Laundry Room Ravishment

You were in the basement of your three-story residence hall, pulling sweaters out of the washing machine so that you could hang them up to dry. Once you'd clipped the last knitted jumper to the clothesline strung across the back of the laundry room, you bent over to get your remaining items out of the washer, your yoga pants clinging to your ass.

You hadn't even noticed Sam in the corner. When had he slipped through the open door? He let out an approving hum as you spotted him in your peripheral vision. You straightened up quickly and shoved an armload of wet clothes into the dryer, trying not to look vulnerable or flustered.

Sam was an RA on the second floor. The freshman boys needed a firm hand to keep them in line, or they would be up partying all night, every night. Sam was just what they needed-tall, athletic, and totally immune to the usual first-year tricks. A senior, he had a commanding presence that matched his stature, as well as long sandy blond hair and a thin mustache. You had never liked the facial hair and wished he would shave, but you'd never interacted with each other all that much.

He walked nonchalantly toward the door to the hallway, peering out and looking both ways before shutting it in one smooth motion. His hands delved in his pocket to find a garishly colorful key chain; a second later the door was locked. And then he was casually stepping towards you at your station on the other side of the room.

"H-hey Sam," you chuckled weakly, "what's going on? Lockdown? I didn't get a text..."

Your hand went for your pants pocket only to find that you didn't have one. Damn leggings-you must have left your phone in your room! But if this was a lockdown, alarms would be blaring. A shiver went down your spine as you slammed the dryer door shut and pressed the "start" button.

"I couldn't help but notice you on your way down here dressed in an outfit like that," Sam drawled, coming ever closer. His eyes lingered on your ass, so you turned to face him head on. At least that way he couldn't stare at you like a total perv.

"Sam. I'm just wearing what I wear to the gym. Or-or to go to sleep. Seriously, what's your deal?" You tried to laugh, to diffuse the tension building in the room. Suddenly you wished for some fresh air, but there were no windows on the basement level. Your eyes darted around, looking for an escape route, finding only the door which the RA had locked with his specially-issued keys.

"I think you know, sweetheart," Sam purred, his face now mere inches from yours. "You've got such an incredible body. And those lips...well, I think you already know what I've pictured them wrapped around." A shudder rippled through your torso as you crossed your arms over your chest protectively.

"But that's for another time," the imposing senior mused, maintaining eye contact. It felt as if his gaze was searing you alive. His hands came up to grab your wrists, prying your folded arms apart and pinning you against the rumbling dryer. "Wouldn't it be fun to watch you play with yourself against the machine," Sam laughed. "Feel those vibrations? Do you own a toy like that?"

You shook your head "yes" without speaking, now properly terrified. Only one thing could happen now. He was going to force himself on you.

"Good. What kind? A little bullet vibe? A big dildo with a rotating motor? Oh, do tell."

"I-I have a rabbit..." you said, looking away and blushing fiercely.Why am I telling him anything? Rapists don't deserve pleasure. They don't deserve to know shit about me-

-oh god, I'm about to be raped.

From that moment on you refused to speak another word. No matter what he did to you. No matter what he said. No matter what-

"Look at me, baby. I bet you love to fuck yourself with that rabbit vibe while imagining it's really a thick cock inside your tight pussy." Your lips parted in silent protest. "Shh-I'll do the talking. Time to get those clothes off. It's almost a sin, they look so good on you." His large hands began tugging at your pants, pulling them off your hips, your pink striped panties coming along for the ride. Soon they were at your ankles. "What a funny sight it would be, if you tried to run. Waddling like a penguin." Sam smiled beatifically. "Of course you'd never run from me. You want this. I've watched you. You're a slut and a whore and you're going to take my cock like a good girl."

And with that, his thick fingers were stroking at your pussy lips, petting and teasing and pinching. One fingertip was pushing inside you-then another-and you were undeniably wet, your wrists still pinned against the laundry machine by just one of his hands, so much larger than yours, and his chest was pressed against your tits. So warm. So strong. So forceful.

"Very nice. I hate fucking sluts dry. I like how you're dripping for me. Now be good and stay right where you are, do you understand?" His eyes bored into yours, and you gave a quick nod before squeezing your eyelids shut against the hateful sight of your captor. He released your wrists, but you didn't dare move from the position he'd placed you in, not even when his newly freed hand groped at your tits under your tee shirt. "Cute. Not too big, not too small. A handful." He gave one last squeeze before bringing both hands to your hip bones. "Now spin." A gentle push was all it took to get you facing the machines, your ass sticking out lewdly and grazing his erection.

"It's time for you to take my cock like a good bitch, you get me?" he hissed, hot breath on your ear, hands exploring your ass and occasionally pinching it hard. "I know you do. Make sure and relax. I'm not small." Two fingers probed your still-soaked pussy to test the waters and were swiftly replaced with a swollen, leaking cock head. When had he taken off his jeans? Tears leaked from your eyes as the thick, warm prick entered your hole agonizingly slowly, stretching you out inch by teasing inch. When he was all the way inside, he paused to let you feel his heavy balls resting against your curvy ass.

"Don't worry, baby, I'll go easy on you for your first time with me," he murmured in your ear. The sound of his voice revolted you and you tried to pull away, but he only laughed in a low, throaty voice and tightened his hold on your hips. "How you like my cock? Want me to move yet? Want me to pound you against this goddamn washing machine like the fucking whore you are, huh?" His dick pumped slowly in and out of your pussy as he spoke, but when the last word dropped from his lips he picked up a faster rhythm, driving in to the hilt and then pulling out again at a steady pace. "You're ready to take me for real now, I can tell."

His thick cock thrust into your aching pussy, slamming up against your cervix, making you writhe and wail in his arms. His balls slapped against your ass obscenely, making a loudthwapping sound. You prayed desperately that no one in the building could hear you getting fucked by an RA. No, beingraped. Here in the laundry room with no one to see, no one to help, no one to cry out to except this monster who had trapped you with him, all alone. Your terrified whimpers and involuntary squeaks when Sam's cock hit an especially sensitive part of your tunnel were what drove him to the edge, and his movements became more erratic. "Fuck... I'm gonna come... Gonna breed that tight fucking pussy... My God, you're such a slut..."

And with a lust-filled groan, he bottomed out one last time in your abused hole, his hot sperm spraying deep inside your pussy. If you could speak, you would have screamed for him to stop, to please come anywhere but there, to make a mess of your ass or your tits but not to get you pregnant, you had missed a day on the pill last week and you weren't protected-

His shrinking cock slipped out of your entrance with a sickening squelch as he sighed in bliss. "You're a good fuck. Jesus Christ. We'll have to do this again sometime. Soon." With a wink, he picked your discarded clothing up off the floor and placed it on top of the dryer, still rumbling away as if nothing had happened. "Get yourself cleaned up. Look at you, cum dripping out of your pussy. Fucking lewd."

The door was unlocked and he slipped out quietly, turning to give you one last dazzling, psychopathic grin before returning to his second floor haunt.

You sank onto your knees, ignoring the feel of the cold concrete floor against your bare skin. You wanted to get dressed. You wanted to leave. But you couldn't move, couldn't walk, couldn't talk. Not yet.

A few minutes later, your mind still spinning, you gathered up your things, pulled on your yoga pants with shaking hands, and left.

Surely your roommate would be willing to do all your laundry for the rest of the semester, if you agreed to buy enough of her favorite snacks.