His Katja

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He takes his best friend as she sleeps, and she awakens.
1.8k words
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She lay sleeping in her bed, her sheer silky nightgown clinging to her curves as she dreamed. He stared in fascination as her generous breasts jiggled slightly with each breath, his cock growing fully erect as he watched her.

Gently, so gently, he tugged down the tangle of sheet and blankets so he could see what lay below. His mouth went dry, and then watered, at the sight of her juicy mound, visible through the light fabric of her gown.

Her garment was twisted around her hips, and he gently slid a warm, work-roughened hand beneath to feel the silky texture of her skin, palm her delicious curves. The strain in his cock grew worse as he smelled her. He'd always loved the way she smelled, like spring flowers mixed with the heady aroma that was her own scent. That musky scent was stronger now, as he was so close to her. So close…

With painstaking slowness, so as not to wake her, he tugged her nightgown up over her body and slid it off of her, careful not to tug on her long dark hair as he carefully pulled it over her head. Then he stood back and got his first real look at her body.

She was glorious.

Perfect, large breasts crowned in dusky areolas moved dangerously under a face that was innocence itself. Her waist curved in perfectly, making him yearn to clench her to him, and her round hips were almost as good as her silky thighs. Between her perfect legs was a tuft of dark hair, and he knew that he would take her tonight. He had to. He would die if he didn't possess that sumptuous body, consume that amazing feast.

He fought himself, trying not to force her legs apart and slam his cock into her as he so badly needed to do. He didn't want to wake her, at least not yet. His sexy best friend was skittish, and he needed a fait accompli before she realised what was going on.


Besides, the idea of taking her when she was helpless like this was so appealing…

He bit back a groan when she moved in her sleep, spreading her legs a little wider, and he thought, to hell with it. This was his girl, his cunt, and he would fuck her right now, without any more of this damned waiting and being careful. Decided, he kneeled on the bed, between her opened legs.

She murmured something and moved her arms above her head, completely open to him now. This was meant to be. It must be. Why else was everything lining up so perfectly for him? Still, he refrained from moving until he was certain she still slept.

He reached round to the bag he'd left on the floor and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, warming them with his hands before gently tugging one wrist closer to the headboard and fastening one end of the cuff around it. The other end he looped through the headboard and closed around her other wrist. She barely stirred this whole time. Seeing her like this made his cock painfully hard, harder than it had ever been in his life, even more than when he'd watched her that first time in the shower…

He shoved her legs apart and was glad yet again that the girl he intended to possess was a heavy sleeper. He stared at her there, half-surprised to see that she was dripping wet, a small damp spot under her crotch. He gently pulled her pussy lips apart and groaned to see how small her hole was. He leaned down and kissed it, tasting her slick wetness, and then pulled away, reminding himself that he would need it to fit his cock in there. As far as he knew, this little cunt of his was a virgin.

He teased her clitoris a little with his finger, not trusting himself to put his mouth back on her, until she grew wetter again. He was shocked to see her orgasm in her sleep, quietly, ladylike. That was it. He forced her legs as wide as they would go, then gripped her pussy lips and yanked them as far apart as he could, and in the same moment slammed his cock against her hole. Only the very tip went in.

He shoved against her, harder, harder, sucking on her left nipple as she moaned in her deep sleep. Another centimetre of his cock slid into her. He could feel her strong young muscles squeeze around him, trying to push out the intruder, and thought with relish that he was deflowering her. Finally.

He pulled out and slammed his cock deeper into her, and she gave a little cry. He stilled and watched her face until her features smoothed out again and her breathing became more regular. Gods, her cunt was tight. It was like fucking a wee fairy or elf.

He wrestled his cock in, deeper and deeper, until he felt the barrier of her maidenhead. He felt a deep satisfaction knowing that no other man had felt this, no other man had had his cock buried in this exquisite creature the way he did now. And he swore no other man would. Mine, he thought fiercely, switching to her other breast. He bit down lightly as he thought, She's all mine. Just mine!

He burst through her hymen.

She screamed.

Her eyes flew open.

She tried to throw him off of her, but her hands were tied and the bucking of her hips only served to heat him more. Her breasts bounced wildly and he shoved his cock all the way into her, bottoming out inside of her, feeling the tip of his cock graze her womb. God, yes! he thought, but what he said out loud was, "You're mine!"

He yanked his cock from her gripping cunt and slammed it into her again, nearly coming at the superb tightness. He tore one hand away from the breast it was mauling to turn her face toward him.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, tears tracking down her cheeks from the pain.

He froze.

"Ah, gods, Katja, I did not mean to make you cry," he said, his throat thick. For all he had fantasised about raping this woman, he had not ever imagined her tears. He brushed a stray lock of dark hair aside and gently stroked her cheek. "The pain will pass, love, I promise."

A sob escaped her throat and she opened her eyes a little, looking betrayed, trapped, as she stared into his eyes. Damn it, this was not what he meant to happen! She was supposed to fight him, but she was supposed to like it underneath. Instead, he had truly hurt her, violated her in a way that wasn't a game, wasn't a fantasy.

Something in his chest tightened and he pulled out, trying to ignore the needs of his body. He lay on his side next to her and gently wiped at her tears. In all the years he'd known her, he had seen Katja cry only twice. Once when her mother died, and once when her sister had been raped. He felt his throat choke. Now he had raped her.

And he loved her. He knew he loved her, had known it in the back of his mind for years before he had the courage to face it. And now he'd hurt her so badly that she wept. His strong Katja, who never wept.

He kissed her. "I'm sorry," he murmured in her ear, fighting his own tears at her visible pain. "I'm so sorry, Katja, I'm so sorry."

He pulled away and looked at her, a tear escaping his eye. He wiped it away, his shame at what he had done stronger than any shame of tears.

Her own tears had mostly dried, and she looked up at him with an expression that he could not fathom, could not read. She was thought to be as cold as ice, but he had learnt to read her inner fire. Now he saw none. Either it was well hidden, or he had destroyed it with his betrayal of her trust. He hoped desperately that it was the former.

"Why?" she managed to say.

He hung his head. "I wanted—I thought—I hoped that maybe," he began miserably, "that maybe if it was done, you would not fight so much to not have me. I didn't mean to hurt you, Katja. I—I…" But he couldn't say it. She would hate him enough as it was, without her thinking him a liar when he told her of his love for her.

"It doesn't hurt so much now," she said quietly, her unreadable gaze fixed on his face. "Can you try to be careful this time, though?"

He just stared, certain that he misunderstood. "What do you—"

She lifted her head and kissed him fully on the mouth, cutting off his question, and spread her legs wider.

That was his answer. God help him if he had interpreted it wrong, but…

He straddled her again, kissing her, and gently pushed into her. She moaned, and her hot, tight heat wrapped around him so deliciously that he had to fight not to just hold her hips down and pound into her as hard as he needed to. He groaned, as much at that image as the way she felt around him as he slid out again.

He took up a steady rhythm and she began to moan continuously. Her orgasm hit unexpectedly, and she cried out in pleasure. Her sheath tightened almost painfully around his cock, and at the unexpected pleasure he groaned and couldn't resist slamming into her harder, harder, deeper, popping the tip of his cock into her cervix. Her eyes went wide as he pounded her deep inside, and he held back, trying not to come at the sheer pleasure of being so deep inside of her. His Katja. His sweet Katja…

"Katja," he groaned as he pulled out slowly, then bucked back into her violently. "Katja," he growled, "My Katja. Mine. You understand, Katja? You understand that you are mine now?" The whole time he was fucking her hard, probably hurting her again, but he was so far gone with pleasure that he could not bring himself to stop.

"Yes!" she screamed, coming again, her hot little cunt tightening around his cock. She was probably just yelling that because she was coming, he thought dimly, somewhere in the back of his mind, but his cock didn't know that, and he fucked her even harder as hot jets of cum spurted out of him, filling her virgin womb with his seed. For a moment he hoped desperately that she would grow big with his child and have a family with him…

Then, overcome by the sheer force of his orgasm, he pulled out of her and passed out on top of her warm body.

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AnonymousAnonymousover 6 years ago
So realistic

I love this and sort of also hate this because it reminds me of my abusive ex. This is exactly the kind of thought process I think he had so I'm amazed by the realism. I enjoy getting off to stuff that reminds me of being mistreated because I think that's how love felt with him -- a mix of degradation and worship of my body -- and though I'm still traumatized I miss that feeling. I've read that when sex and anguish coincide they can become wired together in the brain. This does not mean I liked what was done to me but I think it's my way of coping for now.

Anyway I want to show how my situation was similar and how this kind of thing plays out in real life (a rape situation never has a happy ending, ever). for example my ex assaulted me as our first sexual encounter while I was sleeping. He said that it was an opportunity he didn't want to miss because he didn't know when he would see me again. I said no when I first woke up then I said yes as he continued with touching anyway and I started to get turned on (I grew up in an abusive home and to me his behavior seemed like maybe it was just a fluke and he probably didn't mean it -- the same logic I applied to be able to love my parents). I don't think I would eventually have said yes to him if he hadn't assaulted me first. I probably wouldn't have ended up seeing him again. In our relationship he eventually became verbally abusive, I finally confronted him about the assault later on because I realized I had just buried my anger. He knew it was wrong but didn't understand why it was wrong but he felt bad that I was mad. He eventually also threatened to rape me and tried suffocating me while we were having sex. He said he liked seeing me in real pain. When I was struggling to breathe he first got aroused and then his arousal eventually dropped out and he looked at my struggle with pity and kissed me all over. I think he had mixed reactions to my pain and sometimes expressed remorse that it had happened but in my discussions with him it was like we spoke different languages. He didn't understand why his actions specifically had caused the pain and how deep the pain was. He thought I would just get over it with time.

It concerns me that the author knows this mindset in such a secondhand way without research and planning. What concerns me even more is his comment that her saying yes after "blurs the lines" and I wonder how much of this is his own fantasy. The moral that if you're "a nice guy" and apologize for raping someone that they'll reward your introspection by having sex with you, that fantasy is disturbing. And the lack of understanding that anyone who accepts someone who has raped them or assaulted them is doing something incredibly harmful to themselves in accepting the rapist.

indefinable1indefinable1over 13 years ago
Loved It

This is a good one. I loved your depiction. It's one of my fantasies so awesome job!

AnonymousAnonymousabout 15 years ago
loved it

I absolutely loved it is story was one of the better ones that i have read

AnonymousAnonymousover 15 years ago
Nice job

You know, there is no telling what would be the aftermath. Maybe she went along with the idea that if she didn't, he might hurt her. Maybe she went along because she wanted it and she could be guilt-free. And then afterward, maybe she treats him like shit or ends up reporting him or whatever.

The ambiguity adds to the story.

Again, nice job.

ConquerMeConquerMeover 15 years agoAuthor
Reply to Umberto's Comment

You're right, Umberto. It was the guilt and shock that he had done such a thing that I tried to portray, and then the possibility of redemption afterward.

I wrote this one bored morning, and since it's a first submission I don't doubt that I made some mistakes. But yes, definitely, it was wrong, and it was rape. After her comment, though... it gets a little blurry.

This story is intended purely as fantasy and DEFINITELY NOT to condone any such behaviour in real life. I apologise to anyone who was offended by such a story.

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