He pulls out of my pussy and pats my ass affectionately, then he zips his cock away and walks out of my bedroom, leaving me lying on the bed slowly leaking his cum and wondering what the fuck just happened to me.
CHAPTER 3
Laura
I am in class trying to concentrate. It’s impossible. My body is still responding to everything that happened last night. I should be exhausted, but I don’t feel tired at all. I feel invigorated, maybe slightly afraid. What happened to me was wrong, but every time my mind drifts back to the memory of it all, I feel a tingle running through my clit.
My pussy throbs from time to time with an ache that’s going to stay for a while, I think. He wasn’t so rough with me that I am in actual pain, but I can certainly feel the effects of his dominant lovemaking.
Weird to call it that even in my mind. How could it have been love when he simply took me because he wanted me. I don’t know him. He doesn’t know me. I was a victim.
“Miss Brown,” Professor Rollins says, his voice cutting through my reverie. “What are three signs of a disordered personality?”
“Um…”
The entire class is looking at me. I try to get my head back in the game. Usually I love it when I get called on in class. I always get the answers right because I study super hard. I come into class early to review the material before it’s even taught most days. I didn’t get to do that today, but this is kind of a softball question.
“An unstable or absent sense of self?”
“That’s one, yes.”
“Fear of abandonment?”
“That can depend. Fear of abandonment is one of the most primal and elemental fears a human can experience. People with personality disorders can experience this more often and more intensely, so yes, it’s a diagnostic criteria.”
“Being unable to trust?”
“Yes, that can be another one,” he says. “There are many traits associated with various disorders. What I want you all to notice is how many of them overlap with baseline human experience. It’s a matter of degree, and it is why we believe these conditions can be treated…”
He keeps talking, and I let my mind wander again. I’m not really listening to the content of his words. I don’t know that I can manage to focus that well right now. I let his voice wash over me. He speaks with an East Coast accent. Sort of New York. He’s from Boston originally, but he’s travelled the world. Sometimes he sounds even a little Midwest. When he talks about Freud and Jung, he slips into a German kind of accent. It makes the class feel a lot more interactive, but right now nothing could engage me.
I have a few other classes. I’m not sure I take anything in for any of them. I end up at the library, studying for an English Lit test. It’s quiet, and I’ve picked a floor and a corner where nobody else is.
I notice my hand is down between my legs, sliding beneath my skirt. I didn’t think about doing it, it just happened. My finger is stroking over my underwear, rubbing the gusset of my panties against my tender pussy lips. He fucked me and he came in me, and I know his cum is still inside me. Possibly making me pregnant. I could take a Plan B, but if I’m already ovulating, which I think I am, it’s too fucking late.
My finger slides underneath my underwear. I’m wet. Thinking about how I was used last night is making me aroused. I slide my finger up and start playing with my clit, echoing the same motions the intruder made last night.
I am completely immersed in my own pleasure when someone steps up behind me. A hand reaches around my neck, fingers brushing against my throat lightly as a deep English accent purrs in my ear.
“Come to the bathroom.”
I turn around, but all I see is the back of a tall, broad-shouldered man’s head as he walks away. My heart is hammering from excitement and also shock. I didn’t know I wasn’t alone. Did he see what I was doing? Does he know I was touching myself thinking about him? The hair on the back of my neck rises as I realize he must have been following me for a while.
I should pack up my things and leave, but what would that do? He’d follow me again, and when he caught me again—andhe would—it would be worse. He didn’t threaten me with that consequence, but he didn’t have to.
I should run. I should go to the police. I should find an adult I trust.
I get up from the desk, and I go to the bathroom. It’s not very far from the table I chose, behind a stack of old books. I push the door open. There are two doors beyond that. One for men, one for women.
I go into the women’s bathroom.
And that’s the last choice I make for quite a while.
My stalker grabs me by the wrist, pulls me into a stall, pushes me face first up against the wall, shoves my underwear to the side, and thrusts his cock inside me. From the moment I walked into the bathroom to the moment I start getting fucked, it’s less than thirty seconds.
“Did you think you could hide here in the library and I wouldn’t find you? There’s nowhere you can go that I won’t find you and use this tight little pussy,” he purrs in my ear.
“I wasn’t hiding. I was trying to study.”
