The Mild Rape of Tara
by MechaBlade
Tara met Jake at a cast party in Hollywood. It was supposed to be cast-only, but she had been feeling depressed after the death of her bougainvillea, so she bugged her roommate Michelle until Michelle let her tag along.
The party was pretty chill. It was only an indie film after all, but there was talk of heading to Sundance, so Tara stopped had stopped taunting Michelle about her "lame indie movie" gig and started giving her encouragement. Attending this party would cement their friendship, she knew it.
As fortune would have it, they had an amazing spread of appetizers. It was by the appetizers she met Jake. Tara's immediate attraction to him was confusing. Sure, he was tall, but his floppy hair and thin eyebrows made him look boring. Like an American Harry Styles. Though he wasn’t really her type, she supposed he might be fun to talk to for a while.
"Ew, you like deviled eggs?" she flirted. It was a bit forward for her; she usually didn't like putting herself out there that much.
"Sorry, do I know you?" he seemed a bit put-off, probably because she had come on to him like some sort of wanton slut. She made a mental note to slow down and let him chase her.
Tara introduced herself as Michelle's friend, and they got to talking about the film. Tara had only seen an early screener, so he discussed the changes the director had made in the final film. Despite his toxic mansplaining of the film, Jake had a certain charisma. She liked how explained plot elements by setting up mini-dioramas with the appetizers.
"And then the guy says, 'It's all over!'" he said, holding an olive, adding "'It's OLIVE-er!"
She laughed boisterously. "I'm OLIVE-er that!" she joked back. He chuckled politely at her similar pun. Tara wondered why he didn't laugh louder. Perhaps he was the sort of guy who didn't think women were funny. That thought turned her off a bit.
His clumsy conversation notwithstanding, they got on well. The two got to kissing, and she got to hoping that he would take her back to his place. As if he were reading her mind, he asked if she wanted to get out of there. Tara readily accepted and they got into his car.
"Your place or mine?" he asked.
"Um, that won't really work. Because of my roommate?" she reminded him. That, and her room was currently a rat's nest of period panties, discarded pizza boxes, and 3,000 empty cans of La Croix.
"Oh, right. My place then?"
"Seems like a good idea."
"Why thank you, m'lady," he croaked awkwardly. It was the sort of statement that was endearing, if the guy saying it was cute enough. On the way, she occupied herself by using her notes app in her phone, writing her name over and over with his last name attached. She couldn't fight the feeling that he was the one.
Jake's apartment was pretty nice for an indie-level actor. It was freshly painted, had tasteful James Dean posters, and was free of the smell of rat piss. She didn't know what he had planned for the evening, but hoped he wouldn't turn out to be some jerk. She was looking forward to spending more time here.
As she pondered the night's possibilities, Jake grabbed two wine glasses. "Uh, you good with white wine?" he asked.
"NO. RED, MOTHERFUCKER!" she said, glaring at him.
"Okay…" He sank into the kitchen.
Several glasses later, they were laughing at some ridiculous cat video on YouTube, their hands intertwined on his red sofa.
"Aren't you glad we had red wine?" she belabored.
"You're beautiful," he told her. She blushed and leaned back, praying for him to make a move. He leaned in expertly and gave her a kiss. His hands glided over her body, touching all the right spots. She cooed.
As he fumbled with her jeans, she giggled at him. He seemed inexperienced and awkward in a way that was almost adorable. He shrugged his difficulties off with a smile, then dipped his head as he began to kiss her
down there.
A warmth blossomed inside Tara as he kissed and nibbled on her labia. He was no expert, but once his tongue was introduced into the equation she felt no need to complain. He was a keeper.
"The job is yours if you want it!" she yelled out, indulging herself in silliness.
She felt herself growing hot and horny, her legs slowly extending and contracting across the sofa. As she was reaching a minor peak, he backed off. He placed her hand on the crotch of his pants.
She was definitely aroused, but not sure she wanted to return the favor. She was feeling nervous and a little drunk. "I don't know…" she began.
"C'mon," he whispered. "C'mon."
Tara bit her lip, confused on what to do. She didn't want this to get out of hand and she definitely didn't want him to think she was a slut. But most importantly, she didn't want him to
hate her, so she obliged.
"Yesss," he sighed as she moved her head to his crotched. He quickly pulled his pants and boxers down and she was on him. It was inside her mouth.
While massaging his cock with her tongue, he hardened in her mouth. He then began thrusting like some sort of ogre.
Ugh, she thought, sucking him a little while longer just so that he wouldn't complain.
"Suck me, beautiful," he said.
She doubled down on his cock to keep from laughing. Why was he so weird? Finally, she raised her head up, smiling brilliantly. He kissed her, then fished a condom out of his pocket.
Oh my god, he wants sex? she thought. Tara wasn't sure what she had expected when she came up to his place—some drinks, some conversation, getting her pussy eaten, and then a game of Monopoly, maybe?—but the idea that he would want intercourse had never once occurred to her. Not even once. Is this what people did when they said "let’s go back to my place?" She cursed her abstinence-only education. It was time to express her hesitation clearly. With some non-verbal cues.
"Oh," she remarked, raising an eyebrow and jutting out a pinky.
Jake paused. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said, quickly adding "Just…" without any follow-up. For more cues, she squinted her eyes and cracked her toes.
"I'll be gentle," he said softly.
She wasn’t sure if she was up for sex. But… he was an actor. In a film that was probably going to Sundance. She was considering going into acting, and pissing him off could ruin her career. He held all the power, and he knew it. He could destroy her future, despite no evidence of him ever doing anything of the sort before. After all, she barely knew him, so there was no way for her to know that he
hadn't killed the dreams of countless starlets.
"'K," was all she said.
Why was he proceeding? Sure, he'd made all the first moves so far, from kissing her to asking if she wanted to go to his place, and she would’ve been disastrously distraught if he had stopped at any point previous to this very moment. But there was no reason he had to
continue initiating new acts. It was like he almost didn't know when to stop. Surely, he could tell that she had only consented under tremendous pressure, be it real or imagined.
Jake pressed himself inside Tara as she realized that she didn’t want to have sex. She cried internally. Externally, she smiled, to keep him from turning into the murderous rage monster that lay within every smiling man. Jake hid this part of him well, kissing and stroking her as he raped her acquiescing body. His hard cock pumped inside her wetness, with no sense of remorse. Hadn’t he ever heard of affirmative consent? She never said "yes." Only "'K." That wasn’t enthusiastic consent. That was only a letter. And it was kind of a shitty letter, in her opinion.
Things went downhill. "You ever try anal?"
She stared at him, frozen. He was already defiling her womanhood, now he wanted to sodomize her, too? He was a sick fuck. Anal sex was definitely a hard limit. Tara knew she had better make something up to get out of this situation.
"Yeah. I like it."
The moment the words escaped her mouth, she knew she’d said the wrong thing somehow. She knew he’d take her innocent acknowledgement of her sexual history as a sign of consent to the act he just inquired about. Why couldn't he just ask her "May I have anal intercourse with you right now? Please respond 'yes' or 'no'" like they did in her fantasies? She desperately sent more non-verbal cues of her discomfort as he lifted up her legs and pressed against her asshole with his throbbing member.
Tara wracked her brain trying to figure out a way of this situation. If only there were some word she could say to get him to stop! She came up hopelessly empty. How she wished she had never been raised by that family of wolves!
Jake huffed and puffed as he infiltrated her ass. Tara was losing this fight. She moaned in pain and anguish, and just a tiny little bit in arousal. It was over. She was being anally raped. Just as her school counselor had predicted.
Well, isn't this a fine how-do-you-do? she thought, her butt full to the rim with his evil cock.
WORST. NIGHT. EVER.
It was so typical. She had been pressured into having sex against her will by a master con-artist’s silver tongue and hypnotic charm. What else could she do? She was just a mere woman. Powerless when in the company of a man and completely unable to vocalize her lack of consent. Whether she said "yes" or "no" was completely irrelevant anyway. Everyone knew that men were completely responsible for what happened in bedrooms. Any discussion of words or alternative actions she could have taken were just victim-blaming. This man had decided he was going to fuck her ass, no matter how uncomfortable she was with the situation and no matter what her aura had to say about it. Her only choices were to give in, or—the unthinkable—to risk possibly disappointing him by stating her discomfort.
It was then that another man, probably his roommate, suddenly burst in through the front door. "Whoa!" the man said, upon seeing the scene.
"Dude! Get out of here!" Jake yelled. Then Jake turned to Tara, a grin creeping across his face. "Unless..."
"No," Tara said clearly. With her eyelids. In Morse code.
***
Tara was at home, crying and eating delivery, her gang rape from several days ago fresh on her mind.
Guys are all the fucking same, Tara thought as she flipped on the TV. On TV, some famous woman was describing how her boss had threatened to fire her if she didn't have sex with him.
#MeToo, sister, she thought.
#MeToo.
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