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(Her Secret Fantasy, continued by RandomShadfan...)
“Okay guys, change down a gear,” you tell them. “I don’t want my girlfriend to suffocate.”
The men don’t listen, fucking Rachel — if possible — even harder.
“Guys, cut it out! Let her breathe!” you shout at them, worried for Rachel.
You see her eyes roll into her head and act without thinking: you lunge at the gangbangers, grab your girlfriend under the arms and pull her away from them. Rachel coughs and chokes, bent over. She sinks into a chair and breathes heavily, spluttering a thank you.
“I told you to fucking stop!” you shout at the men, turning towards them. Even you’re surprised at the amount of anger in your voice. The guys you know recoil slightly, but the strangers don’t seem fazed.
“Dude, she literally asked for it,” one of them replies smugly.
“Consent isn’t a single Yes,” You breathe at him through gritted teeth. “It’s a willing, sober and continuous Yes.” He is taken slightly aback at the look you give him.
The men you know start to usher the men you don’t out of the door, with sayings like “It’s time to go,” and “Trust me, you don’t want to piss him off more.”
You turn back to a teary-eyed Rachel, who sobs slightly “I thought I’d enjoy it I don’t know what I was thinking.”