Louise Collier was an artist, and at 16, still very much an awkward teenager. Her body was not developing as fast as her mind, and this was among the many things which served to make her unpopular. She had a great tendancy to internalize everything, and when she didn't, she only externalized by talking to Katelyn, her best friend, or writing poetry. She was in no manner assertive and avoided all conflicts if possible. She hadn't quite lost the baby-pudge of her stomache, but she was relatively in shape--she had wide hips and fairly full breasts which she made no attempt to mask; she felt it was her one asset, and she had long ago made the decision that there should be at least one thing about herself to flaunt. Besides that, wearing low-cut shirts made her feel objectified; though she considered herself fairly feministic, it was a nice change from the day-to-day intellectual attention she recieved.

Lawrence McCade was to the unfamiliar eye a towering, frighteningly dark figure--deep brown eyes which could bore into a person's soul; black hair which always had the same kept part on the left side of his head; thin lips which rarely lifted into a smile; a once well-built body which had gone slightly softer with age. He was by no means an amiable person--this is the reason that, at fourty-two, his wife had left him and the four children they'd concieved together. This only served to make him unhappier and lonelier, and most neighbors and acquaintances shyed away from him for this reason--only one family, the Colliers, supported him through watching his children whilst he worked. They had four children as well, all of whom were roughly equal in age difference with his own young. The oldest were his daughter, Katelyn,15, and Louise, who had just turned sixteen. She stayed with Katelyn almost every day, either spending the night at her house or at Katelyn's. Louise couldn't get enough of Katelyn's house. Everything there was so fun--hot-dog cookouts and late-night slumber parties where the two and their siblings would stay up watching Unsolved Mysteries as long as they could to see if they'd have wild nightmares.

The only factor Louise wasn't crazy about was Lawrence . . . she always had the distinct feeling he didn't want her around. Moreover, he didn't seem like a very safe person. All the other Collier children thought he was wonderful. Perhaps they knew him better. She still couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding she had as she approached the McCade residence on a Friday afternoon in late November.

She was to meet Katelyn for a study session before their English exam, and Katelyn was having trouble understanding archetypes. She assumed Katelyn was already home, because the sun was falling behind the trees now, casting a pink-orange hue over the street, and an evening wind had begun to blow loose leaves from the Water Oaks in the front yard. Louise followed the path to the door and rapped her knuckles against it as hard as she could, though it barely made a sound. She paused; when no one came, she tried again, harder this time. A moment later the door swung open and Lawrence stood towering above her--she couldn't make out his face as the houselights weren't on.

"Hi . . . is Katelym home yet?" Louise rubbed her knuckles against the palm of her other hand.

"Louise--Come in--are you two doing something today" He stepped aside and she entered the house--her eyes easily adjusted to the dim room, and she put clasped her hands in front of her. She wore a long-sleeved black vee-neck shirt which crept very low on her chest and a knee-length silk skirt, also black.

Her feet tiwtched nervously in her heels. "Just studying."

"Oh. Well, she'll be back shortly. She's with her mom right now."

"Her--oh-" She shook her head. Katelyn hadn't seen her mother in years, so this was fairly surprising to Louise. This fact was obvious to the man before her.

" . . . She moved back to the States," he said, "just showed up this afternoon. To take them out to dinner. Sit down."

Louise didn't want to sit down--the situation felt very awkward, and she didn't like being alone with this man, but she obliged anyway, perching at the edge of the couch.

"That's surprising," Louise said, and tried to give him a sympathetic smile. He smiled back at her, and she thought maybe it was the first time he'd smiled in a while.

"So, I was making dinner for the girls. I guess we'll have to eat it, right?" He nudged his head towards te entrance to the kitchen. "Come on . . . it's Hamburger Helper."

A voice in Louise's head said *no*, whispering urgently. She wanted very badly to leave and go home. But she couldn't leave him here, couldn't deny his hospitality.

"Sure thing," she said.

--

"Good?" Lawrence asked carefully as he took her dish from in front of her. "I modified the recipe a little, so it wouldn't taste, you know . . . like shit."

"Wonderful, thank you." Louise replied. Most of the dinner had been silent, awkward--she wished Katelyn would just get back, but felt guilty for thinking that--after all, she was with her mother . . . She looked up, and saw Lawrence staring down at her, his expression unreadable.

She paused, blushing, and tilted her head down slightly. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "was I staring?" His voice was intense, low, and his eyes were black. "It's just, you've grown up so."

"That's what time will do to you," she said quietly, and tried to laugh. It came out raspy. She heard the voice again in her head, pleading--*get up . . .leave . . .* and moved to get up.

"My parents must be worried. I better leave." She pushed herself up, not looking up, and almost slammed into him. He was blocking her exit.

"I don't think they're worried," he said, and his voice was low, and made her shiver. She felt a cold hand, huge, calloused, on her chin, and her head was lifted up towards his.

"There's no need to leave just yet."

"Please," Louise whispered. "I have to go . . " She found she couldn't look away from his eyes. She realized then that she never should have entered the house.

His hand left her chin to trail down her neck, her shoulders, down her arms to her fingertips, and then, very slightly, brushed against her left breast. She gasped. He was touching her. Her best friend's father . . . would he rape her? Would he hurt her? Every thought added to the tears that formed, making her eyes burn. She felt her nipples become erect, and she shuddered.

His whisper-touch turned into a grasp--he took the flash in his hand and squeezed as hard as he could, and she cried out softly. He leaned into her a little, and his eyes told her she wasn't going anywhere--then swiftly, he scooped her up in his arms and nearly sprinted to the bedroom.

The bedroom lights were off but she was familiar with the room--the large, inviting bed, always made. It no longer seemed so inviting to her as he tipped her onto it, tearing at her shirt until the fabric ripped and her green push-up bra was exposed. Louise couldn't find her voice to say a thing.

Lawrence hovered over her in the dark, and she could make out his panting face, his wide eyes.

"I've always wanted to do this. You're so young and beautiful. And you want it . . . you have to want it. Tell me you want it."

She was at a loss for what to do, but only for a moment--a swift smack across the face directed her on what to say. Gasping, crying now, she parted her lips and noddded quickly. "I--I want .. .it . . ." He growled and pushed her bra up over her breasts. They were fully exposed now, and the cool air only served to make her nipples more swollen, pebble-like; he took them both in his hands, pinched them hard and twisted them, and Louise gasped in evident pain--this was mixed with pleasure though, and she hated herself and her apparent confusion.

"I'll make you like it," he swore. "I'll make you . . ." And he leaned down and took one of her nipples in his mouth. They were so numb from the pain he'd inflicted that at first, she couldn't tell; the warmth began to spread though, and she could feel his tongue swirling around it as his other hand ccaressed the other gently, stopping now and again to run a single finger in the crease beneath her breast tantalizingly.

It felt good. She tried her hardest not to show this--she was still disgusted and terribly frieghtened. This was molestation, this was rape. But he was making it feel good, and her physical senses were trying desperately to overrule her psychological ones. Suddenly, without thinking, she parted her knees slightly. That was all he needed.

"Mhmm," he moaned, and slid a hand forcefully under her skirt--he immediately felt the heat, the wetness, and he laughed. "I knew it. I knew you wanted me, you little whore." Tears welled in her eyes, and he took her legs and spread them forcefully, pushing her skirt up to her waist and pulling down her white panties.

She was exposed now, and she whimpered as he unzipped his pants and wriggled out of them and of his boxers. She saw his erection and gasped . . . she'd never actually seen a penis before, and it struck her as far too big to fit inside her body. Lawrence took the tip of his erection and pressed it against the opening to Louise's heat--she was sure he could feel her shivering.

"You're a virgin, aren't you, Little Louise? I'm here to change that. I'll teach you to make Love. I'm going to teach you now . . ." He plunged into her, stopping briefly at her barrier--he was lubricated, but she'd never experienced such pain before and she couldn't even scream--she was being impaled.

Then he pushed through all the way, creating a stabbing pain in her abdomen, and stayed stationary inside her for a moment, shuddering. "You're so tight, oh, Jesus, you're so hot and tight." He stroked her face. "Doesn't that feel good, baby? Doesn't it make you feel whole? Don't you want to fuck?" When she didn't say anything, he began to pull out and rammed into her again--he took her ankles and placed them on each shoulder, and braced her arms over her head with one of his hands. Then he took his other hand and dragged it down her body, through her thick curls to her clitoris.

He gently rubbed it in a circular motion "Talk to me." She lay there for a moment, wondering what to do. The truth was, his hand on her clit felt so good--she felt so good. She felt dirty, and she liked the conrol he had over her. She liked the pain he was causing. He continued to rub her clit.

"Talk to me," he said again, more forcefully. "Tell me you're a whore."

"I'm a whore," she repeated, and to his surprise she arched her back into him slightly. "I'm such a dirty whore . . . please teach me a lesson. Punish me. Make love to me."

He groaned, and began the rythm of his hips, in and out, grimacing.

"Please, please . . . " she gasped, pushing her hips into him. "Fuck me. Treat me like the little slut I am. I'm so hot for you, so hot and wet . . . fuck me raw. Come inside me."

He began pushing into her harder--the pain was excruciating, so good--ripping into her, massaging her clit furiously, squeezing her knees together with an ankle on eacch shoulder. She could feel it building up now; he was going to orgasm inside her.

"Please, please daddy," she cried, "Come inside me! Oh, God, yes . . ." When he came, she felt it hitting the deepest parts of her, and the sensation causes her walls to shake and contract violently. She screamed, and he pulled out quickly.

His eyes had become frantic looking, and his breathing was heavier now than during the sex. He pushed her legs off him. He must've known she wouldn't tell anyone, because he didn't tellher not to--he simply puled his pants back on and, averting her eyes, said "Find one of Katie's shirts to wear. Use the back door." He scrambled into the master bath and slammed the door, leaving her gasping for breath, naked on his bed, covered in sweat.

Her mind was reeling. She burst into tears, wondering if she'd actually done this. She was in too much pain to move, and too much pain not to move. Sobbing, she ran out of the room.

--

To be continued . . .

This is the first in a series about Lawrence's and Louise's affair . . . maybe even someone else? This will contain a little bit of everything, but for its general purpose I'm moving into the teen section.

Next chapter--Lawrence deals with a guilty conscience while Louise tries in vain to control her newfound lust. A kinky time will be had!