EVELYN

How he somehow knew about the private conversation Dad and I had still baffled me. I hadn’t seen or heard anything that suggested he was eavesdropping, yet he knew every word. The thought made my stomach churn. How much had he heard? Did he know the full truth? My mind raced as I tried to piece it together.

I stood in front of my dressing mirror, staring at my reflection. My fingers gently traced the faint red imprint on my cheek from the two slaps he had given me earlier. My skin felt tender, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear that gripped my chest. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I forced them back. I hated feeling powerless, yet here I was, consumed by dread over what he might do next. Despite my fear, the guilt over lying to him gnawed at me. I only did it to protect Dad, to save him from losing everything. I told myself that repeatedly, as though it might somehow lessen my anxiety.

An idea sparked in my mind. If I locked my door, he wouldn’t be able to come in. I could keep him out of my room, and maybe that would give me enough time to breathe, to think, to figure out what to do. Perhaps, if I could keep him at bay until I married Mike, this nightmare would end. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the only thing I could cling to.

I headed to my wardrobe to pick out my nightwear, but as I reached for it, his words from earlier rang in my ears: “Don’t get dressed.” His command replayed with an alarming clarity, making my hand tremble slightly. I swallowed hard, brushing the memory aside. I didn’t care what he said, I needed to wear something. After all, it wouldn’t matter once I locked the door.

I slipped on my nightwear, a simple, loose outfit that gave me some semblance of comfort. His warning felt distant now, like an empty threat. He wouldn’t get in. The door would stay locked, and I’d finally feel safe for the night. I secured the lock and even checked it twice, taking a small breath of relief as I climbed into bed. The silence of the room felt reassuring.

But just as I began to relax, I felt a presence beside me. My heart skipped a beat, and my body froze in place. It wasn’t possible. I locked the door. I checked it myself, severally. How?

I turned my head slowly, and there he was. My breath caught in my throat as fear washed over me in waves.

“I know what you’re thinking right now,” he said, his voice low and shockingly calm. He pointed toward the window, which was now open with broken glass glinting faintly in the moonlight. “I passed through the window.”

My heart sank. He had broken in. Every semblance of security I thought I had was gone. There was no escaping him. I knew then, as I stared into his unrelenting gaze, that this night was far from over. It was going to be long, and I wasn’t sure if I could survive it.

“I told you not to meet me dressed, but you disobeyed by wearing this,” he said angrily, ripping off my nightwear.

Fear gripped my throat as the torn fabric fell to the ground, exposing my bare body.

“You still locked the door when you knew you weren’t meant to,” he paused. “Now get on your fucking knees, Evie.”

I dare not think of doing otherwise. I dropped to my knees. He had never been this harsh toward me before. He had always treated me with care and affection. I must have truly hurt him for him to act this way.

He loosened his trousers, letting them drop to the floor, his big cock springing free. The size of it always left me craving to touch it—it was so cute, just like its owner.

“Now, worship me,” he commanded.

When he said that, he meant savoring his cock like a lollipop. I loved the way he commanded me.

I found myself easily forgetting what he did to me earlier. I think I forgave him too easily. I lose all control whenever I get my hands on his cock.

I started with his scrotum, taking his full balls into my mouth, one hand on his waist and the other gripping his cock.

I trailed my tongue from the base of his cock to the tip before taking him fully into my mouth.

He thrust his hips forward and backward as I moved in rhythm, choking slightly on his length.

He gripped my hair, controlling my movements as his long cock repeatedly hit the back of my throat. Tears welled at the corners of my eyes.

I felt my pussy shamelessly dripping as he lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bed.

Gently, he spread my legs, lowering his mouth between them, his tongue landing on my pussy and licking up my wetness.

“I see you’re fully ready for me, sister,” he said teasingly, a wicked smile on his face.

I anticipated his cock in my butthole, but instead, he tried to penetrate my pussy. The pleasure that had been washing over me was replaced by fear.

“Please Dave, you know you can't deflower me,” I shouted, my voice trembling, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears.

“I need to remain a virgin until I marry Mike,” I repeated, assuming he hadn’t heard me the first time.

I continued to plead with him but he pinned me to the bed tightly.

Dad will never forgive me for betraying his trust.

He caught sight of one of my belts hanging in front of her wardrobe, and I instantly regretted leaving it there. Rage consumed him as he beat me to a pulp, trying to knock sense into my head, I assumed.

“I shouldn’t take the virginity that belonged to me that you and your dad want to rip me off .” He kept saying as the leather of the belts continued to land mercilessly on my bare body.

“So, you planned to go with him? Is that why you lied to me about the conversation?” he demanded.

I didn’t reply just sobbed uncontrollably, with my body shaking with fear and sorrow.

Exhaustion consumed every fiber of me, leaving no room for resistance. My body, heavy with defeat, surrendered to the ground as sobs tore through me, raw and relentless. Each gasp felt like shards of glass scraping my lungs, my tears carving silent trails of despair down my face.

Though battered, my thoughts could not escape its torture. It never stopped me thinking about how damaged Dad's heart would be. I imagined his proud look would shatter into uncertainty and suffering, and his faith in my strength swayed. Disappointing him broke me even more, and every breath seemed meaningless.

I thought of the dreams I had cherished, of the patient wait I had endured to loose my virginity, hoping to make a cherished memory. I had imagined joy, tenderness, and pride when sharing my first experience with my friends, a story worth retelling. But instead, it turned into a nightmare, one I never wanted to live through, much less speak of.

I felt hollow, as though pieces of me had been stolen, leaving only an echo of who I once was. The betrayal of my own hopes and the loss of a cherished ideal gnawed at me, compounding my grief. Sobbing, I lay like a log of wood with Dave on top of me doing his thing.

After what felt like an eternity of his hands roaming and relentless teasing, the sharp pain hit me like a blade, sudden and merciless. I couldn’t hold back the scream that erupted from my throat, my body reacting instinctively. My back arched involuntarily, my fingers clawing into the sheets beneath me as if tearing them apart might somehow free me from the agony. Every nerve in my body felt raw, and I gripped the fabric like it was my only anchor in the storm of pain.

When he finally forced his way inside, there was no wave of joy, no triumphant relief that I had envisioned when imagining this moment so many times before. The dreams I had spun, the perfect story I’d imagined sharing with my friends filled with excitement and pride, shattered in an instant. Instead of happiness, all I felt was emptiness and dread, an ache that went far beyond the physical, sinking deep into my soul.

Stunned and shattered, I laid there as he leaned in, his face just next to mine. His hands softly cradled my cheeks as if to comfort me, and his eyes met mine with an intensity that seemed stifling. Then he gently, long kiss my forehead, as though it were a sign of affection. To me, though, it was venom masquerading as love—a kiss as poisonous as a snake against my flesh. That simple gesture meant to calm me simply made me more disgusted. It was contaminated, a mark of betrayal carved into my memory; it wasn't tender.

He brought his lips close to my face, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that felt suffocating. His hands cupped my cheeks delicately, as if the gesture could convey affection, and then he pressed a kiss onto my forehead. To him, it might have been tender, an act of care but to me, it felt sinister, a kiss laced with malice, as if his lips carried venom that seeped into my skin, leaving me paralyzed with revulsion.

He parted my legs with an almost calculated ease, his movements deliberate and slow. His fingers brushed against my thighs, sending shivers that I couldn’t control. His lips followed, grazing my skin as he trailed down to the core of me. When his tongue swirled over my clit, and then deeper, lapping at my blood, my body betrayed me. A wave of pleasure surged through me, a sensation so intense it drowned out my thoughts.

Everything else blurred for a moment, the sorrow, the anxiety, the shame and the guilt. I was caught up in a pleasure I hadn't expected and caught in the tempest of my own body's response.

Tumbling and overwhelmed as I lay there, an idea crept through the turmoil.

Maybe, this was the first time I had always wanted. But buried under that brief bliss, the reality stayed far more difficult.