Pretty When She Cries (5 page)

She ignored him and concentrated on zoning out. She felt her back start to relax.

“Let it go, baby,” he whispered. One finger brushed her clit, teasing it gently.

A little bit came out. His fingers slid over her pussy, rubbing the wet, swollen flesh. He stared intently at her. He tickled her clit again and she felt the muscles start to relax. Instead of tightening against them, she pushed with them, opening them up. The little escaping drips became a stronger dribble.

“That’s so sexy, baby, so sexy,” he crooned, rubbing her clit again. She could feel her hot pee dribbling over his hand. She closed her eyes staying relaxed, while her steady stream of pee died down. She felt relief. Everything was burning and tight, but she felt okay.

She opened her eyes, and looked at him. He was staring at her intently. She burst into tears. She really had thought she was broken. She thought maybe something had collapsed and she was blocked, or that something inside was torn and leaking. She had all sorts of insanely bad thoughts.

“Aww. Come here,” he said. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He leaned forward, and held her behind the neck, kissing her. He took some toilet tissue and dabbed between her thighs. She was so destroyed, she didn’t make a single effort against him when he took her back to the lounge. He chained her up again. She lay motionless on the mattress. He lay next to her, pressing and patting her down there. “Showing me your personal parts while doing something so incredibly personal is hot, baby, you know that? You’re so hot.”

“Oh! . . . don’t,” she said, trying to stop him from getting on top of her.

“Gently this time, gently,” he promised.

“No more,” she moaned agonizedly, twisting herself in her distress, “let me go, please; don’t . . . don’t . . . ” and her voice failed her. He was already inside her. She looked vacantly at the dark ceiling while he pushed and grunted, and small tears began to trickle out of her eyes. He murmured something as he nuzzled her, and she felt him suck her skin into his mouth as he marked her over and over.

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.

He took another puff of the cigarette and forced the smoke into her mouth. She choked and gagged. He kind of laughed, and leaned away to put the cigarette out. Then he lay between her legs. Taking her white breasts between his fingers and thumbs, he pressed and squeezed them, rubbed them against each other, rolled them upwards and downwards, finally taking each delicate nipple in turn in his mouth and sucking it while his hands squeezed as if they were trying to milk her. He was making deep satisfied sounds. He kept one hand on her breast near his mouth, while the other hand roamed her body. He began kissing her neck viciously. She groaned and turned her face to one side, but he kept going, and moving himself onto her more, thrust himself in her body, fucking her deeply.

It was too painful, and her body began to jerk and twist and arch under his repeated assault, forcing her to resist him. He batted her hands out of the way, before he pushed her legs up and held them. He began to move differently, even deeper and harder. She cried out and hit at his face with her fists. He let go of her legs and grabbed at her hands, holding her wrists. She was thrashing wildly and crying, but he forced her over onto her belly, and lifted her hips, trying to sodomize her. Kicking and squirming, she tried to crawl away, but he kept pulling her toward him into a position where he could sink himself into her. He slammed the top of her head with his fist.

“You fucking bitch! You fucking bitch!” He hit her again, and again, and she went limp. He fell on her back, pinning her down. “Think you’re tough? Huh? You want to fight?” He held her face down into the mattress suffocating her, till she thought she was going to pass out, then he pulled her head back by her hair. She gasped and babbled and begged for him to stop.

“You deserve to be fucked by every man who looks at you. Tell me what a little slut you are. Tell me you’re a spoiled bitch.” He tore at her hair.

“I’m a spoiled bitch,” she said, desperately.

“And you deserve to be raped.” Her shoulders were shaking violently with her sobbing. “And you deserve to be raped!” he said again.

“And I deserved to be raped!” she screamed.

He kept his weight pressing on her back. She was sobbing and catching her breath. He suddenly got off her and she curled into a small shaken heap. He pushed the mattress, with her still on it, right up against the wooden beam so that it was touching. Her crying dried up instantly. She didn’t know what he was doing. She watched him with red, bleary eyes.

“No! No! Please,“ she begged when he grabbed her wrist and unlocked the padlock. He let go of her a moment while he wound the chain around the beam making the chain really short. She scrambled off the mattress and made a dash for the door. Just as she reached it, his body slammed into her, and he caught her in his arms. He carried her struggling and screaming back to the mattress. He wrapped the chain around both her wrists, not listening to her tearful and hysterical cries. The chain was so short she was forced to kneel forward on her knees and elbows, her wrists bound in front of her. He got behind her pressing his thighs and belly against her, and slipping his arm around her waist, lifted her hips, so that her hindquarters were raised. Every time she tried to drop down into a difficult position, he dragged her hips upwards again. He pressed the tip of his prick against her ass, and with a hard shove, succeeded in forcing its head inside her, in spite of her cries and frantic struggles. Gripping her tightly to him, he rammed fiercely into her, hurting her intensely. Her shrieks and cries rang through the room as he strove to get into her. She squirmed and twisted, crying hysterically, “Stop, stop!”