"You look good like that, Raven."
I was bent over a toilet in the boy's bathroom. He smiled, tracing a black fingernail over my bruised cheek. He shifted his hips to press against my backside. I squinted, pretending that this was happening to someone else. Someone on television.
A pierced tongue trailed down my back. I shivered. Fully closing my eyes, I tried to think about something more pleasant, but his hands were in my dyed black hair, pulling roughly.
"Don't fucking cower." He hit my ass hard. It stung and my eyes opened instantly. Shocked back into reality, I tried to grip the slick tile better. My vision was swimming. So fucking hungry. I held my breath to stop my stomach from growling. He wouldn't like that.
He started stretching me. It ached but I bit my tongue, swallowing blood. He was talking. I knew that I should be listening. He wasn't just in this for the fuck. He was in this for an experience.
Trying not to think about the fingers moving in and out me. Ignoring my stomach's complaints. Pretending it wasn't fucking freezing in that room.
"Come on, you little jock." He whispered into my ear, "Show me how much you love it."
I forced a moan out of my lips. I tried to make it good. Praying he wasn't as keen on my bad acting as some other people I'd serviced.
"Tell me you're sorry, Raven." He slipped his fingers out. Fuck. I knew what was next.
"I'm sorry." I panted, trying to stop my trembling legs from collapsing.
"Tell me you want this." He smacked me hard. Nothing playful about it.
"I want this." I could feel him pressing against me, hand slipping around my waist, holding me steady.
"Tell me you're mine." He pushed in just as I began to respond. I wasn't expecting it and I let out a yelp. I cursed myself over and over in my head. Didn't like to make noise in public places.
He was another story. It seemed to goad him on. Dragging nails all up and down my back. Pulling my hair. Slapping me so hard that welts and bruises were sure to litter my skin later. Anytime I didn't let out an audible response, he did whatever he was doing rougher. But I couldn't be too loud. I would've just died if the real Stan were to come in and hear us.
He let me eat his lunch afterwards. I thanked him.
