“Huh?”
“You think everyone is like you. You think I even have a thought about what I’m doing other than to enjoy it or plan it?”
“Don’t you?”
“No. I don’t. I just do. What I do.”
“I guess I can’t understand that.”
“Obviously. Since you keep trying to appeal to some aspect of me that doesn’t exist.”
“But that’s so depressing.”
“For you.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
He took her breasts in his hands and toyed with the nipples. “I like that you can pretend I’m not doing this while we have our intellectual conversation.”
“I don’t know about intellectual. It was about a TV show.”
“Still.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Oh, nothing. There’s nothing you can say. I’m just enjoying your efforts.”
“You just can’t be this bad. Nobody is this bad. This calmly bad.”
He took his hands off her breasts and placed them around her throat, lightly. And he leaned down and kissed her mouth. Her eyes widened, but she kept her mouth relaxed. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of a fight.
He leaned back and gazed at her. “You don’t know anything about bad,” was all he said.
He got off of her at this point and lay next to her, on the outside of the bed. She was on the inside. But her hands were free, which was unusual. As they lay there, her right arm crept toward the wall next to her. There was a small space between the wall and the bed, an indentation in the side of the mattress. You couldn’t see it unless you knew it was there. If she started to shake, she would have to stop, so she turned her head toward him and looked at him. He looked back into her eyes.
He smiled. “What are you looking for?”
“Huh?” She was startled.
“In my eyes.”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Anything.” As she had thought, it was still there. Waiting for her to need it, to take it.
He rolled back over on top of her, leaning on his elbows, with his face just inches from hers. It was ideal. He couldn’t see her hand, her fingers closing on the object. She knew she had to do it fast and in one motion. And that she would lose her chance if she didn’t do it now. She tried not to breathe faster, but she felt her heart rate climb. Before he could detect it, she swung her hand up, sliding the safety off, and cocked the hammer. It was just a question of fractions of a second. But before her hand reached his head, his left hand had grabbed the gun and pushed it down and away from him, while his right hand went to her throat, choking her. His hand pressing on her arteries, she lost consciousness for a few seconds. It was all he needed to take the gun away, drop out the magazine, and throw both pieces across the room.
When she came to, he was sitting on top of her with bright eyes. Her hands were pressed under her, under him.
“You tried to kill me,” he said, calmly as ever.
She was panting now, both from the recovery of her breath and sheer terror. And calmly as ever, he raised his right hand and brought it down hard across her face. It was the opposite of what anyone could call a slap. She felt the shock of the blow and then the pain, reacting with a sharp intake of her breath. With the back of his hand, he hit the left side of her face, turning it back to the other side. She screamed. He did this several more times. She wasn’t sure how many, because she nearly passed out several times from the unbelievable pain. By the time he was finished, her mouth was bleeding and her eyes were beginning to swell. The bruising on her face would come later. She was sobbing uncontrollably.
“I said I’d kill your cats,” he said.
“No, no, please, no, please,” she begged, sobbing even more.
He looked at her like a disappointed father. “Then I’ll have to punish you more,” he said.
She cried loudly.
He hit her face twice more, just as hard as before and she screamed again.
“And that’s nothing, you know, compared to how I would hit a man,” he added casually. Then he leaned his head in close to hers.
“Apologize,” he said, in a very low and quiet voice.
She was sobbing and hiccupping. She couldn’t get any words out.
“Apologize,” he said again.
“I’m sorry,” she said, as soon as she could form words.
He hit her again.
“Again.”
“I’m sorry.” She spoke like a little kid.
“And not that you missed.”
“I’m sorry,” she said in a choked voice, “that I tried to hurt you.”
“Again.” And he raised his hand and held it up in the air.
“I’m so sorry! Please. Please. I’m so sorry.”
Her face was covered in tears now, as well as blood.
“That hurt my feelings,” he said.
She wailed a little at that and continued to cry.
“I should kill them.”
“Please, please, please, please, please.” She tried to regain enough composure to talk. “I’m so sorry. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Please.” Her words were thick with sobs.
“Well,” he said, keeping her waiting. “Just this one time then.” He smacked her face again, but not quite so hard. It was still enough to make her scream. “Pull your legs apart and hold them to your chest. I’m going to make a little back-door visit, but I want to see your face when I do. It’s so lovely.”
She sobbed some more. He raised his eyebrows, and she pulled her legs up and to her chest, enough for him to do what he wanted. She was still sobbing as he entered her ass and thrust himself back and forth inside her. His position was slightly awkward, but that didn’t seem to bother him. He had a joyful look on his face. She was crying harder now, with the additional pain. He’d used no lubrication. He stayed at it for several long minutes before he shuddered to a satisfied stop. When he pulled out, she still held onto her legs.
“You can let go now,” he said, so she did. She curled up sobbing. He took her in his arms and held her, stroking her hair back away from her traumatized face. For some reason, this seemed to make her cry harder.
“Poor baby,” he said. “Next time, get a double action. In your situation, you needed fully automatic.”
He felt her nod her head slightly at his words, and he smiled.
She continued to cry, and he continued to hold her.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
What a fucking idiot she was. Jesus. She knew, she knew, she knew how she had to play this game. She knew that. And yet she couldn’t resist. She couldn’t help herself. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the gun by the bed. When she saw the opening, she’d tried to kill him. And, yes, it all would have been beautiful had it worked. But she should have known that it wouldn’t. It never does against people like this. She was a fucking amateur. It had been a boneheaded move, and now she had the bruises to show for it. Her plan had not been to cause herself unnecessary pain and suffering. What wore her down lessened her ability to think and plan. He was right. There is always something worse.
And the other problem was that when you tried something and failed, it was demoralizing. This was a battle of wills, and she had just given up some of hers.
Not to mention, he could have killed her cats. She was pretty sure he would have, too. If they hadn’t had the brains to vamoose at the noise and struggle. And no, she didn’t blame them.
Just stupid.
She could have used that gun when she’d had him eating out of her hand, however long that took. When he thought she’d given up. She should have been patient. Now he would redouble his suspicion of her, never let his attention waiver. He’d know that there was so much inside her still ready to keep up the fight.
Or was there?
Ok, ok, ok. A dumb move and all, but maybe it could be redeemed. Maybe she could work with this. Maybe she could make this work for her. Maybe... if she acted just the way she felt right now.
She had to admit, never in her life had anybody hurt her physically like this. She was like most middle-class, suburban types. She’d never even been in a fistfight. She’d been spanked as a child and smacked on the face. More recently, she’d been spanked a little harder and smacked around very lightly by people who had no intention of really hurting her. And hadn’t. No one had ever really hit her like this. It made her want to sob again just thinking about it. It was shocking. And she knew, he could have hit her even harder, hard enough to kill her. It wasn’t like the movies where people took a beating and moved right on to the next action sequence. In reality, it wouldn’t take all that many blows to kill somebody like her.
Being hit like that really, really hurt.
It made her doubt herself. It made her scared. She felt like curling up inside herself in a little ball. Maybe, for a while, that’s just what she’d do.
She wondered if this was the low point, or if she would go lower.
What, in God’s name, should she do next?
She was scared now. Very scared.
She had no idea what she would do. She was losing. How could she be losing? She was smarter than him. She was sure of it. Somehow that was turning out not to be enough. Not enough. Then what? What was she doing wrong?
Subdued, he thought. That was the word to describe her. Not broken, not finished, not yet. But subdued. She had a lot less fight in her now, it seemed. He had given a random thought or two to doing something to the cats, but he may have missed his chance. The one in the bedroom, who could usually be found curled up on a small, upholstered stool in the corner, was nowhere to be seen. He imagined they might have gone into hiding, possibly as a result of the ruckus. Oh, well.
He preferred to deal directly with humans. It was so much more fun. For a sadist like him, anyway.
He had forced her, moving like a zombie, to accompany him to the kitchen while he prepared a snack for himself. He’d brought everything back to the bedroom and was now happily eating his cheese and crackers off of her sweet, little ass. He ignored the slight traces of blood. She said nothing; she just lay on her stomach, cuffed hands folded under her chin. He’d offered her some, but she wasn’t interested. She wasn’t talking or asking any questions. He didn’t mind for now; he was enjoying replaying in his mind recent events. The sight of her face, the sound of her sobs, the feel of the sweat that came from her fear and her pain and had covered her pale body with a beautiful sheen. These were the moments he lived for.
“You’re sure you’re not hungry?” he said, with his mouth full.
She just nodded.
“You wanna watch some TV? I could use a little break,” he said.
She shook her head.
“Are you not talking to me?” he asked.
She shook her head slowly and then she nodded it.
“Good answer,” he said. “Still,” he added, “That’s surprising. You’ve wanted to talk about everything until now. Don’t you want to know what drives me to do such things?”
She shook her head.
“Although, you have to admit, I did have some justice on my side. You
had
just tried to kill me. It was only natural that I be offended.” He stopped and waited, a tiny smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
She brought her head up for a second, then let it drop down again.