tagNonConsent/ReluctanceJust Another Normal Day

Just Another Normal Day

bya_dani365©

My alarm startled me awake, even though the only sound it made was the gentle vibration of my cell phone against my nightstand. It seemed every morning promptly at 9:15 I went through this ritual when it went off, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. I reached over for the little button on the side, stopping the noise and rolled back over, snuggling deeper into the warm blankets. I heard the covers rustle slightly, and then I felt a single finger tracing patterns on the bare skin of my back. "You know I hate it when you push the snooze...It just means I have to stay awake another five minutes too." I poked my head out and winked at my husband, Eric, then moved closer to find his lips with mine.

His face was rough and in desperate need of a shave, and his red hair was sticking up in all different directions. He was adorable. "When I wake up to a man like you, do you really blame me for wanting to stay in bed a little longer?" He laughed, and then got a mischievous twinkle in his woody green eyes that I knew all too well. I shrieked and desperately clung to the covers as he tried to pull them off me, exposing my naked flesh to the cool February air. We tussled, and even though I've got two older brothers, and am quite an experienced wrestler, I eventually lost the battle. He pulled my blankets over himself just as my alarm began to buzz again. I sighed in exasperation, blowing a stray strand of curly brunette hair out of my face, and turned the alarm to off. As much as I wanted to sleep in, I knew I couldn't. Today was Valentine's Day. For some couples, that means romantic dinners or kinky once a year sex. For me, that meant a very long double-shift at the local restaurant I served at. I hopped into the shower, trying to relax my muscles a bit in preparation for the beating they were about to take.

The hot water felt great on my chilled skin. The goose bumps that had risen during our wrestling match faded away as I enjoyed the soapy water. I ran a sudsy hand along my collarbone, and then dipped lower to the swell of my breasts. I had always enjoyed the feel of my own slick hands against my body, and today was no different. My nipples hardened slightly as they reacted to the friction. Suddenly, I spun back to a memory of the first Valentine's Day I had ever spent with a man, and my heart seemed to sink somewhere between my liver and small intestine. I remembered splashing about in hot soapy water with him too. He had rented a honeymoon suite in a rundown hotel near my hometown. It had a red heart-shaped bathtub, chipped mirrors everywhere, and a very creaky king size bed with a bedspread that seemed to have been made from my grandmothers curtains. I thought it was a sweet gesture then, but the night hadn't ended sweetly at all. I turned the tap to cold and gasped as the water focused my attention to the present. I hated thinking about that night or any of the other nights I spent with that man, and I had too much to do today to start down this path now.

As I rushed to get dressed, Eric reached for my wrist and pulled me towards him. "So, you promise you weren't testing me with this whole no Valentine's Day presents idea right? You're not going to go home expecting a forty pound teddy bear or sixteen chocolate roses, right?" I playfully kissed the hollow right below his ear, and replied "Definitely not a test. You know I hate Valentine's Day. It's always full of disappointment, and this year, I want to avoid that. You're perfect just the way you are, and you're my favorite person to hang out with. We don't have to do anything out of the ordinary because I am just fine with how ordinary we are." He playfully smacked my ass as I pulled away to continue with my morning routine.

That afternoon at the restaurant was absolutely crazy. There was a line outside the door, but business seemed to be crawling. Every couple wanted to stay and make flirty jokes while they held hands and sipped the cheapest white wine on our menu, which meant we couldn't get the waiting guests to new tables quickly. The kitchen was a wreck, and all of the employee's tempers seemed ready to ignite. I tightened the strings of my apron, grabbed a quick drink from the soda fountain, and reminded myself that it was only one day. Business would return to normal tomorrow, if I could just survive this one day. Alyssa, a waifish hostess with short brown hair and icy blue eyes, poked her head back in the kitchen. "Tahra, you've been sat at table forty-five." I smiled with relief. That meant the teenagers who had only tipped me a dollar and fifteen cents were finally gone. I plastered what I hoped was a convincing and not exhausted smile on my lips and went to greet the table.

"Hi there! My names Tahra and I'll be your server today! We have some great specials on..." the words died on my lips as I took a good look at the man sitting to my left. Recognition flitted across his slate grey eyes, and a red blush stole across my face as I looked at the monster from my past. He had a petite blonde girl with him who didn't look a day over sixteen. She nervously chewed on her glossy lower lip as she studied my look of shock. His hard jawline twitched, and his lips formed into a knowing sneer. I turned around quickly, and walked away as fast as I could, trying my hardest to fight back tears. I stopped my manager, Kayla, who was on her way to the back. "Kayla, I need another server to take table forty five for me. I'll explain in a minute." She took in the sight of my face burning red, the tears nearly bursting their dams, and my hand on my stomach, indicative of the possible reality that I was about to be sick at any minute. "Jason," she snapped in her gravelly voice, "take table forty five for Tahra. If you need me, we will be in the restroom." She led me to the employee restrooms in the back of the restaurant, shielding me from the rest of the employee's curious stares. As soon as I got the door open, I couldn't contain it any longer. I doubled over, emptying the contents of my stomach, and let the tears rip loose. Kayla rubbed my back, and with her there, I faced my nightmares.

He had started out the evening in that hotel no different than I had expected. Sure, the room was cheesy, but I had always been a sucker for silly romantic gestures. He had approached me with the idea of staying the night together a few days earlier, and I had tentatively agreed. He promised we would take things slow, and that sex would only be on the table if I wanted it to be. He was older, and much more experienced, and I had just turned eighteen. He had always taken that fact into consideration when we were together, and had treated me with respect. His slow pace had allowed me to be more sexually adventurous with him than I had ever thought I would be at this age, but I was still a virgin. We had explored each other's bodies with our hands, and he had explored mine with his lips. The memory of his hot breath on my inner thigh and his tongue flicking my clit had me excited and eager for what the night would bring.

He drew the bath for us, and we both shared our nakedness with each other. This was the first time we were both naked together, and the sexual tension was almost palpable. We slid into the hot water together, and his lips searched for mine. His kisses left me breathless, and his mouth muffled my moan as he started to slide his hands over my nipples. After I felt dizzy with need, and was close to mad with wanting, he dipped his hands below the water, and found my clit. He stroked it with two fingers slowly, sending delicious shivers down my spine. My breath quickened as he increased the pressure and speed of his ministrations, and my fingers dug into his shoulders as he continued to bring me nearer to climax. I groaned in frustration as he stopped, but I was used to his little games. He always loved to be in control, and he liked to make me wait for what I wanted most.

He got up and stepped out of the tub, roughly yanking me up with him. As he pulled on my wrist, my shoulder twisted, sending sharp pains through the joint. "Hey! Easy tiger! Remember I'm delicate!" I playfully admonished him, certain that the injury had been borne out of eagerness, not malice. He smirked, stretched himself down on the bed, and said tersely "It's your turn." I crawled up towards him wrapping my small pale hands around his stiff cock, prepared to use what I had learned to please him. He had different plans. He wrapped his fingers in my hair, pulling until I cried out in pain, and pushed my head lower. "I'm fucking sick of your hands. Time for you to learn something new," he spat. I'm sure I looked quite pathetic, staring at him with my eyes wide, like I was looking at a stranger, but he just continued to shove my head towards his waiting shaft. I resisted taking him into my mouth; I had never given a blow job before. When he felt the resistance, he tightened his grip on my hair, and I opened my lips to cry out in protest. He took that opportunity to bury his cock in my mouth, making me gag. He began to pump himself in and out of my mouth, and I just whimpered and let him bob my head up and down.

Tears ran down my face, mixing with the saliva glistening on his cock, and I felt completely miserable. He stopped, and released my head from his grasp. I immediately got off the bed, and began to gather my clothes up off the floor, stumbling over his huge ugly shoes. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" He asked in a voice so smooth and quiet, I felt I surely must have heard him wrong. "You said we were going to take things slow! This is not what I call slow!" I retorted. He got up off the bed, yanked my clothing out of my hands, and pushed me roughly to the floor. I screamed, and he slapped my face. He put a hand around my throat to keep me down as he forced himself inside of me. I resisted, straining to breathe as he ripped me apart inside, grinding my skin against the rough carpet. After this point, all I can remember is driving home. The rest is all blackness and pain, and the feeling that I'd never be whole again.

My head cleared, and I was able to stifle my sobs enough to clean myself up. Kayla was still there, looking concerned. It never occurred to me how many worry lines the middle aged woman really had until this moment. The creases were deep on her forehead, and along her mouth. "Do you want to talk about it?" she cautiously asked. I couldn't look at her as I said it, but I whispered tremulously, "He raped me...a few years ago." She didn't speak for a few minutes. We just sat on the bathroom floor together, taking time to process our feelings together. When she did speak, her voice was tense and hard. "Go home. We can do without you for a few more hours. I'll take care of things here." She helped me up, handed me my coat, and walked me out to the car. I learned later that after I had left, she had Alyssa slip a note to his beautiful young date. It simply said, "Your date is a rapist." Kayla told me she left before he returned from the bathroom.

That night, Eric didn't ask me what was wrong. I think he knows me well enough that he didn't have to ask. He knew it had something to do with that man. We cuddled on the couch watching reruns of our favorite television shows, and he ordered takeout from the Chinese restaurant down the street. When we lay down for the night, he made love to me. There was nothing different or planned about the sex. We did nothing "special" for Valentine's Day, but that in itself was the beauty of it. He kissed me all over my body, igniting fires everywhere his lips touched. He was soft and gentle as the wind, and hard and unyielding as granite, all at the same time. My first climax came with his tongue sliding over my clit, dragging out waves of pleasure for what seemed like ages. Then I took over, climbing on him and using my entire body to please him. I knew he loved having his hands on my hips, watching my breasts sway as my hips rocked back and forth. I came again just before he himself finished, as I felt him pulse inside of me. He fell asleep that night with his arms around me, just like he always did. This is why I loved the man. Our normal was my safe. He loved me, and I loved him, and I knew I would never be hurt on Valentine's Day again, as long as it was just another normal day.

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