“Till they knew they liked it. You can’t fake it. I know when a girl’s faking.”
“What did you do with my car?”
“I’m sorry. It had to go.”
She clenched her jaw. All her beautiful luggage was gone, and the gift she had bought for Cameron was gone with it.
“You’re pissed off now, huh?” he said. “You can hit me, if you want. Go on. Hit me. Hit me!” He grabbed her arm, and she put her hands up expecting him to hit her but nothing happened.
“You have to let me go,” she said. “I know you’re not a bad person, I can tell by the way you kiss me.”
“Don’t fucking patronize me!” He shoved her away and got up. He looked down at the floor a moment. He scratched his ear. “What do you like to eat? I’ll get you anything you want. I’m not a completely mean bastard, despite what you might be thinking right now. What do want?”
She was too distraught to think or answer. He went into the kitchen, and left her alone. She was busting to pee. She looked at the bowl he had put there for her, then bowed her head to her knees in misery. She could hear him clunking around in the kitchen. She glanced at the bowl again. She thought maybe she should quickly go before he came back, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
She had her head on her knees, rocking herself, when he came back. He put a plate of canned stew and buttered toast in front of her. “You don’t tell me what you want—you get that.”
He sat on the couch to eat his dinner. She watched him a moment. “Can I use your bathroom?” she asked, pleadingly. He pointed to the bowl. “Don’t be a cruel fuck!”
He kept eating, chewing slowly. “I love your Australian accent. Say it again.”
She clenched her jaw and looked away.
“I’m coming over there to fuck your mouth after I finish this, so you better use that thing quick. I promise I won’t look.”
She started rocking herself again. She was in hell. He stuffed some toast into his mouth, then put his plate down. He went over to her and kissed her face, touching her wet cheeks gently. He tried to kiss her wounded mouth, but she strained away. He fondled her breasts a little and quietly studied her. “I’ve had lots of women,” he said, “but I’ve only brought a few out here—the best ones.”
She was really desperate to pee now and not at all sure how much longer she could hold on. He was caressing her tummy and breasts, up and down, irritatingly slow.
“Don’t touch me!” She pushed his hand away. He corked her thigh with his fist, and she clutched her leg painfully. He turned her toward him, and opened her legs. He half kneeled and half lay on the mattress and eased his fingers into her. She winced at the slightly painful sensation. Her whole interior was wounded and the urge to go was getting painful.
“I have to pee,” she complained.
“Don’t worry, if it happens, it happens. Spread your legs for me.” He put his mouth to her pussy. His tongue slipped in between her lips, touching her in ways that cramped her stomach and made her dig her fingernails into the mattress. Her legs quivered slightly. She groaned, wanting to push his mouth away. He sucked on her clit and slowly sawed his fingers in and out of her. Her pussy was gripping his fingers in an involuntary way. She had to pee. She put her palms on his forehead to try shove him away.
“Let it go, baby,” he said huskily.
She kept pushing him. “Get off!”
He licked her clit again, just once, then pulled his head away. She started to stand up, she had to go whether he was there or not, but he grabbed her arm.
“Just a second,” he said. He lay her back down and got on top. “You can have some of this first,” he said, probing the tip of his penis around her vagina, working it up and down the slit. He slowly pushed it inside her, with a burning sensation. He pumped her gently at first, then moved up on his knees and elbows, and started thrusting into her with short, very fast strokes, like a piston. She held her breath, becoming tense. His face was right next to hers, but he didn’t look at her.
Then he made her turn over onto all fours, so that he could enter her from behind. She held her breath again, flushing painfully. He grinded and bumped against her rapidly, giving her an intense, uncomfortable feeling.
“You’re hurting me!” she pleaded, but he pushed on the back of her head to keep her down. It felt like he was bruising her bladder. She placed a hand between her legs and squeezed herself. It helped. She kept her hand there until he pulled out.
He let her go over to the bowl, and she squatted down. He was watching, but she didn’t care any more. She turned her attention to her full bladder, which she found was suddenly and painfully locked up. She waited patiently, but every time she tried she could feel the constriction, preventing the pee from coming out. “Come on, baby,” she heard him say.
“I can’t!” She suddenly panicked, thinking he had broken her. “I can’t fucking go!”
“What? Just relax.”
“Nothing’s happening! I can’t go!” She was becoming hysterical. He took the chain off her, and took her into the bathroom. He parked her on the toilet seat and crouched in front of her. She pressed her face into her hands. “I can’t go,” she said, brokenly.
“You just need to calm down,” he said.
She was looking at him petrified. “I can’t go,” she said. “Can you get out!”
“Just relax.” He was kneeling between her legs, his hands on her thighs, massaging them. His fingers made their way from her inner thighs to her slit, brushing the hair with his knuckles. His hand turned over to touch her pussy. She noticed his fingers were trembling. He took a shuddering breath. “I want to see it. Please. I’ve always enjoyed watching a woman piss. It’s so intimate. Even more intimate than fucking, actually. It turns me on.”
She ignored him and concentrated on zoning out. She felt her back start to relax.
“Let it go, baby,” he whispered. One finger brushed her clit, teasing it gently.
A little bit came out. His fingers slid over her pussy, rubbing the wet, swollen flesh. He stared intently at her. He tickled her clit again and she felt the muscles start to relax. Instead of tightening against them, she pushed with them, opening them up. The little escaping drips became a stronger dribble.
“That’s so sexy, baby, so sexy,” he crooned, rubbing her clit again. She could feel her hot pee dribbling over his hand. She closed her eyes staying relaxed, while her steady stream of pee died down. She felt relief. Everything was burning and tight, but she felt okay.
She opened her eyes, and looked at him. He was staring at her intently. She burst into tears. She really had thought she was broken. She thought maybe something had collapsed and she was blocked, or that something inside was torn and leaking. She had all sorts of insanely bad thoughts.
“Aww. Come here,” he said. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He leaned forward, and held her behind the neck, kissing her. He took some toilet tissue and dabbed between her thighs. She was so destroyed, she didn’t make a single effort against him when he took her back to the lounge. He chained her up again. She lay motionless on the mattress. He lay next to her, pressing and patting her down there. “Showing me your personal parts while doing something so incredibly personal is hot, baby, you know that? You’re so hot.”
“Oh!… don’t,” she said, trying to stop him from getting on top of her.
“Gently this time, gently,” he promised.
“No more,” she moaned agonizedly, twisting herself in her distress, “let me go, please; don’t… don’t… ” and her voice failed her. He was already inside her. She looked vacantly at the dark ceiling while he pushed and grunted, and small tears began to trickle out of her eyes. He murmured something as he nuzzled her, and she felt him suck her skin into his mouth as he marked her over and over.