Hi, I'm RPDiem. This is my first time writing erotic fiction, so feel free to give some constructive criticism! It's the first of many parts, and the sooner I hear back the more likely I'll hurry my ass up and write more!
PART ONE – MEETING AND DEVELOPMENTS
High school, in brief, was hell. I was one of those kids who, for some reason, never managed to make any friends when I was younger, and by the time I became a freshman I was enough of a social pariah that no one would dare approach me in any way that wasn’t openly offensive or abusive. I’ve always been short and thin, standing 5’1” and weighing at about 110lb, and despite my efforts most of the weight I did put on went to my ass and hips, giving me a distinctly feminine build.
Bullying inevitably followed. The typical culprits were the more sports-oriented “jock” types. Whether it was in the cafeteria or the halls, they’d take every opportunity to make my life a living hell. There wasn’t much I could do, considering they typically stood about two heads taller than me and were much stronger in terms of sheer muscle mass. Soon enough, I wasn’t “Jude” anymore, but almost exclusively called “faggot” or “bitch”, words I came to respond to as if they were my actual name. Unlike some other stories of bullying I’d heard of, I’d managed to avoid outright beatings, but it wasn’t uncommon for the verbal abuse to be accompanied by some vigorous shoving.
When graduation came, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. It was like the first breath of fresh air after years in prison. The summer that followed was one of blissful isolation, hidden away in my room, reading science fiction novellas and listening to the few industrial rock CDs I’d purchased over the years. As was typical, I was a non-entity in my household: my father had raised me alone, and made it obvious early in my childhood that he took care of me out of a basic sense of obligation, not any deeper love. Perhaps this would seem upsetting to some, but I had long grown to accept it. I simply made an effort to keep out of his way for the remaining time I was in his house.
When the time came to go to college, I succeeded in packing my possessions into two hockey bags and loaded them into my father’s car. The drive was long and silent, and I spent most of it listening to my iPod on shuffle. When the car finally arrived at the dormitories, my father waited for me to unload the backs from the trunk, gave a curt farewell and drove off over the hill. All things considered, I probably wasn’t going to call home.
Check-in was an overall pleasant and uncomplicated affair, and the girl who gave me my keys gave me a flirtatious wink before turning to the next customer. It seemed things were finally looking up! The room itself wasn’t anything exceptional: Two beds, two desks, two wardrobes, two trunks and very little open space. These items were arranged symmetrically with a door leading to the shared bathroom at the wall opposite the entrance. The bathroom was even more cramped: between the shower, the toilet and the sink, there was barely room for one person to stand! However, I was willing to make due in exchange for my newfound freedom, and if my roommate was at all amicable, I had no doubt I had a pleasant year of studying biology ahead of me.
I quickly unloaded my luggage into the room. My laptop went to my desk, my clothes filled the wardrobe, my books and CDs went into the trunk and, as a final bit of embellishment, I tacked my Year Zero poster onto the wall over my bed. Strangely enough, the room was almost beginning to feel like home!
Then he arrived.
I had to stifle a groan as he entered. 6’6”, lightly tanned, heavily muscled and with dark blonde hair, he was the spitting image of the bullies who had tormented me through high school. He had two duffel bags slung over each shoulder. His white tank top seemed painted onto his chiselled chest, and his blue jeans clung loosely to what I could only assume were toned legs.
“You my roommate?” He grunted. His eyes told me he was distinctly unimpressed.
I swallowed. Appearances could be deceiving, after all. “Hi, I’m Jude! Pleased to meet you!” I stood up, outstretching my hand.
He walked directly past me, plopping his bags down at the foot of his bed before tossing himself onto it. Maybe he’s just shy, I thought desperately. Meeting people for the first time was always awkward, right?
A few seconds later, I heard him speak. “The fuck’s that?” He pointed at my poster.
“Ah, that’s Year Zero by Nine Inch Nails. It’s a really good album. If you’d like to listen-”
“‘Nine Inch Nails’!”He scoffed loudly. “You an emo kid?” He eyed me as if I were a bug he was contemplating crushing.
I blushed deeply. “No, not at all. It’s not an emo band-”
“You look like an emo kid.” The guy had a point: pale skin, black hair, black clothes, feminine look. If I had dyed my hair in streaks there wouldn’t be any doubt about it. “You’d better not start cutting yourself or something.” As he spoke those words I felt my hopes for a peaceful year dying.
This first meeting colored our interactions from then on out. Chris, as I learned his name was, either ignored me entirely or asked blunt, borderline offensive questions, which of course were based on assumptions that I couldn’t argue with. At first I was an “emo kid” who “looks like he cuts himself”, and this gradually transformed into “goth faggot” who “looks like he sucks dick”.
Classes, luckily, were going well, and soon I found the classroom to be a welcome refuge from the hell that dorm life had become. My marks were stellar, I had been commended by a couple teachers and I had even caught the odd girl staring at me during lectures. It seemed the “pretty boy” look carried a lot more clout in the post-secondary world, and I couldn’t have been happier.
Still, though, my relationship with Chris was gradually worsening. The man seemed to have no sense of privacy, and left the bathroom naked more often than not, letting his admittedly lengthy cock hang freely as he air dried himself. He also masturbated frequently, making no attempt to conceal his grunts and groans as he worked himself to one of his many daily orgasms. He at least had the decency to do so under his sheets, but soon enough the room stank of his stale sweat and cum. Then the abuse, which at first had been entirely verbal, turned physical.
It started with him shoving me out of the way whenever he needed to pass me in our room. I understood this: there wasn’t much space to maneuver, and he didn’t seem to type to politely ask someone to move. Soon enough, though, he made it clear his idea of fun was to wrestle me into submission, pinning me in whatever position he found amusing that day. This was only the beginning of what quickly turned into a much more disturbing trend.
One day, as he was exiting the shower, he caught me standing in my white briefs (or my “fag panties”, as he liked to call them). Despite my struggles, it was a matter of seconds before he had me pinned beneath him, face down as he straddled me naked from behind, his chest against my back and my neck in a chokehold. “All right!” I said. “I give up!”
“Not so fast.” He spoke, and given his tone I could almost hear an idea pop into his head. I was struggling for breath beneath his heavy weight. “You fight way too much when I tackle you. I think it’s about time you learned when to submit.” Then, to my horror, I felt him begin to grind himself against my rear.
“What… What the fuck are you doing?” I spluttered out, my throat tight in his arm's grip.
He chuckled. “You know what dogs do when they want to prove they’re tougher than another dog? They hump'em.” His grinding then begin to turn into hard thrusts, and I felt his cock begin to stiffen against the back of my briefs.
“Please… Please stop…” I whimpered, being driven roughly into the carpet with each monumental movement of his hips.
“Nope. Not until you’ve learned your lesson.” He puffed out between loud grunts, his breath heavy. I was beginning to get light headed, my breathing heavily impaired in the headlock, not to mention the crushing force of his body on top of mine. “Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a nice ass?” He asked.
“I had a girlfriend once. Real nice ass. Let me ride it anytime I wanted.” His grunting grew louder, his sweat trickling off his body onto my back. “Bitch quit on me, though. Said all I wanted was sex. Bitch…” His shaft was hard as steel at this point, pressed between his stomach and the cleft of my ass as he drove me repeatedly into the floor. “Anyway… Your ass… Not much different than hers… Just thought you should know that.”
With one final, loud grunt, he let go of headlock, leaving me gasping for air as he stood up, his breath heavy as well. “All right. Figure you’ve learned your lesson. I gotta take a fucking shower now…” With that, he wandered off to the washroom, and as I collected myself I could hear the sound of water falling through the door.
I slowly crawled to my feet, reaching back to feel my sore, bruised ass. Man, he was really into that show of dominance, wasn’t he…
My eyes went wide.
Between my cheeks, right were his cock had been when he pinned me, was a wet spot.
He came. He came while humping me on the floor. Oh God.
END PART ONE
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/2ekf40/slave_to_my_college_roommate_part_1_mm_bdsm_reluc
This was amazing! Thank you for sharing!
No problem! Thanks for the feedback!
Any time! Do you have skype?