Am I here because I want to die? Or am I here because I want to live?
I confess, I'm here now, watching him, watching me, as he rubs my feet, because he gave off a vibe. I'm a sick girl. I know what kind of man he is, even as he's rubbing my feet. We're listening to some fucked up "music" of his, the aroma of marijuana freshly burnt on the air. He's a predator. They all are, it's just to what degree. He's looking into my eyes, seeing if I'm enjoying this. He's wearing nothing but a pair of plaid boxer shorts, his long black hair, his very Roman features. This wicked Adonis, this fuck machine. He grinds his thumb into the arch of my foot, with just enough pressure to hold my attention, he has no intention of letting go of my legs. I let my eyes wander over his face, to his neck and chest..his arms, to his hands. I look further, I see his penis, jutting stiffly out of his shorts. I almost laugh, but disguise it as a cough and pretend that I didn't notice, but I can feel the heat rising in my face and know that my cheeks are flushed. I smile politely and clear my throat again. He gives off that.. Indescribable, red flag feeling. He has from the start. He reeks of it. And right now, I'm fairly certain, with my cheeks flushed crimson, that he smells fresh blood.
"Do you like what you see?" He growls, holding my foot, firmly against his cock.
"Do you like this?" He rubs his cock on my foot. I close my eyes and swallow, wondering which direction I should take this. I'm terrified of him, I could go completely green and maybe get out, if he's not too much of a monster, I also consider the possibility that it may make him "less friendly". I decide to remain passive with slight interest. I smile, demurely, my cheeks obliging with fresh color.
"Let's go to my room, it's more comfortable, I have a California king bed."
He pauses, rubbing my foot once more.
"You should stay over, I'll make you pancakes in the morning and we'll lounge in the hot tub in the afternoon. Hmm?"
I feel him looking at me, his dark brown eyes intent on my face. His suggestion about pancakes in the morning seems both absurd and friendly, almost boyish, if his voice didn't have a deep timbre to it. He moves gently from under my legs and stands, holding his hands out for me. I swing my feet off the couch and sit up, looking up at him, my heart roaring in my ears.
"Come with me Sarah, I want to fuck you."
His hard-on throbs twice, his voice taking on a throaty growl. I feel the wetness that had been on the verge of descent, loose a bit, I close my eyes for a second and revel in the feel of the moisture gathering at the opening, welcoming him. I’m a woman, this is what I was made for. I am wanted in such a way, merely for the inversion of my genitals. I am a whore.
I take a deep breath and open my eyes to see he's in the same position, patiently waiting. I take his hands and he hauls me to my feet, faster than I expect, I collide into his arms, he looks down at me and smiles. It’s not the kind of smile that shows any friendliness, it’s a wolf’s grin, all the better to eat me with. I can feel the strength in his lithe body, he isn’t exceptionally bulky, he has that lean strength, the useful muscles, the long ones in the legs, in the back and in the arms, built for endurance, not necessarily show. I could feel every inch of that strength now, from how firmly he held me to him, how easily. The look in his eyes say: what the fuck are you going to do about it. He doesn’t care how I feel about it, he’s going to do it. I could either try and enjoy it or not. I am his whore now.
“It’s very late and I’m pretty tired.” I bite my lower lip and pull back from him a bit.
“You’re sleeping over, we can crash when we’re done.” He pulls me back into him.
This wasn’t a query, it was a statement. My fear escalates another notch. I’m a breath away from terrified. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone and I’m having second thoughts. He’s a monster, he’s a monster, I know what he’s capable of, do I? Do I realize the depths of it? Why am I here? It comes back to that original question, did I come here to die? Or did I come here to live? This cannot be broken down into subcategories and analyzed through use of pros and cons. This is a yes or no question. I either want to live or I want to die. I know the answer to that question. I do not know what to do in the current situation, to achieve my desired outcome.
“May I use your bathroom?”
“Of course, it’s in the Master bedroom.” I’ll show you.
Without another word, he has a vice-like grip on my hand and is all but dragging me in his wake. He turns on the light in the bedroom, leads me through to the bathroom and ushers me inside, flipping on the light and closing the door, but not latching it. I look around, there’s a closed door on the other side of the room, next to the toilet. I walk toward the toilet, flush it and then return to the sink and turn the tap on and make for the opposite door I came in, I take two steps through it and he’s there at the other end of the room.
“You left the tap on.”
I turn and make for the bathroom in a dash, but he’s on me sooner than I can get through the door. His arms around my waist, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes are huge, pupils fully dilated, I’m a feral cat, in the clutches of a Staffordshire terrier. Not completely harmless, but way out of my element. He’s trying to get me down, but I’m not going, I know as soon as I do, I’m done. I’m pulling at his hands, leaving my feet planted, not wanting to give him an inch. He just squeezes me tighter and I feel the air force out of my lungs, I pull my arm forward as far as I can and thrust backward full force and knock him in the chest, he loosens his grip, just enough. I scramble for the door on the opposite side of the room, shoving it open. As soon as I’m through his body hits me from behind and I jerk forward, my hips slamming into the side of the bed, bending me in half, my toes dig into the carpet, he’s on me, pinning me down, breathing heavily in my ear.
“You fucking cunt.” He spits. “You come here at 1 o’clock in the morning, what the fuck did you think was going to happen? You fucking tease.” He grabs both of my wrists with his right hand, I feel my bones grind together, I hold my breath. His left hand goes down my leggings, bypassing the waistband, straight to the crotch, there’s a tear and I’m not wearing panties. “You wear these, special for me?” His fingers dig in through the tear and pinch my labia hard enough to make me cry out. He shudders a little and his breath is shaky when he continues. “I saw that, when I was rubbing your feet, whore.” He stops pinching and pushes his fingers inside of me, running them around my vaginal opening, down to my clitoris, which he flicks and tickles with his fingers, until my hips start to jerk involuntarily. “Not that you need any help getting wet.” He hisses. He continues rubbing my clit with two fingers, up and down, side to side, every few strokes, he pinches me and then uses his nail to flick. My hips start keeping rhythm with his fingers, I start to cry and beg him to stop. I don’t want to get off. “No, please stop.”
“What’s that? You want me to stop?”
He does stop, but he doesn’t move from his position of pinning me down. He pulls his hand away from between my legs, I hear him licking his fingers.
“You taste… so fucking good.” I feel him caress my bottom and then he spanks it, lightly.
“Tell you what, I’m going to eat your pussy. I’m going to get up, undress you and take my time, if you scream or fight me, I’m going to rip every single piercing you have on your body, out, with pliers, got it?”
I can’t respond, I sob into the blanket. He spanks my ass, hard.
“Got it?”
“Yes.” It’s the thinnest, tiniest voice, not my own, it’s a scared little girl at the back of a tool shed.
He starts to laugh. “What was that sweetheart?”
I take a deep breath. “I understand.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
He shifts his weight off of me and walks to the dresser near the foot of the bed, my eyes follow him, I can’t move, I don’t dare. The threat just keeps replaying in my head, I see his lips moving now, but I don’t hear what he’s saying, I just hear the roaring of my heart in my ears. I feel his eyes, devouring each inch of me from my terrified eyes to my toes, that are painfully digging into the carpet of this well-lit dungeon. He pulls out the top drawer, reaches in to remove a pair of eight inch dyke pliers, the heavy kind, with the cutter on the inside. I stop breathing. What the fuck am I missing?
“What are you saying? I c-can’t hear what you’re saying!!” My voice stutters, then cracks, I take a deep ragged breath and stand up.
“Please… don’t hurt me, I will do whatever you say, just don’t fucking hurt me, please. I can’t hear you!!” I’m forcing the words out.
He sets the pliers on the dresser and strides over to me, gently taking me by the shoulders, he shakes me twice, then slaps me across the face.
“You’re in shock.” He smiles. “Have you been a victim before?”
Another tear rolls down my cheek, he leans forward and licks it away.
“Let’s get you out of those clothes.”
I don’t fight him, I lift my arms as he takes my shirt off over my head. He tosses it on the floor and looks me over, takes a breast in each hand, weighing them, rubbing my nipples with his thumbs.
“I like your breasts.” he leans in and licks and nibbles the right, I gasp involuntarily, he pinches the left hard, to actuate the same response. I push the air out of my lungs and shakily take another breath. He hooks his thumbs in the waistband of my leggings, my nipple sucked deep into his mouth, I barely notice that I’m completely nude, he angles my back toward the bed and shoves me onto it, a popping noise escapes his lips, along with my nipple. It’s throbbing and covered in his spittle, I feel it trickle down my breast as I land on the bed with a bounce. He’s standing between my knees, looking down at me, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and pushes my knees up and apart and crawls up and between my legs. I close my eyes, I’m going to pretend he’s someone else. I’m going to try and enjoy it. I’m fucked either way. I feel his breath on my thighs, I think of Shaun, I think of our night in San Francisco, I think about how Sex ist ein Schlacht - Liebe ist Krieg… I think about how much I fought to be with him, how much I gave up, how much I loved him. How much I love him still, this man, between my legs right now, is Shaun, because I want him to be. My body feels warm. I feel him spread me open, stretched, exposed, he blows on my cunt, lightly, then leans in and his breath is changed from cool to warm, his tongue touches my clit, cool, then his lips, warm… he kisses my clit, sucks it lightly, then pulls it into his mouth with more suction and nibbles it with his front teeth, I shriek with pleasure. He begins to lap at me, like an animal, thirsty and drinking, he licks me, tasting, from my clit, down to my anus, slowing at each orifice to kiss and tongue and lick for full minutes, he starts working his way back up, lapping and sucking and nibbling, god he’s good. He’s so fucking good and I’m telling him how fucking good he is at this, my voice hoarse, tense with wanting, breaking with urgency.
He reaches my clit and begins his dance of lapping and sucking, building up the movements and then slowing them down to almost nothing. Unpredictable in pressure, but a steady rhythm, my hips jerking up and down in response to every movement. The tightening begins, my uterus is constricting, tightening to such a degree it feels like I have a charlie horse in my lower gut. As soon as it reaches an unbearable level of pain/pleasure, it releases in a rushed wave of complete bliss, I know that I’ve drenched his chin and neck, I hear him say “holy fuck.” and laugh a bit. My spell is broken, he’s up between my legs now, I feel his cock prodding at me.
“Open your eyes. I want to see you look at me when I fuck you.” I grabs me by the lower jaw and pulls my head straight. “I won’t count to three like daddy, I’ll beat the fuck out of you if you don’t open your eyes.” I oblige, there he is, his black hair falling into my face, his brown eyes staring into my green ones. He’s no longer my fair lover, but my dark one. I don’t take my eyes away from his, I don’t blink, I feel his cock push into me, unyielding and massive. He gasps in my face. “Fuck you’re tight and sweet.” His eyes settle at half mast, his face relaxing, he slowly fucks me deep, savoring it. I feel his cock touching my cervix and I try to open myself to him, will my innards to be flexible. He starts to fuck me faster, not as deep, going for speed, I keep watching his face. “Wrap your legs around me.” he grunts as he props himself up on one arm and grabs me under the knee. I oblige, locking my ankles around his waist. “Good.” he bends forward and bites my nipple, full teeth and pulls his head up, still holding it, my mouth is open and seconds later I cry out. He drops my nipple and slaps me across the face. “You like it rough, don’t you.” he fucks me hard again, I start to tense my vagina, trying to push him out of me or make him come, anything to make it stop. He stops and pulls out, pushes me to my left side and grabs my right leg, holding it up straight and re-enters, I can’t squeeze him as easily at this angle. He gets going again and the tears start to stream down my face, I stare at the dresser, the pliers and I swallow hard, my hands clenching onto the sheets. I try to shut out what’s happening, I try to will my cunt to go numb. He throws my leg down, flips me onto my stomach and grabs me by the hips, urging me onto my knees, he shoves his fingers inside of me and then smears my wetness onto my anus and shoves his finger inside, I gasp and whimper at the idea of having him in my ass. He knows it, he bends forward and bites my left cheek and pinches my inner thigh with his free hand, he pulls his finger out of my ass and presses his cock against the opening, I hold my breath. He rubs himself against me, presses, presses and then shoves his cock back in my cunt and fucks me harder than he had before, his fingers digging into the flesh on my hips. Giving me something to remember him by, other than the effort he’s putting in to ruin every sexual position for me. He’s relentless in rhythm and force, each thrust shaking me deep, hammering at my well-being, trying to invade me on every level possible. Each position he puts me in is passive, I merely have to hold myself up, he doesn’t expect me to do anything else, just hold position, he’s fucking me, he doesn’t want me to fuck him. He doesn’t want me to enjoy it. I hear him inhale sharply and he pulls out. I can feel myself shaking. He puts his hand on my ass, pats it rather gently and tells me to turn around. I gingerly lower myself onto the bed and turn to face him. He stares at me, smiling, then looks down at his cock. I look as well, it’s streaked with blood, I let out a sob, I’m sore, but my traitor’s cunt is pulsing with the beat of my heart.
“I want you on top.” he says matter-of-factly.
“I don’t think I can.” I sob. “I don’t think I can do it.” my tears are flowing freely now, I feel like he’s fucked the strength out of me, my muscles feel weak and shaky, my head is swimming. I bring my hands up to cover my face and I see a heavy tremor in them. I try and hide within my limbs, drawing my legs up in slow motion. He’s pulling at me now, jerking me forward, pulling me to him, he wrenches my arms away from my face and gets the upper half of my body on top of him, he hooks his right leg under my left, spreading my legs open at the same time, he’s maneuvering himself under me. Within thirty seconds, he has me in the position he wants me in and is entering me again. I’m a crumpled mass on top of him, he slaps me hard across the face and pulls me up where he wants me, bent forward, my face in his, I can smell myself on his face, on his breath, absolutely no chance of resuscitating the memory of… I cannot think beyond this, the brown eyed devil, I cannot look away, he has me locked in, his hands - vices on my arms, locked at the elbow, preventing me from collapsing, holding me forward, fucking me from underneath, punishing me, destroying me. Just when I thought I could bear no more, I feel it, the clutching of my vaginal canal, he feels it too, he keeps pace, my uterus complies contracting in little butterfly spasms, as I come, so does he. He closes his eyes as he does, I feel his warm seed spread through me and with his last few strokes, leak out again. I convulse and dry heave. He tosses me aside. “If you’re going to vomit, do it in the bathroom.” I scramble for the toilet and retch for all I’m worth, but nothing comes up, I’m leaking down my leg, I touch myself and examine my hand, come mixed with blood spots, I squeeze my pelvic muscles and I feel more ooze out of me. I don’t attempt to clean myself up, I just rest my head on the toilet bowl, close my eyes and concentrate on breathing. When I open them a minute later, he’s standing over me, his hand held out for me. I close my eyes again, but he grabs me by the hair and pulls, I yelp and he releases and holds out his hand again, offering the clear alternative. I take it and he hauls me off the floor and ushers me back to his bed, the lights are out now, he pushes me down onto it and lays down behind me, pulling blankets over us, he’s spooning me now, his arms wrapped around my waist, his breath on my neck. I’m shivering.
“Please, I just want to go home, I want to sleep.” I try not to sniffle, I try not to beg.
“Oh, you’re staying the night, I’m fixing you pancakes in the morning.” he grunts as he squeezes me tight and nuzzles the back of my neck.
I stare straight ahead, sick to my stomach. A tender and intimate invasion. I want to cry, but I want him to sleep more than I need to cry. Slowly, minutes tick by, I feel his arms slacken, I shift, I test, he grips me again, not as tightly.
After forty five minutes, he rolls over and begins to snore. I’ve watched the red LED clock on the night stand. I slowly ease forward, trying to displace my weight evenly, another five minutes and I’m at the edge of the bed. I lower myself onto the floor and slowly stand up, my eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room. I walk to the other side of the bed, each footstep coinciding with his heavy breathing, I crouch down and gather up my clothes and slowly and silently walk through the door into the living room, a cat that I didn’t notice before begins to twirl itself around my naked legs, I smack it with my pants, it skitters off. I gather my keys and wallet from the coffee table and am out the front door, standing on his porch, the porch light illuminating my nakedness, clothes and flip flops in hand. I hiccup and cry, as I bend to pull my pants on and slip into my flip flops, I’m down the stairs, pulling my shirt over my head, I’m rushing forward to my car.
Freedom.
I want to live.
