Trigger warnings: Non-consent, blackmail, revenge porn, dubious consent, high school bullying, humiliation, degradation, and a forced D/s dynamic.

Note: This story, including all names and people, is entirely fictional and not based on any real life experiences or events.

If you like this story and want to read more, you can find a list of all my stories here!💜 You can also find a list of the parts of this story whenever they are published.🥰

Eight years ago

Cole, age 18

I never thought I’d see the day Poppy and Brendan would break up, but that’s exactly what happened over the weekend.

The final snows of winter have melted, and the sun is both literally and figuratively shining. Both Poppy and Brendan just seem angry, though, and some sick part of my mind just gets off on it.

Not that I want to see Poppy angry but seeing her feel anything other than lust for Brendan is a win in my book.

I’ve been working up the courage to ask her out for a while now. It’s definitely too soon after their breakup, but with only months until the end of the year, I don’t want to miss my chance. I also don’t want to risk her going back to Brendan, though I can’t tell how likely that is.

It'd help knowing what caused their breakup, but it’s not like I can just ask. But when I see Haley and Brendan kissing behind the school, I get my suspicions.

I sit behind Poppy during English class, silently going over what I’m going to ask her in my head over and over again. By the time the bell rings, she’s already out of her seat, and I have to rush to catch up to her.

“Poppy!” I call, just as she reaches her locker.

She angrily shoves her books into the locker, then turns to glare at me. “What?” she snaps.

Her tone briefly makes me lose my courage, but I take a breath and begin talking again. “I’m sorry about you and Brendan.” I pause, expecting her to say “thanks” but she says nothing, so I keep going. “I know we haven’t hung out much, but I was wondering–“

Her eyes narrow, and I don’t get another word out before she blurts, “What? Wondering what, Cole?”

I falter again, and my voice shakes a little when I say, “I wanted to ask you out?” I clear my throat. “I mean, I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me.”

There’s a pause, one in which Poppy just glares at me with pure fire in her eyes. After a minute, she finally speaks. “I would rather die.”

“What?”

“I would rather die than ever, ever go out with you, Cole Beckett. You are absolutely disgusting. How fucking dare you? Now that Brendan and I aren’t together anymore, it’s suddenly open season on me? On my body?”

“No, Poppy, that’s not what I–“

“Fuck you, Cole.” Tears well in her eyes, and my heart shatters. “Do you even know what Brendan did? You don’t even care, you just want to fuck me.”

“What did he do?” I ask carefully.

“He cheated on me.” Poppy slams her locker shut. “And yet I’d still go back to him before I would ever go out with you.”

She doesn’t let me say another word before she walks away, leaving me in shattered pieces in the middle of the hallway.

Now

Poppy, age 26

I cry out when Cole pushes all the way into me, forcing me to feel every inch of him. He’s completely unleashed the most sadistic parts of himself, and with every thrust, it feels like he’s making sure it hurts me as much as possible.

He places one hand on my waist, gripping so hard I’m scared I’ll get a bruise, and his other hand grips my hair. He twists it in his fist, pulling it until my head snaps back, pushing a shriek out of my throat.

The table keeps getting pushed with every painful thrust, all the way until it knocks into the window. The gorgeous sight of the city below is all I can see, except for the reflection of Cole taking me from behind.

He groans when I involuntarily clench around him. It’s all I can do to not scream at how rough he’s being. “Such a tight fucking cunt,” he growls, giving my ass a slap. “This tight little pussy belongs to me, doesn’t it, Poppy?”

I don’t answer him. I thin my lips to keep from making noises. The way he’s relentlessly fucking me hurts like hell, but I’m not convinced I wouldn’t moan as well. I’m growing wet at the friction, despite how much I should hate this.

When I don’t answer, he tugs at my hair and pushes himself all the way inside me, making me hiss in pain. “Fucking answer me,” he demands, and I know I don’t have a choice.

“Yes,” I grit out, relief flooding my senses when he finally starts moving again, though his pace is slower.

“Say it.” His voice is gritty and rough, and it sends shivers down my spine.

“Ah–” I gasp. I don’t think I’m able to form words right now, but Cole isn’t interested in giving me reprieve. “It belongs to you,” I force out, heat rushing to my face at the degrading words.

“Say it properly.” His thrusts quicken, forcing several gasps and moans out of my mouth.

“My pussy belongs to you.” I can barely get the words out, but Cole isn’t satisfied yet.

He tugs at my hair again, pulling so hard that I have to brace myself on my palms as my back is angled upwards. “For the last fucking time, Poppy. Say. It.”

Oh, fuck. The pain is overwhelming my senses, but so is the way his demanding voice is affecting me.

Still, it takes a lot of effort to repeat the exact same words he said. “My…” I gasp when he slaps my ass. “My tight little– Fuck.” Every word is a stutter, each syllable broken by his aggressive thrusts. “My tight little pussy belongs to you!” I have to force it out in a rush to avoid getting interrupted again.

He groans, like he’s wanted nothing more to hear me say those degrading words. “Good fucking girl,” he growls, and his thrusts quicken even more.

He slaps my ass again, and he does it so hard that I can’t help but try to block him with my hands.

He grabs my flailing wrists, and surprisingly pulls out and lets go of me, though I don’t fool myself into thinking he’s letting me go. “Don’t move,” he commands, and I don’t dare disobey.

He walks into his bedroom and a minute later returns. I hear the handcuffs before I feel them fastening around my wrists behind my back.

“Please don’t,” I whimper. I already know I can’t tell him no, but being restrained with metal around my wrists makes me feel truly helpless.

He fists my hair again, pulling it until my chest is hovering over the table. Without my hands to brace myself, all of my upper body is being supported by his grip in my hair, and a pained groan escapes me at the pain at my scalp.

Another slap lands at my ass. “Shut the fuck up,” he barks out at the same time as he enters me again. He begins thrusting again, and the friction, still bordering on painful, somehow gives me inklings of pleasure. “Keep your mouth shut or I’ll shut it for you.”

I whimper at the threat but do my best to keep quiet. It’s so fucking difficult, both because of how much his grip to my hair and his slaps to my ass hurt, but also because it’s starting to feel good, the way he’s fucking me.

Eventually, Cole lets go of the handcuffs and reaches down between my legs. I try to move away from his hand when he touches my clit, but of course he doesn’t let that slide.

Cole pulls out, and a second later, searing pain shoots through my entire body when his hand comes down onto my pussy and slaps it as hard as he can.

I scream, desperately writhing away from him, but he grips my hair tighter to keep me steady as he gives me another slap. “Stop fighting me,” he demands. “You fucking belong to me.” Another slap, another scream. “I’ll do whatever I want to you, and you’re going to fucking take it.”

He slaps it one last time, then plunges two fingers into me. The juxtaposition of his punishing slaps and the way his fingers send pleasure through me melts my brain.

He’s almost gentle, which only confuses and frustrates me further. But of course, the gentleness doesn’t last long. Soon, he’s thrusting harder and harder with his fingers, and by the time he pulls out, I’m sure I’ll feel sore for weeks.

He lines himself up with me again and pushes his cock inside me. The fingers he just had inside me go to my mouth. “Suck,” he commands, and I helplessly obey, lapping up my juices from his fingers. “You taste that, Poppy? That’s you getting off on this. That’s you fucking loving this.”

I groan, not entirely from pain, and he finds his rhythm again. His fingers return to my clit, and with the pain of his slaps still sending throbbing pain through me, I know better than to fight him.

He rubs at the bud at a leisurely pace, which is almost impressive considering how hard and unrestrained his thrusts into me are. The pain and pleasure of everything he’s doing to me intertwines in a way that muddles my brain, and shamefully pushes a moan out of my throat.

Cole laughs. “Such a little slut.” His humiliating comment is punctuated with a slap to my ass. He keeps rubbing my clit, keeps tugging at my hair. “You wanna come?”

I shake my head, immediately regretting it when it makes pain shoot through my scalp. “No,” I hiss, but Cole just laughs.

“Such a fucking liar,” he says. “Your wet little pussy is clenching around me so tightly, Poppy. I know you’re close.”

“I’m fucking not!” I snap, paling as soon as the words leave my mouth. Cole is already unhinged, provoking him is the most reckless thing I could do right now.

Cole only grips my hair tighter, and his other hand, still wet from my juices, wraps around my throat. He keeps thrusting, growing faster and more unhinged, all the way until he bottoms out and comes deep inside me.

I breathe a huge sigh of relief when he lets go and my cheek meets the cool wood of the table. He stays inside me for a few moments, then slowly pulls out. I wince a little at the friction. I feel sore and used, and I don’t think I’ll be able to sit down for a week.

His fingers begin toying with me again, pushing his come inside me and rubbing it every which way he can. I groan, incredibly sore but also incredibly desperate to come, despite the rough treatment Cole’s subjected me to.

His fingers explore inside me, and soon, I feel him kneeling behind me. “Cole, please,” I beg. “I can’t.”

He drives his fingers all the way into me, his thumb rubbing my clit at the same time. I groan. “Does it look like I give a shit?” he asks. He shuffles closer, and at first I think he’s about to lick me, but then I feel his teeth around my inner thigh.

I yelp, instinctively trying to wriggle away from him, earning a slap to my ass. “Oh, god…” I whimper. “Please stop, Cole. It hurts.”

His heavy breaths fan my core, his forehead resting on my ass. “You beg so pretty for me.” I’m momentarily confused by his comment, but then I feel his wet tongue against my opening.

I stir at the contact, but it doesn’t take long before hints of pleasure turn into a heavy weight in my lower abdomen. I moan, and Cole does the same, completely unbothered by his own come leaking out of me.

He keeps going, despite my weak protests and cries. When I give a particularly loud protest, he bites me again, and I try my hardest to keep my noises to myself.

My knees are shaking, and I’m convinced I’d collapse on the floor if not for the tight grip Cole has on my legs, spreading me for him. Just like with the way he fucked me, he’s unrestrained, feasting on me like a man starved.

He sucks my clit into his mouth, lightly nibbling it with his teeth, just enough to hurt. I yelp, quickly thinning my lips again. But even that can’t stop the groaning and moaning desperately trying to escape my mouth.

And when this keeps going, I can’t keep from begging again, though now, it’s not for him to stop. “Oh, god, right there. Fuck.” I’m so close, desperately grinding back into his face.

Cole groans. “Come on my face, Poppy. Now.”

His demanding tone pushes me over the edge. I scream, every overwhelming feeling of pain and pleasure flooding my senses. He bites my clit in the middle of my climax, ensuring that even as overwhelming pleasure grips me, I still feel the pain he gives me.

It’s everything Cole makes me feel. Pain and pleasure combined into one. Terror and admiration, hate and lust.

I’m crying once I come back down, no longer caring that I’m making noise. Everything hurts, and yet I got off on it. Cole is supposed to despise me, yet despite how I provoked him with my attempted escape, he made me come on his face like he’s been dying to feel do so for years.

I hiccup and sob. I can’t wipe my tears from my face with the handcuffs around my wrists, leaving my face wet with tears and sweat, wisps of hair sticking to it.

Cole gets up and unlocks my handcuffs. But that’s all he does. He doesn’t help me up, doesn’t soothe me. He doesn’t give a fuck about how much he hurt me. Instead, he gives me yet another slap to my ass and says, “You try to escape me again, and I won’t be so gentle, Poppy.”

With that confusing warning, he goes back to bed, leaving me a crying mess on the table.

On Monday, Cole barges into my office while I’m grading papers and demands I suck his cock. I do it, of course, but my mind is reeling.

I realised the second the demand left his mouth that this is the exact same thing that happened last week. Just like during the dinner with his colleagues, I felt like we made real progress. I actually liked him when he was being nice to me, and I could even fool myself into believing we could be a real couple.

But just like last week, he tears down my hope and throws it in the trash just like that. The way he tortured me for trying to escape him was overwhelming, reminding me of just how little he cares for me. I belong to him. I’m little more than his property, and frankly it’s a miracle he was even kind enough to serve me dinner before he hurt me.

It's a wild ride, the way he blends emotions and sensations until I can’t tell which side is up. It’s left me wondering just how much of it is intentional. Does he want me confused? Does he want me wondering how he really feels for me, and how much is an act? Is it all a sick game to him?

But then I also wonder why everything feels so real. When he told me of his little sister, it didn’t feel like a game. It felt like he genuinely wanted to tell me about her.

And then when he caught me trying to escape him, he was angry. He was frustrated and pissed off at me, but more than that, I felt disappointment. Like he was disappointed that I wanted to escape him.

If that’s the case, then he’s crazier than I thought. I don’t know who would want to be blackmailed into being someone’s sex slave.

So, that leaves me with the conclusion that he’s doing all this on purpose. He wants me confused about what he really feels for me, and that’s certainly working. Because when he finishes down my throat, he doesn’t leave. He calls me a good girl and gently pets my head, like he’s soothing me for being forced to blow him,

But knowing that it’s part of his sick game makes it easier to not recognise his kindness as real, despite how real it feels. Knowing that the real him thinks of me as a worthless whore makes it easier to deal with him, despite how much it hurts me.

I spend days thinking about this, about what I’m supposed to think or do when it comes to Cole.  By Friday, Cole has barely spoken to me beyond demanding I fuck him, and it honestly feels like we’ve gone one step forward and ten steps back.

On Friday night, Ava barges into my apartment and declares she’s staying the night, and of course I’m powerless to resist her. In truth, I’ve missed her a lot. We haven’t seen each other since we went to the bar together, and I desperately need to talk with her about Cole. I obviously can’t tell her everything, but just talking to someone about him will help.

We settle on the couch with a glass of wine each, and I decide to not beat around the bush. “You remember Cole?”

Her eyes flare. “The guy who was bothering you at the bar? Yeah, I remember him. What happened with him anyway?”

I hum and nod. “I didn’t tell you the truth about him.” I pause, waiting for Ava to acknowledge me with a curt nod and raised eyebrows. Now that the conversation has started, the words seem to sit on the tip of my tongue, unable to get out.

I take a deep breath, wringing my hands in my lap, before continuing. “We went to high school together during our senior year.”

“Oh, wow,” Ava says, probably believing that’s the full extent of my story. “I can imagine that’s awkward.” She laughs good heartedly, but it dies down when she catches sight of my wince. “Poppy?”

“I used to bully him,” I blurt.

Ava doesn’t say anything for a while, but when I look at her face, I don’t see judgement or loathing. Her face is blank, and when she finally speaks, she surprises me by just saying, “I see.”

“What?” I ask, voice weak yet surprised. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, I obviously wasn’t there, and I don’t know what you did to him or how he feels about it.” She takes a breath, clasping her hands around one of mine. “But Poppy, I know you didn’t have an easy time in school, with Brendan and everything. And I’m not saying that’s an excuse, not at all, but it’s an explanation. Beyond that, I know you, and I have for many years. I don’t know what you did, but I know you’re not that girl anymore.”

I’m speechless. I expected judgement, which I very well know I deserve, and maybe I’d have to beg her to understand that I regret what I did. But I did not expect her to react like this.

“Ava, I can’t…” Can’t what, exactly? I can’t take her kindness and non-judgement. I can’t accept that I’m simply not that girl anymore. I can’t avoid taking accountability.

She smiles. “I know, babe.” She worries her bottom lip on a pause. “But, um, have you, like, apologised to him?”

“I– Kinda?” I reply, because aside from my half apology when he barged into my classroom the first time, I haven’t said anything close to sorry. I’d like to say it’s because he doesn’t deserve one, or that I don’t think he’d be interested in one, but I know it’s because part of me doesn’t want to acknowledge who we were to each other eight years ago. Apologising and taking accountability is important, but my stupid, stupid brain doesn’t want to admit defeat.

It also doesn’t help that he’s still so damn cruel to me. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve an apology, but it does mean it’s nearly impossible to sit down and explain to him that I’m sorry.

Ava grimaces. “Yeah, you gotta get on that, like, yesterday.” She takes a sip of her wine, then hurries to swallow as though a thought occurred to her. “But what are you two to each other anyway? Are you dating? Hooking up?”

I swallow, then give the answer I’d prepared to give. “I don’t know.” Because days spent racking my brain, trying to come up with an answer to that, yielded no results. Any details I give would be either half-truths or lies, and I’d risk getting caught on them later. And if I told her the truth, I have no doubt she’d keep me away from him and he’d post the video in a heartbeat.

She chuckles. “Yeah, I’ve had a few of those.” After a beat, she says, “I get it, Poppy. And, again, not at all saying bullying is okay. But you shouldn’t feel bad for something you did as a kid.”

“I was eighteen, Ava,” I correct.

“Still, you get my point. That said,” she starts, pointing at me, “you have to apologise to him. Even if you’ve changed, even if you think there’s no point. An apology goes a long way. The sooner you get around to it, the better.”

I sigh. “I know, you’re right.” I tip my head up, wiping my palms on my sweaty face.

“Oh, Poppy?”

“Yeah?” I face her again.

“Did you sleep with him at Jay’s party? Be honest.” I nod, and she fucking squeals. “Oh my god, tell me everything.”

I tell her the bare bones, trying to leave out as much detail as I can for Cole’s sake. Why am I trying to protect him? I don’t know. It just feels right, even now.

“Wait,” Ava says after a sip of wine. “But did you know then who he was? Didn’t you ask for his last name when you came back out?”

I wince. “I didn’t.”

“Holy shit. Did he know?” Her excitement and horror are barely contained.

I look away, nodding and saying, “He did.”

“Oh my god! What an asshole!” she exclaims. “Wait, let me guess. He wanted to fuck you to take revenge or something?”

Oh, if only that were true.

That’s what I had thought as well, at least until he made everything that much worse. Still, I nod, since it’s the only reasonable explanation for why he wouldn’t tell me who he was before sleeping with me.

“Wow,” Ava breathes, looking shocked. “I guess that makes sense. I mean, why it’s so complicated and all that. If that’s your foundation and all.” She’s rambling, trying to piece together the few puzzle pieces I’ve given her, but she’s surprisingly close to hitting the nail on the head.

We spend the rest of the night chatting about anything else. I don’t think she can tell I’m leaving out large parts of the story. She probably thinks my visibly discomfort is due to how awkward my constructed story would be on its own. But god, if she knew the truth, she wouldn’t be so chill about this.

Cole doesn’t contact me the rest of the night, thank god, and the next morning when we wake up, Ava and I idly chat around some cups of coffee before she heads home.

And just half an hour later, I get a text from Cole, which ruins my mood for the entire morning.

Cole: Send me a video of you coming on your vibrator. You have fifteen minutes.

The demand angers me, yet I have no choice but to indulge it. And when I do, I try to think about anything but him. Anything but the way he fucked me last week, or the way I felt sore for days after. Anything but the way he fills out any piece of clothing he wears in a mouth-watering way. Anything but the way his tongue feels so good in my mouth.

Anything but the way I could so easily fool myself into liking him when he’s not dangling the video above my head.

I come hard, grinding the vibrator against my clit in full view of the camera. I realise that I’m giving him more ammunition to use against me, but I’m beyond caring, and I send the video to him with a shrug. What he has on me would already ruin my life. What’s the matter in sending one where I just masturbate?

“Fucking asshole,” I mutter when he doesn’t even respond to my message. I can see that he’s seen it, but he refuses to respond, which just makes me angrier.

A few hours later, I get knock on the door, and when I answer, my heart drops as I see Brendan standing in the doorway.

“Brendan?” I ask, like I’m unsure if I’m seeing right.

“Hi, Poppy.” An awkward pause. “Look, I realise this is dumb, but I wanted to…” He sighs. “I wanted to ask you out again.” His eyes are so hopeful, like a little boy asking for the last cookie in the cookie jar.

And when my eyes narrow, all that hope transforms into anger. “Absolutely not,” I say firmly.

“Why not?” he demands. “Look, I realise I fucked up back in school, but I’m not like that anymore. I’ve changed.”

Even if that were true, I still wouldn’t give him a chance. Even if I wasn’t stuck in Cole’s sadistic grip, I would still never give him a chance.

“The answer’s no,” I say, shutting the door.

But then Brendan’s hand shoots up, gripping the door tightly. “Don’t you do that. Don’t you shut me out.”

I push slightly harder, but his grip stays firm. “Brendan. Let go.”

“No.”

Heart racing, I struggle a bit more, until eventually he says, “Fuck sakes.” He throws his entire weight into the door, forcing it open until it smacks the wall.

I shriek when he barges in like he owns the place. “Get out!” I demand, but he only prowls further in.

“It’s Cole, isn’t it? What the fuck does he have that I don’t, hm? Why the fuck are you with him of all people?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t pretend you’re a saint, Poppy. You called him a freak. You said he probably has a small dick. You said you’d rather die than be with him.” He takes a deep, heavy breath. “What has changed? Because he certainly hasn’t.”

Beyond the hazy mist of anger, I can tell Brendan is vulnerable and insecure. But what I can’t understand is why he feels that way about me.

“Where’s all this coming from?” I ask, cautiously, like he’s a deranged animal.

“I know I fucked up,” he says. “But I was a stupid kid, and I’ve changed for the better. Why won’t you give me a chance, but you’ll give the freak another chance?”

It’s not lost on me how similar his non-apology sounds to the one I gave Cole that day he barged into my classroom. It’s scary, how similar it is, and I think I understand now why he didn’t accept it.

“I’m not with Cole,” I explain, inwardly cringing at the way his eyes widen with hope again. “It’s complicated. But even if I was single, I can’t be with you, Brendan.” My voice is as soothing and calm as I can make it, but it obviously doesn’t do much to calm him down.

He moves closer to me, and my heart leaps to my throat when his hands twitch. He’s holding himself back, and I realise I have to be very fucking careful if I don’t want him to attack me. He’s way stronger than me, so I have to be smart about this.

“We can be…” I gulp. “Friends?”

He snarls. “Friends? No.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” I say.

“Just…fuck, let me take you on a date. A real date, one where I can show you just how much I’ve changed.” His lips tip up in a smirk, and bile rises in my throat at the implication.

I close my eyes, realising there’s nothing I can do but say, “Fine.” He’s got me cornered, and with the way he gives me a broad smile, I can tell he doesn’t even realise it. He thinks I mean it, that I’m not just trying to appease him.

And now I have to go out with him, or risk this happening again.

Fuck my life.

“Hell yes,” he exclaims, and I barely keep from rolling my eyes. “How about next Friday?”

I nod, knowing I can’t risk agitating him again.

He gives me a creepy smile, then tucks my hair behind my ears. “Thank you, Poppy.” He leans down, kissing me on the forehead, and I inwardly cringe. “See you soon.”

He leaves, and when the door slams shut, I take several deep breaths, willing myself to calm down.

What the fuck did I just do?

I don’t know what Brendan is capable of. I don’t know if he’d escalate, or if he’d back off. But most of all, I don’t know what Cole is going to say.

He’s possessive as fuck over me, and I know he’d lose his mind if he found out I’m going out with Brendan. Not only am I not allowed per his rules, but since it’s him of all people, I know Cole would punish me beyond what I could imagine.

“Fuck me,” I mutter, racking my brain for a way out of this that doesn’t involve Cole. I’m stuck between them now, but one is definitely way worse than the other, at least in terms of consequences if I were to break things off.

After a few minutes of thought, I decide to go on the damn date. I’ll make sure it goes horribly, and then Brendan will never want to see me again, and Cole never has to know.

It’s an incredibly stupid plan, but hey, at least it’s a plan.

Thank you so much for reading!💜