Hello again. Good grief, I'm so sorry it took this long, but nevertheless, I hope you like it. Read on and enjoy =)

IMMORTAN-JOES-FIRST-BREEDER- Why, thank you!

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It took a little while for Chelsea's eyes to adjust to the light shining through the tiny window. Things were blurry for a few seconds before the realization of being awake came upon her. She eventually started to sit up, but was halted by a sharp pain in her gut. It soon spread up to her lip and down to her privates. At first, the girl was confused. However, it didn't take long for her to remember the horrid events of the previous day. She felt the sting of his hand connecting with her face, the rough feeling of her comfy pants being yanked away, and him…just him, forcing himself into her without a care in the world.

Oh, God…

All of a sudden, it felt as if she were covered in mud. It took Chelsea a few tries, but she was able to get up and stumble over to the rusty sink. She turned on the faucet, ran her fingers under the water, and reached down to clean herself. It stung horribly at first, but after a few moments went by, it began to soothe her a bit. Still, despite the blood and grime that was leaving her skin, something even more disgusting remained. An awful feeling of shame latched itself onto her, and no matter how hard she rubbed her wet hands against herself, it wouldn't go away. Those torturous memories would never leave.

She eventually gave up, but before going back to the mattress, her eyes skimmed the room for her underwear and sweatpants. They were nowhere to be found.

Stan must've taken them while I was sleeping.

Her eyes quickly teared up at the thought of him being in the room while she wasn't even awake, at the very thought of him. Never had she encountered such a monster. Part of her insides knotted up as she remembered back to the previous week.

Yeah, I guess he's a monster of my own creation.

Though Chelsea didn't want to blame herself, pain was all she could focus on. There was no way to restrain her weeping as she wandered to the mattress and eased herself onto it, nor was there a way to find a comfortable position to lie down in. Ultimately, the poor girl chose to settle onto her side, facing away from the door. She knew the monster would come in at some point, but she prayed it wouldn't be for a while. But when a creaking sound reached her ears a few seconds later, it was obvious that God wasn't feeling merciful.

She couldn't move for a moment. It was as if her bones would implode at the slightest touch. However, when the footsteps reached the side of the mattress and stopped there, she glanced behind her. The sight of Stan lowering himself onto his knees and crawling towards her like the sewer rat he was made something snap within Chelsea. She tried to get up, but her abductor was much quicker than she expected him to be.

"Let go," she begged when he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back. "No, get away!"

The girl was close to hyperventilating at this point. The thought of being assaulted again was too awful to even process, and all she could do was panic. But Stan merely looped both his arms around her and drew her in.

"Shh, easy."

Chelsea squirmed as viciously as possible, but she wasn't a match for the older man. Though his behavior the day before was terrifying enough, this scared her too. He was obviously trying to trick her. The closeness of their bodies didn't sit well with her either, but eventually, her strength slipped away.

"That's it," Stan breathed, raising a hand to cup the back of the girl's head. "It's all right. I'm not angry anymore."

What…? It's like I'm being released from a time-out!

She was frozen. This odd occurrence had slowed her breathing, but her tears hadn't stopped. They were starting to make a wet spot on Stan's shirt. Things stayed like this a few minutes longer before the man spoke up.

"You're sorry, aren't you? For what you did?"

Chelsea was too shocked to react.

I'm sorry? I'm sorry? You raped me, and you're expecting me to apologize?

She considered not answering, but those arms slowly tightened around her body like an anaconda around a pig.

"Chelsea?"

"Yes, I…I'm sorry."

The situation was to frightening for her to rebel anymore, but she hated herself for giving in. Still, when Stan's grip slackened, it was a good sign that she would at least live a bit longer. After a few more seconds, he leaned back and reached into his pocket.

"Now, lay down on your back."

"Why?" she asked, suddenly petrified again.

But then, she saw the tube of ointment in his hand. It looked like some sort of antibiotic.

"This'll make you feel better."

The girl's apprehensiveness compelled her to revert into the submissive persona she'd developed during her captivity.

"Oh, thank you," she muttered, tentatively moving onto her back and reaching out her own hand. "But I can do it myself."

Stan's face tightened a bit.

"I'm going to do it." The tension seemed to go away just as quickly as it came. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

Surprisingly, he kept his word. In fact, whenever Chelsea winced at a particularly sore spot, Stan eased the movements of his finger and added an extra dab of the gel. After a couple of minutes, it was done.

"Can I have my pants and underwear back?" The man glanced at her while twisting the cap back on. "Please?"

"No, you can't. You tried to get away, so you're losing a privilege."

Her heart burned with rage at this, but she kept calm. Still, how dare he treat her this way? After what he'd already done to her, returning those pants was the least he could do.

At least he's leaving now.

But she was to be disappointed again. Once he'd put the ointment back into his pocket, Stan sat in front of the girl and glanced at her almost expectantly.

"Thank you," she said, praying that he'd depart upon hearing it. "I appreciate this."

The older man had an eerie calmness about him as he replied.

"I think you should thank me in a different way."

Chelsea's insides ached with dread, and she wondered why he couldn't just leave her alone. But his next words only worsened the feeling.

"I'd like a kiss."

The poor girl felt disgust churning down her spine. She'd maintained her composure, but this was too much.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Yes."

"All you need to do is kiss me." Chelsea hesitated, which made Stan lean closer to her. "Unless you'd like more of what happened last night…"

"No, no!" That was the reaction he really wanted. "Please, don't."

"Then do it."

After waiting a little bit, the girl closed her eyes and made herself lightly peck one of her captor's scarred cheeks. She wrapped her arms around herself, but the man's expression became more serious.

"You know that's not the kind of kiss I was referring to."

By now, Chelsea had started crying again. She couldn't stomach the idea of having to kiss him, especially after her attack.

"Stop stalling," Stan snapped. "It would be over by now if you'd obeyed when I first asked."

With every moment, it was becoming quite clear that he wasn't going to leave until he got what he wanted. Despite the revulsion in her gut, Chelsea leaned forward and forced her lips to slightly brush his. But before she could pull back, his hand darted out to cup the back of her neck, and she was suddenly weighed down onto her back.

Stan loved how sweet she tasted, and her squeals of protest only made things better. It didn't take long to push past her lips with his tongue, despite her vain efforts to prevent it. He let himself soak in every second of this that he possibly could. Though he'd gone his whole life without kissing anyone, he never put much thought into how wonderful it was. Now, it was like a drug he couldn't get enough of. Pretty soon, the girl's cries became annoying, and he made himself end the kiss.

Chelsea turned away as soon as she was able, trying to forget how disgusted she felt. Stan had not only stolen her virginity, but he also had to take her first kiss away. It was supposed to be sweet. Brian might've had some experience, but then again, maybe he would have been awkward like her. He probably tasted like bubble gum. After all, he chewed enough of it. He could never possibly taste like rotting teeth, like Death in the flesh and blood.

"Was that so bad?" asked Stan, breaking her out of her thoughts. "Hmm?"

"No."

She didn't want to bring more pain onto herself, and by now, she was desperate to make him leave. But he leaned over her a little while longer.

"No, what?"

"No, it wasn't bad. It was the best in the whole history of kisses! Is that what you want to hear?"

"Ah, ah!" The man laid a finger against her lips. "Don't be rude, Chelsea."

Oh, how she wanted to spit in his miserable decaying face. But she lost the window of opportunity upon him leaning down to rest his face against her neck for a few seconds. All she could do was freeze.

Then, out of nowhere, Stan released her, rose to his feet, and left.

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Let me know what you think.