Author's Note:

WARNING: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION IN THIS CHAPTER.

Okay, this chapter made me change the rating of the entire series. Sorry everyone!

You'll also notice the titles have changed some. I added what book they were to the title so those continuing the series knew what book to go to next. I will also be adding a link to the next book at the end of each of the first three.

Hope this helps!

Amy was sitting at the computer, playing her millionth game of chess versus the computer on the hardest difficulty (and writing in that dreaded journal), when Stan suddenly opened her door and closed it behind him. Something seemed wrong with the way he had simply entered her room the way he did. It wasn't...normal of him.

"Something up?" Amy asked nonchalantly, not really looking at him.

Stan simply smiled and sat on her bed, patting the area on the mattress next to him. "I need to tell you something."

Amy quickly decimated the computer player, then turned off the computer before walking over slowly and sitting as far away as possible from him. "Like what?"

Stan didn't seem to like their distance, as he slid over closer and wrapped his arm around her waist, his hand fiddling with the hem of the short skirt she wore. "You look...simply ravishing in this skirt."

Amy glared at him. "To the point, Stan."

Stan sighed, placing his hand on her leg. "Amy my dear, I'm going to be leaving for the day, and I figured we ought to make the most of our time together before I left."

Amy didn't like what he was implying. "What do you mean?"

Stan sighed. "I mean we may need to re-order our schedule some."

"How so?" Amy's heart skipped a beat as her blood ran cold.

"As in moving our love session from in an hour...to now," Stan said, and before Amy knew it, he was pushing her to the bed and kissing her. Amy fought against him but he quickly grabbed her wrists and held them flat against the bed that creaked beneath their weight and movement. Eventually Amy found Stan straddling her shoulders and, as he removed his clothing, shoving himself in her mouth. This was unlike him, and her eyes bugged out in fear. She didn't like the choking feeling nor the feeling of his cum flowing into her mouth and down her throat. Her mouth was too small for this. This was worse than being gagged: she could hardly breathe and wanted to throw up terribly.

After a while, he was shivering, and so he removed himself from her mouth and quickly slipped off her skirt and red panties to slip himself inside her...she pulled away slightly at this but he simply slipped in further and laid himself on top of her, removing her tank top and carefully unfastening her bra. The two were stark naked, so it was only natural the two were shivering in the icy cold of her room. Stan knew that if he stayed in that room any longer his joints would lock up on him and he wouldn't be able to move. So he carefully pressed Amy's body against his while keeping himself inside her, wrapping a blanket from her bed around them, and headed to his room where it would be nice and warm.

As soon as they were on the bed Stan was fastening her wrists to the loop on the headboard with the belt he always used and went back to raping her. After about an hour, he removed himself from her only to go to her feet and begin kissing her entire body. Feet, then shins, then thighs, then he actually did kiss her down there (which was another first), then her waist, then her stomach, then her breasts (he lingered here, tenderly groping them and kissing and sucking on them before biting them ever so slightly; these were his favorites besides her lips), then her chest, then her neck and throat (here he stopped and bit a tiny bite before licking the spot and kissing it again), then her chin, then her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, her head, her ears (each of which received licks and bites; it was almost as if Amy was his lollipop), then finally kissed her lips, coiling his tongue around hers and swirling it around in her mouth as he kissed her. Amy closed her eyes in disgust as he repositioned himself on her shoulders and inserted himself back in her mouth. She didn't want to hurt him with her teeth, but she wanted to breathe. It was nearly impossible to breathe with him giving her a "blow job" as kids at school would have called it. Amy called it cruelty and sexual suffocation.

Eventually Stan seemed to have had enough of that, so he removed himself from her mouth only to re-insert himself inside her and, while he proceeded to rape her that way, began fondling her breasts again, then trailed his right hand down to her hips and stroked that general area as he kissed and sucked on her breasts. Eventually he went back to kissing her mouth and simply groping her breasts and hips.

Hours later, Stan finally sat up, still inside her, and stared at her face, the usual youth in his faint smile and features. "Amy..." he whispered, laying back down next to her and wrapping his arm around her.

Amy couldn't speak. The amount of his cum still in her mouth was unbelievable and extremely grotesque. She could hardly swallow. He'd been so rough and obviously so terrifyingly aroused this time.

Stan didn't seem to care as he cuddled up next to her, resting his head on her left shoulder. "You're so warm and soft, Amy..."

"You're despicable," Amy choked out, her voice contorted by the fluid in her mouth and throat.

Stan closed his eyes and smiled. "But at least I'm right."

Amy closed her eyes and frowned before opening them again and staring up at the ceiling.

Stan eventually sighed and, leaning on his elbow, said, "Amy..."

"What?" Her voice was still garbled, but clearing some as the liquid trailed down her throat. She was soon able to swallow again, and with that, she did.

Stan sighed. "I could easily just leave you here, tied like this, so that when I return, we can continue and I can spend more time with you."

Amy was shocked at this suggestion. "What?!" Her voice was shrill with fear, clearing up more.

Stan smiled. "You wouldn't want me when I returned?" he asked, walking his pointer and middle finger up her chest along her breastbone before lightly tapping her nose.

"No."

Stan's smile vanished. "No?" His voice was hard and unwelcoming.

"Not after what you've done now."

"Oh come on, Amy, it was an experiment."

"And you make me your guinea pig?!" She struggled to face him, but she finally managed.

"There's no one else here that I love enough to express it properly!" Stan shouted. "Mrs. Meyes-"

"Wait- you've done this to Mrs. Meyes?!"

"To get ready for you, my dear."

Amy couldn't believe it. They'd told her he never even touched them, and Stan had said the same. Now both had lied to her, and for what? "So you lied to me?!"

"I don't know what you mean," Stan asked, seemingly clueless.

"You told me when I got here and saw them here you never hurt them. You LIED to me!"

Stan closed his eyes and said, "First I'm a bastard, now I'm a liar... Widen your vocabulary, young lady. If you're going to call me something, do it with dignity and creativity, or call me by my rightful name."

Amy narrowed her eyes and frowned. "Your presence makes it next to impossible to think clearly and creatively."

Stan smiled. "Well, I must make you think of something."

"I hate you."

Stan's eyes flew open wide. He obviously wasn't expecting that. "You...what?"

"I said I hate you."

Stan sighed. "I should have expected that," he said, sounding slightly depressed.

With that, he sat up and got off the bed, walking over to his dresser. He slipped on clean briefs and black jeans along with a black army-style button-down shirt that he tucked in and rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. He also wore a brown leather belt similar to the one Amy's wrists were wrapped in, but more…stylish and new, not having been bent unusually and used on tiny wrists. He casually leaned over the bed and kissed her lips before pulling the sheets over her.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he said, kissing her again.

"Wait- you're leaving me here? Like this?!" Amy cried.

Stan laughed. "For a response like 'I hate you,' you'll be lucky if you ever leave this room again!"

Tears streamed down her face. That was the last thing she ever wanted. "Please..." she whimpered, "Don't do this to me."

But Stan shook his head adamantly, his left hand on the doorknob, keys clenched in his right. "I'm sorry Amy, but you need to learn something from this." With that, he opened the door and left the room.

The click of the lock was the last straw: Amy began bawling her eyes out. How could he? He was never like this. He was never aggressive nor cruel to her, always listening if she was speaking. His actions simply didn't make sense. What were his intents? Why was he leaving, and what was he doing out in...wherever he was going?

Amy stopped crying – hours later - as the sound of someone approaching the door. The key was crudely shoved in the lock, the doorknob turned, and then the door opened.

But the man…wasn't Stan.

He was huge. A freaking wardrobe of muscle. His brown hair was cut in a crew cut, and his eyes were shielded by dark sunglasses. He came over to her and carefully undid the belt around her wrists.

"Who are you?" Amy asked.

He shook his head, saying, "Je ne parle pas l'anglais."

Amy nodded. "Oh. Then: Je vous remercie."

He nodded, handing her the top blanket (which had been the one Stan had wrapped around them originally on their way to his bedroom), which she wrapped around herself as she struggled to stand. He sighed and picked her up, carrying her back to her room and laying her on the bed. As soon as he was sure she wasn't going to try to escape (or at least that was what she figured from his actions whenever she tried and failed to move without pain), he nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him. Amy listened to hear if he locked it, but he didn't, so she sighed, relieved Stan still let her have that luxury of being free to move throughout the house…in a way. There were still those locked doors and only one window, as far as she had found, so she wasn't given completely free-reign. But she was thankful for what freedom she did have, and used it wisely.

After fifteen minutes, she sat up slowly, her crotch still in intense pain. She knew she had to try to walk some of it off (it was the only way that worked for her), but this was more pain than she was used to. She decided to finish writing her journal entry, not bothering to write about the love session only because she was too scared to. Once she was finished, she shut the journal and put it back in its hiding place between the matress and boxspring.

"How long did that love session last?" Amy wondered aloud, knowing no one would be able to answer her.

No one that was there at the moment, at least. She knew Stan would never tell her, so she'd have to figure it out for herself. She slowly and stiffly put on clean, less revealing clothes before slowly hobbling around the house to the room with the window. From what she could see of the white, overcast sky, it was nearly impossible to tell what time it was. For all she knew, it could be noon, or it could very well be dawn. She didn't know, and probably never would, considering all clocks were set to different times just to throw her off. She didn't know which clock to go by. And Stan had taken away her iPod again. She had a feeling that this time, she wouldn't be getting it back. That had the most accurate time in the entire house, and Stan didn't seem to know how to use the touchscreen device itself, let alone change the time.

Amy sighed as she left the room, pacing throughout the house. She simply kept pacing, knowing the pain would go away eventually, as long as she continued to move. Knowing this, she decided she might as well dance, as that would serve a double purpose: it would calm her, and it would help her pain go away. Sighing again, she walked back to her room less stiffly than before, taking out a blue leotard and long white skirt with a red mesh under-layer that made it look slightly pink from her costume bin, the outfit that would have been her costume for that year's dance recital. She quickly changed into that and a pair of white tights, then grabbed her ballet slippers and walked down to the basement, where she knew her stage was waiting.

As soon as she had put on her slippers and stretched, she rose onto her toes and gracefully fluttered across the small stage, twirling and pirouetting, never letting herself stop moving. If her feet weren't moving, it was her arms. All she did was dance to music no one else could hear but her. Soon her pain was gone, but she was no longer dancing to remove pain. She was dancing because she could, because she liked to, because it was all she had.

And as she danced, Mrs. Meyes and Cameron came to watch, Mr. Bronsky soon joining them. When she finally stopped, the three clapped, and she curtsied, smiling sadly. Mrs. Meyes knew then and there what had happened; Amy knew her teacher knew thanks to the fact that Mrs. Meyes got up and hugged her close, whispering reassuring things to her...

"Amy? Amy?"

The bright, blurry world spun around her. Where was she? What was going on? Wasn't she-

"Amy?!"

The voices calling her name sounded far away, but the silhouettes of three men hovered above her. Concern was heard in their whispery voices as they called her name.

"Amy!"

"Unhghhh..." Amy moaned, the pain suddenly shooting up her limbs and swallowing her head. She let out a muted scream as someone touched her in what was supposed to be a gentle way.

"Sorry!" the person cried, crying out in pain themself.

"What in the world did you give her?!" a voice cried, their tone accusatory and harsh.

"Just some pain medication my brother gave me! I have no idea what it was, but evidently it was a lot stronger than I thought."

That voice. She had just heard it not too long ago. Stan. She shied away from the direction of the voice, but another muted scream escaped her lips.

"And so you give it to her anyways?!"

That one...Reid. But then the third person...who could that be?

Suddenly Amy was writhing in pain, trying desperately not to scream. The weight of the world was suddenly on her right hip.

"Oh God Amy I'm so sorry!" Stan cried. "I'm just trying to stop the bleeding."

Amy nodded weakly, her breathing sharp and quick.

Someone gently grasped her hand, shushing her gently. "Everything will be alright, Amy. Hush. It's alright. It's alright. Everything is alright. Relax. Shhhh."

"Dom?" she managed to whisper.

Her brother's face was the first of the three to clear a tiny bit. He smiled. "I'm right here."

"Who's...where?"

Dom looked to her right. "At your right hip is Stan, and the one that one stop moving is Spencer. He's pretty pissed."

Amy closed her eyes, her breathing slowly returning to normal. "I would think so."

"You gave her this?!" Reid suddenly exclaimed, holding something up. It was too blurry for Amy to see.

"...yes," Stan answered.

"THESE ARE OPIATES!" Reid shouted.

Stan cowered away from him, leaning closer to Amy's head. "I only gave her one! I didn't know how strong they were!"

"THESE COULD HAVE FUCKING KILLED HER!"

That's when it hit her. The love session she had been experiencing prior to this...it was only a hallucination. Sure, it had actually happened months ago, but it hadn't happened right then and there. Mrs. Meyes, Mr. Bronsky, Cameron, the three of them were fine, safe in their homes no doubt.

"That was the day you'd left to fetch Spencer," Amy found herself muttering, tears dripping slowly from her eyes.

"What?" everyone asked, looking at her.

"The...hallucination I had. It was of when you went to fetch Spencer," Amy whispered, nodding. "Well, what happened beforehand, at least, and then continuing with what I had been doing afterwards." She bit her lip. "For a moment, I had feeling from my waist down again."

Stan's head fell against her arm. "Oh."

Reid exchanged a look with Dom as Amy's world began to clear up very slowly. "Do I even want to know?"

"No."

"Good."

Stan sighed, then stood slowly and painfully. "Now... I'm going to need a laptop."