Leah is not Leaving Pt. 03

[The following could be an unhealthy trigger for anyone who is a survivor, please check-in with yourself before proceeding. The intention is to process and condemn an existing reality through fictionalized narrative, never to normalize or excuse. Coerced consent is not consent and a victim is never responsible. Stay well.]

___

By the time I walked down to the kitchen the following morning Rob had already gone for the day. In the adjacent living room surfaces were covered in late night clutter - empty beer cans, peanut shells, makeshift ashtrays. Still groggy from sleep I gathered the trash -- a familiar morning routing in Kaitlin's house.

I had just poured myself a cup of fresh coffee, hoping it will bring some desperately needed clarity to my mind, when I heard the driveway gravel rumbling under pressure. My heart sank at the flash of a familiar red behind curtains. Johnny's truck.

I froze, my first instinct to duck below the counter. I jumped at the sound of him honking and rushed towards my room. Johnny walked through the door as if it was his own home.

"Hello??" he barked loud enough that I stopped with one leg over the last step, coffee still in hand. "Leah - what the hell, why are you not dressed? Is Rob here?"

So much I wanted to say to him. Yell at him. Scream. Send the mug flying at his face.

"Uhm no, Rob left early."

"I see -- well at least someone in this house takes their job seriously," he chuckled at his own remark. "C'mon, it's almost 9, we gotta get going. I'll give you a lift."

"Uhm... I'm not... I thought I didn't work for you anymore?"

"And why is that?" He came up a few steps. "Listen to me -- what me and you do in our own time is separate business. Work is work," his tone cooled down from the upbeat "uncle Johnny" persona he pushed around. He crossed a few more steps. "Or did you think -- what -- you spread your legs and all of a sudden I'm supposed to be treating you all special? Should I pay you for lounging around with your coffee too?"

Special - how dare he?

"No..."

"Yeah? Well, last I checked you still owe me the money you took. So you can either give it back now, or I can take it off your paycheck."

"For the last time, Johnny -- I didn't take your money!" I snapped.

"Did you hear what I said?" He said sharply. "You're going to pay it back, one way or the other. So either write me a check or go get dressed and stop embarrassing yourself."

"I can't... I'm not gonna work for you after..."

"Grow up."

He was level with me now at the top of the stairs, staring me down like he was daring me to refuse. He had the energy of a drunk right before a bar fight -- all he was looking for was an excuse. I felt that chill in my bones. Johny was a man full of muscle and spite, and I... well, I was alone with him, in nothing but a long T-shirt and socks, still sore from his visit last night. I was in no position to argue.

"You have 5 minutes."

___

At work things felt a strange caricature of normal. I settled into the day, loosing myself in menial tasks and avoiding his poorly concealed ogling mainly by pretending it was not there. Drained from the non-stop emotional load, 6 o'clock couldn't come fast enough.

About an hour before closing time Johnny rolled out from under an old Chevy and called out to me.

"Hey -- Leah -- if you're done with the ordering you can go home."

I lit up.

"Just clean up the kitchen area before you go. And check the bathroom."

"Cool, thanks." I dropped awkwardly and rushed off to the back room.

"Hey boys -- it's Friday, you can call it early too. This thing ain't getting fixed tonight anyway," he nodded and the car behind him.

"Nice, thanks man!" The two younger mechanics nodded back at him.

Before long, it was just me and him again. Rushing, I dumped the trash outside and headed back in, determined to grab my jacked and immediately bounce.

"C'mon, I'll give you a ride home." Johnny stood with my jacket in hand.

"I'm in good spirits today," he winked at me with that slimy half-smile of his.

"I'm okay, thanks... I gotta meet some friends, they're waiting for me."

"Don't be ridiculous. I doubt Rob is letting you run around partying it up, given your behavior lately."

"I'm not partying anything up -- and Rob is fine. He can't like... ground me. I'm gonna just go, thanks."

He snapped me by the upper arm. "Don't play games with me. I know you're up to no good. Come on, lets's go."

I dragged my feet alongside him to his stupid, oversized truck. I told myself Rob should be home and that would offer some buffer, and then I could sneak out if I need to. I lied about anyone waiting for me, but I just needed to get away from this shop and my home, that's all I was thinking.

___

"Johnny-- my exit, we just missed it."

"We're making a stop."

That horrid feeling began to creep up my spine again. Breath, stuck in my throat, the corners of my vision suspended in a blur, the world slowly swallowed by a milky haze. My arms filled with lead, suddenly immovable, unreachable.

"I have to get home."

"Be quiet. I have to make a stop."

___

We pulled up to a run-down motel I recognized the name of. It's clientele was known to be primarily truckers and their by-the-hour guests. Our unusual coupling felt sickeningly appropriate here. Johnny opened the car door for me but I shook my head at his reached out hand.

"What now? Leah, I'm warning you, don't be difficult."

I shook my head again, and again. I should cry, or yell. Could I yell? I should, I should call for help.

"Leah," he leaned over, "We're just going to talk. We need to have a serious talk about your future. If you want to have one."

As much as I knew he was lying, my mind clung to it as the only palatable way forward. Johnny wasn't lying about his cop cousin, I knew that, and I'd witnessed firsthand how swift and thoughtless justice in our crumbling, god-forsaken town could be. Prison terrified me. Prison was worse than death. Worse than Johnny, even.

He reached down to my hand and pulled me out from the car. Together we crossed the few steps to a door that Johnny already had a key to. He pushed me in lightly, took a quick scan behind him and stepped inside.

"Sit down. Enough with this shaking leaf bullshit."

I sat on a desk stool, the only other seating option in the room aside from the bed. He leaned on the table next to me, towering over, his large arms crossed.

"C'mon. You're gonna do this "innocent lamb" act every time or what?"

"Johnny please, please let me go home..." All the emotion I kept canned and frozen all day pushed to the surface now. "Please don't do this... I'll pay you back I swear -- please... just..."

He reached down and cupped my chin, lifting it up toward him.

"Shh... I know, I know..."

His other hand reached for his zipper. I shook my head in panic, to which his grip on my face tightened.

"No, no, I can't, not this, please... "

I would've thought I was crying, but there were no tears. All my tears were stuck solid inside, all my attention-- consumed by this unthinkable moment returning to me like a nightmare.

"It's okay. C'mon now... it's okay."

Eyes shut in a hopeless attempt to shut him out m, could hear the rustle of his jeans, the snap of unhooking a button, of a rubber band pulled down -- louder then my own voice, louder than his, our words circling and repeating, each in their own useless mantra.

"Please, Johny..."

"There you go... The-e-ere you... ooah... "

His flesh pushed at my lips at the same time as his fingers squeezed my jaw open. I let him in. All the racket of sensations suddenly dropped, flatlined, exploded into its own singularity. Any grey area I could cling to before -- was gone, and I felt myself in free fall again.

"C'mon... Just like that. Just... like... that..."

My lips stretched around him and any effort to push him out now amounted to a tighter grip. In small but unyielding thrusts his cock filled my mouth with his salty, disturbingly familiar taste. My hands pushing at his torso weakened. My eyes kept blinking on their own -- wide shut, wide open -- unable to choose between the darkness and the sight of his skin.

"Ugh, fuck... Yeah... There we go, just relax. Look at me.... So good... I said look at me. There, such pretty eyes... Don't look away..."

His words felt more nausiating, more violent even than his thick, pulsating member ramming against my throat. I could not escape their effect, I could not escape this beat everything was settling into. And at the center, his voice -- it's okay, it's okay -- rolling and rolling into my ears. Now, he wanted my eyes, an intimacy I could not stand with him but saw little point in fighting. His whole body tensed and tightened at the smallest signs of disobedience from me -- this man, always so effortlessly self-absorbed in his usual self, was now suddenly somehow attuned to every nuance of my experience. He pushed and pushed, in every possibly way, leaving no room for resistance but feeling for it tirelessly. This constant silent threat of escalation from him I could not stand anymore -- so I looked, and kept looking, feeling myself slowly absorbed by his enjoyment of me.

Lulled away from my own experience, my struggling subdued, dampened, until everything was still except for one singular rhythm, the last remaining focal point of my fading awareness.

"...such a good girl... stay still... eyes open..."

Eventually I settled into an empty, thoughtless space. My mind had a sense of strange peace to it, like an battlefield abandoned.

"You're such a special girl, Leah..."

If I could think, I would know to be outraged by his words. But all I could do was feel, as is.

"Such a beautiful sight... so sexy... come on, let's get that top off you... yeah... much better..."

His hands reached to the back of my head.

"Goddamn... Yeah... Tighter... like you're sucking on a milkshake..."

The word "milkshake" triggered a passing awareness of just how nonsensical that was -- a lone image of shoving the whole milkshake cup down my throat flashed and disappeared from my mind. I tightened my lips around him, sucking in the cheeks as much as was possible. This made me feel as if anytime he pulled away I clung to his cock, as if asking it to stay. He groaned with pleasure at the same observation. I wondered if he sounds the same way when enjoying a good steak. Just a predator savoring his catch.

"Yeah... You like that, don't you..."

It was all part of the rhythm. His ups and downs, backs and forths -- they were the rhythm.

"Use your tongue a little... like you're massaging it... mmgghhh... yeah, just like that..."

He cursed and moaned, huffed and puffed -- meanwhile my world was a shaking blur as the speed with which he thrust me head around pushed me to a delirium.

"Ugh fuck... come here..."

He pressed my head into his thrust, leaning over me. My eyes flooded, involuntarily, though that distinction felt gratuitous by then.

"Fuck... Take it... Take it"

He pumped at the back of my throat with thrusts that felt more and more like twitches. I concentrated on enduring him, hopeful for some ending to this impossible moment.

"Damn it girl..." He pulled all the way out in one swift move, pulled my head up by the hair and lowered himself into a wet, hungry kiss.

"I'm gonna fuck you so good tonight Leah... I'm gonna take real good care of you, you'll see... You're real special to me."

His breath; the roughness of his beard; his mouth rushing over my mouth, my neck, my ears -- all a torture of a it's own kind, nearly made me wish for my face fucking to resume. He acted like lovers -- we acted like lovers. Leaning into it felt abhorrent, but there was nothing else to lean or grab onto. Besides, I was afraid of what could be lying on the other side of this appalling outburst of passion; of what a passionate lover becomes when his love is not returned.

His hand slipped inside my jeans and "rummaged" around in there with the same entitlement he entered my house with this morning, and my room the night before. I squeezed my already shut eyes tighter.

"Oh, what's that we got here? Wanna take a look?" He raised his glistening fingers up to my face. "That's your horny little cunt asking for it. You know what that means, don't you?"

It took me a moment to realize he expected some input from me -- I shook my head no. He shoved his fingers in my mouth.

"You taste that? That's what a slut tastes like. You can't fake that." He joined his own fingers in another sloppy kiss. "And you can't hide it."

I had no time to think about how wrong he was. I had no time to think about the sweet little jolts I felt moments before when his hand rubbed over the very top of my pussy. I had no time because I was being pulled off my stool and dragged over the bed with an ease that made me question whether my body even had mass anymore. Maybe gravity itself abandoned me in this hellish loop I was stuck in. I wouldn't blame it if it did.

I didn't see when or where he got the rope from, I only saw it as he began tying my hands to the headboard above me.

"I'm gonna give you what you want baby, cause you've been such a good girl -- you hear me? -- You just relax... you'll be thanking me later."

He gave the rope a final tightening and climbed off me just enough to pull my jeans off; then my socks; then, with noticeably more care - my panties. He bunched them up and rubbed them over my juices, pushing them in lightly. Then he stuffed them in my mouth. The only objection he got from me came in the form of some fast blinking.

"Keep 'em right there for me... Don't upset me."

It was good advice. I really wouldn't want to be around an upset man in a position like that. I was endlessly embarrassed but far too exhausted to think to protest. With my arms raised and my body on display in the bright overhead lighting I felt small, exposed as if on display and still hopelessly hidden.

He climbed off the bed, shoved his stubborn cock back in his pants and left the room. Suddenly I felt terrified -- the rhythm stopped and I was left to face the music. He was gone less than a minute, but time stretched the way it does if you're standing under an ice cold shower.

He returned with a backpack in hand, double locked the door behind him and then gleefully unloaded a bottle of Jameson and something I couldn't see onto the table. Bottle in hand, he paused to take a good look at me.

"What a view..." he shook his head and took a swig. Then he reached over to the table and popped something in his mouth, winked at me and followed it with the whiskey.

"Get comfy sweetheart. We've got nowhere to rush tonight."

I felt the chill from his words spread across my body. He switched the bedside lamps on and turned off the main lights, double checked the blinds, took off his pants (keeping the trunks on). Took a piss in the bathroom. He seemed restless. He grabbed the remote and flipped through a few channels, settling on some trash reality tv for the ambiance. Finally still, he stood at the foot of the bed with his hands at his hips, as if admiring his work.

"Spread your legs."

I moved as if through water, with delay - but I moved.

"Wider, slut."

The slut stung more than it needed to, given the circumstances. I pulled my legs wider apart.

"Fuuuck me...." He shook his head again, took another swig, and climbed over.

He leaned down between my legs and kissed my spread open pussy. His mouth on me still felt wrong, but it was better than the other way around -- or so I told myself as I winced at his increasingly impatient licking. I couldn't place exactly where the "good" from "felt good" would be here, but undeniably, my body responded to him in a whole lot of ways. In what little experience I had before all this, I already grew a little self-conscious of the abundance with which my body responded to touch -- that seed easily blossomed into full-blown shame under his eyes prying me open now.

"God, look at you... who knew you were such a horny little slut... of course I knew, I could see it on you... Look how much you're loving this...." Johnny mumbled in-between loud slurping. "I want to see you cum baby... I'm gonna watch your wet little hole twitching for me, right here in my hands, up close view..."

I was mortified, tense like a string and feeling more sensitive with each passing moment. Something was rising in me and I couldn't push it down; rising in response to him -- his tongue, his words, his hands. Tired and overwhelmed, I began questioning whether I should even be resisting this call at all; knowing that I couldn't.

Abruptly shifting, he climbed up me and pressed his sweaty forehead to mine.

"Beg for my cock baby." He reached into my mouth and pulled out the soaked cotton. "Say, I want your cock Johnny"

"I want your cock... Johnny."

"No, no -- look at me. Say Johnny, I really, really want your cock."

The way he could look at me and past me all at the same time had always chilled me to my core.

"Johnny -- please -- I really, really want your cock."

He was waiting for more. I swallowed and pushed out: "Please, Johnny. I want you to fuck me so bad."

"Say you need it.

"I need you to fuck me. I need your cock. Please..." my voice cracked and I was about to burst into tears. I hated him and wanted nothing more to be away from this room -- that was true. And yet the words coming from my mouth weren't entirely a lie either. I knew what was coming, and yes, on top of the anguish that was by now my background -- there was anticipation. I would never call it desire, but there was something -- where there should've been nothing. It was all mired in fear, but it wasn't just fear. And it was powerful. I knew it. Worse yet, he knew it too.

"Please... I'm begging you, Johnny"

His eyes lit up, like he got a green light. With the enthusiasm of a methed up soldier he grabbed my hips and plunged himself into me, burying the entire length of his rock-solid shaft inside. Though it wasn't the first time and I was, by all means, "prepped", the pain was blinding...

Blinding, unbearable... far, far too much -- I can't, I couldn't... couldn't tell...

"BEG!"

"OH MY GOD!" I was loosing my mind, what the hell does he want from me, for fuck's sake... "Yes!! Fu-uck.... Aaaggh... Fuck me..."

"What was that?"

He slapped me suddenly across the face.

"Jesus! Just FUCK ME, you asshole!"

The following felt like a dream, even if a nightmare -- I was floating, flying in his hands, his cock kept hitting something I was sure was hurting me, but something I somehow craved more of, tumbling, uncontrollably, as if caught under a wave. The room filled with the sound of our skin, our voices, grainy, breathy, piercing... I couldn't anymore, it was impossible, impossible to go on...

So I let go. Everything plunged into darkness. One long, earth-shaking, endless scream, bursting from the very core, unleashing the impossible tension into blinding nothingness. Pitch black. Bliss. Fin.

I caught myself moments later, waking up to my own body shaking and weeping. Johnny towered over me, his eyes transfixed on my face, his cock still inside me. Still hard. Some muscle deep inside me, still twitching in sparsed-out, aftershock contractions around him. Everything felt wet, sticky, too hot, too cold.

"Ain't that something.... Real special show you gave me there, baby girl..." he turned my face towards him. "Beautiful... my special girl."

I was grateful for the sugar in his voice this time around. I needed it.

"See -- I treat you right, like the sweet little treat you are. And you're so much more beautiful like this, you don't even know. This, this right here is where you shine baby. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise. You hear me?"