Break Her

Break Her
© 2012 by B.G. Harlen

Sculpture by Peter Moulton (
www.petermoulton.com
)

Cover design by Mr. Grey (
www.mr-grey.com
)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

For more information, go to:

www.bgharlen.com

www.breakherthebook.com

Thanks to: the sister, the physicist, the Frenchwoman, the Wolf, and, of course, Mr. Grey.

She wasn’t sure if she was actually awake. She felt funny. Immobile. And there was... Jesus. She really couldn’t move. Someone was holding her. She could feel him all along the back of her body. One of his arms was pinning both of hers to her sides, while his other arm was around her throat, maybe a quarter of an inch from cutting off her breathing entirely. As it was, she was speechless. He had a leg wrapped around each one of hers, with a force that she couldn’t counter. She couldn’t move. And she really wanted to, because as she quickly became aware of herself, she realized that this man’s penis was deep inside her. Her eyes were wide open, but she was facing away from him and could see nothing that was going on. All she could do was listen and feel. He was moving gently inside her, in and out, shallow strokes. It didn’t hurt. Not physically.

Not physically. But in every other way.

Before she could think, before she could plan, before she could even entirely take in what was happening, she found herself wanting to cry. Not the sad kind of crying, the weeping from sorrow or despair, but the instinctive, spontaneous sobbing of a child. The way she would cry when she was little and she’d tripped and fallen down on the street, that immediate “mommy take care of me, daddy please hold me” feeling, the impulse she still felt, if she admitted it, for a split second on those rare occasions when circumstances beyond her control caused her to lose her footing, to crash to the ground. To burst into uncomplicated tears. But you don’t. Not when you’re a grownup.

Goosebumps sprang up on her whole body, and a giant shudder ran through her, as she began to admit to herself what was happening. Her chest began to heave as gasps began to form in her lungs.

But the way he was holding her, she was barely able to take in enough air for normal breathing. If she let herself panic, she might suffocate.

She tried to swallow, to stay calm.

She couldn’t even imagine how this had happened without her feeling it.

He moved his head against hers and placed his mouth by her ear. “It wasn’t really that difficult,” he said in a casual voice. “I just pressed on your carotid arteries while you were sleeping so you’d pass out for a few seconds. That’s all it took. The hardest thing was cutting your nightgown off. But you didn’t even wake up. You’re a good sleeper.”

Her breath snagged in her throat as she tried to gather enough to speak, but she couldn’t. She could feel his smile against her ear. He speeded up his motions inside her. And moaned.

“You’ll never know how good this feels,” he said in the same calm voice. She stayed still. She forced her muscles to untense. She was trying to make it as easy as it could be on herself.

“Very good,” the man said. “Very good.” But she didn’t know if he meant what he was doing or what she was doing. “But it doesn’t work that way,” he added, making it a little clearer. “When I come, I stop. But I can’t come until you do.”

She made a tiny sound in her throat.

“What a bad lover I would be, if I didn’t see to it that you got some pleasure out of this.”

He gently nipped at her earlobe. He could feel her clench her jaw.

Everything in her wanted to scream, he knew. That was normal. But everything she did from this moment on wasn’t. He should have gotten it right then and there. If someone responds the way this woman was about to, then something very unusual is going on. Only a very special kind of person is capable of that. Not the kind of person easily dealt with. But everyone has a weakness. Everyone ignores the facts sometimes when it suits them.

Or maybe he wasn’t ignoring anything. Because what happened next was something that had never happened before, not in a long, long career of highly professional, personalized mayhem. Somebody would manage to astound him, to astonish him, to shock him. Maybe he did know what he was doing. Maybe it was what he had always been looking for.

He kept up the beat, in and out, in and out.

He couldn’t see her close her eyes. She could feel him inside her, in and out, in and out. Sometimes slowly, other times faster.

And then she wasn’t there. Initial revulsion cut off, sobs short-circuited, the present gratefully if only temporarily abandoned – at his words, her brain had wheeled around with a skid and run, hurtling, back into the dream state she’d been in before he’d awakened her. Sleep was always the answer, she’d found, the answer to a lifetime of pain, of things she didn’t want to feel. And dreaming was the only pleasure she had anymore. Somehow, on some level, she knew that right now, for just now, maybe for the last time, she had the chance to let herself believe what she wanted more than anything in the world to believe. And that would make it possible to do what she had to do.

Instead of loud, which is what he’d expected, she got very quiet. Instead of active, passive. He didn’t know that she was very busy believing something as hard as she could, hiding from his world in one of her own.

Four or five minutes passed. And then it happened. He really was surprised, a feeling almost unprecedented for him.

As he felt the first of her spasms, he found himself increasing the speed of his thrusting. She clamped down on him in a short series of internal contractions, and a deep, brief groan came out of her throat. He moved his arm away from her neck, and he heard her breath come quick and fast out of her. Without even thinking about it, he came in a brief shuddering instant of pure joy. As he relaxed a little himself afterwards, he kept his arm around her and felt her still trying to catch her breath. He pulled out and lay back on the bed, moving his legs from around hers to on top of them. She was still pinned to the bed, but her upper body was free.

She was awake now, and back, fully present once again. She turned toward him with a wild look in her eyes. He was to her right side. She raised her left arm as if to slap or hit him, but he grabbed it with his right and held it still. Tightly.

“You don’t want to do that,” he said, calmly, as usual. She would never hear him speak in any other manner. “Let’s keep this friendly. It’ll be a lot better for you that way.” He released the arm and she let it fall, but she stayed on her side, balanced on her right arm, staring at him.

“What
are
you?” she asked in wonder. There was a glimmering of tears in her eyes, but her mouth was firm and her jaw was hard.

“A professional,” he answered.

“Rapist?” she hissed.

“Among other things.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Money, of course.”

He kept his heavy legs on hers, but he stretched and put his hands behind his head. She suddenly realized she could see his face. She knew no dream could help her now.

“Oh, Jesus, I’m dead. I can see you. You’re letting me see you.” She began to pant. This time there was nothing to stop her.

“Nonsense. I’m not here to kill you.”

“Really.” It wasn’t a question. She put her hand to her chest, just beneath her throat, just above her heart, trying to calm her breathing.

“I’m supposed to destroy you without killing you. They don’t want you dead.”

“They?”

“You know,” he said, moving on, “I’m already very impressed. I could feel that. That wasn’t fake. You really came.” He smiled, as if delighted. “And fast. You’re the first one who’s ever been able to do that.”

“Don’t take it personally,” she gasped out. It was so fast and unexpected, that, again, he was astounded. She was making a joke. He was happy to play along.

“You weren’t thinking of me?” he asked coyly.

“No.” There was no hint of humor in her answer. Sadness, maybe, he thought. Whatever.

“Well. Even so. I have found, in the past, that that demand tends to really freak a woman out. She has to participate? She has to make herself enjoy it? Only one other woman was ever able to accomplish that, and it took her a lot of time and a lot of tears, you know, to get over the guilt.”

The woman next to him said nothing.

“You might just be much more bloody minded than anyone I’ve dealt with yet.”

“Bloody minded.” She repeated it, as if the phrase was new to her.

“Cold blooded,” he clarified.

“You said that’s what it would take.”

“And that’s what you did. Beautiful.”

“Are we done now?”

“I’m sorry, baby. I said destroy. This is only the beginning.”

“So what does the end look like?” She didn’t sound like she really wanted to know. She sounded resigned. Already.

He smiled. “If I told you that... it would be cheating.”

Suddenly and for the first time, she looked truly panic-stricken. “My cats!”

He shifted his position. He moved onto his side closer to her again. He put one hand on the back of her neck and with the other, he stroked her cheek. He felt her shiver with disgust.

“They’re fine. It was very sweet, the way they sleep with you. Two little fluffballs curled up next to their mistress. I moved them to the floor. Of course, I would have no problem killing them.”

“If I give you trouble, you mean.”

“Yes.”

“I won’t.”

“There’s not a lot you could give. Out here in the sticks. I’ve disconnected your phones and forwarded your calls to your cell. Which I have. I think I found most, if not all, of any potential weapons. New locks on the doors. Inside. No one around for miles. Lovely scenery here, by the way. It will just be you and me. Our romantic getaway.”