
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6207088.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      No_Fandom, Original_Work
  Relationship:
      The_Boy/The_Girl
  Additional Tags:
      TRIGGER_WANING!!!!!!!, Date_Rape, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Age_Difference,
      Rape_Scene_Between_a_13_Year_Old_Girl_and_a_17_Year_Old_Boy, dark_story,
      angst_and_hurt, Hurt_No_Comfort
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-03-09 Words: 1586
****** Bury Me In Satin ******
by VultureLovesong
Summary
     Sexual education in schools is near non-existent, and sometimes the
     innocent pay the price. No means no, no matter how quietly it is
     said, no matter how weak the fight.
     If you need help, visit this website: https://rainn.org/get-help/
     national-sexual-assault-online-hotline
[rapey]
                         ***** Bury Me In Satin *****
                                        
===============================================================================
Once upon a time, there was a little girl, and in her veins there was wishes
and dreams in place of blood.
If you were to ask her she would claim she wasn't pretty like her sisters, nor
would she say she was talented, or outgoing. Just a shy invisible girl in a sea
of invisible people trying to pretend they mattered. She was no more or less
important than any person, be they beside her, or far away. The girl was just a
girl, and that was all. And despite her own thought on the matter, the girl was
pretty to others though, even dressed as she was in out of fashion hand-me-
downs and thrift shop clothes, with her fair freckled skin and her shoulder
length mousy brown hair. It was her eyes that drew people to her though. She
had eyes so blue it sometimes seemed as if someone trapped a clear winter sky
inside a crystal and split it in half to make her eyes.
She was naive too, grown up in a house where her family watched no television,
and she wasn't allowed to play on the computer very often, and only ever
educational games rarely online at all, so she often felt lost in fast growing
the modernity of the world around her. Maybe, had her parents let her learn on
her own, or had they taught her, she would have known what to do. She would
have been able to protect herself, but back then sexual education was even more
of a taboo, and her school did not teach until it was already too late.
It was October 06, 2009. The girl was in her choir class, laughing with new
friends, when he came. He was tall, and older, and popular, always smiling, and
the girl had a crush on the senior boy since school started. She was elated and
surprised when he asked her to go out with her to a park after school, and of
course she said yes. She was only thirteen, turning fourteen at the end of the
month, but thirteen nonetheless. She had no thoughts on sex, no interest in the
subject, but she did have dreams of kissing. That day as school went by she
wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
The events of that afternoon would not be the first time someone had touched
her without her wanting it. Her dad's long time girlfriend had a friend, and
the girl often had to entertain her son, which was around the same age as her.
Between the ages of seven and ten, the friend's son would put his hands under
her shirt or up her skirt even after she said no, and he did this often before
their family moved away and lost contact. Nothing more than his grabbing her
ever happened, and she remained quite innocent despite it. The events of that
afternoon were not anything so innocent as a child's curiosity.
That day, after she got home from school, she tried to dress in nice clothes.
She did not own anything attractive to wear, traditional or otherwise, but she
did her best. She was buzzing with glee as she walked down from her home to the
park, her books in her arms since she was expecting they would just be
studying, maybe kissing or holding hands, or some other naive girlish fantasy.
And he was there, smiling that same smile.
The girl and him sat there and talked at first, aimless and changing topics,
and soon he has his hand on her leg, his other arm around her shoulders. She's
nervous then, the fluttering butterflies in her stomach just as fast as her
frantic heart.
"Kiss me." he says, and she does.
She has never actually kissed anyone though, so he chuckles when she pulls away
immediately. He cups her chin in one hand and draws their lips together. The
kiss changes then, not as innocent as the older, more experienced, boy takes
control, guiding her actions. She likes kissing like this, being devoured like
this. It's nice, nothing like the soft press of lips a parent gives a child.
The girl sees it as a special kiss, and she tries to follow his example, to
taste him as he tastes her.
Then his hand slides up her shirt. The girl freezes and pulls away. "Umm, I'm
not really comfortable with this." She says, pushing his hand back down.
He moves his lips to her throat. "It's fine." he says. He leans back. "Take of
your shirt." He orders.
The girl bites her lips. She's scared now, her mouth suddenly dry, the frantic
butterflies dead in her stomach. She doesn't know what to do. She wants to say
no, wants to tell him to keep his hands to himself, but she hasn't ever dated
anyone before. What if this is a test? What if this is something normal girls
allow? She doesn't want to come off as prude. She doesn't know exactly what the
word means, but judging by the way her friends say it, she suspects it is not a
nice thing to be. Whore is the other thing she hears. That sounds even worse.
Eventually she hesitantly nods.
"But nothing bellow the waist." She states firmly. It's good to have
boundaries, especially when you are so terrified and uncomfortable you think
you might throw up, she decides.
He nods, smiles that bright as the sun smile again, but now she doesn't feel
anything but cold. She wonders if other girls feel this way, if it gets easier.
He has her lie back on the park bench, the cold air tickling her bare skin, the
rough jean of his jacket under her, his hands on her, like his exploring,
greedy eyes. "You're beautiful." he says. The girl doesn't think he really
means it, and she wonders what he will ask for next, because she isn't
beautiful. She gets her answer soon after, when he first bites, then pulls at
her nipples.
"That hurts." She tells him sincerely. He doesn't apologize, just does it
again, gentler as if that will make it better. Her heart thuds in her throat.
He sits back up. "Come here." The girl lets the boy guide her in between his
legs. He unzips his pants. "Don't be nervous."
She isn't. She's frightened. She's cold. She thinks maybe saying yes earlier
must have been a test, and she thinks she failed. His smile is not the sun. His
smile is the sharp rocks at the bottom of a cliff, the waves crashing
menacingly against them.
"I don't want to do this." She tells him.
He pulls her closer, pulls her head forward, and kisses her so that her
protests are muffled when he brings her hand down onto him, guiding her actions
as she tries to pull away.
"Let me go." She whispers.
He kisses her again.
"Please."
He guides her to her knees. The thud they make is the Earth splitting in two.
"You're shaking." he says. She knows.
"Please." She says again. "Don't."
"Open your mouth." he tells her. His eyes are not kind. He is not asking. He is
ordering again.
"No." She says.
He groans then, and uses his fingers to open her mouth for her. "Relax." He
says. He pulls her down with a desperate noise. Her mind is screaming. He is
hot in her mouth. "Watch your teeth." She scrapes them harder when he moves her
head again, and he huffs before pulling her up. There is the sharp sting of
salt water on her cheeks.
He stands. "Come here beautiful." He says. He turns her so that her back is
against his chest, and he guides her down, so she is leaning down over the
picnic table, hands on the surface.
The blood is rushing in her ears. She is ice, stiff and unyielding, paralyzed
in her fear. He is fire, hot, and destructive, and melting her away like she
never mattered. The boy undoes her pants, batting her hands away and putting
them back on the table. "Beautiful." he whispers, trailing hands over her newly
bared skin.
"Please stop." She begs softly.
"It's okay to be nervous your first time." He say, as if trying to be
reassuring, and then he is inside her, and the world ends.
The waves crash against the mountains, tearing it down bit by bit. The sun
burns the drought stricken dessert. Hands grab, breath comes in harsh noises on
her back, and a little girl screams but no sound comes. She is drowning but no
one notices. Like being suffocated in satin, a lie of kindness not able to hide
the danger. It hurts. Not like crashing her bike hurt, but more inside, where
the screaming and the frantic beating, and the sobbing is happening. She
whisper chants soft into the roaring wind and rush of blood in her ears. "No.
Please. Don't. Stop. Please. No. No. NO."
"Beautiful." He lies. "So beautiful."
And then it is done, and he is looking down at her with eyes falsely sweet,
joking about something as he strokes himself the rest of the way done. She
mutters an excuse, anything to get away, any reason to flee.
"See you tomorrow."
It sounds like a threat.....
Once upon a time, there was a little girl, and in her veins there was broken
glass and sharp bleeding rocks in place of blood.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
