Hate Fuck Buddies Pt. 02

The weed edibles were still going strong in her system when she made it home. She'd endured sneers, snide jokes, even gropings as she'd bussed back from her hate-fuck with Warren Hayes.

She replayed it over and over in her mind; being pressed up against the cold glass of a motel window, displaying her naked body with only a Batwoman mask to save her from total exposure. She felt equal parts furious and ashamed of her intense orgasm whilst she'd been ravished by a man old enough to be her father, who despised everything about her politics and considered her an inferior species because of them.

The worst part was that she was aroused thinking of it. She wished he'd gone further, that he'd made her feel utterly bereft of self-respect and pride. The feeling did not leave her when she sat disheveled and demoralized on the bus. She was too subdued to fight back when strange men groped her body as she made her way home. Each one of them had Warren's smirk, whispered with his voice, pinched her with his strong fingers.

She managed to keep her dignity for about ten minutes when she re-entered her home. Then she promptly stripped naked, lay on her bed, and took out her strongest vibrator. She had writhed on the bed in the grips of a hazy lust that always accompanied her when she was high. She cursed Warren Hayes, the random men who objectified her on a daily basis, and herself most of all for this paradoxical and hypocritical desire for such negative treatment.

It always happens this way, Brynn thought after her third orgasm. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her body was slick with sweat, and she felt more spent than she'd felt in a long time.

Slowly, she sat up to look at herself in the mirror. She looked as dirty and disheveled as she felt. She couldn't tell if there was more anger or disgust in the look on her face. A fire smouldered in her eyes, and she forgot how long she stared before the phone rang.

She was still high, and instantly frantic at the notion of someone finding out what she'd done. She quickly picked up the phone and tried to sound as normal as possible. "Yeah?"

There was a low voice on the other end. It had always irked her to hear it, but now she shuddered, unable to comprehend the mess of emotions running through her.

"Still thinking about it?"

"Fuck you," she whispered. "How did you get my number?"

Warren laughed. "You don't remember giving it to me? How fucking high are you?"

Brynn tried to recall when that had been during their tryst, but her recollection was already hazy.

"By the way," he added smugly, "you forgot your panties in the motel room. Or didn't you notice that either?"

Brynn blushed deeply, wondering where her panties were now. She wondered what he was going to do with them. The thought that he might show them to her mother filled her with sudden panic.

"You must be used to leaving panties behind if you don't notice. Or is just 'cause you're a stoned bimbo?"

Brynn made a choked noise, caught between an indignant exclamation and a cry of stupefaction. Forcing herself to calm down, she spoke in a whisper, as if she might be overheard. "What do you want?"

For a moment, she heard nothing. Then, his bemused answer came back in a regular, measured tone. "There's a lot of ways to answer that, Brynn."

"Don't call me by my name!"

His amusement returned. "No? You don't like that? Too personal, is it? Just admit that you want to be talked down to."

"Fuck you!"

"Tell me, is it something in your ideology that leaves you unsatisfied? Or is it some instinct deep in your bones? I guess that would explain how South Africa came to be, right?"

She knew what he was saying, and she hated it. But beneath her rage, there was awe at his audacity, and - much to her renewed fury - a stirring within her at such taboo topics.

"You want to punish me, then? You want to blackmail me?"

A short guffaw sounded out. "Jesus Christ, you're paranoid. You think I'm some kind of degenerate like Bill Clinton? I don't need to get my kicks on a tropical island."

Brynn rolled her eyes. "So what do you want, then?"

"As if I'd bother telling you that," Warren gloated. "You can stew over that one for a while. See you at the debate."

Oh fuck, Brynn thought to herself. She had forgotten about the first debate.

"My best to your mother, by the way," Warren added mockingly. "Tell Anne-least that she raised a great slut."

Brynn nearly threw her own phone across the room for that comment. Instead, she resigned herself to hanging up abruptly and brooding in bed until she fell asleep.

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Annelies was not happy when Brynn finally phoned her back the next morning. She only said that she'd gone out to the Comic Con event with her friends.

Annelies was not content with that explanation. "Did you get high again?"

Brynn rolled her eyes. "So what if I did? It's legal, isn't it?"

"Don't talk to me about legal. I am in the middle of the campaign! You can't be so irresponsible! I don't care if you were out with friends. I need your help!"

Brynn resented this lecture, but she bore it silently. She was too ashamed of herself to admit the truth. As angry as Annelies was now, Brynn didn't want to imagine her reaction to the news that Brynn had allowed herself to get fucked by the man who threatened everything she'd spent decades working for.

In another political race, the incumbent party might have enjoyed an advantage or two. But the NDP were still reeling from the scandals they'd gone through with Claude Waggoner. Brynn wasted little time getting to her mother's office.

"Hey, Brynn." It was Azam Hafiz, volunteering for another day on Annelies' campaign.

"Morning," Brynn said quietly. They'd become friends in university, until he admitted that he had strong feelings for her. They'd been able to grow past the awkwardness and rekindle their friendship, but now he was the last person she wanted to see.

Azam handed her a cup of coffee, just as she always took it. "Are you okay?"

"No," Brynn admitted. "I didn't sleep well last night."

"Well, whatever it is, it was better than this girl," Azam pointed to his computer screen. "Some woman flashed the expressway at the Millgate last night."

Brynn almost gasped with shock. It was a small article, and thankfully there was no picture to go along with it, but she still felt her skin break into goosebumps as she stared at the screen, unable to read the letters.

"Crazy, huh?" Azam was oblivious to her mortification as he reread the article. "She was smart enough to wear a mask. Cops want to charge her for indecent exposure."

"Pigs," Brynn snapped scathingly. "Like they don't have anything better to do?"

Azam shrugged. "I mean, makes sense. Girl was wearing a Batman mask. Can't blame cops for taking down vigilantes." He smirked pompously, as if he'd made a great joke.

Brynn excused herself and stepped inside her mother's office, hoping that she didn't look as frazzled as she felt.

"About time," her mother declared impatiently. Brynn was about to snap at her mother, until she realised that Annelies was on the phone.

"Don't take that attitude with me! You were the one pushing for this ridiculous debate! It's a by-election, for God's sake!"

Brynn sat down, waiting for her mother to finish. She could guess what this was all about.

The Liberal candidate, Patricia Rossi, was determined to have a debate at town hall. The other candidates had agreed, including Warren Hayes. Annelies had been the only one against it, but she'd had no choice but to agree; her party was fighting enough of an uphill battle as it was without the others calling her a coward for avoiding debates.

"Fine, but whether it happens or not, I'm not rescheduling! Let's just get this over with. Good day." Annelies hung up with a huff.

"Bad news?" Brynn asked her quietly in Afrikaans. It was a chance for them to speak frankly in case they were overheard.

"Patricia wanted cameras at the debate," Annelies remarked in the same language. "What an idiot. She thinks she can pull herself out of third place to challenge me?" She shook her head and muttered a curse under her breath.

Brynn didn't dispute Annelies' claim, but she didn't have to; they both knew that it was a very close race between the NDP, Liberals, and the galvanised PPC. There was a genuine risk that the Liberals would cause a split vote and give Warren the election. 'Getting in the way of real progress as always,' Brynn thought sourly.

After a long sip of coffee, Annelies regarded her daughter and spoke again. "It's not all bad news. Your fundraiser worked out really well for us."

Brynn smiled and gave a modest shrug; truthfully, she knew how instrumental she'd been. She had been the one who suggested her mother take part in a local charity event, then follow it up with a fundraiser of her own. It had been her first serious boost in the race.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Annelies admitted as she lifted her cup for another sip.

She began talking strategy for the upcoming debate, but Brynn was having a hard time focusing. A fear had been growing inside of her ever since Azam had shown her that article. It had been mortifying to find out at first, but now Brynn began to wonder if the police would figure out who she was. She had been masked the entire time, and she hadn't needed to show any ID to the motel staff. But Warren would be much more easily identified, surely? He wouldn't hesitate to hand her over to the authorities to save his skin.

She forced herself to wait until lunch, when she could leave the building to avoid being overheard. This wasn't a conversation that she was going to preserve with texts. She dialed back the number which had called her the night before.

The phone rang twice before he picked up, and it was immediately clear that he knew who she was.

"Well well," came that eternally annoying voice. "Miss me already?"

"Don't be too proud of yourself yet," Brynn hissed. "We made the news!"

"No, you made the news," Warren countered. "They have no idea who I am."

"They'll trace me through you! Idiot!" Brynn had no patience for him.

"How?" The question was still snide, still smug. Brynn began to suspect that she had underestimated him.

"You didn't pay with your card?" She frowned. "But what about the security cameras? You can't fake your face!"

"Sure, if the footage didn't get erased as part of a system issue, right?" He gave a short bark of laughter before continuing. "Jeremy's been running the Millgate since before you were born."

Brynn was floored. How could he have been so prepared? He couldn't possibly have ever known that she'd bump into him that day. "How often do you do something like this?"

Warren gave another laugh. "Sounds like you're getting attached."

"Fuck you!"

"Is that really all you got? No wonder Mrs. Anne-least is flailing right now."

Brynn hung up, shuddering with rage. She hated how when she was at her angriest, her brain couldn't ever put together the right words which would put him in his place for once. That might have had to do with the fact that she was recalling how he'd put her in her place. Not to mention the fact that she was wondering if he might do it again.

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Two days before the debate, her secret wish was granted. A text appeared on her phone which read:

"Check into the Millgate tomorrow night. Bring as much woke attitude as you can."

It was a lazy joke; Brynn normally laughed off such a weak joke at her expense. But coming from Warren, it was potent. 'He knows me, he knows what makes me cum. He knows I'm going to meet him, he's going to utterly degrade me, and he knows I'll like it. He also knows how much I'll hate liking it.'

None of that rationalising did any good. No amount of hesitation or worry could undo the desire inside of her.

Thus, after going over all the debate points with her mom and wishing her good night, Brynn drove herself back to the Millgate.

She was surprised how difficult it was to approach the clerk and book her room. She'd felt less vulnerable in a superheroine costume than ordinary clothes. She was also paranoid about coming back to the place where she'd been forced to get dressed in the hall. She dreaded to imagine what he'd do to her this time.

Much to her chagrin, it was Jeremy who was standing behind the desk. As soon as she stepped inside through the double doors, he leered knowingly at her.

Jeremy might have been in the military once, but those days were behind him. Unlike Warren, who kept himself very fit, Jeremy had definitely gone to seed. He struck her very much like the sort of old white guy who'd peaked in high school. 'No wonder he's stuck managing a rinky dink motel,' Brynn thought encouragingly to herself.

That didn't stop him from riling her up as she approached the counter. He gave her a sour expression, then he grinned contemptuously. "Back for more, huh?"

Brynn tossed her hair, causing her long braids to swing over her shoulders. She didn't fail to notice the glances her gave her body, but she was determined not to let it get to her.

"How much did he tell you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Jeremy laughed. "Better question is how much did I see."

'Fuck...' she'd forgotten how Warren had thrown her clothes out into the hall, forcing her to run out naked except for her mask. No doubt Jeremy had been ready, enjoying the spectacle of seeing her stumble around stoned and half-dressed. She shuddered once as she imagined that scenario, and a second time when it had the predictable effect on her.

"Just get me my key," she snapped. She handed Jeremy a wad of cash instead of using a card. The less evidence she left behind, the easier it would be to deny it.

Jeremy shrugged and slowly stretched out the transaction.

As he did so, he gave her another look-over. "What's your background, anyway?"

Brynn always got that question. It was tiresome to have to explain that her mother was white and her father was Zulu except for one Indian grandparent. Then she would have to explain that Indians were a prominent part of South Africa's history. But at least that was better than having to deal with history buffs who acted all superior because they knew Gandhi spent time in South Africa, or that they knew more than one Zulu king.

Jeremy was unfazed when she refused to answer him. He simply carried on with the process and handed her the key with a smirk. "Room's all ready for you."

She felt restless once she was there. They had arranged for her to arrive at 9 o'clock, but he hadn't said when he would arrive. And so she lay on the large bed, flipping channels and ruminating on what her therapist would say if she ever told her about this. She'd also brought edibles with her, and she ate an extra large dose to kick in later.

By the time he strolled in, without knocking or announcement, the effect had kicked in, and she gaped at him in surprise. An easy smile was on his face, and a large sports bag was slung over one shoulder. He was dressed casually, as if he was going to the gym.

"Good to see you again," he remarked cheerfully.

Brynn sat upright, curling her lip. "Why? You growing attached?"

"Fuck no," he retorted. "Jeremy owes me ten bucks. Said you wouldn't come back."

Brynn groaned. "So nice to feel wanted."

"Please," Warren begged sarcastically. "Spare me. If you wanted something more than getting back at mom and dad, you wouldn't be here, would you?"

"I'm beginning to regret it," Brynn answered bitterly.

"There's the door." Warren stepped aside and pointed. "But if you got a few more issues to get exploited, then take off your clothes, slut. And you better know what you're getting into, 'cause I don't have time for chickenshit hypocrites."

Once again, there was something in the way he spoke down to her, the way he ordered her, the things he said, which drove her wild in every sense of the word. She began undressing as he looked on, grinning from ear to ear.

They were of a similar height, and she wagered that she could take him on in a fight if it came to a struggle. She stood before him, one hand between her legs and one arm in front of her generous bust, on her pile of clothes. She had no intention of him getting advantage of her like he'd done before.

That was when he suddenly glanced out the window and nodded. "We got her, boys!"

It was as if she'd been struck by lightning. Squeaking with horror, she turned around to see who he was talking to. 'Of course he set me up,' she thought in a panic. 'He wants to destroy Mom's campaign!'

But as far as she could tell, there was nobody.

A hand suddenly slapped Brynn's ass, harder than anyone had ever struck it. She gave a cry, but Warren had already covered her mouth with his other hand. She grabbed his wrist with both hands, even as she gave more muffled squeals as he continued to spank her.

"That's right, throw that little tantrum," Warren taunted. "Maybe if you'd gotten spanked as a kid, you wouldn't have turned out such a disappointment to Daddy."

Brynn whimpered. She was surrendering to her passion, and she hated herself for it. But whether she liked it or not, her screams turned to moans as he spanked her. He was too strong to shake off, and she did not try to bite his hand. She had, after all, known what she was getting herself into.

But even with that foreknowledge, she was still surprised by what he did next. When her ass felt hot and raw to the touch, Warren guided her to the large bed. "Get yourself ready, skank."

Meekly, Brynn got on all fours, gasping for air once he'd released her from his grip. No sooner did she get on all fours in the centre of the mattress than she suddenly felt manacles on her wrists.

"No...." she gasped in shock as Warren quickly attached the other ends of the chains to the bed posts. "You can't be serious..."

"Is that fear or excitement?" Warren taunted. "Just think of it as a history lesson. How your mom met your dad, except in this case, I'll be the one doing some colonising. Sound fun?"

"Fuck you," Brynn groaned. She pulled on the chains, but they were taut, forcing her to either rest on her hands or her elbows. She was so focused on these bonds that she was unprepared for when Warren secured her ankles with a spreader-bar. He tied the spreader-bar to the bed with another chain, leaving her utterly trapped where she was.

"Just gonna put these here for safekeeping," Warren remarked as he placed three keys onto the nightstand. "And now, to break you in."

Brynn suddenly giggled. It could have been the weed talking, but this scenario felt utterly ridiculous. It was a fantasy as old as time. She'd always known that this was what men like Warren wanted from her.

Her laughter stopped when he reached down and slapped a large breast as it dangled in mid-air. Brynn shrieked with pain, then turned and spat at him.

"You think you can break me?"

"Oh, I think so," Warren declared. He was still smiling as he undressed. When he got onto the bed with her, Brynn noticed that he was holding something that looked like a tube of toothpaste. Too late did she realise what it actually was, but there was nothing left for her to do except take whatever he gave her.

"Oh!" Brynn's eyes and mouth formed O's as she felt three fingers roughly push inside of her. They were cold and slimy, but what was more was that they were in a hole which had never known such penetration before.

"Something wrong, slut?" Warren laughed as he gave her ass cheek a hard slap, even as he continued to ream and lubricate her with his other hand.