tagNonConsent/ReluctanceThe First Hunt Pt. 01

The First Hunt Pt. 01

byTheMeltyMan©

A joke via text. That was how it had started out.

I think I need to step back more. It wasn't just a text; it was something that'd been going on for the past six months. My old friend Eliza and I had been growing apart a little, ever since winter break in senior year. I didn't know what prompted it. How I had started dressing more like a punk singer ever since she got me that Twisted Titty CD, perhaps, or maybe it was her new boyfriend, that lanky clown Joe Corrente.

Either way, when she suddenly suggested another sleepover at the Zveroby House, I was all too happy to agree.

Yeah, you're probably wondering why we would consider sleeping over at the abandoned home of some crazy poet from Russia to be 'fun', but that was just something we did. I was always big on frights. If there was a new horror movie at the theater, or some haunted carnival in town, you'd bet that I'd be there, right at the front of the line.

I should've been suspicions when she asked me to do it that night, but I was just too happy at the prospect of spending quality time with my friend again. I didn't bother to change; I simply grabbed my pajamas, a sleeping bag, and a swiss army knife I'd gotten from my dad before he passed.

I only paused to check myself in the mirror I had on my room. I wasn't some blonde bombshell on legs, but I was still pleased with my appearance. Raven hair pulled into pigtails, a nice angular face, and I my black shirt and skirt complimented my thin form. I was still uncomfortable with my chest size, especially when I went to buy new bras, but at least it wasn't as bad as poor Jessica, who had to get surgery when she was seventeen due to the back pain.

I bounded down the stairs, only pausing to tell my mother that I was heading out, to which she simply responded with a grunt as she continued watching the tv. I pursed my lips at that, but it didn't stop me from leaving the house in a rush.

As I stepped out into the late afternoon sun, I could feel a stillness in the air. Even as the sun warmed my face, I could see dark clouds in the distance, promising thunder. I suddenly understood why Eliza was so keen on doing the sleepover tonight; the weather was perfect. It made me think of all the other times we'd spent in the house, listening to the thunder as we played games and told each other scary stories.

The weather started getting worse as I walked to the Zverogy House, and by the time I finally arrived at the rusted gate, the sky had turned the color of coal. I simply spent a few moments there, soaking it in. The mighty pine trees that ringed they yard swayed and rustled in the wind that had come with the clouds, and the dark, peeling walls of the Edwardian-style house before me perfectly complimented the weather.

Smiling to myself, I practically skipped up the beaten cobblestone path, and pulled out my Swiss army knife. Picking the tarnished lock was child's play, and the door slowly creaked open, revealing a desolate living room. Out in a desert town like my home, dust didn't collect easily, and so my sinus were unassailed as I hopped inside and shut the door behind me.

Considering the lack of light in the house, I knew Eliza hadn't arrived yet, but I didn't worry. She always arrived late. Instead, I simply made my way over to the hall in the middle of the house, the one with the portraits of some Russian artists whose names escaped me. Unfurling my sleeping bag, I set it down on the hardwood floor, then began changing into my bed clothes. Nothing fancy; just a black t-shirt and my pajama bottoms.

Sitting down in a lotus position on the sleeping bag, I pulled out my phone and opened my messaging app.

Where r u?

Almost there came the reply.

I frowned, then flopped down on the sleeping bag, arms spread wide. The cavernous ceiling loomed over me, and I could see a few motes of dust floating freely in the air, following chaotic paths. A distant rumble of thunder reached my ears, sending a pleasant shiver up my spine, and I closed my eyes.

I probably stayed there for a good ten minutes before a faint sound reached my ears, something that definitely wasn't from the weather. I sat back up, then grabbed my phone and turned on the flashlight, sweeping the beam across the hall.

Nothing.

I laid back down, then jumped when my phone buzzed. I opened the app, hoping it was Eliza, but it was just my mom telling me that she was going in for a late shift. Sighing, I decided to stand up and stretch my legs.

My phone buzzed again, and I was excited to see it was Eliza. That excitement faded rather quickly, however, when I saw the message.

Take off your shirt for me again, baby.

My eyes widened.

What? I replied. L, what's up?

No answer.

Biting my lip, I turned on my phone's flashlight and looked around again, listening for any more suspicious noises. Every shadow, every odd nook or cranny, had become a place that dark thoughts lurked in.

"Liz?" I called out, slowly tip-toeing through the hallway. "You there?"

There was a clap of thunder, far closer than before, and I jolted. Rain began to patter against the grimy windows, and I realized that it'd be a lot harder to listen in for anything moving around.

I decided to move down the hall, towards the back door; Liz sometimes came through there, especially if she was in a pranking mood. Yet the dust on the door was undisturbed when I shone my light on it, and I felt a chill across my back.

"This is pretty lame so far," I said aloud. "C'mon, Liz. You gonna pop out of the closet or something?"

To prove my point, I crept towards the other side of the house, where the old dining room was. The pantry door faced me, and I noticed some marks in the dust. Grinning despite my jitters, I slowly grasped the doorknob, and swung it open.

Empty.

My phone chose that time to buzz again, and I looked down at the message.

Got you.

I didn't have time to register it before a muscular arm wrapped around my neck, pulling me flush against a solid torso. I choked and wheezed, clutching uselessly at the arm as it pressed tighter against my throat.

"Hello, Katya," a breathy voice said in my ear. His other hand snaked up my torso, and I winched as he roughly grabbed my breast through the fabric of my shirt and bra. "Oooh, nice and ripe."

I could practically feel my pupils shrink in terror as I felt something hard poke at my backside, trying to snake between my cheeks.

Oh god, I thought. Oh god, oh god oh god.

His hand let go of my breast, then went to grab at the hem of my shirt, and I suddenly realized my right arm was now free. Without any hesitation, I curled my hand into a fist and swung right into his groin as hard as I could.

The man grunted in pain, and the grip around my throat relaxed as he stumbled back. I rushed forward, only to stop again as his hand found my collar, and I was forced to slip out in order to get free. I dashed back into the hall and ran to the front door, twisting the handle, but there was no give, even as I put my weight into it.

I shoved against it again, then stopped when I heard movement in the dining room again. The man was recovering from my lucky escape. I decided to dash upstairs, then paused as I considered what room to hide in. I went inside the main bedroom, creating a set of tracks in the dust, then stepped out and made for the smaller guest room. It was a place I had hidden in before, when I was younger.

It was just in time. As soon as I disappeared into one of the closets, I heard heavy footsteps rising up the stairs. I pressed as far back into the wall as possible, heart pounding in my chest, and slowly reached for my Swiss army knife. Briefly, I considered calling 911, but even that could give me away.

"Katya," the voice cooed. "Where are you hiding?"

Even through the rain that pounded over the roof, I heard the floorboards creak as he followed the tracks into the main bedroom. If I stayed where I was, he was going to find me; I needed to change tactics.

Carefully, I began to pull the blade out from my Swiss army knife, then slowly, slowly, pushed the door open. The man was still in the main bedroom, accompanied by the sounds of breaking glass and creaking wood as he tore it apart. I glanced at the windows, and was not surprised to see that they had been bolted shut. So much for getting out that way.

I thought to the basement. There was a set of cellar doors there, meant to get people inside from the lawn in case of a really bad storm. Perhaps that was the key to escape.

Knife in hand, I tip-toed closer to the door of the guest bedroom, and took a deep breath. Then, I bolted for the stairs.

I was three steps down when I felt a hand reach for my hair, and I slashed backwards with the knife, hitting something fleshy. I was rewarded with a yelp of pain, though I also ended up dropping the knife in the process.

No looking back. I practically leapt down the stairs, slamming into the door, then frantically dashed for the basement. Above me, I heard the man writhing about, but he wasn't following.

Yet, anyway.

I flung the door to the basement open, then dashed inside...

...and stopped.

The cellar had transformed. Once, it had been completely barren, with only a few empty boxes on the ground here and there. Now, however, I could see a plush mattress on the ground, surrounded by a quartet of metal stakes at the corners, and there were lit candles all about, flickering the dark.

What was most disturbing, however, were all the photos of me plastered over the walls.

That mistake cost me. I didn't hear him coming until a damp rag was suddenly slapped over my mouth, and I fell into blackness.

When I woke up, I was lying on the mattress, looking at the ceiling. I was still clad in my bra, but my pajama bottoms were nowhere be seen.

Groggily, I tried to move, only to realize that my hands and legs were bound spread-eagle to the stakes. It all came back at once, and I felt beads of sweat begin to trickle down my pale skin. I began to frantically yank at the stakes, but they refused to budge.

"There we are," a voice said.

I looked over to see the man standing by my feet, looming over me. He was an older man, maybe in his late forties with salt-and-pepper hair. Despite being tall, he was not lanky, with quite a bit of muscle on him. He was also completely naked, and I felt a pang of nausea when I saw that his massive cock was standing at full attention, hideously veined.

What was most shocking, however, was that I recognized him. This was my dad's friend.

"Jason?" I said.

"Ah, so you remember me, huh?" He smirked, then took a step closer. "It's been what, a year?"

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, my voice practically a whine.

"Why wouldn't I?" he replied, kneeling down. He ran his hands over my legs, stroking them gently. "I've been eyeing you since you were sixteen, when I saw you in that green bikini. That was a beginning of something new, for me. My, how you'd grown. Beautiful."

"You don't have to do this," I managed to choke out, acid at the back of my throat, tears in my eyes. "Please."

"I don't have to do anything," he retorted. "I don't have to tie you up like this. I don't have to peel off that underwear and fuck you like I've been dreaming of."

His hands trailed higher, until they began to cup my bra-clad breasts. I writhed under him, trying to buck him off.

"But I sure as hell want to," he said.

Then, he ripped my bra off, and I could feel his eyes on my rosy pink nipples. He leaned forward, and I felt his hard cock on my stomach as he cupped my face and locked eyes with me. My breasts pressed against his chest, and I couldn't ignore the pulse against my navel.

"I'm going to enjoy this," he said. "Try and have some fun, too."

With that, he kissed me, pressing his lips to mine. I tried to move my face from his, but did nothing else, out of fear of what he'd do if I resisted too much. It was why I let him part my lips with his tongue, even as he began to deeply French me, his tongue sliding against mine.

Breaking the kiss, he began to trail down again, his hardness sliding over my belly as he focused on my breasts again.

"God, these are perfect," he said, putting both hands on my breasts, kneading them roughly. "Just the right size for all sorts of fun."

He bent down and took my nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. I closed my eyes as he sucked on it, a shudder running down my body as it betrayed me. He then moved to my other breast, gently biting it as he slobbered all over my chest. It was the first time anyone had ever played with them, and I became uncomfortably aware of a sudden dampness between my legs.

Finally, he slid down so that he was kneeling between my legs, and he harshly ripped my underwear off, only pausing to sniff it before he tossed away. My femininity was exposed to him, and I felt fresh tears rolling as I realized there was nothing to stop what was going to happen next.

He undid my legs, hoisting them over his shoulders as he ran the tip of his cock up and down my slit. I shuddered at the touch of his sex against mine, but I was powerless to stop it.

He winked at me. "You ready, princess?"

I stared at him blankly, desperately trying to imagine I was somewhere else.

"I thought so."

Slowly, but surely, his cock began to press past my nether lips, and I began to wail. Jason, on the other hand, had a look of pure delight on his face as he pressed forward, pushing past my hymen without tearing it. Finally, he hilted inside of me, and I realized I could feel his pulse against my walls, only adding to the strange sense of fullness I had.

I looked to the side, desperately trying to pretend that I wasn't in this house, that my first time was a rape at the hands of my father's old friend, that I couldn't feel his hard cock inside of me.

"Christ," he moaned. "You are tight."

Slowly, he began to pull out of me, and I could feel my cunt lips rolling against every bump and vein, until he was very nearly out. Then, he pushed back in, quicker this time, and began to fuck me in earnest.

"Eyes on me," he growled, rocking my body with a hard thrust. "I can always do worse."

I obliged him, looking into his cruel eyes as he continued to fuck me.

"I wonder how your daddy would feel, knowing that his old friend is fucking his daughter," he said, never wavering in his tempo. "Knowing that I'm gonna you up with my cum."

He slowed down, rocking me with agonizingly slow, hard strokes. I felt a heat come to my navel, and desperately tried to fight it down as he had his way with me.

"I'm the only one filling you up, too," he said. "I know I was your first, and your only."

He picked up his speed, and the heat in my navel spread, tingling under my skin.

"The only dick you know is this one. It's the only dick you'll know. Know why? It's because I own you. Even when I let you go, and the game starts again, you'll belong to me. I wonder if, deep down, you'll need me in you."

I began to pant as he slowed down again, letting himself rub against my walls. I could feel his pulse pounding within me, and the heat only got worse with each beat. I began to moan, ever so softly.

"You are mine."

The heat spilled over, and I cried out as I clenched around him, shuddering. He groaned too, and leaned forward until his chest met with mine, until my heels were practically on each side of my head. He grinned against me, moving in tiny little thrusts that only made the sensation stronger. He kissed me again, then pulled back, and suddenly began thrusting into me like an animal, without any of the previous rhythm.

The mattress shook with each thrust, and I could feel him hammering away at my core for what felt like hours, though it was probably only ten minutes. All the while, it felt as though his cock was getting bigger, straining inside of me.

It didn't take a genius to figure what was gonna happen next.

"No.." I whined. "Don't... not inside..."

He hilted inside of me, farther than before, and I felt his cock swell. Then lava flooded inside of me, spattering against my core with pulse after sloppy pulse, and I closed my eyes, tears rolling down. I could practically feel his load hit my womb.

He half-heartedly thrust against me a few more times, then slowly, slowly, pulled away. He was half-soft when he finally pulled out, his shining cock slapping against my inner thigh, smearing our juices over my pale skin.

"This is the first time I've seen my load dribbling out of you," he said. "But it won't be the last."

I had no time to respond before he reached for a bottle, and I felt the rag on my face again.

When I came to, I was back in my bed, wearing lacy underwear that wasn't mine. Bolting upright, I sat up, half-expecting for him to be there. But he wasn't.

The rain was still pattering against the windows, and I hung my head in my hands. I wanted nothing more than to hop into the shower and wash the night away.

As I got up, however, I noticed a piece of paper on my bed. With trembling hands, I picked it up and read it.

I'll be back.

End of Part One

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byTheMeltyMan© 4 comments/ 17170 views/ 15 favorites

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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous04/16/18

Great sotey

But why not go to the cops, especially since he told her he would be back?

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by Anonymous04/16/18

What is everyone talking about?

Uh, guys, y’all know that hymens don’t necessarily tear during sex, right?

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by Anonymous04/16/18

Hymens

Anon, this isn't the place for basic sex ed. 20 minutes googling "hymen" will tell you everything you ever wanted to know about the hymen.

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by Anonymous04/16/18

Confused

How does one slide past a hymen ?

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