2 comments/ 66557 views/ 8 favorites Sean the Great By: sylviarockon This story depicts a graphic portrayal of a forced sexual encounter. This is a fictional story, and could not represent the horrifying reality of rape. Feedback on any aspect of the story, subject matter, grammar, characterization, plot etc. would be greatly appreciated. Thanks also to the generous persons who helped edit this story, you know who you are! * * * * * The happiest endings usually involve babies and family photos, Sean couldn’t think of anything worse. A happy ending was a long ride into nowhere, off a cliff preferably. Like Thelma and Louise, she thought dreamily. Flicking her eyes from the B movie that was playing on the TV above the bar, Sean stared at her shot glass that wavered before her eyes. Empty again. Through bleary eyes, she looked up to try and find the bartender. At this late hour on a Sunday the bar was almost empty. The usual drunks lay across its smeared surfaces or perched precariously on the ancient stools. Not one of them had enough sense to put more music on the out-of-date jukebox. More than likely they didn’t have money to spare for anything other than booze, she thought scornfully and probably couldn’t get up anyway. She had money to spare though, oh boy, did she have money to spare. After her last trick, the one that Arthur the Prick didn’t know about, yeah, she had money to spare…and what’s more, she was still quite capable of standing. Sean raised an elbow off the bar and swung around awkwardly on the stool. Clinging to the bar with one hand she slid inelegantly off the barstool and stood slouched for a moment till she could get her balance. Leaning on the bar for support she flipped back her long hair and then stood fully upright. The room seemed to shimmer in and out of focus as she peered out of large, heavily made-up green eyes. Now where had they put that jukebox? Wiping her face tiredly, she straightened her faux fur-collared coat and staggered toward the back of the bar. David watched the leggy redhead from his place behind the bar. At least once a night she strode into the bar for a few shots of tequila before returning to business on the street. He had noticed her his first night, barely two months ago. She was the “noticing” type. Almost six-foot in her worn-in, knee-high kid leather boots. Behind her thick makeup he figured there was a very good-looking girl. Her skin was pale and creamy, but it was her hair that had him worked up. No one had ever had hair that color of red. It hung in a surprisingly lustrous curtain, without a kink. A sigh escaped him as he watched her stagger drunkenly to the jukebox. Long, thin legs were bare from the top of the boots to the bottom of a long coat that swayed around her thighs. She was all arms and legs. Regarding her with pale eyes he saw her fumble with change and put on a song, some heavy metal shit that he hated. David bent to remove a tray of freshly washed glasses from the dishwasher and when he straightened she had flung off her red coat and was swaying to the loud music. The wrap-around top she wore was the kind that you tie yourself into, it left her midriff and her ample cleavage bare. She had the tightest, roundest ass he had ever seen. Showing it off in an indecently short miniskirt that barely covered her rump; but, he thought appreciatively, there was nothing decent about this girl. Watching her dance was making him feel horny and sick of himself; and sick of every other guy who got a hard on just watching her. For fifty he knew he could fuck her, but David had never paid for sex and he wasn’t about to start. For the hundredth time, he wondered what had happened to her to drive her into her current life. It wasn’t like he wanted to save her or anything either. He’d never been into the whole hero thing. Hell, for all he knew, she was putting herself through law school or something. He tried to imagine her all cleaned up in a business suit and grinned at the mental image. It didn’t fit. Courage had failed him when it came to striking up a conversation with her. He had seen the short way others had been disposed of who’d had the bad sense to hit on her. He also knew her pimp. Arthur was an evil bastard, not someone he wanted to upset. So he just contented himself pouring her shots and watching her move. “Bartender!” David raised his eyes as one of the regular patrons tapped the bar with an empty glass, but he finished drying and polishing the glass he was working on before moving slowly to supply a refill. Never let them see you jump to it, otherwise they expect too much and think they can boss you around. Number one rule of bartending, always leave them fearing you won’t serve them more. The regular slapped down a five, slung back the drink and seemed to nod back to sleep on the bar. David shook his head, poor old Ernie. He’d heard this one’s story, a schoolteacher who’d been dismissed for sexually harassing female students. Ernie had confessed one night after too many drinks and with a gleam in his eye that told David he was completely unrepentant. The Bartender: you were every drunken cretin’s shoulder to cry on. The cliché was true. “You filthy, lying, lazy piece of shit!” A voice suddenly roared from the doorway of the bar, interrupting the hazy peace like a bullhorn. David, Ernie and the other drowsy patrons were instantly alert. All eyes turned to watch the man rushing through the bar, bowling over a chair with a sharp, well-placed kick on his way. Sean stopped dancing at the sound of the voice and froze in place, instantly sober. Pulse beating in her ears, she set her teeth, planted her feet and turned to face the onslaught. Arthur the Prick, as she called him, burst through the bar to confront her, his face a contorted mask of rage. Arthur was a tall man, he looked tall, and he carried himself tall, his chest was a barrel of muscle and he had a fierce reputation as a street fighter. He wore a black leather jacket that he loved more than life itself. It had been stolen once and unwittingly the thief tried to sell it back to Arthur who promptly broke every finger of the guy's hand. Sean knew Arthur had killed someone once with his bare hands and she believed it. She’d seen his violence one time too many. She owed this man a lot; owed him her existence and she hated him for it. “Hey Arty, what’s your problem?” She spoke up hesitantly as he pulled up bristling and angry in front of her, his chin jutting out, his brow a thin line of fury. “What’s my problem you stupid bitch. What’s my problem? You fucking little whore! “ He roared, spittle flying from his lips. “You’re my problem. You’ve always been my problem. What’s my problem, she says?” He laughed, a dry little sound, and his sharp black eyes scoured the bar as if appealing to the awakened patrons to see his point of view. Sean took a step back when Arthur turned his head to see the effect his dramatic entrance had created. Always the showman, she thought sourly. When he turned back to her he took a quick step forward and his hand shot out and grabbed her face. Squeezing her jaw painfully he pulled her face roughly forward. “Where’s my fucking money?” He snarled close to her face so she could smell the reek of his after-shave and foul breath. “Ow, you’re hurting me.” Sean wiggled against his grip and then, unexpectedly he shoved her hard. Hovering in surprise for a moment, Sean fell sprawling on the floor. “I’ll say this one time only Sean. Just one time! Give me my fucking money.” Sean looked up from where she’d fallen on the filthy floor of the bar. Glaring at Arthur she picked herself up, brushing off the grime. She stalked to where her coat was slung on a table near the jukebox and shuffled through the pockets to produce what was left of the fifty she had just made. Arthur looked at her disparagingly as she handed it to him. “You’re lucky you didn’t drink more than your share,” he growled. When his hand shot out, Sean cringed thinking he was going to hit her. Instead, he almost tenderly brushed back a strand of her hair, stroking the red tresses lightly. “Don’t go out behind my back ever again, all right sweetie?” His tone was pleasant but she knew the violence that backed it up was real. Seething inside, Sean just nodded at him meekly, not daring to say anything and inflame the situation further. Arthur let his fingers linger on her cheek as he stared at her through softening eyes. His fingers drifted lower along her chin, down her neck and across her collarbone. Suddenly sickened, she watched as his eyes traveled the length of her slim body. Since they’d made their deal, he hadn’t touched her. Promising him that she would pull extra nights and bring in more money she’d convinced him to lay off her for awhile. She loathed sex with Arthur. Five long years ago, as a shy, innocent sixteen-year old runaway, he had made it clear that without sex there’d be no help and she’d been desperate. He had not been gentle. Sex with Arthur was always violent and always took her awhile to recover from his attacks. The last episode had put her out of commission for a week. One of the other girls had almost convinced Arthur to take her to the hospital; she had been so messed up. She had recovered as she always did. Since then she was making sure no one would mess with her again. She chose her tricks carefully and she was now fully equipped to defend herself. Arthur gave her one last, long look that spoke volumes, and smirked at her. Sean knew if she fucked up like this again he would renege on their deal and she couldn’t afford to let that happen. “Back to work, okay honey?” He said in that sugarcoated tone. “Okay,” she replied dutifully, not meeting his eyes. Arthur’s cold, bullying gaze roamed the bar again as if challenging someone to confront him. The patrons all avoided his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in their drinks. When he didn’t receive any response, he turned and left quickly, without looking back. Sean started breathing again, slowly at first to be sure she still was. Clutching her coat, she walked unsteadily back to her stool at the bar. Shaking uncontrollably she knew she couldn’t go back out there. Not until she’d had another drink. Arthur had taken all her money though. Glancing up she caught the bartender staring at her. She hadn’t noticed he was cute, at least in a jock kind of way. He had an old-fashioned crew cut and was peering at her with a curious expression. Pity? Her lip curled angrily. “What the fuck are you looking at?” She spat at him. David regarded her coolly, feeling the back of his neck prickle now that she was staring at him full face. While he had been worried when Arthur had burst into the bar and pushed her around, like most of the others he wasn’t stupid enough to confront the brute. So he’d watched and gritted his teeth, especially when he’d seen the way the pimp had touched her and looked at her. “Do you want a drink?” He asked finally, trying to keep his voice steady. “Nope,” she lied and started to leave. “On the house,” he said quickly. She stopped, turned and fixed him with those startling green eyes. “Well, I’m not the type of girl to pass up an offer like that am I now?” She replied smartly. “What’s your name?” He asked as he poured her a larger than usual shot of tequila. Rolling the glass around between her two hands, she fixed him with a cautious stare then shrugged her shoulders and looked away. “Sean. S-E-A-N.” She spelled it out and added with a small shrug. “My parents wanted a boy.” Taking a ragged breath she swallowed the alcohol, feeling it burn and settle her insides. It made her feel immediately better and she smiled at the bartender almost warmly. “Thanks,” she said and stalked out of the bar, oblivious to the men staring at her as she left. David turned his back on the patrons and closed his eyes. His mouth was dry and his hands trembled. She’d smiled at him, and when she smiled he could see that she, Sean, he rolled her name around in his mind “Sean,” was truly beautiful. * * * It was almost dawn. Sean thought she could just make out a pink sliver of light between the two boarded-up apartment blocks across the street from her place. Arthur’s place she corrected, reminding herself so she would never get too complacent. Each of his girls had a room in the old tenement and it was where they brought their tricks. Arthur could keep an eye on things. She was surprised he hadn’t installed surveillance devices, but he would never spend so much on anything but himself, she thought. Rolling over onto her back, she stretched her long body out, reveling in the clean white sheets. The last guy had left a couple of hours ago and she always changed the sheets at the end of the night and took a shower, lingering long under the cleansing hot water. They may pay her to endure their sweaty, sour smelling bodies and the juices they left with her, but she wouldn’t sleep with their filth. Sitting up, she took out a cigarette. Even after all this time she still had trouble going to sleep at dawn; it just didn’t seem right. How, she missed the days, the mornings. Growing up in the suburbs, she remembered a big old Magnolia tree in her front yard filled with birds. At dawn they would awaken and send out a chorus of greetings, to each other or to the sun; she didn’t know which, but it usually woke her with a smile. No birds here though she thought glumly, staring out the window into the darkness while she smoked the rest of her cigarette. Eventually the exertions of her night overwhelmed her and she began to feel the tug of sleep. She stubbed out the cigarette and curled down between the sheets. Her long hair pillowing beneath her cheek, as always, comforted her. Finally, she drifted off to sleep. What seemed like moments later, she awoke suddenly to a blur of movement in her room. Sensing it before seeing anything, she bolted upright in bed, coming quickly awake. All her senses, honed from years on the streets, were immediately alert. It was still dark in the room so it couldn’t have been too much later than when she’d fallen asleep, she reasoned. It felt like hours and her head was groggy. She rubbed her eyes and rose to a crouching position on her bed. She was sure she had seen someone dodge into the adjoining bathroom. “Who’s there?” She hissed, thinking it could be Arthur. He used to creep into her room in the mornings, but hadn’t since their deal. What was he up to? There was only silence in reply. Every sense warned Sean someone was in there. “I’ve got a gun, and I’ll fucking come in there and use it if you don’t come out,” she called more loudly and slowly stepped off the bed. Opening her dresser drawer she reached in and felt around underneath her underwear for the gun she kept for protection. There was a sudden rush of air from behind her and before she was able to locate the gun she turned to face the attack. Someone hurtled rapidly at her from the bathroom. In the second to spare before he was on her, there was only a blur of black clothing and a hooded face. Hit hard with the full weight of the assailant’s body, she was pushed roughly against the dresser. Sean remained dazed for only a second before she shrieked and began to fight, biting, scratching and kicking. The assailant seemed unfazed by her resistance and grabbed her forearms firmly, dodging the blows from her legs. Throwing her forcefully face down on the bed he quickly moved on top of her, wrapping a gloved hand around her mouth and pinning her with his large body. Unable to move then, Sean felt a chill of fear creep through her limbs when something clicked and cold metal was pressed to her temple. “Stop moving,” his voice whispered at her. Instantly she stilled, hoping that there might be time later to argue, as long as his intentions weren’t to blow her brains out on the spot. The way he pressed down against her body, she guessed his plan might be otherwise. “Good.” His voice was low. She could feel his growing erection against the cheeks of her bottom. “I want you to cooperate,” he said evenly, emphasizing the last word. “And you’ll be just fine.” He was talking quietly very close to her face and she could feel his breath on her skin. “Nod, if you promise not to scream and I’ll remove my hand.” She nodded feeling weary and sick, and an icy calmness clutched her insides. The attacker removed his hand and fumbled between them to produce a cord to try and tie her wrists. He found it impossible to grab both her wrists with one hand and tie the rope while holding the gun to her head. Sean heard him swear under his breath in frustration and her fear began to subside; he didn’t know what he was doing. Helplessly she giggled. No sooner had the sound escape her lips then a searing pain ripped through the back of her head. It was like someone had punched a hole in her skull. Pain erupted behind her eyes and blurred her vision and then she blacked out. * * * Sean came to with a muffled groan of pain and a heaving nausea in her guts. It was the world’s worst migraine she thought, and tried to force back the feeling that she was going to vomit. Vomiting with a taped mouth, she thought, would not be a good idea. The room was dim because the thick curtains were drawn against the daylight that had crept into the world behind it. The attacker had removed her T-shirt and panties; she was completely naked. Lying on her back, her arms were bent awkwardly underneath her and tied at the wrists. Gazing down she saw her legs were pulled and tied apart. Each ankle was bound with a long cord that disappeared over the foot of the bed, no doubt tied to its legs. Effectively immobilized she felt a growing chill and turned her head to look for her attacker. Pain radiated down the back of her head and tensed her neck. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to block it out. When she opened them again he was there, crouching on the floor by the bed. A black woolen ski mask covered his entire head except for his eyes and his mouth. He had taken off his black rain jacket to reveal a long sleeve black T-shirt and black jeans. She fixed him with an icy look and he stared back at her with light gray eyes. “I’m sorry I had to hit you,” he said quietly apologetic, as if he genuinely hadn’t meant to hurt her. “There was no other way.” His tone suggested he was embarrassed. Frowning, Sean wriggled uncomfortably and hoped his conciliatory tone meant that he might take pity on her. Her silent plea did not seem to get through to him though. He lifted her head in his hands, gently sweeping her long hair through his fingers and fanned it out on the pillow around her. Leaning over her, he sniffed it appreciatively. “So beautiful…” he murmured. Slipping down her body then, his eyes paused at her breasts and then at the mound of trimmed red hair between her legs. Raising his gloved hand he slid a finger gently over her chest and around the swell of her breast, the center of her abdomen, then lightly over the tuft of hair on her pubis. Sean shivered feeling angered by his touch and closed her eyes hoping that he would get on with it, get it over with and go. Hoping he wasn’t a psycho planning more than sex. His breath was suddenly on her face and before she knew it she felt him kiss each of her closed eyelids with gentle butterfly kisses. Surprised at the gentleness of the touch, her eyes flew open. No one had kissed her like that, not since she was a child. She stared at him and he regarded her with a soft look. “It doesn’t have to be horrible,” he whispered soothingly. What did he mean? Was he joking? Sean was incredulous. Like a man famished, he was suddenly all over her. Light kisses covered her face, her cheeks, and her nose. He nibbled an earlobe, breathing into her hair, sniffing her in deeply as if he couldn’t get enough of her smell. Kissing her chin, her jaw, her neck and her throat, he then leaned over her and lightly kissed a light pink nipple. Saliva was cool on the puckered flesh of her aureole; then his hot breath warmed it. Sucking the nipple between his lips, he rolled it gently with his tongue. Cupping her other breast he moved across to repeat the same process. The excitable flesh of the nipples contracted and stiffened under the ministrations of his tongue and breath. Sean the Great Sean felt surprised and relieved by the tenderness of his touches. It wasn’t brutal, so maybe she could endure. Cupping both breasts in his hands he looked up at her. “These are incredible,” he told her with a throaty catch in his voice. He was staring down at his gloved hands holding her breasts. “But, I gotta feel them properly,” he breathed as if talking to himself. Pulling off his gloves he revealed light-colored skin and square hands with blunt fingers. He ran his palms over her hardened nipples and she heard him sigh. Raising up to a standing position, he gazed at her outstretched body. She looked up at him trying not to feel the fear that was unraveling her insides, as she wondered what he was planning. His gun, she noticed, was on her dresser now. When he knelt on the bed and then moved to lie over her, still fully dressed, she almost breathed a sigh of relief. His face was close to hers and she could hear him breathing underneath the woolen hood. Most men had a distinct smell, cigarettes or booze, after-shave or soap powder from their clothes, but he was strangely odorless. “God, I want to take my clothes off and feel you naked underneath me,” he said and Sean blinked in surprise. What kind of rapist said things like this? “But, we have plenty of time, don’t we Sean, no one to disturb us?” Green eyes narrowing, Sean stared at him. He knew her name! Not even some of her regulars knew her name. He knew her and he must know that she slept undisturbed until late in the afternoon. Her mind worked furiously as she tried to fathom who he could be. Realizing he could be anyone, she felt sad and tired. What did it matter? Men used her all the time. She gave most of the money to another man who was supposed to protect her, but who beat her instead and let scum bags like this come in and rape her. The scumbag on top of her was creeping over her on hands and knees now, still absorbed in her body. Kissing her stomach and trailing his hands down her sides, moving lower. She squirmed and then he was between her legs, kneeling and taking her hips in his hands and leaning in to nuzzle between her thighs. With his fingers he parted the fine reddish hair that covered her and he pushed apart the fleshy lips of the labia, exposing the warm sensitive skin between the folds to his breath. Taking his time, he opened and probed her gently. His breath and fingertips against her most sensitive parts began to send involuntary shivers up her spine. She squirmed again and made a protesting noise from behind the tape. He ignored her and licked his finger and then pushed it gently against the pouting lips of her opening. “So many men have been in there, haven’t they Sean?” He looked up at her as he pushed the finger in gently up to the first joint. “But, I bet none have ever taken the time to really know your body, have they?” She glared at him and made another noise, but it was weaker this time. His slow, methodical approach was having some effect on her. Echoing in her head, his words had a ring of truth that she couldn’t deny. Who was he to lecture her, she thought suddenly, angrily. She didn’t need men to know her body; that didn’t matter. What mattered was that she could fake it so that they thought she was enjoying them and they could believe they were master lovers. If they even cared what she thought, that is. Most men were looking for release as quickly as possible, she thought cynically. She often wondered why they didn’t go masturbate; it would save them fifty bucks. The attacker had pushed his finger further in her and was moving it slowly in and out. When he withdrew it he licked it. “You taste so good. I knew you would. I want you to get nice and wet for me. Just relax and let me show you what it should be like for you.” Leaning into her he took a long lick of her soft, yielding flesh, pausing briefly over her clitoris. Licking, pressing, and licking again. Closing her eyes, Sean felt revolted and ashamed by her body’s reaction to his touch. His tongue on her was unfamiliar, she had rarely let anyone do that to her, and his tongue knew what it was doing. The muscles of her back and legs tensed as he flicked it over her in an unrelenting pattern. Squeezing her closed eyes, she demanded that her body cease to feel what he was doing to it. Despite her mind’s refusal, her body was becoming more and more aroused as he tongued her. His mouth was exciting her flesh in ways she had never experienced and she felt an unfamiliar whirling sensation begin to build between her thighs. She always faked orgasms. It made the men that wanted her to come feel like they had accomplished something. This one was intent on the real thing. Cracking open one eye she glanced down at the attacker between her legs. He was lathering her up with his tongue, oblivious to her internal conflict. Fiery waves radiated across her abdomen and thighs, her skin felt like it was burning up. Pausing he caught her eye and spoke. “Come for me now, come hard. Let me taste you on my tongue,” he urged her as his tongue continued its job. Sean moaned behind the tape over her mouth as he continued. He was concentrating on that hardening kernel of her clitoris. Taking some quick breaths, she let out a muffled sound as the sensations he was eliciting in her built to a crescendo. They released, tipping her over the edge into a long whorl of pleasure. The attacker lapped at her while she came and she shut her eyes as her body writhed and she felt confused and humiliated. As the afterglow of her climax eased all tension from her body, she melted and lay still on the bed. When she opened her eyes he was lying next to her, stretched out, a hand stroked her loins. The room was dim, but she could make out the lightness of his eyes on her, watching her. She felt acutely exposed and vulnerable. Her face was hot, her throat sore, it was difficult to swallow. There was a strange prickling behind her eyes. Unexpectedly she began to cry; it was a quiet shaking. She had not known gentleness like this and did not know what to do with it. The man who had just made her orgasm raised a hand and wiped the tears from her eyes as they fell. She looked at him and cried again. “Shhh, shhh.” He was saying over and over. “Go to sleep now.” Like a child, exhausted and trusting, she did. * * * A movement on the bed woke her. Head still pounding, her mouth felt dry and she had a hard time opening her eyes, glued together with sleep. Still tied to the bed with her hands bound behind her back, Sean stretched her aching shoulders. Numbed hands were like clubs on the ends of her arms. The attacker was on the bed beside her, propped up by an elbow, watching her. She wondered how long she had slept. “Hello, sleepy head,” he said softly. Noticing his arm moving, she looked down to see he had his dick in his hand and was rubbing it to a full erection as he watched her. Her stomach turned and she began to wriggle and cry out against the tape on her mouth. Quickly he moved over her again, fixing her with his blue-gray eyes. “Sshhh,” he hushed her, tracing the contours of her fine features. “It will be okay. I need you. I want to be in you, okay?” Shaking her head angrily, she wanted to scream at him: No! It was not okay. She may sell her body for money but it was not okay to rape her. The tender moment they had shared as he made her orgasm floated away. His eyes looked sad for a moment. “Don’t you want me? I’ve been so nice to you. It will be so nice for you too. I can make it really good.” She glared at him and shook her head struggling now against the cords that bound her up. “Quiet down,” he hissed as he fought her and pressed against her struggling body. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” She was screaming against the tape now, making a horrible, rasping, grunting sound. The attacker moved her thighs apart with one hand and felt between her legs, testing to see if she was wet enough to take him. He licked a finger and pushed it into her briefly. Grasping his erection with his other hand, he guided it toward her entrance. Bucking, she tried to resist him and he pushed her shoulder down hard, bracing himself as he pushed his cock against her opening. Thrusting with his hips, his cock sought entrance invading her passage. She made a high pitched moaning sound when his cock pushed into her and his body pressed forward over her as he thrust deeply. His member filled her, pushing against her surrounding pussy flesh. “You feel so good around me. So tight, so wet…” he spoke slowly, evenly spacing the words out as if it was difficult to put them together. “I wish you could tell me what my cock feels like buried in your pussy.” Fully clothed, he pressed hard against her skin as he drove steadily into her. He tried to make eye contact but she resolutely refused, looking away every time. He took her chin and tried to force her to look at him as he moved in her. She closed her eyes. He sighed and contented himself with kissing and licking her neck as he thrust himself in her. After awhile he eased up and pulled out. Kneeling between her legs he took her hips in his hands, raising her pelvis. With a display of strength he pulled her onto his still hard rod. She went as limp as she could and he had to support her weight as he pulled her hips back and forward so that she was massaging his stick, impaled on his cock. She could hear him breathing harder and his eyes were closed, head tipped slightly back, engrossed in the feelings surrounding his cock. Dropping her hips he fell back over her. Wrapping his arms around her body, he started to drive himself harder and harder into her, his hips jamming roughly against hers. Grinding hard against her pussy flesh and swollen clitoris, unexpectedly she could feel her body responding. She gritted her teeth, feeling her skin flush, her insides warm. As his pace continued, her flesh defied her resistance; she was becoming wetter now, juices releasing as naturally as they should, helping him piston smoothly into her. Breathing hard against her neck he was feeling the immediacy of his own release. Raising his head he caught her eye as he paused and jerked himself as high inside her as he could go. “Sean! Fuck! I’m coming in you…Oh… uh…uh,” he cried out as his cock strained to pump its seed into her. Spent and satiated he collapsed letting her take his entire weight. He lay over her, breathing rapidly, his cock still inside her growing flaccid, his warm juices beginning to drip out sliding down her inner thighs. Sean thought he had gone to sleep on top of her and she wiggled uncomfortably. Her arms pinned behind her couldn’t take his weight and sharp, searing pain flared across her shoulder blades. She made a weak protesting sound and he raised his head slowly to look at her at last. “Promise not to scream and I’ll take the tape off,” he told her. She nodded hopefully and he pulled off the tape with a quick, painful tear. “Please get the fuck off me,” she said with a calmness that surprised her. Staring at her mouth, he didn’t move but lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers. When she didn’t respond, he opened his mouth, flicking her lips lightly with his tongue. “Kiss me,” he demanded, talking quietly against her unresponsive mouth. “No,” she said. “Please get off…” The pain in her shoulder blades was intensifying. She squirmed again trying to ease the tension. This time he noticed and looked at her closely. “Are you okay?” he whispered with concern. She shook her head. “No, it’s my shoulders,” she said softly, wincing from the pain. He frowned and pulled out of her. Rolling her onto her side he reached behind and undid the cords that bound her wrists, throwing them on the floor. Painfully, she rolled her shoulder blades and rubbed each of her wrists, trying to get feeling back into her hands. He picked up each hand and kissed her fingers gently and rubbed the stiffness from her wrists. “There, there, I’m sorry you were hurting,” he said to her like she was a child. He lay over her, entwining his fingers in hers, effectively capturing her arms again. “Now kiss me. Please?” “Fuck you. You don’t say please when you’re going to do it anyway,” Sean said quietly, the anger evident in her tone. “You ungrateful bitch,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing. “Ungrateful?” she hissed. “Ungrateful!” She laughed at him. “You think I should be grateful to you, you fucking rapist?” “Shut up.” He said softly, his face close to hers. His words were angry but his tone was quiet and pleasant. “Shut the fuck up Sean. I could’ve made this so much worse for you, but I’ve made it pleasant, gentle. It’s better sex than you’ve ever had. Now kiss me and tell me you want me again.” She stared at him in amazement. “Don’t look that way at me. I could tell you wanted to come again while I was inside you. I could feel you getting all aroused.” He moved his hips and his cock moved against her thigh, she could feel it struggling back to life as he talked to her. “You want to come again don’t you? I can tell. Your body is aching for it.” Maneuvering himself back into her, his cock filled out, pressing against the sensitive flesh of her pussy. The way he was rocking his hips against her was stimulating her clit and she took a ragged breath feeling a physical response that she wasn’t ready to admit. Her face felt flushed and she looked away from him, not wanting him to read her confusion as she felt her body becoming aroused again. “Sean, just let it go. Enjoy this. I won’t hurt you. I want to enjoy you.” He was whispering against the skin of her neck and he licked up her neck and underneath her ear and her skin seemed to shiver over her body. No one had ever spoken like this to her. No one had ever been interested in her feelings, in her body. It was her tool to use to pleasure the men she did business with. It had been abused one time too many and at times she resented its weakness. Inside she was tough, but her body was soft and weak, the one vulnerable point and she constantly distanced herself from it. He was breathing in her ear again and her lips parted as she drew in breath and closed her eyes feeling the sensations that he was provoking in her “Put your arms around me,” he whispered and she did. Rocking into her slowly, his cock grew bigger and harder. Moving in such a way he worked to stimulate her clitoris with his pelvic bone, softly and persistently. Strange warmth grew from that place and flowed gently through her pelvis and up over her navel and abdomen. Closing her eyes, she felt insubstantial, like liquid, and was only distantly aware that she had started to move, involuntarily, underneath him. Lips sliding over hers, he collected her in his arms and continued rocking gently inside her and against her, concentrating on promoting her pleasure. Her mouth quivered underneath his and remained firm and resistant until his tongue pushed between them and explored her mouth, touching her tongue. Reluctantly she found herself kissing him back. The taste and smell of him blending into a distant center of sensation that was growing in intensity and sweeping aside her resistance. Defeating the cold, hard defenses she had built up against the sex act throughout the years. She almost forgot that it was rape. Something that was this gentle and felt this good couldn’t be rape she thought distantly, distortedly, in her mind. “Sean. I want you to come for me now. Come around my cock, let me feel you grip me,” he whispered close into her ear, his voice sending a shiver down her neck. Easing off her slightly, he reached between their bodies searching for and finding the heightened center of her pleasure. Pushed against her clit, he rolled it around gently with a finger. Sean’s eyes opened wide with the intensity of feeling his fingers touching her already aroused clit. Thrumming that nodule slowly and gently, always increasing the pace as he pushed inside her at the same time. As if through a long tunnel she could hear the moaning, gasping sound of a woman as she began to climax. As she cried out, she pushed her mouth into his shoulder. Biting down on the fabric of his shirt as her feelings collected and prepared to unravel her. Rubbing her more vigorously he withdrew his fingers and jerked his hips several times against her and Sean screwed her eyes closed and, “God, oh God,” she shuddered and cried into his shoulder as she came, pushing her hips against his spasmodically. Sensations of orgasm ran throughout her body and she collapsed, feeling drained and empty. Lying back against her bed, she stared past him at the ceiling, not thinking, just feeling the last remnants of the orgasm drift around her like fluttering tassels. The man on top of her had paused while she came, but now he started to move again, desperately seeking another release. Languidly she moved her hips in time with his, as if it was second nature. After only a little longer he gasped and came a second time. In the haze of orgasm neither heard the keys rattling in the door until it was too late. Suddenly it was open and there was Arthur, dominating the doorway with his bulk. His eyes went very wide and his mouth fell open slightly. Astonishment was written all over his face as he took in the sight before him in an instant. Sean and the attacker, still buried in her, turned their heads simultaneously in surprise. “What the fuck is going on here?” Arthur yelled, recovering quickly and stepping in, slamming the door behind him. Flinging a huge set of keys to the floor he stormed across the room in a rage. The attacker realized his peril in an instant and with a desperate agility pulled away from Sean and scrambled for the window and the fire escape. Arthur, despite his size, was too fast. He lunged with a roar of anger toward the attacker. Grabbing the fleeing man’s arm, Arthur yanked him back from the window and threw him with tremendous force against the wall. The attacker crumpled to the floor in a daze. Arthur stood aggressively over him, itching to have him get up so he could knock him down again. The man on the floor cowered and instead, Arthur kicked him repeatedly in the side, his boot connecting with a dull, sickening sound. The man’s breath went out of him and he cried out in agony. Arthur then turned to Sean with a look of unchecked wrath. “What the fuck are you doing? Who is this?” Sean sat up hurriedly feeling her emotions whirling unchecked, not knowing where to begin. Not waiting for her reply, Arthur turned back to the man curled up in a fetal position against the wall and ripped off the ski mask. Sean stared. The attacker coughed and moaned with pain and looked away. He was familiar, she realized, wracking her brain to come up with how she knew him. Light skin, strong jaw, and crew-cut hair, good-looking in a jock kind of way. Then she recognized him. The bartender! She stared at him in astonishment. The bartender who had given her a free drink. “Do you know this fuck?” Arthur roared, grabbing the bartender’s shirt and hauling him up against the wall. Raising his fist, Arthur prepared to hit him and Sean thought quickly. If she said she knew him then she would no doubt raise Arthur’s ire and bear the brunt of his fury too, so she shook her head. Arthur jerked the bartender forward and then pounded him back so that the man’s head thudded heavily against the wall. “Who the fuck are you, and what the fuck were you doing with one of my girls?” Arthur snarled at him. “I – uh – I was…“ The bartender was shaking his head pitifully, staring at Arthur with fear in his eyes. Arthur’s lip curled in a sneer. He raised his gnarled, heavily knuckled fist and slammed it into the bartender’s face. The bartender went out like a light. Arthur let him go and he slid down the wall. Turning back to Sean, Arthur noticed finally that she was tied to the bed. He glared down at her as she struggled to sit up. Sean the Great “Is this some kind of party Seanie?” He smirked. “You like being tied up?” She looked at him miserably. “No.” “How’d he get in?” Arthur asked suspiciously. “I don’t know,” she replied feeling bewildered by the events of the morning and as usual, tongue-tied around this beast that she both hated and feared. Arthur couldn’t hide the lust in his eyes as they roamed over her naked body. It had been a long time since he’d touched her and he loved the smooth, slim lines of her, and those pert, round breasts. Sean felt him gobbling her up with his gaze. She folded her arms protectively around her chest, feeling a greater fear than when the bartender, a complete stranger, had attacked her. “You don’t know?” Taunted Arthur, not believing her. “What? You think you can get a little more behind my back, bitch?” His face was close to hers and she could smell his fetid breath. “Fuck you Arthur. I didn’t let him in,” she hissed at him angrily. “Bullshit,” he yelled. “Lying bitch.” He raised his hand and backhanded her hard across the mouth. It sent her sprawling back on the bed. Her lip split against her teeth and she could taste blood. Spinning around, Arthur yanked the unconscious man from the floor, dragging him over to a chair on the other side of the room. Sean watched him tie the bartender’s wrists to each arm of the chair with the rope that had bound her wrists. Feeling strangely concerned, she realized she was worried about what was going to happen to the bartender. Arthur was so unpredictable and sadistic; the gentle bartender had no chance. That gentle bartender hit me with the butt of a gun and raped me, she reminded herself sternly. Sitting up, she wiped the corner of her mouth where blood had trickled and she bent to untie the cords around her ankles. Arthur saw what she was doing and snarled at her. “Don’t move a muscle. Our deal is off.” Sean froze and stared at him. His big, brutish face leered at her. “Yeah, you heard me right. I’ve had enough of your bullshit.” Finished with securing the bartender he strode back over to the bed. He grabbed her arm and forced her onto her back again. “No, don’t Arty! Please…I didn’t do anything.” Sobbing with anger, fear and frustration, she struggled and pushed at him as he moved over her on the bed. Ruthlessly, he slapped her hard across the face again. Her head buzzed from the blow, the side of her face going numb. “It’s been too long Sean,” he growled and wrestled both arms over her head, gripping her wrists with one hand. “You’ve grown up now Seanie, not the scrawny little kid I knew all those years ago. ” The fingers of his other hand were free to roam over her throat and chest and he pinched a nipple between his thumb and forefinger till she squealed in protest. Leaning in, he sucked on each nipple in turn. Sitting astride her torso preventing any movement, he released her arms so he could unzip his pants. Producing his cock, he stroked it to attention, squeezing it and passing his thumb over the huge, glistening reddened head. He grabbed at her flailing fists and bent her arms back, leaning over her until his nose was only an inch from hers. “Yeah, Sean. Just keep hitting me and you know what you’ll get!” He threatened. She glared at him but stilled, petrified, knowing his threats were serious. Moving down, he shoved her thighs apart and grasped her butt in his big, roughened hands. Angling his cock toward her still wet pussy, he slipped it into her. Without pause he proceeded to thrust violently, grunting loudly. Each jarring movement caused her breasts to jiggle and she shut her eyes. “Just like old times, aye Sean?” he said quietly and pulled out of her, raised her hips slightly, and pushed up against her anal passage. Without ceremony he pushed against the unrelenting sphincter until with some effort he forced himself inside her and kept on going, ramming his cock deeply into her. Sucking in his breath he gripped her hips and thighs and drove roughly and frantically into her tight passage. Sean gritted her teeth as she dealt with the pain of his forced anal entry. Tears squeezed from her shuttered eyes. She felt cold and distant all over as Arthur continued to please himself in her body. * * * David flinched as he regained consciousness. As he raised his head he felt a throbbing ache in his side where the pimp had kicked him and he was sure the searing pain in his face had to be a broken nose. Even short breaths were too painful because of the pain. This hadn’t been in the game plan, David thought. Arthur was supposed to be long gone; he’d checked it all out. Arthur always went to play craps at a local hall in the next county on Sundays and he stayed out there till late Monday. As the room swam into focus he could see Arthur on the bed with Sean. The pimp was fucking her. Arthur was kneeling between her legs. He’d raised her bottom off the bed and grasped her hips and thighs, gasping as he thrust himself into her. His face was a contortion of pleasure as he used Sean’s body to please himself. Oblivious to David watching them, he remained intent on the business at hand. He was whispering obscenely at her. “Oh, yeah, baby. You fuck me so good. Haven’t you missed this monster in your fine ass?” Sean’s face was turned away from the pimp, her eyes closed, a small frown and an ugly red mark on her face where he’d hit her. Her slender, creamy body was shaking with every cruel thrust. David felt slow curls of anger ignite in his solar plexus and at that moment he knew he could kill. His wrists had been tied tightly to the arms of the chair and he fought against them helplessly. When he’d conceived of his plan to visit Sean he had wanted it to be a seduction, not brutal and violent like he saw it was with the pimp. He thought he could calm her down like she was some kind of frisky wild thing, break her in, and train her to appreciate herself and her body. He wanted to see her hardness melt. He knew that rape was about power, power over a woman but he didn’t want power over Sean, he told himself. He wanted to please her, wanted to have her enjoy herself. When he had hit her, lost his temper when she’d laughed at him, he thought it was all over. She had clung to him, though, desperately, as he taught her body to experience pleasure. She had cried with relief at the intensity he had provoked in her. Now he couldn’t bear to watch this monster doing this to her. Arthur was jerking himself over Sean’s prostrate form; twitching with effort, his face screwed up as he began to come. “Oh yeah. Fuck me baby. It’s coming! Ohhh yeaaahhh!” He let out a loud grunting sound and dropped her legs as he shot his load in her. Sean regarded Arthur with a coldly furious expression as he pulled out of her and put his limp cock away. When he dropped forward to try and kiss her, Sean shrieked at him in protest and spat in his face. Wiping her spittle away with the back of his hand, he eyed her dangerously, and then he slapped her. It was a harsh, sickening sound to David’s ears. “You filthy, ungrateful bitch!” Arthur screamed at her. A button had been flipped and Arthur had gone blank with fury, he pounded her with his fists and Sean flailed with her arms to protect her head. He landed a glancing blow to her cheek and then the bridge of her nose and she went limp, but it didn’t stop him. David went cold when he heard Arthur screech those words to her, “Ungrateful bitch!” The same words he had used. The beating Arthur was giving Sean shook him back to his senses. He couldn’t take it anymore. “Stop it, you fucking son of a bitch!” His voice sounded hoarse and ludicrously weak to his ears. Arthur paused in his assault and turned his livid eyes to David. He got off the bed and rose threateningly. His huge bulk was daunting as he staggered over, breathing hard. “What did you say you little shit?” “I said lay off her,” David screamed hoarsely, hearing his pulse pounding in his ears. Arthur laughed cruelly. “You’re in no position to mess with me. You’re lucky you got your dick back in your pants. I should tear it off.” David paled. “You’re a fucking monster. She doesn’t need you.” He tossed back bravely. “And what? She needs you?” Arthur sneered. “Is that why you had to tie her up, because she needs you so badly? You fucking little pervert.” David felt heat rush to his face and his temper fray. “At least she looked at me and kissed me when we did it!” Arthur merely raised an eyebrow at that and turned away as if he was not even going to dignify David with a response. David took a quick breath of relief; maybe he’d struck a nerve. Suddenly, Arthur twisted back around, took a step forward, nonchalantly laying a hand on David’s shoulder, and then punched him heavily in the stomach. David doubled over in the chair, winded and gasping for air. While he was down Arthur rounded up another punch, an upper cut to the jaw. It flung David’s head back and there was a sickening crack as his jaw broke and he blacked out again. * * * When Arthur turned back from beating the bartender, Sean was ready for him. Learning from past experience, Sean had only faked unconsciousness. As soon as Arthur’s back was turned she had groped for the bartender’s handgun from the top of her dresser. Still tied to the bed by her ankles, she sat with the gun aimed directly at Arthur. Blood dripped from a cut that he had inflicted above her eye, but she ignored it. Arthur stilled and then laughed at her. “What, are you going to do with that?” Sean stared at him expressionless and flicked her long red hair behind a slender shoulder. Her arm was surprisingly steady as she held the gun pointed at him, her finger twitched on the trigger. “What? Are you going to murder me?” Arthur spat contemptuously, but she did not waver. “Who’s going to put the bread and butter on your table, baby? Who’s going to keep this roof over your head?” His lip curled in a nasty snarl, but his laughter faded. Sean was in turmoil as she stared at the big man in front of her. What did she owe him? He had abused her one time too many. She didn’t need him, she thought resolutely. Another voice competed for her decision, a smaller voice that pleaded with her. Where would she go? What could she do? The little voice asked because it was too afraid to be alone. Maybe we could go home? It suggested. Home? Sean laughed at that notion. Abandoned long ago by her parents, her father to alcohol and her mother to other men, there was no one to help her. All right, she thought, her mind suddenly brilliantly clear, I have to help myself. Leveling the gun at Arthur, her finger flickered over the trigger. She watched as his face fell, and laughed inwardly at his expression. Pausing again, she wondered if she could actually shoot him and her resolve faltered. Maybe she could just wound him and then run? No, she thought, he would come after her and take his revenge. She knew she could not run far enough to escape; his pursuit would be tireless. How could she start again having killed a man, the little voice reasoned with her. Thelma and Louise, baby, she thought and shut that voice down for good; a long drive off a big cliff. “Come on Sean. Give me the gun, sweet heart. We can work this out,” Arthur’s voice had transformed into a thin, high-pitched whine. Sean sighed. She didn’t have a Thunderbird, she didn’t have a Louise to go with her and she didn’t really want to die. Glancing across at the bartender who was still passed out unconscious in the chair, an idea struck her. Arthur’s hand was outstretched toward her, appealing to her now. Squinting at him, Sean recalled every beating she had received at his hands and every forced sexual encounter. With her mind made up, she squeezed the trigger. There was a resounding bang as the gun exploded and her arm recoiled. In the next moment she watched Arthur’s large frame crumple and fall back to the floor. His hand clutched at his chest where a patch of red was spreading through his shirt. Arthur coughed and stared at her in surprise. Collapsing on the floor, the blood seeped from the mortal wound she’d inflicted on him. The shaking started then and a chill spread throughout Sean’s body. The shot would bring the police, even in this shit area. Placing the gun back on the dresser, she hurriedly pulled out the warmest clothes she had and dressed. In the bathroom, she wiped off some of the blood on her face and caught her reflection in the mirror. A sorry sight; she looked quickly away. There was no time to shower, although she would give her right arm for one. Throwing most of her belongings into a knapsack she surveyed her room. Arthur was lying on the floor in a growing pool of blood. She couldn’t bear to look at him and fixed the bartender with a resigned gaze. His face was swollen and blood dripped from a corner of his mouth. Briefly she played out in her mind what he had done to her, wondering at his motivations. The feelings she had experienced with him at the end were vivid in her mind. No one had made her feel that way; feel that her pleasure mattered, feel like she mattered. It didn’t change what he had done though, she reasoned. There should be a price for his actions. The bartender seemed to be stirring. He moaned but did not wake up. Now that she was dressed and ready to go, she hesitated again and bit her lip. Come on Sean, there’s nothing for you in this hellhole, she told herself. Picking up the gun again, she wiped it vigorously with her T-shirt and carried it over to the bartender, careful not to touch it herself. Placing the gun in his right hand, she squeezed his fingers around it so that his prints would be evident. Cautiously, she untied his wrists and lay his right hand with the gun in his lap. She remembered to pick up all the cord lying around and the ski mask and stuff it in her bag. Finally, she pulled on her red overcoat and a hat to cover her head and shadow the bruises on her face. Picking up her small bag of belongings, she surveyed the scene in her apartment. Jealous admirer comes seeking revenge on evil pimp. Girl runs. A story the police would buy in an instant, she decided. “Goodbye Arthur the Prick. Goodbye bartender,” she whispered and left the room without looking back. Sean hurried down two flights of stairs, grateful that she didn’t meet anyone on her way to the ground floor. Neighbors in her community knew better than to stick their noses in when there were sounds of violence. It was mid-morning, bleak and windy when she stepped out on the pavement. The neighborhood was virtually deserted. In the distance she thought she could hear sirens and she hurried down the street. Turning the corner into an ally, she picked up the pace. Proudly she looked down at her feet as they carried her away from her old life. Her red coat flapped around her thighs and she grinned to herself imagining it to be a cape, a superman cape. Fuck Thelma and Louise she thought to herself, I’m Sean the Great, Super hero at large.