Giving It Up to My Bully

At one point I started to feel a lot of discomfort, probably from being fucked too long by his big cock that I wasn't used to. It made me feel a little nauseous and I started whimpering a little incoherently, and Sean chuckled, mocking my pain. Fortunately, I could tell he was close to finishing. I asked him not to come inside me, but he did anyway.

"God, you're a fun little fuck," he said when it was over. That comment stung, because it seemed dismissive and denigrating. I guess I had thought that having sex with Sean would change his attitude toward me. I wanted so much to win him over that I was tempted to get him hard again, but by that time it was getting late and I had to get back home. I hadn't told Chris I was going to be late, so I quickly got dressed. Then I realized that my car wasn't there because I had driven over with Sean, so I had to ask Sean to drive me back to work so I could pick up my car. Sean initially said, "Call a cab," and his callousness gave me a moment of panic, but then he said, "Kidding, kidding, I'll drive you."

He dropped me off without anything more than a "Later, babe!", and in retrospect, I realize that his uncaring and insensitive behavior was something he purposely put on to make a point, the point being that I was nothing to him than someone to fuck. At the time, it confused and worried me. I guess I wanted the treatment I usually got from men after sex. Sean, on the other hand, wanted to make sure that he treated me like someone he just met on Tinder for a one-nighter.

I remember feeling frantic and discombobulated driving home. I was a little panicked about being late, but mainly I was kind of freaked out about the sex I'd just had. I didn't think this at that time, but I had been brutalized over a couple of hours. The sex was consensual, but the physical battering I'd been subjected to was not. Not only did I feel physically beaten up, I felt disrespected and verbally abused and humiliated. I don't think I'd ever been in a situation where a man wasn't so much interested in making love to a woman as enjoying himself and impressing a woman with his sexual prowess and physical power.

I have to admit, I was completely aroused and I was more excited about sex than I had been in a long time. Being fucked by someone so strong and physical was something that is a huge turn on for me, although that was something I found hard to admit to myself. Just putting my arms on his muscular shoulders was a sensual encounter I hadn't had in a while. Whenever I thought about his body, I wanted Sean to fuck me again. But when I thought about how he had called me a "fun little fuck," it made me a little sick.

I remember coming home and seeing the dinner plate Chris had left out for me, now cold. I took a couple of bites, then jumped in the shower before coming to bed. In the shower, I could feel that not only was my vagina incredibly tender, so were the areas around there, as if it had been bruised from the pounding I took from Sean. I think any one of the body blows I absorbed could have easily broken a bone or two. Once out of the shower, I said something to Chris about a late-breaking story, and hoped he wouldn't ask what it was.

After the painful and somewhat humiliating experience that I had at Sean's place, you would think that I would have done everything to avoid him, but in fact, I woke up early the next morning and drove back to his place before work, even though I can't think of anything more degrading than to crawl back to a scene of a crime, basically begging someone to fuck you again. I can't really explain my decision, which was even more out-of-character than my initial decision to sleep with him. Maybe I thought that I could redeem my impulsive decision to sleep with Sean by proving that it wasn't just a one-night stand. Or maybe I thought I could make Sean love me and treat me better through sex. But now I also think I just wanted to submit to him because I was drawn to the degradation that he had just put me through.

Sean answered the door in just his boxers and said, "Back for more, I see." I think I was disappointed that he didn't immediately embrace me and kiss me passionately. Instead, he dropped his shorts, and had me blow him before he led me back to his bedroom. As I walked I wondered why I was back there. Standing by his bed, I pulled him toward me and reached up to kiss him. I guess I wanted our encounter to resemble something closer to what I was used to. But he suddenly picked me up and again flung me onto the bed, with enough force that my head struck the wooden headboard.

"Strip," he ordered, and I complied. I felt tears welling up, knowing what I was in for. I quietly berated myself for having gone over there. And yet, even on the verge of tears, I could feel myself becoming turned on by his mistreatment of me. Having this asshole telling me to take off my clothes so he could use my pussy was actually arousing for me.

He climbed on top of me and forced my legs apart. I asked him if he could put on a condom, and he refused. He fucked me for a good 30 minutes. I could feel his cock hitting something, presumably my cervix. At least this time he made me come, the first time in a long time that I had come during sex without touching myself. Before we headed off to work, he said to me, "Sex with co-workers is always the best." One problem with coming back for more was that I signaled to him that I was okay with what happened, and that I was submitting myself to be used in any way he wanted.

To be honest, as I indicated earlier, I had slept with guys like Sean before. Although I think of myself as the kind of person who doesn't sleep with bad boys or do one-night stands, I get involved in my share of these situations. Actually, "slept with" is such a euphemism here, it would be more accurate to say I've been fucked by guys like Sean before, because let's face it, that's what happens when you talk to a lacrosse player at a frat party or get into a conversation with a guy in a bar at midnight. But then afterwards, I conveniently repress what happened and go on with my life pretending those things never happened. It's funny how even as I start a relationship with a guy I actually like, I'm not eager to jump into bed with them, but with certain men that I don't even want to be in a relationship with, I can't wait to spread my legs for them. I might have saved myself a lot of trouble if I explored the psychological issues behind my behavior instead of avoiding them.

Over the next few weeks, we drove to his apartment from work on numerous occasions so he could fuck me. He would come by, sit on my desk, and say, "Hey, let's go and fuck." I felt powerless to decline. It was like I had surrendered to him, and there was no point in resisting. I won't deny that many times, I wanted him to fuck me. There was something about what he was doing to me that was deeply stimulating. But at the same time, I was starting to hate him. Strangely enough though, the hate in turn fueled more sexual arousal.

We sometimes went to my and Chris's apartment and had sex on our bed. He seemed to get off on that. One day Sean drove me home after work, and insisted on having sex in the car in front of our apartment. He fucked me once in a bathroom stall at work. One night after everyone had left, he fucked me on my desk.

He made me blow him in the office stairwell several times. Each time, he would pull out before he came, and shoot his come on my top or on my face and hair. That was totally uncalled for, and yet, those blowjobs were something that really got me going. I was so hot after sucking his cock at the office that I'm ashamed to say I would have to run to the restroom and get myself off afterwards. Those were the only times I ever masturbated in a public place.

Blowing someone always got me sexually excited, but there was something about these incidents that heightened the titillation. I couldn't figure out if it was the danger element or the coercive nature of the blowjob in the stairwell that got me so aroused. He would take me into the stairwell, and tell me to suck his cock. The first time, I refused, and he grabbed me by the hair, and forced me down to my knees. I pulled out his cock and started to blow him, but after a few minutes he had me by the hair as he repeatedly jerked my head back and forth on his cock until he came. This scene repeated each time we went into the stairwell.The arousal from these episodes was so dizzying, I would stagger to the restroom and lock myself in a stall and get to work on my clit.

A few times I met him at his place after dinner, lying to Chris that I had to go back to the office. Usually, it was because I had been summoned by Sean, but one evening, I just had to have him fuck the shit out of me. I was in such a state I thought I might crash the car driving over to his place.

He refused to wear a condom, despite my requests that he do so. After the first couple of times we had sex, I stopped at the CVS and bought a box of extra large condoms but Sean wouldn't put one on, saying hey, it's your problem, you're a big girl. The last time I brought it up, he said, "Just tell Chris it's his kid. He'll make a good dad." I had to go on the pill, and I was lucky I didn't get pregnant from the times he came inside me before I went on the pill.

During that time, much to my dismay, Sean did things to show people that we were having sex, like once pulling me onto his lap in front of colleagues or putting his arm around me in a possessive fashion. People in the office raised their eyebrows at me, but I tried to pretend it was all a joke. I shudder to think how many people he may have told. Sean was always talking about his conquests to his friends.

I remembered the time that Sean slept with Anna, an art director at the newspaper who was considered one of the most attractive and unattainable women at the paper. He made sure everyone knew about it. Once when someone mentioned how beautiful Anna is, Sean said, "Even if you're the most beautiful woman in the world, you still moan like a little girl. Trust me, I know." I worried that he might be saying to his friends something like: "Hey, you know that Chinese girl on the Metro desk? I fucked her on her desk and she squealed like a pig." Or more likely: "You know that Asian chick that sits next to me? She loves to suck dick. She can't get enough of it." Or: "You know, it turns out all Kristen needed was some good dick. She's real friendly now." These scenarios would play in my head, and it would drive me crazy and fill me with regret.

Despite the public displays of affection, Sean didn't seem that interested in doing things like kissing or hugging that showed any genuine affection when we were alone. Also missing were any words of love or concern. I didn't really want those things from him, but he seemed intent on shoving in my face the idea that he only thought of me as a sex object.

As for me, sometimes while we were having sex, I would tell Sean that I loved him. I know that seems like a bizarre thing to do, given that he clearly didn't love me, and I don't think I loved him. I'm also not the kind of person who says things like that during sex. I used to think that I said that because I wanted him to love me, and in a way I did, but now I realize that there was a different motivation, too. I think now that I loved submitting to Sean, showing how much I could debase myself, and telling him that I loved him while he pounded into me turned me on. For me, it was the equivalent to screaming, "Use my worthless cunt!" or "Fuck my Asian pussy!", but worse because it didn't come across as role playing. If you think about it, saying "I love you" to your abuser is probably the most masochistic thing you could do.

On the other hand, as crazy as it seems, I craved Sean's approval in some way, and I thought that sex was the way to get it. I don't think that I fully understood what I was up against. I mean, I wasn't that sexually adventurous or experienced, and he was never going to be blown away by having sex with me like I thought. So I don't think I was ever going to be able to win him over using sex. What was going on in his mind was the opposite. I think that my appeal to Sean was what he perceived to be my innocence and inexperience. What he was getting off on was doing crazy shit to a shy and innocent Asian girl who he thought hadn't done most of the stuff he was doing to her.

For a long time, I did just about everything Sean wanted me to do, and had sex in all the places he wanted to have sex. I did put my foot down once, though, sort of. One night, driving back to drop me off at the office, we saw some prostitutes waiting on the sidewalk for customers.

"Sometimes they take their customers to that alley over there for blowjobs," Sean said. As we drove by the alley, I saw a prostitute on her knees, obviously administering oral sex.

"Oh my god," I said. "There's someone there now."

Sean stopped the car. "What if I drop you off on Third Street so you can stand with the other whores, and I'll drive by and pick you up, and you give me a blowjob in the alley?"

"No!" I said, emphatically. "I'm not doing that."

"Why not?" Sean asked.

"Somebody might see me," I replied. "Someone else could pick me up. I could get arrested."

"You're not going to get arrested," Sean said. "It's just some harmless fun. Don't you want to be able to say that you once gave someone a blowjob in hooker's alley?"

"No, you just want to say you got a blowjob from me in hooker's alley," I said. "Besides, I know you're going to fuck with me and make me stand there for half an hour before you pick me up." Sean leaned over me and opened the passenger's side door, but I refused to get out of the car.

"You know me so well," Sean said, laughing. "I was actually going to call a cop friend to harass you."

"You asshole!" I cried out.

"No, no, no," he said. "I'm just kidding, I wouldn't have done that."

I thought to myself, the problem here is that I'm already his fucking whore. Then he pulled the car into the alley anyway.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"You're going to blow me here," he said. "We'll just pretend you've been standing there for half an hour and I finally came and picked you up."

"Well, I'm not blowing you here," I said.

He undid his pants, and pulled his cock out. "We're not going anywhere until you do."

Nearby, a hooker walked close enough to look inside the car. It made me feel incredibly anxious. With an exasperated sigh, I lowered my head to his crotch and started sucking on him. We had already had sex, and his cock had a pungent smell of both his sex and mine.

Because he had already come recently, it took me a while to make him come. The whole time I was sucking his cock, he said raunchy and demeaning things. And he opened his window so that the women down the street could hear him.

"Oh yeah, you little Asian whore, that's the way to do it. You're good at your job. I can tell you've had a lot of practice. Where was it that you worked before, the massage parlor? You fucking Asians really know how to suck dick, you know? I would fuck you if you weren't so skanky. You're a nice little piece of ass, though, you know that? I bet you used to be nice and tight until you got into this business. After you're done, I want to watch you blow your next customer." It was amazing how torrents of abuse would flow out of him in a never-ending stream.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, he came.

"Thanks, babe," he said, turning on the ignition.

"Fuck you," I said.

"Oh, that's feisty," he said. "If I didn't just come, I'd fuck you good and hard."

It seemed clear to me now in retrospect that Sean was always trying to overwhelm me and push me to do things I wasn't comfortable with. It was like he was trying to keep me off balance and not knowing what to expect. I've had rough sex with guys like Sean before, but for the most part, I'm more used to having sex with very respectful partners who always made sure I was comfortable with what we were doing. This was the opposite of that. I don't know if it was so much a strategy or if there was something about me that made Sean want to do abusive things to me. I asked my husband if he thought I invited abuse from men. He said he didn't think so, but that some men might get off on trying to push the limits with a woman who seems innocent and prudish, like me, to try to shock them. It's like a woman trying to tame a bad boy, except it's a bad boy trying to break a nice girl.

I feel like we went through a lifetime of sex in a relatively short time, with Sean constantly pushing the envelope, trying, I think, to push me over the edge. He once fucked me on the floor of his bathroom. I was naked, and face down on the cold, hard tile floor. I told him it was uncomfortable and I wanted to get up, but he only held me down harder and continued to fuck me. He had his whole weight on me so that I couldn't move, and even pressed my face down hard against the floor.

"Do you want to get up?" he asked, after a while.

"Yes, please," I whimpered.

"If you're cold, come in the shower," he said. He helped me into the shower, then turned on the water.

"What the hell!" I screamed. "That's freezing cold!"

But Sean held me so that I couldn't get out of the way of the cold blast, or turn off the water. The water hit me full on the face and chest. After a minute or so, with me screaming hysterically at the top of my lungs, he turned off the water, then he dragged me back to the floor still cold and now dripping wet and put me on my back and entered me again. I was still somewhat hysterical, and he seemed to get off on fucking me while I was upset.

"Doesn't the floor feel warmer now?" he asked.

"Fuck you," I said. I tried slapping him, but he grabbed my arms. "Get off of me!" I yelled at him.

"Be nice," Sean said as he slammed his weight fully into me, crushing me into the hard floor. "You gonna cry? Go ahead and cry, it'll make the sex hotter."

I was miserably cold and felt tears welling up in my eyes, but I didn't want Sean to see me cry, so I kept myself from crying. In retrospect, it was a stunning display of sadism. I think that Sean used sex as a form of punishment all the time. The way he talked about sex, it was never about pleasure or love, but about how "hard" he was going to fuck me, how much it was going to hurt, or how I was going to beg him to stop.

I don't know exactly what Sean was after with me. I don't believe that the way he treated me was the way he treated all women. Sean was a dick, but he was savvy enough to know most women wouldn't put up with the abuse he gave me. I've seen him with other women, and he didn't treat them the way he treated me. One thing I've had to face up to in thinking about this is that he singled me out for this abusive behavior and that he did it deliberately. I wonder to what extent he wanted to abuse me because I was submissive and Asian or whether he thought I wanted to be abused. The other truth I've encountered recently for the first time is that I wanted to be abused by him, to be made to feel insignificant, to be reduced to nothing but a sex toy.

I think that the things he did to me, and the things he said to me during sex displays a desire to dominate as well as to denigrate me, as if it was more about power than about sex. They always say that rape is not about sex, it's about power, and even though this was not rape, there were elements of force in our relationship, as if Sean wanted to assert some control over me. Since we started work at around the same time, Sean and I were always competing for assignments. We were generally on par, with some editors preferring my writing and others preferring Sean's. But Sean was a naturally competitive person, and somehow that made its way into our sexual encounters.