The Ritual

Tears run down my face as he rips my shorts down my legs along with my underwear. Then he’s shoving my legs apart. I cry out when his hand touches my pussy.

“Ahh, you’re wet,” he says in surprise.

I sob, my body shaking.

“You like being taken, don’t you, you little slut.” He grips my hair and leans down. “Don’t worry, looks like you’ll get to finish after all.”

I sit straight up, gasping for air in the darkness. Reaching over, I knock a few things to the floor to find a light. When I press a button, the room lights up, and I see I’m at home in my apartment, naked in my bed. Alone.

“Not again.” I breathe. Leaning forward, I drop my face in my hands and try to calm my breathing. I look at my cell, and it says it’s a little after three in the morning. How did I get home? The club … drinking with Sarah … Ryat. He showed up. Must have brought me home and dropped me off.

Lying down on my back, I stare up at the ceiling. My mouth is dry and tastes like lingering alcohol. Throwing off my covers, I get out of bed on shaky legs and open my bedroom door. Stepping out, I come to a stop when I see Ryat sitting on my couch, his cell in his hands and staring straight at me.

“Ryat?” I squeal, taking a step back. “You, uh… what are you doing here?” I stumble over my words, still trying to catch my breath.

His eyes drop to my hard nipples, and I cross my arms over my chest. They lower to my legs, and I cross them as well, leaning up against the doorframe to my bedroom for support. “What were you doing?” he counters, arching a brow.

“Nothing.” I shrug carelessly, but his eyes run up and over my body, and I can tell by the look in them, he knows I’m full of shit. I bite my lip to keep from whimpering. Not again. This can’t be happening again.

“You were doing something.” He stands, pocketing his phone, and walks over to me.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Sleeping.” Not a total lie. I literally just woke up like this.

Coming to a stop in front of me, he orders, “Open my legs.”

If I know anything about Ryat, it’s that he’ll get what he wants. No matter what. I push off the wall and uncross my shaking legs for him as humiliation washes over me.

RYAT

SHE PRACTICALLY RAN out of her room, breathing heavily, nipples hard, legs shaking. She looked like she just got herself off. And she was surprised to see I was still here. She knows she’s not allowed to do that.

Dropping her head, she closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. She looks almost ashamed. I place my hand on the inside of her thigh. She flinches but doesn’t pull away. I run my hand up between her legs and cup her pussy, sliding my middle finger between her lips. She’s fucking soaked. “Did you touch yourself?” I ask. I’d actually love to watch her get herself off.

She shakes her head, eyes still on the floor.

“You’re awfully wet for someone who was just sleeping.”

She remains silent.

“Tell me,” I say, spreading her pussy wide and pushing a finger into her, seeing just how turned on she is.

“I had a dream,” she whispers.

“And?”

“And nothing. It was just a dream,” she answers vaguely.

“It was something.” I slide a second finger into her, and she whimpers. “Tell me about it.”

I gently play with her clit, just trying to relax her. The woman is already worked up. No foreplay is needed at this point. “I was running through the woods.” She swallows. “Well, jogging on a trail. And someone was following me.”

“Yeah?” I remove my fingers and slide my hand up over my stomach and chest, smearing herself on her skin. I undo her arms crossed over her chest and start playing with her nipple.

“He …” Moaning, she stops herself.

“What about him?” I ask, telling myself not to get jealous. It was just a dream. “What did he do?”

She’s silent for a long second before whispering, “He knocked me down, tied my hands behind my back, and dragged me off the trail.” Pausing again, she takes in a shaky breath. “And …”

“And what?” I lean in and kiss her neck, tasting the salt from her sweat. Pulling back, I lick my lips for another taste.

“And he fucks me,” she whispers.

“You mean he rapes you,” I correct her.

She whimpers and places her hands over her face.

“Hey.” I grab her arms and pull her hands away. Shaking her head, she drops her face to stare at the floor. I grip her chin and force her to look at me. “Don’t be ashamed, Blake.” I’ve never been one to kink shame. We all like something different. It takes some of us a little more to get off. Some of us have better imaginations than others when it comes to fantasies.