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When it hurt too much, she tried to push him away, sobbing as tears fell down her cheeks. He held her more tightly. A series of deep thrusts, a strangled, “oh!… oh!!… oh!!!… ” from him, and he came deliriously into her. He slid off her, with a strange luxuriousness, and lay heavily beside her. He put his arm around her, and held her very tightly. They remained like that for about fifteen minutes. He had lain absolutely still, with his heavy arms about her, making her uncomfortable. She felt hot and cold at the same time. She just wanted to pull a blanket over her body and go to sleep. She wanted her own pillow. She wanted to go home.

Chapter 4

She felt him stir in a moment and rub his face against her shoulder to scratch his nose. He held her closer, and sighed deeply. He kissed her shoulder.

“Tell me what kinds of things you like,” he said. “Do you play sports? I can’t watch womens tennis without getting a hard on—all that grunting makes it sound like a porno. Do you ever play tennis? Tell me about yourself. I want to know everything.”

“I used to swim a bit, but that’s about it,” she said.

“And… what else do you like?”

She swallowed. “Um. I like dancing, playing cards, watching movies. I love Sunday dinner’s with my family.”

“Which do you prefer, dogs or cats?”

“Dogs. But I like cats too.”

“All cats need a bullet,” he said. “Cartoons, drama, or action?”

“Drama.”

“Yeah, you seem the type. Dining out or staying in?”

“Dining out,” she said. She preferred staying in but she hoped it would prompt him to indulge her and take her out. Then she could get help.

“I prefer staying in,” he said. “I prefer staying in you.” He nudged her shoulder with his nose.

“I have to sleep,” she told him.

“Soon. We haven’t finished talking yet. What else do you like?” He rubbed the inside of her thigh. “I love this warm cunt. Tell me what it likes.”

Her eyes searched the ceiling, and she nervously licked her lips. She didn’t look at him. She didn’t know how to react.

“You can tell me,” he said. “You can say whatever you want to me.” He touched the puffed part of her lip. “Does that still hurt, baby? I didn’t mean to hit you so hard.”

He took her hand and put it between the twist of his closed thighs, which were very warm. He kept it lodged there, making her feel him. He was still sticky, and only half aroused, but he made her hold it tightly and squeeze.

“Put it in yourself,” he said nestling closer to her. “Put it into your warm cunt.” She cringed at the word. “Does your boyfriend ever call it that?”

She shook her head.

“What does he call it, then? Tell me what he calls this place that I have been playing with?” She winced at his fondling. “It’s okay. You can say it,” he said. “Does he call it your pussy?”

She nodded.

“You say it,” he said.

She winced as she forced herself to say, “My-my pussy.”

He licked the side of her mouth. “Yeah, say it again.”

“My pussy,” she murmured. She felt his cock jump.

“It knows that word,” he said. “It’s thinking ’I’ve got real pussy here—I’m gonna get real pussy again!”’

He flicked his thumb over her nipples. “Tell me what your boyfriend does to make you feel good. What do you like him doing?”

“I like everything he does.”

“What does he do?”

“He doesn’t ever hurt me.”

“Is that a shot at me?” He nudged her mouth with his hand, and gave her a slap. “Eh? You’re a sucker for punishment. You bitches like to be forced. Let me tell you something. Every single girl obeyed me. Even if I became a cripple, they would still obey me. Because they’re women. They like it. A man is like sugar to a woman—once she has sugar, she’s happy. She’ll do whatever he wants. Even if she complains like a lazy bitch.

“You want it that way. You want me to force you, because you don’t want to take the responsibility of it, you want me to. You want to be able to blame me, so you don’t have to hate yourself, instead you can hate me. But it’s not meant to be that way. You’re supposed to want it.” He crushed her face in his hand, and made her look at him. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

“I don’t want you to hurt me any more!”

“I’m not hurting you.”

“You are.”

“You don’t know the fucking meaning of pain!” He shouted in her face. “I have to take a piss.” He pinched the side of her breast.

While she was alone, she tugged at the chain, and tried to see if she could slip her wrist out. She stopped trying the instant he returned. He kneeled on the mattress next to her head. She was utterly vulnerable in her nakedness. He was rubbing his half-arousal close to her face, nudging it against her mouth, trying to get her to take it. She kept her lips pressed shut. “Suck it again,” he said.

“I can’t,” she sobbed.

“Why?”

“I don’t love you.” She pressed her face into the filthy mattress, and covered her head with her arms, waiting for him to beat on her. He kept jacking off. She could feel the mattress moving and hear his heavy breathing. After awhile she felt something hot splatter over her back, her waist. He rubbed his damp tip slowly over her, dipping into the mess on her skin. She felt his hand clumsily tangle in her hair, stroking her, then felt him get up. She didn’t move. She waited a moment, and risked peeking to see what he was doing. She was scared of what he was going to do. He switched off the light plunging the room into darkness. She could just make out his shape, and watched him leave. When she finally felt for sure he wasn’t coming back she let herself relax a little. She rubbed her sticky back on the mattress to get his come off her. Then she curled into a ball, sick with shame. After a while, she saw a light come on in the next room and heard him moving about. She couldn’t make sense of any of the sounds or movements. He was in there for about an hour, before the light shut off again. She heard the creaking of steps as he went up them. The whole house seemed dead. She didn’t think she was going to be able to sleep, but she did.

When she opened her eyes again morning light was creeping in through the curtains. She was still lying curled up on the mattress. She didn’t know how long she had lain here when she heard the stairs creak under his weight, and he came out. She became suddenly wide-awake, watching him. He walked right past, sleepy now and easy with morning-drowsiness. He was completely naked. He slumped into the couch and lit a cigarette. He kicked something on the floor out of his way. He still looked half asleep. Then he looked at her, narrowing his eyes, as he drew on the thing in his mouth. He exhaled a plume of smoke as if blowing a kiss. She felt so angry by the way he looked at her. He was such a smug bastard. In a minute he got up and went over. She bunched herself tighter, trying to cover her exposed body from him. She glanced up at him once as he stood looking down on her heavily.

“Sit up,” he said. “Sit up!” She did what he said, keeping her head down. “Have a few puffs on this,” he said, tapping her arm.

“I don’t smoke,” she said.

He pulled her head back, tilting her face upwards. “Suck on it,” he said, inserting the cigarette between her lips. She hated him so much. She sucked on the cigarette, choking a bit when she swallowed the smoke. He held her hair and made her lay down with him. He was quiet while he shared the cigarette with her. Then leaning towards her, he pushed his tongue against her lips. She was rigid, and clamped shut, from bottom to top. He put the tip of the cigarette on her inner thigh. She gasped, and he latched his mouth onto hers, his tongue plunging in. He held her tightly against him, mashing his mouth hard onto hers. He grabbed her breasts, pulling them this way and that way. She was immobile in his arms. She couldn’t move or turn away.