Tougher
Carly Shay, a perfect goddess, lay unmoving on the bed. Her sleep was restless. She dreamt of the day that everything changed.
Her father was teaching her to ride a bike. She had resisted for so long- but that period was over, it was time to grow up.
Carly shifted irritably on the bed. It was hers. It was Freddie's. Really, it was hers and Freddie's and Freddie's and hers. They shared it, it was both of theirs at the same time. After years of resisting him, putting off… it, postponing the day that she give herself to someone, she finally give in to him. For the longest of times, the girl had ignored the growing needs they shared.
Her father held the bike, and her gaze. She pouted,, "I don't want to!" He smiled and patted the seat. Frowning, the young girl got on.
Carly's breath hitched; that day was very scary- she had fallen many, many times. It was a hard, painful lesson to learn, but a hurdle she had to cross nonetheless.
Looking unsteady, the girl opened her legs. Straddling the instrument, she carefully aligned her body with that of her device. It was unsteady. Her father slowly let her go. She had to do this without any help.
Carly shifted in the sheets, completely nude. The previous night, she and Freddie had finally consummated their love. Whatever doubts she had about whether she liked him, or liked him, were now obtuse. They had coupled, end of story.
She launched out, totally alone, without the support of her father. Her body strained to take the new stress, soft baby flesh attempting to take on the rite of her age. Her thighs pumped while she wobbled in place, trying her best to keep herself aloft.
It was a little degrading, being used like that. Freddie was an animal. He had been a wounded animal too. Although one of her best buds, the boy had no sense of gentleness, just of unbelievable want. He craved her like an addict craved a substance. She had tried to retain some of her dignity, some sense of self, only to be pulled under the strain.
It happened in slow motion. Her strength was not enough. The girl fell from her bike, muscles sore, her hands flew out trying to protect the body. Bright red painted the cement.
Carly twisted the sheets, ignorant of the cherry red painted across them. The sheets were Freddie's plain white. He had swapped out his old nerdy ones in place of the military style. Her ivory skin contrasted with the bloodied off-white of his possessions. Their blood had mixed, his from the wounds suffered, hers from innocence lost, the same kind of damage regardless.
She cried and cried and cried. Her father was so far away. She was alone now. The girl, through tear marred eyes, glared at the bike. It was hers, wholly and completely, and now it had turned on her. She lay on her back for some time, just waiting to feel better.
He owned her. Carly Shay, who was probably the most popular girl at school, was the possession of Freddie Bensons. But, just like the bed, it was a shared possession. He could not own her without her permission.
Finally, seeing the futility of sitting around, she got to her feet again. The girl shoved the bike back into place, and pedaled again. Her breathing got hard, the pain in her hands and knees oozed from her.
But Carly had always owned Freddie. That was how it worked. Now that he had her, kept her, everything had changed. The pain from knowing that once the dream was over, he would be gone, kept the brutnette under. Carly moaned quietly.
The burning pain quieted a bit for her. She felt something… incredible. Though still a bit wobbly, the girl got the device under her control, and got to perform the purpose at her own speed.
As cruel as Freddie had been, he had also been so soft. His hardness towards Carly also contained certain gentleness. The two had been frantic at first, like predator and prey, and then everything changed. Carly took control of herself, and Freddie allowed her room to work.
She laughed ecstatically, now understanding why all the other girls who had already done this were so sure she should try it too. The freedom, the speed, it was all so clear now. The wind whipped against her with strength. The whole experience was exhilarating.
Carly's breathing sped up as her body, still tangled, felt the after-effects of her rough night. Her thighs were sore from his work, her stomach red from friction. The top of her legs to the small of her back radiated discomfort.
She wanted to feel like this every day, even with the pain. It was so odd that such a painful experience could feel so amazing. She giggled euphorically. Her bike was her new favorite toy. The girl had finally crossed the milestone.
Carly's body, exhausted as it was, finally woke her. She got up, groaning. The memory of last night- Freddie, her, Griffin- it all came rushing back. She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. Everything had changed.
But the fight for Freddie's soul was far from over.