Anger Ch. 01

"say your word if you want to stop, understand Jane?"

"Oh, I understand. You think you can..." I slap her face, it's really just a tap, but that's all that's needed. She gasps, putting her hand to her cheek and taking a step back. She looks stricken, but that expression doesn't stay on her face long. She yells,

"YOU CAN'T JUST..." I strike her again. Her face colors, and shaking with rage she charges - a swarm of ferocious flailing limbs. I retreat into the living room keeping just out of reach. She rushes after, she fights with emotion, which is my major advantage, nevertheless, I wonder why I don't have a word.

She does a lightening quick snap kick aimed at my groin, but I sidestep just in time. I keep moving out of reach, building her frustration. I move backwards across the living room toward the hall to my bedroom. She relentlessly stalks. I walk through the threshold to my bedroom backwards with Jane in pursuit still seeking to score a hit. She pauses just inside the room looking about warily sensing a trap.

In her distraction I step in very close, then jump back out. She throws a panicked punch into air, which puts her off balance. I grab her reaching hand and pull while throwing my leg in front of hers. She falls forward on her hands. I leap on her back before she can evade me.

She makes a series of chuffing noises while trying to lift herself with me on her back. I use the opportunity to slide my arms under hers and around her neck for a full-nelson. She screams her rage, twisting and turning, trying to free herself. She struggles while I conserve my strength, just keeping my weight squarely on top. Her warm bunching and relaxing muscles excite me. My penis is lodged between the two large round muscles of her buttocks. The sensation of her struggles is more than a little arousing. My nose is buried in her hair. It tickles, but I appreciate the fruity fragrant silkiness of it.

"Let me up." She says through her panting.

"No." I say low in her ear

"Let me up, now," she tries to increase the volume, but she doesn't have the wind.

"You know how you can get out of this.'

"You'll never break me, you bastard," she says defiantly.

"You're stronger than I thought."

"Do you always beat-up the women you're going to sleep with?"

"You're the first."

"I'm curious why you picked me for the honor."

"You seem to need it."

"I don't need anything from you." She squirms and only succeeds in thrilling me.

"Just stick your dick in me, so I can go home."

"I want more."

"What? We both know you want to fuck me."

"So you know how I feel about you?"

"That or you have a restless salami where your dick should be." I snicker in response.

"I can't believe this! I pick the one guy on the beach who doesn't jump at the chance for a free lay without attachments." She takes a deep breath and continues. "If I promise to respect you in the morning and leave some cash to buy dinner, will you fuck me?"

"Where did you get your scar?" I ask.

"What scar?" She replies confused.

"The one you can easily hide with a small change to your hair style, but you don't."

"Why should I hide my scar?" She challenges.

"You shouldn't, I just thought someone like you would."

"Someone like me?"

"Yeah, someone like you. Someone who is welcomed in polite society. Someone who assumes the air of perfection, without fault, in public. Someone who wouldn't risk their carefully honed appearance to play in the filthy ocean. Someone who..."

"I don't assume airs. I'm sorry you're intimidated by me, but it's really not my problem and I go swimming three times a week in the ocean, I love the ocean." Shocked I say,

"Why didn't you..."

"I wanted to get laid, you idiot. I didn't want a head full of soaking hair, it would take hours to dry." I quietly ponder her shaming words. Apparently she isn't the only one putting people in little boxes.

"Now are you going to fuck me? It may seem hard to believe but laying on your carpet with you on my back is not comfortable, much as you seem to like it."

"I'm afraid I want your surrender." I whisper low in her ear then turns away not to damage her ear-drum,

"SAY YOUR WORD!" I yell in challenge,

"FUCK YOU ASSHOLE! HELP! HELP! HELP!" she screams into the carpet. While my house is fairly sound resistant, I'd have much explaining to do if cops showed up at this particular moment.

I shift my hold and she responds the way I suspected; she resists with all she has, thrashing wildly, her yelling forgotten. Her struggles start to slack, so I reposition which incites a fresh wave of resistance. I repeat this until she can no longer resist. She gasps for air sweating profusely. My body and the carpet trap her body heat adding to her misery.

Keeping her in a Full-Nelson, I plant my feet to either side of her and lift her, like dead weight, to standing. We stand in front of my dresser topped with a mirror. I look her over in the reflection, beads of sweat cling to her lip and forehead, her mouth is open gulping air, Her bathing suit is askew and I can see the barest darkening of her nipple. There are carpet burns on her forearms and knees. Offhandedly I think a bruise on her bottom would complete the picture and give her fiancé something to think about.

I complete my survey and feel her intelligent, calculating, startling blue eyes blazing at me in the mirror. What a pleasing face she has, angry, in a full-nelson, sweaty with mussed hair but...

"You know, without the scar you are perfect, and with the scar you are heartbreakingly beautiful." She looks away breaking eye contact.

"Are you happy with what you've done to me?" She asks panting.

"Say your word."

"Do whatever you want to me, I won't say my word." I nod my head thinking about the world inside those words.