Fun, but harmless.

(Warning: noncon.)

I’d always thought of posting on Reddit was much like going to the grocery store without panties – fun, but ultimately harmless as long as you were careful. So I set some rules for myself. No face. No identifying features. No landmarks. No ID or anything like that. Simple rules. Easy to follow. I could have fun as long as I followed them.

And it was fun. I’ve always liked teasing guys, ever since I noticed just how they’d look at my long legs or shapely ass when they thought I wasn’t looking. Or even when they knew I was. Those were my favorite, honestly. The men who wanted me so badly they weren’t afraid to show it. It only made me want to give them more. A glimpse of cleavage, a sway of the hips, a swipe of the tongue across my lips. The little things that would drive them up the wall without making me a slut.

Because I’m not a slut. I’d give them more, but not everything. That was the fun of it, wasn’t it? Being the unattainable girl, the ‘good’ one who’d never put out, the one who was oblivious about the power she held over the male gaze. I liked being her.

Posting on Reddit felt like a natural continuation. The users would know nothing about me except what the most private, sacred parts of me looked like. I’d show them my cunt, my ass, my lips, but they’d never get to have me. They’d jack off to their screens desperately, yearning for more even as they lobbed DM after DM at me. Asking, pleading, demanding me to show more. But they had no power over me. I was a ghost on the internet, as insubstantial as the bytes that formed my pictures.

Did I ever fantasize about losing control? Of course. Most girls do, I’d imagine, when it’s late at night and all they want is a man who can pin their arms above their head and fuck them so deep it feels as if you’re nothing but what he wants you to be, as if he’s remade you for his pleasure. But like most girls, I knew the difference between fantasy and reality. In my day to day life, I was more than a good girl. I was a successful one, well-educated and on track for a promising career. As much as I fingered myself to the thoughts of losing control, I’d never ever actually give in to them. I knew what was good for me.

To this day, I still don’t know how he found me. I don’t know if he knew me in real life and recognized me from something I posted, whether he was able to reverse-engineer some selfie I’d taken to triangulate my apartment, or whether he was just a fucking sorcerer. Whatever he was, he came in the night. I’m a light sleep, but it didn’t help. He was taller than me, stronger too. Just a silhouette in the darkness more than anything else. I opened my mouth to scream, and he shoved his hand in there to gag me. I bit down, but he was wearing gloves. It took only seconds for him to gag me, wrapping a plastic band around the back of my head and tightening it until he could force the rubber bit into my mouth. I don’t wear much to sleep. A tank top and panties and sweatpants, most of the time. He cut them away with something sharp. A boxcutter maybe, or maybe something a little less utilitarian. I squeezed my legs closed, but he parted them as easily as if I’d just been pretending to resist him.

And of course I was fucking dripping. Part of me still thought it was a dream. Part of me had to think it was still a dream. I wouldn’t actually get wet at the thought of someone invading my space, overpowering me and raping me on my own bed. I was getting wet because of the fantasy of it. That had to be it.

Whoever he was, he seemed amused more than anything. He’d remained silent the whole time, and I half expected him to talk. But he took out a phone instead, and I instantly started struggling again. I’d read enough erotica to know where this was going. Rape a girl, and you get your rocks off for one night. Take pictures of raping a girl, and you’ll get your rocks off for as long as she doesn’t want her life to be ruined. And I didn’t want my life to be ruined. Not really.

So I resisted. Then he slapped me. Not in the face, but squarely on my sex, and I stopped everything. Struggling, resisting, thinking. I’m sure I made a noise, but I wouldn’t know. The flash of the camera went off, once, twice, a third time. When he spread my legs again, I just whimpered into my gag and let him capture me exactly how I was. Defeated and humiliated and soaking wet because of it.

Idly, I wondered how much karma he’d get for it.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/uh3t6b/fun_but_harmless