Hurt Shoulders (Broken Shoulders Pt. 02a)

"You'll be fucking wet enough once I put my cock inside you." He grunted, sounding quite aggressive and forceful.

In truth, I really didn't know what to think. On the one hand, yes I so desperately wanted to be fucked -- but not like this, not like a barbaric cave-dwelling neanderthal. My cunt barely moistened (and that's saying a lot as you guys know) and so I tried to put it out of my head. I consoled myself that I was finally going to get fucked.

I felt his strong hands part my cunt lips and then felt the tip of his cock nudge my hole. He applied some pressure to it but despite this, his cock wasn't sliding in like it was meant to.

"I'm too dry." I responded, "you need to warm me up."

He stopped and glared at me, and despite the darkness -- I could see the hate and vitriol in his eyes and it scared me. He squeezed his eyes, clenched his teeth and then with a low guttural grunt he thrust into me.

This time my cunt hole yielded and whilst not painful, it was not the most pleasant of feelings. He grunted once more and immediately began humping me. There was no other word for it. It wasn't sensual or thoughtful. It wasn't considerate or loving. It was wild and brutal and barely enjoyable for me.

Dave on the other hand seemed to be in his element. "Oh fuck yeah. Does that feel good baby." He would moan, not really expecting an answer I guess -- because I didn't give one. Instead I just lay there, taking each thrust. The seed of any orgasm wasn't even formed in my brain when Dave declared he was going to cum. I decided to test him (you can judge me on that too, if you want).

"Dave, you're not wearing a condom -- you HAVE to pull out." I screamed.

Dave continued his thrusting, "No way -- this baby batter is going all the fucking way into you." He snarled.

Again, though I knew I was on the pill -- he didn't, so I screamed once more "Dave, please don't ...please don't cum in me."

And then I saw it in his face, my demands were actually turning him on even more. Dave came, inside me and issued a whole tirade of abusive comments, most of which I either couldn't quite understand or I've chosen to forget.

He was right about one thing, I was now getting wet. It was a little late, and a little unrequired but at least I was getting there. Dave rolled over and sighed with effort, whilst I gulped in frustration. It wasn't meant to be like this, surely? I didn't know did I. A part of me thought maybe that is how all men make love, although it was a far away approach to the tender loving scenes I had seen on TV.

Dave drew a loud breathe "Fuck that was a great touch at the end babe, asking me to pull out. That really fucking got me." He chuckled.

I gasped at the incredulity, did he really think I had said that to turn him on? If I thought that was bad, what he said next was just unbelievably condescending.

"Wouldn't matter if you got pregnant anyway, you could have an abortion -- right?"

I almost lost it with him. I went to the toilet and locked the door while I cried. The night had promised so much and yet it had all been a shambles. I cried for ages, wondering how such a kind man could have such a terrible side to him. I considered my options, but in truth I had had enough of his attitude and I knew what I had to do. Finally, I opened the door and heard Dave snoring slightly. I whispered his name and when he didn't answer -- I gathered my stuff and got out of there as quickly as I could. I didn't care how I looked or how I smelt like -- I just knew I needed to get home.

The cab driver must have thought he'd hit the jackpot -- quoting me £90 to get me home (it was quite a distance) but I paid it willingly. To his credit the driver asked if I was OK, saw the state I was in and asked if I wanted to be taken anywhere else. He meant of course, did I want to go to the police station to report a rape. But it wasn't rape -- I hadn't said 'no' and no court in the land would have found Dave guilty. I just said that I wanted to go home, so we drove there for 2 hours -- in silence as I ruminated over the events.

When I got home I washed and showered, and then calmed myself for a few hours before I went to pick up Ben. Around 9.15 I got a call from Dave -- I rejected it. Another call, then another -- and I rejected them all. Finally, he sent a text asking where was I and why I had left. He then said he'd enjoyed the weekend very much and hoped I'd enjoyed it too. The man did not have a fucking clue.

I picked up Ben, and my sister of course asked me how it had gone. I told her it had been OK and left making an excuse that I was late for an appointment. It was a lie, my sister knew that and she also knew I was lying about how it had gone. But she is nothing if not discrete and considerate so she didn't ask further.

When I got home, I set Ben up in front of the TV and busied myself with chores. There were several more phone calls (rejected) and messages from Dave. Each message saying the same thing, asking why I wasn't taking his calls or responding to his messages.

The next day, I woke up in a surprisingly good mood. I had slept well given the disruption of the previous night and I finally felt ready to tackle Dave. In my mind I had formulated my words and then finally I text him.

I told him how I had hoped our night together was going to be special, romantic and loving. I told him that I understood he liked it a little rough, but that not all women do. I pointed out that he never once asked me if I was OK with it (the face fuck) and that his attitude toward an unwanted pregnancy was simply disgusting and hurtful. Then I told him that while the 5am fuck would have been 'nice' had he taken his time to warm me up -- he had instead treated me like a piece of meat. I ended by saying that I wasn't sure if I wanted to be with a guy that treated women like that.

I didn't get a reply until later that evening, just as I put Ben to bed. Again, I don't know if Dave had spoken to someone -- or searched on the (then) new fangled Internet but the attitude in his texts changed. He became the sorry, remorseful and apologetic guy that he had been after the concert.

He begged my forgiveness and lamented that, since I had gone along with everything -- he had assumed I was OK with it. In hindsight, yeah he was right -- I probably should have voiced my objection (if that's what it was) a bit louder.

It was his attitude to the pregnancy that really hurt. Even the rough fucking was about tolerable because sometimes, men (and women) like it quick and dirty. But his belief that my outburst regarding getting pregnant was part of some sexual game -- that killed me. There could be no higher disrespect and contempt than that.

The following morning a huge (and I mean -- huge) bunch of flowers arrived along with some chocolates and a card that said "I'm Sorry."

A long text arrived shortly later and in it he tried to explain himself. He admitted that he did have a bit of a controlling and aggressive streak in him and that he sometimes struggled to manage it. He also admitted that he didn't have much luck with women (I wonder why) and said that sometimes that manifested itself in things he said or did. He stopped short of saying he hated women (something he later admitted in court) but he did admit to sometimes enjoying the feeling of control that he had over them.

Anyway, long story short -- we messaged occasionally over the next several weeks as I contemplated what I was going to do. Was I going to give him another chance or just move on? Then one Saturday he asked me to meet him at a local coffee shop. I agreed, mainly because it was a public place and there was little control he could assert over me.

So I dropped Ben off with my sister, and went to the coffee shop in town. When I saw him and sat down, I realised he was clean shaven and well dressed. He had a nice after shave on and he'd had his hair cut making him a lot more presentable.

Immediately he asked how I was doing and how Ben was doing, then pulled out a large Teddy bear for me to give to Ben -- and it wasn't one of those cheap ones either. I thanked him then said we had a lot to discuss. Once again, he offered his profound apologies and begged my forgiveness. He reiterated what he had said in some of his texts and then added that, he acknowledged now that he should have discussed it all with me -- before we had got to the hotel. But -- just as I thought we were getting somewhere, he blew it. Well -- sort of.

He told me that I needed to acknowledge my part in it too, which sort of took me aback. He said that I must have known from our previous sexual encounters in his car -- that he liked it rough. He said he felt that I had thrown my knickers at Tom in a deliberate attempt to turn him on and said that I must have known how he would react. Then he pointed out that I had not really struggled that much during the face fuck and had I really not wanted it -- I had ample ways of letting him know. He reiterated that he believed the pregnancy thing was something I had said to turn him on. Then finally, he added that the 5am fuck was meant to be 'a nice surprise' and he thought I'd 'juice up quickly' at the thought.

There must have been a proverbial clunk as my jaw hit the ground and I honestly didn't know quite what to say or where to start. I think I must have stared at him dumbfounded because after about a minute or so he asked if I was OK. Then he asked if 'we' were OK.

And yet, you know what -- and you're all going to think I'm crazy -- I still wanted to give him a second chance. I told him that maybe, we could start fresh again. Start off with just a dinner date, no sex -- not even a blow job. Then we could see if we wanted to continue with the relationship. Dave seemed quite pleased, and relieved at that and he smiled broadly. I'd forgotten how cute he looked when he smiled, and I told him so.

And for the next 3 weeks that's what we did. We met up, in a restaurant or in a bar and we just talked. Frivolous stuff mostly, sometimes work sometimes life. Occasionally we would talk about feelings and emotions and about out pasts. He relayed to me how some of his previous girlfriends had shamed and humiliated him, and I have to say -- a lot of it was not very nice at all. It didn't mitigate what he later went on to do -- but at the time, I felt for him.

After about a month, I or we rather decided we'd give sex another try. This time it would be in my house, and I told him that we would talk about things before we did them. Dave, of course -- agreed wholeheartedly. I also told him he'd need to use a condom since I had only just gone back on the pill 3 days previous and it had not kicked in.

So it was arranged. My sister would have Ben overnight and would also call me at 8pm (Ben's bedtime) and then again at 11pm on the excuse that Ben had woken and wanted his mum. We also set up a code word 'Teddy', which if I uttered - meant that she needed to get my other sister and husband to go round to my house immediately.

Dave turned up at 6.30 pm as arranged, nicely suited and booted as we say and smelling divine. He gave me a bouquet of flowers and showed me a bottle of wine that he had picked up. I thanked him and we went into the kitchen, where Dave opened the wine while I put the flowers in a vase.

We sat down and quickly finished the first bottle. I suppose I was still nervous, I so wanted the evening to go well this time. I wanted Dave to show me that he understood about consent and about communication.

By the time we'd finished the 2nd bottle it was 8pm and sure enough -- my phone rang. Dave went to fetch another bottle while I spoke to my sister. Everything was OK with Ben and I told her everything was going well my side so she reminded me that she would ring again at 11pm and then we hung up.

When Dave returned, I told him that it was Ben's bedtime and I wanted to say goodnight to him. Dave nodded, although in truth I slightly suspected that he knew it was a 'welfare' call.

By 9pm we had eaten and sat back to finish off what would be our 4th bottle of wine. Despite that, I didn't really feel intoxicated -- but then, we seldom do. Talk once more turned to sexual preferences and I declared that I didn't really know much about them. Dave asked me if I'd tried S&M or BDSM? He asked me if I had ever been tied up and was that something I thought I'd like to try. I should have seen the warning signs even then, but of course I didn't. We were after all, discussing fetishes so it seemed perfectly acceptable to enquire.

I asked how he felt about FemDom or cuckolding and Dave replied in no uncertain terms that he didn't like either. I asked him how he felt about being tied up himself, or maybe having some light pain inflicted on his cock or balls. Again he conveyed his dislike.

OK. Admission time. In the 2 or so weeks leading up to this night I had made several enquires to friends (and mainly my eldest sister) regarding such fetishes. She had told me about some of the things that people do or say to each other.

So, after a while -- I saw a pattern emerging in Dave's likes and dislikes. It was all about his masculinity. He felt that being tied up, subjugated and dominated showed a weakness. And to have a woman do it -- was just even more unpalatable to him. He needed to maintain control and dominance at all times, he told me. Then he said something which I missed. Well not entirely. Whether I was refilling our wine glasses, got distracted by the TV or simply let my mind wonder -- I don't know. Maybe I was just so drunk that it truly didn't register -- except somewhere in the deepest recesses of my brain, it recorded it. Nevertheless the implications of what he said, didn't really hit me -- until the trial.

He admitted that he liked to express his control and dominance over women and that the more his partner (that's how he referred to them) struggled and fought him, the more he liked it. To the point, he admitted - where sometimes he liked to instil genuine fear in them with a little violence, and by using a weapon.

I saw him glare at me, and I suppose he was looking for a good or bad reaction. And damn me to the clouds if, instead of asking him to repeat it -- I simply accepted what my ears thought he'd said. Not realising of course, that my lack of response must have seemed like a green light to him.

Anyway, it was now close to 10pm and so we went to bed. And before you ask, yes, I had started creaming myself. My cunt was wet with anticipation and hope that, we had actually managed to clear up our misunderstandings and could now enjoy a pleasurable and robust sex life.

But it was whilst in bed, as he genuinely -- and I have to say - reasonably gently fingered me that he asked me about the dirty talking. Those of you who have read part 2 will now know the event to which I refer.

He asked me how I felt about dirty talking, asked me how I would feel if he called me dirty names while he was fucking me. He gave me some examples, and so when he got to the more extreme ones, I stopped him. He said that it really turned him on and so I agreed, I mean it wasn't like he really meant them -- right?

He continued to finger me for a while then asked if it was ok if he could lick me. I mean, come on -- he was going from one extreme to the other. I told him he didn't need to ask permission for that sort of thing. We got into the 69 position and I took his cock in my mouth as he licked my wet hole, and rubbed my clit. I have to admit to being quite aroused now -- this was more like the sex I was wanting.

I tugged on his balls and smiled to realise they were now quite full. My mind whooped at the thought that I might get a decent amount for a change. Briefly I considered where I would want his cum. Mouth Tits or cunt -- or all three I giggled to myself. His cock twitched briefly and I knew once he'd shot his load -- I'd have a few hours wait for the next one (judging by previous events).

So, taking his cock out of my mouth I said as sexily and wantonly as I could "Oh Dave, I want you to fuck me right now. I want you to bury that cock in me and pound my cunt to oblivion."

Now, I'm aware of the connotations of what I'd said and in hindsight I should have realised that Dave was going to take it a different way. I merely sought to convey the urgency of my requirement to be fucked well. My choice of the word 'pound' was therefore a little inappropriate and unfortunate.

Dave did take it the wrong way. He got off the bed and stood up tall -- holding his cock in his hand. He ordered me to lay on my back and bring my ankles level with my head in what he described as the pretzel position. I knew the position but not the name (and it would later on, come to be my favourite position when being fucked) so I adopted it quite easily, putting my arms over my legs to hold them in that position.

Dave grabbed his cock and used it to slap my clit and my cunt a few times. "Like that, bitch" he'd say -- not waiting for an answer. Well there was only one answer my cunt was going to give -- and you guys all know what that is.

He slid his cock up and down my crack, which was now getting wetter by the minute and then he positioned the tip of his cock by my entrance. My heart nearly leapt with pleasure and anticipation. My mind was doing cartwheels and I was finally starting to feel an orgasm -- the very first orgasm that Dave was going to give me.

He slipped his cock in without too much trouble as you can imagine and it sunk in fully. A brief shiver of disappointment hit me as I realised that my cunt didn't even feel half full, nor did my cunt lips feel stretched. 'It's what he does with it that counts' I told myself, desperately hoping and praying that this was not going to end up in another epic failure.

He slid into me, then his body crashed on top of me like a sack of potatoes, eliciting a wild "OOOOFF" from me as the air emptied from my lungs.

Mistaking my groan of pain as one of pleasure he announce gleefully "Big enough of a cock for you, then eh Slut?"

Again, and in hindsight his delirious belief that he was somehow 'well endowed' and that he was a great 'lover' still astounds me to this day. His misplaced confidence knew no bounds.

I began to bounce on the bed as his thrusts began to increase in speed and intensity. His breathing (and mine for that matter) became laboured and he was now only managing to call out things in between thrusts.

His thumb rubbed my clit sweetly as his other hand mashed my tits. Now that was one area where I didn't mind how rough he wanted to be. My tits were up for just about anything, believe me -- not that I meant to tell him that. Except of course, I did.

His pounding became more frantic and frenetic as I now felt my orgasm start to build. Between strokes he called out the usual things - 'You like that slut' and 'you're coming like a worthless whore' and then 'Take it you fucking useless bitch' as he rammed his cock brutally into me.

As you know, I do quite enjoy a strong masterful man dominating me -- even then. But these were angry thrusts, not lustful or passionate at all. And all the time he just kept wailing over and over 'take it you fucking worthless cum bucket, it's all you're good for'.

Despite all that, my orgasm kept climbing and taking me to the edge. And then all of a sudden, I was there, and he called out "Fuck I'm gonna cum - you fucking worthless slut. In your dirty whoring cunt hole."

I felt the first spurt and that was all it took. My head exploded and from out of nowhere (and believe me -- to this day I don't know where it came from) I shouted "Yessss, fuck this worthless whore ... come in my useless cunt." And then with a wail, I cried "I'm coming -- bite my fucking tits."

Well. To say he lightly nibbled on my tits would be to say that a comet the size of a pebble killed the dinosaurs. Dave reacted instantly and dropped his head before taking a huge fucking bite on of my fucking tits. I mean honestly, it took months for the marks to heal. And quite why I had cried out like that I don't know. Maybe I didn't expect him to bite so hard, maybe I meant for him to just nibble on my nips.