𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ➀

13 DOGMA

I honestly don't know how I was even able to drive the two of us back to the apartment. The fact that I somehow managed not to commit vehicular manslaughter is beyond me. Monica had been jerking me off the entire drive back home, she even tried to sit on my lap a few times. I don't know what the fuck had gotten into her but she was acting about as sex-crazed as a nymphomaniac.

Maybe she needs to come to group with me...

Currently, at this very moment, I'm trying to get Monica upstairs as she continuously tries to take my clothes off. "Monica..." I grab ahold of her hands for the millionth time. "Jesus, Monica, wait until we get into the fucking apartment." I mean, she is incessant on fucking and that fact is abundantly clear.

"What? You don't want to fuck me here on the staircase?" She starts slowly pulling up the hem of her dress after she stumbles a bit up the last step. "Come on, Sean."

I hold back the urge to roll my eyes at her because the answer to that question is obvious. Yes, I'd love to but instead I say,"As much as I would absolutely love to fuck you on a set of stairs, I'm not too keen on Miss Boucher walking out of her apartment and having a heart attack." The elderly woman had already had congestive heart failure once as well as a stroke.

"But Sean, I want to fuuuuck..." She's basically moaning to herself now.

What the fuck has gotten into her?

I don't respond to that as I manage to get her down the hallway. She's pawing and clawing all over me, which would usually drive me crazy in more way than one. I open the door to my apartment with Monica moaning more to herself behind me. That's when it clicks like a fuck-ton of bricks that this isn't just strange behavior, this isn't something Monica would do. No, she's not acting like Monica at all.

She's not just drunk, she's fucking high. He fucking drugged her.

I pull her into the apartment and get her to calm down. "Monica, stop." She doesn't, she's trying to unbuckle my pants, again. "Stop." I say it forcefully enough for her dilated, wobbly eyes to look into mine. "Did you take anything?" I ask her as calmly as I can.

"Whhhaattt do you mean?" Her voice sounds off now that I'm really listening to it.

"What I mean, Monica, is did you fucking take any fucking drugs?" I grit out irritation.

She snorts before saying, "no, but I'm feeling really, really warm..." she taps her mouth "and thirsty." She begins giggling to herself but manages to finally get out, "thirsty for that dick!"

Yup, he fucking drugged her.

Under normal circumstances her saying that would be almost comical but right now, not so fucking much. My jaw ticks as I try to contain the utter fury building inside me. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of my nose as the thoughts swirl around in my head.

He wasn't just tying to dance with her. No, that cunt was trying to get into her pants and fucking rape her. I have never been so fucking happy in my entire life to have publically mauled a man. If I ever see him again I'll be doing a lot worse. He'll be lucky to come out of it alive.

Anyone who would try to force someone to have sex with them is a lowly piece of shit. Anyone who would take someone against their will is the scum of the planet. If you don't know how to properly get yourself laid then you need to touch your own naughty bits, not take someone else's. If I had one fucking principle that was it. Although, I must say, anyone who would deny me access to their nether regions is clearly out of their mind. I can work fucking miracles. Literally.