked so indented it nearly looked carved in. However, I will admit I perfected it for a night like this.

And you invited me.

I couldn't believe it. Darlene said it was your idea, and she had—I remember the joy I felt to this very hour—the smallest whiff of jealousy in her voice when she told me you wanted me there. You wanted me...

You caught my smile; of course you did, and looked away—at the glowing television screen, at the Hendrix poster hanging on the wall, at anything else...except me.

It was working.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror hanging on the back of her door and suddenly felt how easy it would be. Every glow in the room seemed to amplify what everyone since has called my "supple beauty". My breasts were cast in the pale glow of the movie trailer, my face lit up by the warm red glow of the lava lamp, flushed and youthful. I sat with my knee up, my denim skirt stretched across my thighs, and in between my knee swinging from left to right, I watched you stare at my pink panties underneath—pink with a little dark spot.

All I needed was the right lie.

"You know me and Darlene used to be really close," I began, biting my nails. "We even, um, experimented with each other I guess." I laughed; this caught your attention. Boys are all the same.

"You mean like..." You let your face finish the thought.

"Yeah, I mean, like that," I rolled my eyes. "In college, I had this boyfriend, if you could call him that. He liked it rough; he'd fuck me in the back of his van every day and because he was my first, I didn't know any better. I lost it to him humping me like a dog foaming at the mouth, imagine that...thank God it would always only last, like, two minutes..." I rolled my eyes again, actually annoyed at the memory, even then. Now, I've been trained to kill a man like that by Lady Louise. At eighteen, I just wanted to be wanted. But that night, and for years leading up to that night, all I wanted was you.

You shifted to hide your boner.

You could imagine it, couldn't you? The Daphne sitting in that bedroom with you was cherry-haired and reckless; sitting on a reputation of sticky summer night fumbling's with the Mississippi State football team. You knew of me through Darlene even if you didn't know me; but once upon a time, I was shy and downy, freckled and untouched.

I wanted you to imagine it—deeply.

I wanted you to imagine my hair swinging back and forth over my face. Imagine every freckle on my body, how my flesh would turn soft and pink when all the heat rose to the surface as I tried to hold my breath, wincing but trying not to show that virgin pain. And my titties finally grew in that semester. The girls said I had a boob job and the guys didn't seem to care. I was always skinny and pale and suddenly I had two milky breasts bouncing off my chest begging to be squished together and sucked on until they turned black and blue and pink. And for a long time I would let them in the parking lot... all those dry humping, backseat titty sessions that would leave them with sticky pants because I wanted to wait for you. I was sure you noticed me, that you were just waiting for the right time--

Then Darlene brought you home.

Imagine the heartbreak. No...imagine me. I wanted you to imagine me the way I imagined you. You always had me by the hips, fucking me with every inch of your dick that Darlene made sure to brag about. She knew I liked you. But I knew from friends of friends that you favored breasts like mine, and Darlene's tits looked like two little plastic bag tips filled with water. Nothing. She had nothing. And I... You couldn't stop staring at my breasts that night. I loved it.

I squinted as if to see inside your head. What were you thinking that night, Peter Hyde? I knew you would give your soul to see my tits bouncing in your face. You'd give anything to grab them. My top had a silver zipper going down the front; it would've been so easy. I toyed with the zipper. I felt so wet; your huge dick would've punctured me, wounded me probably. You would've had to hold my legs open...what were you thinking that night, Peter Hyde? Was it really for them?

"What are you thinking?" I asked. I broke. I had to know.

"Uh, just how much that must've sucked for you," You said, snapping back to reality.

Sure.

"Yeah," I said, sighing, resigning. "Fuck Bobby."

"Bobby? Bobby...Bowman?"

"Yeah?" My eyes got wide and I quickly covered my mouth with my hand to stifle my shock. "You know him?"

"Yeah, he's my brother's best friend. Fucking douchebag." But there was something about you. I couldn't quite place it then—a sudden guilt.

"He is!" I whispered excitedly, still stunned at the coincidence without recognizing it's true nature. I let it go. I wasn't focusing on Bobby Bowman, not when I was so close. "But anyway, Darlene would help me. She would..." Suddenly, against my will, I started blushing and giggling. You laughed. I know you never thought you'd see a shred of innocence left in me. I didn't realize I had much left myself.

"What? What would she do?" You egged playfully, but eagerly.

"She'd, um, kiss it for me when it was sore," I said, and then immediately looked up to gauge your reaction.

"You mean she'd eat you out?"

She nodded. "Softly, though. Like her tongue would lick all the spots that felt rough. She'd lick my clit with the tip of her tongue, and....it was like a snake or something, flicking it, so that I actually got wet instead of just being sticky from him. And when I came, he came out, and that was just a relief in itself. It always felt good...we only stopped that because, well, she started dating you." I smiled. "Lesbian until graduation I guess. I never thought she'd date a guy. There must be something special about you."

You smirked, "There's nothing special about me."

"I doubt that..."

The air started buzzing between us as a silence fell over the room, all but the white noise of the television screen, all glare and no action. Do you remember it as clearly as I do? You must've felt it. I saw you try to discipline yourself, to look away, but your defense crumbled when my knee finally stopped swinging, fully revealing myself under my skirt. My panties had moved to the side just a bit, revealing just a sliver of my palest and pinkest skin.

It was time.

"She wouldn't even know...she's a heavy sleeper."

"I...no, I can't. Daph."

"Don't you want to?" I asked. The rejection stung. As fucked up as it was...I was sure you were going to jump me. Your face fell into a look of pity, which was almost worse than the rejection itself.

"Yes. Well, no. Yes, because..." You took a deep breath and eyed me in all my glory. My perfect, round, snowy breasts heaved up and down with each breath of my own. You would tell me later all you wanted in that moment was to rip off my bra and take me in your mouth...but you didn't. "Hell yeah," you just said instead. "But no because I'm with Darlene. I'm saving myself for Darlene."

It was like a bucket of cold water.

"Saving yourself...?" I asked, my voice suddenly very dry and raspy.

"Yeah..."

I crossed my arms, unintentionally pushing up my breasts even more. "Oh. Okay."

"Look I want to. But, I like Darlene and...I don't know. I can't do that to her."

Sweet. Innocent. You were as sweet and innocent as the blonde curls inferred, as lovely and loyal as I always knew you to be. I have no idea why I thought I could break you that night; I have no idea why I wanted to. You were my last hope that there was goodness left in the world. But something came over me that night, a visit from Lilith, insatiable desire for the one thing I couldn't have and I decided I'd burn everything to have it.

I looked up at you, thrilled, smiling...warmed with the hellfire that had welcomed me home with open arms. One eyebrow rose as I said my wonderful idea—my wonderfully wicked idea: "Then we just won't have sex."

Before you even had a chance to catch on, I sprung from across the bed and kissed you... my soft lips to yours. I wanted your tongue in me; I used mine to invite your lips to open and they did. They finally did and you let me in, our faces flushed. I had my arm wrapped around your neck; you had your hands at my hips, a handful of flesh. We didn't even come up for air.

I straddled you, spread eagle, next to your girlfriend, and pushed my breasts against your chest, dry humping that throbbing boner nearly ripping out of your jeans. I just wanted to melt into you. Everything in that moment felt so right.

I pulled back for air only out of necessity but hardly wanted any. You looked down but I held your face up in my hands and kissed you again, until I decided to throw my head back and pillow your face into my breasts. I couldn't give you time to reconsider. I saw the guilt on your face. At the time, I thought it was because of Darlene, but I forgot she even existed, despite my knee moving with each grind right next to her hand. You, in turn, started kissing the crease of my cleavage, slowly, and then kissing turned into sucking. I unzipped the zipper and watched you watch me, as my breasts slowly fell into place—"You have perfect pink nipples" you choked out—before cupping them in your hands. About 150 different men have told me I have the breasts of a Celtic goddess now, but you were the first to really make me feel absolutely powerful. I couldn't help but grin at your awestruck face. I ran my hands through your hair, showing off, pleased that you couldn't seem to take your hands-mind-eyes off of me.

"You like?" I asked coyly.

"Like is an understatement...." You couldn't even look up at my face; you were mesmerized. "Oh fuck..." You moaned.

"Yeah, I see you staring at them all the time," I teased. It had been a long time coming hasn't it? You couldn't fool me, even after everything that you did. I knew you wanted me just as badly as I wanted you.

"Can you fucking blame me?"

I leaned down to kiss you again but you had other ideas. You pulled one nipple in your mouth and began sucking as if you were trying to draw milk. It hurt at first, but I gave into it. At least it was you, and this was new for you; if I had anything to give, it would be given to you. You tongued the tip of my nipple and grabbed at the other one. That felt good. I moaned and quickly covered my mouth with my hand. If she had woken up and ruined that moment for me; I would've killed her. You put your hands on the small of my back and pulled me closer, motor-boating them into oblivion as I pushed them up with the sides of my slender arms.

"That dick feels like it's throbbing..."

"Yeah, it might be," You said, before grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling me down for a kiss. You laid back on the bed and I was on top of you, held in your arms, dry humping each other and desperately trying to stay quiet, even though we were heavy breathing into each other's ears, lest we wake Darlene.

Slowly, I kissed my way down and toyed with your zipper.

"What?" You teased, your voice reaching huskiness I never heard before. "You don't know how to pull it down?"

"Shut up," I whispered, giggling. The sudden power shift brought me back to thirteen, when I first realized I had a crush on the boy next door. But of course I knew how to work a zipper. I pulled it down with my teeth, something I learned with the redneck boy who used to hang deer off his porch, and pulled out your hard cock, stroking it with my soft, small hand, which made you look gargantuan. Darlene was right. For a moment, I panicked that this was all for nothing. I worried that I wouldn't be able to fit you, all of you, in me and you would fall asleep disappointed instead of amazed, or that we'd forget about it tomorrow morning. It made me stall. I looked up at you, cat-eyed, between strands of glistening cherry hair: "Stand."

You did, excitedly—I think you knew where I was going—and I began to stroke your penis with my warm breasts instead. Every time the tip would poke out of my cleavage, I would greet it with my hot mouth, swirl the tip with my tongue or kiss it. I thought you would find it adorable.

Instead, you found it unbearable.

You grabbed a handful of my hair and forced me down on your dick, causing me to gag violently, as you throat fucked me, too wild with reckless ambition to care if you were hurting me. You were. My eyes got blurry and I felt like I was going to vomit. I felt like I was going to ruin everything. I just wanted you to like me. Finally, my body relaxed and I let you pound my face for what felt like an hour, spit and tears falling down my cheek and onto my thighs.

"I want to come in you, anywhere, everywhere..." You growled in a hushed voice.

I pressed my hands against your thighs to try to force you to stop humping my face, as the zipper was starting to scratch me. You did, but not before forcing your cock in the deepest reach of my throat and holding it there. I couldn't even gag. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I just squeezed your thighs, eyes tightly shut, begging for mercy. I felt you throbbing. I thought it would end right there. You must've looked down at my cherry red face, stretched wide and held in suspension, and felt some kind of pity. Maybe you were punishing me for bringing out this side of you. To this day, I never really figured out why causing me so much pain brought you so much pleasure.

You finally pulled out of me and I fell to the floor, shaking and trying not to vomit or cry. My eyes were glassy and my cheeks tear-streaked, my hand instinctively covered my mouth, both shocked and scared and trying to regain whatever power I had when I kissed you.

"Well, tiger..." I began to half-heartedly joke, "I wasn't expecting that."

"Yeah...neither were we..."

And there they were: Bobby Bowman and his two loser friends, still covered in grease and smelling like auto junk yards. Some things never change.

Their voices hung heavy in the air suspended between us all. My breasts were still hanging out; your dick was still pointing at my face. A slow string of spit dangled off the tip. Any sound, any breath, would've been too much to break it all apart, to wake Darlene and catch us. Bobby knew this; he stood there, grinning at me. Once again his brutality could overpower me at his whim.

"Hey, uh—" You snapped to, quickly putting yourself away and turning bright red before Darlene could pick up on the change in atmosphere, a dream turned nightmare sudden enough to wake herself up.

"Hey, uh..." Bobby teased, languidly walking towards you. He pulled out his wallet and from that, two dirty twenties.

You held out your hand.

He placed both in your open palm, and then snatched one away and waved it in your face. "We didn't say you could play with her too."

No.

You wouldn't do that. You couldn't do that.

I watched the transaction right before my eyes. I saw everything play out in front of me—the money exchange, the teasing at my expense, and I still couldn't believe it. He asked you if I felt good; you shrugged. He called me easy, a six out of ten, nothing to write home about, a vampire pussy because boys always left me before dawn and you didn't even look at me.

Then he turned his attention to me. "Well, well, well..." He started, eyeing me up and down like some wounded rabbit he was about to skin. "Look what we have here."

"Go away, Bobby," I said, shoving my breast back into my top and zipping it up.

"No, no, darlin' come on, we've all seen 'em," He said, grabbing my wrist and pulling my top so hard it broke my goddamn zipper. He pulled me up by that grip on my wrist and pulled me close; I could smell the beer on his breath. "What do you say, baby, for old time's sake?"

"I have a restraining order against you, Bobby," I said low, through grit teeth, as I struggled to break free of his grip. I tried maintaining any sense of modesty, dignity, by shielding my breasts with my one free arm.

You grabbed that wrist too and held me inches from your face, my breasts close enough to graze the fabric of your denim jacket. You looked down and bit your lip.

"Why do you think I had to enlist this fucking pogo stick over here?" He said, nodding to you. I looked at you. You did nothing but stare at the floor.

"Peter..." I choked out. Look at me, dammit, it was all I could think. Why didn't you look at me?

"Peter!" I yelled. Fuck it if I woke Darlene. Fuck it if she found out I was seconds away from fucking her boyfriend. Later, as you know, we'd figure out that she knew all along. That she let this shit happen to me as some kind of payback, but that night I didn't care. I would've woken up the whole neighborhood if it meant getting you to face me, but Bobby's hand covered my mouth. He scooped me up like a rag doll; my breasts squished up against his hairy arm as one of his goons grabbed my legs and carried me, squirming to break free, out of Darlene's room and into the basement. Tears fell from my eyes and blurred my vision of you, but still for a second, I saw you finally look up at me. And then I saw you follow.

The boy's hushed laughter echoed down the basement stairs. When we reached the cement floor, they finally let me down. Dropped me, actually, would be more accurate. You were still dangling at the top of the stairs; I saw the outline of your shadow from that dingy light.

Before I could scramble away, Bobby grabbed me by my ankle and had one of his goons, who I'd later find out was named Gil, grab the other one. They held my legs up and open as wide as they could spread them.

All they saw were my pink panties in the way—and not for much longer.

"Aw, she was horny," Bobby smirked. "Horny for us, baby? You want this dick?"

"Get off of me, Bobby!" I screamed, struggling to keep my legs together but those struggles only made them pull my legs wider, higher above my head. You must've heard me wincing, scared. You must've heard them laughing.

Bobby ripped off my panties by the seam along my thigh and spit into his hand.

"You want this cock?"

I cringed. My last attempt at breaking free of their grip faded away into a numb acceptance. He rubbed his vein-ridden dick up and down, looking like he was about to jerk off on my face. That would've been a reprieve, but no. He handed my ankle to Gil and crawled on top of me, spit on my pussy, missing, and started rubbing my clit with his cock, much too proud.

I hated that it felt good. I hated that I started to get wet at feeling a throbbing, warm penis against my pussy, throbbing with a pulse of it's own. He heard my breath get faster, heavier—

"Oh, yeah," He growled, "now that sounds familiar."

He pushed inside me and my head fell back. I couldn't help it. I so desperately wanted it to be you, but my body wanted it to be anyone, so much so that even Bobby would do. Eventually Gil realized that even if he let go of my legs, I wouldn't fight to get away anymore, so he let go and my legs stayed in the air, moving back and forth in time with Bobby's thrusts. I leaned on my elbows and let my breasts bounce, giving in. Every ounce of shame that I had for being such an easy whore in that moment faded away as Bobby fucked me, as every inch of him slammed into my pussy, as his balls smacked against me—that familiar wet sound that meant some boy was ravaging me and loving it. I loved it. I hated it, Peter, but I fucking loved it.