Tris's POV
Training ends and all of the other initiates leave the hall to rest before dinner. I still have some time to spare, so I stay back as usual to practice my punching. I watch everyone file out of the room before hanging up a bag. I take out my anger on the bag, letting loose. My knuckles are stronger now that I have been hanging back after training each day. They no longer bleed after each hour and I have moved up higher in the charts. Somehow, I can feel a presence; I know I am no longer alone. I turn around and see Peter. He smiles at me.
"I need to talk to you," he says.
"I was just finishing," I say, pulling the guards off my wrists.
Why would Peter want to talk to me? This can't be good. I am considering leaving to head out to dinner when I see Peter close the door and lock it.
"What?" I say, trying to sound tough when I am really scared of what he might do.
"Sit down, Stiff," he growls.
From the tone of his voice, I can tell that things would not go well if I didn't do as he said. I sit on the chair. Peter walks up to the knife stand and picks up a small, very sharp, knife. My heart starts beating faster. I look around for a weapon that I can grab easily, and realise how badly he had placed the chair. I would have to walk about 5 metres to the nearest weapon stand. Peter walks towards me slowly, smiling.
"What do you want…?" I begin, slowly standing up in case I can somehow reach the weapons.
Peter moves faster than I anticipated, and soon has the knife against my stomach, lightly piercing my skin. I gasp in surprise.
"Sit down," he says.
I comply, his knife still pressed to my stomach.
"Do anything and I will hurt you," he growls.
I gulp, too frightened to move. He grabs a rope from behind the chair and uses it to bind my hands to the back of the chair. I can feel the rope digging into the skin on my wrists. The pain brings me back to my senses, and I try to defend myself. Peter grabs one of my ankles and I kick him with my free foot. He stumbles backward, surprised.
"Stop! What are you doing?" I demand.
I try to wrench my foot from his grip, but he is way too strong. He takes out his knife and slices a shallow cut on my thigh a few centimetres down from my black shorts and I wince in pain. Fresh red blood trickles down my leg. The cut is not deep enough to cause any major issues, but it stings like hell.
"Co-operate, or I will double this," he says.
I scream for help and he adds 2 more cuts.
"Screaming is not co-operating," he snarls. "Besides, everyone is at dinner now, so nobody will hear you."
I know he is right. He takes my cut leg and ties it to one of the chair legs. He then takes my other leg and ties it to a chair leg on the other side, so my legs are apart. He puts his knife back in his back pocket and grabs my face in his hands. Peter smashes his lips against mine, forcing his tongue inside. Tears stream down my face, no matter how hard I try to stop them. This is not the way I wanted to lose my first kiss, and definitely not who I wanted to lose it to. I bite down on his lip, and taste blood. He pulls away quickly and slaps me across the face.
"Bitch!" he says.
He adds 3 cuts to my unscathed leg and I hold back a scream.
"Why are you doing this? You hate me!" I cry trying to reason with him, or at least hoping to get some answers.
"Don't put all the blame on me, Tris. This actually wasn't my idea. I was put up to it," he says.
"Why did you do it? What's in it for you?"
"My…. Supervisor…. Had other reasons for wanting to hurt you but mine are simple. You won the last part of initiation, so are threat to me. I needed a way to screw you up, so I could win. I just wasn't creative enough to think of something that would really break you, but still be pleasurable to me. So I am glad that my supervisor is very smart," he says.
Who is his supervisor? Why would they want me to be broken? I am so lost in thought that I don't notice Peter cutting off my black singlet. I look down as it falls to the floor, torn to pieces. He kisses me deeply again, unclasping my black bra behind my back, snapping the straps. I am left topless, and am ashamed of my 12 year old body. Peter snorts.
"You're so flat, Tris! Where are your curves?" he mocks.
He smiles arrogantly and grabs what breasts I do have. He squeezes them hard and I cry in pain, louder than I had planned. Peter adds 4 more cuts to my thighs. He steps back, aroused. I hope with all of my heart that he is finished, but somehow I know he is not. He seems to read my expression, because he laughs.
"You know you want me," he jokes.
I spit at him. He slips his hand down his pants and starts fondling himself, moaning quietly. I try to look away as he creates a tent in his pants. He unzips his fly and pulls his boxers down slightly, just enough for his erection to burst through. Although I am trying not to look, I can see how huge it is. About 9 inches is my guess. I stop trying to hide my tears and let them gush down my face in a waterfall of sobs.
"I have never gotten that reaction before!" Peter laughs.
He walks towards me, rubbing his member. He stuffs it in front of my face, holding my head to stop me from turning away.
"Suck it!" he demands.
When I refuse, he grabs his knife and pulls it slowly down from below my breasts down the centre of my stomach, leaving a thin line of blood. I wince in pain and he takes the opportunity to stuff his member in my mouth. He pushes it as far as he can, almost making me gag.
"Pleasure me!" he demands, holding his knife to my stomach.
He guides my head up and down along his member as I swirl my tongue around. He moans in pleasure, which makes me feel even sicker. He rubs my breasts as I suck him off, and after a few minutes I feel is warm cum fill my mouth.
"Swallow it!" he instructs.
When I refuse, he holds his knife to my neck. I swallow his cum, coughing and crying. A wave of courage washes over me, and I try to defy him. I scream, bubbling over with tears as he pushes his member back into my mouth. I bite down on it and she shoves me, pulling out. He releases more cum that sprays over my face, chest and hair, and starts to slowly drip down my body.
"Fuck!" he yells, roughly cutting down my shoulders.
I decide that we have been here for so long, dinner is probably over. That means that someone, anyone, could be in the corridor outside the hall. I scream for help as loud as my lungs let me, hoping someone will hear me.
Peter presses his knife back up against my neck and I silence immediately.
"I guess I might have to finish you off faster than I thought," he murmurs.
In one fast motion, I see my pants fall to the floor cut in half. I am left in nothing but my black underwear. He reaches to pull them off, but I buck my hips to push him away. This has gone too far, he can cut me all he wants, but I will not go through this.
"HELP!" I scream.
Peter fumbles but regains his balance. He cuts a thin slice along my cheek, and then pulls my underwear off. I cry in pain and desperation. He fingers me a little, before lining himself up in front of my hole.
"Stop!" I cry, tears pouring down my cum-covered face. "HELP!"
He slaps me again, and relines himself. He is just about to thrust in when the door crashes to the floor in splinters.