Bus Crash

Vlajko noted the girl's transition from withdrawn tenseness to unguarded appreciation. Encouraged, and not a little aroused, he let his hand run down her bare arm to settle on her waist. As his hand settled into that soft dip of her anatomy Aamu twitched involuntarily and uttered an aroused groan. She froze right after, realizing what she'd done, what she'd let show. No, she didn't want this, she didn't want him -- she just wanted to go home!

Not picking up on her sudden change of mood Vlajko ran his hands upwards. He cupped her tiny soft breasts with his large hands and pulled her closer to kiss her neck and shoulder. Aamu bolted off the bed, shouting nervously, "I'm sorry! I can't do this! I can't. I can't. I need to go."

Vlajko stood up also, and raised his hands, placating her, and gave her some room. She started looking for her clothes, determined to walk out, right now -- now that she still could. Vlajko backed slowly away from her to the door, and when she had the bundle of clothes in her hands and turned to go she saw him blocking her way.

"No," she mumbled and shook her head slowly in disbelief. When she said it again her voice was tiny, broken and pleading. Her third no wasn't even audible, just a forlorn, lost, little plea. She couldn't believe he would do this to her. Not him. Not Vlajko.

She took a step back. Tears filled her eyes and flowed down her frozen face, tears that she hated because they spoke of defeat, of giving up without a fight even, of already accepting as an unavoidable fact what was to come next; his grunts, the sweat landing on her face. She was in his power, and they both knew it.

"Please," she still tried even though she knew it was useless. She had never felt so weak, helpless and stupid as she did then. She had idled in his house for far too long, allowed him to lead her on for far too long.

Vlajko walked across the floor. Gently he took the bundle of clothes from her and let it fall on the floor. He closed her in his arms and pressed her against him, tears and all, shushing her protests and her fear, kissing her hair, whispering quietly, walking with her clutched in his arms, slowly, stiffly back towards the bed. He leaned forward, gently pushing her down onto the mattress. She was still weeping and he wiped her tears and smiled.

"Good girl," he murmured, and lay down on the bed beside her, his hand across her chest should she try to bolt up and run. He didn't want to scare her into fighting back because he didn't want to hurt her. But she seemed to know that, know that he would use force if she'd give him no other choice but that he'd prefer not to. He wanted this to be what they both wanted it to be, what he knew they both wanted it to be.

He let his hand wander and caress her face, hair, stomach and arms -- neutral places the touching of which wouldn't make her jump. She sobbed and choked in her tears, coughing, but he was in no hurry. He knew he'd get her to calm down eventually and continued soothing and caressing her, kissing her face and whispering into her ear.

Then he moved, leaned over her and started kissing her neck -- slow, wet, tender kisses. He was forcing intimacy on her, kissing her like a lover -- a lover she didn't want. Yet all the same she felt a stubborn, needy tingle in her crotch that made her squirm despite herself. All the fantasies that she'd tried to push away were still there in her head, preying on her, and his mouth and his tongue on her neck made them all rush back. She was terrified. Of him. Of herself. Of everything.

"No. Let me go. Please!" she mumbled, trying to turn from him. "Please. I don't want to!"

He had to understand. He had to let her go. After being so good to her, so caring and kind, he wouldn't turn around and hurt her, would he? "Please," she wept. "I want to go home." His face melted into a friendly smile, warm as only his smiles could be, and Aamu sighed with relief. But it was too soon.

"Do you think that I'm blind?" he whispered gently, petting her hair and smiling down at her with affection. "Do you think that I can't see the conflict in you every single day? Every day you want it and every day you tell yourself no. Now... I'm saying yes."

Suddenly, he pushed his fingers deep into her panties and rubbed them against her slit. As Aamu squealed and struggled, he whispered to her in surprise, sounding almost sorrowful, "Oh baby, you're not wet."

That scared her into action; she couldn't let this happen. Not without a fight. She screamed in anger and pushed at him, but he was ready. He leaned his weight on her, pushing her back, grabbing her hands and pinning her down just like in her drawing. Over and over she tried to break free and the heat in her crotch grew as she struggled against the strong hands restraining her and against a lifetime's worth of fantasies.

They wrestled for a long time, or, more accurately, she wrestled and he simply indulged her little tantrum for they both knew she never had a chance. He held her down, effortlessly, coaxing her to submit, and every once in a while she made a token effort to push him off her, but it was like trying to get out from under a house that had fallen on her. Panting, exhausted and out of breath, she finally gave up, mewing out her frustration, anger and disgust.

When she slumped down and stopped struggling, Vlajko was ready with his soothing murmurs and vile caresses.

"Shh. Relax. Don't cry. I'm here. You're safe. I'll take care of you." And he petted her hair like he'd done when she first woke up. And she wanted to believe, so badly, that he'd keep her safe and look after her, but he'd shown what kind of a man he truly was and no amount of deceitful coaxing could erase his actions. He didn't care about her or he would have let her go when she chose.

"Ssh," he whispered. "It doesn't have to be like this."

A hand snaked into her panties again and she started kicking and screaming, terrified of her own reaction. And indeed, she heard a guttural, aroused groan as Vlajko's fingers slipped freely into her slit. Then he was looming over her, grinning victoriously.

"My little mouse likes to struggle, does she?" he gloated, and lifted his fingers to her face for her to see. "See baby, you're all wet, all flowing and pulsing and eager. You should have told me it turns you on this much to be held down, to struggle and scream under me, trying to fight me, knowing that I'm going to fuck you no matter what."

Aamu drew a breath and opened her mouth to scream, to cry for help, anything, but he pressed his hand quickly over her mouth and she ended up screaming into his hand. The noise was weak and pathetic and it broke her heart to hear it. Her earth shattering shrieks muffled by his hand into tiny, broken squeals drove home exactly how small and helpless she truly was, how hugely she had deceived herself during her life each time she had thought that she could take care of herself. He had all the power and she had none.

His hands were tearing at her panties now, yanking them down her legs. She wanted to scream so loud that the sky would come falling down to stop her humiliation but what came out was a pathetic sputtery mewing. A tiny sound that wouldn't even frighten a sparrow.

When he had them off her, Vlajko shushed her and stood up to take off his clothes, assuming that Aamu, exposed and defeated, would stay still. But Aamu watched and waited for the exact moment he was doubled over with his pants in the most cumbersome position halfway down his calves, to bolt up and dash out of the room. Vlajko swore as he lost precious seconds kicking his pants off and then ran after her.

She'd lost her edge clawing open the bedroom door and so he got hold of her arm before she reached the front door.

"Let me go!" Aamu fumed when he yanked her back to face him. When he didn't obey, she screamed at the top of her lungs, "Let go!" struggling and tugging to get free.

"Don't play games with me, little girl. I'm not some little schoolboy you can tease and tease and get away with it. You're not going anywhere," Vlajko snarled, but Aamu slapped him hard in the face with her free hand and, surprised, he let go. Aamu spun on her heels to storm out into the night but then everything happened so fast. First Vlajko's hands were on her waist and she was flying. Next she hit the couch with a blinding thump and lay sprawled on the floor. Then Vlajko was already at her again, hauling her up and flung her across the room into the bedroom, where the sheer momentum made her fall on her face once more. During this assault Aamu was too stunned to even scream.

Vlajko yanked her up from where she'd fallen and dragged her with him, kissing her hard with lust, grunting, licking her ear, speaking with malice, killing her hope. She knew he was taking her back to bed. There he'd rape her and there was nothing she could do. She felt his terribly strong hands grab her under her arms and throw her on the bed. She fought back hard but he was so much bigger that he maneuvered her easily as if she was nothing but a doll.

Then he was on her, tearing at her nightie, sucking and biting at her tiny tits, laughing at her dazed attempts to beat him off her. She screamed for help and he hit her, a hard slap on the side of her head that seemed to deafen her and send her brain crashing about in her skull. Her head hurt so much that she couldn't move, and in those few seconds he yanked her nightgown off her. She moaned beneath him, "No," and "Please," but he shut her mouth with beastly, suffocating kisses.

He wrenched her thighs apart and kneeled between them. "Have you ever seen a horse's cock?" he smirked with vicious glee. "Well, you're about to feel one now."

He put his hands under Aamu's hips and rose her up a little, just to the height of his cock. He fumbled with her labia, stretching, pulling, spreading, searching. Aamu knew what would follow. And she knew she was powerless to stop him but she didn't want to be raped, didn't want a man, a stranger, inside her. She didn't want to catch some revolting disease. Or a lethal one. She didn't want to get pregnant either, and so she wriggled and begged him, screaming, "No, please no. Not without a condom. Please. Wait!" But holding her still Vlajko lined his cock, blunt and thick as her fist, against her pink, moist little snatch.

"What's that?" Aamu gasped when she felt the size of the thing pressing for entry. No sooner than her words were out she realized how stupid her question was. "Oh no. Oh god. No, no. Please no." she babbled but knew it was useless. She hadn't known a penis could be so thick. He was huge, thicker even than her largest dildos. Perhaps it wouldn't have been such a problem in another kind of situation but right now she was terrified and he furious.

He pushed and pushed but couldn't get in; his fat, blunt cock just dragged her labia before it, driving her tender soft flesh inwards into her body. He fingered her roughly but as no more wetness came forth from the scared girl he spread her lips painfully wide and revealed her tiny little hole to gape open. For good measure, he spat on her several times and rubbed it in. Then he lined his cock with her cunt and started pushing even harder. Aamu cried out, her voice shrill, when his cock plunged in, suddenly and brutally, and she felt her insides rip, tear and bleed from the violence of his assault.

Screams of pain interspersed her desperate pleas and panicked whining breaths when he made a new push. She was so tight and her muscles cramped with shock making her even tighter. It hurt him to force his way into her but what was more important it hurt her more. When he stopped, the girl beneath him panted in wide-eyed fear as she got an idea of how big he truly was.

Vlajko grinned at her, pleased to see her so terrified. Silly little thing, he thought, what else could she have expected from a man the size of him? Serbs weren't weaklings, they were real men and now it was her time to learn it.

Her desperate screams and pleas were a huge turn-on but she had closed her eyes and refused to look at him. Vlajko knew what she tried to do and didn't like her trying to drift away. He turned her face towards him. "Look at me," he whispered with his trust-me-and-let-go,-let-me take-care-of-you voice. "C'mon baby, look at me."

He kissed her on her grimaced lips and stroked the tangled wisps of hair from her face. His dick throbbed so badly he couldn't wait any longer and he slapped her face lightly. That finally made her look up at him and reveling in the green confusion of her dark-rimmed irises he thrust inside her, all the way, savoring her horror, pain and defeat, feeling her tight, cramping muscles wrap around his cock and squeeze.

Aamu felt like she was being impaled, the breath punched out of her so that she could barely draw in more. The pain and the pressure of his huge cock stretched her insides until she could feel Vlajko way up inside her in places she hadn't even know she had. She opened her legs wide to make more room for him and ease the pain but at this he only laughed and nudged even deeper.

"See, you like it. You're mine now. My little girl. My little mouse. My beautiful, moaning little mouse," he droned, ever drowning her agonized cries in his lustful, sick reassurance.

She wanted to be cold and dead but couldn't make herself not feel his thrusts as he rammed his cock in and out of her tight, young cunt, growling and bellowing like an animal. Each stroke burned and chafed her, hurting more than the last, raking and ripping more cuts and sores into her tender, taut-stretched flesh and his groans mixed with her gurgles and cries. She felt so good around his swollen meat he thought for a second he might pass out. The pressure and the pleasure were so vast they burned him, yet a part of his shaft was still left out. Stubbornly he started pushing against the back of her cunt, ramming her pelvic floor up into her body to force his whole length inside of her. Aamu protested with a shrill scream and tried to break free as she felt her flesh bruise and tear, but Vlajko lay on top of her so she couldn't slip away and kept on the pressure until he was fully inside of her. "Hush little dove," he whispered to his struggling, weeping victim and kissed her beside the ear. "Don't make it harder on yourself."

Now he fucked her with force, driving in all his length on each punishing thrust. Each new lunge hit Aamu's entire torso with a savage jolt of pain and she felt cruel, unnatural tugs in her sides as her pelvic floor was rammed up before his cock. His fury seemed to rip the bottom of her pelvis from her sides, but all the pain she was in was nothing to him. Nothing but entertainment, a cruel game. Or did he not understand how much he was hurting her, torturing her, by forcing his unnatural cock into her tiny, inexperienced body. But he must have seen he hurt her, seen the constant rictus of pain on her face, realized the insane amounts of brutal violence he used to force her tissue to accept his whole length. Why was he doing this to her?

When the sharpest edge of his pent up frustrations had passed, he pressed his drooling mouth against her cheek and his hoarse panting made her want to throw up. He licked her face greedily, murmuring filth in her ear, and the trace of spit coolly evaporating from her skin was as stark a reminder of her helpless state as the cock ceaselessly ravishing her body.

She wanted to think that she could have borne straightforward pain stoically with bitter hate but it was the sweet words and the lazy mouth assaulting her that got to her the worst. Vlajko's disgusting slovenly kisses, gentle whispers and proud praises made her feel like he was inside of her head, making a rape into what it was not, stealing from her even the right to her own feelings.

Aamu quit fighting back, but kept cramping in pain and howling as he ravished her. He imagined the pain she was in, being forced to accommodate all of him at once without a period of slowly getting accustomed. Her tight little snatch made eager squishy noises as he churned in it. Stretched as far as she could go and beyond, Vlajko felt her muscles twitching and rippling around his shaft. She was bleeding some but endured his passion grabbing the sheets and biting her lip. She hadn't been a virgin so the bleeding was all his doing. Part of him felt sorry but the bigger part loved the idea of her being in pain -- pain he controlled. He could feel the back wall of her vagina on his every thrust and kept cruelly pushing and pushing, stretching her, making her wail until it gave way and his cock was completely inside her. "Good girl," he praised her, when she let him hurt her.

When he could no longer hold back, an explosive orgasm hit him with full force. He roared like never before, almost in agony, and pumped and bellowed out the built-up weight of all the solitary years until he crashed down on top of her, gasping for breath, head swimming, muscles twitching and hot surges of blood blackening his vision. Minutes afterwards, as he slowly came to, Aamu was so still beneath him he could barely make out she was still breathing.

"Oh God," he whispered into her ear and rolled off her and off the bed. The subsiding exhaustion left him feeling invigorated, bursting, elated. Light of foot he walked out, leaving her crying quietly on the bed, her battered, swollen mess of a crotch glistening with cum, cunt juice and blood, her beautiful pale skin blotchy all over with fresh bruises. She'd expected to feel dirty and devastated but she didn't, at least not yet. She didn't feel anything but the aftershocks of pain. Her emotions were in a complete lockdown but tears still kept coming in violent bursts even though she was too deep in shock to determine what she was actually crying about.

Trembling and shaking she hid under the duvet and curled into a ball. He didn't return until well after she'd cried herself to sleep.

Chapter 5

She woke up in the morning bruised, frightened and too sore to move. Her confusion was total; all the safe and happy days she'd spent with him offered no explanation as to how things could have gone so wrong so fast, and she was relieved that he wasn't beside her and she could think and plan in private for a while. Yet try as she might, the jumble in her head would make no sense, and all too soon the door creaked and she heard his steps approaching.

She was expecting to see a glint of violent, obsessive madness in his eyes, the glint those horror movie guys have who keep feral girls locked up in their basements for the most violent and depraved deeds imaginable. But there was no madness there, just Vlajko as he had always been. He looked down upon her with pity and compassion, stroked her tangled hair and spoke soothing words. She was frightened of him, and didn't dare to pull away even though she loathed the touch of her rapist. She closed her eyes to at least be spared the sight of him, but his voice lured her to look at him and try as she might she could find no malice in his face now.

He brought her a clean nightie and served her breakfast in bed, but sorry as he seemed to be he still wasn't sorry enough to pay mind to her asking him to let her go home. He was kind and attentive, yet last night had shattered the image of him she'd nurtured in her mind and she didn't know what to think now. Mere hours ago he'd been cruel and violent, gleefully tearing and tormenting her while she screamed in pain. Now he sat there with that familiar air of reassuring warmth she'd come to associate with him. Yet she saw what he was doing; he was trying to comfort her, to wipe away what he'd done, to dim in her mind the fact that she'd wept and bled and begged and still he had raped her. It was humiliating and insulting that the one to have abused her now wished to sooth and comfort her, but still she wanted to give into it, she needed this now, she needed to be held and soothed. But why did it have to be him?