Justins Descent Part 1
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Just Pretend
"Oh. What do you want?" Yes, Freddie was being rude. Considering the person in front of him, however, it was entirely justified. Sam walked right past him, not even saying anything until she got to his fridge. Clearing his throat didn't stop her from searching through it.
"What's up, don't you have any meat?" she asked, looking at him as if that was his fault. Freddie had eaten the last bacon that day at breakfast, so technically it was his fault, but for her to come into his house wanting to eat it was a much more heinous offence. Of course, pointing that out to Sam would be a wasted effort.
"My mom's out shopping for groceries right now." Realising his mistake, he quickly added: "She won't be back for an hour, so don't bother waiting for it. She wouldn't let you have it anyway." Much to his surprise, Sam merely shrugged, sat down on the couch and started looking for the remote.
"Not here for your meat. Well, not primarily. Nobody home at Carly's, so I'm just waiting for her." She had found the remote and was now trying to get into a comfortable position. "Heh, look at those elephants..."
"Do you have to wait for her here?" Freddie asked, standing in front of the TV.
"I can't wait in the hallway, can I?" Sam tilted her head to see past Freddie, not really paying attention to the conversation.
"Yes, you can."
"Yeah, but I don't wanna. Be a dear and get Mama a pillow, would you?"
"No."
"Ugh… Fine, I'll get one myself."
With visible annoyance, she lifted herself up from his couch and walked towards his room. Freddie didn't even bother protesting anymore. When she entered, her reaction was exactly the same as every other time she was around. Which, sadly, meant almost every week.
"Wow, it looks even dorkier than last time."
"Please leave."
"Make me." As she said it, she leaned towards Freddie, raised her hand and dug a fingernail into his forehead. It wasn't exactly painful, but it was annoying, provoking and a needless display of dominance. Above all, it was the metaphorical straw that broke Freddie's back. Something inside him just snapped. Moments later, Sam was lying on the ground in front of him.
He didn't even realise what he had done until he became aware of the pain in his knuckles.
Sam looked up at Freddie, her eyes opened wide in shock. ‘He hit me.’ The taste of blood filled her mouth. ‘He actually hit me.’ While she was getting up, Freddie's eyes also widened. He began stumbling out an apology she didn't listen to. ‘No guy has ever hit me before.’ She managed to get back on her feet, and looked Freddie in the eye. He looked both concerned and scared, and with good reason. He probably thought she'd hit him back. ‘Freddie Benson just hit me.’
She stepped closer. Freddie seemingly wanted to step back, but controlled the urge. His stream of words slowed, before stopping altogether. She hadn't been listening anyway. She continued stepping closer, until her chest was touching his. The invasion of his personal space made him nervous, but he didn't step back. For a moment, the room was completely silent. Then Sam spoke.
"You punched me."
He started talking again, but she interrupted him. When he realised what she was doing, it was already too late to stop her. She crashed her lips into his, gripped him by the shoulders and roughly pushed him onto the ground. When she finally broke the lip-to-lip contact, his protests went to deaf ears.
A familiar heat was forming between her legs. She barely even noticed. Freddie was still protesting, but she didn't listen. He tried to stop her, but she was stronger. One hand pinned his chest to the ground, the other was unbuttoning his pants. With some struggle, she managed to pull them to his knees, along with his boxers. With that hindrance removed, she firmly wrapped her hand around his member.
Freddie had never been so scared in his entire life. He didn't know what had gotten into Sam, nor did he care. All he knew was that he wanted her to stop. She didn't even seem to hear his pleas, nor did she seem aware of his struggle. The way she pinned down his upper body was paradoxically very similar to the way she caressed his lower regions. All that time, she looked him straight in the eyes with that distant glare, that frightening disconnected look. Freddie wanted to run, but Sam had him pinned.
To his own horror, he felt himself growing beneath her touch. Every part of his mind screamed that this was not what he wanted, but his body disagreed, and Sam clearly wasn't paying attention to his mind. Involuntarily, his eyes were drawn towards her hand as she moved it from his now-erect penis to her own crotch.
Now that Freddie was prepared, nothing was stopping her anymore – nothing except for one more barrier. Her hand went under her skirt, found the soaked cotton and ripped it away. It was a fortunate coincidence that she was wearing a skirt that day. Originally intended for Carly to take off, but this would do just as fine for Sam. Pants would only make things difficult.
She gripped Freddie's member again and held it up, guiding it into herself as she mounted him. There was some resistance, but she pushed down and forced herself past it. There was a distant sensation of pain. She ignored it, for as far as you can ignore something you're not consciously experiencing. On that same level of subconscious perception were Freddie's attempts to stop her, the movements of her own hips and the sounds of a Seattle district. None of it got through to her.
When Sam rubbed herself on him, Freddie tried once more to stop her. A final, desperate attempt that was easily thwarted by Sam's overwhelming strength. He'd given up on pleading, given up on trying to pull her off. All he could try was to squirm out from underneath her. Even that was impossible. He never would've imagined losing his virginity to Sam, but here they were.
She was going to take it – forcefully.
When she slid over him, he stopped moving entirely. He surrendered. What else was there for him to do? What else but stare at her face and wait for it to be over? Even when she started riding him, her expression didn't change. In the back of Freddie's mind, the thought occurred that she wasn't doing this for pleasure. There was no lust; there was only dominance. It wasn't a comforting thought.
The remote pain began fading, to be replaced with an equally remote pleasure. With her free hand, Sam touched her most sensitive spot. The pleasure increased, but it was still as distant as before. Sam was practically absent, her body controlling itself. And on its own, her body worked itself towards the pleasuring waves of a climax.
The shock of pain had brought her into this state. The shock of pleasure brought her back. Sam rode out her orgasm, forgetting the situation for just that one wonderful moment. Shortly after it faded, the full implications of what she had just done crashed into her.
Something changed on the face towering above him. Throughout the experience, she had been glaring into his eyes. Even when her body went through an orgasm, that emotionless look remained. Halfway through, however, Sam's eyes started squinting, her mouth opened and she started panting loudly. When the orgasm subsided, she appeared relaxed, a feeling of satisfaction clearly visible in her eyes. This lasted for no more than a second, before being replaced by pure shock.
"Oh… Freddie. I don't know what… I'm so sorry." She sounded genuine in her apology, but this offered very little comfort. This wasn't like the times she'd hurt him. There wasn't even pain involved. Nevertheless, it was by far her most grievous invasion of his physical integrity; one he wasn't sure he could forgive her for. Wounds healed. This was no wound, and whether it would heal remained to be seen.
At least it was over now.
* * *
"...Hey."
"...Hey."
"Um... about yesterday?"
"I don't want to talk about it. I really don't."
"I'm the victim here, Sam."
"...Alright. Talk."
"I know it wasn't really you. I know you... didn't want to. That something in you just took over."
"Yeah, but that doesn't change what I did."
"I know. I just want you to know that, well, what's done is done. And I'm willing to pretend it never happened."
"But it did."
"Please? I just want to forget it."
"So what do we do? Just... pretend?"
"Just pretend."
"Oh. What do you want?" Yes, Freddie was being rude. Considering the person in front of him, however, it was entirely justified. Sam walked right past him, not even saying anything until she got to his fridge. Clearing his throat didn't stop her from searching through it.
"What's up, don't you have any meat?" she asked, looking at him as if that was his fault. Freddie had eaten the last bacon that day at breakfast, so technically it was his fault, but for her to come into his house wanting to eat it was a much more heinous offence. Of course, pointing that out to Sam would be a wasted effort.
"My mom's out shopping for groceries right now." Realising his mistake, he quickly added: "She won't be back for an hour, so don't bother waiting for it. She wouldn't let you have it anyway." Much to his surprise, Sam merely shrugged, sat down on the couch and started looking for the remote.
"Not here for your meat. Well, not primarily. Nobody home at Carly's, so I'm just waiting for her." She had found the remote and was now trying to get into a comfortable position. "Heh, look at those elephants..."
"Do you have to wait for her here?" Freddie asked, standing in front of the TV.
"I can't wait in the hallway, can I?" Sam tilted her head to see past Freddie, not really paying attention to the conversation.
"Yes, you can."
"Yeah, but I don't wanna. Be a dear and get Mama a pillow, would you?"
"No."
"Ugh… Fine, I'll get one myself."
With visible annoyance, she lifted herself up from his couch and walked towards his room. Freddie didn't even bother protesting anymore. When she entered, her reaction was exactly the same as every other time she was around. Which, sadly, meant almost every week.
"Wow, it looks even dorkier than last time."
"Please leave."
"Make me." As she said it, she leaned towards Freddie, raised her hand and dug a fingernail into his forehead. It wasn't exactly painful, but it was annoying, provoking and a needless display of dominance. Above all, it was the metaphorical straw that broke Freddie's back. Something inside him just snapped. Moments later, Sam was lying on the ground in front of him.
He didn't even realise what he had done until he became aware of the pain in his knuckles.
Sam looked up at Freddie, her eyes opened wide in shock. ‘He hit me.’ The taste of blood filled her mouth. ‘He actually hit me.’ While she was getting up, Freddie's eyes also widened. He began stumbling out an apology she didn't listen to. ‘No guy has ever hit me before.’ She managed to get back on her feet, and looked Freddie in the eye. He looked both concerned and scared, and with good reason. He probably thought she'd hit him back. ‘Freddie Benson just hit me.’
She stepped closer. Freddie seemingly wanted to step back, but controlled the urge. His stream of words slowed, before stopping altogether. She hadn't been listening anyway. She continued stepping closer, until her chest was touching his. The invasion of his personal space made him nervous, but he didn't step back. For a moment, the room was completely silent. Then Sam spoke.
"You punched me."
He started talking again, but she interrupted him. When he realised what she was doing, it was already too late to stop her. She crashed her lips into his, gripped him by the shoulders and roughly pushed him onto the ground. When she finally broke the lip-to-lip contact, his protests went to deaf ears.
A familiar heat was forming between her legs. She barely even noticed. Freddie was still protesting, but she didn't listen. He tried to stop her, but she was stronger. One hand pinned his chest to the ground, the other was unbuttoning his pants. With some struggle, she managed to pull them to his knees, along with his boxers. With that hindrance removed, she firmly wrapped her hand around his member.
Freddie had never been so scared in his entire life. He didn't know what had gotten into Sam, nor did he care. All he knew was that he wanted her to stop. She didn't even seem to hear his pleas, nor did she seem aware of his struggle. The way she pinned down his upper body was paradoxically very similar to the way she caressed his lower regions. All that time, she looked him straight in the eyes with that distant glare, that frightening disconnected look. Freddie wanted to run, but Sam had him pinned.
To his own horror, he felt himself growing beneath her touch. Every part of his mind screamed that this was not what he wanted, but his body disagreed, and Sam clearly wasn't paying attention to his mind. Involuntarily, his eyes were drawn towards her hand as she moved it from his now-erect penis to her own crotch.
Now that Freddie was prepared, nothing was stopping her anymore – nothing except for one more barrier. Her hand went under her skirt, found the soaked cotton and ripped it away. It was a fortunate coincidence that she was wearing a skirt that day. Originally intended for Carly to take off, but this would do just as fine for Sam. Pants would only make things difficult.
She gripped Freddie's member again and held it up, guiding it into herself as she mounted him. There was some resistance, but she pushed down and forced herself past it. There was a distant sensation of pain. She ignored it, for as far as you can ignore something you're not consciously experiencing. On that same level of subconscious perception were Freddie's attempts to stop her, the movements of her own hips and the sounds of a Seattle district. None of it got through to her.
When Sam rubbed herself on him, Freddie tried once more to stop her. A final, desperate attempt that was easily thwarted by Sam's overwhelming strength. He'd given up on pleading, given up on trying to pull her off. All he could try was to squirm out from underneath her. Even that was impossible. He never would've imagined losing his virginity to Sam, but here they were.
She was going to take it – forcefully.
When she slid over him, he stopped moving entirely. He surrendered. What else was there for him to do? What else but stare at her face and wait for it to be over? Even when she started riding him, her expression didn't change. In the back of Freddie's mind, the thought occurred that she wasn't doing this for pleasure. There was no lust; there was only dominance. It wasn't a comforting thought.
The remote pain began fading, to be replaced with an equally remote pleasure. With her free hand, Sam touched her most sensitive spot. The pleasure increased, but it was still as distant as before. Sam was practically absent, her body controlling itself. And on its own, her body worked itself towards the pleasuring waves of a climax.
The shock of pain had brought her into this state. The shock of pleasure brought her back. Sam rode out her orgasm, forgetting the situation for just that one wonderful moment. Shortly after it faded, the full implications of what she had just done crashed into her.
Something changed on the face towering above him. Throughout the experience, she had been glaring into his eyes. Even when her body went through an orgasm, that emotionless look remained. Halfway through, however, Sam's eyes started squinting, her mouth opened and she started panting loudly. When the orgasm subsided, she appeared relaxed, a feeling of satisfaction clearly visible in her eyes. This lasted for no more than a second, before being replaced by pure shock.
"Oh… Freddie. I don't know what… I'm so sorry." She sounded genuine in her apology, but this offered very little comfort. This wasn't like the times she'd hurt him. There wasn't even pain involved. Nevertheless, it was by far her most grievous invasion of his physical integrity; one he wasn't sure he could forgive her for. Wounds healed. This was no wound, and whether it would heal remained to be seen.
At least it was over now.
* * *
"...Hey."
"...Hey."
"Um... about yesterday?"
"I don't want to talk about it. I really don't."
"I'm the victim here, Sam."
"...Alright. Talk."
"I know it wasn't really you. I know you... didn't want to. That something in you just took over."
"Yeah, but that doesn't change what I did."
"I know. I just want you to know that, well, what's done is done. And I'm willing to pretend it never happened."
"But it did."
"Please? I just want to forget it."
"So what do we do? Just... pretend?"
"Just pretend."
Cathalina
- 16.11.2021
- 8
- 0
