Chapter Text
You had been waiting for what felt like hours. Your friends were always late. You sat at the counter in a skirt you’d fretted over, hair and makeup done, and the empty stools next to you made you feel ridiculous.
You called. You texted. Nothing.
At least the bartender was there. William had been a fixture at this place for months. He had an easy smile, super charming, and slid into conversations like he’d been invited. You’d all laughed about how he worked the room; flirted with everyone a little, remembered drink orders and birthdays. You trusted the routine: him, the music, your friends. But tonight you were alone.
When William saw you he brightened. He moved with the slow confidence of someone used to getting what he wanted. No rush, no apology. He leaned over the counter and you could smell his faint cologne.
“Well, well, well,” he said, sliding into the space on the other side of the counter. “Someone’s all alone tonight.”
You laughed, a little too high. “They were supposed to be here by now. I guess they hate me.”
He smiled and for a beat his eyes dropped to your chest and then snapped back up, slow enough that it wasn’t accidental. You noticed because he wanted you to notice. You always noticed him. If it had been anyone else you might have bristled; with William, you didn’t mind. You couldn’t explain why you let him look.
He tilted his head, leaning forward as if sharing a secret. “Does that mean I have you all to myself tonight?” His grin widened.
His hand rested on the counter, fingertips lightly brushing where your arm lay, not quite touching.
You felt the heat rise in your cheeks and smiled, leaning into the flirtation like you always did. “I think it does,” you said, trying to sound playful.
“Lucky me,” he said. “Now, what am I getting you tonight? You’ve always been the wildcard.” His voice was light, but there was a patience to it that made you feel like an experiment he was delighted to conduct.
You giggled and played along. Your friends stuck to their usual drinks, but you liked surprises. “Hmmm,” you mused, tapping your chin. “Surprise me?”
When you looked at him, his eyes darkened. He chuckled, and the sound was too pleased with itself. “A surprise?” he said. His tongue flicked across his lip. “Oh, I’ll surprise you.”
He moved behind the bar with that practised ease. You admired his technique. When he set the drink in front of you it was clear and cool, with a pale purple sheen and a thin ring of something like flower petals along the rim. Lavender, you thought. Pretty.
“You’re like a magician!” You said.
“Then you’re the tester of my magic,” he said, sliding the glass closer. He ducked, reached for something below the counter, and lingered longer than necessary before producing a straw. He held it between thumb and forefinger the way a surgeon might hold a scalpel, then dropped it into your drink with a little clink.
“You know me well,” you said, smiling. His eyes didn’t leave your face. “Go on,” he urged, voice low. “Taste it.”
You brought the glass up and took a long sip.
“This is so good!” you said.
“You always like what I make,” he said, “You being honest? Or just trying not to hurt my feelings?” .
You laughed lightly, trying to brush off the heat rising in your cheeks. “I wouldn’t lie to you, William. Come on—you know me better than that, right?”
He tilted his head, eyes sliding over you like a scanner, taking his time. “Of course,” he said smoothly. “I know all you girls so well.” His smile sharpened as he added, “But you’re special. Did you know that?”
“Maybe I had a feeling,” you giggled, but your voice sounded smaller than you meant it to.
William nudged your glass closer. “Drink up. Good for my ego.” It wasn’t a suggestion. So you obeyed, lifting the glass and sipping.
“That’s it,” he murmured, watching you closely. “Thatta girl. Your lips look so cute around that straw.”
“Oh, shut up,” you tried to laugh it off, but his grin didn’t waver. He leaned on the counter, eyes never leaving your mouth as you sipped again.
“You’re hilarious,” you said, cheeks warming, but he only tilted his head further.
“And you,” he said deliberately, lowering his voice, “look very sexy tonight.” His gaze lingered on the low cut of your top. “Careful in that outfit…”
You forced a laugh, ignoring it. “You always look sexy,” you blurted, deflecting, before draining more of your glass. It was half-empty now, and every time you lifted it, his eyes tracked the movement like a predator watching prey.
“Do I now?” His smirk deepened.
“You must know that already.” You rolled your eyes.
“Sure,” he said. “But it feels better when a pretty girl tells me.” His eyes narrowed, amused by your blush. “Go on—finish that drink. Serve my ego, won’t you?”
The weight of his stare pressed down on you until you slurped the rest, setting the glass down with a clink. He leaned back, satisfied. “Good girl. Coconut lavender mojito. Suits you.”
“It was delicious,” you said.
You stayed planted on the barstool the rest of the night, rising only once to dance. Mostly, you sat there with William. He was magnetic, beautiful, perfect.
The mojitos kept coming. You told yourself you could handle them. Your tolerance was good.
But a while later, your head rested in your hand. The edges of the room blurred, your thoughts dulled. Vodka never made you sleepy—not like this. This was different. Off.
“You alright?” William’s voice came low and dark. His grin was there, waiting, as though he’d been expecting this.
“Was it just vodka in that?” you mumbled, voice thick around the words. “Mojito… that’s vodka, right?”
William paused and then answered. “No,” he said. “Light rum. That’s why the color. I should’ve told you. Rum can make you a bit sleepy.”
You believed the explanation because bartenders know things. It made as much sense as you needed. “Ohhh,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I’m not an expert on alcohol,” you laughed, then closed your eyes for a beat.
“That’s alright,” William said. “I’m the expert.” His voice lowered again. “You look very tired…”
You nodded. “Maybe it’s a sign to go home,” you offered, rubbing your eyes. Your bed sounded like the best idea you’d had all night.
“My shift is almost up,” he replied. “I’ll call you a cab.”
“Really? Thank you.” You meant it. You felt safe. You trusted him.
When his shift ended he came around the bar and looped an arm around your waist. Instead of calling a cab he guided you through the staff door and into the dimly lit alley behind the bar.
“Where are we going?” you slurred, clutching at him to stay upright.
He hummed, close enough that his breath brushed your cheek. “I’m taking you home,” he whispered,.
You wanted to argue. You wanted to insist on a cab, on calling your friends. Your words thinned and slipped away. You tried to keep your eyes open; they closed of their own accord.
By the time you realized you were falling, his arms were already the last thing you felt. And after that, you were unconscious.
William smiled, his cock throbbing with anticipation as he laid eyes on you, passed out and vulnerable. He scooped you up and laid you gently across the back seats of his car. His gaze lingered on your body, taking in every curve, before his hands moved to lift your skirt and slide off your panties.
He brought the fabric to his face, inhaling deeply, a groan escaping his lips. "Sexy girl," he murmured. He shut the door and hopped into the driver's seat, speeding back to his house.
Through the rearview mirror, he kept glancing back at you, his mind racing with all the things he planned to do. You were helpless, a plaything for his every desire. He imagined all the ways he could pleasure himself using your body, his cock hardening at the thought.
Ever since you walked into that bar, he had fantasized about this moment. Drugging you, taking you home, using you, fucking you, raping you—every dark fantasy played out in his mind. Now, with your friends out of the way, he was free to act on his most foul desires.
Upon arriving home, he carried you inside and laid you on his bed. He unbuttoned your blouse, revealing your bra, and hiked up your skirt, revealing your bare pussy. His pulse raced.
Quickly stripping off his own pants and boxers, he revealed his hard cock, already dripping with pre-cum. He took your hand and began to jerk himself off with it, his hips bucking into your palm. "Fuck," he moaned, his voice a guttural growl. "So soft... Oh fuck..."
He drew out the pleasure, wanting to savor every second of this helpless, unconscious body beneath him. His mind raced with all the ways he could use you, all the pleasures he could extract. You were his perfect little victim, and he intended to make the most of it.
But he knew he wanted more than just this—he wanted to take you, to violate you in the most intimate and brutal way possible. The thought of raping you sent shivers of perverse delight down his spine.
He pushed your hand away. He positioned himself between your legs, his hands trembling as he spread them wide, exposing you completely to his hungry gaze.
“Perfect little toy,” he whispered, his voice a low growl. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his blood rushing to his cock, making it ache with need.
He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’m going to fuck you now, gorgeous.”
With a shuddering breath, he grabbed his cock and guided it to your entrance, rubbing the head against you, coating himself in your moisture. He could feel your body responding, even if your mind was oblivious to his touch. It only spurred him on, making him harder and more desperate.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned, his hips already starting to move, teasing you with the tip of his cock.
He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, feeling your tightness envelop him. It was almost too much, the sensation of your body wrapped around his cock, but he held back, wanting to savor every moment of this violation.
“Oh God,” he moaned, his hips finally thrusting forward, burying himself deep inside you. “So tight.” He started to move, his hips pumping in a relentless rhythm, each thrust harder and deeper than the last.
Your body began to stir, slowly awakening from its forced slumber. At first, you only heard him—a low, guttural groan against your ear, a string of perverse praises whispered. You felt his skin against yours, the intimate pressure between your legs, deep inside you. His hands roamed over your body, possessive and demanding, and as your senses finally returned, the horror of your situation became clear.
Your eyes fluttered open, and you gasped, a sound of shock and terror escaping your lips. William looked down at you, a wicked grin spreading across his face, his eyes gleaming with a perverse delight.
“William?” you choked out, your heart pounding in your chest. You tried to move, but your body was still sluggish, and he had you completely trapped beneath him, his weight pinning you down.
“Someone’s awake,” William chuckled, stilling inside you, a cruel teasing. “About time you joined the fun, little one.”
“W-What’s happening?! Why—“ you moaned uncontrollably as he started to move again, his hips thrusting with a relentless rhythm. He chuckled at your response, leaning down to kiss your neck, his lips hot and demanding against your skin.
“Shhh,” he shushed, his voice a low, mocking whisper. He used one of his hands to wrap your leg around him, trapping you even tighter beneath him, ensuring you couldn't escape. “This feels so good, doesn't it? You love this, don't you?”
You struggled against him, your body betraying you as it responded to his touch, your muscles clenching around him. You were terrified, confused, and worst of all, your body was reacting with a perverse pleasure. You could feel your orgasm building, the pressure intensifying with each thrust, and it was madness. No man had ever made you cum before, and now, William—your rapist—was going to be the first.
“Fuck, you're so tight,” William groaned, his voice thick with lust. “So perfect. I can feel you. You're so close already, aren't you? Let go, let it happen. Let me make you cum.”
You sobbed, trying to refuse, but he lifted your thigh, snapping his hips forward, causing your orgasm to crash over you. He chuckled in a perverse groan as he felt you cum, fucking you through the waves.
“Mmm, good girl,” he moaned, and you could feel his cock hardening even more inside you, “That’s it…Mmm,” he whispered against your ear until you were completely spent, shaking beneath him.
It didn’t take much longer for him to finish too. He held you close, making sure you couldn’t move an inch when he filled you up inside. He collapsed on top of you, staring down at you with a smirk.
“You’re a good little ride,” he said, brushing the hair out of your face. “What do you think?” He asked. You sniffled, unable to look at him. He gently guided your face towards him. “C’mon now. Talk to me, gorgeous.”
“W-Where am I?” You asked.
“You’re at my house, silly,” he chuckled.
You swallowed. You didn’t know how to feel. You felt violated and scared and confused, yet somehow also satisfied.
“Can I please go?” Your voice shook. You always thought you wanted to sleep with William, but not like this.
You felt betrayed. Why couldn’t he have just asked you out? Why did he have to drug you? To violate you? To rape you?
“Sure thing, sweetheart,” William winked, standing up, “I’ll drive you.”
Once he was finished, he casually ran his fingers through his hair and zipped up his pants, as though nothing had happened at all. The nonchalance in his movements made your stomach twist. With shaking hands, you tugged your skirt down to cover yourself, scanning the floor for your underwear. It was gone.
You began fastening your blouse, feeling his gaze linger on you. His quiet chuckle made your skin crawl.
“The buttons are uneven,” he teased. You ignored him, fumbling with the fabric. When you pushed yourself upright, your legs nearly gave out. He caught you instantly, pulling you against his chest as though it were an embrace.
“Ooo, careful there,” he chuckled again, amused by your weakness. You shoved him away and wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, building what little shield you could.
You trailed after him outside, slipping into his car without a word. He grinned the entire drive, smug, as if he had accomplished something admirable. Every so often, he stole glances at you, laughter bubbling in his throat like a private joke. His hand slid onto your thigh. You flinched. That only seemed to entertain him more.
At your apartment, he offered to walk you to the door. You refused, darting away without another look.
Inside, you collapsed onto your bed. The tears came fast, hot, and endless. You didn’t know how to feel—didn’t know how to name the confusion clawing at your chest. And yet, despite everything, one truth gnawed at you.
A part of you wanted to see William again.
To feel him again.