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Introduction is given in the story itself.

This was a roleplay my boyfriend and I did many years ago. Of course, my boyfriend did not go as far with me as Peter certainly would with Lily, but he did enjoy giving me a few slaps and I let him maul my breasts and my labia much more than I would have otherwise. I certainly bore him an unreasonable grudge for a long time after this. Like Lily, I was too proud to cry, and too proud to chicken out using the safe word as he taunted me (unlike her, I had a choice). We are now thankfully past the grudges and good friends though we are no longer involved.

This story will be developed more, both in the beginning and the end. I just posted it now to hear the response.

Now, on with the story:

She stood in front of Peter, in a dark blue jeans and white full sleeve shirt that she had left untucked.

She looked drop-dead gorgeous, with her rich strawberry-red hair framing her angelic, innocent round face. Her lips – which were devoid of lipstick – looked delicious as they trembled slightly. Her cheeks were flushed from the anger that had long since dissipated into helplessness, and from the fear she felt for her family. Her eyes, a shade of emerald green, were shining with unshed tears. Her swan neck, which one saw when she haughtily gazed upon someone with a patronizing look, was now partially hidden as she looked down, pleading, at Peter who was sitting in front of her on the couch. The flush of her cheeks has reached to her neck as well, and to the top of her chest which was visible through the top button undone with an enticing hint of the cleavage. Her nipples were pencil-sharp, sticking prominently, probably due to the slight cold in the room or maybe due to the fear she felt for her fate. Her bosom moved up and down as she breathed, momentarily giving Peter even further glimpses down her valley. Below her breasts, her body narrowed down to the waist whence it flared out again onto her perfect hips. Her hands at her side clearly outlined the shape of her profile going down from her chest to her hips. The skin on her stomach just above the waist of her jeans was visible as the last button had been torn off in the struggle. She was an inch taller than Peter even though they were both fifteen. Her jeans, which made her legs seem longer than they were, stuck perfectly to her skin and the shape of her calves was clearly visible. She was squirming ever so slightly, her weight continuously shifting from one foot to another. Her thighs were pressed together with a hint of desperation, making a perfect V at her groin.
Peter stood up, trailing his fingers down her temple to her neck. He could make out, just barely, the contours of the marks his fingers had left when he had given her an “ah so satisfying” slap. She cringed slightly.

“Do you understand your situation, Lily?” he asked, smirking.

She nodded with a sniffle. Peter smiled, satisfied at bringing down the haughty bitch. In reality though, Lily was not haughty at all. She was a dear, always trying her best to help anyone she came in touch with, including Peter, who she was not that good friends with. Her kindness and sweet nature had led to this – made him lust after her.

Peter brought his forefingers to her lips, and pressed. Lily’s lips parted unwillingly and the finger slipped inside. She understood her situation even more clearly at this act of violation.

“Suck it,” he said softly. Lily complied. Though she was not very good, it was not Peter’s objective. He pushed his finger further into her throat, making her gag and her eyes tear up. He felt all her gums and the entire surface of her tongue to its very root in the back of her mouth, making her retch. He ran his finger all around the wall of her mouth, probing, reading her mouth and tongue and throat via tactile input. He took his finger out and wiped the drool all over her neck and the top of her chest. Then he wiped her tears using his finger and put it back into her mouth, this time much deeper. He started pushing his finger in and out her throat, deeper than she would have thought possible, making indecent sounds resembling those of a forced (or voluntary and enthusiastic) fellatio. She felt she’d choke, but Peter didn’t let up. Lily opened her mouth as wide as she could to let her breath in, but it did not matter as passage to her longs was blocked more often than not.

He took his finger out after a while. Lily’s eyes had teared up, her chest heaving faster from the lack of air to her lungs. She gasped a few times for precious oxygen, holding her aching throat and then resumed her position with her hands at her side, looking very close to breaking into sobs. But she could not bring herself to cry – she almost never cried – she looked at him with pleading but resigned eyes, as though bracing for next indignity she would be subjected to. She did not have to wait long. Peter put his wet finger at the parting of her hair, just above her forehead, and started to slide down. Lily’s eyes followed her very recent violator as it travelled down her forehead to her nose to her lips. He pressed again, but this time Lily seemed reluctant to let him in, having just had her mouth and throat suffer. Peter smirked, and pressed harder, looking meaningfully at her punished cheek. She got his signal and opened her mouth again, willing her throat muscles to relax, trying to draw as much air as she could, getting ready for further abuse. But this time Peter withdrew. He raised her chin and his finger travelled down her long neck to the valley between her breasts. Here he stopped. He made a circle with his finger and her drool, touching the swells of both her breasts. He made the next circle larger, this time displacing her shirt to make the part of her chest and her lacy bra visible. To this part the blush had not spread yet, but as he ran circles here, pressing slightly, her pink skin turned brighter. Lily closed her eyes in mortification. Peter brought his finger back to the top of her cleavage, replacing her shirt. He could still feel her heart beating faster. Lily relaxed somewhat, opening her eyes. Peter could feel his pants getting tighter. Lily felt the finger going down, between her breasts. It was not completely possible for Peter to avoid brushing the sides of her breasts, considering that her shirt was tight and fit to accentuate her breasts somewhat, but he tried to stay clear to give her a false sense of relief.

Lily felt the finger on its downward trail between her jugs. At one place it touched the skin in the space amid the buttons of her shirt and she unconsciously clenched her stomach in. Peter brought it to rest just below the last fastened button. There he slipped his finger beneath her shirt, Lily still able to feel the slight dampness from the leftover saliva on the finger. It reached her navel, and Peter could not help a deep breath, mesmerized, needing to control himself. He fondled the navel, slipping his finger in the depression. Here he paused to look up into her eyes, and brought his finger to her lips again. This time her mouth opened unconsciously, resigned to its fate. Peter tried to wet the finger, but her mouth was dry. He pressed further, making her gasp, producing again a copious amount of drool, some of which slip down the left corner of her mouth. Lily had closed her eyes again, a few clear drops escaping her eyes this time. Peter pressed further down into her throat with steady pressure, making her raise her head, unintentionally aligning her oral and throat passage. He could now see droplets of snot in her nose, which was actually saliva mixed with tears entering the nasal cavity. He was fascinated, enough to take his finger out of her mouth and put it now into her right nostril. This new act shocked her into opening her eyes and jerking her face away from the invasive digit. Peter smiled. He tapped her left cheek delicately, refreshing her memory into obedience again. He inserted his finger into her left nostril now. It could not go much further, but it cemented the poor girl’s lack of control and ownership of her own body into her mind. He wet the finger into her mouth again before bringing it down again, lubricating her navel with the thick saliva. He must have known that he could not push the finger much further inside this opening, and Lily too. But that did not prevent him from trying his seemingly best, enough to extract from Lily small, almost inaudible, groans of pain.

He slid his finger down. Lily turned her head up to the ceiling, looking at the chandelier, trying not to perceive the damp finger travelling, slowly, down to the forbidden region. One might think that she would be unwillingly excited by where the finger would stop next, that her body might go against her mind, but the wetness she was having problems preventing, was of a different kind. Mostly she felt disgusted, with herself, with Peter, her parents, her siblings, actually with everyone. She must have had a heart of stone to restrict her tears to occasional drops, she thought, at this utmost degradation of her body, being treated like a doll, or worse, a cattle. She pressed her legs, unconsciously, more tightly together, before realising that this act might earn her further slaps and relaxed them. She tried to resign herself to her fate, but she failed here, unable to ignore what lay next on the path of that offending snail slithering down the bare skin of her flat stomach.

Peter stopped, though, before he reached the dreaded place. He noticed here a slight bulging of the lower part of her belly. He gave a sharp jab, drawing her eyes back from the ceiling, almost making her jump.

“Please,” she whispered, to no one.

Peter’s eyes turned stern. “Did you say something?” He murmured.

Lily shook her head fearfully. “Did I tell you to speak?” said Peter. She shook her head no, her chest heaving again.

“You know what that means,” Peter spoke softly, “speaking without permission.”

Lily did know what it meant. She felt his hand caress her left cheek. She braced herself, mentally reciting Jesus’ name, closing her eyes. The caress continued though, Peter found her tightly clenched eyes, and her stiff posture too adorable. She opened her eyes, at the same instant that she felt a stinging slap. This time she could not hold back a sob. Peter smiled and raised his hand again, making her flinch violently.

“Don’t worry,” Peter soothed her, mocking, “one offence, one slap. Now, where were we?” He traced his finger the same way to the lower part of her stomach.

“Oh, yes. Here we are. Now,” he jabbed the bulge again with his finger, making Lily squeeze her legs together again and give a half-sob (she succeeded in suppressing her sob, though her face looked like she was ready to break down.)

"Work in Progress"
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