[MF] Depths – noncon, sadism, semi-public, degradation, breathplay, violence

The pool’s always empty when Hallie gets there – it’s one of the advantages of coming to train at the very earliest or very latest time slots. She doesn’t mind other people, sure, but screaming kids or splashing seniors don’t really make great background noise when she needs to focus hard on her speed and technique. She’s lucky her building has a pool; few in the area do, but it was one of the most important factors when she picked her apartment. It’s not the fanciest facility, but she doesn’t need it to be, not really. She just needs the water and some space.

She’s been at it for an hour when she notices. It’s so easy to get lost in the rhythm of swimming laps that she usually spaces out or becomes entirely unaware of anything that isn’t her muscles and breath. But as soon as it registers that there’s someone sitting on the side of the pool, it nags at the edges of her awareness even as she tries to ignore it.

It’s a public pool. There’s nothing to say people can’t come and swim, hell, nothing to say they can’t come and just… watch. Like the guy she sees out of the corner of her eye as she turns for a breath seems to be doing. Something tells her not to acknowledge him, to just keep going, finish her practice, and get out. Something tells her to get out now, as fast as possible, but she shoves that thought down. She’s not going to let a random man sitting by the pool freak her out so much she lapses in her training.

Hallie doesn’t break her stride – well, stroke – and carries on, maybe a little faster, or maybe it’s her pulse that’s a little faster. She mentally chastises herself for that. How silly. She doesn’t look at him directly, just catches glances when she turns to breathe on her left side as she swims front crawl. A man who looks to be in his late forties, and pretty much everything about him screams ‘generic’. White guy, brown hair in the short-back-and-sides haircut every man in the city seems to have, dressed in grey swimming trunks that show off his body. Lightly muscled, maybe a swimmer like her. That would explain his presence, but not really why he’s not in the water.

Hallie doesn’t tend to think of every man she comes across in terms of attractiveness, but it’s hard not to at the pool, where everything is skin-tight and revealing. Her own costume is a simple black one piece suit, and she knows her body, toned and muscled from years of training, is objectively attractive. She’s probably better looking without the goggles or the swim cap, tucking away chin length hair, but it’s not like she does this to look good. She swims to get better at swimming. And if she’s honest, to get a break from the rest of the world and spend some time alone.

It occurs to her that he might be being polite and waiting for her to finish before he does his own swim, and she feels a little ridiculous for the nervous reaction that seemed to come out of nowhere. Well, she is nearly done anyway. She reasons she’ll finish her lap and leave him to it.

It’s easier after that to sink back into the rhythm for the last stretch and draw her mind back to breathing right, to feeling all the right muscles flex and shift with each movement. It’s easy to get lost in it, which is what she blames for not noticing what happens next.

It doesn’t even register until she turns for her next breath and a glance at where he’s sitting, finding his spot… empty. Then in the second her ear comes out of the water, she hears movement behind her; she feels the shift in the water, the disturbance to the simple flow of the waves she’d created in her wake.

Okay. Okay, this is normal. This is just a guy getting bored of waiting and wanting more time in the pool before it closes up for the night. There’s nothing to explain the anxiety, the flutter in her stomach.

So why does she feel like she’s being tracked by a shark?

He’s behind her, that much she can sense without even looking. He’s swimming in her wake, making no effort to pass her or move around her, or seemingly do anything but keep pace six feet behind her.

She’s fast – she’s always been the fastest, especially in the water, especially now when her heart beats so fast it hurts and every technique is tossed aside in favour of moving faster and reaching the edge of the pool: getting out, running, barricading herself inside her apartment and never coming out.

But somehow, somehow, she’s not fast enough.

He keeps pace with her, a constant distance between them as if her award winning speed is nothing to him. Maybe he thinks this is funny. A fucked up joke.

On her next glance up and forward, she sees she’s almost at the edge of the pool. It feels like it’s been hours since she clocked him behind her, but in reality it was far less than a minute. She reaches out to the side, feels tiles under her fingertips. She’d breathe a sigh of relief if it wouldn’t screw up her breathing pattern, and if she knew he wouldn’t hear it. The bastard would probably enjoy seeing her react to his messed up prank.

And that’s when a hand clamps around her ankle. Her whole body jerks in surprise, and she wants to turn and glare but she can’t muster indignation. She’s shot through with panic, some animal instinct that seems to understand more than her rational brain. His grip is tight enough to hurt, tight enough that no matter how hard and fast she kicks, she can’t break his grip. Hallie gasps, tries to protest or scream for help, but all she manages to do is choke on a lungful of chlorinated water.

He yanks her back against him, coughing and spluttering, and still kicking hard. He’s tall enough to stand out of the water, and he pulls her partially out with him as he manhandles her. In her haze of panic, she doesn’t manage to dodge his hands as he catches her by the waist and then her flailing wrists.

“Are you smart enough to listen to instructions or are you going to be a dumb bitch?” he asks, almost conversationally. She’s faced away from him, unable to see his expression, but he sounds scarily calm, unnervingly neutral.

Hallie drags in a breath, ready to scream. But he seems to know that. Her left wrist is suddenly released, and a large hand clamps down on the back of her neck. Barely a squeak comes out before she’s shoved forward, too fast to even begin to protest. Then she’s underwater, right arm still wrenched back painfully as she chokes.

She feels the water flood down her throat and into her lungs as she instinctively gasps for air in a place where there is none to be found.

Just when she thinks she’s dying, she’s yanked back up into dizzying light and oxygen. If he says anything, she’s dead to it as she hacks up what feels like endless water and gasps like a fish.

“Stop,” she wheezes, voice so hoarse it’s barely audible over laboured breathing and frantic splashing. “Stop!”

“Should I take that as a ‘no’ on your ability to do what you’re told?”

“Stop,” comes out pathetically weakly. “Please.”

He scoffs but says nothing else, just keeps his bruising grip on the back of her neck and wrenches her swimming cap off with the other. All she can manage is a wince as it tugs on her hair, still too preoccupied with trying to suck in enough air to not pass out. Her hair is on the shorter side, but brushes her shoulders for a second before it’s gripped in his hand, twisted painfully, letting him manoeuvre her head with ease. She’s pulled back further, squeezed closer to his body, hard chest against her back.

In this position, it’s impossible not to feel something hard against the small of her back.

“Please,” she whispers. “Let me-”

The hand in her hair twists hard, and she chokes out a cry.

“You want me to hold you under again?”

“No, no, please,” she gasps.

“Then behave, bitch.”

Only a soft whine leaves her throat. Part of her wonders if he’d let her up for air at all the second time.

His hands move. The touch is rough and careless as one hand gropes her chest, making his intentions abundantly clear. The other lands on her hip, but shows no sign of staying there long. His fingertips creep lower, slip under the edge of her costume at the top of her thigh.

It strikes her then that they’re still standing in a public pool, though he seems entirely unworried that someone will find them. The pool is seldom used except for Hallie herself, but it’s still very much open. Someone could come; someone could save her. She can’t risk calling for help, but maybe someone will come… and see her, like this. See her standing, shaking and gasping, but not fighting back as his hand squeezes her breast like a stress ball, pinches her nipples harshly until she whimpers, inches slowly between her legs and she doesn’t dare try to close them.

Hallie’s not sure which idea is more horrible – the prospect of someone coming in and seeing her, or the prospect of this continuing uninterrupted.

“Take this off,” he says calmly, and she doesn’t register the command behind the haze of panic until his hands suddenly withdraw.

She jolts, spins to look at him on instinct and nearly topples into the water. He laughs unkindly, looks her up and down expectantly.

“Now, whore.”

Her lips part to protest, but before she can voice anything, he lets out a sigh and slaps her hard across the face.

He’s strong. Strong enough that she falls, hits the water and goes under in a split second. The sudden rush of water, loss of air, tears a scream from her that gets nowhere through the water around her.

He’s strong enough to grab her by the hair and wrench her out of the water.

“God, you’re stupid. You better make this worth my time, dumb bitch.” His tone is more affectionate than malicious, and it makes her stomach churn all the more. “Now strip.”

Hallie doesn’t risk parting her lips again. A moment of hesitation makes him raise his hand, and she flinches, hands flying to the shoulder straps.

“Well done, you’re almost as fast to learn as my dog.”

She squeezes her eyes closed, forces herself to move and obey, if only to avoid more violence. If she’s good, it’ll be… quicker. Hopefully. There’s no denying what he plans to do. There’s no denying she has no hope of beating him in strength or speed. There’s no use delaying the inevitable.

She’s going to be raped.

The costume is thin and flimsy, it exposes all of her shape and curves, but in that moment it feels like a suit of armour she’s being forced to remove. She slides her thumbs under the straps and peels it down, feeling the chill on her exposed skin. Goosebumps rise on her skin despite the fact she’s not that much colder, and she tries not to wince as she feels her nipples harden in the air. When she reaches her waist she pauses, unable to keep the tremor out of her hands.

He hums, sounding pleased at what he sees so far. “Eyes open now, whore. Look at me while you take the rest off.”

Everything in her screams to escape, to not fully expose herself to this man who has proved how willing and able he is to hurt her. But she takes a raspy breath and forces herself to open her eyes.

He gives her a small smile, though in no way friendly. It’s all teeth and predation. He’s busy palming himself through his swim trunks under the water, and she can’t see how big he is – honestly, she doesn’t want to know. She never wants to find out. But she doesn’t doubt she will soon.

Just as his eyes darken she remembers the order and scrambles to obey. The shark-like smile widens when she shoves her costume off completely, knowing she can’t afford to hesitate.

“Good slut,” he praises, “now kick it off and come closer.”

Hallie doesn’t let herself pause, because she knows if she freezes, she won’t be able to unfreeze herself.

Her height means the pool water reaches her hips, the closest she’ll get to concealing herself in any way. Not that it does much, and as she wades over to him, his eyes slide down.

She stops a couple of feet away. Pulling her by the hair until they’re almost chest to chest, he wastes no time in reaching for her with his free hand, stroking himself leisurely through his shorts as he resumes kneading and pinching her breasts.

“You’re a pretty thing. Great tits,” he says. “Probably why you’re so dumb. You hardly ever get whores with brains and looks.”

She bristles internally, but has enough self preservation not to show it.

After what feels like forever, he releases her tender breasts. But she can’t muster any relief as his hand slides down her wet skin and dips under the water.

Hallie isn’t sure what she expected, but it wasn’t him immediately pushing apart her folds and driving a finger inside. A scream of shock and pain bubbles up her throat but comes out almost silent. That doesn’t stop him from letting out an exasperated huff and grabbing her by the neck again. The squeeze isn’t enough to choke her, but enough to make her head spin and heart pound.

“Wait, no, wait!” Hallie pants, body flailing instinctively.

“God, you really can’t behave, can you? Too dumb to save your own life.” Her blood runs utterly cold, and he barks out a laugh. “Kidding, bitch. I don’t do corpses, but if I figure you’ll be less trouble unconscious, I’ll choke you out. And you’re clearly a shitty swimmer, so you don’t want me dropping your unconscious little body in the pool when I’m done, so be careful. Gonna be a good whore for me now?”

She nods rapidly, jerkily.

“Too dumb for sentences, are we?”

“Y-yes,” she manages.

“That’s not a sentence.”

“Yes, I’ll be- be good.”

“Not what I said.”

She can feel the shame rise up in her, flushing red. “I’ll… I’ll be a good whore for you.”

He chuckles, and it could pass for a pleasant sound in another situation. “You’ll be a quiet white if you know what’s good for you,” he says lightly, then viciously drives two fingers into her.

She’s almost glad for the hand around her throat to keep her quiet for him.

As she thrashes, her legs leave the pool floor and she’s momentarily only held up by his hand around her throat and fingers buried in her pussy.

Her lips part into gasping and panting as she desperately fights her reactions. There’s none of her own wetness, only the chlorinated pool water that offers no mercy. She thinks she must be torn open as her insides sting against the chemical. She wonders if she’d see blood in the water if she looked down.

His fingers are thick, stretching and tugging at her walls even before he scissors them – and when he does, she feels her whole body convulse. She’s tight, especially as she instinctively clenches down with each spike of pain and only manages to make it worse; she hasn’t had sex in a year, too focused on training and racing to waste her evenings on one night stands or boyfriends. There’s a dildo in her nightstand, but it’s about as thick as two of his fingers pressed together.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he chuckles. “You’re lucky I’m nice enough to stretch you out first. Why don’t you be a good bitch and say thank you?”

Hallie chokes back a sob, and manages to get out “th-thank y-” before he draws his hand back and shoves back in again, hard and fast.

He fucks her on his fingers for a while, laughing as she whines and whimpers and pathetically tries to stammer out a ‘thank you’ in the hopes of it somehow ending her torment.

“Tha- ah- ah- thank, ah- ah, you,” she finally eeks out.

“Good bitch,” he laughs, and finally pulls his fingers out of her aching pussy. “How about a reward?”

Hallie feels simultaneously utterly numb and totally aflame. Agony and apathy swirl through her relentlessly, and she can’t even muster a nod or head shake or plea for mercy.

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to care enough to punish her lack of response. He just grins and reaches into his trunks, freeing his cock. Even distorted through the water, it fills her stomach with leaden dread. He’s far bigger than two of his fingers.

Tears are dripping down her face before she even realises she’s crying, dripping down her face and body and into the water. The man drops and kicks off his trunks, surging forward and wrapping an arm around her waist to press her against him. She can feel solid muscle under his skin. He’s not visibly muscular, but all of his skin against hers feels firm and hard.

The top of her head only reaches his cheekbones, so he leans down a little to lick a stripe up her face, catching her tears on his tongue. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he groans. “Keep crying just like that, bitch.”

At least he likes it, when she can’t hold back and starts choking out tiny sobs.

With a pleased hum, he pulls back to watch a tear drip down and follows it to her stomach, lapping it up at her bellybutton and tracing its trail back up to her breasts. He seems especially pleased when a rough bite to her nipple makes her sob harder.

When he reaches her face again, he pets her head like a dog and releases her throat. With both hands free, he grabs both of hers and leads them down. It takes all she has not to pull away, to let him wrap her fingers around his fully hard cock.

Hesitantly, she starts sliding her hands along the shaft. Maybe she can get him off like this, and then he won’t-

“Not quite,” he smirks. “Aren’t you an eager little whore?”

Humiliation rushes through her, but is rapidly replaced by horror when he continues. “I didn’t stretch you out to get a mediocre handjob. Put it in your tight little cunt.”

Hallie balks, tries to pull her hands away but freezes when he raises an eyebrow and a hand. “I won’t ask again.”

Tears blur her vision, but she doesn’t need to search for any mercy in his face that won’t appear. Blinking back burning tears, she looks down. He feels heavy in her hands, hot, hard flesh under her fingers. Thick, and large, in a way that makes her repress a shudder at the thought of that going inside her.

“Please,” she whispers, unable to help the plea from escaping no matter how futile she knows it is.

“What, is that too complicated for you?” he tuts. “Fine, I’ll help you out.”

And before she can react one of his arms catches her by the waist, lifting her up and against him; the other guiding the tip of his cock to her still aching pussy. She bites back a protest, but can’t suppress a flinch at the feeling of him prodding at her entrance.

“You’re welcome,” he says, then pulls her down hard.

Hallie throws her head back in a silent cry as he breaches her carelessly, triggering spikes of pain to her tender flesh.

It hurts. She wants to thrash and kick and get away, wants to beg him to stop and take it out, wants to be anywhere but here and now. But she knows logically that if she wants this to be over any time soon, she needs to do everything in her power to get him off as fast as possible.

He doesn’t hesitate, no consideration for her readiness or comfort, before he starts fucking her with abandon. It’s fast and rough, his hands settling on her hips and digging mercilessly into her flesh. He uses her like a doll, bounces her up and down as he thrusts up into her, sending the water around them flying and splashing.

It feels almost like a machine fucking her, entirely without any compassion or mercy, going on and on and on.

He groans, low and deep, and presses his face into the side of her neck, bites into the skin there until she sobs at the points of pain all over her body. She wants to disappear into her mind, like she’s read some people do when they’re raped. She wants to feel nothing, to be nothing in that moment, but she can’t seem to slip away. Every ache, every bite, every vicious thrust is felt, and she wonders if she’ll stop feeling it even when it’s over.

Her flailing hands land on his shoulders, and he doesn’t care enough to shove them away as he continues to drill into her and nip at her neck and shoulder. She feels his muscles flexing and tensing under her palms, tries to focus on that instead of the cock driving in and out of her endlessly –

Until his pace stutters, his hands on her hips clamp down agonisingly tight and he slams into her one last time. Hallie balks as she feels him finish deep inside her with a rough moan. Hot, thick liquid spills into her,

“You’re so dramatic,” he chuckles. “Well, you’ve been a relatively well behaved bitch. Want a treat?”

Hallie shakes her head frantically, but he just barks out a laugh and shoves his hand between her legs. She lets out a panicked whine, but doesn’t dare try to escape when his other hand winds through her hair.

It’s almost over, she tells herself. She hopes. Prays. Begs the universe for it to be almost over.

Thick fingers probe at her slit and she feels more tears dripping down her face at the prospect of another penetration, but it never comes. Because his fingers find her clit, eliciting a gasp and more squirming as he rubs the sensitive skin without care. The motions are almost vicious, pressing and settling into a rhythm of rubbing her clit hard and fast.

For a moment, it’s just raw and painful, but after a few agonising seconds… it changes. Hallie gasps raggedly as her body starts reacting. Heat rushing through her, thighs trembling, clit aching with arousal. It’s terrible, wonderful, heaven and hell. Her pussy clenches around nothing, and disgust rolls through her as she feels his come slide out of her. But not strong enough to counter the arousal.

“I- I don’… wanna-” she slurs, barely coherent, unable to think anything but that she can’t come from this. She can’t, she can’t let herself, if she ever wants to be able to live with herself again.

He huffs. “I’m doing you a favour here, whore. Shut the fuck up and enjoy it.”

And then she’s underwater again.

She manages to catch a tiny breath before she goes under, but as her body thrashes and convulses she thinks she might just drown anyway. And the hand on her clit doesn’t stop, keeps rubbing and pinching mercilessly even as her legs kick against him. He might as well be a brick wall for all her struggles do.

She thinks she’s going to die here. Drowning with her rapist’s release in her pussy and his fingers on her clit. All she can see is blue and a cloud of bubbles that erupt as her last air escapes, then black and grey flashing across her vision like lights.

Then he wrenches her back up, out, and she comes hard on his fingers. If she had enough air, she would scream, but all she can do is cough and hack up water as her whole body shakes through her climax.

Dazedly, she realises he’s still holding her up by the hair. She thinks that if he let go, she’d collapse into the water and not have the strength to get out. She doesn’t even manage a reaction when suddenly he scoops her up in a bridal carry and wades to the side of the pool, dropping her on the hard tiles as he climbs out.

“Can’t have you drowning on me, now,” he smiles, then drops something on her stomach – her swimming costume, she registers. She hadn’t noticed him picking them up. He pulls on his own trunks casually, then spares her limp form a glance. “You’re welcome, slut. I’d offer to walk you to your room, but you look just fine there.” He cracks a grin. “Maybe if you’re lucky another nice guy like me will give you a good time.”

The numbness seems to finally be setting in, far too late, and nowhere near numb enough. She can still feel her pussy pulsing with the aftershocks of her orgasm, can still feel what he left from his dripping out of her onto the tiles. Her head feels like it’s full of cotton wool, but her senses stay alight, every pain and ache making itself known.

“You’re apartment fifty three right?”

Hallie’s eyes slip closed, but the tears fall anyway. She should have known. Should have known he wasn’t done.

“I’ll see you soon. Unless you’d prefer to meet up here? That was fun, wasn’t it?” She can feel him looming over her prone body even without seeing him. “Don’t worry, slut. I’ll give you a real good time.”

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/unf87d/mf_depths_noncon_sadism_semipublic_degradation