I did, feeling the flush of shame grow until my face was crimson. I felt him pull apart the cheeks of my ass, slipping his hands inside the panties, through the slit in the crotch. He held the cheeks in his hands, and he played for a moment at the anus. I bit my hp down in fear, but he slid his hand down, and reinserted his middle finger in my cunt. He pushed it in and out, and I felt my thighs quivering in unwanted pleasure.
I felt his tongue lick at my asshole as his finger went in and out. He slid his tongue down from my anus until he was licking at the slit on my cunt. Once he pushed the tongue into me, joining his finger in the hot, flowing wetness of my cunt.
"Now!" he announced, pulling his finger out. "I want you to fuck me now."
I stood up, and he motioned me over to the bed. I slid my hands into the panties, and began to pull them off.
"No!" he screamed. "Leave them on!"
I pulled my hand away and lay down on the bed. I lifted my thighs and parted them, exposing my upturned cunt to his face.
He kneeled on the bed between my thighs. He put his knife down next to me, and leaned forward, catching my knees in the crooks of his arms. He pushed my thighs back and open and said, "You put it in!"
I reached down between my legs and held his short, hot cock. I pushed it between the lips of my cunt, and he lunged forward, implanting the nub into my hole. Then he pushed my thighs even further back, hooking my calves over his shoulders. I was almost bent in two. "Now-watch!" he said.
I turned my eyes down, and saw the short stub of his cock pushing in between the lips of my cunt I watched the lips of the cunt sliding up and down the sides of his organ, leaving a wet film of slime as he pushed himself in and out. I grunted in discomfort and a growing excitement as I watched his balls smack into my ass.
He thrust himself hard against my cunt driving his cock violently in and out. With each forward drive, the swell of his belly rubbed across my clitoris, sending waves of pleasure into my cunt. I tried to ignore the excitement that was growing within me, attempting to imagine it was not real. But with each thrust I felt my pleasure mounting and growing like something that would soon reach a saturation point and rupture into an orgasm.
"Are you watching?" he asked. He leaned his full weight down on me, and my face was inches from my cunt. I could smell the lubricated excitement of my pussy, as the wet bps clutched at his raping cock.
I found myself clenching as the canal of my cunt closed around the thickness of his cock, trying to trap it inside of me to burn away the feelings of excitement that I didn't want It was no longer for him that I wanted it to be over. Now it was for me. I didn't want to know why I was enjoying it! I was afraid of what it might reveal!
He grunted and thrust forward. I felt his cock throbbing against the walls of my cunt. I felt a tremor building in his thighs, running up, and spreading across to his thrusting cock. I knew what it meant, and I pushed my cunt up against him, ready to drink his angry sperm.
But at the last moment he pulled his cock from my cunt and rested it against my belly. He began to come, and thick spurts of his sperm splashed from the tip of his cock and plopped hotly against my flesh.
The very instant his sperm touched my skin, I began to come. My orgasm ripped from my cunt and erupted like hot lava spewing from a volcano.
His come continued to spill out against me, clotting in my hair and splashing up my body, landing on my stomach and breasts. Each drop burned into my flesh, leaving scars no soap could ever wash away. My eyes bulged open, and I watched the sperm spilling all over me. I found myself opening my mouth, and stretching forward my tongue, attempting to capture a drop of the sacred fluid. My tongue stretched from side to side in a crazy, sexual communion, as the splashing circles of sperm danced on my nakedness.
My orgasm rang to a shuddering close, and I slumped over to the side. I felt empty and hollow. The spots of sperm were running down my body like cold rivers. I shuddered and realized that I was no longer afraid. Not of him, anyhow.
He got up and I heard him put on his coat. "What's your name?" he asked.
"Elaine," I said. The name popped into my head. It was as good as the name I had used yesterday, and as good as my own name.
"Elaine what?"
"Marshall," I lied.
"All right, Elaine Marshall," he said. "I'm going to go now. I don't want you to follow me or call the police. If you do, I'll kill you."
I stared at the rumpled sheets of the bed. "Don't worry," I said. "I won't do anything."
He laughed. "No. I don't think you will."
I stared at the bed. His sperm ran down my belly.
"You're married, Elaine, ain't you?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Well, Elaine Marshall," he said, "if you tell the police about this, they'll find out about you. About what you did. I don't think you want your husband to find out, do you?"
"No," I said. "I don't want my husband to know."
I heard him walk to the door and open it. "You enjoyed it, didn't you?" he asked. His voice almost didn't believe what he was saying.
I didn't answer, and he left, closing the door behind him.
I stared at the bed. He'd forgotten his knife. I laughed bitterly. He really didn't need it.
Chapter 13
It was all starting to come together for me. The fog was lifting, and small bits and pieces of the puzzle were beginning to take shape and form themselves into a picture. For a long time they had just danced around in my head-my birthday, Mark and the children, my sexual preoccupation during the last few weeks, even that… man who had attacked me last night. For the first time, everything seemed to be moving together, as though each piece meant something intrinsically more than just itself; as though each piece was an important part of an ever larger truth I had to learn about myself, and about what was really happening to me. The dust was settling.
Last night's attack had taught me both something about myself and, more importantly, about life in general. Just what that knowledge was yet, I still could not read fully. But it would all solidify soon, I knew, and I would at last understand. This much I had discerned: what was happening to me this weekend, and even before, in the last few weeks leading up to my birthday-none of it was accidental. It was all very purposefully controlled by my unconscious mind, for whatever reason-I do not know. But not a bit of it was accidental-the sex, the anxiety, the restlessness and dissatisfaction, yes, and even the attack-all of it has meaning. And I could feel that moment of truth drawing near until it would soon be at hand.
In the meantime, all I had to do was wait-wait for the kaleidoscope to cease turning enough for me to see the design. Events were coming to me. All I had to do was accept them and follow my instincts. My unconscious mind would lead me to the answer.
Perhaps this is why I found myself out early Sunday morning. It was not yet nine, and the streets of Manhattan were deserted. It was like a ghost town or a wilderness.
I couldn't sleep after last night. I tossed and turned on the bed. Any thought I might have had to return to the street and continue my role as a prostitute had been forcibly driven from my mind.
Yet, strangely, it was not the rape that disturbed me. That I could learn to accept; even reconcile it away logically. An occupational hazard for a whore.
No, what disturbed me more, was my reaction to the attack-my pleasure. I had enjoyed it, and he had known it. He had seen something in me that even I didn't know. What was it? Why was it there? What did it mean?
His voice haunted me. Not his cruel, sick laughter or the humiliation he had heaped on me. "You like it, don't you," he had said. Then he stopped himself and reconsidered. "No," he had realized. "You need it!"
The words sunk into my flesh and touched something raw and painful underneath; something bidden in my unconscious mind. The wheels began to turn-slowly, ponderously, but turn nevertheless. Why did I need it?