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Louis told himself that he’d quit a long time ago. The job was his last resort, and the only thing that paid him well—the only thing that put food on the table. Nowadays, he doesn’t need it anymore, but for some reason, he hasn’t stopped.
There’s something suspenseful about the line of work. It makes him feel an authority he never had before; he craves for it. He’s not fucked in the head or anything like that, it’s just one of those urges that you have to fulfill.
That’s why he’s found himself in the same club for the third time this week. It’s dark and dingy, and anyone from around the area would know that it wasn’t a place you wanted to be found in. That’s why a lot of foreigners frequent it, often unaware of the rumors and dangers of the place.
Louis stands against a wall in the corner of the club, blunt rolled between his fingers. He was given a brief description of the woman. Tall, brunette, with green eyes. He was told that he’ll know her when he sees her—that it’s all about her legs. Louis shakes his head as smoke curls around his mouth and towards his nose, becoming impatient.
He’s been standing here for the past thirty minutes and hasn’t seen anyone with captivating legs. Louis almost considers walking out of the bar when he smells an alluring fragrance that has him turning his head. It smelt expensive, like someone dipped in money. Louis’ eyes scan the crowd, searching for the source of the scent. He spots her immediately. The woman stands out, long, endless legs supporting her tall frame. She wore a tight, shimmering dress that accentuated her figure, sparkling under the dark lights of the club.
She’s exactly as described—tall, brunette, and with striking green eyes. She walks confidently to the bar table, hips swinging in a way meant to attract the attention of anyone around her. He locks his jaw as he watches her, strutting in those heels that make her unnecessarily tall. Louis takes a final drag of his blunt before crushing it under his heel. He steps from the wall, slipping through the throng of people, his eyes never leaving the woman.
She’s settled at the bar now, ordering a drink with a relaxed smile, her dimples caving into her cheeks. Louis could note every attractive feature about her, and this was only by her side profile. Louis slowly approaches her, as a predator would to its prey, sliding into the stool beside her.
She doesn’t flick an eye at the sound, focused on her kitten nails. Louis glances at her for a moment before calling the attention of the bartender. “I’ll pay for her drink.”
The woman perks up then, frowning slightly. “Net.”
Louis almost raises an eyebrow at her heavy accent, but keeps his expression neutral. He ignores her, handing the cash to the bartender. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the woman shaking her head, murmuring to herself. “Glupyye Amerikantsy.”
Louis recognizes some of the language. He smiles, turning in his stool so he could face her. “Do you speak English?”
She grimaces, looking him up and down. “Little bit.”
Louis nods, leaning closer to make himself heard over the pulsing music. “I’m Louis.” He introduces himself.
The woman eyes him warily before responding, “Harry.” Her accent wraps around her name, making it sound almost musical.
Louis smiles, putting distance between them again. “Nice to meet you, Harry.” He says. “What brings you to a place like this?”
Harry’s eyes narrow slightly, as if she’s trying to gauge his intentions. “Business.” She replies curtly, her English clipped and precise.
Louis nods again, expecting the vague answer. “Me too.” He takes a sip of his whiskey, keeping his expression neutral. He knows what he has to do, and he’s done it countless times before. But he’s found himself uninterested in the job more than he used to be. At first, it was just so he’d be able to afford a house. Now he doesn’t really need it, but for some reason he’s out tonight, with another woman who’s completely oblivious to what will be done to her tonight.
Pushing his qualms aside, he signals for another round. “Let me buy you another drink.”
Harry glances at him, suspicion flickering in her eyes. “Why?”
Louis shrugs. “Call it a friendly gesture. Besides, you’re going to need a partner on this side of town.”
Harry seems to consider this for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”
Louis watches as the bartender prepares their drinks with practiced ease. When they place the drinks in front of them, Louis waits for the right moment. He distracts Harry with small talk, asking her about her travels and the places she’s been. She responds in short, precise answers, but it’s enough to keep her attention off her drink.
As Harry is momentarily distracted by a group of rowdy patrons nearby, Louis deftly slips a tablet into her drink. The bartender doesn’t bat an eye; in this club, such things are all too common.
Harry turns back around and he pushes her drink towards her, raising his glass. She lifts hers in response, and they clink before taking a sip.
They continue their conversation, but Louis can see the drug starting to take effect. Harry’s eyelids droop slightly, and her speech becomes slower and more slurred. He knows it won’t be long now.
“I think I need some fresh air.” Harry mumbles, swallowing dryly. She tries to stand, wobbling on her feet, and Louis quickly moves to support her.
“Let me help you.” He says, guiding her towards the exit. Harry leans against him, unable to hold herself upright.
They reach his car, and Louis helps Harry into the passenger seat. She’s barely conscious now, her head lolling to the side. He closes the door gently and stops at the driver side, needing to take a moment to manage his thoughts. He knew he shouldn’t have come out tonight, but if not him, who else? If he weren’t here, Harry wouldn’t have gotten anyone as compassionate as him.
Staring at her vulnerable form, he can’t bring himself to do it. But if he doesn’t do it, he risks the lives of his family and himself. It was a dead end, but he considered one last thing. Hefner specifically chooses virgins. They’re more ‘inexperienced’ in his words, and they’re less likely to fight. But if Louis can…. defile her, then Hefner won’t want her anymore.
Louis nods to himself at his deduction and pulls the car door open, finally getting inside. He starts the car, deep in thought while he drives away. He’ll be doing Harry a favor by this, and though he could wait until she’s awake, he decides against it. This needs to be a quick job, that may be blurring the lines between consent, but for a good purpose. She’ll thank him later for this.
He drives to a secluded spot on the outskirts of town, a place he knows will be private, and where Hefner’s people won’t be able to find him. The weight of what he’s about to do presses heavily on him, but he convinces himself that it’s for her own good—better than the fate awaiting her with Hefner.
Pulling the car to a stop, he glances over at Harry. She’s still unconscious, her head resting against the window. Taking a deep breath, Louis gets out of the car and walks around to the passenger side. He opens the door and carefully lifts her out, carrying her to a nearby clearing.
He sets her down gently on the grass, seeing that she was out cold. Her skin was a sickly shade of white, but somehow her lips remained tinted. Louis could understand why Hefner chose her, she was subjectively attractive, even when her eyes were closed. Louis bites his lip, and kneels in front of her. He hates himself for what he’s about to do, but he sees no other way.
His hands tremble as he reaches her thighs, gently prodding her legs apart. He realizes that he can move her body however he wants with her in this state, having no control over her limbs, not even in sleep. She was practically a corpse.
Louis touches the hem of her dress, contemplating on whether he wants to remove it completely. He wants to make this as comfortable as possible, even if morally this wasn’t right, and technically she couldn’t even consent to it. But he wouldn’t see this woman again, and the reason behind why he’s doing this is far more traumatic than the actual situation.
He tells himself that it’s only for her safety, and even then, the justification feels hollow. Louis sighs and pulls her dress up to her waist, revealing her black panties. He tilts his head in endearment, trailing his hands up her milky thighs. He wondered what a supposed virgin like her would be doing in undergarments like that. Louis curls his fingers around the waistband and lowers them to her ankles. He looks up to see that she’s still knocked out, head lolled to the side.
Louis takes a deep breath and spreads her legs wide enough that he could fit between them. He has to try and work his way around getting her open if she can’t even react to it. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to get her stimulated if she wasn’t even conscious. And if she was a virgin, he’d have to get past her hymen without severely hurting her.
He starts by toying with her clit, firmly rubbing it around between his fingers. It was weird because she wasn’t conscious, he couldn’t know if it felt good or not. He looks down at her pussy, and she does look virginal. It was pretty, too—pink and unshaved, with plush, pillowy lips. Louis can feel himself stiffen in his pants at the sight of it.
With one hand, he continues to rub her clit, trying to stimulate her. The other hand begins to explore her entrance, gently at first, then with increasing pressure until he breaks through the barrier. He curls his finger inside her, feeling around her wet walls. He was surprised by how wet she was getting while unconscious, but he supposed that was a good thing. If she hadn’t, he would’ve had to just go through with it. There were no supplies this deep in a grass field, away from highways and civilization.
Louis continues to stroke her in time with his finger, adding another digit for good measure. He wishes he could hear what Harry potentially sounds like when she is awake. He imagines her moans must sound divine if it’s the same as her voice. It probably has that slow, sultry drawl to it. Louis would kill to hear it.
For now, all he could hear was his fingers moving in and out of her. The rhythmic sound, coupled with the sight of her body responding to his touch, fuels his desire. It was fascinating how her body could respond when she wasn’t even awake. Her body wants this, he thought, watching in awe as her hole greedily swallowed his fingers. He feels himself growing harder, the need to take her completely overwhelming him.
His breaths come faster as he quickens his pace, both with his fingers and the hand on her clit. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "I wish you could see yourself right now." He whispers, even though she can’t hear him.
He withdraws his fingers and quickly unzips his pants, freeing himself. His cock stands rigid against his stomach, swollen and aching for attention. He thumbs his slit, squeezing his hand around the head to keep himself from leaking anymore. He felt like a virgin himself again, looking down at the vulnerable woman. He feels a weird sense of power overcome him—like he likes the idea of her being unconscious.
Louis positions himself between her legs, her body limp and unresponsive. His hands move to her thighs, gripping them firmly to keep her in place. He angles her hips slightly, hoping to make the slide easier. Her legs, bent at the knees, fall open as he supports her, the cold night air brushing against her exposed skin.
He wants to see more of her skin, and now he’s tempted to take her entire dress off. His hands roam her body, caressing her breasts through the fabric of the dress before pulling it off completely. He licks his lips hungrily, squeezing the large mounds in his hands. He pinches her nipples between his fingers and rolls them around, watching as they slowly harden.
He slaps her tit once, watching how they bounce, then positions himself again. He presses a kiss to her inner thigh, and pushes into her slowly, enveloped in the velvety heat. He feels his muscles strain as her walls hug him like a vice, the perfect tight warmth. He penetrates her until he bottoms out, balls deep inside her. He was surprised by how far he could get. She was super tight around him, but it felt so fucking good, especially with the way she sporadically clenched around him.
Louis groans as he starts to move his hips, thrusting to her at a languid pace, though it took everything in him to not just ram inside her. Though she was out, he was still considerate. She would feel this whenever she wakes up, and he thinks better than to have her in pain. The least he can do is make it feel good for the both of them.
He holds her legs apart, retracting slightly before shoving himself back in. He tries to keep his eyes open, but it’s impossible with the way she feels around him. She’s wet enough that she’s leaking all over him, staining her thighs. Louis throws his head back, increasing the pace of his thrusts. Their skin starts to clap together, echoing in the dead silence of the night.
He slowly stops worrying about her, instead chasing after his own pleasure. His abdomen clenches as he nears release, pounding into her.
Louis hears a soft moan, and he doesn’t register it’s Harry. He’s too lost in the heat of the moment. When he finally opens his eyes, he sees Harry staring up at him with glossy emerald eyes, moaning as she becomes semi-conscious.
Louis recognizes that she’s waking up, but he doesn’t stop. If anything, the realization that she’s partially aware spurs him on, his thrusts becoming more urgent. He grips her hips tighter, holding her in place as he continues to fuck her.
“N-Net…” she mumbles weakly. She tries to push him away, but her limbs feel heavy and uncooperative. She’s too disoriented to fight back effectively, her body not responding the way she wants it to.
Louis finds that her pleas arouse him even more. Her helplessness and the small amount of resistance she manages to muster excites him. He leans down, his breath hot against her cold skin. He quietly hushes her in mock reassurance, releasing his hold on her legs so he can caress her face. “Just let it happen.”
Harry’s eyes flutter, tears slipping down her cheeks as she continues to moan softly, her body reacting against her will. Louis relishes the way her body responds to him, her inner walls holding onto him despite her weak attempts to push him away.
“Please… stop…”
Louis drowns her barely audible cries out, thrusting into her harder, deeper, driven by the power and control he feels over her. He grips her thighs, spreading her legs wider, and loses himself in the sensation.
Harry’s whimpers mix with his groans, symphonized in the quiet clearing. Louis’ movements become frantic as he nears release, his body straining with the effort. He releases one of her legs to wrap his hand around her neck, using it as leverage. Her breasts bounce from the force, adding onto the passionate soundtrack of their bodies joining.
His grip tightens around her neck, not enough to choke her but enough to assert dominance. The pressure sends a shiver down her spine, and her eyes widen in fear. Louis’ gaze is fixated on her, taking in every expression, every reaction.
Her fear encourages him. His hips piston, the rhythm of their bodies colliding becomes more erratic. Louis makes the sound of their skin louder each time he shoves himself into her, addicted to the erotic noise, and the pained ones she makes. His groin twists and turns with the intensity of his movements, every thrust teetering him closer to the edge.
Harry’s eyes, glazed and unfocused, stare up at him. Her wet, batting eyelashes glistening with shedding tears. Her cheeks are stained as they roll down her skin. She tries to speak, to beg him to stop, but her voice is weak, barely audible over the pounding of their flesh. Her body is betraying her, despite the violation. The way her lips part with each labored breath, the subtle arch of her back, all attain his satisfaction.
She gives up on protesting, her voice dying out, likely falling back out of consciousness. The sight of her so helpless, so at his mercy, drives him wild. He can feel the tension building, his release imminent.
Her body shudders beneath him, a final, futile attempt to resist. Louis’s grip on her neck tightens slightly, his other hand digging into her thigh as he pounds into her with renewed vigor. The look of despair on her face is etched into his mind, fueling his desire.
With a final, powerful thrust, Louis holds her thighs tightly and spills inside her. His body tenses, and he lets out a low, guttural groan as he cums. He watches Harry’s face contort, her tears falling faster now.
He falls on top of her, the last waves of pleasure washing over him. His hips roll slightly as he milks himself out in her, his breath ragged and tired. He stays there for a moment, savoring the feeling of her body beneath his, before finally pulling out and sitting back on his heels. He looks down at her, caressing her ruined state.
She was truly a doll in itself. He understood why Hefner wanted her. She looks beautiful post-sex, her broken, tear-streaked face still holding beauty. Her cheeks were inhumanely flushed, reminding him of a dollete.
She will understand eventually that he saved her. A woman like her doesn’t deserve to be in Hefner’s world. Harry lies there, her body limp and exhausted. The night air is cool against her skin, her curls fluttering softly as a brush of wind passes by.
Louis suddenly remembers that her dress had been removed, and works to pull it back over her legs. Her thighs are stained in cum and her own lubricant, and Louis’ relieved to see there isn’t any blood. It meant he’d done a good job.
Harry barely keeps her eyes open through the process, her consciousness slipping away once more. He presses a gentle kiss to her cheek before standing up, adjusting his pants back over his knees. He considers leaving her alone in the grass, but that wouldn’t be good for her recovery.
With a sigh, he bends down and gathers her limp body in his arms. Her head lolls against his shoulder, her breathing shallow and uneven. He carefully carries her back to the car and places her in the passenger seat.
He did what he thought was necessary—and was. Hefner won’t want her anymore, and she’ll be free. If she will remember this moment, he’s the one that saved her. She’d be thankful if she knew what situation Hefner would have put her in.
Louis drives to a motel just to give her a shower and wash his DNA off, then leaves her in front of a grocery store the next morning, knowing that she’ll be found and safe.