This story contains themes of nonconsent. If that is not your thing, you may want to read another tale.
Chapter Nine: Things that are Known
Rebecca lay huddled under the blanket once more. She was alone now. After Cary had left her, presumably to retire to his own room, Rebecca had spent a long time in the bathroom, trying to clean his most recent sperm deposit from her pussy. Her body felt drained, like she was something other than drunk, but it was difficult to get back to sleep.
She stared at the locked door, her mind reeling with questions that she had no answers to. Where was Katie? Was Kevin’s mother still in the house? She assumed that Carol had been the one to put her in the bedroom, but everything from the time of Carol’s entry to Cary’s most recent violation of her body was a jumble of half-formed words and hazy images. Someone had been talking to her, soothing, guiding her, it seemed. She could remember drawing something.
The drawing brought the images of her friends to mind, and she recalled that she’d gotten drunk again and let them all fuck her in the sex dungeon. She couldn’t believe she was such a slut. She’d orgasmed from it. That memory was very clear, and crisp in a way that the others were not. Her orgasm had made all of her friends happy, which she felt good about, but the good feeling made her throat tighten and her eyes well up with tears. It was so disgusting. She was disgusting. It was her own fault.
She couldn’t even be mad at Cary for fucking her. Clearly, she’d offered him her pussy more than once. Was it his fault for taking advantage of her, when he knew that it was what she really wanted, deep down? It was a confusing mess of feelings. Being pinned beneath him, vulnerable, and overborne was nauseating and scary. But the pleasure of his thick penis, repeatedly pumping into her until he’d cum had made her feel like she was being useful, like she was a good friend. It felt like something that she had to do in order for people to accept her and like her.
If she wasn’t letting them fuck her, if she wasn’t having orgasms from it, they would not like her and she’d be worthless. She didn’t want to feel worthless, so it made a kind of sense that she’d get some measure of pleasure from them using her body. That did not, however, change the fact that it made her feel dirty. Still, having friends was important, and the most important thing about having friends was to make them happy. So, she rationalized that in order to attain some degree of happiness herself, she would need to learn to live with the fact that her usefulness as a friend was directly tied to the fact that she was rapeable.
Rebecca didn’t like the conclusion, but she didn’t have to like it. She didn’t have to like what her friends liked. She just needed to make sure they were happy, so she could be happy. Despite knowing these things, it did not make her feel any less afraid of them fucking her again, slapping her, or impregnating her.
What would she tell her parents if she was pregnant? Obviously, she couldn’t tell them she’d been raped. That would expose her secret. They’d know that she was a disgusting slut that orgasmed from rape. She’d have to just admit that she was a different kind of slut. Her parents would have to be told that she was the kind of slut that had unprotected sex with two men, and that she didn’t know which of them had knocked her up. Better that than admitting she was an orgasming rape slut, though.
***
Chapter Ten: Affirmation
Rebecca awoke to someone gently shaking her. She pulled herself, reluctantly, out of a pleasant dream and back into a waking world in which she immediately felt revulsion for herself. Carol’s face, looking down on her, looked haggard. Her eyes were dark and her expression was somber.
“Mrs. Keller?” Rebecca said.
“Yes. Hello, Becca. How are you feeling?”
“A little sick.”
Carol nodded and handed her a glass of water. Rebecca drank, holding the sheet tightly against her naked body.
“Trent is making some breakfast for us,” Carol said. “Do you remember what happened? Do you know why I’m here?”
Rebecca set the glass on the bedside table and lowered her chin to her chest. She twisted the sheet in her hand and her cheeks burned as she said, “I… I think I got drunk and did something stupid.”
Carol sighed and nodded.
“Not just you. All of you. You went into our personal space. I don’t fault you for being curious. It’s our own fault for not locking the door. We just thought that we could trust you.”
“I’m so sorry,” Rebecca said.
Her throat tightened and her eyes burned.
“What’s done is done,” Carol said. “In the end, there was no real harm done. You all had your fun. Things got a bit out of hand, though. I think your little weekend trip has come to an end. After you have something to eat, I’d like you to leave.”
Rebecca wiped at her eyes with the sheet, blushed, and then nodded.
“I’m really sorry,” she said again.
“I know what it’s like being young and curious,” Carol said. “I’m not going to tell your parents if that’s what you’re worried about. Let’s just chalk this incident up to teenage mischief, shall we?”
“Thank you. Is Katie alright?”
“Katie will be fine,” Carol said. “She’s sleeping off her own indulgence. After breakfast, I’ll drive you home. I think that’s safer.”
“Thank you.”
“I brought your bag from the other room. Get dressed and come out to eat.”
***
Rebecca sat at the table in the dining room feeling guilty. Mr. and Mrs. Keller were present, but Cary and Kevin had been sent home already. With Katie still in bed, that left Rebecca alone with the two of them. As she hadn’t eaten since their lunch the previous day, she was ravenous. However, the sick knot of shame in her stomach and the tightness in her throat made swallowing the food difficult. She wanted nothing more than to get home and spend the rest of the day in bed, alone.
Rebecca managed to choke down the last of her breakfast, after which Mr. Keller took her plate away. Carol instructed her to get her things and, soon after, they were driving away in silence. Rebecca had her hands folded in her lap and she stared at them, avoiding Carol’s gaze and trying to look as small and pathetic as she felt. She must have been very tired, though, because a short time later she fell asleep.
“Rebecca, can you hear me?” Carol asked as she pulled the car out onto the main road.
“Yes.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“You’re my guide,” Rebecca answered.
“Yes. I’m your guide. Do you know where you are?”
“I’m in a white room with a black clock on the wall.”
“What are you doing, Rebecca?”
“I’m drawing you a picture of the black clock,” Rebecca said.
“Thank you, Rebecca. I love your drawing. Your friends have been telling me how much they love it, too. Does that make you happy?”
“Yes.”
“It’s good to have friends that love you and accept you for what you are, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“What are you, Rebecca?”
“A disgusting slut.”
“That’s right. You’re a disgusting slut that orgasms from rape,” Carol asserted. “Your friends know that and they’re happy to keep your secret. It’s good to have friends that keep your secret, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the most important thing about having friends, Rebecca?”
“To make them happy.”
“What makes your friends happy, Rebecca?”
“When they get to fuck me.”
“You don’t like that they fuck you, do you?”
“No.”
“Why do you let them fuck you?”
“It makes them happy. I’m a disgusting slut.”
“Your friends accept that you’re a disgusting slut,” Carol affirmed. “As long as you keep them happy and continue being useful, they’ll keep your secret. What is your secret, Rebecca?”
“I’m a disgusting slut that orgasms from rape,” Rebecca said in her flat monotone.
“That’s right. You feel ashamed to be an orgasming rape slut, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You should feel ashamed. It’s disgusting to be an orgasming rape slut, but as long as you’re useful and make your friends happy, no one else has to know, do they?”
“No.”
“Did Cary fuck you again, Rebecca?”
“Yes.”
“Did you orgasm when Cary fucked you?”
“Yes.”
“How does that make you feel, Rebecca?”
“Gross. Ashamed. Guilty.”
“It’s very gross,” Carol agreed. “What will happen if you don’t let your friends fuck you?”
“They won’t like me. They won’t like my drawing. They’ll tell people my secret.”
“You want your friends to like you and your drawing, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You want them to keep your secret, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“What will you do for them so that they like you and keep your secret?”
“Let them fuck me.”
“That will make you feel ashamed and dirty, won’t it?”
“Yes.”
“But it’s more important that your friends like you, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Your friends are happy when you feel ashamed and dirty. They like that about you. They like your drawing. You’re happy when your friends are happy, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the most important thing about having friends, Rebecca?”
“That they’re happy.”
“What makes your friends happy?”
“When I let them fuck me. When I orgasm from rape. When I feel ashamed and dirty.”
“You’re a good friend, Rebecca. Your friends love you and they love your drawing. They’re going to keep your secret. They’re going to fuck you. Does that make you happy?”
“Yes.”
***
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