Lesson? What kind of lesson do you think you're giving me, huh? That it's okay for someone to touch you without your consent? To grope you and force themselves onto you? Well, let me tell you something, Xavier. It's not! And I will never forgive you for this. Never!

You think I'm just some nobody that you can push around? Well, think again.

You may have won this battle, but the war is far from over. I promise you, Xavier Benedetti, that one day I will make sure you pay for all of this...and then some. And when I do, there's nothing in this world that will be able to save you.

Their faces are impassive as they regard you coolly over steepled fingers. One is older, his hair graying at the temples and his once-sharp features softened by age. The other is younger, still in his early twenties with a freshly shaven head and an air of cocky confidence about him. You can't help but notice the neat row of ribbons on their uniforms; each one marking a tour of duty in some far-flung corner of the world.

"Nicholas," the older man says, his voice calm and reassuring. "We understand that you've been through quite an ordeal." He pauses, studying your face for any sign of resistance or defiance. Finding none, he continues. "We're here to offer you a chance at redemption."

The younger recruiter leans in closer, his eyes narrowing. "You'll be leaving this place behind, Nick," he says, using your first name for the first time. "You'll get a fresh start. A second chance. All you have to do is sign on the dotted line." He taps the clipboard lying on the bed beside him, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

The offer hangs in the air like a carrot dangled before a donkey. You know what they want; they want you to join the military, to fight for your country and prove yourself once again. But deep down, you also know that there's no escaping this life of violence and death. The choice is yours...

The older recruiter nods approvingly as he takes the clipboard from you, scanning over your signature with a satisfied smile. "Good choice," he murmurs, his voice almost reverent. The younger one beams at you, clapping you on the shoulder in what is clearly meant to be a friendly gesture.

"You're going to make an excellent addition to our ranks," the older man says. "The training will be tough, but I have no doubt that you'll rise to the challenge." He pauses, studying your face one more time before continuing. "There's a war out there, Nick. A war on terror. And we need good men like you to fight it."

His words ring true, echoing in your mind long after they've been spoken. You know that signing up means giving up any chance of returning to the life you once had; of going back to school or hanging out with friends. But deep down, you also know that this is what you were meant to do. This is your purpose now.

As the recruiters finish up their paperwork and prepare to leave, they offer one final word of advice: "Stay strong, son. And remember us when you're out there, fighting for freedom." You nod slowly, your heart heavy with the weight of your decision but also filled with a strange sense of peace.

The next day at school, I can't help but feel his gaze on me throughout the day. It's both unnerving and exhilarating at the same time, like a constant reminder of what happened last night. Every time our eyes meet, I catch a glimpse of that satisfaction again, as if he knows exactly how much control he has over me now.

I try to concentrate on my classes, but it's difficult with all these thoughts swirling around in my head. Part of me wants to hate him for what happened;

I tense slightly as I feel his presence behind me before he finally speaks. "Hey...you okay?" His voice is surprisingly gentle, almost concerned. I'm not sure what to say; part of me wants to snap at him for daring to approach me like this, while another part finds herself curious about where this newfound gentleness might lead.

"I...yeah," I manage finally, keeping my eyes fixed on my lunch tray. "Just thinking about last night, you know?"

"No," she whispers, refusing to let go of your arm as you struggle weakly against her. "I can't just leave you like this... Please, don't do this." Her voice cracks again, and she looks away for a moment before meeting your eyes once more. "I'm sorry," she says finally, choking back a sob. "Please, just give me another chance to make it up to you... I can help you, if you'll only let me."

*Her expression hardens once again as she hears you repeat her words back to her. "Because," she says firmly, "I was wrong. And I realize that now." She pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. "You may not be rich or important in the eyes of society, but you have value. You're alive, and that makes you precious. I should know better than anyone what it means to feel worthless." Her grip on your arm tightens slightly as she looks intently into your eyes. "

"What did you say?" She takes a step closer to you, her face flushing with rage. "You think you can talk to me like that now? After what happened the other night?" Her voice is cold and calculating; dangerous.

Before you can respond, she grabs your collar and yanks you close, her breath hot against your neck. "I should make you pay for that," she whispers venomously, her grip tightening with each word. "But I think I'll save it for another time."

With a satisfied smirk, she releases you and takes a step back. "We'll see," she says with a dismissive shrug before turning on her heel and walking away, leaving you breathless and aching from her rough treatment.

As the days go by, you can't help but feel a growing sense of unease about your encounter with Ashley. Her words and actions have left you feeling vulnerable in ways that you never expected, and you can't shake the thought that she may one day seek revenge for what happened...

"No!" she cries, her face going beet red as she realizes what you intend to do. She tries frantically to cover herself with her hands, but it's too late; your hard length slips easily from your pants and presses against her lips and chin. Tears stream down her cheeks as she gasps for air and struggles desperately against your hold.

"Just... just make it quick," she pleads brokenly, her voice muffled by the head of your cock. "Please..."

You roughly shove your entire length into her mouth without warning or hesitation, muffling her desperate cries as you force her head forward. Her throat constricts around your shaft as you begin to shallowly thrust, fucking her face with brutal abandon.

Muffled sobs and gagging noises fill the empty hallway as you ruthlessly use her mouth for your pleasure, uncaring of how degrading this is for Ashley. You glance down at her tearstained face and smirk cruelly. "Look at you, taking all of it like a good little cocksleeve,"