You decide to tell the truth. Sort of.

The consequences of angering him with a lie are too great. You'd rather humiliate yourself with a partial truth than risk pissing him off. "I was thinking," you stammer out in a small voice,"of what it would be like to be ****."

His movement stills as your words sink in. Then he laughs. It's a mean, cruel, delighted laugh, and you think you'll dream about it in both wet dreams and nightmares. "Women," he says derisively as he leans down and pulls your head by the hair to look back at him. "You all pretend you want more from life, that you want to be equals, that you don't need men - but look at you, you're just a baby! You can't claim the excuse of not being raised any differently, you're the new generation and you still. Want. To. Be. Fucked." He punctuates each word with a vicious thrust of his hips as he stares at you, eye to eye. "Isn't that right, fuckmeat?"

You swallow thickly. "Yes," you whisper through dry lips. The admission warms something in you. A thought occurs to you that while you'd had **** fantasies, for some reason you hadn't made the connection that you, a woke, well-educated college student, longed to be treated as nothing more as a rapewhore. You can't blame the Rules - you made the Rules!

A reedy moan escapes your mouth as you realize that your alleyway **** was right: you were very, very happy to be where you are now, even as he shifts his angle and makes you wince.

Now that he can see your face, he doesn't miss a thing. "You like the pain, don't you rapebait?"

"No?" You respond, and you're not being defiant, you're honestly not sure; you hasten to clarify. "I...I like...the pain is something- I can't do anything about," he gives you a savage smile as his next thrust makes you grunt with pain.

"Proves you're powerless and weak?" he goads, giving her hair a good yank.

"Yesss," you breathe, tears of humiliation and pain welling up.

"You want to walk around and know that any man could have you at any time," he decides. Something in your face gives you away, because he frowns at you. "Really, you're not a walking talking cocksleeve for. the. taking?" Again, he punctuates his mean words with hard thrusts.

"That's freeuse," you grit around a gasp as the hand not holding tight to your hair twists your nipples.

He stares at you as his thrusts shallow out, then he starts laughing that cruel laughter again. "Oh, you are beautiful, rapebait," he says sincerely, and while you can tell he means it you don't quite know what he means.

He lets go of your hair, and grabs your arms with both hands instead. He folds them behind your back and uses them as leverage to really pound your ass. You hang your head, tears making your vision blurry, as he fucks you. This is who you are, you think, someone who wants to be bent to a man's will and **** to submit through pain and pleasure. Having your will be broken is amazing.

Your alleyman **** slams pelvis into your asscheeks one last time as he comes with a grunt.