Please Help Me... - Please, Help me - Part 1

I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. He lets me use the computer when he’s at work. There are rules. Rules I must follow. Telling a story doesn’t violate those rules, so here is my story. I must stress to you all that this is very real. The story I am about to tell you is what I am experiencing right now, and I’m telling this story because I have no hope left. Maybe someone else can hear my story and learn from it. Maybe it can protect someone, or perhaps someone is in a similar situation and can gain some solace knowing there are others out there experiencing similar things. So, here it is.

My story started in high school. I was a popular girl. I had a lot of friends. I had friends from every social group. I had friends in sports. I had friends in marketing. I even had some friends in our D&D club. The point is, I knew a lot of people. However, despite how many friends I had, my father had one steadfast rule. No dating. I wasn’t able to date at all in high school.

I didn’t want to follow this rule, but I loved my father, and I honestly was a little bit scared of dating a guy. I saw a lot of my friends date a girl, lose their virginity, and then regret it. I wanted my first time to be special. I admit it, I glorified the act a bit too much. I imagined the perfect boyfriend and the perfect experience. After what I’ve been through, looking back, I saw how foolish and naïve I truly had been.

As a popular girl who didn’t date, I had many admirers. I don’t know if it was because I was always single, but it seemed to cause more guys to chase me as a result. I got asked out about once a week.

Perhaps the reason came down to my looks. I’m a small girl. The kind that people look at and say, “aw, she’s adorable.” I’m short, only 5’1’’, with blue eyes, long, straight blonde hair that reaches past my hips, and a babyface that makes me look about two to three years younger than I should. Unfortunately, I had proportionally long legs and a large chest that brings a lot of notice.

My breasts are DD, and they don’t belong on a girl as small as me. It causes my back so much pain, and so I usually walk around with my hand on the back of my hip. Some of my girlfriends said that walking around like that made it look like I was pushing out my chest and trying to show it off. As if to add insult to injury, my short height meant every eye was looking down on me, and down my shirt.

I couldn’t wear anything with an open neck, or I’d be flashing my breasts to everyone. And they looked. I even caught male teachers glancing at them. So, my breasts have always been a problem. I hate them, and had my life not ended up where it is today, I would have eventually gotten the breast reduction surgery.

Anyway, most guys understood that I couldn’t date, but a few were more persistent. I had a few guy friends, usually in the less popular crowd, that would confess their love for me and try to get me in love pacts.

“When you get out of the house, let’s marry!” They would say.

They wanted to marry me so that I’d be their one and only. I admit, at the time, the comments were sort of nice, in a creepy kind of way. The more perverted ones just dropped the pretext of marriage and just said they wanted to have sex.

“When you turn 18 and go to college, let’s hook up.”  They would offer.

I would only smile and give a noncommittal answer. Now, I kind of wish I had the guts back then just to say, ‘No, you freak.’, but I was too nice to say something like that, even if I did think it deep down.

Usually, all of this attention was harmless. I was friends with a lot of popular guys, and they were usually nice enough that they kept everyone in check. If some guy wanted to be creepy around me, I had plenty of friends who would step up and protect me.

However, there was one guy in particular who was creepier than the rest. It was him. His name is… no… that violates the rules. I’ll call him Lucas. Lucas was a boy who went to my high school.

He was the loser type. I’m sorry, I don’t say that to be mean. He even called himself a loser. He was a skinny, pale guy who wore all black. He had slick black hair and eyes so dark it was difficult to see his pupils. He wasn’t a goth. Instead, he was more like one of those lazy guys who doesn’t care about anything. The first time I had to deal with him, we were in a project together. The groups were automatically assigned or I never would have ended up in his group. Long story short, I did all of the work while he glowered and the third member did drugs (He was some stoner guy).

That was our Freshmen year, and he didn’t leave a good impression on me. Apparently, the opposite wasn’t true. I had unfortunately left a major impression on him, and one that lasted for the next four years, although I wasn’t aware of it at the time. It wasn’t until Junior year when his behavior started turning creepy.

At that time, he had a pimple-filled greasy face. His hair was always dirty and I wasn’t sure he washed it. He smelled funky. It wasn’t like weed or cigarettes. It was a uniquely bad smell that he possessed. At the time, I didn’t know what it was, but in retrospect, I think I know now. It was the smell of dried cum.

He started looking in my direction more and more. I’d notice he was always staring. Around the same time, I started getting notes in my locker. The notes started out fairly innocent.

I have a crush on you.

-Your Admirer.

They boosted my confidence, but I ignored them for the most part. However, they steadily started to grow longer and more in-depth. Some of them became pretty dark, talking about insane topics like what our children should look like. When they started to talk in a sexual nature, that’s when I grew scared. He’d describe things he wanted to do to me. After reading one or two, I eventually stopped for my own sanity.

I ended up handing all of the evidence to my teachers. A young, pretty English teacher ended up recognizing the handwriting. It was Lucas. I wasn’t there for the event, but he was supposedly suspended. The notes stopped, and I didn’t see Lucas again. Of course, my friends all knew about it. I don’t know if part of the reason I never saw him again was that some of the popular boys took it upon themselves to straighten him, or what. I was young and stupid at the time, so I clung to my ignorance as it absolved me of any responsibility.

By the time I reached senior year, I had most of the credits I needed. My curriculum was filled with college classes, as I tried to earn as many credits as I could while the high school would pay for it. As a result, I wasn’t at the high school very often, and I ended up graduating without seeing Lucas again. Had I known at the time that despite me not seeing him, Lucas was always looking at me… well, nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.

I was eighteen now, and I had gotten into the college of my choice. I wanted to get a physical therapist license. Perhaps, it was because of my own long-term back pains that got me interested in helping people deal with their posture and chronic pain. Either way, I started going to school without problems.

A month into my school year, I had a boyfriend. I’ll call him Brad. Brad was a Triathlete. He did long-distance runs, biking, and swimming. He was a fit guy, with blonde, hair and blue eyes. I know, I know… I didn’t travel particularly far from the gene pool, but we both had a lot in common. We were both into fitness, we came from similar families, and we got along really well. Suffice it to say, my life was just perfect.

My boyfriend and I dated for around seven months, and our relationship was starting to get pretty serious. Of course, my father still had the opinion of ‘no boys’, but I was away at college and what he didn’t know didn’t hurt him. Brad didn’t like it, but when my parents drove up, he had to get lost and pretend we weren’t dating. He was okay with it the first time, but by the third time he had to do this act, he was starting to become upset. It wasn’t like I was ashamed of him. I just didn’t want to start any confrontations with my father. My parents were paying for college, and I didn’t want them to have a freak-out and make threats that we’d all regret.

It was nearing the end of the year, and we were starting to get into that final push for finals. It was at that point, my parents decided to come up for one more weekend.

“Seriously? The year is almost over! Will you just tell them about us?” He said angrily.

I didn’t know what to say. I could only watch as Brad stormed out of my dorm room angrily. I wish, with every ounce of my being, that I had followed after him. Perhaps, if I had, then everything that followed wouldn’t have happened.

A few hours later, I got a sudden email from my mother. It was strange because my mother never emails me to discuss information. However, I didn’t suspect anything. It was a cancellation of my parent’s plan to come up this weekend. In short, my weekend I had freed up at the cost of angering my boyfriend was done for no reason. It was Friday night at this point, and even after trying to call him, Brad wouldn’t answer my calls.

So, I stayed in my room and allowed myself to grow angry at him. It was easier being angry at him, than mad at myself. I thought about how childish he was for not speaking to me. At that point, a few of my college friends came by and saw me fuming. They offered to take me out to a party with them. I may be nice, but that doesn’t mean I’m a complete prude. I’ve been to college parties. I’ve drunk even though I’m below the legal limit for where I live.

That night, I and the girls drank. I’m not an idiot. I don’t get blackout drunk. I don’t forget my own name or anything. I know when to stop. It was the amount where I was happy and dizzy, but could still form a coherent thought… eventually.

Because I was playing it safe, I grabbed the girls, who were both drunker than me, and dragged them back to the dorm with me. I know that three drunk girls aren’t much safer than one drunk girl, but to me, it felt safer.

“I think that guy is watching us?” My friend cried out at full volume, pointing into the darkness.

I followed her finger and squinted into the dark. I thought I saw a figure standing there. It was a bit scary, so I grabbed the two girls and we moved faster. I kept the lite streets and made it back to our dorm. After leaving the two girls with their roommates, I stumbled into my own room and collapsed drunkenly on the bed.

It was at this point that I pulled out my cellphone and checked my messages. My boyfriend had tried to text me while I was out.

Brad: I’m so sorry. I was acting unreasonably.

Brad: You there?

Brad: Can I come over?

Brad: …

The last text had been sent about an hour ago, so I quickly responded.

Me: I’m home. You can come. I’m sorry too, babe.

There was about a ten-minute gap before he finally responded again.

Brad: I’m at the door, can I come in?

Me: it’s unlocked.

The door opened, and I was reminded that I was still drunk when a flash of light blinded me. I had been lying in the dark for ten minutes. Before I could see anything more than his vague outline, the door shut closed. I looked at him in the darkness, but I couldn’t make him out at all. He seemed to be wearing a hoodie and shorts. It was the kind of thing he’d wear, although not usually black in color.

He seemed to stand there, staring at me without talking. I was thinking that he was probably still a little angry at me, even if he apologized. I was just about to say something when the screen of his phone turned on and he typed something. The buzz of my own phone caused me to pick it.

Brad: You’re drunk.

“A little…” I responded.

He raised a finger to his lips and then typed again.

Brad: Don’t wake your roommate.

I suddenly felt stupid. She was probably fast asleep, and I was talking with a normal voice. Brad was much more considerate. He started texting again, and this time I was ready to text him back, even though my dexterity was a bit off and so it took me longer.

Brad: You’re beautiful.

Me: Really?

Brad: I want you now.

Me: Then, come here.

Once sending that text, I put down my phone and then threw out my arms. He took a step forward, turning the flashlight on his phone suddenly and blinding me. A moment later, I felt soft cloth wrap around my face as he kneeled over me. I raised my hands immediately to feel a blindfold over my eyes.

Yes, I know, at this point, you’re screaming at the screen that this isn’t Brad. You’d be right. However, I was drunk and trusting, and stupid. The idea that someone had stolen Brad’s phone, snuck into my room and then tried to take advantage of me, I never would have thought of that. So, I embraced this man who I thought was my boyfriend.

His kiss felt different, but I equated it to my drunkenness. I told myself I was kissing him sloppier, rather than that he was kissing me differently. It was actually laughable the number of concessions I had to make. His touch was different. His smell was different, yet oddly familiar.

I made out, my hands on my boyfriend’s back, for about five minutes. At this point, I was starting to grow a little excited, and a certain pressure I felt against my leg below suggested to me the was growing excited too.

His hand went up my shirt. I was surprised when it slipped under my bra too. Brad would usually fondle my breasts over the bra. This was the first time he went under the underwear, so I couldn’t help but gasp. His fingers were coarse, rougher than I remembered. I told myself this was because my breasts were sensitive, and I had never had skin on skin contact before. He suddenly pinched my nipples hard.

“Ow!” I made a noise and then bit my lip.

My roommate was in the room. I couldn’t risk waking her, especially now that we were in this compromising position. Before I knew it, Brad had put me in a hard place. He was being very aggressive, yet I couldn’t make a sound of protest.

In a swift motion, he pulled my shirt and bra up, exposing my chest to the air. I wanted to grab my shirt and pull it back down. He could see my chest now. It was really embarrassing. If my roommate did wake up, I didn’t want her to see me naked. That’d be the worst. Suddenly, he leaned down and bit one of the nipples.

“Ggg!: I made a noise despite my attempt to hold back.

It was probably only five minutes, but it felt like hours as he played with my breasts. They had never been touched before, and now he was abusing them without regard. He’d pull on my nipples until they burned. He’d bite my breast causing pangs of pain. He’d squeeze them tightly until they felt sore. Meanwhile, my eyebrows furrowed, and I could only make pained expressions.

Why didn’t I stop him then? Because, deep down, I thought that this was just payback for me not being able to tell my parents about him. I thought he was just getting back at me, and I deserved it. That, and I didn’t want to risk losing Brad by suddenly acting unaffectionate, especially right after our fight. So, I gave him my chest to play with.

Unfortunately, they only entertained him for so long. When he started tugging on my jeans, that’s when my expression truly turned white. Even with my breast’s rough treatment, I was still very horny, so sex was clearly on my mind. However, I wasn’t sure I was ready for such a thing.

“B-brad… n-not…” he put a finger over my mouth, stopping me from talking.

At this point, it annoyed me slightly, yet before I could really think about it, he had already pulled my pants down to my knees. He stopped just as I was going to start resisting. I don’t know if this was calculated or not, because now that he stopped, it felt silly to fight. Thus, not only were my tits exposed to the cold hair, sore and wet with his saliva, but my panties were on display too.

I hadn’t prepared at all. I had not planned to have sex today. My legs weren’t shaved, let alone down there. I hadn’t washed up. I had walked home, so it was sweaty. The underwear was also a comfortable cotton pair, and not something sexy at all. Thus, this step was not the step I wanted to take.

His finger darted down there and he touched me through my underwear fabric. The farthest Brad and I had gone at that point was dry humping through our pants, so to have him directly rubbing the underwear over my clit was more stimulation than I had ever received from a boy before. I couldn’t help but gasp. He started moving his fingers quickly, and he pressed down hard. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was still my first and naturally, my teenage body responded.

“Hah… Hah… Brad… stop…” I whimpered.

He ignored me. Instead, it felt like he was rubbing it even harder. It was to the point where the area was starting to become a bit disturbed, and rather than pleasure, it felt a tinge painful.

“Brad… no… not now.” I gasped, trying to grab his hand.

He suddenly slapped my arm away, and I felt genuinely shocked. My mouth fell open, and for the first time that night, I was feeling unease. I realized I needed to get out of this situation. Naturally, the one lie that works for every woman popped into my mind.

“I just started my period.”

His hand stopped, and I let out a breath of relief. He then got off of me, and so I pulled my shirt back down and lifted up my pants, putting myself back together. I felt a little guilty about how things ended, but my sense of unease started to diminish. I reached up to pull off my blindfold, but then I felt a warm thing slap against my cheek. Instinctively, my hand went for it instead of my blindfold, and I grabbed onto a large, warm, hard, cylindrical object.

My mind froze for a moment until I realized what it was. This was my boyfriend’s penis! I had said I was on my period, so now he wanted a blowjob? I wasn’t ready for it at all. However, I was already afraid he was pissed, and I didn’t want to lose him. Our relationship was heading in this direction anyway, so was it really so bad?

I don’t know what compelled me to do it, especially given all of the previous red flags that I ignored spectacularly. It was just a mixture of drunkenness and horniness that had built up over time. I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue, licking his dick. I was really going to do this.

It wasn’t like I didn’t know the linguistics of it. I had watched a video, once. Just once when I was curious. I didn’t look at porn very much. Usually, it was something someone else sent me. Often, it took the form of a gif. However, I at least understood the mechanics, so I sat up and began to suck him off. His dick tasted salty, and it had a pungent taste and smell. I didn’t like it at all, but I really wanted Brad to be happy with me.

He had his hands on my head. It made pulling off the blindfold impossible, so I sucked him off blind. I heard him moaning, and he didn’t seem to care about my roommate at this point. His voice also sounded off, but it wasn’t enough either. At this point, my entire focus was on his warm dick sliding in and out of my mouth. That was it. I had no room in my drunken mind for anything else. So those red flags were also filed under ignore.

His hand grabbed my hair painfully, and suddenly he pushed my head down onto his cock. I let out a noise, but there was nothing I could do. He started forcing his dick down my throat. It hit the back of my throat and I felt like I needed to throw up. I remember using all of my power to keep from throwing up. I had it in my mind that if I threw up on his cock, he’d definitely leave me.

I managed to last, or perhaps it is better to say that he didn’t last. His cum exploded out. The first gob hit my throat in such a way that I was swallowing it before I could even resist. Since I started, I kept swallowing. It was only after I swallowed the third gob that the taste finally hit me. I did gag at that point, feeling completely disgusted. My face showed my disgust completely.

“A drink…” I begged in a hoarse voice.

Suddenly, he grabbed my hair painfully and pulled, dragging me off my seat and nearly causing me to fall. He was basically holding me up by my hair, causing me to elicit a full volume shout. I felt his lips against my ears.

“You’re mine now.” Those words were spoken in a harsh voice I didn’t recognize at the time.

He let go, and I collapsed to my knees. There was the sound of loud footsteps and then my door slammed shut. I was in complete shock, not even able to pull off my blindfold until a minute later. The whole experience felt like a dream. Yet, I was on my knees, in the middle of my room, with a foul taste on my lips.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” I said, looking up at the loft my roommate slept in.

It was only at that point I realized the bed was completely empty. She wasn’t at the dorm today. A nauseous feeling started to spread through me. It was only that moment that all the actions started to catch up, ending with the voice that clearly wasn’t Brad’s. I fled my dorm room, but he was long gone. I then threw up for half the night and then cried for the other half.

In the end, the only way I could get through it was to tell myself I was fine. At the very least, we didn’t have sex. He didn’t rape me.

How could I know that this was only the beginning of my hell?

I’m sorry, I hear his car outside. He’s come home. I need to close and hide all of this. Oh god, it’s all going to start anew. Please… I will update my story later when I can. If I can…