Teaser: Why don't women get vengeance? Why is it always men? Why did Carl get to go on with his life without any consequences? She needed him to be taught a lesson. She needed to make him see what he had done. To make him recognise the fact of his abuse and know that she was not his victim anymore.
She spent two years of planning and fantasising about this moment, she was not going to let it all fall apart now. .
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.
The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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Index:
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Title: A Cold Dish
Author: Malady
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A Cold Dish
Property
Ella gripped the gun-like plastic handle of the Taser in her hand, taking a little reassurance from just having it in her pocket. She stood beneath a 'For Sale' sign to a detached mid century house that stood at the end of a short drive about 50 meters away. The brochure described it as 'a spacious home, with period features and significant potential for a contemporary refurbishment'. She understood this to mean it hadn't been decorated since it was built. She didn't care what it was like, other than it fitted the criteria of being detached, with a fair sized gap between it and the neighboring houses.
It was a hot day and she was over dressed in her knee length coat and wide brimmed hat. She had bleached her hair, and the large dark glasses completed her efforts to avoid innitial recognition.
She was a medium figure, 5'6 and a little over weight, with large brown eyes and a naturally kind face. She had always been a little chubby, which she had struggled with before, but now she was comfortable with who she was, and was learning to love herself for that.
Carl Brookes, arsehole, abusive ex, and estate agent, arrived 10 minutes late. He hadn't changed. Tall and athletic, with short cropped black hair and olive skin. He was dressed in a suit and tie, and smiling his confident breezy public smile as he introduced himself and offered his hand.
Ella ignored it and made a show of looking at her watch as she turned and walked towards the house. She hoped this gave the impression of being a busy women who was a little annoyed at being left waiting. The truth was she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. Her heart was pounding and she was filled with the urge to run, to quit already. She steeled herself to go through with this. He was not going to win.
It was seven years since she had seen him last. Seven years of turmoil and healing, self help, rehab, and therapy. She had never wanted to see him again. In fact for many years the very thought of seeing him had triggered feelings of panic and nausea. But that changed about 2 years ago, watching some trashy action film of one man's vengeance. It had been a light bulb moment. Why don't women get vengeance? Why is it always men? Why did Carl get to go on with his life without any consequences? She needed him to be taught a lesson. She needed to make him see what he had done. To make him recognise the fact of his abuse and know that she was not his victim anymore.
She spent two years of planning and fantasising about this moment, she was not going to let it all fall apart now.
She took a deep breath as he unlocked the front door and followed him inside. The house smell of both new and old, the smell of fresh paint mixed with the musty barren odour of an old floorboards that had only recently seen the light of day. No furniture, no carpet, nothing to dampen the sound of the footseps on the bare wooden floor. The front had door opened into a modest hallway with a flight of stairs ahead of them running up the left hand wall. To the right of the stairs, a corridor ran straight through to a kitchen at the back of the house. There were two doorways on the right hand wall leeding to what would presumably be the lounge and dining room.
Ella walked past the first doorway and stepped through the second as Carl began a speal about the house and its space and character. She wasn't listening, she was willing herself on to see this through.
She crossed the bare room and turned to stand with her back to the far wall, facing him as he entered, so arrogant in his suit and tie and fake smile. He was so good at playing the good man, everybody thought he was charming and wonderful. But she knew what he was like behind closed doors.
She hated him.
She hated everything about him.
He seemed a little taken aback that she hadn't remained in the hallway to hang on every word of his estate agent bullshit.
"Perhaps you have some questions?" He said, trying a different tack.
Her heart seemed to slow as she realised she was ready. This was it. Time for Carl Brookes to learn a lesson.
With one hand in her coat pocket, she used the other to remove her hat and let it drop to the floor. Her bleach blonde hair spilled out over her shoulders. Looking straight at him, she took off the sunglasses, sending them to join the hat with an oversized clatter against the bare boards.
Then, for the longest moment, there was a silence . He stood with his mouth slightly open looming her up and down, a an expression of puzzlement changed to recognitiion. He smiled. Nolonger the warm friendly salesman smile. A smile she knew too well. Smug and knowing, as if he had just been proven right in some cunning game.
"Ella?"
"Hello Carl"
He took a step towards her.
"Stay there!" She blurted. "Don't come any closer".
He stopped, his eyes meeting hers.
"What's this about Ella?"
She held his gaze. She was not the broken victim anymore. She was stronger now, nolonger scared of him. Nolonger wilting under his inspection.
"This is about closure, Carl." She said, her voice firm and calm. "This is about me telling you that what you did to me was wrong." They weren't the words she had practiced so many times. But that didn't matter, she thought. They were her words, and with each one she felt stronger and more alive than she had felt in a very long time.
"This is about you having the chance to say sorry, which is more than you fucking deserve."
He open his mouth to speak.
"No! Not yet. I will tell you when you can speak."
"Ella, baby"
He spread his hands, palm open.
"No! Right now you will listen. I am not your baby, or your doll. I am not a toy or a piece of meat, Carl. We are not just objects to own and humiliate for your fucked up sexual fantasies. I am a person. A woman. And you will treat me with respect."
She paused. Drinking in the moment.
"I nearly killed myself because of you. Because of what you did to me. You made me think I was worthless Carl. You made me think that nobody else wanted me. That I was not worthy of love. But it wasn't true. What you did to me was wrong Carl! Do you see that? Can you understand that?"
Her question hung in the room.
"Have you finished?" He said.
His smile was gone, replaced by a cold dark look ‐ the look he gave her when she had dared to do something he didn't like. But this time she was ready for it. This time she wasn't scared of it.
"No Carl, I am not finished" she gripped the tazer tighter in her pocket. "If you have something to say, say it. But unless it starts with the word sorry, don't fucking bother."
He didn't reply. Instead he took a step forward. Then another. With a third step he was halfway across the room.
"Don't come any closer!" She said it firmly, she knew this was a make or break moment and she was ready for it. She almost wanted him to keep coming so she could use it. So she could hurt him. No where near what he did to her, but just enough to feel what it was like.
He stopped, standing in the middle of the room and looking at her.
Then he took another step.
And other.
He was arms length from her now and all she had to do was pull her hand from her pocket and fire the twin barbs that would rob him of all muscular control. Once fired the Taser became a stun gun, dispensing high voltage shock on contact. She had imagined it so many times, imagined watching him convulse. Imagined the look on his face as he trully realised he wasn't in control any more.
But she couldn't move. Her arm was fixed. Her whole body frozen
The back of his right hand hit the right side of her face with enough force to send her realing backwards, the side of her head exploding in pain as she fell against the wall behind her. Then he was upon her, hand gripping her throat, his body pressing to her, pinning her against the wall as he pushed his face to the side of hers.
"You've got some fucking nerve, Ella!"
His hand squeezed her throat, choking her fully for a moment before relaxing.
"You think you can just disapear, treat me like I never existed, then just ambush me at work with this bullshit?!"
He forced his right leg between hers, and squeezed his hand again, feeling her choke and struggle for breath before loosening his grip once more.
"But thats not why you're really here, is it? We both know why you're really here."
He lifted his knee suddenly, driving it hard against her sex, lifting her from her feet and forcing a cry of pain from her lips.
"You're here because you are mine." He laughed, his cruel mocking laugh. "It doesn't matter how far you go, or how long you stay away, you will always be mine Ella."
He stepped back, one hand still pinning her, while the other gabbed her coat lappel, tugging it open to reveal her white blouse and black skirt beneath. He snatched at her blouse, scattering its buttons across the floorboards as he tore it open. Then it was the turn of her bra, yanking it downwards, to the left and then the right, exposing her breasts and nipples. All the while she stood pinned, just about able to breathe, her impotent hand still gripping the tazer but doing nothing to defend the rest of her body.
"Thats better!" He laughed, before spitting in her face, his saliva flecking her cheek and forehead.
"Now you look more like the Ella I remember."
He let go her thoat and imediately grabbed her hair, pulling her downwards and off balance before pushing her hard with the other hand to send her sprawling to the floor.
Her head was throbbing and spinning.
This wasn't what was meant to be happening. She was meant to be in charge. She finally let go of the taser to use both hands to pull herself up onto all fours. His polished leather shoe connected hard with her stomach, driving what little breath she had from her in a gutteral grunting cry, and sending her sprawling once more.
"You fucking stupid cunt! What did you think was going to happen?"
He fell upon her, turning her onto her back and pinning her down as he forced his legs between hers, one arm across her throat and shoulders, the other pulling up her skirt, thrusting between her legs, pulling her panty gusset until it tore and gave way.
She twisted and writhed, scratching at his face, slapping at him, but he simply slid his arm upward pressing on her throat until she stopped, wide eyed and unable to breath. He relaxed the pressure, his eyes boring into hers as he allowed her air.
His other hand tugged at his zipper, freeing his cock to spring hot and hard against her sex.
"Did you think i was going to say sorry and beg for you to come back?"
She twisted her head away, tears welling. He released her kneck fully, grabbing her face, forcing it to face him.
"Look at me when I am speaking to you, cunt!" And with that he thrust upwards, driving his hard cock into her dry hole, squeezing her cheeks hard, digging his fingers in to muffle her scream as he impaled her. He pulled back and thrust again, forcing a whimpering sob from her pouting crushed mouth.
"Mmmmm fuck Ella, even dry you're looser than I remember, but then you never could leave your hole alone could you".
He laughed and grunted as he thrust again, harder this time, slamming his hips between her thighs and forcing the head of his cock painfully against her cervix, looking into her eyes with sadistic pleasure as he hurt her.
Her eyes were streaming and her chest heaved with sobs as he began to fuck her.
"If you didn't want this you wouldn't have come back, Ella! This is what you are to me cunt!"
His thrusts were becoming easier, less painful as her sex responded to its violation, lubricating his cock with her juices. She closed her eyes as she sensed it, knowing what was coming next.
"That's it. See? Getting all wet for me, cunt. Because this is what it is for."
She hated her body. Hated how it betrayed her every step of the way, from her impotent hand to her treacherous cunt. Eyes closed, she sobbed as he thrust over and over, fucking her into the hard dusty bare floorboards, her tears rolling down each side of her head to wet her ears and hair, her sobs and cries made all the more resonant by the emptiness of the room.
Then she felt it.
The tingling aching feeling.
"NO!" She shook her head as she screamed the word, the disgust and revulsion fueling a burst of futile resistance, slapping and writhing, but he simply gabbed her wrists with each hand and slammed them into the floorboards above her head.
He was laughing, pressing his whole weight on top of her as he thrust his cock violently into her.
Her energy spent she reverted to sobbing, lying limply beneath him, her body jerking with each thrust, and with each drive of his cock deep inside her, with each press against her clit as he bottomed out, it built - the tingling aching yearning of her approaching orgasm.
"Please... " she sobbed, "please stop".
He froze, holding himself with just the tip of his cock inside her, sweating and breathing hard. He grinned.
"Why would I do that?" And with the last word of his sentence he thrust back inside, driving a cry of pain and sickening pleasure as her hips involuntarily thrust to meet him.
He laughed and thrust again, relishing the torment on her sobbing face.
"Are you on birth control?"
She said nothing, turning her head away with a grunting sob as he thrust again.
"ANSWER ME!"
She shook her head, eyes screwed tight, snivelling and grunting with each unrelentling thrust.
"Stupid fucking bitch!" He spat in her face. His spit mixing with the tears and smeared makeup. "But i gues it's what a bitch is for."
With those nasty hateful words her orgasm exploded. Her hips thrusting up to meat him as every muscle in her body strained. Her cunt clamping, spasming, cumming around his cock.
He didnt stop. Pistoning in and out of her as he watched her face contort with such conflicted pleasure and hate and humiliation.
"That's it Ella. Good girl." He laughed as her muscles released. Her body spent. Whimpering and sobbing as she went limp beneath him once more.
"Now its my turn."
He didn't take long. A few more thrusts and he was tensing, grunting, and grinding into her with short deep thrusts as he errupted, emptying his cum inside her, flooding her with his seed.
He lay on top of her, panting and laughing, before pulling himself up and standing over her. She felt his cum spill as his cock slid from her cunt, running over her arsehole to soak into her dress.
"Get up!"
His voice was the same measured and controled tone that he always used, a tone ingrained in her psyche, in her muscle memory, a tennor that had been beaten into her. She responded mindlessly, automatically rolling over to push up onto her hands and knees, before forcing herself to stand. Her legs were week, and her hips complained painfully as she brought her thighs together. Her back was sore from the hard floor and the force of his pounding. She steadied herself with one hand against the wall as more of his seed spilled down the inside of her thighs. There was a roaring silence in her head, like she had been listening to the world on full volume and someone had just cut the cable.
"I didn't see a car." He said, matter of factly. "Did you come by bus?"
She nodded. Eyes still closed, her whole body achingly weak and trembling.
"Well we can't have you catching the bus like this. You're a fucking mess." She felt him pulling at her coat, refastening and patting off the dust. She flinched as he thrust the hat back onto her head, before sliding the sunglasses onto her face.
"That will have to do." He said. "I will drive you home, you will invite me in, and we will spend some time reminding you of your training."
She said nothing. There was nothing she could say. He was back in control and what he said is what would happen. She felt so stupid for thinking she could do, or be, anything different.
She finaly opened her eyes to see him standing infront of her.
"Do you understand?"
She nodded.
"Say it."
"I understand." She mumbled.
"What do you understand, Ella? Tell me."
"I understand... that you will take me to my flat, and you will fuck me again".
"Where, Ella. Where will I fuck you?"
"You will fuck me in my mouth.... and in my ass."
"Good girl" the familiar mocking phrase cut into her. It was as if the 7 years had never happened, as if nothing had changed, and she was right back where she was before.
There was nothing she could do to stop it.
She let go of the wall, standing shakily on her own two feet. She pushed her hands into her coat pockets to find the hard plastic handle of the Taser. A wave of shame and regret washing over her as it reinforced her failure and weakness.
He walked to the doorway, and turned to look her up and down.
"Hurry up slut. You have some making up to do."
End of chapter 1
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A Cold Dish
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This forum is for publishing, reading and discussing rape fantasy (noncon) stories and consensual erotic fiction. Before you post your first story, please take five minutes to read the Quick Guide to Posting Stories and the Tag Guidelines.
If you are looking for a particular story, the story index might be helpful. It lists all stories alphabetically on one page. Please rate and comment on the stories you've read, thank you!
Story Filters
Language: English Stories | Deutsche Geschichten
Consent: Noncon | Consensual
Length: Flash | Short | Medium | Long
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Theme: Gang Rape | Female Rapist | SciFi | Fantasy
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Malady
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Claire
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Re: A Cold Dish
Definitely a unique setup, I like it! I don't remember reading another story here that begins with a failed revenge attempt. Stories with victims who become victims again years later seem to be rare in general.
I'm really curious where you will take this and how many chapters the story is going to have. Will Ella ultimately find the courage to get her revenge? Or will this be a story of complete submission from now on? I'd be more interested in seeing various form of resistance from her, but I honestly can't predict where this will go based on the first chapter alone.
I'm really curious where you will take this and how many chapters the story is going to have. Will Ella ultimately find the courage to get her revenge? Or will this be a story of complete submission from now on? I'd be more interested in seeing various form of resistance from her, but I honestly can't predict where this will go based on the first chapter alone.
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Lager
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Malady
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A Cold Dish. Chapter 2
Chapter Tags: Add story tags specific to this chapter of your story here if you want to.
Content Warnings: This story contains brutal sexual violence, abuse, and blood.
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I know these are the final days of this sanctuary, so little chance of an audience. But, I wanted this done and onto the page, and there was no place else that I thought it might belong. I had hoped to get it finished for the final competition, it would have fitted the theme, but alas, it wasn't to be.
So, for the last of the straggling students and lingering staff, here is the second course.
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A Cold Dish: Chapter 2
HOME
Ella felt sick. A familiar anxious nuasia that enveloped her like the old and well worn coat that it was. A dark familiarity that was almost comforting as she sat in the passenger seat of Carl's spotless Audi. Having shared her address they travelled in silence as her mind returned to resonant memories of similar journies, ferried from one foster placement to another with that familiar churn in her tummy and the awkward desperate silence as the inevitable unfolded. It was as if the brief few years where she had been free of such everpresent anxiety were just a pretence; an impersonation of another's life in which she would never belong, and which she didn't deserve. This was her world and such a realisation was as much a disapointment as it was a sickening relief. She knew this place, this feeling, this Ella.
Arriving outside the apartment block, Ella climbed unsteadily from the car, hurting all over as Carl followed her to her front door where she let them both in.
The apartment was just 4 rooms, a bedroom, lounge, kitchen, and bathroom, sparsely furnished with the few items of furniture she possessed: A bed, a sofa, small dining table and chairs, and a wardrobe. The TV was perched on an upturned plastic crate.
Once through the door, Ella stood in the centre of her small lounge and began to undress. Carl ignored her at first as he moved around the flat, glancing each room over, before standing in the doorway between lounge and kitchen to watch her strip.
She stood naked, hands by her side, her clothes strewn at her feet, the smell of her sex and his cum now free to fill the air around her. Her nipples tingled as she felt them hardening with exposure to the air. She didn't look at him, staring instead at the floor about a metre infront of her as she felt his eyes inspecting her.
"Desperate fucking slut." He said, crossing the room to the front door and leaving it open as he left.
She stood, suspended for a moment, before her legs buckled and she fell first to her knees, and then to the floor. Lying on her side she drew her knees into the foetal position and sobbed.
She must have slept. When she opened her eyes again the sun was low enough to be streaming directly through the windows, emblazoning the room in the orange gold of the late evening sun.
The front door was still wide open and she dragged herself to her feet to close it. She made her way to the toilet where she sat heavily on the hard plastic seat to releave her strained bladder.
Her piss stung her lips as it sprayed, and she reached between her legs to inspect herself. She was tender and sore from his assualt. The piss played over her fingers as she traced the folds of her sex, her mind filling with the memory of the morning's rape. The feel of his arm across her throat, the press of his body crushing her against the wall, and the pain and violation of his cock forcing into her. She finished pissing but her hand remained in place, pressing against her mound, crushing her clit with her palm and feeling that aching release of sensation.
She snatched her hand away, fisting her hand to bring it down hard on her own thigh, trying to drive the sensation away. What the fuck is wrong with me, she thought. She felt the tears welling and swallowed, forcing herself into the present, the ache of her punched thigh, the sound of the traffic outside. She sniffed the tears away and stood. Not bothering to wipe herself or wash her hands.
Her clothes were where she had left them, crumpled on her lounge floor. She tugged them on. Not bothering to adjust them in place, just using them for the function of cover, enough to conceal her body and nothing more.
Outside, the low sun was almost blinding as Ella closed the door behind her and made her way across the street. The woman from the flat opposite hers was outside, smoking and talking loudly into her phone, dressed as always in her imaculate blue and white tracksuit and spotless white trainers.
The smell of tobacco filled Ella's senses, further fuelling a familiar fire she had surpressed for 2years 3 months and 1 day. She ignored the numbers. Denying herself the fightback, muting the voice that might upend her singular desire.
The small corner shop was as it always was, crowded with magazines and sweets and bottles of fizzy drink. She placed the litre bottle of coke on the counter where she kept her gaze firmly fixed.
"Large bottle of your vodka, 20 marlboro lights and a lighter" the words were like muscle memory, tripping automatically from her tongue.
There was a long silence as she felt Roy's eyes on her. He knew her, knew her demons, but whatever battle played in his head in that long pause, it was his business that won out. He put the vodka and coke into a thin blue plastic carrier bag and placed the cigarettes and lighter beside them.
She didnt hear the price. Her blood was roaring in her ears as she tapped her phone, snatching up the ciggarettes and lifting the blue bag to turn and exit.
The walk home felt long and tortured, as if everyone in the street knew her failure. The neighbour, still on the phone, paused as she walked past, and Ella imagined she could feel her disapointed gaze.
Back in her kitchen she sat with her chipped mug and filled it half with vodka and half with coke. She unwrapped the celophane and prized open the marlborough lights, pausing to slow down before sliding a single perfectly formed cigarette and taking it between her lips. The flint sparked, the flame lit. The tip of her cigarette instantly flared as she drew long and deep. Her lungs filled with that delicious fiery feeling, reigniting those neglected pathways of nicotine addiction, surging dopamine and endorphines coursed through her body like a long forgotten superpower. She exhaled, filling the space with a bluewhite haze before taking a slug of the sugary tonic. It had been too long.
She woke with her face pressed to the plastic surface of her kitchen table. Saliva had pooled, glueing her cheek to be tugged almost painfully free as she pulled her head up. There was banging. Her head hurt and her vision swam as she tried to take in her surroundings.
Her kitchen.
The 3 quarter empty bottles of coke and vodka infront of her.
The saucer full of cigarette buts.
Banging. It was her door. She stumbled to her feet and to the door, opening it to find Carl who quickly pushed his way in. She tottered backwards as he held the door open for another man who closed the door behind himself.
"Fucking hell. Look at the state of you!"
His hand was quick amd she was in no state to avoid the slap that caught her across the side of the face, snapping her head sideways.
"Get in the fucking shower. I have a guest"
Ella moved on autopilot, obediently moving to the bathroom. She felt sick. Her mouth and nose felt acrid and sore from the cigarettes and her face stung from his slap.
"Don't you dare lock the fucking door"
She didn't.
The luke warm water from her knackered electric shower cascaded over her as she stood in the bath, steadying herself with one hand on the tiled wall as she lathered her body with the other. The water stung her back and she realised she must have friction burns to go with the bruises from being driven into the floor.
She knew she didnt have long. Carl would not like his friend kept waiting.
The friend was a large man, thick set and a belly, with short cropped black hair and stubble, dressed in just blue jeans and white Tshirt. She hadn't recognised him, but she knew what he was there for and her role in what was coming.
Sure enough, carl strode into the bathroom to snatch back the plastic sheeting and look her over.
"Get out and show him what you are good for. He grabbed the towel from the rail and threw it at her as she turned off the shower. She briefly patted herself dry and tied her damp hair into a high ponytail. The air was cool on her damp skin and she felt her nipples tingle and stiffen as she returned to the lounge.
He was sat on her sofa. His jeans and pants already removed and draped over the arm. His cock jutted from between his pale fat thighs, swollen and cut, its helmet flaring angry and red. He wasn't small.
"Hello darling." He said in a sneering chuckle.
She said nothing as she knelt between his legs. She could smell his sweat and musk, sweet and achrid at the same time. All men smelt different. But some have a slight achrid sent to them. She never knew quite what it was, but he was one of them.
He placed his hands on his thighs and his cock twitched.
"Good girl" he said "now show me what you've got".
A wave of nausia passed over her as she dutifully leant into his lap, a mixture of hangover, shame, and revulsion as she wrapped her fingers around his thick hard shaft and touched her lips to his tip. He groaned as she squeezed and sucked his helmet into her mouth, running her tongue around it, finding his pisshole and tasting his precum.
"mmmmm fuck girl. That's it. You know."
She jerked her hand up and down as she felated his head and wondered when he last had cum. The longer it had been the shorter he might last and the quicker this could be over.
She closed her eyes letting the taste and feel of him fill her world, pushing away the nausia and headache, pushing away the feel of the thin carpet and hard floor under her knees, the semse of Carl watching and assessing her, the dingy room and failed sobriety, pushing it all away to be replaced by nothing but the here and now of this strangers cock filling her mouth.
She felt his hands on her head, taking control, pressing her head to make her take more of his cock. She breathed deep through her nose while she could, and gave into it. The gentle pressure became more instistent, forceful, pressing her down until it pushed into her throat making her wretch and choke. Instinctively she tried to pull back but his hands held her, forcing her down, throat stuffed with his cock and her face pressed into him. She couldnt breath, she tried to pull back slapping at his thighs and tummy, before he grabbed her ponytail and yanked her up, twisting her head to look at him.
"You fucking slap me?! Who the fuck do you think you are?" His face was nasty. Angry and mean. He pulled her away and to the side forcing her to twist and expose her chest and tummy for his other hand.
SMACK! Across her left breast. SMACK! Her tummy. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Her thighs side and breasts.
She shreaked as the flat of his hand rained stinging blows. Flinching and squirming and shreaking as he turned her flesh red.
"You need to teach this bitch some fucking manners, Carl!"
"That's why you're here'" Carl snorted. "Teach her what she fucking is."
The man had pulled himself forward to perch on the edge of the sofa now, one hand gripping Ella's hair painfully tight, holding her in place as she twisted and contorted and flinched with every slap. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
The sound of his hand on her flesh met with her shrieks and sobs as he turned her skin crimson.
Then he stopped, still gripping her hair as she sobbed. She was shaking, her chest rising and heaving with ragged breaths.
'Open your legs"
His command cut through her spinning panic. Knowing what he wanted, what was coming.
"No, please!" she blurted "I'm sorry."
SMACK!
"OPEN YOUR FUCKING LEGS!"
Legs quivering, Ella willed them to open, half on her side, her head and shoulders held off the floor by his grip on her ponytail, her legs bent and splayed, one knee pointing upwards the other laying against the floor.
He raised his hand, holding it in the air for a long torturing moment, until a desperate whimper of fear escaped her lips and he brought it down hard. She screamed as his hand hit her cunt flat and wide, pain exploding as she clamped her thighs shut and writhed.
Both the men laughed and he let go of her pony tail. She curled up in a ball on her side crushing her thighs together, willing the pain to subside, sobbing as it gradually ebbed.
"Now come here."
Snivelling, whimpering, unfurled and raised her head to see he was now sat back in the couch. A sneering smile across his stubbly face, his swollen cock jutting lewdly straight up.
"Come here and sit your whore cunt on Daddy's cock."
Ella pulled herself up, first to her hands and knees and then up onto her feet where she stood unsteadily. Her skin stung all over from his punishing hand and between her legs it ached and hurt in equal measure. Obediently she moved to position herself imediately infront of him, turning to point her arse towards him, intending to sit down upon his cock with her back to him, but another sharp slap across her ass halted her.
"No. The other way around slut. You are going to look into my eyes as you take my cock like a good girl."
She turned without a word and moved to straddle his lap. A knee on either side of his fat thighs. He pushed his arse forward to move his gut out the way a little.
"Look at me." His voice was firm and commanding, leaving no room for disobedience. His eyes met hers. Two dark brown pools holding her gaze as she reached beneath herself to guide his cock to her tender hole. There was no mistaking the ache she felt. Despite the soreness and nausia, it was there. A twisted fucked up aching that needed to be filled and she hated herself for it.
She let out a grunting whimpering moan as his cock stretched and impaled her, sinking all the way down until she was sat in his lap with it burried inside her.
"There's a good girl." He smiled, sliding his hands up each side of her body, making her skin crawl. He reached her breasts and pressed his hands to them before curling his fingers, digging them into her flesh, gripping them hard and pulling them appart. She whimpered with the discomfort and ground herself onto him to offset it with the full deep sensation of his cock inside her.
His moves were so predictable. The asshole script for mistreating a woman. Next would be her nipples, pinching and twisting, with slaps and names and verbal abuse.
She had been here so many times before. How dumb was she to have thought it could be any different.
His fat thumb and finger found her nipples, releasing her breasts from the vicelike grip of his full hands to pinch hard on those tender buttons, chuckling as she squirmed on his lap. Still grinding herself. Still fucking him as he hurt and tormented her breasts, and doing nothing to stop him.
Then he pulled hard, twisting and pinching, making her squeel and instinctively try to bat his arms and hands away and regretting it even before she had completed the movement, cowering back and turning her head away to no avail as he smacked her hard across the face once more.
"Sorry!" She blurted, closing her eyes as the pain ebbed to a stinging burning glow across the left side of her head.
His hands returned to her breasts. Pinching, malling slapping as he revelled in her flinching whimpering responses.
She nolonger moved to stop him. She knew the only way out of this was through it. He was going to do what he wanted and Carl was going to watch every second until he took his turn. She tried to block it all out. Just focus on the feel of his cock inside her, the feel of her stretched cunt, the pressure on her inside, the grind of her clit as she jerked her hips against him. She willed him on, knowing the only way was to break through it.
There. She could feel it. Her own pleaure. The tingling aching fire at the edge of her being. Behind the pain and the hate and self loathing, her orgasm was building, she could feel it. She fixed on it, fucking the digusting fat bastard beneath, desperate to feel her orgasm wash it all away. It would not be enough, but it would do for now. She thrust and bucked desperately, forcing herself towards orgasm.
"She's trying to make herself cum."
It was Carl's voice, cutting through her revery like a twisted knife.
"Despereate fucking cow!" The fat man said in reply, shoving at her, as if to topple her from his lap.
"Nooo please! Don't!" She protested as she lewdly thrust her hips, desperately trying to rinse a little more sordid pleasure as he renewed his push and sent her sprawling backwards onto the floor.
Then he was on her, grabbing her hair, his body ontop of her. She squirmed, turning sidewards.trying to roll away from him, but that was what he wanted, letting her twist onto her stomach before pressing his full weight ontop of her, crushing her into the worn carpet.
"Get me something to lube her with he grunted. The exertion of maintaining her fixed beneath him making him breathless.
Carl returned a moment later holding a bottle of frying oil. With one hand twisted tight in her hair, the man pushed himself up to sit on the back of her legs. He took the bottle, flicking it open with his thumb to poor a generous quantity of the golden viscous liquid over her buttocks. She felt it run into her arsecrack and down over her aching empty cunt becore soking into the carpet beneath her.
He yanked her hair, forcing her head up and back.
"Are you ready cunt?"
She said nothing, gritting her teeth against the pain of her scalp. She knew what was coming, and all she could do was wait for it to push her over the threshold.
She felt his hand and cock at her slippery arsehole, felt him slide the head to her puckered hole. She tried to relax, but knew there was little she could do. He thrust, stabbing his cock suddenly at her arsehole. The pain of its resistence lasted only for a moment before it was replaced by the pain of her sphincter being forced open, she felt like she was tearing as his head pushed suddenly into her, she screamed, only to be cut short as he clamped his oil slick hand over her mouth, falling forward onto her as his cock forced deeper into her arsehole.
Violating her violently until his swollen hard cock was forced all the way into her back passage. The pain was extreme. She thrashed under him, and screamed into his hand.
One hand over her mouth, the other still gripping her hair painfully tight, his body crushing her into her carpet as he drew back his hips just slightly and thrust again, and again, and again.
Her scream died, becoming a rythmic whimper, in time to his short panting thrusts, and with that, there it was. The distance. That was what she called it. The place where she could bear it. Another plain, imediately alongside her reality, where she experienced eveything and nothing all at once.
His hand slipped from her mouth and her face was pressed into the carpet. It was filthy. From this close she could see the individual fibres, and hairs, and grit, and dust. She wondered how many tennents had trod this carpet, each adding their wear and grime, and hair and skincells. She could see the zipper from her disgarded coat where it lay on the floor, glinting rose gold in the white light of her energy saver bulbs.
She could still feel him, feel the pain of his cock breaking her insides, but it was now just one thing of a million others that she could choose to focus on. She could feel his sweaty weight on top of her, his grunting breath on the side of her face and ear, his balls against her cunt, the feel of the carpet under her, rubbing against her with each thrust. The sound of a siren drifted in through the open top window. Someone somewhere was in trouble. Maybe it was an ambulance, maybe someone somewhere was about to be rescued. But not here.
Nobody called for help in this neighbourhood.
There was no time in 'the distance'. Minutes, hours, they all just seemed to slip as fleeting as her thoughts that flicked from one thing to another in perpetual distraction from the here and now
The man was tensing, flecks of sweat and spit spattered her face as she sensed him building to his cum.
She wondered if he had a partner, maybe a wife. She wondered if this is what he was like with her.
He would cum in her arse, telling her what a filthy dirty whore she was. Then he would go, and Carl would take his turn.
The man swore, thrusting hard and holding himself still as his cock twitched and pumped. In her tortured arsehole. He called her a 'disgusting piece of shit whore', as he came inside her, while her eyes followed the coat zipper, along the hem of the dark blue material until it stopped where the hood began. There was something she wanted to remember about the coat.
She woke in pain. A stabbing pain in her abdomen. Movement brought more pain as she tried to sit up, aching pains in her limbs alongside stinging pain from her skin. She was in her bed, the sheets stuck to her skin. The skin pain was from cuts where the blood had dried fast to the cotton, opening anew as she tore herself free. He had cut her. Long slices across her breasts and arms and thighs.
Her head swam as she stood, a wave of nausea passing as she steadied herself. The pain inside her was constant, an aching cramp, deep in her core. Carl was asleep, naked and streaked with her blood, without any cuts of his own.
She made her way unsteadily into the kitchen, sitting heavily onto a plastic chair and grimacing as pain stabbed upwards from her arsehole and vagina. She scrabbled for a cigarette. Her hands shook as she managed to light it, breathing in deeply as the tip sizzled and flaired.
When she was younger Ella had watched a film about a girl who could spontaniously combust the world around her, and for months after she had imagined being able to do the same, her head filled with fantasies of her school and foster homes and everyone in them burning around her.
She stared at the quarter full bottle of vodka and took another shaky draw of her cigarette.
Carls suit was draped over a broken wooden chair next to her bed that doubled as a night stand. Ella watched as the clear water like liquid cascaded over the suit material, soaking into the weave as it flowed to pool on the seat.
She held the lighter to it, watching the flurry of small blue flames lick over the expensive material. She waited a moment as it caught, before dropping the lighter onto the puddled seat.
In the front room she made for the front door, but caught her reflection in the window, naked and raw with a lattice of red across her exposed body. She looked like a horror film. She glanced around for her coat, slipping it on and feeling the weight in the pockets. Her hands slid into them one closing around the smooth slab of her phone, the other curling around the hard plastic handle of the tazer.
The smell of smoke wafted through to her as she stood there, dazed, holding the contents of her pockets.
"WHAT THE FUCK?! YOU FUCKING CRAZY BITCH"
The sound of Carl waking to a smoke filling room as the flames from his burning suit spread up the wall. His anger was usually something that paralysed her, reducing her to a panicking mess, but this time it was different. As if something of the distance had remained within her. She knew she should go. She knew he would be violent. Maybe this time he might really kill her. But running was not the only option.
He came bursting from the bedroom as she pulled the tazer from her pocket, pointing it gun like towards him and pulling the trigger before he had time to even register what it was.
The twin barbs found their mark above his nipple on the right hand, releasing their charge and instantly robbing him of all muscular control.
He dropped, spasticated limbs twitching and jerking, his face a contortion of shock. The website had promised 20 seconds of incapacity, but for Ella it seemed like so much longer. She drank in the scene of her abuser convulsing on her floor infront of her, aware of a surging elation coursing through her.
Upon firing, the coil cartridge had detached from the nose of the taser, leaving her holding what was now a small catle prod. It had three more charges remaining, but she realised she didnt want him to get that close. The moment was shattered by the suddening shrill claxon of the fire alarm bursting into life. The smoke had evidently made its way into the kitchen, and the sound ignited a sudden realisation in Ella that now really was the time to leave.
She made it to the door and out onto the street before she heard him shout. A gutteral roaring cry of rage from a wounded animal. She could hear the alarms from the 3 flats above hers, amidst shouts and cries from her neighbours. It was early. The sun hadn't quite crested the houses further down the street and the lamp posts were yet to switch off, adding their florescence to the cold blue light of the morning.
"YOU FUCKING BITCH!"
He came careering out of the flat behind her as she fled into the empty road. The tarmac gritty and cold beneath her bare feet. She knew she couldnt outrun him so she turned, hoping to stab the twin nubs of the tazer into him as he lunged. But it was to late, his gut punch connected with her midrift, driving the air from her in an explosion of pain, and sending her down hard onto the road. The tazer went skidding to the gutter.
"YOU STUPID FUCKING COW! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" He stood over her naked and streaked with dried blood, fresh red glinting from where two barbs remained hooked in his skin, trailing thin redundant wires.
"I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU YOU STUPID BITCH!"
He was raging, wild eyed and unhinged.
"Oy mate!"
The voice came from behind him, unheard by Ella who was still desperately trying to reclaim oxygen.
But Carl heard it. He turned to recieve a punch square in the face.
Realing backwards, he almost lost his footing as he stumbled over Ella, revealing to her the neighbour, in the same tracksuit and trainers, standing side on in some kind of fighting stance.
Carl swore and lunged at her, swinging his arm wildly, fist clenched, but she seemed to move like water, deftly swaying out of its way and stepping in to bring her knee up hard into his stomach. As he doubled over she brought her elbow down onto his back, stepping away again to let him sprawl face first onto the road. Ella stared up at her rescuer filled with a sense of relief and awe that quickly turned to anger.
No. No not this! This was her fight. She needed to do this. She pulled herself to her feet, pushing away the pain that surged from her core through every fibre of her body. Carl was drawing himself onto his hands and knees, turning his head to the side to look at Ella as she stood over him. She pulled her fist back and up, before driving it downwards. Her hand, in that moment was the sum of a life time of fists, countless fists that had pummelled, futile and misdirected, into the walls and doors of her childhood, and all the fists that went unspent, the clenched inpotency of rages that never had an outlet. All of the pain and fear and anger channelled into one moment and one person, who was, at once, every piece of shit she had ever known.
It connected with his temple. His arms and legs buckled instantly. His head hit the road with a sickening crack.
He didn't move.
"Fucking hell! Look at you girl!"
Ella looked up from Carl's prone body to her neighbour who was staring at her in alarm.
"Can I call an ambulance?"
Ella.looked back at Carl
"For you, not him!"
Ella was aware that others were gathering around them.
"No. Its ok." she replied, fishing her phone from her pocket.
Her gaze moved to the flats as she held the phone to her ear. Thick black smoke was curling out of her flat window now.
"Emergency services. Can I take your name."
"Ella"
"Thank you. What emergency service are you needing Ella?"
Her mind wandered again, following the smoke upwards to the brightening morning sky. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day.
"Hello Ella? I can connect you to police, paramedics, or the fire service. What's your emergency"
Ella felt the energy slipping from her as she stood there. As if every aching muscle in her body was melting away. Her vision swam and she was aware of her neighbour stepping towards her, arms outstretched as if to catch her.
"All of them." She managed to say.
End of chapter 2
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Content Warnings: This story contains brutal sexual violence, abuse, and blood.
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I know these are the final days of this sanctuary, so little chance of an audience. But, I wanted this done and onto the page, and there was no place else that I thought it might belong. I had hoped to get it finished for the final competition, it would have fitted the theme, but alas, it wasn't to be.
So, for the last of the straggling students and lingering staff, here is the second course.
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A Cold Dish: Chapter 2
HOME
Ella felt sick. A familiar anxious nuasia that enveloped her like the old and well worn coat that it was. A dark familiarity that was almost comforting as she sat in the passenger seat of Carl's spotless Audi. Having shared her address they travelled in silence as her mind returned to resonant memories of similar journies, ferried from one foster placement to another with that familiar churn in her tummy and the awkward desperate silence as the inevitable unfolded. It was as if the brief few years where she had been free of such everpresent anxiety were just a pretence; an impersonation of another's life in which she would never belong, and which she didn't deserve. This was her world and such a realisation was as much a disapointment as it was a sickening relief. She knew this place, this feeling, this Ella.
Arriving outside the apartment block, Ella climbed unsteadily from the car, hurting all over as Carl followed her to her front door where she let them both in.
The apartment was just 4 rooms, a bedroom, lounge, kitchen, and bathroom, sparsely furnished with the few items of furniture she possessed: A bed, a sofa, small dining table and chairs, and a wardrobe. The TV was perched on an upturned plastic crate.
Once through the door, Ella stood in the centre of her small lounge and began to undress. Carl ignored her at first as he moved around the flat, glancing each room over, before standing in the doorway between lounge and kitchen to watch her strip.
She stood naked, hands by her side, her clothes strewn at her feet, the smell of her sex and his cum now free to fill the air around her. Her nipples tingled as she felt them hardening with exposure to the air. She didn't look at him, staring instead at the floor about a metre infront of her as she felt his eyes inspecting her.
"Desperate fucking slut." He said, crossing the room to the front door and leaving it open as he left.
She stood, suspended for a moment, before her legs buckled and she fell first to her knees, and then to the floor. Lying on her side she drew her knees into the foetal position and sobbed.
She must have slept. When she opened her eyes again the sun was low enough to be streaming directly through the windows, emblazoning the room in the orange gold of the late evening sun.
The front door was still wide open and she dragged herself to her feet to close it. She made her way to the toilet where she sat heavily on the hard plastic seat to releave her strained bladder.
Her piss stung her lips as it sprayed, and she reached between her legs to inspect herself. She was tender and sore from his assualt. The piss played over her fingers as she traced the folds of her sex, her mind filling with the memory of the morning's rape. The feel of his arm across her throat, the press of his body crushing her against the wall, and the pain and violation of his cock forcing into her. She finished pissing but her hand remained in place, pressing against her mound, crushing her clit with her palm and feeling that aching release of sensation.
She snatched her hand away, fisting her hand to bring it down hard on her own thigh, trying to drive the sensation away. What the fuck is wrong with me, she thought. She felt the tears welling and swallowed, forcing herself into the present, the ache of her punched thigh, the sound of the traffic outside. She sniffed the tears away and stood. Not bothering to wipe herself or wash her hands.
Her clothes were where she had left them, crumpled on her lounge floor. She tugged them on. Not bothering to adjust them in place, just using them for the function of cover, enough to conceal her body and nothing more.
Outside, the low sun was almost blinding as Ella closed the door behind her and made her way across the street. The woman from the flat opposite hers was outside, smoking and talking loudly into her phone, dressed as always in her imaculate blue and white tracksuit and spotless white trainers.
The smell of tobacco filled Ella's senses, further fuelling a familiar fire she had surpressed for 2years 3 months and 1 day. She ignored the numbers. Denying herself the fightback, muting the voice that might upend her singular desire.
The small corner shop was as it always was, crowded with magazines and sweets and bottles of fizzy drink. She placed the litre bottle of coke on the counter where she kept her gaze firmly fixed.
"Large bottle of your vodka, 20 marlboro lights and a lighter" the words were like muscle memory, tripping automatically from her tongue.
There was a long silence as she felt Roy's eyes on her. He knew her, knew her demons, but whatever battle played in his head in that long pause, it was his business that won out. He put the vodka and coke into a thin blue plastic carrier bag and placed the cigarettes and lighter beside them.
She didnt hear the price. Her blood was roaring in her ears as she tapped her phone, snatching up the ciggarettes and lifting the blue bag to turn and exit.
The walk home felt long and tortured, as if everyone in the street knew her failure. The neighbour, still on the phone, paused as she walked past, and Ella imagined she could feel her disapointed gaze.
Back in her kitchen she sat with her chipped mug and filled it half with vodka and half with coke. She unwrapped the celophane and prized open the marlborough lights, pausing to slow down before sliding a single perfectly formed cigarette and taking it between her lips. The flint sparked, the flame lit. The tip of her cigarette instantly flared as she drew long and deep. Her lungs filled with that delicious fiery feeling, reigniting those neglected pathways of nicotine addiction, surging dopamine and endorphines coursed through her body like a long forgotten superpower. She exhaled, filling the space with a bluewhite haze before taking a slug of the sugary tonic. It had been too long.
She woke with her face pressed to the plastic surface of her kitchen table. Saliva had pooled, glueing her cheek to be tugged almost painfully free as she pulled her head up. There was banging. Her head hurt and her vision swam as she tried to take in her surroundings.
Her kitchen.
The 3 quarter empty bottles of coke and vodka infront of her.
The saucer full of cigarette buts.
Banging. It was her door. She stumbled to her feet and to the door, opening it to find Carl who quickly pushed his way in. She tottered backwards as he held the door open for another man who closed the door behind himself.
"Fucking hell. Look at the state of you!"
His hand was quick amd she was in no state to avoid the slap that caught her across the side of the face, snapping her head sideways.
"Get in the fucking shower. I have a guest"
Ella moved on autopilot, obediently moving to the bathroom. She felt sick. Her mouth and nose felt acrid and sore from the cigarettes and her face stung from his slap.
"Don't you dare lock the fucking door"
She didn't.
The luke warm water from her knackered electric shower cascaded over her as she stood in the bath, steadying herself with one hand on the tiled wall as she lathered her body with the other. The water stung her back and she realised she must have friction burns to go with the bruises from being driven into the floor.
She knew she didnt have long. Carl would not like his friend kept waiting.
The friend was a large man, thick set and a belly, with short cropped black hair and stubble, dressed in just blue jeans and white Tshirt. She hadn't recognised him, but she knew what he was there for and her role in what was coming.
Sure enough, carl strode into the bathroom to snatch back the plastic sheeting and look her over.
"Get out and show him what you are good for. He grabbed the towel from the rail and threw it at her as she turned off the shower. She briefly patted herself dry and tied her damp hair into a high ponytail. The air was cool on her damp skin and she felt her nipples tingle and stiffen as she returned to the lounge.
He was sat on her sofa. His jeans and pants already removed and draped over the arm. His cock jutted from between his pale fat thighs, swollen and cut, its helmet flaring angry and red. He wasn't small.
"Hello darling." He said in a sneering chuckle.
She said nothing as she knelt between his legs. She could smell his sweat and musk, sweet and achrid at the same time. All men smelt different. But some have a slight achrid sent to them. She never knew quite what it was, but he was one of them.
He placed his hands on his thighs and his cock twitched.
"Good girl" he said "now show me what you've got".
A wave of nausia passed over her as she dutifully leant into his lap, a mixture of hangover, shame, and revulsion as she wrapped her fingers around his thick hard shaft and touched her lips to his tip. He groaned as she squeezed and sucked his helmet into her mouth, running her tongue around it, finding his pisshole and tasting his precum.
"mmmmm fuck girl. That's it. You know."
She jerked her hand up and down as she felated his head and wondered when he last had cum. The longer it had been the shorter he might last and the quicker this could be over.
She closed her eyes letting the taste and feel of him fill her world, pushing away the nausia and headache, pushing away the feel of the thin carpet and hard floor under her knees, the semse of Carl watching and assessing her, the dingy room and failed sobriety, pushing it all away to be replaced by nothing but the here and now of this strangers cock filling her mouth.
She felt his hands on her head, taking control, pressing her head to make her take more of his cock. She breathed deep through her nose while she could, and gave into it. The gentle pressure became more instistent, forceful, pressing her down until it pushed into her throat making her wretch and choke. Instinctively she tried to pull back but his hands held her, forcing her down, throat stuffed with his cock and her face pressed into him. She couldnt breath, she tried to pull back slapping at his thighs and tummy, before he grabbed her ponytail and yanked her up, twisting her head to look at him.
"You fucking slap me?! Who the fuck do you think you are?" His face was nasty. Angry and mean. He pulled her away and to the side forcing her to twist and expose her chest and tummy for his other hand.
SMACK! Across her left breast. SMACK! Her tummy. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Her thighs side and breasts.
She shreaked as the flat of his hand rained stinging blows. Flinching and squirming and shreaking as he turned her flesh red.
"You need to teach this bitch some fucking manners, Carl!"
"That's why you're here'" Carl snorted. "Teach her what she fucking is."
The man had pulled himself forward to perch on the edge of the sofa now, one hand gripping Ella's hair painfully tight, holding her in place as she twisted and contorted and flinched with every slap. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
The sound of his hand on her flesh met with her shrieks and sobs as he turned her skin crimson.
Then he stopped, still gripping her hair as she sobbed. She was shaking, her chest rising and heaving with ragged breaths.
'Open your legs"
His command cut through her spinning panic. Knowing what he wanted, what was coming.
"No, please!" she blurted "I'm sorry."
SMACK!
"OPEN YOUR FUCKING LEGS!"
Legs quivering, Ella willed them to open, half on her side, her head and shoulders held off the floor by his grip on her ponytail, her legs bent and splayed, one knee pointing upwards the other laying against the floor.
He raised his hand, holding it in the air for a long torturing moment, until a desperate whimper of fear escaped her lips and he brought it down hard. She screamed as his hand hit her cunt flat and wide, pain exploding as she clamped her thighs shut and writhed.
Both the men laughed and he let go of her pony tail. She curled up in a ball on her side crushing her thighs together, willing the pain to subside, sobbing as it gradually ebbed.
"Now come here."
Snivelling, whimpering, unfurled and raised her head to see he was now sat back in the couch. A sneering smile across his stubbly face, his swollen cock jutting lewdly straight up.
"Come here and sit your whore cunt on Daddy's cock."
Ella pulled herself up, first to her hands and knees and then up onto her feet where she stood unsteadily. Her skin stung all over from his punishing hand and between her legs it ached and hurt in equal measure. Obediently she moved to position herself imediately infront of him, turning to point her arse towards him, intending to sit down upon his cock with her back to him, but another sharp slap across her ass halted her.
"No. The other way around slut. You are going to look into my eyes as you take my cock like a good girl."
She turned without a word and moved to straddle his lap. A knee on either side of his fat thighs. He pushed his arse forward to move his gut out the way a little.
"Look at me." His voice was firm and commanding, leaving no room for disobedience. His eyes met hers. Two dark brown pools holding her gaze as she reached beneath herself to guide his cock to her tender hole. There was no mistaking the ache she felt. Despite the soreness and nausia, it was there. A twisted fucked up aching that needed to be filled and she hated herself for it.
She let out a grunting whimpering moan as his cock stretched and impaled her, sinking all the way down until she was sat in his lap with it burried inside her.
"There's a good girl." He smiled, sliding his hands up each side of her body, making her skin crawl. He reached her breasts and pressed his hands to them before curling his fingers, digging them into her flesh, gripping them hard and pulling them appart. She whimpered with the discomfort and ground herself onto him to offset it with the full deep sensation of his cock inside her.
His moves were so predictable. The asshole script for mistreating a woman. Next would be her nipples, pinching and twisting, with slaps and names and verbal abuse.
She had been here so many times before. How dumb was she to have thought it could be any different.
His fat thumb and finger found her nipples, releasing her breasts from the vicelike grip of his full hands to pinch hard on those tender buttons, chuckling as she squirmed on his lap. Still grinding herself. Still fucking him as he hurt and tormented her breasts, and doing nothing to stop him.
Then he pulled hard, twisting and pinching, making her squeel and instinctively try to bat his arms and hands away and regretting it even before she had completed the movement, cowering back and turning her head away to no avail as he smacked her hard across the face once more.
"Sorry!" She blurted, closing her eyes as the pain ebbed to a stinging burning glow across the left side of her head.
His hands returned to her breasts. Pinching, malling slapping as he revelled in her flinching whimpering responses.
She nolonger moved to stop him. She knew the only way out of this was through it. He was going to do what he wanted and Carl was going to watch every second until he took his turn. She tried to block it all out. Just focus on the feel of his cock inside her, the feel of her stretched cunt, the pressure on her inside, the grind of her clit as she jerked her hips against him. She willed him on, knowing the only way was to break through it.
There. She could feel it. Her own pleaure. The tingling aching fire at the edge of her being. Behind the pain and the hate and self loathing, her orgasm was building, she could feel it. She fixed on it, fucking the digusting fat bastard beneath, desperate to feel her orgasm wash it all away. It would not be enough, but it would do for now. She thrust and bucked desperately, forcing herself towards orgasm.
"She's trying to make herself cum."
It was Carl's voice, cutting through her revery like a twisted knife.
"Despereate fucking cow!" The fat man said in reply, shoving at her, as if to topple her from his lap.
"Nooo please! Don't!" She protested as she lewdly thrust her hips, desperately trying to rinse a little more sordid pleasure as he renewed his push and sent her sprawling backwards onto the floor.
Then he was on her, grabbing her hair, his body ontop of her. She squirmed, turning sidewards.trying to roll away from him, but that was what he wanted, letting her twist onto her stomach before pressing his full weight ontop of her, crushing her into the worn carpet.
"Get me something to lube her with he grunted. The exertion of maintaining her fixed beneath him making him breathless.
Carl returned a moment later holding a bottle of frying oil. With one hand twisted tight in her hair, the man pushed himself up to sit on the back of her legs. He took the bottle, flicking it open with his thumb to poor a generous quantity of the golden viscous liquid over her buttocks. She felt it run into her arsecrack and down over her aching empty cunt becore soking into the carpet beneath her.
He yanked her hair, forcing her head up and back.
"Are you ready cunt?"
She said nothing, gritting her teeth against the pain of her scalp. She knew what was coming, and all she could do was wait for it to push her over the threshold.
She felt his hand and cock at her slippery arsehole, felt him slide the head to her puckered hole. She tried to relax, but knew there was little she could do. He thrust, stabbing his cock suddenly at her arsehole. The pain of its resistence lasted only for a moment before it was replaced by the pain of her sphincter being forced open, she felt like she was tearing as his head pushed suddenly into her, she screamed, only to be cut short as he clamped his oil slick hand over her mouth, falling forward onto her as his cock forced deeper into her arsehole.
Violating her violently until his swollen hard cock was forced all the way into her back passage. The pain was extreme. She thrashed under him, and screamed into his hand.
One hand over her mouth, the other still gripping her hair painfully tight, his body crushing her into her carpet as he drew back his hips just slightly and thrust again, and again, and again.
Her scream died, becoming a rythmic whimper, in time to his short panting thrusts, and with that, there it was. The distance. That was what she called it. The place where she could bear it. Another plain, imediately alongside her reality, where she experienced eveything and nothing all at once.
His hand slipped from her mouth and her face was pressed into the carpet. It was filthy. From this close she could see the individual fibres, and hairs, and grit, and dust. She wondered how many tennents had trod this carpet, each adding their wear and grime, and hair and skincells. She could see the zipper from her disgarded coat where it lay on the floor, glinting rose gold in the white light of her energy saver bulbs.
She could still feel him, feel the pain of his cock breaking her insides, but it was now just one thing of a million others that she could choose to focus on. She could feel his sweaty weight on top of her, his grunting breath on the side of her face and ear, his balls against her cunt, the feel of the carpet under her, rubbing against her with each thrust. The sound of a siren drifted in through the open top window. Someone somewhere was in trouble. Maybe it was an ambulance, maybe someone somewhere was about to be rescued. But not here.
Nobody called for help in this neighbourhood.
There was no time in 'the distance'. Minutes, hours, they all just seemed to slip as fleeting as her thoughts that flicked from one thing to another in perpetual distraction from the here and now
The man was tensing, flecks of sweat and spit spattered her face as she sensed him building to his cum.
She wondered if he had a partner, maybe a wife. She wondered if this is what he was like with her.
He would cum in her arse, telling her what a filthy dirty whore she was. Then he would go, and Carl would take his turn.
The man swore, thrusting hard and holding himself still as his cock twitched and pumped. In her tortured arsehole. He called her a 'disgusting piece of shit whore', as he came inside her, while her eyes followed the coat zipper, along the hem of the dark blue material until it stopped where the hood began. There was something she wanted to remember about the coat.
She woke in pain. A stabbing pain in her abdomen. Movement brought more pain as she tried to sit up, aching pains in her limbs alongside stinging pain from her skin. She was in her bed, the sheets stuck to her skin. The skin pain was from cuts where the blood had dried fast to the cotton, opening anew as she tore herself free. He had cut her. Long slices across her breasts and arms and thighs.
Her head swam as she stood, a wave of nausea passing as she steadied herself. The pain inside her was constant, an aching cramp, deep in her core. Carl was asleep, naked and streaked with her blood, without any cuts of his own.
She made her way unsteadily into the kitchen, sitting heavily onto a plastic chair and grimacing as pain stabbed upwards from her arsehole and vagina. She scrabbled for a cigarette. Her hands shook as she managed to light it, breathing in deeply as the tip sizzled and flaired.
When she was younger Ella had watched a film about a girl who could spontaniously combust the world around her, and for months after she had imagined being able to do the same, her head filled with fantasies of her school and foster homes and everyone in them burning around her.
She stared at the quarter full bottle of vodka and took another shaky draw of her cigarette.
Carls suit was draped over a broken wooden chair next to her bed that doubled as a night stand. Ella watched as the clear water like liquid cascaded over the suit material, soaking into the weave as it flowed to pool on the seat.
She held the lighter to it, watching the flurry of small blue flames lick over the expensive material. She waited a moment as it caught, before dropping the lighter onto the puddled seat.
In the front room she made for the front door, but caught her reflection in the window, naked and raw with a lattice of red across her exposed body. She looked like a horror film. She glanced around for her coat, slipping it on and feeling the weight in the pockets. Her hands slid into them one closing around the smooth slab of her phone, the other curling around the hard plastic handle of the tazer.
The smell of smoke wafted through to her as she stood there, dazed, holding the contents of her pockets.
"WHAT THE FUCK?! YOU FUCKING CRAZY BITCH"
The sound of Carl waking to a smoke filling room as the flames from his burning suit spread up the wall. His anger was usually something that paralysed her, reducing her to a panicking mess, but this time it was different. As if something of the distance had remained within her. She knew she should go. She knew he would be violent. Maybe this time he might really kill her. But running was not the only option.
He came bursting from the bedroom as she pulled the tazer from her pocket, pointing it gun like towards him and pulling the trigger before he had time to even register what it was.
The twin barbs found their mark above his nipple on the right hand, releasing their charge and instantly robbing him of all muscular control.
He dropped, spasticated limbs twitching and jerking, his face a contortion of shock. The website had promised 20 seconds of incapacity, but for Ella it seemed like so much longer. She drank in the scene of her abuser convulsing on her floor infront of her, aware of a surging elation coursing through her.
Upon firing, the coil cartridge had detached from the nose of the taser, leaving her holding what was now a small catle prod. It had three more charges remaining, but she realised she didnt want him to get that close. The moment was shattered by the suddening shrill claxon of the fire alarm bursting into life. The smoke had evidently made its way into the kitchen, and the sound ignited a sudden realisation in Ella that now really was the time to leave.
She made it to the door and out onto the street before she heard him shout. A gutteral roaring cry of rage from a wounded animal. She could hear the alarms from the 3 flats above hers, amidst shouts and cries from her neighbours. It was early. The sun hadn't quite crested the houses further down the street and the lamp posts were yet to switch off, adding their florescence to the cold blue light of the morning.
"YOU FUCKING BITCH!"
He came careering out of the flat behind her as she fled into the empty road. The tarmac gritty and cold beneath her bare feet. She knew she couldnt outrun him so she turned, hoping to stab the twin nubs of the tazer into him as he lunged. But it was to late, his gut punch connected with her midrift, driving the air from her in an explosion of pain, and sending her down hard onto the road. The tazer went skidding to the gutter.
"YOU STUPID FUCKING COW! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" He stood over her naked and streaked with dried blood, fresh red glinting from where two barbs remained hooked in his skin, trailing thin redundant wires.
"I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU YOU STUPID BITCH!"
He was raging, wild eyed and unhinged.
"Oy mate!"
The voice came from behind him, unheard by Ella who was still desperately trying to reclaim oxygen.
But Carl heard it. He turned to recieve a punch square in the face.
Realing backwards, he almost lost his footing as he stumbled over Ella, revealing to her the neighbour, in the same tracksuit and trainers, standing side on in some kind of fighting stance.
Carl swore and lunged at her, swinging his arm wildly, fist clenched, but she seemed to move like water, deftly swaying out of its way and stepping in to bring her knee up hard into his stomach. As he doubled over she brought her elbow down onto his back, stepping away again to let him sprawl face first onto the road. Ella stared up at her rescuer filled with a sense of relief and awe that quickly turned to anger.
No. No not this! This was her fight. She needed to do this. She pulled herself to her feet, pushing away the pain that surged from her core through every fibre of her body. Carl was drawing himself onto his hands and knees, turning his head to the side to look at Ella as she stood over him. She pulled her fist back and up, before driving it downwards. Her hand, in that moment was the sum of a life time of fists, countless fists that had pummelled, futile and misdirected, into the walls and doors of her childhood, and all the fists that went unspent, the clenched inpotency of rages that never had an outlet. All of the pain and fear and anger channelled into one moment and one person, who was, at once, every piece of shit she had ever known.
It connected with his temple. His arms and legs buckled instantly. His head hit the road with a sickening crack.
He didn't move.
"Fucking hell! Look at you girl!"
Ella looked up from Carl's prone body to her neighbour who was staring at her in alarm.
"Can I call an ambulance?"
Ella.looked back at Carl
"For you, not him!"
Ella was aware that others were gathering around them.
"No. Its ok." she replied, fishing her phone from her pocket.
Her gaze moved to the flats as she held the phone to her ear. Thick black smoke was curling out of her flat window now.
"Emergency services. Can I take your name."
"Ella"
"Thank you. What emergency service are you needing Ella?"
Her mind wandered again, following the smoke upwards to the brightening morning sky. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day.
"Hello Ella? I can connect you to police, paramedics, or the fire service. What's your emergency"
Ella felt the energy slipping from her as she stood there. As if every aching muscle in her body was melting away. Her vision swam and she was aware of her neighbour stepping towards her, arms outstretched as if to catch her.
"All of them." She managed to say.
End of chapter 2
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Last edited by Malady on Thu Oct 08, 2026 11:39 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Claire
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