Post by slashmaster on Jul 25, 2006 14:08:15 GMT -8
This is from a story on fictionpress that I'm writing. I'm overly sensitive about majorly emotional scenes, and I'm not good at them, so have a look at this and tell me if it's any good BEFORE I post it on fictionpress and get beat to death with the dunce stick.
-- Thanks, love
I decided I liked Barry after a week or so; he visited the most, and actually looked at me with a light that only came when you look at another human being, and the rest of the hookers here viewed me only for what I was – a virgin. And suddenly I hated being a virgin, hated myself for being so stupid and holding onto it and trying to “save†it for someone special, and there never would be someone special, now. Now it would be wasted along with all of my dreams and work.
Everything.
Once while Gina was visiting I burst into tears again, and she held me, but she couldn’t quite comfort me like Ace could. Her breasts were too little and her wrist bracelets rubbed against the skin on my neck and I didn’t like the feeling of crying onto skin. I could feel her heartbeat – not just hear it, feel it – and yet I let her held me because she was the only real friend I had.
Ace wasn’t my friend and he had never been my friend.
But even with two people trying to keep a close eye on me, it seemed Jerome could not resist the smell of the untouched. And that’s when things really did come crashing down around my ears.
It had been a normal day, except that Gina had taken the time to make me grilled cheese, and I sat nibbling it because I wanted to savor the taste, and I remember that I had the crust to finish off before he came in. The glass of milk on the bedside stand was empty, but I still licked the rim of it to take up the last of the flavor. I had made peace with my situation, at last, and Ace had stopped worrying about it every time he came in. He returned to his usual saucy, asshole-y self, and I liked him better that way.
It was around noon. Gina was asleep, I think, and Barry and Ace – my only anchors – were out doing whatever it is they do in the daytime. I had fallen into a light doze, and the creak of the door hinges woke me. I only had a moment, maybe, or two, before the pillow came down over my face. All I could really think of was, ‘hey, a pillow’ because I’d been sleeping on dirty clothes for God knows how long, but then I realized that the pillow wasn’t for me, and the weight on my stomach was not from the grilled cheese.
“If you scream I’ll kill you.â€
That was all that I really heard out of him, but I knew he said more. He took the pillow off my face and took one of the shirts from the pile behind my head. He was straddling my stomach, heavy – not just heavy, fucking huge; I think he may have been a club bouncer once, before he got drunk and socked some guy for looking at him funny. He tore that shirt he was holding to strips, and I like to pretend that the shirt was like my body, and he was demonstrating just what he could do to me if I screamed…
I wasn’t dressed in much. A pair of underwear (not mine, but I didn’t like to think about that much) and some socks and a loose T-shirt, which he pulled over my head and threw away, anywhere away, again showing me what he could do… just what he could do to me…
I couldn’t feel my feet. He was so heavy…
He took the shirt strips and tied my hands behind my back. My arms ached afterwards, I remember that, and that my wrists had little red welts in them for most of the day. I remember that he smiled at me and said something about kitties and claws, and I almost screamed then, but I bit it back and whimpered instead. That noise was enough, and he stuffed a few more shirt scraps into my mouth, and they tasted awful, like something tangy and bitter and whatever else, and I gagged on it once or twice but he didn’t take it out. And then he had my underwear… Jesus. Down around my ankles, and I tried to draw my knees up to protect myself but he was there on my waist and I couldn’t feel my feet.
His jeans button. He was looking right at me, and I shook my head, biting down so hard on that shirt scrap in my mouth, begging him without words, please, please don’t hurt me… But he was nodding and smiling and he undid that button and he did hurt me.
He hurt me.
-- That's all, folks.
-- Thanks, love
I decided I liked Barry after a week or so; he visited the most, and actually looked at me with a light that only came when you look at another human being, and the rest of the hookers here viewed me only for what I was – a virgin. And suddenly I hated being a virgin, hated myself for being so stupid and holding onto it and trying to “save†it for someone special, and there never would be someone special, now. Now it would be wasted along with all of my dreams and work.
Everything.
Once while Gina was visiting I burst into tears again, and she held me, but she couldn’t quite comfort me like Ace could. Her breasts were too little and her wrist bracelets rubbed against the skin on my neck and I didn’t like the feeling of crying onto skin. I could feel her heartbeat – not just hear it, feel it – and yet I let her held me because she was the only real friend I had.
Ace wasn’t my friend and he had never been my friend.
But even with two people trying to keep a close eye on me, it seemed Jerome could not resist the smell of the untouched. And that’s when things really did come crashing down around my ears.
It had been a normal day, except that Gina had taken the time to make me grilled cheese, and I sat nibbling it because I wanted to savor the taste, and I remember that I had the crust to finish off before he came in. The glass of milk on the bedside stand was empty, but I still licked the rim of it to take up the last of the flavor. I had made peace with my situation, at last, and Ace had stopped worrying about it every time he came in. He returned to his usual saucy, asshole-y self, and I liked him better that way.
It was around noon. Gina was asleep, I think, and Barry and Ace – my only anchors – were out doing whatever it is they do in the daytime. I had fallen into a light doze, and the creak of the door hinges woke me. I only had a moment, maybe, or two, before the pillow came down over my face. All I could really think of was, ‘hey, a pillow’ because I’d been sleeping on dirty clothes for God knows how long, but then I realized that the pillow wasn’t for me, and the weight on my stomach was not from the grilled cheese.
“If you scream I’ll kill you.â€
That was all that I really heard out of him, but I knew he said more. He took the pillow off my face and took one of the shirts from the pile behind my head. He was straddling my stomach, heavy – not just heavy, fucking huge; I think he may have been a club bouncer once, before he got drunk and socked some guy for looking at him funny. He tore that shirt he was holding to strips, and I like to pretend that the shirt was like my body, and he was demonstrating just what he could do to me if I screamed…
I wasn’t dressed in much. A pair of underwear (not mine, but I didn’t like to think about that much) and some socks and a loose T-shirt, which he pulled over my head and threw away, anywhere away, again showing me what he could do… just what he could do to me…
I couldn’t feel my feet. He was so heavy…
He took the shirt strips and tied my hands behind my back. My arms ached afterwards, I remember that, and that my wrists had little red welts in them for most of the day. I remember that he smiled at me and said something about kitties and claws, and I almost screamed then, but I bit it back and whimpered instead. That noise was enough, and he stuffed a few more shirt scraps into my mouth, and they tasted awful, like something tangy and bitter and whatever else, and I gagged on it once or twice but he didn’t take it out. And then he had my underwear… Jesus. Down around my ankles, and I tried to draw my knees up to protect myself but he was there on my waist and I couldn’t feel my feet.
His jeans button. He was looking right at me, and I shook my head, biting down so hard on that shirt scrap in my mouth, begging him without words, please, please don’t hurt me… But he was nodding and smiling and he undid that button and he did hurt me.
He hurt me.
-- That's all, folks.
