#re7

You've no clue how you got here. All you remember is being in the locker room after a gym sesh, working off the disgust of that class freak Lucas asking you out to prom. His lightly yellowed teeth showing under a snarling-awkward smile as he held a single daisy up to you. Sweet try, you guess, but something put you off, like maybe the rumours that he fucking killed a kid in 3rd grade! Or maybe the musty damp smell of him wafting in the halls as he walked through them, slouched, never looking up from his phone. Ah, high school boys, what a delight. In the locker room, you looked down at your phone as you replied to your group chats, gagging gifs, all your friends were there when he asked you out, you'll never live this down. Then some asshole puts a rag over your mouth, you thrash, but it's useless, trying to grab at your assailant's hands, you get scratched by bitten jagged edges of nails, then pass out.

Back to your current situation, you're sat in some kind of decorated room that smells like rubber, rotting wood and cigarettes. The walls are covered in neon paint and glittering streamers, it looks like some toddler went nuts after mom left them alone too long. You squeeze your eyes together, this is all a dream, all a stupid dream or a prank that Beau is playing on you. Yeah, it's all Beau's work, he always does stupid shit like this. He's the prankster of the friendgroup it must be him, you hope. Your breathing grows ragged and panicky, fuck let this be some prank. Tears well, and you go to wipe your face, or at least try, but there's resistance when you try to pull your arms up from behind your back. Oh fuck, no, no, no! Your eyes shoot open, and you thrash, only then realising you're in some kind of fucked up shibari-type rig that's pulling your arms back and pressing your chest forward, the ropes going under and between your tits. You're in a dress that you definitely weren't wearing before, meaning whatever vile fuck did this stripped you and redressed you. You don't even want to think about what he might have done to your precious body. If you were in any other situation, you’d probably admire the handiwork, but the silence of the room punctuated by your thrashing and panicked breathing really makes you forget all about how pretty it makes you look.

Okay so arms are a no go, youre sitting up too straight menaing you cant exactly see your ankles, you try pulling up just one foot and the other fucking comes with it, great this sicko has thought of everything, from the shibari tie to the cattle hobbles holding your feet together, sure you could stand but running would be hard even with the slack that the hobbles have. Great, just fucking great, perfect actually, you're about to get killed or raped or cannibalised and the freak who did this to you has access to cattle gear. You shiver and let out a sob at the thought, lowering your head.

"Wakey, wakey," You hear a man's voice and look up, so deep in your horror that you don't notice a concealed door opening and closing. "oh dont cry, sugar, we gon' have us some fun, you and i." Its him. Its Lucas, god, you should've known that freak would've done something to you for denying him, with what you heard he did to Oliver. You stutter over your words, tongue going numb. Lucas is tall, and thin, like a walking ghoul with eyebags to match, donning his signature hoodie and khakis. He steps closer and closer until he's in front of you.

"Cat gotcha tongue, sug? You're always so talkative, not fuckin now, bitch" His shrill, rasped voice is raised and filled with anger or passion, one of the two, you can't really discern, but he's looming with blown-out pupils.

"What- what are you going to do to me?" You ask with a choked sob as he raises a hand to caress your face. You grimace at the thought of all of the dirt and germs, and god knows what else on him as his fingers dig into your soft, pliant cheek.

"Well, I asked you to prom, didn' i? so were havin a ourselves a prom", he says it so passively aggressively that even you start to wonder if you're stupid for not assuming so, the decorations, the dress.

"hell im sorry, sug, I ain't exactly dressed for the occasion myself, but I'm sure you don't mind" he chuckles sharply

"Just stay good and pretty for me, and we'll have a whole lotta fun, got it?" he adds, gripping your chin and forcing you to look into his eyes. Those blue, blown-out eyes with wet lashes and a red blush around them. You wonder if he's on something, he must be. No sane person would do this shit if they weren't high. Now you're wondering if he even is sane.

"I said, got it!?" he raises his voice again, and it slices through the silence, Lucas is gripping your chin so hard you think he might crack it.

"I'll be good, I promise," you mumble out, a soft sign of submission. Maybe if you do this well, play the game as he wants it, he'll let you go, right? He slides his thumb against your lower lip, you try to nudge your head away from the touch, but no cigar, not even an inch. He smiles, and that dry, rough thumb pulls down your lip, examining your gums and flesh like you're just a goddamn doll he's checking the quality of. He finally pulls away, and you close your mouth from habit, the taste of nicotine and motor oil floods your mouth, and you wince. He rifles through his pockets and pulls out a red tube of lipstick.

"I knew you'd come round, but before we can begin this little party, you wanna look your best dontchu?" he asks with an unnerving smile, crouching down so hes face to face with you.

"Now I ain't never used this thing, but I seen my sister use it so I think I'll get the hang of it", Lucas adds, you look at the tube in his hands, used, probably belonging to his sister. His sister, Zoe, you know Zoe, she's 2 years younger and sweet but quiet, tried out for the track team last fall, where is she during all of this? Did Lucas steal this thing while perving on her? How many times has he watched his baby sister put on lipstick? The disgusting thought of him with his hands down his pants, staring through the door at her crosses your mind and almost makes you gag, but the pop of the cap opening breaks your thoughts. You look back up into his eyes.

"Keep pouting, sugar, itll make this a whole lot easier" he coos at you, grabs your chin with one hand, and with the other twirls the lipstick up. The red tip is slightly worn, now a stub instead of the pointed edge you're used to. You imagine Zoe putting it on after this whole thing. Lucas will probably put it back in her drawer after this, and she will be none the wiser. Maybe he will keep it as a sick momento, smearing it over the curl of his hand as he jerks himself off, leaving red marks on his balls as he pulls his hand up and down, swirling at the tip. Why the fuck are you imagining this? God, you're a sick fuck.

He points it at you and smears the red wax over your bottom lip messily, pulling your lip with the nub as he does so. Then he paints the top lip, rougher this time to get the corners of your mouth, you swear some got on your teeth in the process. Satisfied, he pulls away, caps the lipstick, crushing the tip inside the tube, and stands back up, pocketing it. Well, there goes your Zoe theory, hes surely keeping it. He admires his work on you as you tremble, smiling to himself with satisfaction.

"Smile!" he commands cheerily. So you do, a sad tear-filled smile. You can't even imagine what you look like, a shitty excuse for a party dress contorted with rope, lipstick on your teeth and smeared like a kid got into mommy's makeup, hair seemingly still in the same style you wore to the gym, but to him you were the prettiest picture. His little princess, his prom queen.

"Now that you're all ready, every party needs music, right? i made this one just for you," he says, walking over to a laptop plugged into a speaker system.

"I was gonna give it to you after we had a romantic time at the prom, but wellll you ruined that, didn't you, sweetheart?" The way he says sweetheart, with such fury, makes you shiver, almost growling it at the thought of how this could've gone before you said no. You imagine it: you say yes, go home, have a meal with your parents, get teased by your friends, maybe Kristine would dare you to prank him during the dance, you might agree, you might not. Either way, when prom came, you'd be safe, and at home, and getting ready, blasting music and underage drinking with your girl friends in your bedroom instead of this. You'd probably get picked up by him in his ugly, rusted truck, your mom would take photos while pitty smiling, and then you'd have a totally normal prom. If only you had said yes. He fumbles with his laptop, grumbling curses at it under his breath. When the "music", if that's what you could call it, starts playing, you wince away as he awkwardly smiles at you and punches the volume down key. The song can only be described as a drum and bass dj bieng thrown around in a trash can, recorded and then sending the CD through the washing machine. It's unbearable, but you return his awkward smile, trying not to anger him.

"Wow... you should be a DJ." You comment kindly, lying, but hey, whatever gets you out of this rope, your arms are going slightly numb, and you swear you can't feel your butt from the metal chair either. A normal conversation might make him realise that what he's doing is batshit.

"Nah, I'm going to college for engineering", he retorts "though my beats do get likes on the YouTube" Of course he has a YouTube for this shit, theres always an audience when you're looking for one. Youre not surprised at the engineering part, hes always been smart in science class, passing every semester even though he most just slept through classes or threw notes at the other losers. Must be what he thinks making friends means. He stalks up to you again and grabs you by the ropes against your chest and pulls you up. Clasy. You stumble a bit, the hobbles making it hard to stabilise yourself, but thankfully gentleman Lucas is there to hold you by the waist and shuffle with you as if you were dancing. Your fear has not escaped you, nor has the disgust, he stinks. This whole room stinks, this is all so fucked, but you're far past begging and pleading, just play his game and get out, you think. He presses his head between your neck and shoulder, his slick, sweaty face rubbing against your skin as he inhales deeply, groaning to himself. Just as you feel his tongue slip out slightly, you gasp and squeak

"hey lucas"

"mhm", he hums against your skin.

"How about you take this... rope off of me, and we can dance for real?" you try nervously, anything to get him off of you. He scoffs, and you're sure that you've just fucked it.

"Well-" he starts, pulling away from you, and you sigh in relief "I wasn't fixing to do nothin bout that but... you did promise to be good" He moves behind you and undoes the rope gently, it’s almost kind, if he wasn't the one who nonconsensually put it on you in the first place. The way his big hands gently untie the rope, reaching around you to unravel the knots around your breasts, you could tell he wanted to take his time with you, and when he finally gets it all off, he wraps it around his hands in a coil and drops it on a table, as you shake out your arms and rub your rope-burned wrists.

"I'm keepin them hobbles on ya though, don't you dare think of running, if my daddy sees you, we'll both be in a world of hurt" He warns, pointing at your legs.

"Alright, thank you" you mumble in reply. You don't fully believe that. Mr Baker has always seemed kind when you saw him at church, then again, if this was the son he raised, maybe you should be weary. Watching Lucas, he somehow now seemed smaller, perhaps nervous? Like you being untied turned the tables or made you an equal. You do go to the gym, and he is scrawny, the height advantage however, probably meant he could overpower you no matter how much you lift. He scratches his head with unease.

"I-I am sorry, cher I don't... I don't usually do this, I'm not a monster, you know?" he says, coming closer to you again. You freeze, his arms outstretched, ready to grab you if you move. Lucas's eyes seem bigger now. "I just, fuck, you're so fucking pretty, but you're such a bitch" Lucas rambles, raising his voice. You flinch. Not the first time you've been called a bitch, not even the first time today, he seems to favour this word to describe you, but you can't argue him wrong, and to be fair, he is terrifying. You kind of are a bitch, your friends are bitches, you wouldn't call yourself mean girls but making fun of pimply outcasts and gossiping over the teacher were regular affairs.

"I'm sorry" you mumble, barely louder than the music. He seems to freeze with genuine shock. "Can we just dance? please?" a plea not to actually dance but just to move on from whatever this conversation lead to, you didn't exactly want to be comforting a 6-foot-something psychopath in his own... basement? barn? Where even is this place? Point is, coddling your kidnapper in some weird Stockholm syndrome scenario wasn't your favourite idea. Anyways, he nods, and you dance, its awkward, it doesnt match the music, and he keeps breathing in your ear like a dog. He's still sweaty, somehow even though the room is freezing, and his fingers keep wandering. Down over your ass, groping you like meat, tongue sliding over your neck. You let it happen. At one point you wanted to joke that at a real prom youd have chaperones yelling at you to leave space for Jesus, but you dont even think Jesus knows this place exists. That's probably what's allowing this to happen. As his chest rubs against yours during the "dance" you feel your nipples harden against the plastic fabric of the thrift store party dress he shoved you in. Wait. Did this fucker take off your bra as he was dressing you? Pervert. Where did he put it? Also, it's kind of... sweet? Like he thought of your comfort, you wonder if maybe thats why he took it off, he does have a sister maybe it wasnt perverted maybe he remembered his sister complaining about bra wires and he didnt want you to be uncomfortable. You shoo away those thoughts. No, he was a pervert, a kidnapping pervert who's licking your neck and getting a boner at rubbing himself all over you while dancing to his shitty homemade tracks.

You fear to think what comes after this. Maybe he planned party games, or maybe he just wants to get lucky? God, please let it be party games, spreading your legs for this jerk is the last thing you want to do. Your body will never forgive you. Shoot, you're so thirsty, you don't want to tell him, he could slip something in your drink, and then you're kidnapped and drugged, awful combo. Looking around the room, trying to ignore the reaction you body is having, you note no windows, the door he came in through was disguised, and the neons lights didnt exactly illuminate cracks in the walls where a door could be. There was a table with snacks and plastic cups, meaning no glass to smash over his head, and if you just turned slightly, you would be able to see if the chair you were sat on bolted to the floor but no matter what you did the fucker didnt let you look that way, too engrosed in leaving dark hickeys and bite marks on whatever skin he could get at. No tools lying around, just balloons and easily breakable streamers, but there was still the rope that he had tied around you on the table amidst the gas station junk. Maybe you could distract him and then choke him out? Desperate times do come to desperate measures. His half-hard dick rubs against your thigh too hard, and that's when you decide you've had it.

"Lucas... did you maybe plan any games or... something?" Your voice comes off meager and uncomfortable "Maybe we could take a break from dancing?" he moans softly against your neck and pulls away softly as you try not to grimace at the feeling of his spit down your skin.

"You not havin enough fun, babygirl? You want games, I'll give you games," he chirps way too gleefully and spins you around, untying the sash from the back of your dress. He must have tied it into a bow around your waist, its cute, but he unties it and spins you back around. The man-handling wasn't your favourite, but you know what, you could deal with it if it meant he wasn't sucking on you like a leech. Lucas takes you by the hand, carrying the sash and pulls you to the chair you once sat in.

"Sit, sit", he urges, his eyes aglow with ideas. "This little game, I'll blindfold you with this sash here, and you have to guess what I put in your mouth!"

Oh, you poor naive soul. In all fairness, you did this to yourself.

You swallow down the urge to vomit as he ties the pink sash around your head, over your eyes, and you tense, white-knuckling the skirt of your dress. The anticipation and axiety is making you sweat, your body feels like hornets in a maraca, you hear some rustling to your left.

"Oookay! First thing!" He says, and you feel something dry touch your lips, leaving some crumbs on them sticking to the lipstick. "Come on now, be a good girl and open" he purrs darkly. Hesitantly, you give the item a kitten lick, drool sticky in your mouth, spit thick and spindly in your mouth snaps as you open your lips. Oh, thank god it's food.

"Cake?" you guess quietly.

"Clooseee," he urges happily "come on, bite it, it's good~" Surely he wouldn't drug you, he seems to revel in your reactions, and you can't react drugged, so you do as he says and bite into the cake.

"mm!" you exclaim, mouth full, chew, then swallow "twinkie!"

"yes!yes! yes!" Lucas celebrates, and your shoulders unwind slightly with relief, maybe this game won't be too bad. Blood pours back into your fingers as you release the dress from a grip strong enough to rip it. More rustling.

"Now this one, isn't edible, so don't bite it, don't want you breaking those pretty teeth" he warns, bringing the object closer "Come on, open up," he urges once more. Non-edible and can break your teeth? So it's an item, you shiver at the thought of the dirt on it, just like you did his fingers. You open your mouth slightly, tongue flat. Lucas presses the item onto your tongue. The surface is smooth, almost polished and tastes like a jobsite smells. You run your tongue over it, trying to find some kind of texture, your thick spit coating it. You're so dehydrated, making you think how long you have been in here? How long were you out of it? Your brow furrows, trying to figure out what the item is, taking your sweet time. You think maybe if you just chew on it, maybe youll figure out what material it is atleast, so you go to close your jaw around it when Lucas speaks up.

"Uh, uh, uh, what did I say? No teeth" he reprimands you. You open your mouth back up and try to back away to try to guess, thinking maybe it was some kind of pole or tool of some sort, but  as soon as you try, a huge hand grabs your hair and shoves it down your throat. You choke and blubber around it in shock, and Lucas pulls it straight back out, laughing maniacally, letting go of your hair as you cough, bent over, grabbing at your throat.

"What the fuck!" You rasp out

"Language! Little girls shouldn't be saying such things. Now what do you think that was?"

"Fuck you, Lucas! You just-" He cuts you off with a harsh smack to the face, gripping your chin.

"What did I just say?" Well, that certainly shuts you up. You breathe heavily, still recovering from the smack and the choke, throat and cheek burning. God, if you could just put your hands around this fuckers neck, you would-

"I'm sorry, Lucas, I won't swear anymore"

"Good, now what's your guess?" You think for a while.

"A handle of some sort?"

"Oh, you can do better than that, how about you taste the other side, sugar." He more so commands than asks and forcefully shoves the object against your lips, clearly not playing nice anymore. It's cold, metallic, you place some of it in your mouth and it's a rounded edge that turns flat. A hammer? Where the hell did he pull that from? You swear you didn't see a hammer when looking around. Well, see it or not, now he has a weapon. Cool, stay calm, it's fine. He won't hurt me, you repeat like a mantra in your head. You pull away from the hammer gently, expecting another gag, so you tense, but when it doesn't come, you reply.

"A hammer?"

"See, there are some brains in there after all!" he chirps "last one!"

You hear him stomp away, unzip something, perhaps a bag? then comes back in front of you. You feel a heat radiating off of whatever he's holding, and you notice it kinda smells like piss. There's no way you're putting whatever that is in your mouth. You move your head away.

"Lucas, that stinks, I'm not putting that in my mouth."

"Oh come onnn... just be a good girl for me, I promise I'll be nice this time." No fucking way! You don't know what this sicko has in his hand, sure, you gave in to his other two stupid items, but you're not putting something in your mouth that smells of piss, no matter how bad you wanna get out here alive. That is until he pulls his hand through your hair again and guides your head to it, pressing a rounded item to your pretty red lips. It's warm and soft. Something in your brain goes gooey. The smell not really bothering you anymore, and your gut goes warm.

Oh fuck.

Yeah, now you know what that is, don't you?

You stupid girl, how did you not know where this was going to go? Always seeing the best in people, god you're so innocent.

"Imma need you to lose those brains for me, baby, let me in" Lucas borderline moans. Against your better judgment, you do. You open your lips and just like with the twinkie, you give his cock head little kitten licks. Your hands raise slowly to hold his clothed thighs as you slip the whole head into your mouth. The heat envelops it, and Lucas gasps lightly with delight. You're sure that if you took this blindfold off, he would be smirking with those stupid chapped lips and nicotine-stained teeth, neck veins prominent, but you'd rather not see whose dick you're sucking right now, let him just be a dick. It's easier that way, and so much fucking sexier. Lucas, however, apparently doesn't think so as he takes off that stupid sash that was guarding whatever dignity you had left and chucks it across the room. Now you're forced to come to the daunting fact of- Holy shit, he's big. You look up at him through your lashes with wide eyes, swirling his tip with your tongue as he bathes in the wordless praise you just gave him. You knew of that maiden tale that big nose=big dick, but god you didn't think it was this right.

"Oh, I know, sugar, but you can take it, right? You're always complaining to yer freinds how you need a man with a huge piece" Lucas's voice is low and raspy, molasses mixed with smoke. Sure, you do complain about that, but only because it's girl talk, right? You didn't mean it, right? You ignore the slickness growing in your panties, you are not enjoying this, you're not. Oh, but the way he talks... and you can't really complain, you do have a dick in your mouth. Speaking of, you take more of him in your mouth and he groans, lifting his shirt with one hand as the other holds your hair, guiding you up and down his legnth, not too much just yet, he doesnt want you to protest right away, just wants you nice and pliant and you can do that, you can be so nice and so pliant, cant you?

Slut.

You look in front of you through lashes that are now slightly wet, tearing up. He has a pretty little trail of hair leading from his belly button right down this treasure of a dick. You imagine it inside you, swallowing around him. His grunts over the shitty music that is somehow still playing, him bullying your cervix. You're pretty sure your wetness has gone through your panties by now, leaving a wet patch on the pink fabric. Lucas, though having the time of his life, getting sucked off by the most popular girl in school, is getting a bit impatient.

"You can take it, sweet girl, try, stretch that fucking throat of yours-fuck-" The vile thing he says sounds almost sweet to your ears, pulling you closer to his pelvis, making you greedily suck down more of him, closing your eyes and trying to breathe through your nose. He presses that cute nose of yours right against his skin as you gargle and choke, tearing up. He moans like this is what hes been waiting for all his life, you slap his thigh, hoping he lets you free for a breath, your spit flowing out at the edges of your lips. However, he doesnt give you the satisfaction, what he does instead is releases his shirt from his grasp and holds your nostrils closed.

"You're gonna fuckin learn to be nice to me, gonna say sorry, aren't you, princess?" He forces your hair to nod, shoving him impossibly deeper, making you gag on your own spit up and bile forms in your throat. "Yes, I will, Lucas. Yes, I will" He puts on a girly taunting voice as he makes you nod, but the lack of air makes it hard for you to focus on what he's saying.

When he finally does let go, you push yourself away, onto the floor and spit up on the ground, gasping for breath, hands on the cold concrete floor, trying to ground yourself. Before you can even sit up again, he's standing above you, dick in hand, looking at you like you're prey. You open your mouth to say something, anything, curse, yell, shout, but he takes he oportunity to shove himself in your mouth again, holding your hair like handles and fucking your face. If you had any brains to reflect at this moment, you'd probably wonder, why you? Or perhaps are you the first girl he's done this to? who knows, truly? Maybe he just learnt this from whatever snuff porn he watches in his bed at night. However, being as cock drunk and air deficient as you are, you can't reflect, just sit there, shaking and gasping, with a clenching pussy being face fucked by the guy you and your friends throw food at in the cafeteria. He grunts and curses to himself, you can't hear it over your own spit and slorping noises, but it's something along the lines of:

"What a good fucking hole, I might keep you for myself"

"Such a whore"

*incoherent giggling*

"God baby, fuck"

and some other things. The times that he does let you breathe come briefly and rarely, keeping you just on the edge of passing out, but you take it like a champ, what a good fucking hole indeed you are. It's rough and horrid and so intoxicating. Part of you thanks god he didn't drug you, part of you wishes he was this rough with your cunt instead. Honestly? Who cares what your friends say? Maybe you are the slut of the "cokehead, incel" and you're happy about it. If you could only touch yourself, rub your clit for even a second. He pulls you off of him but holds your cheek against his thigh, chuckling.

"Nasty slut, need me that bad? want me to touch that pussy? bet you're all puffy and wet," Lucas taunts you, you realise you're humping his fucking shoe. Your sweet little head nods. Lipstick smeared all over your face mixed with precum and spit, what a mess, it's all over him too. "Shame, cuz ya won't fucking get it" he faux pouts at you, then smirks, rubbing his dick on the swell of your cheek, it slides up the side of your nose and hits your brow bone, before retreating and repeating the action.

"You don't even deserve to taste my fucking cum" No matter what he said, you still stick your tongue out like a dumbass, licking his balls as he thrusts, one eye closed so the liquids won't make you blind, and the other looking up at him like hes jesus on the cross, him fucking self. He cums with a grunt, his stomach spasming slightly as he spills ropes over your face. He smacks your cheek.

"Good fuckin' girl" Lucas rasps.

Writers notes:

God this was a long ride, hope ya'll enjoyed, let me know how to improve ect! Meat divider is by @/we-die-like-fools, I dont want to properly tag them incase they dont like this kinda stuff but yeah. Cant remember where the heart divider is from, if one of ya'll know comment and ill tag them. My stupid fucking husband (lovingly) spilled coke all over our cream carpet while i was writing this.