Pretty When She Cries (3 page)

“Don’t worry, I won’t push you too hard too fast, hey? It doesn’t have to be bad. I can make it feel good. I mean, it’s up to you how much it’s going to hurt.”

She made a queer sobbing sound when he pulled out his pocket knife from his jeans. He cut the shoelaces off her wrists and freed her hands. She didn’t know how sore they were until now.

“If you try to run, I will catch you and hurt you real bad,” he said, massaging the nape of her neck, and pressing his forehead to hers. He backed her up against the mattress. He sat her down, and stood in front of her. He began unbuckling his belt. “Have you ever been raped?”

She shook her head, almost sobbing.

“Abused when you were a kid—an uncle, brother, cousin, father, friend of the family?”

She kept shaking her head.

“Shit. You got off lightly. Most women I know have been fucked up one way or another. Take off your blouse for me.”

She looked up at him. “Please, don’t do this. Let me go.”

He slapped her in the side of the head. She put her hands up as if she had been half-deafened, but she remained obstinately uncooperative. He crouched down, and grabbed her wrist. He took hold of one of her fingers as if he would snap it. She cried out and clutched his hand, terrified he was going to break her finger.

“If you keep pissing me off, you’ll be leaving here disfigured, or dead. Take off your top,” he said. He let her go and she held her hand. Then slowly she pulled the rest of her blouse out from her skirt waistband, and undid the rest of the buttons. She stopped and looked at him pleadingly, and dropped her hands to her sides.

“Take it all the way off,” he said.

She reluctantly slid the light blouse off her shoulders, and held it scrunched in her hands, not looking at him. He stood massaging his erection while he watched.

“The bra.”

She reached behind her back, and found her bra hooks, and pulled them apart. She let the bra slip off, resisting the urge to cover her exposed breasts.

“Oh, yeah,” she heard him sigh. “Now your skirt. Stand up. Give me your bra.”

She handed him her black lace bra. He examined it, feeling it, and pressing it to his face, inhaling her perfume which should have been for Cameron. Then he took her arm and helped her to stand. The adrenaline combined with the fatigue from the long flight made her unsteady. Her skirt was still bunched up around her waist. He put his hands on her bare breasts, feeling them, while she unbunched her skirt so she could get to her zip. He reached behind her and stopped her hand. He wanted to do it. He slowly unzipped her and pulled the skirt all the way down her legs. She stepped out of it, and he kicked it aside. Other than her heels she was entirely naked.

He hugged her tightly, pulling her toward him, her arms hanging at her sides. Her face lay in the crook of his neck. His bare chest was warm, but with an animal heat, and his chest hair was slightly course against her bare breasts.

“You feel so good,” he said quietly, rubbing himself against her. He brushed her blonde hair away from her face. “Kiss me nicely, better than last time.” She glanced away, and he held her tighter. “Make me feel good, or I’ll make you hurt.”

She touched his mouth in a kiss, and her lips parted slightly, gently moving over his. She was very hesitant, with a soft, lingering touch, a little slow. He kept his hand deeply in her hair, and gave a small tug to show he expected more. She tried to keep her lips soft, pliable, her tongue meeting his. His hands went all over her body, cupping and squeezing her breasts, stroking her sides, and fondling between her legs. She kept kissing him, her tongue circling and playing with his. She pushed herself into the kiss, summoning all her strength to keep it going.

Finally, he broke off. They both were breathing heavily. “Get on your knees,” he said.

She kneeled down carefully. Her face was pale and grim. She knew what was coming next. He made her lean forward, and pressed her closed lips to the tip of his dick. She held it lightly in her mouth, and he guided her lips over it, up and down.

“Open your mouth and suck it!”

She gave him more pressure, warmer, sucking him awkwardly. He brushed her hair backwards with his fingers as she worked on him.

“Come on. You said it was going to be the best I’d ever had,” he said. He sucked his breath through his teeth and sighed deeply. “Do you do this for your boyfriend?”

She nodded, then paused to swallow a little bit and wipe her mouth.

“Keep sucking it,” he said. “It’s going to fuck you soon. Oh, yeah, make me feel good. It’s feeling good now.” He gathered her hair up into a ponytail to keep it out of the way. “Do you love it? Do you love me fucking your mouth?”

She nodded “yes,” and kept sucking.

“Oh, my god. Oh, baby, yes. Don’t stop.” He slouched towards her, holding her by her hair, guiding her head and mouth. He was getting harder, more aggressive. “You’re going to make me fucking come so fast, baby. You’re making me want to come already, you know that?” She pressed her hands on his thighs trying to control the depth a little, as he lunged into her mouth.

He suddenly pulled out, and pushed her backwards onto the filthy mattress. She instinctively brought her arms and legs up to protect herself, but he fell on her and pushed them aside. He held her hands out of the way, enjoying her breasts something fierce, kissing them, licking them, sucking them.

She lay still, wincing occasionally. He got quite rough, taking each delicate nipple in turn in his mouth and sucking. She couldn’t get out from underneath him, but pushed and pressed against his shoulders. He bit her breast and made her scream as if an electric shock went through her. He was going to rip her fucking nipples off!

“Settle down, settle down!” He restrained her until she was quiet again, panting and squirming, beneath him. He eased off, and soothingly licked her sore nipples. He kissed her some more, grinding himself against her. The cold metal of his zipper kept touching her, making her shiver. She was staring away at the wall, and he was energetically nuzzling her hair, kissing her, licking her ears, and whispering what he was going to do to her. He kept pushing the fly of his jeans out of the way, then decided to get up and take his jeans off altogether.

“Don’t move!” He pointed at her. He tore his remaining clothes off. In an instant he was back on her. He and she were both naked. He took hold of his dick, and was rubbing it up and down the flesh of her slit. After a few moments of this, he put a knee between hers, and said, “Open your legs!”

She tensed up, and put her hands against his chest. He knocked them away, capturing her wrists over her head. “Don’t resist. You’ll get slapped.”

Holding her with one hand, his other hand pushed the head of his prick into her opening, and drove it into her. She screamed as he strove to get properly into her, and in spite of being held down, she thrashed so desperately that it was a while before he could get a real good thrust. But he managed to pin her for a moment, and shoving furiously against her, he succeeded in forcing it all the way up, in spite of her cries and frantic struggles.

“Shut the fuck up!” He slapped her across the face bringing blood to the side of her mouth. He propped himself up on his hands either side of her head, and slowed down somewhat, agitating himself on her with long, steady strokes. If she tried to look away, he grabbed her face and pointed it at him. He began to fuck her with long, rhythmic strokes. She submitted passively, knowing that resistance was useless.

“Yeah, YEAH, Nicole!” he said, as if she was enjoying it. She squeezed her eyes shut, and he tapped her face a couple of times. “Keep looking at me. You like having a man in your body?” he asked, panting, then laying heavily on her he put his lips to her ear. “I’m fucking you, Nicole, I’m raping you,” he said, as he kissed and nuzzled her. “I know you like it, you slut. You wouldn’t be so fucking wet if you didn’t. Neither of us will ever forget this. You’ll always remember my face. You’ll always remember me.”

He clutched her face so she was looking at him, and gave her a long, hard, wet, kiss. Then he pulled himself out slightly, and slammed back into her. He thrust into her again, and again, and again. Naked beneath him, she felt completely exposed, transparent with pain and anguish. He was looking down at her, while he thrust into her body, in and out, in and out, every stroke sheer agony. It was perfect pleasure to him.

“Yeah, Nicole baby, yeah, my cock is feeling good deep in your cunt. Oh, Nicole, you were made to be fucked, and I’m fucking you, Nicole, oh baby . . . “ He propped himself up on his hands, looking down at her, while his hips rose and fell at an even pace, pushing into her. “Fuck you feel good. Spread your legs some more, you want it! Come on, come on!” He was hitting her harder and harder, breathing heavily.

“Don’t come in me!” she pleaded. “Please! Please—pull out! Please!”

He became tense. He put his head back, pushing with deep rapid thrusts, then his head fell forward. A few broken sighs and groans came from him, and he stopped. She closed her eyes, all her face quivering. It was too late. There was a short moment, then he pulled back, jammed himself in deep again. He pushed himself into her as hard and deep as he could.

“You made me come too soon,” he said, feeling between her thighs, keeping himself lodged in there. His thumb brushed her clitoris as he put his lips over hers, probing her mouth with a lazy tongue. He settled his weight down on her tortured body, relaxing. He kissed her a bit here and there, pinching her nipples, and occasionally moved his soft prick so it stayed comfortably seated in her body. He wiped the blood from the corner of her lip, and smeared it on the already-filthy mattress. Then he smoothed her messy hair away from her tense brow. She was silent, breathing heavily, her eyes wet with weeping.

The air was heavy with the odour of sweat and sex. She could feel the wetness as he pulled out, and lay beside her. She was sore and felt like she couldn’t breathe as she cried and trembled. His fingers moved back inside her, making her wince at the ache and throb between her thighs.

“You’re one thoroughly fucked bitch,” he murmured, half frigging her. “You don’t like my scum in your body, do you? It’s still moving. It’s going deeper and deeper into you. You might get pregnant,” he muttered as he poked her and his thumb began to rub her clit. “You’ll fuck lots of men after me, but you’ll never forget me. Is that starting to feel good? You like this?” he began to murmur again as he licked her breast. His fingers manipulated her persistently. She started to tense up.

“That’s good—let me make you feel good, girl,” he whispered as he kept poking and rubbing her. She was horrified when she felt a flutter in her tummy. She didn’t know what was happening. She closed her eyes, crying silently as her body tensed before she trembled and came with a whimper.

He loomed over her face. “Did you just come?”

She turned her face aside, sobbing uncontrollably. She hated that her body had reacted that way. She tried to turn from him, curling into a ball, but he held her, smothering her with kisses. She grew frantic for breath. He grabbed her face. “Hey, look at me, look at me,” he said. “Was that good? Did you like that?”

She shook her head, still crying.

“How can I fucking make you come, if you don’t like it, lying bitch!” He smacked the side of her head. She raised her hands too late, with a queer clawing movement to cover her eyes and face, and sobbed even harder.

“Shut up! shut up!” He slapped her again, and she went silent, but choking and catching her breath. His eyes were fixed on her. She felt now that nothing would prevent him from beating her to death. She couldn’t prevent him any more. She was at his mercy.

He suddenly got up and slipped on his jeans, without his underwear. She sat up dazedly. She glanced around quickly, looking for something, a weapon, anything, a way to escape. She was about to make a dash, but he kneeled on the mattress again. She looked up at him. She couldn’t read his face. “Please . . . ”

“What’s going to happen if I let you go?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Are the police going to be around here, knocking at my door? Is that what’s going to happen?”

“No. I swear. I won’t say anything.”

“Not even to your boyfriend?”

She shook her head. “I swear. Please.”

She didn’t take her eyes off his, waiting to see what he would do. “I don’t believe you,” he said.

“No! no! no!” she screamed as he dragged her off the mattress. He got behind her holding her wrists for better physical control, and forced her over to a thick wooden beam. She saw then that an old rusty chain was wrapped at the base of it. He grabbed the chain, and soon got it around one of her wrists. He used a padlock to secure her. He stepped back and let her thrash violently against the chain. She couldn’t quite stand at full height, because the length of it was too short.

“I have to go get your car,” he said calmly, wiping the sweat from his mouth.

She watched him go into another room, which looked like a kitchen. He came out again with a metal bowl. Then he went to the corner and pushed the mattress with his foot all the way over to her. He place the bowl next to it. “If you need to piss or shit.”

“Oh, my God!” She covered her face in her hands, then covered her mouth, watching him.

He put his shirt and boots back on, then grabbed his keys. The room was dull and dark in the late afternoon, but he didn’t switch on any lights before going out. She stood motionless, numb and bewildered, then glanced around for something. Nothing was in reach. The room was empty, except for some filthy furniture and an old television. She tried to take in her surroundings. She seemed lost in a haze, yet she was hyper-aware of everything. She started tugging at the chain again, but all it was achieving was to hurt her wrists.