The Bad Boy Affair

by Vulgar Argot

(NC, Humil, light beating, MF)

Dana waited impatiently as the clunk of the broken doorbell echoed through the house.  There were lights on inside and she could hear a TV playing in the living room. Still, she had rung the bell four times now and seen no sign of movement inside.

"Mr. Eckes, Mrs. Eckes, are you in there?" she called, "It's Mrs. Tedesco."  There was still no answer. She tried again, "I need to talk to your son." She paused now. What was the little bastard's real name? "Derek."

Still receiving no answer, she walked around the side of the house, looking for a back or side door. She hated this neighborhood. Constant Bay was becoming a lovely little cottage community, postcard pretty and tourist-friendly, at least down at the waterfront. But, up here in the wooded hills, it still showed its origins as a fishing village. Ramshackle little houses and rotting boats were the overwhelming element of decor.

When her husband Grant had been in charge of the zoning board, he'd tried to zone these neighborhoods out of existence. But the homeowners, if such a term could be applied here, had fought the retroactive zoning.  The judge had really dressed Grant down on that one, saying he had, "grossly overstepped his authority." He'd gotten around it brilliantly, however, by zoning the area around it for heavy industry and landfill. Already the plastics factory and used tire lot had driven away a half dozen families. Their houses now stood vacant, awaiting condemnation and destruction. In a decade, this town would be rid of its most embarrassing element.

No one answered her knocking on the back door, either. She was about to give up and head back to her car when she heard a loud gunshot come from the woods behind the house. She started, putting a tree between herself and the woods, her heart racing. A few more shots rang out in rapid succession. It was now obvious to Dana that they were not aimed at her.

"Hello," she called out, as loudly as she dared. In the gathering twilight, her voice seemed to carry a long way.  Another shot followed immediately after her call, cutting off her echoes with its own. She called again.

"Jenny?" called a decidedly uncultured voice from the woods. Even with the one word, the rural New England accent was obvious.

"No," called Dana, careful to enunciate, "This is her mother. Mr. Eckes, could you come here, please?"

There was a rustling from the woods as the speaker approached. As Derek emerged, Dana noted coolly that she could understand what her daughter saw in him. Tall and rangy, he wore only a pair of blue jeans and some sort of harness around his chest, the musculature on his chest and back obvious even from a distance. The only surprising feature was his hair. Most of the yokels who lived up in the hills seemed to favor mullets or hair that ran to should-length or longer. Derek's was neatly shorn. Dana suspected that it was probably from a recent delousing.

For some odd reason, she was surprised to see that he was carrying a pistol. He held it down at his side with casual menace. Dana didn't think he'd actually be foolish enough to threaten her with it, but he did seem awfully comfortable with it.

As he approached, Derek holstered the pistol. The harness Dana had seen was a shoulder holster like police officers wore on television. When he saw Dana, his face split into a wide grin, "Mrs. Tedesco," he said, "You don't make it out this way very often. Would you like to come inside?"

Dana noticed that it was getting rather chilly as the sun set. She nodded, "Yes. Thank you."

Derek led her in through the back door. The kitchen was done in late twentieth century white trash, the linoleum faded and peeling, the countertops burned and stained in numerous spots. Other than that, it was surprisingly clean.

Derek disappeared through another doorway and came back, toweling sweat off of his torso, "Can I offer you something to drink, Mrs. Tedesco?"

"Water, please," Dana said, noting the water filter on the tap. She was relieved to see Derek take a clean glass from the cabinet and fill it. He placed it on the kitchen table. She sat down in front of it, taking a sip. Now that she was actually planning on confronting this young man, her mouth had gone a bit dry.

Opening the refrigerator, Derek pulled out a long-necked bottle of domestic beer, popped off the top, then hopped up onto the edge of the high counter that ran through the center of the room. Dana realized that she'd been outmaneuvered. Derek's head was now about three feet above hers, forcing her to crane to speak to him. Even if she stood, she was not a tall woman. He would still overtop her by three or four inches from his current vantage point.

He didn't speak, seeming content to watch her. Dana didn't know where to begin. When he took a sip from the beer, she said automatically, "You shouldn't be drinking that."

Derek put the bottle down next to him and grinned at her. In spite of everything, the grin was disarming, particularly when topped with those piercing, blue eyes. When he got older, he'd be a real lady killer.

"Did you come all this way to check up on my alcohol consumption?" The regional accent was gone now. Dana wondered if he was mocking her, by imitating her more cultured tones. It was hard to say. Mockery seemed to dance in those wintry, blue eyes and had from the moment they'd come into view. She decided to ignore it if he was.

"I came here to talk to you about my daughter," said Dana. There. It was out.

"Jenny," he said.

"Jennifer," Dana corrected him.

"Lovely girl," said Derek, "She prefers that I call her Jenny."

Dana shuddered a little at the easy familiarity. She wondered if Derek was lying. Still, she pressed forward, "I don't want you seeing her anymore."

"Why not?" Derek asked, his eyes serious. He didn't sound surprised or defensive. It was a simple query for information.

"You're too old for her," said Dana, "and you drink."

"I'm only a couple of years older than her," shot back Derek, "And you certainly didn't hear from Jenny that I drank. She's never seen me do it. I've never talked to her about it. So, you didn't know it when you came up here." He was more intense now.

Dana felt flustered. She had thrown that it at the last minute. Still, she rallied enough to play her trump card, "You're old enough that what you're doing is illegal."

Derek seemed unfazed. He even chuckled, "If it's legality you're worried about, why am I talking to you and not a cop?"

Dana hadn't prepared for this line of questioning. She stammered out, "I thought we could resolve this without resorting to that."

Derek's laugh was a lot heartier this time, "Really? And here I thought it was because you wouldn't want the embarrassment, what with your husband running for state senator."

Dana stiffened in her seat, "Mr. Tedesco is already a state senator. He's running for the real senate this year."

Now, the mockery was blatant, "You can be sure he has my vote," Derek said.

"I want you to leave my daughter alone," said Dana again.

"You said that already," said Derek, "I have yet to hear any compelling reason why I should."

Dana felt her anger rising, but choked it back, "I told you," she said icily, "she's too young for you."

Derek jumped down from the counter. He walked behind her chair, where she couldn't see him, "Do you have someone older in mind for me?" he asked. Then, in case his implication weren't obvious, he added, "I do see where Jenny gets her good looks, Dana. It's clearly not from your husband."

To her own amazement, Dana considered the prospect for a second. Derek was an attractive young man and Grant's campaigning had kept him away from her bed for a long time now. The idea was, of course, patently absurd. Derek was only a few years older than her daughter...and two or three years younger than Grant's overly-friendly campaign assistant, the blonde one with the perfect tits and the German-sounding name.

Dana dismissed that idea as quickly as it rose in her mind. She had to stay on subject. This young man was unexpectedly dangerous. She cleared her throat, "You're right that we'd like to avoid even a whiff of scandal," she said more calmly than she felt, "My husband is a powerful man. I'm sure we could find something you want in return for your understanding."

"I want," said Derek, leaning in so close that she could smell a slight whiff of perspiration and gun oil, "to fuck your daughter."

Dana closed her eyes. If the carrot wouldn't work, maybe the stick would. She stood to face him, rising so quickly that Derek had to step back or they would have collided. He still stood almost a foot taller than her and far closer than she would have liked. Still, she tried her best to stare him down, "As I said," her voice was icy, "my husband is a very powerful man. We could make your life very difficult if you insisted on seeing our daughter."

Derek took a half step, his eyes widening a little. Dana smiled triumphantly, feeling she'd gotten through to him. He crossed his arms, looking down at her, "I bet you could," he answered, "You and your husband could make my life a real living hell."

Dana nodded, "If we had to," she said evenly.

"Make me wish I'd never been born?" Derek asked.

Dana shrugged, "I prefer not to be so dramatic."

"Then I suppose," Derek said, stepping back into her personal space, "I've got nothing to lose." His eyes raked up and down her body, settling on the deep crevasse of her cleavage. Suddenly, the sensible navy blue blazer and skirt she'd worn didn't seem like anywhere near enough clothing for this meeting.

His hand moved, maybe towards her, maybe not. Panicking, she slapped him hard, across his face. While he was stunned, she grabbed for the gun holstered under his arm. He reached to stop her, but a second too late. She backed up against the table, holding the gun out, shaking, with both hands.

Derek raised his hands in a show of surrender, "Easy there, Dana," he said evenly. His eyes danced, "Think of the scandal."

"There won't be any scandal," Dana growled, "Just some local, drunken dirt bag who accidentally shot himself while cleaning his gun."

Derek smiled, "You've done this before, haven't you?"

"Shut up," Dana growled viciously, waving the gun towards the door, "Go outside."

"Dana, don't be stupid," said Derek, "You're not going to shoot me. How would you explain the blood under your nails to the manicurist?" He reached out one hand, "Give me the gun."

She almost shot him for his insolence. She had him at gunpoint and he was using her first name? What gall this boy had.

"Go outside," Dana said again, more evenly this time.

Instead, Derek took a step forward, "The gun, Dana." His voice was more demanding now. Even though she knew he'd be dead in a few minutes, Dana still found his eyes oddly hypnotic. She glanced at them a half-second too long and he lunged forward, grasping the gun by the barrel. Dana squeezed the trigger.

It didn't fire. The safety was still engaged. One hand caught her wrists, pushing them up over her head. The other drove into her gut, knocking the wind out of her. They struggled for a few seconds, but he was taller and stronger and she was bent backwards over the table. She tried to kick out at his groin, but he sidestepped, catching it in the knee. He kicked out her other foot and she fell backwards on the table. He grabbed one shoulder and flipped her face down, easily. His hand pressed between her shoulder blades so that her struggles, fierce as they were, could not touch him. After a few seconds, she felt the muzzle pressed against the back of her head and heard the safety click off.

"Hold still, Mrs. Tedesco," Derek said, his voice ragged.

Dana kept struggling, kicking and scratching feebly at thing air.

"Hold still, goddammit," said Derek, "Or I will blow your fucking head off."

Dana stopped struggling. It sounded like he meant it.

"Goddammit, you fight like a wildcat," said Derek, "By the way you dress, act, and talk, I sure wouldn't guess it."

"Let me up," Dana hissed. Half of her long, strawberry blonde hair had escaped the tight braid she'd tied it back into and fallen into her face and was tickling her nose.

He dragged her roughly to her feet, one hand digging into her shoulder. She tried to turn to face him, but he held her firm, placing the gun to the back of her head again.

"Do exactly what I say," he said evenly, "And I might not kill you."

"Derek," Dana said, as reasonably as possible, "you're not going to shoot me. Put the gun down."

"Why not?" asked Derek, "There's a lot of woods up here. They'd never find you."

"Please, Derek," Dana knew she was begging now, but couldn't stop herself, "They'd find me. Don't kill me."

"I should," he said, "You were about to kill me."

"Please," she begged, "Let me go. I won't tell anyone."

"Shut up," Derek said, giving her shoulders a push, "Walk. In there."

As she approached the door, Dana realized she was walking into his bedroom. She turned to face him, the gun now pointed at the center of her forehead, "You have got--"

Derek hit her in the gut again. She collapsed like a cheap lawn chair. His knee was on her sternum before she could move, crushing the breath out of her. She cried out. The gun was at her temple again.

"I don't trust you," said Derek evenly, "You will do what you're told. If you make any sudden movements, I will hit you or shoot you."

"Please," Dana begged, "Think of what you're doing."

"I know what I'm doing," said Derek, "I'm teaching a stuck-up bitch a lesson about what it really means to be a powerful man."

"You'll go to jail for this," Dana threatened.

Derek lifted his knee off of her, "You already promised to make me wish I was never born, Mrs. Tedesco. You can't threaten any worse than that. Stand up."

Dana stood. Derek stood a step and a half away, the gun trained on her, "Go in the room," he said, "And take off your hose and your jacket."

Dana started to argue again, but before she could speak, Derek had covered the distance between them and wrapped one hand around her throat, lifting her clear off of the ground. She clawed feebly at his wrist with both hands. He strode forward and dumped her backwards on the big double bed.

When Dana looked up, Derek had closed and was locking the door. He turned to face her, "You also will not argue when I tell you what to do. I'm trying very hard not to mess up that pretty face of yours, but I will if I have to."

"But..." Dana said before she could help herself. Derek strode across the room, grabbed her by one ankle, and pulled her flat on the bed. His weight was on top of her then, her legs spread obscenely.

His free hand pulled her jacket open roughly, spraying a button across the room somewhere. He tore at her blouse and it came half open. He squeezed one breast roughly through her silky, white bra.

"This is going to happen, Mrs. Tedesco," he said, "You'll get through it better if you accept that fact."

Dana nodded wordlessly. Derek removed his hand from her breast and sat next to her on the bed. He gestured with the gun, "Stand up, take off your jacket and your hose. You might as well take off your blouse too, now that it's ruined."

Dana stood up, her trembling hands undoing the remaining buttons on her blouse. By the time she stripped it off, tears were rolling down her cheeks.  She looked up at Derek.

"No crying," he said harshly, "You have no right to cry. You've earned this."

Dana stopped crying, but couldn't resist a little noise of outrage at the idea. When he didn't respond, she lifted up her skirt, intent on undoing her garters.

"Hold on," said Derek, "What are you wearing?"

For a moment, Dana felt wryly amused, "Stockings," she answered pedantically, "and garters."

"Hold up your skirt," Derek said. Dana complied. He walked around her, examining the area. Dana felt a little frisson as his intense stare bored into her. It had been a long time since anyone had stared at her with such obvious hunger.

"Do you wear those every day?" Derek asked.

"No," Dana admitted, "Only sometimes."

"Why today?" Derek asked. As he spoke, he released the clip from his gun, placing the empty gun on his chest of drawers as he unloaded the bullets from the clip, "Was it for me?"

Dana was outraged, "No, of course not. It was for my husband!"

Derek came up behind her, his arm wrapping around her now-bare midriff, "And does Grant appreciate them, Mrs. Tedesco?" he whispered lasciviously in her ear.

"Of course," Dana said irritably. She dropped her hem.

"All the time?" asked Derek, "Is the senator an insatiable sex maniac?"

"No," snapped Dana. She realized that she didn't know which question she was answering then, "Please, Derek, can we get this over with? No more questions."

"You'll answer my questions," said Derek simply, "When was the last time he fucked you?"

"I won't..." Dana started to say. The arm around her waist was suddenly like iron, crushing the breath out of her still-tender ribs. After a few painful seconds, he loosened his grip a bit."

"Answer the question," Derek growled.

"Last night," Dana lied. The crushing weight came again, then released a little, "I don't know," she admitted, wanting to cry again, "It's been a long time."

"How long?" Derek asked.

"I don't know," Dana was fighting back tears of shame now. The pressure increased slightly, "Six months, maybe nine."

Derek's arm came off of her waist. He looked her up and down with such intensity that Dana crossed her arms over her breasts, "The honorable gentleman from Constant Bay has a fine piece of ass like you at home and he hasn't touched it in nine months?" His voice sounded genuinely surprised, "Is he gay?"

"No," said Dana, outraged again.

"Is he getting some on the side?" Derek asked.

Dana didn't answer, just hung her head and hugged herself tighter.

"Stand up straight," Derek said imperiously. Dana found obedience to be instinct now. Her hands rested at her sides.

"You're a beautiful woman, Mrs. Tedesco," he said, "Why would any man stray if he had you at home?"

Dana's eyes widened with shock and she felt an unwelcome flush rising from somewhere beneath her skin.

"Derek," Dana said, her voice almost a whisper, "Why are you flattering me?"

Derek was behind her again now. His arm wrapped around her torso again. His other hand caught her by the hair, forcing her body to mould itself against him, "I don't need to flatter you, Mrs. Tedesco. I'm going to fuck you. I don't need to seduce you. Until I choose to release you, I own you. I tell you you're beautiful because you are, even if you are a worthless, manipulative cunt."

Dana gasped at the harshness of her words, but more so at the reaction of her traitorous body to the words. The combination of fear, abuse, Derek's obvious lust and the way that he touched her was beginning to cause her body to react as if aroused. She felt a moistness beginning to gather between her legs and her nipples stiffen against her bra.

Desperately, Dana tried to hold on to her fear and disgust. For the first time, she looked around the room for something to find distasteful that she could focus on. Unfortunately, while the living room had been a bit of chaos, the bedroom showed the same out-of-place neatness that the kitchen had.  The poster of a naked girl sprawled over a motorcycle reminded her that she was not with a man, but a boy. But, it also reminded her strongly of her wild days in high school and college. She'd been in more rooms like this than she cared to admit.

Even the brief reminiscence had been a mistake. Dana now realized that she could do this, could be turned on by it because she had done it and done it with guys who were a lot less good looking than Derek. Her breathing quickened and there was no denying that her arousal was not just a mechanical response.

Suddenly, Derek was crushing her again, so hard that she came off of her feet. She realized that he'd asked another question and she'd failed to respond.

"What?" she managed to gasp out.

"I asked why your husband would cheat on you?"

"She's younger than me," Dana cried out, "A lot younger."

Derek eased his grip a little, but didn't put her down, "As young as me?"

"Almost," said Dana, "In college."

Derek put her down, face down on the bed. She felt metal against the skin of her thigh, a knife, cutting away her underwear, under her skirt, leaving her garters intact.

"Derek," she protested, "At this rate, I'm going to have to go home naked."

"Yeah," said Derek, chuckling, "Fancy that. If you're good, I'll tell you how Jenny sneaks in at night and doesn't get caught."

Dana nodded into the bedspread, "I'll be good."

"Stand up," said Derek as he did the same, "Take off your skirt and your bra."

"Leave the garters on?" Dana asked.

"Leave the garters on," Derek agreed. Dana had known that was what he wanted, but she liked hearing him say it. Keeping her back to him, she unhooked her bra, then unzipped her skirt, folding both neatly and laying them on the footlocker at the end of the bed. As she leaned over to straighten them, he pounced on her, his naked flesh pressing against hers insistently.  She gasped in panic as his glans tried to push into her, abruptly and without preamble.

"Please," Dana begged, "Not dry. Let me suck it first."

Derek reached a hand down between her legs, his fingers exploring her roughly, "You don't seem that dry, Dana." In truth, she wasn't. And, as his fingers manipulated her with surprising dexterity and either knowledge or instinct, she was soon wetter. He held her pressed against him as he molested her. Pinned and assaulted, Dana began to make noises like a trapped animal.

"Please," she begged again.

Derek's hand went to her shoulder, pushing her down on her knees, turning her to face him, "I can't see refusing that request," he said. Then, his cock was in her face. Dana's eyes widened. It might not be the biggest she'd seen, but it was probably the biggest white one she'd seen.

She choked several times before she remembered how to take it properly. She'd convinced Grant she didn't suck dick. Derek was insistent and wouldn't be stayed. Finally, she got the rhythm down and was able to take it all into her mouth and throat. She sucked, licking and teasing. After a surprisingly short time, he came hard. He tried to pull away at the last second and ended up spraying a fair amount of his seed in her face and hair, across her chest and shoulders.

Dana was barely able to form a triumphant smile before she was face down on the bed again. She thought Derek was going to try to fuck her immediately, but instead, she felt the harsh slap of leather on her ass.

"You tricked me," Derek shouted in a rage, his belt coming down again and again on her tender flesh. Dana tried to curl up, but his free hand shoved her back into position and she knew better than to try to pull away again. Still, she pleaded.

"Derek. no. please. I didn't. mean to." Her pleas were punctuated by the strap smacking against her bottom, "Please. We'll still. Do it. Please."

Derek stopped beating her. Dana's flesh felt truly assaulted now, a cool breeze soothing it only a little. Now that the beating was over, she allowed herself to whimper.

"Clean yourself up," Derek growled savagely.

Dana got unsteadily to her feet. Derek indicated the bathroom with his head. Dana showered quickly, not wanting to infuriate this mercurial young man again. She noted with detatchment that there was only one window, too high and small to escape through.

When she emerged, Derek was sitting on the edge of the bed, his body obviously ready for another go. He idly stroked his member with his fingertips as he watched her.

She tried to approach the bed, but he held up a hand, "Dry your hair," he ordered.

When she approached a second time, Derek stayed seated, but gestured to her. Dana kneeled in front of him, looking up questioningly. He pushed her head down on his cock again. He was gentler this time and she much more cautious.

Eventually, Derek pulled out of her mouth and laid her on her bed on the back. Dana spread her legs for him and locked her heels behind his back, pulling him in. He got a few inches into her, but then stopped. She was not as wet as she had been.

Derek leaned over her, his lips by her ear, "Worthless cunt," he growled, "I'm going to split you in two." Dana moaned, sliding him in a couple more inches.

"I'm going to rape you," Derek growled, warming up, "I'm going to rape every hole in your body, you goddamned whore." He slipped in deeper, then pulled back a little for another assault.

Dana tightened up, "Derek," she pleaded, "I don't..."

Derek thrust all the way into her, causing her to cry out in pain, "Dana," he said, growling as he began to thrust, "You do whatever the fuck I tell you to do."

Dana knew that it was true. And, while the knowledge filled her with fear, it turned her on too. She was completely at the mercy of this young man's lust.  He was jackhammering into her now and she was rising to meet him, her hips urging him to fuck her harder, her fingernails drawing furrows across his back. Dana noticed that he didn't have much technique, but he didn't need much. Plus, he seemed to have a limitless supply of enthusiasm.  Dana cried out again and again, her orgasms coming one on top of another and so intense as to threaten to cramp her muscles. He was an animal now, but so was she.

"Fuck me," Dana growled, "Come on. Fuck me harder."

"Whore," Derek said triumphantly, but complied. Dana thought she would go insane with pleasure. It had been much too long since she'd been fucked like this. She couldn't get enough.

All at once, Derek was out of her, flipping her over on her belly. Dana cried out in loss and alarm. She had just enough time to become really alarmed before she felt his finger, covered in some oily substance, enter her anus. His other hand held the small of her back, not letting her squirm.

She wanted to plead, but knew that it would do no good. Soon, his fingers felt good, first one, then a second, maybe a third. She lost count. She began to come again, her whole body shuddering its approval.

He was on her so swiftly, she barely realized his fingers were gone before his cock pushed in, all at once, buried up to the hilt. Dana cried out in pain and terror.

"Please," she gasped, her whole body clenching against him, "Start slower."

"Not a chance," Derek grunted, "Take it like the whore you are. Unclench."

"I can't," Dana cried, "It's too much."

Neither yielded, except by necessity. Derek couldn't keep thrusting as hard as he wanted against her clenched muscles. Dana couldn't keep clenching against the onslaught. By neccessity, he slowed down. Against her will, she started to relax. Soon, he was impaling her as hard as she had been urging him to before and Dana was coming so hard, she was afraid she'd lose consciousness. She hadn't lied when she said she didn't do this. She'd tried it twice. The first time had been painful and unpleasant. The second time she had passed out.

Derek growled at her, "If you pass out, I swear to God, I'll keep you here all night until we get it right."

Dana wondered to herself if that was supposed to be a threat, but held her tongue. She managed hold tenuously onto her consciousness even though it seemed to go on forever. Finally, she felt him grow larger inside of her, then explode, filling her with hot come. Dana wondered idly where he got it all.

Afterwards, they lay on the bed for a long time. Night had long since fallen when Derek finally sat up.

"You'll come back Friday night," said Derek, "I'll make my apologies to your daughter."

"Derek," said Dana, hoping he would push, "I'm not going to keep fucking you to keep you away from my daughter."

"No," said Derek, "You're going to keep fucking me because you like it--and because I'm seventeen years old."

A look of horrified realization crossed her face, "Jennifer told me you were eighteen."

"Not for two more weeks," said Derek. He rolled to face her, his hand pulling her hip towards him, his manhood already stirring back to full arousal, "Until then, I'm a minor and you just raped me."

Dana laughed, stroking his cock with her fingertips, "That would never stand up in court."

"I know," said Derek, gripping one of her buttocks in a firm hand, "But think of the scandal."