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.