Alexandra Humbled

Alexandra was having a bad day, but she had no idea how much worse it was going to get.

Alexandra Wayne, by all appearances, had a perfect life. The daughter of a wealthy hedge fund manager, Alexandra grew up enjoying all of the benefits of her father's wealth, private school, equestrian training, vacationing in her family's summer home in the Hamptons, and on and on. Her family took great pride in the fact that they were "old money." Her father spent his weekend yachting at the exclusive Long Island Yacht Club, one of the most prestigious, but restrictive, country clubs in America. Her mother busied herself with charity luncheons and, of course, her duties as president of the local chapter of Daughters of the American Revolution.

Alexandra was both beautiful and smart. She excelled in athletics and in the classroom. The valedictorian of her prep school, Alexandra went on to be a standout student at Princeton and then at Harvard Medical College. A gifted mind, no one was surprised when she earned a coveted surgical residency at Boston General Hospital.

But many of those who worked and lived closest with Alexandra knew that she was different. While her medical school classmates bonded into a family through the long hours and demanding schedules, Alexandra remained arrogant, aloof, even unforgiving. Even her name, Alexandra, was a point of contention. She bristled at any attempt by anyone to shorten it, her eyes lighting with angered for anyone who tried to call her Alex, Lexi or, worst of all, Ally. She knew an Ally once. She was a "new money" Jew from Long Island who was accidentally made her roommate during a three week summer school program at Brown. After three weeks, she couldn't stomach the girl's Long Island twang, nouveau riche fashion sense, and general "smarminess." Although barely 16 at the time, Alexandra crossed Brown off of her list of colleges. If they would let one of "them" in, plainly it was not selective enough for her.

To be clear, Alexandra did not view herself as a racist. Throughout her education, she encountered many minorities. She understood that Jewish interests in the pharmaceutical and medical fields always ensured that there would be many Jewish med school students and affirmative action opened slots for African Americans and Latinos. Many of these students were pleasant enough, a few were even smart. But Alexandra firmly believed that she would rise above all of them. And, while it had nothing to do with race or religion, Alexandra did. She was the top med school student and now, the top resident in the top department in the top training hospital in the United States.

Boston General, while excellent, is a regional hospital and its doors are open to the public. As surgical resident, Alexandra would be called down to the Emergency Room whenever a surgical consult was required. In her first week alone, she endured eight consults for "GSW," gunshot wounds. She would think to herself, these fucking gangbangers, if only they were smart enough to at least shoot each other correctly. In the Hamptons, she could hit a clay skeet pigeon every time with her dad's Beretta shotgun. These gangbangers couldn't even kill a guy five feet away with a damn AK47.

Late one evening, Alexandra received another call for a surgical consult in the ER. It was her third of the night. Tired and angry, Alexandra burst into the examining room. "What did the little gangbangers do this time," she shouted. She railed on and on about how "these people" can't take care of themselves, how "these people" were killing each other, and how much of a burden on society "these people" were. In her anger, Alexandra never bothered to notice that the patient's older brother was sitting in the corner of the examining room, witnessing her diatribe as his brother lie dying.

It turned out that the patient, while poor and black, was not injured in gang violence. A good student in a local public school, he was injured by a forklift while working to pack supplies for a planned church aid mission to Haiti. Despite everyone's efforts, including Alexandra's, his injuries were too severe and he did not survive. His brother watched Alexandra work tirelessly to save him, but it didn't matter. All he saw was another white woman who didn't give a shit about a dying nigger.

After the patient died, things got bad for Alexandra. While no one suggested that her medical care was anything but perfect, the nurses in attendance complained about her racial insensitivity. She was made to endure harsh criticism from the supervising physician in charge of the ER, a doctor she believed to be inferior, and, worse yet, she was made to issue a public apology. She choked on her words apologizing person by person to every physician's assistant, nurse, and aide who had been within earshot of her rant. Alexandra's cheeks burned with anger and embarrassment at the mere thought of apologizing to the same fucking people who wipe asses and clean bedpans for a living.

After her public humiliation, Alexandra retired to the surgeon's lounge to eat her meal and cool off. Unfortunately, the meal she packed of boneless chicken and a quinoa salad had been stolen by some selfish prick, another surgeon too lazy or stupid to arrange his own meal. Nauseated by the vending machine options, Alexandra decided to skip her meal altogether and clear her head with a run. She changed out of her scrubs and into her jogging clothes, a sports bra and sweatshirt, shorts, and her favorite Nike sneakers. As she left through the door, the black security guard attempted to intercede. Not recognizing her to be a doctor, the guard warned, "Excuse me, Miss. It is late at night and not safe for you to go running through this neighborhood."

Alexandra snapped back, "You worry about yourself. I know how to take care of me!"

Alexandra set out for a run along the cool Boston streets. The air was chilly and the streets damp from yet another one of Boston's infamous rains. Lost in her own rage, Alexandra was completely oblivious to her surroundings. She never even took notice as she left the relatively safe neighborhood surrounding the hospital and began running through smaller, darker, more ominous streets. Worse yet, she failed to take note that in this part of town, the roads were older and did not always run along the same grid as the rest of the city. It was really easy to get lost, even just a few blocks from the safety of the hospital district.

In the dark of the night, Alexandra stood out; a tall, blonde woman jogging through the streets past burned out buildings and abandoned storefronts. She didn't care. The night air was cold and burned in her nose and in her lungs. The aching felt good. She was alone – without her med school classmates, nurses, orderlies, patients, or anyone – with only her iPhone playing her favorite music. It gave Alexandra something else to think about, something to take her mind off of the very public, ass-chewing she had gotten.

It wasn't until she had made several wrong turns that Alexandra realized was lost, really fucking lost. She tried to check her location on her iPhone, but her long run exhausted the battery. She began to walk the streets quickly, hoping to find anything that might help her find her way back to the hospital. The fine, blonde hairs on her neck bristled as Alexandra grew more frightened. She knew that she was in a place she didn't belong. A very fucking bad place.

As Alexandra began to panic, she saw a sole figure walking slowly on the other side of the street. Although she could not discern any features, she recognized from the silhouette, that the figure was that of a man, approximately six feet tall and muscular. As the figure walked under a street light, Alexandra could make out the dark grey hoodie, track pants and Nike sneakers that he was wearing. Unfortunately for her, she could not see the dark reddish-brown dried blood stains on his clothes.

Now in the throes of a full-fledged anxiety attack, Alexandra made the very bad decision to seek help from this hooded figure. She knew all about the gangbangers in this part of town. But she knew that they traveled in packs of three or four. This sole person could not be a gangbanger, she told herself. After all, she didn't see a posse. She began to jog toward the person, shouting politely, "Excuse me! Excuse me! Can you help me?" The person did not even stop or look back in her direction. But that did not stop Alexandra.

Alexandra caught up to the figure under a street lamp. From behind the person, she spoke, "Umm, hey, I'm sorry to bother you. I was wondering if you could help me. I'm lost. I need to get back to the hospital. I'm late for my shift. Please, I'm a doctor."

He stopped walking and slowly turned to her, pulling his hoodie back slowly. As he turned, he spoke for the first time, "So, you really want help from one of 'these people.'" In the harsh street light, Alexandra could see the dried blood stains on his clothes and shoes. Her eyes widened as she realized who he was – the older brother of the teenager who had died in her care just hours earlier. His eyes were dark, cold and filled with anger.

Alexandra took a step back, preparing to run, but before she could, he grabbed her by the sweatshirt and threw her hard against a parked car. She slammed into the side of the car before falling to the ground. As she scrambled to her feet, he grabbed her by the hair. She began to beg. "Please, let me just go. I won't say anything. I just want to go. I'm so sorry about your brother. I did everything I could to save him. I swear."

"Shut the fuck up." His voice was calm and cold. "It's too late for that. You fucked up. Now, you're going to pay."

Alexandra tried to run again, but he grabbed her. In her struggle, all she managed to do was help him pull her sweatshirt over her head. The cold air on her sweaty body and her fear caused her body to react physically, involuntarily. Her nipples grew hard and taut under her sports bra. He drew close to her, so close that she could smell the cheap alcohol on his breath. "You are going to be sorry. Very sorry." He struck her again, knocking her to the ground. Lifting her up, he pressed her tight against the parked car. In that chilling voice, he spoke again. "You are in a lot of trouble, bitch. He was a good kid, trying to help people. But you didn't give a fuck. Now, you are going to wish that you had. You are going to hurt bad, real fucking bad."

Alexandra tried to fight him off, but he was too strong. With muscular hands, he pulled her sports bra until the fabric gave way, the material tearing, leaving bright red marks from the fabric burn. Her breasts were heaving as she sobbed heavily. They stood out firm, her large nipples tight and hard in the cold night air. He reached down and grabbed her running shorts. She kicked and punched at him, but her best blows did not even register. As she squirmed, he worked her shorts off of her ass and slid them down her legs. While Alexandra struggled to keep her legs closed, he grabbed her panties and pulled hard. His fingers punched holes through the material and the fabric cut into her skin until with a tearing sound, her panties gave way and tore from her body. Alexandra was completely naked.

Now, in a complete panic, Alexandra searched up and down the street, her eyes darting back and forth, hoping to find someone, anyone, to help her. But the cold streets were completely deserted. He grabbed her throat in his massive, calloused hands squeezed. He laughed. "You stupid, fucking cunt. You think any of 'these people' are going to come to your rescue. Are you out of your fucking mind?" Unable to breathe, she struggled for air, her face growing redder and redder. Finally, he released her and she collapsed against the parked car.

Once she regained her breath, Alexandra continued to beg and plead for him to let her go. Growing impatient, he flared with anger for the first time. "Enough of this. Just shut the fuck up, bitch. You know what? Get on your fucking knees, whore. Get on your knees and suck my cock."

"No. No. Please"

He slapped her hard across her face, knocking her to the ground. He spoke again. "Get on your fucking knees or I will kill you." His voice was calm and serious. Alexandra sobbed softly as she rose to her knees.

He unbuckled his belt and undid his jeans. He slid them down over his ass and pulled down his boxers, exposing his cock. It was thick and dark. He spoke again, "Suck me, whore." He grabbed a fistful of her blonde hair and pulled her face towards his cock. He pulled her close, close enough that she could smell his scent, a heady, musky smell. "Open your fucking mouth or, so help me, I will fucking kill you. And don't even think of biting me, you fucking cunt."

Trying her best to stifle her sobbing, Alexandra opened her lips and gently allowed his cock to enter her mouth. Without warning, he grabbed the back of her head and jammed his cock into her throat hard. She gagged hard and couldn't breathe. Alexandra shook and struggled until he released her. Once freed, Alexandra coughed hard, spitting and gulping mouthfuls of air. He tightened his fingers in her hair and pulled her back. Better prepared for his onslaught, Alexandra did her best to relax her throat, feeling him push deep into her mouth. Slowly, he began to move back and forth. She could feel his thick head push into her throat. He watched her suck his cock, enjoying the way her neck expanded as he pushed deep into her throat. "Ahhhh, yes. That's how you suck a big, black cock, you nasty whore."

He settled into a rhythm, fucking her face. Alexandra had given up her struggle and just let him use her mouth. She tried desperately to put her mind elsewhere, but time and again she found herself thinking about the thick cock pumping in and out of her mouth, how big it was, how deep he was fucking her throat, and, oh fuck, how good his precum tasted. The fact that part of her was enjoying being made to suck his cock frightened Alexandra. Her mind raced. How could she be enjoying this? He was humiliating her. He was fucking raping her! How? Why? How could she be enjoying this? She struggled to understand her own feelings.

Alexandra's internal struggle came to an abrupt end. Lost in her own thoughts, she barely acknowledged that he had pulled cock out of her mouth and did not hear him instruct her to get up. An open-handed slap to her face that knocked her to the ground once again brought Alexandra out of her own thoughts.

"Don't make me ask you twice, cunt. I said, get your motherfucking ass up, you stupid white whore!"

As Alexandra rose to her feet, she could still feel the stinging in her cheek and mouth. She touched the side of her lip and looked down at the red streak on her fingertips. She licked the trickle of blood from her lip. She steadied herself on her feet. While her mind screamed to run, she was too drained, too physically spent to fight any longer.

He flipped her around so that she was facing the car. She knew what he was going to do and no longer had the strength to fight it. Weakly, she bent at the waist, steadying herself against the car door. She arched her back slightly, lifted herself onto her toes and rotated her hips and pelvis to expose her pussy completely. The cold air against her sweaty cunt felt even colder. But it barely registered in her brain. Alexandra was battered and broken. All that was left was submission, complete and total submission.

Alexandra felt his cock enter her. His large head stretched her lips as he went inside. Once inside, he made no attempt to be gentle. Before her body had a chance to adjust to his size, he grabbed her hips hard and rammed into her, stretching her pussy and slamming into her cervix. She howled in pain, her scream echoing in the deserted street. The pain was excruciating, buckling her knees. But Alexandra steadied herself against the car again. She bit her lip hard as his assault continued. Her body soon became accustomed to his size and rhythm.

As he fucked her, Alexandra could see their reflection in the dirty car window. It startled her. Of course, her own reflection was frightening. She saw her own face, bruised and streaked with mascara, her lip split and scabbed with dried blood. Long gone was that aloof blonde with an air of arrogance. Instead, she saw a woman who had been reduced to an animal, being fucked on the street like a dog.

But his reflection was even more startling. His face was dark and sad. She could feel his loss. In his eyes, she could read his suffering. Without a word, she could read his history on his face. His eyes told her everything. He was barely an adult himself. As a teen without a father, he fell into the wrong crowd. A young leader in a local Boston gang, he bounced in and out of juvenile detention. But somewhere along the way, he had enough. He swore that he would not let his little brother follow his path. More of a father than a brother, he had fought to make sure his brother did not make the same mistakes that he made. The gangs all knew that his brother was off limits. He was going to make sure his brother had the right kind of life even if it was too late for him. He beamed with fatherly pride at his brother's acceptance into UMass. As she read his face, she finally understood the depth of his anguish.

At that moment, Alexandra no longer hated him. Everything in her past was gone. She realized that despite her technical skills, she had not been a real doctor. A doctor heals people with more than stitches or casts. Those were just tools. A true doctor healed people on the inside. Seeing his pain, she wanted to heal him the only way she could – by allowing his rage and pain to flow into her. She wanted, no, needed, him to get his pain out of him.

She began to move in rhythm with him. She tightened her pussy muscles around his cock until he moaned deeply with pleasure. His deep moans were soon matched by her own. He loosened his grip on her hips and began to caress her skin. With each thrust she pushed back into him, allowing him to enter her deeply. Having never allowed any guy to fuck her without a condom, she now responded to the raw, skin-on-skin contact. She began to moan more passionately. She had always been detached during sex, but for the first time ever with every wall broken down, she allowed herself to feel – connected.

She pulled away from him and turned to face him. Without a word, they realized that they both needed this. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he lifted her onto his cock. Pressing her body against the cold metal of the car door, he began to fuck her wildly, passionately. His cock surged in and out of her belly as she squeezed him tightly with her muscles. She could feel everything, every vein and ridge, every bump on his cock. Together, they moaned with abandon, two lifetimes of anger and intolerance literally being fucked out of each of them.

Their pace quickened until the car was rocking with the sheer force of their fucking. She squeezed him tighter and tighter as her orgasm approached. Their mouth met and they kissed deeply, passionately. As he got ready to cum, he pumped his cock into her furiously. As she shook with her own orgasm, he slammed into her and began to cum. She could feel it. Each spurt exploded inside her, filling her with his heat. They remained pressed against each other for several moments until he softened and slid out of her.

Alexandra reached down and picked up the tattered remains of her sports bra to wipe his cum that was running down her thighs. Silently, they dressed. After a few minutes, Alexandra broke the silence. "I am so sorry. I tried to do everything to save him. I swear."

He spoke in a calm voice. "Yeah, I know you did."

"What are you going to do? I mean, ummmm, do you have money to give him a proper funeral?"