The Feminist Story

Traffic had ground to a halt in all four directions. He could see throngs of people crowding the intersection holding signs and banners protesting the cop who killed the baby gentle giant in another city damn near 1,000 miles away, he quickly estimated. It was rush hour Wednesday morning and he what he had difficulty estimating was how so many people, perhaps another 1,000, were so unworried about getting to work. He put it in park and sat back in his seat, sighing with the onset of frustration. He took out his phone and sent a quick text to his boss saying he was going to be late due to some peaceful protesting happening downtown. He hoped the sarcasm would be evident in the otherwise emotionless electronic words. He tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and looked around at all the cars and the people sitting in the cars, everyone wondering what the fuck was going to happen now.

Police had just begun to arrive on scene. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a wispy little white girl in a knee -length dress with a tiny flower pattern with black, worn Doc Martens and a light gray cable corded unbuttoned sweater. Her blonde hair was tied up in a low ponytail and she had stuck a pretty white and pink daisy behind her ear. She was carrying a "We Are All Human" poster walking in circles in the compact parking lot for the East End Café. He snorted at the irony of the little brat protesting the life and death of thugs in front of the bistro where all the pretentious liberals, who paid eight dollars for coffee, sat and judged everyone else's bad decisions in the security of sleek modernity; where everyone wore minimalist frames and the men brazenly wore scarves. Marves. Shaking his head to break his revere, he got out of his truck.

Taking in his surroundings, he walked through the lanes of immobile traffic. Casually making his way towards East End, he thought it might be fun for a moment to blend himself in with the protesters, see what it felt like to exercise his right to peaceful protest, to become part of collective action, you know, make a difference in the lives of The People. For taste, he raised both hands in the air as he walked up the sidewalk and into the smaller crowd milling the front of the café. He noticed a sign on the door stating that they were, in fact, 'Closed.' Closed at nine thirty in the morning on a Tuesday was odd, indeed, he thought, because the coffee and croissants seemed to be their big draw. He continued circling his way around the crowd, almost swearing he noticed somewhat of a racial divide between the protesters themselves, with white people and black people even staying in their own little protesting groups here and there, but scattered about the area. He bumped into the wisp holding the sign.

"Oh, excuse me," he said, reaching for her arm. "Sorry. There's just so many people out here this morning."

"Yeah," she said defensively, deliberately taking her arm from him. "It's our right to protest."

"So I've heard." He paused as the processed the immediately haughty response. "I can't believe the jury returned a not guilty. I thought for sure they'd send him to prison."

She looked back at him, still holding her sign and walking. He followed her, with the helpless look that it was because the current of the crowd was carrying him.

"Yeah," she said with contempt again. "No one deserves to be shot down in the streets. Especially at the hands of the police, who are supposed to serve and protect the citizens of America."

"Yes they are," he answered vaguely. "Have you ever had the coffee here?"

"No," she said, annoyance clearly recognizable in her face.

"What?" he asked, leaning in closer to her, pretending not to hear her over the people chanting and carrying on.

"No!" she said louder. He smiled.

"Oh, well, I'd buy you a cup, but they're closed."

"It wouldn't be necessary," she snipped. Oh, grrrrrrr... He thought. He kept his smile about him.

"I hear they only use organic beans from sustainable Fair Trade Mexican farms, and it's supposed to be the best."

She had to stop herself from all out glaring at him. She thought she was picking up a disdainful tone in his cheefulness, but since there was commotion everywhere she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Peace and love was more befitting of a hippie lib protestor anyway, she figured. Everybody has their own character, and hey, who was she to judge this stranger who might just be trying to be nice. Acceptance, man. Lifting her sign in the air, she forced a smile back to him.

"Thanks anyway," she said, briskly changing the subject. "So, this isn't about black and white. It's about human rights." He nodded. "That cop shot that kid, that unarmed kid, and he died in the street like an animal. It's tragic. It was so unnecessary. He didn't have to die." She sounded so emotional over it, like it was her relative that had laid face down in the projects, dying from stupidity.

"You're so right. He didn't have to die," he said. "It's so tragic the child decided to go after the cop and things ended so tragically." Suppressing his amused smile once more at this haughty little imbecilic bitch, he quickly continued. "It's really good you are all here making your opinions heard. Acting, not just sitting around talking, doing nothing. You're really out here making a difference."

Unbeknownst to her, he began to corral her towards the corner of the parking lot, where the café slanted back and butted up against the dry cleaner. He asked if he could hold her sign for a moment. She thoughtlessly handed it over to him and he carried it in the air, joining in with her and the crowd with the "Hands up don't shoot" chant. He forced himself to get into the cause du jour, carrying on ridiculous conversation about unwarranted police brutality. The believability with which he handled the challenge of convincing her he gave a shit about the situation gave his ego a boost. Every logical response was bitten back, every check and checkmate was ignored and he worked the angle of the mob mentality and social justice while also working her steps back towards the farther corner. He still held the sign in front of the both of them. It did a good job of concealing them for the most part. Everyone else was totally enraptured with themselves, with the cause, and nobody looked up when he stepped off and motioned for her to come with him.

"What?" she asked, quickly aware that she was away from the like-minded crowd.

"I just wanted to show you..." And they disappeared from view.

He dropped the sign and tightly grabbed her arm and covered her mouth. He pulled her down the narrow alleyway. She screamed from around his hand and tried to pull her thin arm from his big grip. No one heard her over all the righteous chanting, of course. A perfect pile of cardboard had been dumped and left in the middle of the alley and he dragged her right behind it. The other end of the ally ironically had a tall dumpster for cardboard obstructing any view from the small back parking lot at the opposite end. She jerked and howled into his palm, but was not to avail in his strong grip. He pulled her down onto the cardboard, following her on his knees, sitting on her, pinning her arms to her side. He still kept his hand over her mouth.

"First of all, oh my fucking God, first of all," he said into the back of her head. "That 'kid' died because he reached for the officer's gun! Of COURSE the officer was going to shoot him. It's protocol! The kid made himself an immediate threat." He looked up to the sky and let out a breath. "That's better. Fuck. And now I'm the immediate threat." She squirmed helplessly under his weight, uselessly kicking her legs back and rocking her body. He reached a hand under her shoulder and felt for her breast, small and braless inside her ragged dress. He pulled her head back with the hand around her mouth. As he squeezed the small mound of flesh, he spoke in her ear. "Did you know that dead child robbed a corner store and assaulted the store owner? Right before he was completely unjustifiably shot down in cold blood. Right? Did you know that?" He squeezed the nipple hard as he made his point, so hard he had to force himself stop for the sake of overkill. She squealed sharply from the pain and confusion, unable to speak words on any level.

She laid there on top of the reeking cardboard, unused to the weak feeling sneaking into her consciousness as she realized her little, lithe female body could not make him budge an inch. She could barely squirm and her feet, heavy and tiring in the Doc Martens, couldn't reach his body when she kicked. The pain from the nipple pinch had incapacitated her for a second and she could not think to answer him. Her mind reeled from the sudden change up of dialogue. She had been fooled into thinking he was on her "side." Now she sensed he was going to show her how intensely he disagreed with her. And deep down, she knew the grounds her opinions were based on were shaky and popular opinion at best, but she ultimately just wanted peace and harmony. But paradoxically she also felt that she must fight him before he did anything unthinkable to her on the ground in the alleyway. She felt tears stinging in her eyes and a hard lump forming in the back of her throat as she began to consider her situation and her shrinking options.

"Not only that," he rasped. "I'm a big fan of mindset. The circumstances of a present situation can really change the behavior of how one would normally act. This kid knows he's guilty from the fucking second the cop car pulls up behind him." His fingers let her nipple go and he massaged her chest up to her shoulder, kneading up to the nape of her neck and across to her other shoulder. He felt her tears wet the hand holding her mouth shut, and it made want to smile, and he did: this time a sick smile that she could not see, a smile that made him happy she was finally going to be put in her simpering, foolish place after her lifetime of nonsense-ness, and he might even teach her something. "Conversely" he lectured into her ear, "and this is really interesting, the officer has no idea about the crime this poor child just committed just moments ago." He bent his head down and brought his lips to her exposed shoulder blade. His chin and jaw rough with stubble, he kissed her soft, white skin. He heard her scared little whimpers at his unwanted contact as she realized her rhetoric could not carry through to his one on one improvised debate of sorts.

"I think the worst thing the cop did was tell him to stop walking in the middle of the road. But you know how they do. They know there's a sidewalk there, but they have to be all whatever and walk in the road instead." He continued kissing her exposed back, changing up the sensations he wanted her to feel by nipping her unprotected skin several times, punctuating his lecture with the bites. He felt her respond to the bites as she lay tormented underneath him. She cried out in surprise at the first one, but with the succeeding nips, she silenced herself from showing her pain.

She hated him though. She hated everything he was saying and she couldn't not hear his words as he hissed everything directly into her ear. Her vehement disagreement at him in all things sickened her at her core, as did his apparently racist tongue, grotesquely tasting her skin. The smell of rotten cardboard under her, her stomach turned with disgust for all of those things, too, but also for the pleasurable reaction her body had snuck into her consciousness. There was no doubt the animal inside the vile man had picked up on the first scents of her impending defeat.

Holding her right arm painfully tight to the ground, he said, "I'm going to uncover your stupid little mouth now. You better not scream, and you better not say a damn dumb single fucking thing either. I'm so sick of what has been coming out of your mouth. You are an idiot with the inane things you believe. So keep the fuck quiet." He was hard from being so in control of the situation, of her, and he got a rush from being so demanding and degrading to her. He liked it. When she didn't scream as he released her mouth, her head falling forward, the power he felt increased and his cock grew even bigger. Holding both arms tightly to the ground, he slid down her body pressed his crotch against her thigh. She whined and shook her head in a silent 'no.'

"Yes," he whispered back, grinding against her, over their clothes. "We are talking about mindset here. It can change real quick depending on circumstantial happening."

More tears fell. She felt his hardness pressing into her leg, burning the muscle under her skin. His lips and teeth still teasing down her spine. Her tears reminded her that he was a sick man, using her dignity to somehow prove his point. She struggled against to his hateful words and touches. She couldn't let her resistance start to fade under his imposing, masculine strength. She had spent a good chunk of her adult life fighting for women's rights and the progression of feminism without ever really bothering to know and understand the many gray areas of the word equality.

He removed his right hand, and leaning against the length of her body to keep her immobile, he pulled up the bottom of her dress and slid his hand down over the entire curve of her ass, tracing his fingertip down the crease at the bottom down to where her thighs met. "That's a nice little ass," he remarked crassly. The other side of her ass received the same treatment, his fingertips trailing farther, down to mid-thigh. He slowly slid his hand in around her thigh, cupping her inner leg, pressing his knuckles into the crotch of her panties. He circled his first digit knuckle against the opening of her cunt, sinisterly delighting in the warmth he felt radiate.

"Do you see how the mindset changes," he said.

"No," she grunted, summoning up her strength after her momentary rest and recovery. As she stiffened and twisted her body underneath him, he anticipated her movement and shifted his weight off of her as she moved. He took her arm and pinned it at forty five degrees behind her as she rolled onto her back, and he settled his weight right back down on top of her. Another failed attempt to save herself registered, another whiff of despair was detected. And the bloodletting began.

He pushed her left leg out of its trap and quickly, quite ruthlessly, forced two entire fingers around her panties and deep into her tight and tensed pussy. He felt the shockwaves reverberate against his fingers, and she felt her pussy strain to open for him. He held deep, enjoying the mutual satisfaction he knew they both felt, until he felt her twitch, either in misunderstood pleasure or in a sensory return that would jolt her to flee, neither of them knew which. But he only let off his hold about an inch as she flinched before sinking hard into her again, prompting the shockwaves of acceptance to come again. She refused to moan.

His fingers began to curl gently inside of her, rocking up, stroking her deep. It wasn't long before he heard a squish and felt her juice begin to run down over his fingers and over the palm of his hand in total submission. As he looked at her face, now pleasingly flushed in wanton red, he saw her eyes were closed and her eyebrows were knit closer. Her teeth bit hard on her bottom lip to keep it from quivering. He didn't need to try to read her mind. She felt the ache in her restrained arms competing with the ache she felt in her pussy. With deathly accurate finger strokes deep and strong inside of her, he massaged her into an essence-quaking, shuddering orgasm. She succumbed to her defeat violently, hating herself with each wave, pushing her cunt against him to pull him deeper inside of her. A groan poured from her mouth as she felt her body begin to crave him. He heard her wordless begging.

As she lay in the haze of her orgasm, breathless, she began to take in her surroundings. She saw the ugly brick walls against the beautiful blue sky. Her body was rocked side to side as he lifted off her body. She took in a deep breath as the weight that had been holding her down was suddenly removed. He picked her up by an arm and at the hip and turn her over like a ragdoll. Her dignity was jolted awake with this offensive manhandling. Her body, still limp from her struggle to fight off orgasm once already, was splayed over on her front and then he snatched her up by her hips, lifting her ass up obscenely in the air.

As soon as she felt herself on all fours, she lurched forward in a last ditch attempt at escape. She was only able to move herself half a body length before his reaction time caught her by the leg. He evilly delighted in dragging her back to him, and once in reach, he quickly scooped up both sides of her long hair and pulled her head back hard. He pulled her hair so hard she had to come up off her hands and lean her body back to him in following his grasp. She knew she had made a mistake. He whispered what a bad girl she was as he yanked her head back, his mouth against her ear. His other hand undid his belt and jeans, freeing his cock from its cover. He stroked it against the crack of her ass and rubbed the head of it against the still dripping slit between her legs, allowing her to feel his mass of solid power against her already ringing cunt. He teasingly pushed the head of his cock inside of her, be brought her hand around for her to feel on him what was still left to invade her. She began to shake at the thought of something so large to actually penetrate her.

Her shoulders fell forward. He let her hair go. She fell forward on her hands and shook in fear of the coming pleasure she was sure to like. She again became aware of her surroundings, the dirt under her knees, the stale cardboard smell. But now she stayed there, panting, waiting with an open cunt, silently begging him to fill her with his cock.

He pressed his cock into her, without any more tease. He slid in forcefully, splitting her ego in two pieces, solidifying his part in breaking her. He watched her lower her shoulders to the ground, laying on her chest, opening herself fully to her captor. He felt paroxysm of defeat still coursing through her body, her legs up into her helpless pussy. He held her steady as he began the mutual torture of sliding his cock in and out of her. As she began to know this feeling from him, she could not stop the greedy, slutty moans coming out from deep within. She could not stop moving her hips in synch with his. She could not imagine ever wanting this feeling of full contentment to ever go away. She felt the volcano of anger and spite that had been inside of her collapse on itself, never to be the point of contention again. The in and out rhythm his cock had taken on slowed to a deeper grind. She squirmed under him as she fought to take him all in. He rubbed her ass with one hand as he pulled her hip into his lap. He slipped the hand on her ass up over her hip, and down, to run circles on her clit as his cock stuffed her slutty pussy full. She was back in his lap again, shaking on his cock, her new favorite place to be. Her little involuntary jumps he infused into her were enough to make her start to cum around him again. He rubbed, she twitched on him and she came hard, her muscles clenching him gratefully.

He guided her forward again, so that she was shakily waiting on her hands and knees in a fog as she came to once more.

"I want you to lean down on your shoulders with your ass up in the air," she heard him say. She gingerly laid her shoulders on the ground, on the dirt, her ass in the air. She obeyed him without a thought about it. "Spread your legs more." He reached out to her and collected the juice visibly coating her pussy and inner thighs. She jumped at his touch. She waited for him to please fill her pussy again, but he didn't.