Some people seem surprised when my stories involve rape. If you're one of these people I don't know what to tell you other than I think you clicked the wrong genre, Loving Wives is up a few. If it helps, these two characters have a consensual non-consent relationship.
"I said no."
Kate was exasperated. "Julian, come on!"
He didn't answer, eyes on his laptop screen, jaw clenched.
"Katie." He didn't even look at her. "Go into the bedroom so I can get some work done."
"I hate this. Fuck you." She snatched her laptop up from the couch and stomped down the hallway. He heard the bedroom door slam.
Julian fought the desire to go in there after her and returned his attention to the project he had to complete for work.
They'd been sleeping together for about a year now and had been together -- officially together -- for not quite as long. But after much discussion and deliberation, Kate had agreed to move in with him. He was her older brother's best friend, ever since they were kids -- she'd been in love with him for nearly half her life. It was a little rough getting there but now they were good -- together, happy, solid.
Kate had just earned her master's in Comparative Lit and had not yet decided if she wanted to go on to get her PhD. Meanwhile, she was teaching at the university three days a week and, while she loved it, the pay was poor. She was frustrated.
"Okay, two nights a week at the restaurant downstairs." She was standing in the hallway now, disheveled looking with nighty pulled over her jeans. She had one sock on and the other in her hand. "Just two. That's it."
Julian was quiet for a moment. Then, "no."
"It's. Not. Fair!" Kate exclaimed, throwing her sock on the floor. "What the fuck, Julian?"
"I need to get some work done."
"No! This is fucking ridiculous, you're not even fucking letting me--"
"You need to watch your temper."
"You watch your temper!" Katie snapped. "I don't need to fucking watch my temper, you do!"
"What the fuck do you think I'm doing right now." He looked up at her, finally pulling his gaze from the glowing screen. "Hm?"
She knew that look. Shut the fuck up and get out of my face. But she was incensed.
"Please," she whined. "I'll come right up when my shift is over, please."
"This is no longer up for discussion," he said slowly. He was trying very hard to keep his cool. "Go back to the bedroom because you're wearing on me."
"Two nights a week, Julian, oh my god. Two nights a week. In the restaurant downstairs."
"I said no!" He shouted, red in the face. He pounced to his feet and grabbed her by the arm before she could slip away. "No. It's fucking final." He squeezed until she whimpered. "Learn to listen to me when I say something is final." He started down the hallway to the bedroom, dragging her along with him. He threw her onto the bed. "I don't want to see your fucking face out there again." He pointed out toward the living room. "Just fucking stay in here for the rest of the night. Jesus." He slammed the door and went back to his work.
But an hour later she was standing before him.
"One night," she said, chest puffed out.
Julian sighed, saved his work, and closed his laptop.
"The answer is no," he said softly. He understood her irritation. She was used to getting exactly what she wanted whenever she wanted. Even as a kid she got exactly what she wanted, all the time. It was unbelievable. But still, her frustration was real and he respected that -- within reason.
"Please! Oh my god, please!"
"No," he said again. He remained seated on the couch.
This fight had been ongoing for several days. Julian, traditional as he was, refused to allow Kate to pay any bills or utilities. It wasn't a big deal to him like it was to her -- he earned plenty at his job and had an impressive savings. She, he was furious to find out, had no savings -- none -- and was living paycheck to paycheck, spending nearly everything on clothes, going out to eat, and alcohol.
A fight ensued. It got ugly, but Julian (the stronger one, by far) won (as always). If she was going to live with him she was going to learn how to manage her money. He took her credit card and gave her a modest allowance -- of her own money (he had offered to supplement it with some of her own, but she refused) -- to spend on what she wanted. Everything else went into her savings account.
In true Katie fashion she exploded. But not at first. A few days after her credit card was confiscated she found a dress at a nearby shop that she wanted more than anything (she wanted everything more than anything). She was short by $11. Julian refused to fork over the money until the start of the following week.
"It could be sold out by then!"
"I don't care."
"Do you need it?" He shouted, his face inches from hers. "Will it keep you alive? Can you eat it? Can you drink it? Can you sleep under it?"
She struggled to find a retort but couldn't.
"You have so many fucking clothes," he spat, livid, "that they have taken over not only an entire closet but part of my office. You. Do. Not. Need. Another. Dress."
"Fuck you!" Katie screamed. "Then you don't get to see me in that fucking dress!"
No shit, Julian thought as she stormed into the bedroom and locked the door. He spent that night on the couch.
That was a few days ago. Now, as she begged to be allowed to take another job, he was really running out of patience.
"I just want some spending money," she pleaded, tearfully. "If you gave me more each week--"
"I give you plenty."
"It's my money!"
"I give you fucking plenty!" He shouted. He did, and even coming to the decision to give her an allowance wore on him. She was, after all, 26 years old and employed. But she completely lacked any ability to manage her finances and that frightened him -- rather, reminded him of his ex-wife -- and, ultimately, he decided that he needed to be responsible if she wasn't going to be. Thinking of all the things that could go wrong -- injuries, unemployment, a stolen bike -- he decided that he was going to force her to save money if she wouldn't do it willingly. And she tried. But in the end he had to take her credit card because she had no self-control. This was not a surprise.
"Please." She lowered her voice, trying to sound reasonable. "Please, Julian. Please let me take the job at the restaurant. Please."
"No, no fucking way! Do you even remember your original plan? Work three days a week and spend the rest of the time writing freelance and looking for a full-time teaching job. What happened to that?"
"I can do that and waitress at the same time!"
"You can but you won't. I know you. You'll end up waitressing for the rest of your fucking life and while that's fine for some people, you have a fucking Master's in Comparative Lit. Focus your energy -- all this fucking energy you're wasting right now -- on finding a full-time teaching job. Jesus christ, Katie."
"Oh my god!" She stomped her foot. "This is fucking ridiculous!" She was yelling again. "You are treating me like a fucking child. You're treating me like a fucking kid!"
"Go to bed, Katie." It was a warning.
"No!" She folded her arms across her chest.
"Go to fucking bed." He was breathing heavily, on the verge of an explosion.
"Stop treating me like this, stop treating me like I can't take care of myself! I'm not a fucking child so don't treat me like one!"
He grabbed her by the wrist and shoved her up against the bookcase. "Then stop acting like Tommy's spoiled little sister."
"Fuck you," she hissed, then she reached up and hit him in the face with her free hand.
He threw her to the floor and then pulled her up again. "Are you ready for bed, kiddo?"
He slapped her. Once, twice.
"Please!" She buried her face in his shoulder, trying to protect it. "Please."
"Go to bed."
"I just want--" she hiccupped "--a little extra spending money. Please."
"I offered to give you some."
"No!" She was angry again, insulted. She pushed him with all her strength and he stumbled briefly. "My own fucking money! I want to earn it myself!"
"That's it?" He snapped, teeth bared. She had finally gone too far. "Your own fucking money, huh?" He pulled the top of her nighty down so her breasts were exposed. "Well let's see." He grabbed a nipple and twisted. It hurt and she shrieked.
"Shut the fuck up," he warned.
He tugged more at her nighty, yanking it down to her waist as she struggled to get away.
"Don't touch me."
He was holding her close, grasping her hands together tightly as he undressed her without a word. He got the nighty down past her hips and pushed her panties down as well.
"You want to earn it?" He grunted, dragging her to the floor to ceiling windows and pulling open the curtains. "You want to earn your own fucking money?" He pushed her to the floor with ease and climbed on top of her.
"I swear to God, Julian, I will start screaming," she warned.
He laughed. "No you won't."
She frowned. He was right. Still, she was angry -- furious! -- fuck him for taking her credit card, fuck him for forbidding her to get another job -- was it 1950?? -- and fuck this, right now. She wriggled, starting to panic.
"Don't," she said tearfully, turning her head to the side and looking out at the city. It was dark out and all the lights were on in the condo. Anyone that looked could see this."Don't, Julian. Please."
He was quiet, undoing his belt and then his pants and pushing them down. He was bigger than her -- more than twice her weight -- and she noticed, with his face so close to hers and near the brightness of the kitchen lights, that he was starting to look older. It was a good look on him, she thought, in spite of herself. His hair, boyish in style, dirty blond, fell over his forehead. Perpetually tan, his light eyes stood out as always, and in the corners Katie saw the first signs of wrinkles. There were wrinkles around his mouth, too, and as he grinned down at her she scowled.
He was hard already, she felt it against her belly. With renewed intensity she tried again to escape, but she was tiny and stood absolutely no chance.
"I don't want this," she said through gritted teeth.
Still he said nothing, just put his mouth over his left nipple, which was already standing at attention, and bit it gently. Possessing a serious sadistic streak, he had to keep himself in check. He moved to her right nipple and ran his tongue over it quickly before biting down harder than before.
"Please!" She squealed, arching her back in pain.
His right hand found his way to her neck and squeezed. "If you don't keep your fucking mouth shut," he warned, "I'm going to turn you over and--"
"Please, I'm sorry. But please don't, please don't..."
His hand left her neck and traveled down her body to her pussy. She groaned inwardly, embarrassed, knowing she was wet. He inserted one finger, then two, and pumped and roughly for a moment before adding a third.
Trying to press her knees together Katie thought of other things. The papers she had to grade. What she wanted to eat for breakfast. If her doctor had filled her Ambien prescription.
"No--!" She cried as Julian shoved a fourth finger in.
"Pay attention," he snapped. "Focus."
He brought his fingers up and shoved them into her mouth. "Suck it," he said sternly.
Julian positioned himself over her and gently brushed his wet fingers against her nipples. "You're going to be a good girl," he said, "and stay quiet. Otherwise I'll have to cover your mouth and I know you don't like that."
She nodded, dreading what was to come.
He brought his hand back down to her wet cunt, dripping now, and pressed his thumb to her clit, hard. She whimpered softly.
"I think you're enjoying this."
She was quiet, refusing to look at him.
"Did you hear me?"
"Yes, I fucking heard you."
He brought both hands crashing down to her breasts and she cried out at the blows. "Watch the fucking way you speak to me."
Before she could recover he was inside her, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming. He fucked her hard, drilling her into the floor as she lay, legs spread, trying to focus on something else while appearing present to him. She turned her head to the side and looked out the window. They had an audience now: two guys around her age, maybe a bit younger, that lived in the building across the street. She'd seen them at the supermarket. They always smiled at her as she hurried through the aisles, basked on her arm, forever in a rush, and she always smiled back, albeit meekly. And now they could see her, all of her, as Julian fucked her.
"You paying attention?" Julian grunted, pulling out.
"Yes," she said softly.
He grabbed her by the arm and flipped her, and she tensed up as her breasts and stomach and legs were pressed roughly against the rug by patio door. Before she could get situated he was inside her again, his hands cruelly grasping her hips as he impaled her. He was fucking her with such force that her clit hit against the rug each time he entered her, and she felt an orgasm starting to build in the pit of her stomach.
"No," she whimpered, trying to push it back. "No."
He brought his hand up to her mouth and covered it without a word. Harder now he crashed into her and the orgasm continued to build. She was pushing back into him now, and her hand found its way to her clit and she rubbed it gently. Her breath quickened and her cunt clenched his cock as he railed her and she tried to ride it out but his pace changed as he took a moment to laugh at her, that she got off on this, like always.
"You like that?" He asked. "You want to come again?"
She shook her head, his hand still covering her mouth.
He laughed again, then brought his hand down to her clit and pinned it between two fingers.
"No, Julian!" She said shrilly. "No -- it hurts, that hurts, no--"
"Shut up," he said, and bit into her shoulder as he started fucking her with renewed intensity, his fingers still assaulting her.
She bucked her hips, trying to throw him off, but he was too strong. His thrusts were savage now, and she knew he was close to coming. Tears pricking the corner of her eyes, she was close to coming again as well. She turned her head again, face resting on the floor, and looked back outside. The two guys were still there, and someone else was watcing now from yet another window, although this guy at least had the decency to be subtle about it, ducking halfway behind his blinds.
"Jules, no, I don't want to come again--" but it was too late, and he pushed her over the edge he came too, ramming into her brutally as he filled her with his come. He collapsed on top of her momentarily to catch his breath, and then got to his feet. He reached down and pulled the wallet from his pants.
"Here," he said, tossing a pair of 50s onto her back. "You earned your fucking money."