The Ghost Boy Who Bends Me Over

(2) "Love, I live here."

"W-what? That can't be. You couldn't be here if- You're shitting me." I still pull away because while he may not be a supernatural entity, he was still a person in my house who was verbally harassing me. So either way, I was shítting bricks.

"Love, didn't you move here with the hopes of seeing a ghost? And now that you've seen one and you think it's bullshít." He places the laptop down on the bed, and I close my eyes hoping that he'd be gone when I opened them. How would this man know this particular reason for why I moved here? Was he stalking me?! Calm down. Almost any one who willingly moves into a place like this is either a.cheap, or b. searching for ghosts. Everybody knows that.

"Please get out." I jump up from my bed as fast as a cat jumps from the floor to the couch. There's an amused glint in his eye as he makes no move to leave. He just seems to be waiting for me to make a move and when I don't? He crawls across the bed toward me and before I know it, he's directly in front of me, and we're almost in like a standoff. I'm left standing stiff as a board as he stares at me, eyes unmoving, "Me? Get out? Love, I live here. Why don't you get out, hm?", he pokes a finger at my chest. I step back and fold my arms, analyzing this boy. I wasn't sure if I liked him. But I did want him out though.

"You can't make me." I retort childishly, taking another step away from him. I mean his house? He had to be kidding me. He seems to analyze the space between us, grinning before taking a step forward, enjoying the way I jump at his sudden movement. I tried to think about anything else but I just keep remembering how he's offered to bend me over his lap. It'd be a sèxy dream come true if it were someone I knew. Maybe it was sexy anyway. But also, reasonably, I was scared of him.

A ghost, I smirk at the thought. How dumb did he think I'd be? Him? A ghost. I watched the little things, like his breathing, his blinking, and even his body language. All seemed pretty human-ish to me. There was no way I'd ever encounter a ghost in this lifetime.

"Oh really", his expression is no longer cocky, or amused, or playful. Now it's begun to get dark, almost sinister, "Love, I think deep down inside you know that I can make you do lots of things." He steps forward, staring at me evilly from below his eyelids. At this point, there's no more arguing with this stranger. I had to get away from him.

I try to run past him but his hand quickly snakes around my waist, pulling me back as he sat on my bed and pulled me over his lap like the man in the video had done to the woman. His hand easily held my hands behind my back and pinned them down pretty well.

"Babe, I think we know better than to run." He grits through his teeth, quickly finding his way to my light pink pajama shorts, pulling them down. I squirm in his grip but he was fùcking stronger than Jason. My heart was beating fast and I was out of breath, and thats when he hit me.

Smack.

The sound was muffled sort of with the blockage of my cotton panties, and I felt my lower region start pulsing like how it did when I watched porn.

The smacks are steady but a bit mild as he smacks each of my buttcheeks from the bottom, almost as if he was intentionally jiggling each one with the its.

"My, what a nice áss you've got..." He trails, his strong hand jiggling one of my buttcheeks roughly as his large hand picks up and he smacks me again much harder this time around, "You know this is mine, yeah? I wanna hear you say it." He roughly rubs my aśs, causing my to bite my lip and shut my eyes in embarrassment.

   "It's yours." I squeak out, keeping my eyes closed, hoping it'd make him leave me alone. It I know better when he pulls my head backward my my ponytail and leans down by my ear,

  "It's yours, huh? I don't think that's what I wanted you to say," He abruptly lets go of my hair and brings his hand up much higher before, bringing it down and roughly rubbing my ass so that it'd jiggle in his open palm, causing me to struggle against his death grip to my own grave disappointment. "So right now, you're gonna repeat it. But this time, I want you to tell me that you're mine. You can do that, yeah?" He says in a way that I can't describe. Like he knew his power over me and wanted to live in it. Like he planned to treat me like this for days. Weeks. Months. But I'd soon be able to call the police on him. Then he'd be sorry.

I just say what he wants me to say, "I'm yours." And as soon as I say so, he brings two fingers down to my area and strokes me softly over my panties, turning the feeling down there into torture.

"Good girl." He compliments, bringing his hand back up to my áss, finishing the work he'd started. The hits getting harder and harder, and me being unable to do nothing but struggle in his grip and plead and cry. When he does stop, he roughly tosses me onto the bed like I was some luggage, leaving me to cry into my bed sheets.

  And as if that torture that left my ass on fire wasn't enough, he says something he knew that in this moment he could say and it'd definitely some how embarrass me much much more. Which although it seemed impossible, it definitely wasn't.

  "Your mine now. Cool with that?"