“Wrong. I am a rape artist.”
“Please.”
His movements became much rougher inside her.
“What? Did I hit a nerve?” she asked. “I thought you had no illusions. I’ll hand it to you. This is very creative, but it’s still just rape. The most pathetic of crimes. And no matter how innovative you are, it can never disguise the fact that what you dream of really is that one day that girl you hold in your arms in a mockery of romance – how revealing is that, by the way? – will be the one who finally understands you and forgives you and ultimately loves you. That’s what you’re really dreaming of. And that will never happen.”
She didn’t get the chance to continue with this line of thought because he pushed her head into the pillow, cutting off her air supply, while he turned her onto her stomach. Removing his penis from her vagina, with absolutely no preliminaries, he shoved it into her anus.
“Maybe it’s you,” he said, a little more loudly than usual, seemingly almost losing his cool for an instant. He pounded into her relentlessly, only briefly letting her come up for air, before pressing her head back into the bedclothes, pulling her back and forth by the hair. “Is it you?” he asked. “Do you love me? Do you love me? Are you the one?” And at this, he kept her head down past the point where she would lose consciousness. She passed out as he came with a roar.
He stayed inside her for a little while, his hands pressing down on her shoulders, putting all of his weight on her. He let just enough air get to her to keep her alive. Finally, he let her head fall to the side, so that she could breathe normally. When she came to, her face was white, and she said nothing. She just focused on breathing.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear that,” he said.
She stayed silent. He could feel her trembling.
“You were saying something. Weren’t you saying something?”
Nothing. Then he thought he heard a sigh.
“I let you talk. Remember that,” he said. “You might want to be a little more careful in what you choose to say. Because there’s a price to be paid for everything. And it doesn’t matter even if you’re right, does it, if you’re in pieces by the end of it? Oh,” he added. “You’re bleeding, by the way.”
He heard her sniff in, and it was music to his ears.
“I guess I just got carried away with emotion.”
She stayed quiet and ashen faced.
He leaned down, putting his face near hers. “Hey, baby. Are you sad? Is there something wrong? Did I say something to hurt you? Or did I actually hurt you? And do you now know the difference?”
He let himself fall back on the bed next to her, while she quietly pulled her knees into her chest, assuming the fetal position, facing away from him. He let her stay that way for a few minutes.
He heard her take several deep breaths. Then she spoke.
“I guess I hit a sore spot.”
“So did I,” he laughed. “Twelve minutes, by the way. It took you twelve minutes to recover enough to start fencing with me again. I have to say, I’m impressed yet again. But now you’re doing it just to try to save face. And that way, defeat lies. Also madness.”
“You don’t cuddle the men, do you?”
“Huh?”
“You know, that first inimitable embrace. Your signature move. You don’t do that to the men, do you?”
“No, it’s true. I don’t.”
“So there’s something different about the women.”
“They’re easier to handle.”
“Seriously.”
“Seriously, darling.”
“What if it
is
me?”
“Pardon?”
“What if I am that girl? The one who could understand you, appreciate you, love you? If you destroy me, you’ll never know.”
“Now that’s just special pleading. I haven’t conceded that there is any such girl out there. Or that I’m looking for her.”
“But how can you not be?” She said it softly, not sharply, not as if she were seeking victory in a debate.
“Maybe that’s the kind of thing you’re looking for. But I’m not looking for anything. Just the sensation of this experience. That’s all I want.”
“I just – and I don’t mean to be mean right now, really – I just don’t think that can be true.”
“Well, then you’re showing a very unusual, for you, inability to accept the awful facts in front of you. I’m just that empty and that evil.”
She shook her head to herself. “Well, then I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
He gave her a double take. And then he smiled. “You are truly full of surprises. I wish I could believe you. But that is an impressive left turn there.”
“I know you don’t believe me, but I meant that. I’m not fighting right now.” Her voice sounded strained. “I really hurt right now. I don’t want to think about anything else.”
“Poor baby,” he said, but he didn’t make it as nasty as he could have. “Daddy will kiss it and make it better.”
And before she could say anything, he began to kiss her body, starting at her shoulders and moving slowly down her back, across her ass and even on the rim that he had ripped just a short time before. His kisses were gentle, but she knew that he was far from being nice, not even for just a moment. The game was still on, she knew. He wanted her to enjoy it. To unbend and let her body respond. To be grateful for these kisses and ultimately to want more. And then he’d know that he was winning. That he had sliced off another little piece of her soul. She lay there, trying to figure out what to do. He slipped a finger inside her vagina and started working on her there. He wouldn’t know if it was a decision she made or something beyond her control, but he was gratified to see her begin to respond. When he felt her tightening around his finger, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing softly.
And when she finished, magnanimously, he let her rest for a little while more.
If he really were so calm and collected, so confident and unflappable as he claimed, he wouldn’t be so fucking sensitive. But when she had treated him with disrespect and sarcasm, he’d had absolutely no patience. He had immediately needed to dominate and punish her.
So she knew how to make him angry. That might be useful. Even if the cost had been high. She couldn’t recall seeing this kind of raw, dare she say it, naked power urge since she was a little girl. It’s why some people had children.
What was funny was how easy it was to do as much crying as she had to do with this man. Tears had stopped flowing for her a short time after her husband had departed. Nothing after that made her want to release them. Yet, now, every time she told herself to cry or weep or sob or shake or shudder or tremble, it was easy, as if the tears and the terror had just been waiting.
But he was a roller coaster ride, this one, gentle then brutal, demanding then giving, fucking her for his own pleasure then insisting on making sure she got hers. All to keep her off balance, all to show that he was in control of everything, even her most intimate responses. If she held back, he won. If she gave in, he won. She might as well allow herself the pleasure he offered her, given that she assumed only worse lay ahead. He’d believe he was winning no matter what she did. That was it. That was the secret. He always believed he was winning. Somewhere in there was his weakness. It was important to fight back but only so hard. He had to continue to believe he was ahead, on top, but that it was an accomplishment, that she did present a real challenge. She didn’t know exactly how she’d use this, but she knew it was the key.
“You live in a fantasy world, don’t you?” she said. Her voice was glum, and her demeanor lacked her previous spunk, he noticed.
“I do. I mean I
really live
in a fantasy world. This is my fantasy world, where I make you do whatever I want. I can make you pretend to be my girlfriend, or anything at all. What could be better?”
She just shook her head and looked away.
“I said, ‘what could be better?’ That’s your cue.”
“What’s the point?”
“The point? Aside from pleasing me? Oh, I don’t know. Proving that I’m wrong? Isn’t that your point?”
“I don’t feel like it.”
“Awwwww.”
She raised one eyebrow briefly. “I don’t think I’m ever going to prove anything to you.”
“That didn’t stop you earlier.”
“I was young and ambitious then.”
“I’ve aged you.”
“Definitely.”
“That easily, huh?”
“Huh?”
“You were just one brutal butt-fuck away from giving up?”
“Maybe it’s cumulative.”
He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know if I quite believe you.”
She shrugged.
“Suck my cock.”
She didn’t even bother to hesitate. She knelt over him on the bed, moved her head down, and took him into her mouth. As she bobbed her head back and forth, he stroked her breasts and down her side. She didn’t even shudder, the way she usually did when he touched her.
“Lick me,” he said, after a few minutes.
She did as he asked. She felt him stretch a little back into the bed. He made light moaning sounds. But he didn’t close his eyes. Not for a second. That’s all she would have needed.
He let her continue for 10 or 15 minutes, his penis getting harder and harder all the while.
“What should I do with this now?” he said, in a light, toying voice.
“I don’t know.”
“And you don’t care. I get it.”
She kept doing what she was doing.
“Climb on top of me, cowgirl.”
He watched her face. She just looked tired. She complied.
“Up and down. You do the work, for a change.”
Even that didn’t rile her. She seated herself on top of him, impaling herself on him with a slight grimace, and slowly began to move up and down.
“Faster,” he ordered.
He watched her breasts bounce up and down as she moved on top of him.
“Should I make you come or not?” he asked, panting a little.
“No answer is the right one,” she said.
He grinned. “I still don’t know if I believe you, but I am enjoying this. Make me come now. Faster. Even rhythm.”
She did what she could. Finally, at a certain point, he put his hands on her shoulders and held her firmly in place, while his penis vibrated inside of her.
When he was finished, he let go, but told her to stay where she was. She stayed.
He stared up at her happily.
“So now you’re mine, huh? No more fighting. No more spirit. Just a dead soul in a cooperative body.”
“Isn’t that what you want?”
“You see, you’re still trying to find a way.”
“A way to what?” she asked, exasperated.
“A way to survive intact. You don’t get to do that.”
“Then what do you want to happen?”
“You’ll know when it does.”
“Maybe it has.”