it’s my fault, you’d tell me. for being such a teasing slut. for flashing you and your friends as you drank beers in the parking lot next door, whistling and cheering me on. for doing that dance with my tits pressed against the glass, hips swaying, hands roaming, lips pouting. i had this coming, we both knew it. so why was i surprised that night i left the window open?
you’d waited patiently for me to fall asleep, stroking your cock as you watched me play with myself before bed. when i finally came i pulled my small pyjama shorts back up, left my top mostly undone, and drifted off quite quickly. now was your moment.
you crept in, stealthily grabbed a thong from my laundry, and pounced on the bed. before i could scream you were over top of me, and had shoved the panties into my mouth, muffling any cries as you held them down firmly.
“quiet now,” you whispered menacingly, “we wouldn’t want mommy and daddy to have to find out how much of a naughty little whore their daughter is”