tagNonConsent/ReluctanceI know That It Was You

I know That It Was You

bylilmisssmartypants©

Carly hit the "info" button on her remote, to scan the Friday night cable schedule. Her boyfriend was working tonight, and wouldn't be home until at least 3:00am. She had the whole night to herself, and she was going to make the most of it. On the kitchen counter, she had a bottle of tequila, just begging to be opened. She poured a double shot into a short glass, took a sip, and closed her eyes as the warm liquid slipped over her tongue and down her throat. "Now all I need is a good movie," she thought. She had just slipped under her fluffy blanket, when the phone rang. With her drink in her left hand, Carly reached for the phone with her right.

"Hello?"

"Guess who this is," the caller said, teasingly.

Even after all these years, Carly still recognized his voice. It was Mark. She almost dropped her drink.

Carly met Mark about thirteen years ago. It never was much of a love story; it was mostly about sex. She had just started a new job and Mark was her boss. He flirted mercilessly, and Carly was really turned on by him, but she was seriously involved with someone, and couldn't stand the thought of cheating. Her sex life with her boyfriend Derek wasn't much to speak of, but that was mostly her fault, she thought. Carly just wasn't turned on by sweet, romantic sex, and that's what Derek was all about. He was a great guy and really cared for her, and she for him. But for the first time in her life, her sexual desires overpowered her conscience, and she cheated with Mark once. She was so guilt-ridden afterward, that she felt physically ill for days, and told Mark that they couldn't do it again. But Derek found out, and their relationship ended terribly and immediately. Mark offered his place, and rather than move home to her parents house, she moved in with him.

The sexual chemistry with Mark was just amazing. Carly was the sexually timid girl who had darker fantasies, and Mark was the over-confident lothario, who was more than willing to help her explore those fantasies. For her, the sex was like nothing she'd ever had before. She was pretty sure that she had always had rape fantasies, and Mark just loved to fulfill them for her. He was like her missing puzzle piece. He just seemed to know what she wanted. She would struggle and he would hold her down and just take her. He talked dirty at all the right moments. It was unbelievable.

But the sex was the only thing that was working. They didn't love each other. Sometimes, she downright hated him. Mark was a racist, and that turned her stomach. He was immature, and would laugh at jokes that until then, Carly thought only 12-year-old boys could truly appreciate. After about six months, he started cheating on her with at least a few different girls. He was quite the practiced liar, and when she became suspicious, he was a master at making her feel like both she and her questions were crazy. She doesn't know why she stayed; it made her feel pathetic and miserable. Finally, after about a year, she got smart and got the hell out of there. At least she had learned from it. No one would ever get the chance to treat her badly a second time. "One strike, and you're out," she decided. She would make sure that she never felt that bad about herself again.

Three years after she left, Mark sent her a letter. Carly had recently moved, and the letter had been forwarded from her old address. The letter's content was shocking. Mark was in prison. He had robbed a convenience store with an un-loaded gun, and he was just sentenced to eight years. Carly was stunned. The guy that she knew would never have committed armed robbery. She'd never known anyone who would commit armed robbery, she told herself. What the hell happened to him? She answered his letter, expressing her shock at the news. That was the extent of their correspondence.

Seven long years later, Mark got Carly's phone number from an old friend, and called her. He was exactly the same, and even though it must be difficult to be smug when you're calling from prison, he managed it. During what was an otherwise friendly call, he asked her if she was the one who had helped to put him out of business. Carly had no idea what he was talking about.

Turns out, shortly after she packed up and left, someone had printed flyers exposing the fact that Mark's business was racist and posted them all over the local college campus. The college was his bread and butter, and this sabotage had cost him so much business, that he had to pack it in. While she didn't shed any tears for him, Carly did let him know that she had nothing to do with it, and hadn't been in the area since she moved home, 150 miles away. He said he believed her and changed the subject. He asked about her life, and Carly told him that she had been in a serious relationship for the last two years. Right before they hung up, he informed her that he only had a year of his sentence to go. That was the last time she heard from Mark. It was about two years ago.

But here he was on the phone. And as unexpected as this call was, his next words were a thousand times more unexpected.

"I'm downstairs in the parking lot."

Carly's mind was racing. Was he joking? How did he know where she lived? It turns out, he had kept the envelope from the one letter that she sent to him in prison, and it had her address on it.

"Which building is your apartment in?" He sounded so pleased with himself.

Carly thought for a quick second, and said, "I'll come down." No way was she letting him in her apartment. He was an ex-con, for Christ's sake! She didn't even know him anymore. Who knows what eight years of hard time might do to someone? That scared her.

Quickly peeling off her pajama bottoms and tank, Carly put on her running pants and sneakers. She slipped on a racer-back bra and pulled a tee shirt over her head. She stopped at the mirror, to assess whether or not the last 12 years had changed her much. Her auburn hair was at least 4 inches longer than the last time Mark had seen it. Her body was in great shape, thanks to the gym that opened across the street. Even without makeup, she looked good. Good enough to say "hello" to someone in a dark parking lot, anyway. She closed the door behind her and headed down the stairs.

There he was; Mark; and he did look 12 years older. "Good," Carly thought to herself, although, she did have to admit that he looked more muscular. "He must have started working out in prison," she surmised. He had a shit-eating grin on his face, if she ever saw one. They hugged, and he asked, "Is your boyfriend home?"

She should have said "yes." Why didn't she just lie? Instead, she said, "No, he's at work. And I don't feel right about having you in my apartment while he's at work."

Mark put on his saddest face. He leaned against his SUV, jingled his keys and said, "Will you go for a ride with me?"

"What? No."

He looked hurt. "Boy, you really don't trust me! What is that about? Did I ever hurt you, or threaten you in any way? I just wanna talk. And standing in the middle of a parking lot seems stupid to me. What do you think I'm gonna do?"

And suddenly, Carly felt ridiculous. What did she think he was going to do? He was looking at her like she had a screw loose. He was right about one thing; she never had felt physically threatened by him. So, she let her awkwardness win, over common sense. She got into the SUV. Mark pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Carly's gut told her that this wasn't a good idea. She engaged him in small talk to calm her own nerves.

They had driven for only five or six minutes, when he pulled off onto a side street. There were maybe three houses on the dark road, and absolutely no traffic. Carly started to feel a little jumpy, but thought, "Calm down. He turned here because he doesn't know the area." They drove to a section of the road where there were no lights or houses; just grass and trees and darkness.

"Where are we going," she asked, biting her lip.

"I just wanna park so we can talk," he said. "Somewhere quiet." Calmly, he pulled into a long dirt driveway, drove about twenty feet, and stopped. He turned the ignition off, turned on the interior light and shifted in his seat to face her.

"I know that it was you." He said it in an eerily calm voice. That was all he said. He stared at her, waiting for a response.

"You know that what was me?" She honestly had no idea.

"The school thing. The stuff about my business. I know that it was you."

This again? She thought that they were past this. "Mark, we've been over this. It wasn't me. You know that."

"Just admit it to me. Just say the words." He reached out with one hand, and pinched her nipple between his fingers.

Carly wasn't prepared for his sudden move. She swatted his hand away and pressed her back into the door to get as much space between them as possible. "I want to go back, please. Please take me back."

"I know that it was you." He was really creeping her out now.

She had had enough. "Look, you can say it over and over, but it doesn't make it true, and I'm not going to confess to something that I didn't do." She didn't know if she was more scared or angry at this point.

So he stopped saying that. He said something completely different. "Get in the back."

"What?" She turned her head and looked into the back of the large vehicle. Were the seats folded down? All she knew was, there were no seats. Just a blanket, all spread out. She felt like she didn't understand anything. "What?"

"You heard me. Get in the back."

"Have you lost your mind? This isn't funny. I want to go home."

Mark didn't even have an expression on his face. It was weird and blank. "Get in the back. I'm not going to say it again."

Carly was trying to stay calm, and not show how freaked out she was. She slowly put her hand behind her and onto the door handle, and said, "It's fine. I'll walk." She opened the door.

Suddenly, Mark was lunging across the seat, on top of her, reaching for the door handle. He grabbed it and slammed the door shut. He took hold of her and pushed her through the space between their seats toward the back. The top half of her body was in the back, the bottom half was in the front and she was face down. She felt his hand slide between her thighs, and without thinking, she frantically pulled herself forward. In trying to escape his hand, Carly had pulled herself into the back of the SUV. In a split second, he was on top of her, his hands around her waist, the weight of his body on her legs. He had her pinned, face down. Crawling up her body, he slid his hands under her, squeezing her breasts. She could feel his hard-on slowly grinding into her from behind. She heard herself screaming, "Get off of me! Get off!" But he kept grinding into her.

"You know, the more you squirm, the harder I get." He pressed his mouth to her ear, and said in a thick whisper, "Bring back memories? Remember how I used to chase you down? It always made me so fucking hard."

Mark moved off of her, grabbed her arm and violently rolled her onto her back. He was back on top of her before she had a chance to move. Carly instinctively brought her arms up in front of her, like she was blocking a punch. She didn't know why she did that; she just had no idea what he was going to do next, and she was panicked. Mark took her wrists in his hands and laughed at her, shaking her arms back and forth, like they were rubber. "What are you gonna do with these?" Leaning forward over her head, he slapped her wrist into a metal handcuff. Carly felt the metal and looked up. The cuffs had been threaded through something on the inside of the hatch door. In less than two seconds, her other wrist was in the other cuff.

Carly pleaded with him, "Please... Please... Don't do this."

Mark just shook his head and smirked. "I love this game."

"This is not a game! Do you understand that? That was twelve years ago! I'm with someone else now! I'm not playing a game!" She was sounding pretty scared now.

"Yes, you are. You forget; I know you. You say those things, but you want it. I'll bet your pussy's wet already." And with that, he slid his hand down the front of her running pants. He wasn't looking at her. His eyes were fixed on his hand, moving under her pants. As soon as he reached the top of her slit, he grinned and looked her straight in the eye. "You shaved your pussy? You never shaved your pussy for me! You little slut." He continued to slide his hand down, and stared at her face, wanting to take in her reaction. "God, no," she thought, when she felt herself getting wet. His fingers spread her lips, and he slid the flat of his palm in between. "Mmmmm. Warm and wet, just like I like it." She was mortified. He saw that she was mortified, and that made him happy.

Mark slid his hand back and forth in her spread pussy, and was again watching the moving lump under her pants. Pressing down with his palm and lifting it, pressing and lifting; he felt her getting wetter. She watched him watching his own work; the lump in her pants going up and down, up and down. His palm felt sticky, and she began to hear what he was doing to her, not just feel it. Every time his palm went up or down, she could hear the "squishing," and she just prayed that Mark didn't hear it. She started to speak, trying to drown it out. "Mark... Please. Please stop." But Mark was almost in a trance, lowering his head to listen to the sound coming from inside her pants.

"Shhhh... Listen," he said. (Squish... Squish...) "You must want it bad." (Squish... Squish...) "I'm gonna pump that little pussy so hard."

Mark pulled his hand from her pants, put it to his nose and inhaled deeply. "Mmmmm. Smells good enough to eat, don't ya think?" His hand went back down her pants, and again, he pushed his palm between her soft pussy lips. He clearly heard it "squish," and so did Carly.

Mark was smiling. "Your eyes say 'no,' but this juicy pussy says 'yes.' Guess which one I'm gonna listen to? I'll give you a hint: in a few minutes, the whole truck is gonna smell like wet pussy."

He pulled her sneakers off, then her running pants and thong were yanked down, exposing her to him. Carly flailed and kicked, while he peeled them toward her ankles and stripped them from her body. Suddenly, her left leg was pulled toward the driver's side back door, and Mark closed another cuff around her ankle. Climbing on top of her, he grabbed her flailing right leg, and pushing it to the opposite door, secured the last cuff. His eyes roamed over her now spread-eagle body, and he looked pleased. "You should take this as a compliment," he said sarcastically. "Look how much time I spent planning our date." He slid his thumbs between her lips and pulled her wide open. "I hope you don't fall in love with me again," he said with a smirk, as he lowered his mouth into her spread pussy.

"I was never in love with you," she whispered.

Mark looked up at her; he was angry. "Say what you have to say to make yourself feel better, sweetheart. I don't really care. I just need you to lay there with your legs and this creamy little cunt spread open for me. Do you think you can handle that?" He began to lower his head again, but suddenly stopped and turned to face her. "Oh, and after we're done, don't bother telling anyone that you were "raped" (he made the "quote" signs in the air when he said it), because no one's gonna believe you. I told a few people how much you used to love to pretend I was raping you. I'm sure they would testify to that. I'll just say that it was a game. Worst-case scenario, I'll say I thought it was a game. And I bet you've had other boyfriends who knew that you liked to play rough. Probably even the guy you're with now! No one will believe you were raped. Not even him."

Carly was horrified. "But it's different! All those other times, I was in a relationship with you! Now I'm with someone else!" A tear rolled down her cheek.

Mark pouted his lip, and spoke to her like she was a child. "Yes, and we all know that you would never cheat, right? Oh, wait a minute... That's right! You would." He shook his head and laughed, looking at her like she was pitiful. "Do you think I didn't think this through?"

"Oh my God. No one's going to believe me," Carly thought. "He's right." She couldn't speak. She felt beaten.

Mark returned to his former position, spread her pussy lips wide and started sucking. Carly struggled, but the weight of his upper body on her thighs and pelvis held her in place. He loved that he was forcing himself on her; holding her wide open while he sloppily ate her. He knew the embarrassment must be killing her. She was completely powerless to stop him, and that really made him hard. The SUV was filled with wet, slurping sounds, and he was getting those sounds from an unwilling pussy. This was incredible. He felt like a God. His exaggerated licking and sucking noises were intended to humiliate her, and so were his words. "Oh yeah, baby. It's so good. Mmmmm... Listen to that creamy cunt." He started lapping at her pussy like a dog. She tried to block it all out, but the sounds were impossible to ignore, and the feeling of his tongue on her was too much to bear. Mark could feel that she was getting close. He opened his mouth wide, covering her whole pussy, and sucked hard. Carly tried, but couldn't hold it back any more. She came; her whole body shaking.

Mark lifted his wet face from between her legs and licked his lips slowly, exaggerating the action to further embarrass her. "I know you're probably dying to suck my cock, but you'll have to wait," he said. "Right now, I think it would be a shame to let this wet pussy go to waste." He climbed into the front seat and opened the driver's side door. Stepping outside, he removed his pants, and Carly could hear him say, "I've got a big, hard cock for you, bitch. You're gonna get it real good." She suddenly remembered that when Mark got hard, it was shockingly hard, and he could do it over and over. She had never seen anything like it, before or since. He climbed back into the front seat, tossed his pants into the back and straddled the center console. His cock was straight up against his stomach, and it looked like a steel pole. He was stroking himself vulgarly, and with a wide grin, he announced, "Uh-oh. I think this might hurt." She couldn't look at him. She turned her head to the side and closed her eyes. Mark wouldn't have any of it.

"I think you're gonna wanna see this," he growled.

Climbing into the back, he gathered both of their pants and grabbed a handful of her hair in his hand. He roughly turned her head forward and pulled it up off of the floor, bunched up the pants, and shoved them under her head, leaving it slightly elevated. Repositioning himself between her legs, Mark looked into her big, green eyes and said, "Watch this."

He guided his cock to the entrance of her pussy, and checking to make sure that she was watching, slammed it into her. Carly couldn't stand the thought of him getting satisfaction from her horror, and somehow, although he did hurt her, she managed to suppress any reaction. She just stared at him, devoid of expression. But Mark knew what he came for, and wasn't about to give up. He started to pump her pussy slowly, but every so often, he thrust into her violently, slamming her into the blanketed floor; staring intently at her face.

Carly's tough veneer finally crumbled, and she began to cry. Mark was satisfied. He felt so powerful. He wanted her to know who was in charge, and now she knew. Damn, that got him off.

He began pumping his hard cock in and out of her, making sure she knew how good it felt, being inside of her. "Aaaaah. Oh, God, yesssss. That's so good. Are you watching, Carly?" He looked up at her, to make sure that she was. "Look at that big cock, sliding in and out of your little pussy. There's not a God damn thing you can do about it. That is so hot." After a few minutes, he felt himself unable to hold back anymore. The sound of his own words had pushed Mark over the edge. Thrusting one last time, he came inside of her.

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