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Author Topic: Perfect - a collaboration between Brokenwing and seeker  (Read 186 times)

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Offline seeker

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Perfect - a collaboration between Brokenwing and seeker
« on: April 06, 2021, 05:30:16 PM »
WARNING!    You must be 18 or over to read these stories of rape and non-consensual sex.  This story is all fiction and no characters in it are meant to resemble any real person.  If you do not understand the difference between reality and fantasy, read no more. Rape is a heinous crime and the penalty is many years in prison. The people who commit rape are despised everywhere. In addition, although persons of distinct nationalities, ethnicities, cultures or religions may be portrayed, no offense is meant to anyone.  This story is fiction and does not depict any actual person, business or event.

All characters are over the age of 18 when events unfold…

The following story is a collaboration between Brokenwing and Seeker.  We have mutually agreed that I may post this here. But I must acknowledge that this story is the product of Brokenwing’s incredible imagination and talent, with my writing support. For those of you who have read her works, you will see her fingerprints all over the story. For those who have yet to have the pleasure to discover her work, I urge you to find it. She is incredible...

Brokenwing is the inspiration for this story, and I am grateful to have collaborated with her on this amazing journey. We started writing over a year ago, during the height of the pandemic, and it is the first story I have collaborated and enjoyed writing to its conclusion before posting.

She is an admired friend, an incredible muse and a sublime writing mentor, who has guided me and improved my own writing in subtle and special ways. Her ability to reflect the horror and the humanity of the victim is unsurpassed. Some of you have commented on that in my other stories and it is her influence that has made them what they are.

Posting this complex, difficult and very long story here, is a tribute from me to a most special and talented writer. Thank you Brokenwing for sharing your time and energy with me to create what I think is one of our most special stories.

For those of you who appreciate context, Brokenwing posed the victim as Jessica Belkin (note everything that goes with that), with the context of a perfect life shattered...

We'd love your thoughts and comments on this very long psychological exploration as it unfolds...
"Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness of other people." Karl Jung.

Offline seeker

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Re: Perfect - a collaboration between Brokenwing and seeker
« Reply #1 on: April 06, 2021, 05:34:06 PM »
September 23

My Friends,

I just thought it was time to give you a new update since my last post.

So things have settled down a bit and I've been doing pretty well at getting to class on time.  I've still not made any decisions on a sorority as of yet but still have a few more rush parties to go to before trying to decide.

This definitely feels like a fresh start and I'm working hard to put the events of the last two years behind me.

I am proud of you mom and dad for finally going through with it and taking that dream vacation to Europe.

Part of me wishes I could go too but this is what I have worked for the last thirteen years of school.  To go to college, to find my passion and to get to know who I am, not the girl who my parents raised me to be, or the girl Jake worked so hard to mould me into.

But I swear I'm starting a new phase of my life.  A "me" phase where I live not to please mom and dad or Jake but where I live to please me.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

September 27

Hello friends,

Home, I need to be home.  Mom told me that if I wanted to come home and do laundry I could.

When she made the offer I laughed it off as a silly idea - the laundry room in the basement of the dorm is not such a dark and gloomy place.

Well okay it is but that's not why I just need to get away and go home.  And it will be much easier knowing that they’re in Europe and I won't have to see dad look at me with that look of unending disappointed.

But that's also not why I'm going home.

I always told myself I would stay away from the hot political issues.  I wouldn't pick a side on gun control, abortion or any of those issues.

But the pro-life activists have been really pushing hard and they have somehow managed to get pamphlets, brochures, photographs and even clothing, like girl's panties still wet with some blood like substance shoved into my books, my backpack and worst last night into my freshly washed and made up bed linens of my dorm room.

My roommate swears she didn't let them in and despite the fact we've been struggling to get along as you all know because of her partying that I've been avoiding, I cannot imagine she would let someone in to our room and she had a chemistry lab for 90% of the time the room was unoccupied.

So despite my absolute belief I'd have no reason to go home while they were gone, I've decided to get away from the overwhelming Pro-Life bombardment of the dorm.  At least for the weekend.



1
Friday 2:23pm

Jessica Ruby Bell was tired. She felt like her head would either explode or be engulfed in cotton wool. Neither would be pretty, she thought wryly. Driving five hours in busy traffic down the Turnpike would take it out of anyone. She felt she shouldn’t have to suffer like this. It was a cruel and unnecessary punishment. And she was special. Her life was supposed to be perfect. She was a princess. At least that’s what her father had told her since she was a toddler.
 
In her head, she replayed the last Facetime call she had with her parents, the week before, as they were packing for their trip. As always it left her with conflicting emotions, her deep love for them and their good intentions colliding with their passive aggressive critique of everything she did. She’d reconciled herself to it just being the way it was between a teen daughter and her parents.
 
“Hey Dad, you guys ready for your trip?” Half of her father’s face filling the screen, because he never aimed it right and always held the phone too close.
 
“Morning Princess. Yes, it’s tremendously exciting. Your mother’s just packing. See…” The image swinging wildly as it panned across the room towards a beautiful woman, wearing an elegant navy blue and gold chiffon dress with perfect matching blue heels, leaning over the bed as she folded clothes into two large suitcases.
 
“Hi Mum. How are you? You’re looking good.” Ruby shouted into the phone so her voice would carry across the room. “Those are pretty big suitcases.”
 
“Fine Dear. Thank you. Of course, they are big. We are going for a month and we need outfits for every occasion.” The woman spoke without looking up, enunciating every word as if she were giving elocution lessons. “Remember the time we took you to Paris? We had to change two or three times a day. And you can’t always trust those European laundries.”
 
“Sure Mum.” Ruby cringed as she recalled having to be dolled up for every occasion in a new outfit, at the insistence of her mother.
 
“I hope you are maintaining your beauty regime. Like I taught you.” Her mother’s tone always loaded with suspicion when asking about this topic. “As a woman, you can’t afford to let anything go.”

Those words made Ruby pause for a moment, as she had just quickly applied her makeup before the call.  While it was unlikely that her mum would pull herself away from her packing, Ruby still couldn't help tensing up a bit on the off chance that her mother might just come over and take the phone from her father to make some point to her daughter.  If she did, she would immediately spot that her daughter had skipped a few steps in her beauty regime and wasn't ready to go out or to be on a video call.
 
“Yeeeeeesssss, Muuuuum.” Intentional exasperation in her voice. But immediately brightening. “Stop packing for a minute so we can chat. I won’t see you for a whole month" she said, still pretty sure her mum would not be distracted.  How ironic that the more she asked her mum to come to the phone, the less likely that she would.
 
“I’m busy, Darling.” The straightforward reply. Not meant to hurt as much as it did, even though it was exactly what she'd expected. “Speak to your father. I’ll listen.”
 
The phone panned back to her father’s chin as he said in a mock conspiratorial whisper, loud enough for his wife to hear. “Don’t worry about her, Princess. She’ll chip in when she wants. You know she can hear everything.” Then shifting the conversation. “So, how’s school?”
 
“It’s good, Dad. Got an A for Creative Writing, and we have a Psych test this week. I’ve been studying hard, so it’ll be fine. I like Psychology, understanding the human mind and all that.” Happy to be onto safer ground with her father and academics, rather than the beauty and fashion topics that consumed her mother.
 
“Have you chosen a sorority yet?” Her mother called from the other side of the room.
 
“No, Mum. I’m rushing Chi-O, Kappa Delta and Pi Beta Phi.” Trying to keep it light, knowing the conversation was extremely loaded.
 
“You know I was at Pi Phi. I was hoping...” Came the response, as always.
 
“Yes, I know Mum, but it’s MY life.” She had to stand her ground now that she was in college. It couldn’t always be what her mother wanted.
 
There was an awkward silence for a couple of seconds before her father asked. “What are you doing for sport? Are you going to try out for the swim team?”
 
“Nuh uh. I want to focus on my studies.” She responded. “But I’m learning to surf. There’s a cool surf club at school.” Hoping that would pacify him.
 
“Really? Surfing? That’s not a sport, Princess.” His voice laden with disappointment. But then his tone brightened with a chuckle. “At least it’ll keep you fit. Just don’t become one of those beach bums.” Then with a whisper “… and wear sun cream. Your mother will have a fit if you burn your skin.”
 
“I heard that.” Her mother admonished. “I don’t know why you insist on doing these weird things, Darling.”
 
“I love the ocean and its creatures, Mum. It’s really important to me.” Her love of the sea had grown strongly over the past couple of years, being one of the main reasons that she had chosen a college on the coast. “Okay. I’ve got to run. Have a great trip.” A small wave into the phone camera.
 
“Be well, Princess. Keep those grades up, don't have too much fun.” Her father chuckled.
“We'll see you when we get back.  You have the number for the hotel if you need us, or in an emergency you can call the cell. But only in an emergency, those international calls are by the minute.”
 
“Bye-bye, my darling.” Her mother called “You’re welcome to come home on the weekends if you want. Do your laundry and keep a check on the house.”

Ruby let out an exhausted sigh when the call ended, she loved them both, but it had never been easy to be the perfect daughter as they expected, or well practically demanded.
 
Arriving at the front gate of her parents’ house, she pressed the remote and watched the heavy wooden gates slowly open inwards, feeling a bit better for being home. Driving up the long familiar driveway towards her parents’ house seemed to wash the frustrations of the drive away.

It always made her feel safe. The rolling manicured lawns with the rose gardens and hydrangeas her mother tended religiously would have felt at home with an English manor house. It was all so peaceful here out of the city. Suburban smallholdings, ‘four acers a property minimum’ the local association kept reminding the residents, particularly those who wanted to sub-divide.

Ruby loved the space and the quiet. It was her happy place. The place she went to relax, whether in her mind during meditation or physically like now to get away from the world. The big crazy horrible world with its despicable people.

She’d always loved rounding the last corner past the poplar grove and seeing the rambling stone house with its white rimmed windows. Double storied, multi-bedroomed and a gorgeous slate roof. Since she was a child, it was the roof that made her feel that it was a palace and she was the princess. Obviously, her doting father reinforced that belief and that just made her love her life in this sheltered sanctuary even more.

Parking by the porte cochère, she extended a black and white striped leg out of the car, perfectly defined by her designer tights, while carefully placing her matching white sneakers with the black stripes onto the cobbled driveway.  She extracted herself from the compact BMW and wandered up to the front door, enjoying the fragrances and colours of the fall border that flowers her mother had planted at the entrance.

Ruby took a deep breathe, like she did every time she unlocked the front door. The freshness of the air and the serenity of the surrounds always invigorated her soul and made her body sing.

As she entered, she expected to have to deactivate the alarm. But it was off. Strange, because Dad never left it off. Maybe the neighbours came to water the plants and forgot. That must be it. It wasn’t such a big deal anyway, because the electronic system always self-alarmed after a couple of hours once Dad had set it into holiday mode.

She didn’t worry about those sorts of things because her father did. She could never understand his obsession with security in this leafy suburb way out of the city. Bad things only happened in other places. Not in here.  But being her father’s daughter, she flicked it onto the Stay: Armed setting that locked all the doors and windows, as she entered the hallway. The double beep was unusual, but nothing to stress about because she was HOME ALONE. YAY!!

As she walked into the dark wood hallway, she glanced at herself in the full-length bevelled mirror with the gold-leaf frame that her mother adored. It was always the last thing she did before leaving, whether to the ballet, dinner or gym. ‘You must always look your best, dear.’ Words she had heard since she could talk.

The image that stared back at her was perfection. Long blond hair, draped straight to her chest, framing a perfect face with its straight nose, pale blue eyes, flawless complexion and the most kissable lips, which every man in her school and college dreamed about. Or so her friends teased her.

Moderate breasts perched on her slim frame, encased in an off-the-shoulder tight white top. Pleated in the front to accentuate her bust and spaghetti straps over her wide swimmer’s shoulders. Cropped to expose her flat toned stomach and cute belly button, swelling into slim hips and down to her long legs. The criss-cross of the strings joining her
stripped tights creating pretty patterns down her legs. She loved these tights, always naughtily wondering whether if someone pulled the end, they would just unravel like a knitted sweater leaving her clutching a couple of pieces of useless cloth to protect her modesty.

But despite how sexy she felt in these tights, she couldn’t forget her thighs. The bane of her life and her eating habits. Her mother was naturally slim and never seemed to worry about what she ate, but since puberty Ruby had been fighting the bulge of the upper thigh. Was that an extra inch she saw in the mirror?

Secretly she was happy Mum wasn’t home, to make her subtle comments. There would be no need to compare herself to a statuesque woman twice her age, and still feel inadequate. Ruby was subconsciously jealous of the way her mother could eat a horse without it landing anywhere, other than glamour and poise.

She shook off those conflicting thoughts and dropped her matching Louis Vuitton bag and purse on the hall table, smiling wryly at the source of the designer gift. Her latest boyfriend had bashfully given them to her after a weekend of rampant oral sex during which she had shown her oral devotion at least a dozen times. A record even for her, despite her love of giving blowjobs to make the guys she liked just feel great and avoid having to have sex. The relationships didn’t often last long, but at least she didn’t let them go any further.

Then standing indecisively in the hall. Whether to find something to eat after her marathon drive or to go and rest on the sofa in the lounge, in order to shake off her fatigue.

On the one hand, choosing between the dry carrots and wilted lettuce her mother was bound to have left her and the cookies she knew her father hid behind the pasta.

On the other, flopping feet up on the couch and vegging the way she wanted, since mum wasn’t there to grumble at her bad manners.

In a spit second, the couch won out, because it would be good for her figure to stay hungry for a while longer.  And anyway, acting out against mum felt way better.

As she strode into the lounge, she came face to face with a man sitting casually on the couch, shoes nonchalantly on the coffee table. As if he owned the place.

“Hello, Ruby. Welcome home.” He said with a cold edge to his voice, not the least welcoming.

“Who’re you? What’re you doing here? You’d better leave. Right now.” She blurted.

Questions, emotions and thoughts jumbling into her words. This was her house. He was the trespasser. She never even thought of running. He didn’t seem threatening. In fact, he seemed somehow familiar. But she couldn’t place him. Like running into a lesser-known movie star on the subway.

“Oh, don’t be like that. We’re here for the weekend. For a party.” Voice still casual, if with a hard edge.

“Who’s we? No... GET OUT! NOW!” Suddenly a little scared, so she yelled at a high pitch, her voice unsettlingly sounding several years younger, like a little girl’s.

“We’re your new friends, darling.” A voice behind her, chuckled menacingly.



"Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness of other people." Karl Jung.

Offline seeker

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Re: Perfect - a collaboration between Brokenwing and seeker
« Reply #2 on: April 06, 2021, 05:36:40 PM »
April 17 - Two years earlier.

Besties

This has been the most perfect year ever.  Since freshman year I can hardly believe I've managed to get all A's even in the AP classes in subjects I never thought I could ace, math and science.

I actually placed in a couple meets and even gold medaled in two.

My bestie friends, today I am declaring this a perfect year because I have been accepted by the number one summer swim program in the country.

Yes me, all 5 foot 4, mini me, have made one of the most prestigious swim programs.

As you all know, I've always been daddy's girl but when I got the acceptance letter I think it made me the apple of my daddy's eye.

When I got my first swim medal I thought he would blast off into outer space without a rocket ship.  I think it was the most proud of me he has ever been, that is before today when I opened my acceptance.

If you didn't know, dad was an Olympic level swimmer until an unfortunate injury took away his dream.

To be honest, as most of you know, I've never really taken competitive swim seriously.

I'm probably the furthest girl from being any type of competitive person and while I love what it's done for my tummy definition I'm hoping to avoid getting thunder thighs.

Mostly I swim, well because my dad would put me up for adoption if I quit and it gives me a way to try to stay thin so I don't look so fat when I'm standing by my mom, who still looks perfect like a supermodel without trying.

Now if only there was a way I could get taller so I could live up to mom's dream for me to follow in her footsteps as a model and actually get a real modelling job rather than the few junior print adds I've gotten.

If only I knew how to get some of Alice's cake from Wonderland, but I can't seem to find an email address for her.

But anyway, at least for today, I have lived up to one of my parents’ dream for me and this is the most perfect year ever!

-------

June 13, Two Years Earlier

It's only been one day since I boarded the airplane leaving home for the entire summer and I miss you all already.

Last night was nothing special just check in and speeches on the rules.

Today and every day except Sunday starts at six AM with swim practice.

It's funny because I was ready to freak out but I expected not to be the only one.  Oops these people are hard core fish.  By 6:30 AM we were at the pool and warming up.

I hope I'm not miserable here because all of these people are hard core competitive and I feel like a leprechaun compared to all of them, other than one other girl.  Other than her, I think she's one inch shorter than me, every other girl is 5 foot 8 or taller.  I don't think there is a guy here under six foot.

Not too surprising wearing makeup in the pool is not permitted even if the makeup is waterproof.  As you all know I'm not the type of girl who likes to go au naturelle.  So I feel like my every blemish and imperfection is on display for everyone at swim camp to see. 

Please don't judge, but of course my body just knowing I can't use concealer immediately decided to get a pimple at the tip of my chin.  I'm not going to be a happy camper, badahdump, pun intended, if I have a full break out.  As if it's not already bad enough I have these moles on my face. 

If only I would have known about the no-makeup rule before coming to camp.  I might have been able to get my mom to discourage me going to swim camp because of such a barbaric rule.  But ya can't change the past.

Practice for the first day was very intense.  I'm exhausted but I promised to let you all know I'm okay.

I hope I don't regret signing up for this. 

I'll try to update again in a few days.




2
Friday 2:48pm

Before she could turn around, a powerful hand wrapped around her slender neck. Ensuring that she could only face straight ahead, at the man reclining on the couch.  She wriggled to try and get loose, but he was squeezing too tight.  Instead, she was lifted her up onto her tip toes, feet scrabbling desperately on the rug. Arms flailing aimlessly with her increasing panic.
 
“Stop it… You’re hurting me… Let go.” She wheezed through her constricted breathing.
 
Vainly she tried to kick and claw, but he easily evaded her.  A firm slap landing on her backside. Not so much sore, as shocking. And disconcerting at how easily she was being manhandled, and how helpless it made her feel.
 
“Behave!” Growled from behind with another swat.
 
The fingers and thumb encircling the arteries in her neck tightened, restricting the blood to her brain. Her dainty hands scrabbled ineffectually at his as her vision narrowed, and the darkness of unconsciousness encroached. Her terror grew as she realised that she could do nothing about it.

She had never taken a formal self-defence class but had been taught a few things in school.  It was frightening how useless any of those things were.  With him holding her from behind she couldn't see let alone reach for his eyes.  She always kept medium long manicured nails, but the skin on his hands and arms was rough and he showed no reaction to any of her attempts, even when she tried to dig her fingernails into him. Except to lift her higher, making her take more of her own bodyweight with the pressure of his fingers pressed into her neck.  Like a puppet on a string.

“Stop phleeeeez. . .” She wheezed, gulping instinctively.

All she could do was to hold onto his hand, clutching her neck to try desperately to use her own strength to support at least some of her weight.  Her fine blond hair in disarray across her face, agitated by her feeble shuddering movements.

“When you stop struggling… It’s up to you.” He countered evenly, as if they were having a cordial conversation.

All that kicking at him with her feet achieved was to cut off her air even more.  The very tips of her shoes were the only thing keeping her entire body weight from being hung from his perfectly placed fingertips and hands.

“Hhhuuuuuggghh.” It felt like she was choking, and he didn’t care.
 
Then hauling her like a dangling puppet, until they were in front of the other man. Ruby presented for his inspection. The hand relaxed slightly, letting her drop onto the balls of her feet, allowing her to breathe. Relief.

“See, it’s better when you don’t resist.” Like a teacher repeating a lesson to a recalcitrant student.
 
The man in front of her looked rough in every way. Sprawled on the couch, black sneakers propped on the antique coffee table in a manner her mother would never have allowed.  He wasn’t ugly, but his heavy jaw and large forehead gave him a brooding thuggish look, accentuated by the stubble on his shaven head and the scar on his chin. The too-tight white tee-shirt and faded blue jeans with a large silver scull Harley-Davidson belt buckle, clothed his hard-muscled body and completed his rough image, contrasting dramatically with the beautiful décor of her mother’s lounge.
 
It was very unlikely that he would have been invited into this house as a guest, under any circumstances.  Possibly as a workman, but then he wouldn’t be making himself at home, in such an entitled manner. That thought ricocheted around Ruby’s head, agitating her and making her even more concerned about what would happen.
 
“Very pretty. I see what he saw in her.” Talking to the other man as if she wasn’t there, objectifying her.

Lecherously ogling her. His eyes tracing her body, undressing her from her toes up her slender legs, pausing at her crotch accentuated by the stretch tights, across her exposed belly to stop again to take in her tightly encased breasts.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Her confidence returning with her breathing.

And then looking her in the eyes like a predator, about to devour its pray. No compassion in that face, only cruelty and distain.

“We’re going to get to know each other. While our friends are busy looking around your lovely home.” His features showing nothing friendly.
 
“Please don’t hurt me. Take whatever you want. . . Just leave me alone.” Despite her attempt to sound strong, to be brave, she felt so pathetic, so weak.

And what did he mean by his ‘friends’. Were there more of these uncouth men in her house? Why were they here? So many thoughts and so few answers. Just riddles spat out at her by this scary man.
 
“Why’d you think we want to hurt you?” The menace dripping from his tone didn’t give her any comfort. “We just want to have some fun.” Nasty smile giving the words a different meaning.
 
“What. . . what do you mean?” She asked, whining as her mind scrambling to try to guess what they meant by the word ‘fun’.
 
“He means, we just wanna play with you, sweetie.”
 
The man holding her by the neck leaning in to whisper in her ear, his voice soft and almost comforting. But for the words and the finger trailing down her cheek. . . over her lips, instilled a deep sense of dread in the young woman.  It seemed surreal how easily he held her body by the neck and she felt more vulnerable than she’d ever felt in her life.
 
“Please don’t. . .”
 
Ruby tried to turn around to look at him, but her neck was being held too tightly. She was too scared to resist. The finger traced down her throat, circling gently on her exposed upper chest above the cinched crop top. In another circumstance the act would be caring, almost erotic. But here it was just plain threatening, especially as he carried on trailing his hand down over the swell of her breast, across the thin stretch material to the faint bump of her nipple. A quietly hummed “Hmmm. . . Nice.”
 
“No! Stop it. . . please?”
 
Her hands trying to push his away, to preserve her privacy. They were her breasts, her body. Not for someone else to help themselves to, uninvited.

“Stoooo. . .”

In that instant, she felt the hand on her neck slide around to clasp her throat and pull her body against his, cutting off her words. Her head pinned to his chest and his pincer fingers tightening so she couldn’t breathe.  Panic coursed through her body.

“Shhhh. Don’t talk.” He whispered as if comforting her, not strangling her.
 
She thought she was going to die. Scratching and kicking, to no avail. Her consciousness being taken away, so easily.

“Hhhhuu.” Trying unsuccessfully to get some air into her burning lungs.

This time he held her writhing until she weakened and fell limp, the blood supply to her brain temporarily shut off. He loosened his grip and she revived within a couple of seconds, terrified and nauseous. Finding his hands still on her neck and her breasts, and hers clinging onto them.
 
“Put your hands down. . . Unless. . .” The murmuring in her ear was now menacing in its tone and modulation. The warning undeniable.
 
She dropped them meekly, not wanting a repeat of that horrific feeling. His hand casually resumed its exploration of her nipple.  First circling it and then pinching it gently through her top, causing the small nub to instinctively harden and tent the material.

“You liking that? Hmm?” His smug voice whispering like it was in her head.
 
Ruby blushed and bit her lip, ashamed of her body’s reaction and her powerlessness. She couldn’t stop the unwanted sensations from her nipple sending shivers down her back, pinned as she was against this unseen man.  She was distracted by the thought that his touch on her breast and nipple felt so intense, amplified by the fear and anticipation at how easily he could stop her from breathing.

“No. . .” She murmured back, unconvincingly.

Despite her every will to ignore how it felt, her body did just the opposite.  Regardless of her disgust for them both, she realised that they could see how much she felt the sensations. Which caused her to feel like she was blushing even more, her face glowing hot, if that was possible.
 
“This tells me otherwise.” Nipping the hard nub between thumb and finger.

She stared stoically at the picture hanging on the wall behind the couch. A portrait of her father, smiling down benignly at the scene unfolding in the room. Ruby tried to get strength from it, from her father who always demanded she be strong and dignified. She wasn’t sure how she’d be able to do either, but she’d try. Despite his quiet disapproval, a feeling that had crept into their relationship over the past year.
 
“Take your top off.”
 
Her gaze dropped in disbelief to the man who had spoken, staring unsympathetically back at her from his vulgar posture on the couch. She shook her head subconsciously.
 
“What… no… I can’t.” She pleaded desperately, her hands reflexively covering her breasts.
 
“Julio. . .” A single word and a nod to the man behind her.
 
Like a garrotte the hand tightened again, but this time even firmer. Her fear was worsened by knowing what to expect.  She struggled helplessly as her air and consciousness were snuffed out.

When she recovered, coughing and heaving, she was in exactly the same situation with no escape. But now her throat was bruised and sore.
 
“I want to see your tits. You’ve got twenty seconds. . .”
 
Cruel unforgiving eyes glared. Challenging her to resist. Willing her to submit.

She’d never felt so scared, vulnerable or embarrassed in her life.  How was it that a man was strong enough to hold onto a girl with one hand so she couldn't get away? But even worse, he was able to just tighten his grip and stop her from breathing, taking away her consciousness. That was truly terrifying.

“Okay. . . Please don’t hurt me again.” Her whining voice sounding so pitiful.
 
Eyes downcast, Ruby slipped her left arm out of her top and then slowly pulled it up her torso, hesitating when the hem reached her breasts.  But then steeling herself, persuading herself that this was better than being suffocated, or worse. Revealing her braless white mounds with their small pink nipples, erect from the cold, her fear and his stimulation.

Then pausing at the hand that was still around her throat. Before removing it altogether when he released her, her hair seeming to want to hold onto the material as she pulled it over her head. Just like she wanted to but couldn’t.
 
She stood there, blushing crimson, her left arm pressed modestly across her chest.  Right hand dangling uncertainly, holding the top.  Staring at the floor, not sure what to do next, but not wanting to know either. Feeling the tears of shame and frustration welling in her eyes, blinking bravely. Trying not to show them her fear and weakness.

“Show me your tits. Play with them. Like you do when you’re frigging yourself.” Leering at her, using such vulgar language.
 
She couldn’t bring herself to do it. To expose herself in such an intimate way. Mumbling pitifully, she pressed her hands to her breasts. “Please... Don’t make me.”

She wasn't sure if there could be a more humiliating feeling than having to expose her private body parts to the two men, two strangers that were intent on embarrassing her.  Especially when she had barely even let her girlfriends see her topless in the locker room at school, or even at a sleepover playing truth or dare.

Her parents had always encouraged her to cover up and keep her dignity.  She would get fussed at for walking around at home in only her night clothes - typically at tank top and flimsy shorts - without wearing a robe.

So, for these two brutes to ask her, no to tell her to stand there without covering her body, sent so many confusing thoughts and feelings throughout her body.

It felt like they were looking at her through a microscope and seeing every pimple, mole, dark patch and flaw on her body. She was hyper-conscious of her pale skin and the way any blemish was highlighted. And this experience was just too mortifying for her young, sheltered mind to comprehend.

She loved her family's home, but she wished she was anywhere else right then. She’d driven so many hours to get away from the stresses of college, from the rumours and being judged.  Home, especially her room, was her private oasis. Where she could escape from her family and friends.  Where she could avoid the judgement of others and just relax, unwind and think, or not think.  Just be herself.

Yet now, after the long journey home, with her parents traveling in Europe, she thought she'd have the whole house to herself.  But she had not even made it to her room before being grabbed by these men.  Desecrating the home that she had always thought was the safest place in the world. Away from spite and criticism, from threat or harm.

Yet here she was almost completely exposed in front of two monstrous men.
 
“Listen to me clearly... I want... to see… your tits… NOW! You don’t want to make me angry.”
 
The man on the couch sat forward, staring intently at her, speaking as if to a child.  The young defenceless girl that she felt like in front of them. She timidly shook her head but didn’t say anything.  Nor did she move her protective arm. Looking like a deer in the headlights.
 
Shaking his head in exaggerated disappointment. “Julio...”
« Last Edit: April 07, 2021, 12:16:49 AM by seeker »
"Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness of other people." Karl Jung.

Online TheYellowKnight

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Re: Perfect - a collaboration between Brokenwing and seeker
« Reply #3 on: April 06, 2021, 05:41:20 PM »
There isn't a wasted word when you two get together.  Everything is so thoughtfully constructed and meaningful.  Thank you for posting this for all of us to enjoy.

Offline CheerCaptain18

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Re: Perfect - a collaboration between Brokenwing and seeker
« Reply #4 on: April 06, 2021, 11:13:56 PM »
What a captivating format!  Instead of advancing the narrative, the snippets of social media style posts only deepen the mystery to me through it's timeframes.  It's got me hooked on the what and where and how, along with the slow reveals of character development I think.  I can only imagine there are shocking surprises around the corner.

Offline vile8r1

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Re: Perfect - a collaboration between Brokenwing and seeker
« Reply #5 on: April 06, 2021, 11:39:35 PM »
Oh, I love it, seeker, that you have decided to post this awesome story here as well!   :fap:  As the title says....Perfect! 

Offline AlphaDog

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Re: Perfect - a collaboration between Brokenwing and seeker
« Reply #6 on: April 07, 2021, 11:22:50 PM »
A fine twist on the home invasion scenario.  Can't wait to witness the creativity about to be unleashed here.

Offline Kylie

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Re: Perfect - a collaboration between Brokenwing and seeker
« Reply #7 on: April 08, 2021, 02:41:24 AM »
Very smart writing.   Brokenwing is one of my favorites too.

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Re: Perfect - a collaboration between Brokenwing and seeker
« Reply #8 on: April 08, 2021, 03:29:13 AM »
Thank you all for such encouraging comments. We really appreciate the support and hope that this tale continued to enthrall.

++++++++++++++++++

June 19, Two Years Earlier

BFFs

Sorry I haven't posted more but I never could have imagined any type of summer camp being this structured and intense.

In my last post I neglected to share that I had a roommate since these are dorm rooms, but maybe it's good that I didn't because my first roommate's name was Mary, but Mary is now in a different room and my new roommate is Chantelle.  Chantelle is from Jackson Mississippi and has a crazy amazing athletic body.  She's six foot tall and her wingspan is ridiculous.  Mom and dad would love her because she’s frequently reading her Bible.  She's starting college in the fall so I always feel like she’s looking at me like a little kid.

Between practice sessions we have been in a variety of meetings.  Even though we were required to have a physical to come here we all had an exam and interview with medical staff.  I know one was a doctor, another a nurse and I'm not sure of the third person's role, but I had a very complete exam and I think I was asked more personal questions by the three of them then any truth or dare game I ever played with any of you.

They took blood, and a urine sample, they asked us to bring back a stool sample, they did a Pap smear, asked us questions about our recent menstrual cycle and when it first started.  They even took a DNA swab from our cheek and asked me about my sexual history including weird things I either didn't know or hadn't thought about.  I have now been tested for STDs and AIDS, even though I'm not sexually active, and haven’t been!

They asked about kissing, who, how many, age started and talked about Mono and I even found out cold sores are a type of herpes.  I was a little bit embarrassed, but they seemed so cold and serious, after a while it just went so fast it felt more clinical then personal.  Most of you know the three boys I've kissed and, yes, okay, I admitted to having practiced kissing one of my girlfriends, you know who you are.

Probably the most embarrassing part was having to admit that while I maybe kind of tried to do a self-breast exam, I have now been taught how to do one properly in the presence of the three of them.

Ewww yes they even made me confess to masturbation and for those of you like me who's parents make you feel like it's a mortal sin, they actually pushed that it's healthy and good for you, as long as you wash your hands first, like it’s a normal human practice.  And I'm not telling you all that I admitted, or at least do not believe that I’ve achieved the big "O".

But enough about that.

They can and will do random blood tests and urine samples, as if we are doping.  We will also be placed on a daily regimen of vitamin and supplements based on our bloods. Its crazy.

And I have to tell you all modesty about my body is slowly oozing away.  I have already been given several various swimsuits and a variety of camp t-shirts, cover ups, robes, even sun dresses, gym shorts, tank tops and I'm sure I'm forgetting to list a few.

After each practice period in the pool we are required to shower off, dry off and put-on dry clothing.

I felt modest and exposed in the locker and shower room in school, but that was practically full privacy compared to here.

More girls, other campers and staff, have seen me in various stages of undress here then I even could have counted. And mom and dad, sorry but don't get upset, I promise it feels, well at least semi normal, but the male coaches sometimes just walk by when we are in various stages of dress.

The first time a girl protested we all got put on notice to get over it that we're all here with one goal and focus, and that is swim.  I try to stay covered as much as I can, but we change so often that you do just start to forget and get over it.

And oh my gosh, I thought I was flexible, but um no, at least not to their standards. Between the trainers and the coaches I have been stretched by more people in this one week than I think have ever helped me stretch before I came here, in my entire life.

Warmups here are even intense and they are very serious about stretching, to avoid pulling a muscle, ligament or tendon. The first several times I was stretched it was by female trainers or coaches but on Wednesday it was a male trainer and on Friday it was one of the male coaches.

You're not the only one being stretched so after a while you stop feeling self-conscious.  Like everything else, it's just intense and stops feeling weird.

Our food choices are also super limited and towards the end of the week based on our testing (blood, DNA) they started limiting our food choices even more.

We wake when they want, eat when and what they want, stretch like they want, wear what they want, change clothes when they want, take medications, vitamins and supplements that they want, and sleep when they want.  Apparently, roommates are assigned based on the swim events they choose for you, so we were all told to get used to roommate changes.  I can't say I've made a single friend so far.  So much time is spent stretching, training, in classroom watching films, that there's little social time.

You can sit by who you want for meals, but I've just found a familiar face and sat there, names I'm still learning.

Sometimes it even feels like we go to the toilet on queue.

The good thing is everything has been so structured that I've been either too busy or too tired to have my feeling hurt.

Friday night we did get to watch a movie that they picked for us, but several of us fell asleep before the end.

So that's my life.  Yes I've read some of your posts and am replying best as I can by DM.  Please if I didn't reply, know that it's not by choice but from exhaustion.

Will post again as soon as time allows.





Chapter 3

Friday 3:12pm

In that moment, Ruby recalled another time in that room. Not as ominous, but just as embarrassing. Or so she thought…

Janet was one of those friends who one is drawn to, like a moth to a flame. A force of nature that drags everyone and everything along with it. They had known each other since kindergarten, their parents were friends and they lived one street over. As little girls, they had played together, happily unconcerned about anything but what they were doing at the time, whether storytelling with dolls in their bedrooms or climbing trees in the garden.

It was only when they reached puberty that their differences emerged. Janie loved the limelight, loved that boys and even men looked at her with a quiet hunger. She intentionally wore the tightest clothes, practiced moves that were intended to provoke attention and perfected an almost perpetually pouty expression.  Her dark hair, olive skin, long limbs and voluptuous figure were in stark contrast to Ruby’s own pale complexion and petite body.

Being gorgeous, popular and wealthy, she’d sailed into being a cheerleader, not wanting to play sports, but rather be appreciated for how she looked and pranced on the side lines of the varsity football team.  Janie had tried to persuade Ruby to try out for cheerleading squad, but the thought of being exposed to all those eyes gave her an instant knot in her stomach and she’d refused, hiding behind her need to prioritise swimming.

Despite their divergent paths, they’d remained close friends, at least at home, spending time with each other two afternoons a week. Ruby helped Janie with her homework in subjects she struggled with, while Janie tried to get Ruby to be more interested in boys. Already being sexually active, Janie would describe what she did on her dates, in hushed tones so their parents wouldn’t hear. Ruby would giggle awkwardly in excited shock with each new revelation about boys they both knew, and the things Janie would do with them.

Occasionally Janie would make her watch porn videos explaining what was going on, as if she were an authority on all things sexual. Other times, they would watch online videos of women revealing themselves, talking dirty or even dancing for their webcams. Ruby always blushed but didn’t want Janie thinking she was a prude or something. Janie loved to push her friend, relishing her flustered but intrigued expression.

It was one afternoon when they were home alone in her parent’s lounge, after watching a particularly raunchy strip by an online cam girl, that Janie had done her own strip dance in time to the pounding music and filming herself on her phone camera. She’d even claimed with a naughty giggle that she would post it… maybe for this older guy that liked her videos… ‘for years’ she whispered with a wink that made Ruby’s eyes widen in shocked amazement.

“Come on Rubes. Your turn.” Her half naked friend challenged. Ruby didn’t know where to look with her friend wearing only the tiniest G-string panties, her full round breasts and large dark nipples shaking with her every move. “It’ll be fun.”

“Mm mmm.” She responded, not able to form words, her face flushing bright red with discomfort at her friend’s nakedness. The thought of doing the same and someone seeing her was mortifying. “I couldn’t... I don’t… No.”

“Don’t be a feeb. Come on. No-one’ll see it.” Her friend’s exasperation obvious in her tone. “Okay, I won’t even film you.”

Ruby’s heart sank because she knew how this always ended. Janie got her way… she always got her way with Ruby, even when Ruby didn’t want to do something. That was just the way it worked… Ruby would resist, and Janie would persist…

When they were younger it was Janie that made Ruby push her boundaries, like climb way too high, sneak out at night after curfew, steal a sip of her father’s liquor, practice French kissing so that she’d be ready for a boy…

True to form, ten minutes later, Ruby was swaying self-consciously and clumsily in time to the music of a girl on the TV, taking off her top and then shimmying out of her shorts, leaving her in her plain white bra and panties.

She felt just so inadequate in comparison to Janie, who was confidently displaying her body without a care in the world. But she couldn’t let Janie down…

“Wooooo… looking good.” Janie yelled encouragingly, shaking her breasts sultrily in time to the beat. “Get it off… get it off…”

With a deep sigh, Ruby reluctantly unclipped the front clasp of her bra, letting it hang disconsolately from her shoulders as her pert breasts popped loose. Breasts that were so much smaller, perkier and paler than her friend’s, causing her to flush even more and hold her arms across them, mortified by the entire ordeal.

That day she never did uncover her breasts, despite Janie’s appeals. It was a step too far, even with her friend’s influence. She had turned and dressed sheepishly, tears moistening her eyes in frustration at her own insecurities.

Despite her apparent failure, Janie had been so cool about the whole thing, hugging her supportively and telling her how awesome she was. And never mentioning it again, nor trying to make her strip on film… ever.


Now here she was in the same room, in the same position, but instead of being with her caring friend, she was standing in front of an unsympathetic man, who didn’t seem to be nearly as understanding.

She’d almost forgotten about the man behind her but hearing his name she turned anxiously. Julio struck incredibly fast, grabbing her round the neck once again. Glowering down at her, she saw him for the first time.

He was darkly handsome, with a strong clean-shaven jaw, thick black hair swept back off his forehead, cold eyes that had seen too much. Tall and lean, dressed in a golf-shirt and chino’s, he looked like he should be going to the country club, not hanging out with the brute on the couch.

She thought she knew him, that his face was just so familiar. And then it struck her, he looked like a slightly older Taylor Lautner. Her crush from the Twilight saga, who she would have melted for, if given the chance. Looking into his face threw her, especially as this man had been so mean to her. Nothing like she imagined the actor to be in her naughty daydreams. But maybe…

“I tried to warn you. It’s best to do what you’re told.” Now she could make out his Bronx accent, matching his Italian looks.
 
He frowned as he half-choked her one-handed, like he didn’t really want to have to do it. Both of her hands grasped futilely his wrist.  He patted her cheek patronisingly as he shook his head. It seemed even more frightening, looking into the stern face of her tormentor, as her eyesight faded, to black…
 
And then coming around again, looking into his face. Him smiling as he released her neck. And then feeling his hands on her breasts, groping them hard. Realising they were naked and exposed as he pinched both nipples, sending jabbing pain through her chest. Her hands hanging uselessly at her sides.  Her previous resistance in vain, just causing her pain. Her modesty stripped uncaringly away as she was distracted by her fainting... his actions… his looks… his complete control over her body and its functioning.
 
“You gonna do what Joe says from now on? I don’t wanna have to hurt you no more.”
 
Ruby nodded, defeated, her eyes welling in frustration.  Julio released her nubs with a final twist. She instantly caressed her sore mounds with her dainty fingers, trying to soothe them. But they continued to sting, incessantly…
 
“Yeah. That’s right, babe. Turn and face me. . . Play with your nipples.” Joe instructed with a sneer, loving how quickly and unconsciously she had capitulated. His eyes drinking in her firm pale flesh, a hint of redness spreading where Julio had mauled her.
 
She didn’t dare tell him that she wasn’t playing with her breasts for him. That they were sore, that was all. But she reticently did what he said, rolling her index finger over the erect buds and around the goose-bumped areola, while she palmed the flesh. Overwhelmed with shame and dismay and horror at what she was being made to do… with no hope of respite or rescue.

“What do you think, Julio. Sweet rack… but they could be bigger.” Sneering as he objectified her, undermining on her self-confidence, targeting the things that she was most aware of as a woman...

She’d always thought she had nice breasts, not well-endowed, but pretty-well-shaped mounds. Even though she’d been teased about them by other girls at school, because most of the boys seemed to ogle the big-breasted girls, not hers.

Now here she was. His comment took her straight back to the insecure schoolgirl who wished they would grow bigger, like her mother’s boobs.

“Haha. Still enough for a handful… or a mouthful.” Julio chuckled beside her.

She hated the way that they made her feel so small and insignificant, even when she was doing what they wanted. She really was doing her best... They wanted to see her boobs and now they were criticising them. Or at least the horrible guy was. The other one sort of complimented her in a backhanded way.
 
“Dribble onto your tits, gorgeous.” Joe leered her soft young skin, wanting to make her humiliate herself even more. He loved tormenting her, making her realise how weak she really was, how powerless to do anything about her fate.
 
“That’s gross.” The words tumbled out. Then realising what she had said, she glanced left at Julio, moving away to her right, hands still holding her pert twin orbs. “Please. . . don’t make me.”
 
This time he didn’t move, just sighed and pulled out a switchblade from his back pocket, flicking it open in the same movement.
 
“Come back here, sweetheart.” Julio coaxed, his voice gentle but made menacing by the sudden appearance of the knife. “I’m trying to help you.”
 
Terrified she ran. If she could get out the front door, she could find help. Maybe get to her car. Her tits jiggled freely as she sprinted, her face a mix of desperation and determination.  She was quick and as she fled out of the door, she glanced back to see the two men had not moved.  They were watching her intently, but now she had a head start. Her heart pounded with hope as she dashed down the hallway past the mirror and her bag, seeing neither in her haste. Her only thought, to get to the front door. She was there, turning the handle…
 
Instead of running after her Julio glanced at Joe with a smirk and walked leisurely after her. She heard each of his unhurried footsteps as if he were not concerned about catching her.  Ruby was still trying to get the door open as he strode up behind her. Scrabbling at the handle to unlock it and escape to freedom, but it was stuck. It never stuck…
 
“Tsk. . . Tsk. . . Tsk. You’re being a very bad girl.” His voice was weirdly calm, almost gentle.

Why hadn't the door opened?  It made no sense. She had turned the handle and pulled like normal. The electric lock should have released from the inside.  She didn’t have time to think further because he grabbed her.

The grip of his fist in her hair was anything but gentle. He twisted her around, towering over her, pulling her head back so she had to look up into his cold eyes.

He whispered threateningly, shaking his head sadly. “And bad girls are punished! You brought this on yourself.”
 
Julio traced the tip of the knife over Ruby’s breast, around the nipple and then up towards her throat. She started hyperventilating, fear coursing through her veins. Frozen in place, her naked breasts pushed up and out, as if presenting themselves for attention, or punishment.

She’d never had a knife pulled on her. Sheltered girls like her weren’t exposed to things like this. They weren’t supposed to be.  Someone coming into your home and threatening you... that happened on TV and in the news. Not in her suburb.
 
Terrified, she meekly complied when Julio pulled her by her hair, into the lounge to stand once again, half naked in front of Joe.  Neither man said anything, but Julio returned the tip of the blade to her right nipple, poking it into the raised bud and causing a sharp stabbing pain.

“You shouldn’t have run. Now Julio has to hurt you again.” Joe’s voice cold, merciless and uncompromising.
 
“Please don’t. . . I’m sorry. . . Pleeeeeaaaaaaase.”

The tip broke the pale skin just below the nipple, causing a small bead of blood to well out. Panting in panic to make him stop.

“I’ll do whatever you want. See. . .”
 
Ruby let a dribble of saliva drip between her lips to land on her breast just above the nipple and run over the pale skin, mingling with the drop of blood.  She eagerly grabbed her breasts and mauled them, smearing the pink trickle into her skin like a deviant lotion. Her eyes darting frantically between the men. Hoping it would be enough.

“That’s better.”
 
As he spoke, Julio’s knife softly trailed down to her hip, slipping under the criss-crossed strings holding the front and back of her striped tights together. He grinned at her as his razor-sharp blade cut the stings one at a time.
 
“Wait. . .” She pleaded, dropping her hands to the waistband of her tights, attempting to hold them up.
 
“Put your fucking hands back on your tits.” Joe’s harsh words shocked her, forcing her to reluctantly obey. “And pinch your nipples hard for disobeying.”

She looked at him in horror. Hurting herself, because she didn’t want to be stripped. Was he some kind of monster? No, he was the devil. Everything in her screamed to rebel, but the knife and the threat of more pain subdued her. So, she did as he instructed, wincing as she pinched herself. Not very hard, but sore enough to send a sharp stab into her breast.

“Harder.” He snapped, “Make them hurt. Twist them.”

Ruby took a deep breath, gritted her teeth and inflicted agony on her own breasts. She felt so helpless and weak, but the knife and the vicious way they were treating her made her fear for her safety. If she did what they wanted, maybe they wouldn’t hurt her. She wanted to get through this and all the advice she had ever heard when face with a situation like this, was ‘to cooperate’ and ‘not to fight’.

“Good. Next time it will be worse.” A self-satisfied smile on his face as he lay back to enjoy the show. “Carry on fondling yourself. I can see you like it.”
 
Groping her own breasts half-heartedly as she felt her favourite tights being destroyed.  Julio had cut the strings down to the knee on her right side, causing the skin-tight material to partially fall away, exposing her tiny panties and the thin string holding them together at her hip.

“Hold still, otherwise I might cut you. By accident.”
 
Forcing her to look up at him, hand firmly gripping her hair, he grinned as he slipped the blade under her panties, grazing her skin so she flinched instinctively and cried out “Please…’ but no more about the nature of her plea.  Julio sliced the side string open, exposing her hip, thigh and lower belly, divulging that there was not a hint of hair on her crotch.
 
A whimper escaped through her parted lips as she felt the cool air tickle her mons, shamefully imagining what it must look like to Joe on the couch.
 
“Like unwrapping a Christmas present.” Julio taunted.

Spinning her around, to face away from the couch, revealing the top of her firm buttocks to Joe’s lustful gaze. He proceeded to slice the strings on the other side of her tights. The material falling away inch by slow inch, causing her flush of embarrassment to rise with the grand reveal.

Her shapely pale cheeks coming into Joe’s view, the firm round peach cleft by her crack sliced perfectly down to the enticing gap between her thighs. The one side of her panties still holding, causing the flimsy white material to flutter on her waist like a surrender flag.
 
“Phat ass.” She was not sure if he meant ‘fat’ or ‘phat’, but regardless she felt like Joe was dissecting her body as if she were a school biology project.

“I like it a bit chunky.” Julio temporarily halted his cutting to pinch her bottom, playfully but with enough force to draw a yelp.

“Owwww. . . Dooooon’t, please.” As he flicked her exposed flesh with his index finger.

“Don’t worry. We’ll play nice.” Rubbing the skin on her bottom as if to soothe it.
 
He resumed slicing her tights and only stopped when he reached the knee, returning to her hip and the last vestige of her modesty. A casual flick with his knife and the dainty underwear slid off, sticking momentarily on her loins before gravity pulled it down her leg to pool on the tights trapped around her left knee. She was left naked from the knees up, her round hips and buttocks on display.

“I recon she’s got a bit too much meat on her thighs. Maybe she needs a diet?” Again, Joe making derogatory comments.

This time it hurt her deeply, as he exposed a raw nerve. The reason she’d spent all that time in the pool, trying to keep slim and toned. She couldn’t help it if she was petite and her hips wanted to be all womanly.

“Good to grab hold, man. Need something when riding a small filly like her.” Julio responding with a chuckle, running his fingers over the naked hips that were now the centre of all of their attention.
 
She stared at the door that she had thought was her way to freedom, through tear filled eyes. The shame of being stripped and insulted in front of these men was more than she could bear. Why was this happening to her? What had she done to deserve it?
 
Julio then pushed her over to bend at the waist, possessively slipping a finger into her slit while still holding the knife. Finding it dry, he slapped her a couple of times on the backside with the flat side of the blade, leaving red stripes on her pale skin and fear in her quaking heart.

“We’ll have to do something about that, sweetheart.” He chuckled.

Then spinning her around to face Joe, her recently waxed pubis exposing her sex and her further humiliation.
 
“I see you shaved yourself. Just for us.” Joe jeered. “I love to play with a bald pussy.”

Ever since puberty, she had waxed herself. First at her mother’s insistence that she always be groomed and that ‘a little pain was sometimes the price of beauty’, and she needed to be neat down there for the skin-tight swim wear she had to wear. And later because it just felt better and cleaner. But that was for her, not the enjoyment of these awful men.

“But first you’re going to play with it. I want it wet.” The vulgar command from the uncouth man on the couch. Uninvited and unwanted, but here all the same and going nowhere soon as far as she could tell.
"Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness of other people." Karl Jung.

Offline PixieMILF

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Re: Perfect - a collaboration between Brokenwing and seeker
« Reply #9 on: April 08, 2021, 11:04:20 PM »
My gawd!  This writing is so hot!
I love that you are using her insecurities to fuel the innocence to her ravishment.

How did you get the idea to use her diary-like messages to convey her inner soul and vulnerabilities?

Offline seeker

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Re: Perfect - a collaboration between Brokenwing and seeker
« Reply #10 on: April 09, 2021, 12:48:51 AM »
My gawd!  This writing is so hot!
I love that you are using her insecurities to fuel the innocence to her ravishment.

How did you get the idea to use her diary-like messages to convey her inner soul and vulnerabilities?

Thank you. Brokenwing and I love the psychological exploration of inner turmoil, innocence facing dark desires and this story brings that to the fore.

The diaries where Brokenwing's brilliance, allowing Ruby's character development in a simpler time while being an integral part of the story as it unfolds.
"Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness of other people." Karl Jung.

Offline SkyAngel

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Re: Perfect - a collaboration between Brokenwing and seeker
« Reply #11 on: Today at 12:24:46 AM »
I love this!!
I too have an actual personal diary I've kept on my trips that chronicle everything,  my day to day,  my dating life,  my insecurities,  etc.  It's perfect fodder for a story backdrop,  but I'm having such writers block on how to incorporate it into a story idea I've fantasized about for ages.  You're inspiring me to figure it out.

Offline Shocker

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Re: Perfect - a collaboration between Brokenwing and seeker
« Reply #12 on: Today at 08:14:02 AM »
As stated before this is excellent work, an$ im not sure what intrigues me more, the diary entries  or Rubies current predicament.

 

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