Rose's Dolly Pt. 01

This story contains scenes and discussion of nonconsensual, rough, painful sex. Proceed with caution.

*

It was such a small gesture, so normal, all Kim did was tuck her hair behind her ear. But it gave Dylan a flashback.

Rose had done that; when he'd said he wanted to fuck her, Rose had tucked her hair behind her ear just like that and said, "Well, obviously." And suddenly he was back in that darkened room with her, the cruel futanari girl forcing her cock up his ass, pinching his nipples so hard and threatening to rip them off... making him cum, it shot all over her face and she just kept going, just kept-

"Hey!" Kim said, waving a hand in front of his face, "You in there? You've got that thousand yard stare."

Dylan blinked. "Yeah. Yeah sorry."

"You okay?" She seemed concerned. God, he couldn't let her think he was weak.

He did a dismissive little handwave. "Up late last night. What were you saying?"

"I was just saying, like, my friends in the Spanish classes and I sometimes all talk in Spanish to each other. And ever since I started taking that Spanish linguistics course, I've been trying really hard to practice the correct pronunciations the way they teach in the class. Like, pronouncing 'r' as a tap, or pronouncing 'd' and 't' with a tap on the teeth as opposed to the roof of the mouth. But my friends are getting annoyed with it, calling me 'pretentious'. But I'm not trying to, like, lord it over them or anything, I'm trying to practice, cause it, like, helps me remember the material if I'm actually applying it, you know?"

Dylan tisked. "People overuse the word 'pretentious'. Like, people call me pretentious all the time."

After a moment, Kim said, "Oh?"

"Yeah, but like, to my mind it isn't pretentious if you actually are smarter and do know more than them. And it sounds like you're actually using the correct pronunciation. People just hate when they notice you're better than them at something." He took a sip from his water bottle. "Like, it's all basically an economic logic when you get down to it. Even if people don't think about it in those terms they're, you know, wrong. Like, someone demonstrates that they're better than you at something, even within just a casual social space, it still diminishes the relative value of you and your skills. Your friends felt like they were pretty good at Spanish, hearing someone better at it makes them realize how much room for improvement they have, which feels bad. So people try to turn it into a faux-pas to be, you know, superior. Culture of mediocrity. Like, it's why people resent the guy who pulls a guitar out at a party so much. Like, ooh, here comes Mr. Guy With A Skill, gonna steal all the pussy from me, some dipshit who's only good at drinking all night and holding my piss in."

"Mmm," Kim nodded, seeming thoughtful. "You should take a philosophy class, I think you'd really like it."

"Pfft." Dylan did a jerking-off motion. "I don't wanna sit around philosophizing about whatever hypothetical theoretical bullshit, I want to get at the truth, the real truth."

"Well," Kim shot back, "How can you tell you're getting at the truth if you don't have, like, a philosophical framework for what truth is, or how it can be known?"

He waved a hand. "Theoretical bullshit. You know the truth by observing reality and analyzing your findings."

"Mm." Kim seemed unconvinced. "You know, I play guitar a little. I write songs even. And yeah, I always feel uncomfortable sharing it with anyone cause I don't want to be, like, a showoff."

"You see," Dylan said, "They've got you ashamed of having a skill."

"Would you want to hear one of them?" she asked eagerly.

He put a hand up. "Some other time."

She visibly wilted. "Oh, okay..."

He caught her in a hug. "Hey," he said softly, "I do wanna hear it some time, honest. But I've only got a half an hour before I get out of here and I was thinking... maybe you could show me what else you can do with those fingers, huh?"

She sighed. "I told you I'm not ready for that yet."

"What, not ready for fingers?" He gave her a kiss on the neck. "I know you want to wait a little while for real sex, but I just need a little," another kiss, "taste. C'mon, I'll make it good for you."

Kim sighed, in a way where Dylan could tell she had relented before she said, "Fine."

It's not that Dylan was afraid Kim was a futa, exactly, but he still felt some relief when she slid her pants off and he saw that she did in fact have a pussy under there. And he did make it good for her. Two fingers on her clit, rubbing back and forth, listening for the changes in her breathing, the look of desire on her face, feeling the pussy get wetter, the clit get bigger. He guided her hand down to his cock to start her stroking it.

He even got her off before his own climax. That was a first for him, he thought with satisfaction, as he watched her gasp and writhe with pleasure from the touch of his fingers. He wanted to keep rubbing her, but soon after her orgasm she went "Ah! Sensitive!" and he removed his hand. She kept stroking away at his cock, vigorously. God, he'd liked the feeling of getting her off. The old him wouldn't have bothered, the old him would've held her down and made her take his cock on their first date after finding out she wasn't willing, punish her for wasting his goddamn time, feel her wriggling and straining to get away as he held her down and fucked, fucked, fucked...

These thoughts, and her hand on his cock, were bringing him closer and closer to a climax. He looked over at her, she was making a sexy open-mouthed face at him. He moaned, "Ohhhh God, I'm gonna cum."

She blinked. "Oh, shit, well don't get it on my sheets."

"Fuck," he said, mind racing, "hand me my boxers! Quick, quick! Ohhhhhh fuck!"

For a second he thought he'd caught all his cum with the boxers, until he got up and Kim said, "Mm, little spot on the bed right there."

"Oh, fuck-" Dylan started to say.

"It's fine," she said hastily. "Probably Grace won't notice, it'll be dry by the time I go to bed and I'll just wash them tomorrow." She looked at her hand. "Oh, and a little bit got me here too. Easy to deal with," and, staring him dead in the eyes, she licked the cum off her hand.

He sighed. "That's so fucking hot baby."

"Yeah?" She looked up at him expectantly. "Hot enough for you to stay and listen to one of my songs?"

"I told you baby, I've got that group project tonight," he said. "Next time for sure though." He grabbed his jeans and started putting them on.

"What, with no underwear?" she asked, amused.

He held up his cum-covered boxers. "What else am I gonna do? Think wearing these would actually be more unhygienic, or at least more annoying."

"You could wear a pair of my panties home if you want," she said, sarcastic grin on her face.

He snorted, "What, are you trying to turn me into a fag? No way."

"Mm." She scrunched her face up. "And so what, you're just going to walk home with those in your pocket?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. Unless," and he dangled them in front of her face, "you wanted to keep them?"

She recoiled, though with a grin on her face. "Ew, why?"

"You know, masturbate with them over your face, sniffing them, thinking about me."

"Pass."

"Suit yourself," he said, and stuffed the boxers into his pocket. "Alright, gotta get going, see you soon." He went in for a last kiss, and was out the door.

As he walked back to the frat house to grab his books, he thought about how hot he'd found it to imagine forcing himself on her. God, he'd hoped he was better than that now. He felt like he'd been doing a decent job of being decent lately. For so long, he'd been so heartless, using girls as props for his self-gratification, never thinking twice about it except to masturbate to the memory later.

His perspective changed when he'd been used as a prop by someone else. A couple weeks ago, maybe even a month now, some futanari girls had invaded a party at his fraternity and taken advantage of him and a couple of his friends. The one that had gotten him, Rose... God, he'd wanted her, so tall, blonde, brilliant green eyes, amazing rack... the only flaw, at least at first, was the long straight scar down her left eye. But it was a flaw that made her approachable. He'd sidled up to her, said she'd be a ten without the scar, and when she seemed mad, he assured her she was a nine even with it. She'd seemed into him, played for hours like she was going to let him fuck her, but midway through them getting hot and heavy he'd felt her getting hard against him. Soon she was making him take her cock up his ass, made it hurt, made him cry... but also made him cum. He still couldn't forgive himself for that.

And ever since then, he felt alien among his frat brothers, couldn't be callous and exploitative in the way they were anymore, was less and less present in the social activities there. He felt gross about the person he was before. He didn't want to be a callous user anymore. He wanted human connection. He wanted a girl that he actually liked being around, someone he could feel good about himself around, and Kim was that right now. She was smart, actually thought about ideas. He dared to believe that, with enough time, he'd be able to convince her of the innate rightness of his entire worldview.

Yes, he wanted to think about Kim right now, not the violation again. He pulled his phone out and texted her: "Thinking about how good your pussy felt on my fingers."

"Lol what about my fingers on your cock," she shot back.

"Felt great! Would rather feel your pussy on my cock though," he replied.

"Well you'll have to feel it through a condom, when I'm ready," came the response.

Dylan sighed. He started typing, "First of all, I don't have any STDs. Anyway, if you were that concerned about STDs, then logically you wouldn't have licked my cum off your hand. And if you're worried about getting pregnant, you should know I'm a champion at pulling out, I've never failed at it. And I'd just really like to feel it for real, on my bare skin." He sent it.

Of course his plan wasn't to pull out. That's how sex was supposed to be, that was the natural way, you went in bare and came inside, no surprise that's what felt the best. After it was done he'd pretend it was an accident, apologize profusely, do the gentlemanly thing and offer to buy her a morning after pill. If she was still mad about it, he'd ply her with gifts and dinners until she relented.

Yes, he was trying to be nicer, but he couldn't be all nice. If studying economics had made one thing clear to him, it was that it didn't pay to be all nice; you'd never get anything you wanted and less scrupulous people would suck the life out of you. So yeah, it was underhanded, dishonest, sure.

It certainly wasn't rape though, even if some feminist would argue it was. And if Kim tried to act like it was, well, he had the "I've actually been raped" card in his pocket now. Maybe it was perverse to confess that to her just to win an argument, but honestly why the fuck else would he ever bring it up?

Walking through the frat house toward his room, he got a text from her saying, "Well I'll think about it."

"Please do," he replied.

Dylan walked into his room, tossed his keys on the bed, and turned around to see that Rose the futanari girl was in his room, at the computer desk, messing around on his laptop.

He froze. She didn't even look up. "Oh, hey Dylan," she said casually.

Dylan sputtered, "Wh-, Wha-, How di-?"

Rose still didn't look at him. "Gawd, you're really into surprise anal videos, huh? Like to watch them and reminisce about the old days, is that it?"

Dylan reached out and slammed the laptop shut. "Get off my computer! Get out of my room!"

Rose swiveled the chair to face him, cool and untroubled. "Rude," she smirked.

"How did you even get in here?" he demanded.

"Oh, the other frat boys let me in," she said, airily. "They were all looking at each other, like, 'oooh Dylan's getting some pussy tonight.' If only they knew..."

"And why, w-" He was struggling to get the words out, honestly didn't want to know the answer but still had to ask. "Why are you here?"

"What, do you think I'm here to fuck you again? Relax, I'm saving up my sexual energy for something else today. I dunno, I just found myself thinking a lot about you. Your slender body, your," she reached a hand out to pinch his cheek, "pretty boy face. I was thinking you'd be perfect to do some modeling work for me."

Dylan looked at her skeptically. "What sort of modeling work?"

"Just, you know," Rose shrugged, "Modeling some clothes I've got."

He kept probing. "And, what, will I be paid for this?"

"Nah, was thinking you'd do it, you know, gratis," she said with a wicked grin, "or else I'll release the video of me fucking you."

"Mmm," Dylan had been dreading that possibility. Play it cool, play it cool. "Tell me, are these photos you want to take of me... sexual?"

"Depends what you find sexual," said Rose.

"Would they be embarrassing?"

"Depends what you find embarrassing."

"See, you're offering me a really bad deal here," Dylan said. "Cause I have to believe this modeling thing is going to be embarrassing to me. So in order to prevent you from releasing the only piece of blackmail material you have on me, I'm going to give myself to you to generate more blackmail material. And considering that you'd have no leverage over me anymore if you released what is, again, the only thing you've got on me, I don't think you'd actually do it. So I have to say no."

Rose had started typing on her phone midway through him talking. When he was done talking she just said, casually, "Okay, just emailed the video to the entire frat."

Dylan felt a rush of panic, "No! Please!" he blurted out.

Rose shot him a smug grin. "And see, that's why you're gonna do it. I lied, I didn't send it just yet, but that reaction," she tapped him on the nose, "is why you're going to do this. Like, you're right, you probably will find this embarrassing, unless you're like," she waggled her eyebrows at him, "way cooler than I thought you were. And so yes, you'll be digging yourself deeper. But the thing is, you actually care about this video not being released, whereas I genuinely do not care. Or hey," she grinned, "maybe I'll just release a little clip, maybe the bit where you cum all over me, and then if you don't submit I'll release more clips. It's not a good deal, but when someone has you over a barrel you don't get to act in a way that benefits you."

He couldn't think of a comeback, he just stood there twitching and silently fuming.

"So, you're going to come over to my house Thursday at 6:00, ready to model, okay?"

He said nothing.

"I need to hear you say 'okay', sweetie, or I'll have no choice but to release a clip."

Through gritted teeth, he muttered, "Okay."

"Hmm, good boy," she said, pinching his cheek again. She rose to her feet. "Alright, I've gotta get out of here. Give us a kiss?"

He stood there silent, lips pressed together tightly.

She grabbed the back of his hair and pulled his face in, putting her lips over his tight mouth, running her tongue along his lips. She pulled her head back and gave him this look, a mix of lust and contempt and cruel amusement.

"Next time you're going to give me a real kiss, right?"

He just scowled at her.

Her lip curled with displeasure. She gave the back of his hair a painful yank. "You've got to say 'yes.'"

Looking at the floor, he muttered, "Yes."

She inhaled sharply, gratified. "Say, 'Yes, Mistress.'"

Eyes still fixed on the floor, "Yes, Mistress."

"Hmm, good boy." She finally released his hair. "You're a sweet little thing, really. I'll help you see that." She seemed like she was about to pull away from him when she sniffed. "Do I smell cum?"

He said nothing. Her eyes darted down to the bit of boxer sticking out of his pocket and with an "Ah!" she snatched them out of his pocket. "What did you do, jerk off in public somewhere? That's pretty pervy."

He mumbled, "Just, cleaned up with my boxers after my girlfriend jerked me off."

"Aw, Dyl's got a girlfriend. How cute." She took a sniff of the boxers. "Mmmm, you're lucky I've got something else going on tonight, cause this smell... has really got me going." Another sniff. "There's a sweet little thing over in one of the freshman dorms who's been crushing on me all year. He invited me over, but he doesn't know my secret yet. He'll find out though. The hard way." Sniff. "You don't mind if I take these, do you?"

"Ye-"

"I'm kidding, I'm gonna take them regardless. I'll be thinking about you, sweetheart." A final moment spent smirking at him, then she gave him a wave and disappeared out his door, his boxers openly clutched in her fist.

He was aware that his cock was a little bit hard. Goddammit. Goddammit, how the fuck could he still be attracted to her? He punched his pillow a few times before flopping aggressively down onto his bed to sulk.

Whatever Rose was planning, he knew he wanted no part of it. But he really, really didn't want that clip to get out, didn't want the other brothers to see, sure as fuck didn't want Kim to see. So he dutifully showed up at Rose's house at 5:55 on Thursday. He texted Rose, "I've arrived." He looked at the sign by the door saying "Sodom House". He scoffed to himself. Degenerates.

Rose swung the door open, eyes burning, an ominous smile on her face. "Hey, there's the girl!"

He was thrown by that. Stupidly, he looked behind him to check that there wasn't a girl behind him. No, she was talking to him. He turned back around to look at her reproachfully. "Um, what?"

"C'mon, we're going up to the third floor to do this," she said, and grabbed his hand to lead him up the stairs. "Boy, you got here early huh? Couldn't wait to see me again, huh?"

"Just trying to keep my end of the deal," he said flatly. "Not trying to give you any reason to release the video."

"Yeah yeah, I'm sure." God, she sounded so smug. They passed the second floor. "I've been thinking a lot about what girl name to use for you. Dylana? Doreen? I guess Dylan can already be a girl's name, but I want to put a girlier twist on your name."

"Why the fuck," he said, winded from going up stairs so fast, "would you give me a girl's name?"

"Cause you're going to be modeling some girly clothes for me," Rose said. She looked back and gave him a smirk.

"What? You didn't tell me that!" He struggled against her hand now, but of course she was stronger than him, she held on tight and he couldn't get away.

"I thought it was implied," she said smugly. "I said some clothes that I own. Do you think I own a lot of guy clothes?"

"I... I will not! This changes things," he sputtered.

"Oh shit really? Cause I'm pretty sure I still have the video you don't want getting out. Soooo I actually don't think this changes anything." She looked him over, malicious grin on her face. "You're going to do what I say, right?"

God, he was thrown by this, resentful. He glared at her, but after a moment he said, "Yes I will."

"Hmm," she purred with satisfaction. "Good girl," and she kissed him on the forehead.

"Stop calling me a girl," he grumbled.

"No," she replied.

At the top of the stairs she threw him into her room. He looked around it nervously. No furniture besides a mattress on the floor and a wooden chair. Walls covered with posters. A shelf full of paddles.

"Strip," came Rose's voice behind him. He nodded, got to work taking off his t-shirt, jeans... "Your underwear too," she said.

He looked over at her. "You're going to fuck me again aren't you?"

She smirked at him, arms crossed in front of her. "What makes you say that?"

"Why else would you want me to take my underwear off?"