Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 01

"One of the men bent his head down and whispered into my ear a long litany of what he wanted to do to my body, and in the end my legs went weak and he had to sit me down in a chair. He left me and cut on Andrei, who in turn came and talked with me until I could dance again, but then he cast me off to another man. The men openly praised my body in explicit ways – talking about the curve of my thighs, the hardness of my nipples, the fullness of my hair, the redness of my lips, and the hunger they saw in my eyes. I was so achingly aware of my body, and every touch of a hand made me tingle.

"It was eleven thirty when the bell rang for the last time, which meant we'd only have ten minutes between the end of the play period and midnight. The man I was with at that moment had a name I'd heard before, even in my ignorance of politics. He was very straightforward with me, he knew I'd refuse nothing anymore – the bell rang, and he tore the bra and panties from me, forbid me to touch him with my hands, and made me mouth the front of his pants. I could smell and feel my own wetness. Then he took it out, took me by the hair and made me kiss and lick it. Other girls got similar treatment and that made me insane with need. When I tried to suck it he had to pull me back by the hair to stop me. Then, slowly, he lowered his body to a kneel, running his massive, hard damp-tipped cock down between my breasts, over my belly, and then between my thighs. He didn't penetrate, but the upward pressure and gentle rocking nearly made me come without it. My wetness got all over him, and the thought that I was making him slippery so he could pound into some other woman was impossibly hot. I wanted to watch it happen. I looked at the women around me, as much as the men, and imagined what would soon happen to them, in private rooms in the palace. But he did not let me daydream. He kissed me urgently, frantically, while denying me the right to kiss back, and touched me everywhere. Somewhere I heard a girl sobbing in need, and then another. The sound of susurrate pleading from women and soft growling from the men is not something I have words for. I no longer cared which man took me, as long as it was brutal and relentless and I could come over and over.

When the bell rang, at ten minutes to midnight, the men went off to a separate room. Maybe they were trading papers? I still don't know. The girls just waited, I can't say patiently but at least silently. We had no use for each other; we only wanted men.

They returned, streaming around us, and I realized in the melee that the colored paper marker I'd come in with had been lost in the clothing changes. I quickly found my discarded dress and pinned my red triangle into my hair. It didn't matter to me that I was begging to be claimed by doing this. I only wondered, would my date be one of the three men who had toyed with me? Or someone new? I could understand either answer. A man might want to spend time with a girl before getting her alone – or he might want to sample as many wares as possible, toying with three girls and then claiming a fourth.

The clock chimed midnight, and the lights simultaneously dimmed. Suddenly there was a hand in my hair, and I was lead to a couch. With a dull shock I realized, I would not be taken to a private place after all. I turned enough to see who had me – it was the first man I'd been with. His smile was a thing of evil, but I wanted that evil. In a certain mood there is nothing better than a man who demands things, even shameful things... I wanted to be taken. Not loved. Not coddled. Not teased. I wanted to be used as a merciless man uses a woman. After I came I'd be sane again and I could consider questions like whether this man was even someone I wanted to know better, but now that did not matter. For now I curled onto the couch, past even being shocked by my own willingness. We were such opposites. I was naked; he was still fully clothed. I was curled, almost prone, he was standing. I was shaking, he was supremely exultant. I had already submitted; he was ruthlessly dominant. But the lust in our eyes was a match.

"'How?' I whispered.

"'From behind," he snarled. I'd never done that before, but I knelt down over the couch, offering myself. Shame was gone. I'd known how it would end from before I'd come here, even if I hadn't completely admitted it to myself. His hands stroked my back, and then tightened on my hips. My body tensed and I arched, looking back at him over my shoulder. He had already taken it out. Thick, hard, ready. Nearby another woman was gasping as she was taken, that special sound that says Yes, Again, More. In front of me, across the room, Andrei was tying a blonde to something; she was whispering to him frantically, probably begging him to hurry. I remember whispering 'folos eu tare' – Use me hard - and then feeling... you know. The best thing, the only thing there can be in that moment, the feeling of being opened, and then the uncontrollable urge to move and writhe and please.

"He was rough; it was overwhelming. I only felt, I couldn't think. Being taken from behind is so... I've been taken in every way possible, but that is still the position that makes me a total slut. I was not very experienced but with a man in that state there is not much you have to know. All the girls were the same, frantic to be pleasing, to hold the attention of the man who had us, terrified they'd find someone else more pleasing to the eye or that we'd be found too incompetent to bother with. I moved to excite him, as best I knew... I know much more now. And then he grabbed my hair so tight it hurt, and pounded me faster. I came helplessly, frantically trying to stop so I could focus on pleasing him, but I could not control my orgasm, and he just took snarled and growled. I came again, harder, and then he did, and his sounds... so many men and women, all the orgasms, all I could think of was fireworks going off.

"Afterwards he held me down on the couch and used his fingers, while biting my ear. I came again. He was enjoying making me respond. Then suddenly a woman was bent over the back of the couch I was sprawled on, her hair spilling over my belly. Andrei was behind her and he fucked her, as my date forced me to watch, and fingered me. Andrei looked into my eyes as he pounded into her, and when she came, so did I, harder than I knew I could. Then Andrei made his girl lick his cock clean while my date walked my still shaking, panting body upstairs to a room.

"In the room he poured a shot of something strong down my throat, lay me across the bed on my belly and took me from behind again. There was a mirror in front of me... he told me to keep my head up and look at him and try to be pleasing. He wasn't rough this time, and eventually he came, even though I think I wasn't very good. Afterwards I was dizzy from the shock of everything, and the drink... he curled me against him and I fell asleep quickly, too shy to nuzzle against him.

"When I woke he was gone. I was thankful for that. A woman came in, a servant, and gave me an immense breakfast. On the tray was an envelope and I asked her what it was.

"'The naiv fată doesn't know? The men who liked you... those are their names and a way to contact them. You can contact them or not, that much is up to you. There might be no names in it, or several. You are very pretty and I'm sure there will be at least one, but eat first.'

"I couldn't eat until I opened it. There were two names, Andrei's and the man at the third bell. Not the man I'd slept with but I didn't mind so much. The servant smiled. 'Two names for your first visit is very good. You will be back here I think. Now eat, and then a bath and then you are sent home. Tell the driver where to leave you off. You must never speak of anything that happened. They would be very angry and these are men who can do things when they get angry. Never a word even to your best friends.'"

She fell silent. I was stunned by this little tale, and carefully not dwelling on my own arousal. "And you contacted Andrei?"

She looked down. "I contacted both. These are not people you insult. The other man and I met once, for sex. There was no, what is the funny word, chemistry. Andrei, though... began a relationship with me. I was not his only girl – you have seen him, he can have who he likes. But he made the trip to see me once or sometimes twice a week and he proved he could be very charming. My girlfriends were so jealous, and still are." She smiled a little, and sipped a little water, still looking down.

"Sy," I said. "You had a wild experience. But it's ok, you know? But every girl is wild once."

"Once, you think it happened once? It was only the beginning. Parties happened every four to six weeks. I was invited to almost all of them. Andrei was almost always there, and he often arranged to spend a bell with me, as we say, but he only one other time managed to have me at midnight. It didn't matter, because he saw me at other times and he was training me to be very... accommodating to his wishes."

"Training you." The cold shiver down the back was back. "How?"

"Pleasure and pain, how it is always done. Orgasms, denied orgasms, spankings and face slapping, skipping meals, rich desserts, backrubs, little gifts... once he left me tied in his bed all night and I had to watch him with two other girls. I cried for a week after that. It turns out that there is no difference between training an animal and training a woman. Never trust a man who can tame animals to his hand. He will do the same with you. Andrei is very good with horses, and strange dogs crawl to him on their belly if he calls them. As do I."

"You crawl to him," I said, blankly.

"Yes, when he asks or if I want sex. To beg to be taken, I take off my clothing, put on lingerie, and crawl to him and kiss his shoes. The smell of leather is now erotic to me."

"And... he has other girls," I said, horrified.

"No, just me, now. Oh, at the parties I know he takes girls, they all do. It's somehow strangely comforting to know he only cheats on me – I can't even call it that because it is no secret – at those parties."

I couldn't stand it. "Sy, you're in an abusive relationship."

"I don't think so. I feel shame but only because I know other people could never understand. The last time me made love to me I had six orgasms in a row and I nearly passed out. He owns my sexuality in a way you can't imagine and that's not something an abuser can ever get. But I don't expect you to understand. Meh, give me a second... I have to pee. It's ok, I think I can sit up now."

She tried, and couldn't. I helped her up, and then gave her privacy.

I sat on the bed, thinking. I had my own whirlwind of emotions now. Shock and arousal. Yeah, arousal. The images she'd planted in my head were vivid and much more erotic than I'd have guessed. But the shock was definitely in there. As a lesson to prove that you can live with someone and never know them this had no equal.

She'd danced with many men, mostly naked, and then been toyed with... ok, I've seen things like that at raves a few times, but the girls were flying on drugs and anyway, they had a choice. This sounded, if not exactly non-consensual, then... that kind of male insistance that was a staple of all the trashy romance novels that always had my hand in my panties by page fifty. And, having seen Andrei... all that arrogance, unleashed on Sy's willing nature. The little video I played in my mind of the two of them was so hot I was licking my lips, until I remembered that Sy was still in bad shape and probably shouldn't be alone long. With an effort I pulled my imagination away from her being bent over and spanked, roughly, angrily...

"Sy, you ok?"

A flushing noise. "Yes, just very... dizzy... ow!" I heard her stumble and I pushed in, catching her before she pulled the shower rod down on herself. She clung to me for a second and then sank back down to the floor. "It comes and goes in waves," she said. "How long will it be like this?"

"Could be hours. A lot of vodka for your first time... ok, I already called you an idiot so I won't go on and on about it but you're going to have a rough evening. Just drink water until you can manage fruit juice and then drink that. You want to be throwing up and peeing a lot and then drinking more water."

"Why do people even do this? This is such misery."

"Learn your limits. You had... I'm guessing about seven ounces of vodka plus maybe three of the lemon punch, which is probably at least another ounce of gin... call it eight ounces of 100 proof. At least. What do you weigh?"

"Not nice to ask."

"Sy..."

"One thirty one."

I flicked my phone on and did a search. "Yeah, you're lucky you didn't completely pass out. Good thing you started vomiting when you did."

"But how long?"

"Will you stay wasted? Could be a few hours, could be until morning. Depends on a lot of things, there's no good way to tell."

"That's bad. Andrei will call again, midnight our time."

"Don't answer."

"Not allowed."

"This is nuts," I snapped. "This is America. You're not required to answer phones."

"I don't think you'll ever understand my relationship," she said.

"I suppose I won't. And it's not my place to. But you're clearly not happy if you are getting wasted alone because you're that upset."

"This is the first time this has happened and I've known him for over two years. He's usually considerate."

"Making you crawl for sex isn't considerate. Ok, look, I'm sorry. You feel like shit and this is not the time for this conversation. You like him. I'm not dumb enough to try to talk you out of that."

"You want to."

"Sure. You could have just about any guy on this campus. Ok they aren't nobility or whatever but they'll be polite and open doors for you."

"Open doors for me? Servants you can rent anywhere. I prefer men."

I lost it. "What century are you from?! No one crawls for men, no one! It's degrading! It's demeaning!"

"Eh. I'm too drunk to argue with you. Help me get sober."

"There's nothing you can do to get sober except drink fluids and wait. You could try to sleep, I'll keep an eye on you and make sure you don't choke in your sleep. Just drink two glasses of water before you lie down."

She nodded unsteadily, drank the water, clutched her stomach, but held it down. I helped her stagger into her bed, left her door open, and did some studying from where I could see her.

Except I couldn't. I was angry. A pretty and smart girl like her, crawling to some jerk of a guy. And that got her off? I liked the fact that guys opened doors for me. My last three boyfriends had all been perfect gentlemen. They'd been good relationships, I didn't really know why I'd let them drift away...

She had six orgasms the last time she was with Andrei. How was that even physically possible? I was a one and done sort of girl. So, ok, he was good in bed. That wouldn't remotely make up for the emotional abuse. I mean John had stayed up with me all night when I'd failed a midterm, how sweet was that? He'd cared so much.

I shook my head, because it was suddenly easy to imagine Andrei in that room with her, pushing her legs apart, demanding to be served even though she was drunk...

That mental image had me in flames in seconds. What the fuck, that was depraved!

I held out for five minutes, and then suddenly I was on my bed, masturbating. I got very close to orgasm very quickly, but with a huge effort I stopped myself. I'd been turned on since her description of the party, I mean fuck, it was very hot... but it was still fucked up. I didn't want to get off to that. Bad!

Still panting, I looked in on Sy again. She appeared to be asleep.

I wondered how John was doing. He'd found another girl eventually. She wasn't very pretty and she was kind of loud, hell, even John should have been able to do better than that...

Even John? I'd liked John. Hadn't I?

I had. But I'd been bored. He'd spent money on me, talked to me when I was sad, let me cry on his shoulder, done everything right... so why had he meant nothing to me?

Sy clearly worshipped Andrei; I'd forgotten John was there, he'd become furniture...

So that was it? Women needed assholes and didn't like nice men? I mean I'd seen it in girlfriends, and somehow I hadn't noticed I was living in the same pattern. Nice boys... nice, boring boys... doing what I asked, thankful for sex. Letting me say no when I wasn't in the mood. Asking me what I wanted, all the fucking time...

Sy coughed, and I practically teleported to her room to make sure she was ok. Her eyes opened, and she winced.

"You ok?"

"I feel like shit still. How long was I asleep?"

"Maybe thirty minutes."

She dragged the pillow over her head and moaned.

"Sy... tell me about Andrei, after you met at the party."

"No. You judge too much."

"I'm sorry. I won't. I'm... curious."

Her head came out from under the pillow, and she looked at me blearily. After a long moment, she held her hand out to me and I pulled her up into a sitting position. She drew a deep breath. "No more judging?"

"I'll try."

"Help me get to the bathroom, and then make me something very, very gentle to eat. Eggs."

She was being oddly bossy, but I nodded. I was asking a favor and she wanted one back. I helped her over to her new best friend, Clay Flushmore, and scrambled some eggs, not listening to the vomiting.

She walked into the kitchen under her own power, though with a hand on the wall, and sat. "Never again with the vodka. I promised that, right?"

I nodded, and slid a plate of eggs next to her. She looked at it, looked away, but then forced herself to take a bite. It stayed down and she gave a tentative smile. "Thank you."

"Tell me about Andrei."

"Classy... I will try but you have to put aside everything you believe about men and women. I have... this is going to sound awful. I've seen your last two boyfriends. They were lapdogs, kind, obedient, so eager to please. But it's better to be eager to please a man, much better. It gets our minds off ourselves, where they were never meant to stay. When Andrei is with me he is totally focused on me, and I am on him, the intensity is something I have no words for you. If you stepped between him and I, he would swat you aside like a bug. I know because it has happened. He makes me his and I get to know that I am his. Holding a door open for a girl doesn't say that. Taking me by the hair and requiring that I kneel to him so he can feel the pleasure of my mouth, that is when I know I am his. I am claimed. He demands things of me and what I feel is an ache to yield to those demands because I want to be claimed fully. He demands I be what I know myself to be – yielding, giving, generous, eager to please. I become myself when I am with him because he gives me the strength to tear off the veil of self-sufficiency and self-determination and just let me myself, a small, beautiful, willing, offering of pleasure. You can't imagine the peace I feel when I sate him, the happiness when I make him laugh."

"What I can't imagine is the six orgasms you have," I said, and then I blushed horribly, utterly shocked I'd said that.

"Three is more common," she said, primly. "Usually by then he comes and then he is done. These men in fantasy stories that want it every hour for days at a time, how horrible that would be. You'd never felt like you did a good enough job... Nothing is sweeter than a man on the edge of sleep after being sated. But sometimes he is more about my orgasms than his own, and when he is... playful like that... and oh, he knows how to be playful. He can make my begging turn to screams. He knows me inside and out. Every secret known, because he demands to know. Do you see? He doesn't let me hide anything, so I have to be myself with him, completely myself."