Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
*****
Kara tip-toes around the kitchen in her robe, quietly opening and closing each cabinet she finds. She is looking for the wine glasses - and the wine.
She strikes out. All that's left to check is the cabinet above the microwave. She stands on her toes and stretches her hands out high above her head, wiggling her fingers to get closer to the door knob. Her robe inches higher, exposing her bare ass, giving her little goosebumps.
Drat, she snaps in her head, and comes down off her toes. It's gotta be in there. Where else would Uncle Bud keep it?
She eyes the counter, doubting whether she can make it all the way up. She's only a little over five feet even, making her only-palm-sized breasts seem big, relative to her height. She shrugs. Kara tries to quietly scramble up onto the counter top. She makes it finally, no harm done, but her silk robe comes untied in the process. Swaying to get her balance for a moment, she knocks a olive oil bottle down with a loud crash.
Shit. She doesn't want to be caught by Uncle Bud - he's so serious, she doesn't know what he would do if he found her ransacking the alcohol. He doesn't seem the type to just "let things go."
She waits a moment, but hearing nothing, reaches up to open those pesky little sky-high cabinets, the robe hitching up again.
Where is... a-Ha! Fucking yass!
Her hands curl around a tall, blue glass bottle and she brings it down to peer at the label - not wine, but a tequila. Corralejo? Whatever. As long as the tequila is clear inside its blue bottle, it's perfect for stealing and re-filling with water. Uncle Bud'll never know.
"The hell you think you're doing?" asks a deep, quiet voice from behind her.
Kara gasps and drops the bottle as she whips her body around. The bottom of the blue bottle smashes, clear liquor spilling into a puddle at her feet. The neck of the bottle spins slowly, drunkenly, surrounded by chunks of broken glass.
Uncle Bud, wearing only white boxer shorts and carrying a baseball bat, is leaning against the door frame. He briefly glances down at the wet spots now splashed on his boxers.
"Oh, god, sorry Uncle Bud. Fuck. I mean — um, just, so sorry about that. I was just - oh shoot, I'll clean it up, I was just looking for... some water... and..."
She panting now, her chest moving up and down rapidly, as she panics. Uncle Bud doesn't respond, but walks silently, slowly towards her.
"You were stealing yourself some booze." His voice is flat, eyes emotionless. It isn't posed as a question. Fuck.
His hands shoot out and grab her hips. She's kneeling on the counter with her butt resting on her heels. She blushes fiercely, as her breasts, exposed by the untied robe, fall just at his eye level. She reaches to pull her robe close, but freezes as he looks up, locking eyes with her. He bares his teeth, and then with a small growl, shoots his jaw forward to savagely bite down on her right nipple. His left hand shoots up to cover her mouth, which muffles her quick, surprised shriek; the bite is over in a second.
Uncle Bud pulls back and uses that same hand to tilt her chin down so she is looking him in the eyes. Her dark pink nipple stands out proudly from her honey-colored skin, pointing like a finger at him.
"How fucking dare you. Little shit. I agree to give you free rent and board all summer before college, and this is how you repay me? In just the first week?" He jerks her chin side-to-side a little with each word.
"Sorry Unc-"
He covers her mouth again.
"Be silent. Don't say a word. I don't want to wake up your aunt upstairs. Nod your head yes or shake your head no. Do you understand you misbehaved, sweet niece?"
Kara, her eyes wide, her body trembling, nods her head. She hopes Uncle Bud will know how sorry she is, even if he won't let her open her mouth. That bite hurt. It also felt... well, never mind.
"Good. At least you know that. Do you also understand I have to punish you, little graduate?"
Kara nods again. She is ready to hear the worst - grounded for the rest of the summer after high school? No beach trips with friends? What if he tell hers parents?!
As if he can read her mind, he says, "Good. Do you want me to tell your parents about this, Kara?"
She bleats a heated "NO!" against the palm covering her mouth, and shakes her head for emphasis.
"Stop disobeying me. I said do not say a word, didn't I?"
She opens her mouth to protest, and he pushes his hand against her mouth harder, pressing her head into the cabinets behind her. She squeezes her eyes shut in fear, and then gives a small nod to show she understands.
"If your parents knew, that would be the worst possible outcome, wouldn't it? They'd make you stay inside all summer, alone, wouldn't they?"
She nods, her eyes tearing a little.
"You'd do anything to make sure they never found out, wouldn't you? Any punishment is better than theirs?"
Kara stared at him for a moment. Was he... what was he thinking of? Was this a trick question? He was standing very close to her. She thought about being kept inside the rest of summer, never being able to see Peter, her boyfriend, before she left. Never convincing him it would be a fucking shame for her to go to college a virgin. He is sweet and smart, but goddamnit, she happens to be dating the one eighteen-year-old boy in the world who's also a prude.
Kara nods down to her uncle. Yes, she will do whatever it takes.
"Smart girl," he says approvingly. Then he smirks at her. "You wanted the alcohol? Well, your punishment is: you get the alcohol. Get down on your knees and lick that mess up."
Kara's eye shoot open, thinking she is mishearing him - or is he joking? But no, Uncle Bud steps back and releases her, to let her come down, and gestures to the puddle expectantly. Oh, well. I guess I deserve this. It makes a sick kind of sense to her.
She slips down and lowers herself slowly onto her knees and hands, facing him, the hem of her robe not quite long enough to cover her round ass when she's on all fours.
Kara tilts her head up, pleading with her eyes. This is so humiliating. And that'a a lot of tequila, right? Kara hasn't ever drunken tequila before, but she's pretty sure you're only supposed to have a little.
Cotton crinkles as her uncle bends down and picks up the shards of blue glass with his fingers. She waits on her hands and knees, watching him. When he is satisfied he's picked up all the bits, he nods at her, as if to say, Well, get to it.
She obediently lowers her head down and begins lapping up some of the spilt tequila. Her nipples are low enough to skim the surface of the puddle, dipping into the sticky mess. Lick, lick, lick; pause. She squeezes her lips together and shudders a little. It's a shocking, weird taste. She doesn't know if she likes it yet.
