tagNonConsent/ReluctanceMichelle and Ricardo

Michelle and Ricardo


This story is very similar to Soular's Seven Days, but only in the basic premise. As the story builds, you'll find them to be nothing alike...hopefully anyway! Enjoy and let me know what you think. Even if you hate it, tell me why. Thanks!

Michelle felt the softness of lips pressed to hers and pressed her even more into them. Still half asleep, she allowed her lips to part and allowed a firm yet soft tongue to ease into her mouth. Then, almost as soon as it started it was over. The lips were gone and she curled her body into itself shifting slightly in her slumber. Ricardo watched her, interested in her reaction. He had expected it to wake her, and that he would have to calm her frantic nerves with an explanation. But she hadn't even opened her eyes. He watched her for a moment longer, wondering what she was dreaming about, and turned to leave.

It was early in the afternoon when Michelle finally woke. The bed was so warm and comfortable; she didn't even want to get out of it. She lay there with her eyes closed, breathing in the lavender scent that lightly graced the linens. Lavender. Lavender? Nothing in her room smelled like lavender. Especially not her sheets. Her eyes flew open. This was not her bed. It was too big. And she would never purchase cream colored sheets. And this wasn't her room. This room was half the size of the entire upstairs of her house. She felt the fear rising in her throat, threatening to choke her as she looked around the room.

She was afraid to get out of the bed, but also afraid to stay in it. Her breath quickened and swallowed simultaneously. She had been kidnapped. She was going to die. She was going to be raped and killed. Chopped into a million pieces. Hastily, she rushed from beneath the covers and rushed to the window. She had to be on the second or third floor of the house. And the lawn was extensive. Perfectly manicured. Oh, no. Some rich sick pervert had kidnapped her. And the house was probably gated. She wrapped her arms around herself as her mind raced. At least she wasn't naked. She still had on the cotton tank top and shorts she had put on before bed. In socked feet, she walked towards a door. It was just a closet, full of clothes she didn't bother to look through. She slipped on a pair of sneakers. They fit perfectly and looked new. Fucking pervert. She shook her head and opened another door. It was a bathroom. There was only one door left. She turned the knob slowly. Praying, she pushed it open. There was a hallway. A long dark hallway. Tentatively, she headed to her right. Before she could even

make it to the stairs, she felt a hand on her arm. Jumping, she screamed and tried to pull away. But the hand was stronger than her.

"Let me go!" She screamed not bothering to look back. She continued to jerk away, kicking her leg back to strike whatever was holding on to her. As soon as she finally managed to make contact, the arms of whatever wouldn't let her go, wrapped tightly around her upper body. "Get the fuck off of me!" she hissed evilly.

"Let's go back to you room." The voice was dragging her backwards as she struggled against it. Finally, the arms released her and she heard the click of a door closing. She was right back where she started. Fuck.

She whipped her body, eyes narrowed in determination, but as soon as she saw him, all thought left her. He was gorgeous with a chiseled face, muscular body, olive colored skin and eyes almost as dark as her own. Taking a step back, she composed herself.

"Who are you?"

"They call me Diablo." He almost laughed as her brow furrowed in disbelief.

"Like, the mafia guy Diablo?"

"Something like that..." he responded, walking towards her.

"You're not old enough." She took a few more steps back.

"Well, I guess you can say I'm Diablo the second. My father is the one you are referring to."

"I don't owe your family anything." He could see her lips trembling. He didn't doubt that her mind was racing, recalling every horror story she had heard about the ways of his father.

"But your family owed my family a lot."

"Look, I don't know anything about that. Any business you have with my cousins in between them and you. My parents don't have anything, so if you're asking for ransom money, you're not going to get it." She looked so sweet and innocent as she explained herself. She thought this was about her cousins, who were probably petty drug dealers.

"I'm not sure who your cousins are but I was referring to your parents. They owed my father fifty five thousand dollars." Michelle looked as though she might faint.

"What?" It was so faint he barely heard it. She took a seat on the edge of the bed. "We never had that kind of money."

"Clearly. And that's why you're here." She looked at him confused and upset.

"You want me to work for you?"

"Something like that..."

"To pay off some debt they have? My mother wouldn't come work for you?"

"Your mother has nothing for me," he seemed to have some type of permanent smirk etched across his face. She was still confused, her brow knit together as she tried to process the information. "You're parents and I had a deal. They took out a loan fifteen years ago, and haven't paid back one penny." He sat next to her, and she visibly stiffened. "So I demanded payment." She held her breath, waiting for what she knew was coming. "And they gave you to me to do with whatever I please." She clutched her chest and the sound she made could only be described as that of her heart breaking.

"You're lying." She whispered. "My parents love me. They would never do that. They...." It was almost like she was trying to convince herself as opposed to him. "They love me..." She moved her gaze from her lap to his eyes. "Could I be left alone please?"

There were tears in her big brown eyes and he knew he couldn't deny her such a simple request. Besides, she was his for as long as he wished. It wasn't his place to comfort her, so even though hit seemed appropriate to hold her, he simply stood without speaking, and closed the door quietly behind him.

As he sat in his at home office, he couldn't help but think of all the things he wanted to do to her. His heart went out to her...to a certain extent. But her parents had put themselves in a vulnerable situation in that situation and he simply happened to be in a position to take advantage of it. It wasn't his fault her parents were heartless enough to give away their only child with few questions asked. He wondered if they knew he had been watching her. When he drove through the neighborhood, or stopped by their home to inquire about payments, he found himself admiring her thick thighs and her narrow waist. Not to mention that wild hair and smooth dark skin. There was a sensuality that showed through the innocence of her. He felt himself hardening at the thought of bringing the sex from deep within her to the surface. He knew it when he kissed her lips hours ago. They were full, but not out of proportion to her face and the way his felt against hers, God, if she ever let another man experience that, he would have to break that man's face. Adjusting his tie, he decided to head to work.

Michelle sat perfectly still absolutely shell-shocked for about fifteen minutes. She didn't know what to think or feel. She couldn't even cry. What was to become of her? There was a soft tap at the door, but she didn't answer. Whoever it was came in quietly, and sat a tray on the bed next to her. It was an older woman. She was short, even shorter than Michelle, who was only 5'5. The woman pressed the back of her hand against Michelle's cheek.

"Pobrecito." She murmured. "Eat." Michelle couldn't help herself. She wrapped her arms around the woman's waist and wept. "Pobre." The woman continued to murmur shaking her head as she stroked the girls' poufy hair. They remained in that position for five minutes before the woman pulled away and repeated firmly, "Eat." She wiped away Michelle's tears with the corner of her apron. She stood there waiting until she began to eat and walked to the bathroom. She ran her a bath and by the time Michelle was done eating the sound of the water running into the tub had stopped. The woman lifted Michelle from the bed and pushed her in the direction of the bathroom. She looked back as she headed towards the bathroom, but the woman was already half way out the door.

Sighing, Michelle kicked off the shoes that weren't hers and removed her clothes. She wanted to think she had found a friend in the woman, but another part of her didn't want to trust anyone. The bathtub was larger than any one she had ever seen in a house that she'd been in, and bubbles looked all too inviting. And there was that lavender smell again. She slipped into the water, and the perfect temperature immediately soothed her frazzled nerves. The lavender scent must have been that woman's touch. Audibly, she moaned at the sensations that pleased every one of her senses except taste. Up to her neck in foam, Michelle soon found herself slipping into sleep again.

"Morena?" It was the most soothing voice in the world. "Bonita?" Someone was stroking her forehead. It was the woman.

"What is your name?"She asked. "Como te llamas?"

"Alicia." She answered, smiling at Michelle's Spanish.

"Soy Michelle." The woman merely continued to smile and lifted a towel for Michelle to step into. Obediently, she did.

"Michelle, tengo ir. Manana, si?" Alicia said.

"Si." Michelle nodded. When the door closed, Michelle grabbed a bottle of lotion and allowed herself collapse on the bed. Hmmph. It was Aveeno. She had sensitive skin, and nothing else really moisturized her skin without irritating it. What a weirdo. As she smoothed the lotion over her skin, all she could think about was how fucked up her life would be. What if he wanted her as some type of sex slave? What if he wanted to pimp her out to other men? In her opinion, criminals had no morals or compassion. She knew her situation was hopeless. But she wouldn't cry. She would be strong and find a way out. There was always a way out.

After choosing some almost perfectly fitting plain clothes that weren't hers from the closet, Michelle set out to investigate her surroundings. Most doors were locked or were guest rooms. She bumped into a few scary looking men before she wandered through a set of glass doors and into the backyard. She exhaled and forgot to inhale. There was green as far as the eye could see. Pops of bright yellow, white, and pink flowers drew her immediately. It looked unreal. It wasn't perfectly manicured, which only appealed to her even more. She walked slowly to the flowers, letting her fingertips skim the petals. There was the hint of a path, shaded by trees and she followed it, touching vines and trees as she went. After about five minutes, she came upon a swimming pool, and even a waterfall. It was beautiful as well, but she couldn't swim, so she turned around to walk back towards the house. Just before she stepped back into the sunlight, she saw him. She stopped, wishing the forest was real, so that she could run into the wilderness never to be found again.

"How was your day?" he asked, nonchalantly. God, her mouth was dry.

"Fine." She dropped her eyes.

"Will you walk with me?" he asked loosening his tie. She nodded, unable to speak. He was next to her now, in her space. He began to walk and she followed, dragging her feet. "What have you been up to all day?"


"I heard you met Alicia." He stopped walking and sat down just off the path against a tree.

"Yeah. She ran me a bath." She sat on the ground too, a few feet away from him.

"We can't really have a conversation if you're going to sit that far, now can we?" Without answering, she scooted towards him.

"Much better." They sat in silence for a moment before Michelle spoke.

"So what exactly do you want from me?" He leaned forward and lifted her chin.

"Your body." She flinched at his response.

"But..." she tried to look away, but he kept his hand on her chin. "I don't know much about sex...men wouldn't...I never really-"

"Men? Who the fuck said anything about other men?" She pulled away, startled by his outburst. He cleared his throat, composing himself. "Excuse me. Dinner is at seven thirty. You will join me." She nodded in comprehension and stood.

"I should go wash up." She walked away stiffly, unsure of what to make of everything that had happened. He seemed upset because she thought he was going to have her sleeping with other men, but what else could possibly want from her? She supposed he could want her for his own personal use, but why when he could be dating the most beautiful women in the world? Ever since childhood, she had thought of herself as plain. She knew she had a pretty smile, and was blessed with a decent figure with minimal effort, but she was short, with crazy hair and dark skin. And she had no sexual prowess whatsoever. She was awkward and goofy.

She dragged herself to the closet that wasn't hers. What was she supposed to wear? She decided to wear a loose fitting blouse and dark wide leg jeans with a pair of flats. She pinned her hair up and applied some eyeliner she found in the huge closet and some lip gloss. Precisely at seven thirty, she headed down the stairs to what she assumed was the main dining room. There were at least two that she found when she explored the house earlier, but this one seemed like it had been used more often. No one else was there, but she slid into a chair on the side of the table.

"Why did you pin your hair up?" she heard from behind her.

"I thought it would be more appropriate for dinner." She answered softly.

"It looks nice." He sat directly across from her waiting for her to look up.

"Thank you." She almost whispered. "Do I have to call you Diablo, or can I call you by your real name?"

"You can call me by my given name. I would actually prefer it." He watched her purse her lips and release them.

"What is your real name?"

"Ricardo." He replied.

"Okay." She said softly.

A butler arrived with plates of food and set them in front of them. She looked at the plate quizzically and didn't move to eat it.

"It's salmon." He informed her.

"I'm aware of what it is." She said with more attitude than she intended. "I'm allergic."

"No one told me that." He was clearly disturbed. "Would you like something else?"

"No, thank you." She said pushing the plate away from her.

"Would you like to go out?"

"No." Her response was blunt, but he had no intentions of being seen in public with this man.

"Are you always this difficult?"

"Yes. But I'm really not very hungry. Could I be excused?"

"Of course. You're a grown woman. You don't have to ask to be excused." As she rose from her chair, she fought the urge to smartly respond to the irony in the statement.

Michelle hung the clothes back in the closet and washed her face. Pacing the room, she wracked her brain to find a way out of her predicament. There had to be a way. Why couldn't she have another year so that she could finish school and start paying the money back herself? Her eyes felt sore from the pressure of the tears welling up behind her eyes. But she wouldn't cry. She refused. As soon as she calmed herself, the door to "her" room opened. It was Ricardo. God, would he ever go away?

"Yes?" she said turning towards him.

"I just came up to talk." He was moving closer to her

"Okay." She backed up until the back of her body hit the foot of the bed and winced at the slight, dull pain. He stood in front of her, intentionally making her uncomfortable. "I'm a little sleepy." Clearly, she was lying and she was horrible at it.

"Oh, really?" His finger wrapped around a few loose strands of hair.

"Yes, really." she replied pushing his hand away.

"I want you." He said bluntly, his gaze holding hers. Though she knew the bed was directly behind her, she instinctively tried to back away from him. "Now. Take your clothes off." Michelle searched his face, praying that he wasn't serious.

"Please. Wait. I..." She licked her dry lips as her heart thudded, heavy like an anvil in her chest.

"You will learn that I am not a patient man, Michelle. Let's start with your top." Taking a step back to give her enough space to move, he gestured for her to begin removing her clothes for him. Her teeth caught her bottom lip as she looked away in shame. Fortunately, autopilot took over as she grabbed the hem of her t shirt and pulled it over her head. Then, she stepped out of the yoga pants she had found in a drawer.

"I hate you." She whispered softly as she slid her panties down her chocolate legs.

"Not for long." He responded moving to touch her cheek. Again, she pushed his hand away. He sat down in a chair across the room. Still, her eyes were stuck on some unseen object across the room. His eyes scanned her body; the way her chest rose and fell, how her nipples began to tighten and pucker from the cold, how her teeth still dug into her lip. "Come to me." Slowly, she walked to him, eyes to the floor now. "Look at me. Watch me watch you while you walk." She brought her eyes up to meet his. It was so difficult, almost painful to watch his eyes drinking her in. Mostly because it wasn't the perverted old man stare she expected. There was something else to it. More like he was appreciating her form, rather than leering at it. By the time she reached him, tears were marking her cheeks. She refused to sob in front of him again, but knew it would be pointless to wipe away the tears. More would soon come to replace them. She stopped just in front of him and waited for further instructions.

"Why are you crying?" His fingertips grazed her hips and she fought the shiver the coursed through her.

"Because I hate you." She said coldly.

"So much that it drives you to tears?" He looked up and noticed that her chin was trembling. "You're a beautiful girl to have so much hate in your heart." She looked down at him incredulously and laughed, not bothering to respond. "What's funny?" he asked pulling her into his lap, holding her. Immediately, her body stiffened.

"Please," she mumbled uncomfortably in his arms, "Could you just...I just wanna....get this over with."

"Get what over with?" he questioned, stroking her thighs. He could literally see the goose bumps rising on her flesh where he had caressed her.

"Please." She repeated softly. He ignored her, inhaling the smell of her, touching the hair she had originally denied him access to, all the while, the tears still staining her face. They sat that way for a little over a minute, until her body began to shake with the sobs she was holding inside of her. Abruptly, he lifted her and carried her to the bed and laid her on top of it. Then, surprisingly, she felt tissue gently encasing her nose.

"Blow." She obeyed, blowing her nose softly into the tissue. He wiped her nose gently and brought another tissue to her nose. "Again. A little harder." Michelle sighed first, and then blew her nose into the tissue, eyes closed, too mortified to look at him. He wiped her way her tears, some of which had made their way down her neck and to her collar bone.

"Ricardo. I'm begging you." She whimpered feeling his lips on her neck. Why did having the bulk of him pressed against her feel so good? Why did she want so badly to be held, even if it was by him? She wasn't begging because she didn't want him. She was begging because she did. He needed to leave, and show mercy on her. She was so close to breaking from the loneliness that lived inside her. Even if it was purely physical, even if the situation was so fucked up, all she wanted was someone to be close to her.

The sensation of his tongue across her collar bone elicited a sigh from her she failed to bite back. His hand slipped between her thighs right after she snapped them shut. He gently bit the flesh just beneath her collarbone and it jerked her out of the sensual fog that had begun to blanket her mind. In one fluid motion he managed to position himself between her thighs, preventing her from blocking his access the slick heat between her legs.

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