I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing back a sob. I can’t give in. I can’t let him see how broken I am, how the fear has twisted into something that burns.
But he’s right. I didn’t block him. I didn’t call the police. I’m still here, waiting, like I want him to catch me.
The phone buzzes again.
Are you touching yourself, Little Spider? Thinking about what it would feel like if I was inside? I bet you are. I bet you’re soaking through your pretty little panties, and you hate yourself for it.
A shiver crawls up my spine, and I hate how my body responds, heat pooling low and tight despite the terror. I type back, desperation bleeding into every word.
Stop it. Please.
Stop lying to me. You want it. You want to be caught. You’re just too scared to admit it.
My chest aches, and I press a hand against my sternum, trying to keep myself from unravelling.
Another voice message. I hesitate, but I can’t help it—I hit play.
His voice, darker, rougher, like he’s holding back a growl:
“Open the door, Raven. I’ll put my hands on your hips, pin you against the wall, and make you beg for it. I’ll drag my teeth down your throat, leave marks so everyone knows you’re mine. You will try to fight, but I will just pin your wrists, listen to you gasp, and when you finally give up, I will fuck you so hard you forget why you were ever scared.”
A sound escapes me—half moan, half sob. My legs feel weak, and I slide down the wall, knees pulled to my chest, rocking back and forth.
You’re shaking, aren’t you? I can picture it. Your skin flushed, thighs clenched, trying to convince yourself you hate me. I know the truth. You hate how much you want it. You hate that you’re wet just thinking about me forcing you to take it.
My hand moves without permission, sliding between my thighs, and I clamp my legs shut, horrified at myself. I shouldn’t be reacting like this. I should be fighting, screaming, running.
My phone buzzes again, and I force myself to read it.
I want to hear it, Little Spider. Put your hand down your pants and tell me how wet you are. Be a good girl. I know you can.
Tears sting my eyes, but I can’t stop the way my body pulses with heat, the way my hand creeps lower despite every part of me screaming to stop.
Or would you rather I do it? Would you rather feel my hand slip under your waistband, fingers spreading you open, feeling how soaked you are? Would you try to push me away, or would you spread your legs wider for me, begging me to make you forget everything else?
I can’t breathe. My fingers slide under the waistband of my sweatpants, and I hate how wet I am, how the fear and desire have tangled together, suffocating me.
Another knock. This one softer, like a caress.
Let me in, Raven. I’ll make it better. I’ll make it hurt in just the right way. You don’t have to think—just let me take control. Let me make you mine.
My thumb circles my clit, slow and shaky, and I clamp a hand over my mouth to muffle the whimper that slips out. I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be reacting like this. But his words feel like they’re crawling inside me, twisting through my veins, making me ache.
My phone buzzes again. Another voice message. I press play, the sound almost crackling in the silence.
“That’s it. I can almost hear you. I know you’re touching yourself. You can’t help it, can you? You need me to make it real. Open the door, and I’ll show you what it’s like to be fucked by someone who’s obsessed with you. I’ll pin you down, make you scream, and when you’re too tired to fight, I’ll whisper in your ear how pretty you look when you’re ruined.”
My legs twitch, and I bite down harder on my lip, fingers moving faster, desperate and frantic. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. My body is a traitor, responding to his words even as my mind screams that this is wrong.
The phone buzzes again.
Say it. Say you want me. Say you’ll let me in. I’ll make you feel everything, Little Spider. You’ll want no one else again.
A moan slips out before I can stop it, and I bite down harder to stifle it, thighs squeezing around my hand. I can’t do this. I can’t let him win.
You’re going to cum thinking about me, aren’t you? Even though you’re scared, even though you hate yourself for it. You’re imagining me forcing your legs apart, holding you down, making you take it. You’re mine, Raven. You just haven’t accepted it yet.
I curl forwards, choking on a sob as my body pulses, my fingers move faster, shame coats my fingers, his voice slides down my spine, pushing me closer to the edge—the release crashing through me before I can stop it. I can’t stop shaking, shame flooding through me, and I drop the phone, burying my face in my hands.
