To My Senses Ch. 06

Author's note:

A couple of warnings here.

First, you REALLY need to have read my first book, Messy, in order to understand this chapter. Characters will be appearing, events will be referenced... Yes, this chapter could probably stand by itself in the context of THIS book, but it traces events not shown but occurring in Messy. Preferably, readers would have read all my past works, as this will illuminate some of the characters and sequences that occur later in the series.

Second, there's only one sex scene, so if you're reading just for the erotic sequences, I'd recommend skipping this chapter. That scene is violent and degrading despite both characters enjoying it, so even IF you're reading just for sex and want to read just that... It may make you uncomfortable.

Third, this chapter, due to being plot-centric and taking place within the Messy time frame, contains several scenes of violence (though nothing overtly graphic), discussions of violence, a scene of contemplated suicide, and a discussion of a sexual assault. This is not a "happy" chapter, though it is very necessary to the story, and I tried to minimize what was "shown" "on screen" while conveying what needed to be.

Thank you once again for reading, for all your votes, for all your messages both public and private. I appreciate it.

###

I'd never been this lonely.

This...EMPTY.

Mike was working. Tori wasn't picking up her phone. Nina was probably pulling a bullet out of some gangbangers chest. Colette and my sister were in the wrong fucking time zone to call at this hour.

My parents were dead.

And Cady hated me.

Fuck.

I was tired. Tired of being lonely. Tired of meaningless random hookups. I felt like I was going through the motions of attraction and desire, not feeling them despite my participation. I was tired of teaching, of grading papers. Tired of dealing with my neighbors' petty complaints about the townhouses I now managed.

Tired of driving home to an empty house every night.

I was tired of being tired.

The bottle of Chopin was sweating condensation all over the kitchen table and I didn't see any reason to use a glass.

I grabbed the bottle and took it up to my bedroom. The world seemed hyper-aware through the alcohol and exhaustion haze. I could feel the carpet, soft under my shoes. Hear the hum of the light fixtures. In the next townhouse over, a TV was turned up.

The bed creaked when I sat down, and I reached into the nightstand, pulled out my father's Browning Hi-Power. It was heavy in my hand, muzzle wanting to tilt towards the floor. I pushed down the tiny safety, retracted the slide enough to see the chambered brass through the ejection port.

I dropped the magazine, tried to catch it. It thunked softly on the floor.

Who cares?

I contemplated the gun for a long time. Or maybe I didn't, maybe I was just sitting there.

Dammit.

I angled the gun up, placed the muzzle under my chin, made sure to tilt it back towards my neck instead of up through my mouth.

No living disfigured, with a mistake.

Fuck, I should really do this in some other place that won't bother the next owner of the building.

I trudged up the steps to the attic, flicked on the light. Cady had puked on the floor right there. Our relationship had ended in this ugly room full of boxes.

I sat against the wall, took another drink from the bottle, and started to cry. I couldn't do this anymore. Pretend like nothing was wrong, pretend like I was strong, like I was normal. I wasn't normal, I was tired, and sick of it.

My life had ended in this room, years ago. Looking back honestly, I couldn't have lived with myself if I'd done anything different. Couldn't have allowed myself to do anything different.

It was fate.

Now my life would end for real in this room. The bullet was just punctuation on the final sentence I'd started writing when Cady walked out of my life.

The muzzle warmed under my chin.

Three and a half pounds of pressure, and I wouldn't feel like this anymore.

I wouldn't be tired anymore.

"Wanna fuck?" Tori asked.

I looked up at her. Muscular brown legs led up to a tiny denim skirt, and a short, strappy tank showed off her midriff.

"Why?"

"Cuz fucking feels better than dying. She crouched in front of me. You can kill yourself any time. I need some cock tonight. Your cock."

I set the Hi-Power on the floorboards. "Why does everyone think I'm a walking hard-on?"

"Because you've got the libido of a billygoat with three dicks. And to hear your friends tell it, you always have."

Even in my drunk, depressed, and suicidal state, I could appreciate her body. The neckline of the shirt had been cut to show off ample golden curves, and between her shadowed thighs, I could see her thin red panties stretched over her feminine mound.

"Yeah, kinda." I laughed bitterly.

Tori held out her hand. "C'mon. It'll do you good, let some of that darkness out."

"Darkness?"

"Yeah." I let her pull me to my feet as she stood. "Because you may want to die, but I want to get fucked up. That's how I deal with it. Hurt me."

Someone had said those words to me before, Cady maybe? They rang in my ears.

"Bathroom," I said, and I wasn't at all gentle when I dragged her by the wrist down to the first floor.

In front of the bathroom mirror, I made her hold her phone up with today's date displayed on the calendar. I aimed my phone camera at her. "Tell me your name, the date, and that you want to get fucked up."

Tori held my gaze as she said her name and the day, her voice going more and more sultry with every word. "I submit to my friend Gary Galloway doing whatever humiliating, degrading, painful, orgasmic things he wants to my body, without reservation, up to and including my death."

I rolled my eyes. "Your death? Seriously."

She shrugged.

I shut the phone off and set it on the counter, stared the intense little Latina down as she strutted over to me. I could feel her body heat radiating against me as her fingers picked the buttons free, one by one, on my dress shirt. She pulled it down my arms, baring my torso, then leaned in for a gentle kiss of my sternum and a teeth-grazing lick of my left nipple.

Trailing her lips down my abs, she undid the belt on my pants, tugged them and my boxers down, lifted my bare feet to pull them off.

I was fully nude, and she hadn't begun to undress yet.

"How do you want to defile me?"

I looked her over, and for probably the only time in my life, I didn't see a woman as a person. I saw three holes in a piece of meat. I saw a blank canvas upon which to paint my darkest urges.

Why was I feeling so crazy, so disconnected lately? I shouldn't be feeling like this.

I pulled the shower stall door open and pushed Tori inside, she stumbled, caught herself on the wall, eyes wide with a combination of very real fear and smoky arousal. "Hike your skirt up."

She did, a shimmy of the hips as the denim rose up her thighs, and she held the garment above her waist to spin, show me the gauzy red g-string she was wearing.

"Now piss yourself."

"What?" There was a shake to her head as Tori was snapped out of whatever violent, submissive fantasy she was imagining.

"You heard me."

"Why?"

I stepped out of the shower. "Get the fuck out of here."

"Wait." There was real fear, real need, something unmet, unfulfilled, something panicked in Tori's voice.

I turned back, watched as a blush suffused her golden-brown face and she held my eyes without looking away as the crotch of her panties darkened with moisture, then began to leak down her leg.

It wasn't erotic to me at all in the slightest. Except... It kinda was.

The making-her-submit part.

The tile floor held puddles of pale yellow and the stall smelled of urine when she was done. Her eyes never left mine, hands never moved to cover herself.

She obeyed.

I stepped up and grabbed the flimsy material of her top, twisted and pulled, felt it give way loudly in my hands. I ripped it down the middle, baring her perky, handful-sized tits. Fuck, this woman was gorgeous.

She went to her knees easily with my hand heavy on her shoulder, and she looked up at me expectantly as I took my penis in hand.

I think she was expecting to be forced face-first onto my dick, but Tori flinched, then held steady as I let go, playing the warm stream of urine across her breasts and abs, soaking her torn shirt and tiny skirt as it ran down or splashed off her body. I held her gaze, knowing I should be embarrassed, not feeling anything remotely close to that emotion.

I finished, stood there, towering over her, both of us waiting for my next move, both of us shocked at what I'd commanded, done.

Fuck, I felt mad. Crazy.

I pushed Tori back against the shower wall, sending her sprawling, and she didn't rise when I flicked on the handheld sprayer and played ice-cold water at high speed up and down her body, soaking her. I let the sprayer fall, saying back against the wall, pulled the Latina up by her wrist and pushed her against the wall. I was getting hard at the thought of being inside her and when I saw her plump, bald pussy between her legs after ripping her panties and letting them fall down one leg, I got even harder.

Her butt made a hard wet smacking noise as I spanked her, and she shifted against the wall, arching it out obediently to present herself for fucking. The heat of her pussy was a shocking contrast to the cold of the air and water, and I drove deep in one stroke, burying myself in her to the hilt as she cried out in surprise. I held her in place with a hand twisted in her bunched-up skirt, the other pressing her cheek hard against the tile wall as I thrust. My movements lifted her to her toes with every push in, driving a cry of pleasure, pain, or shock from the smaller woman as I pumped her for what seemed like hours.

Pulling away, I grabbed the sprayer as I dragged Tori to her knees, and just like when I'd taken her from behind, it took one slap across a cheek to get her to open up for me. I thrust into her mouth and she closed her lips around me, tongue working squirming my length. I didn't need the hand tangled in her hair to move her violently, she facefucked herself on my rod, bobbing up and down faster than I would've forced her, jamming the sensitive head of my prick down her throat until she gagged, pulling back, doing it again and again, and again.

When she popped off for breath, I sprayed her in the face with the cold water, and she was so surprised she would've fallen backward except for the fist I'd tangled in her hair. "Back at it."

We did that over and over, Tori coughing and retching with my cock down her throat, sucking roughly as she moved back and forth, then pulling away for half a breath before I drenched her again. And when I tired of that I pulled her to her feet with a yank to her hair, slammed her against the wall, and pushed up into her again.

Somehow, despite choking on my dick, despite being pissed on, despite being nearly drowned, Tori was wet inside. Her pussy was impossibly slick and hot around me, and she practically clung to the wall as I rammed into her, hips hammering against her round ass, hammering her tiny body against the cold tile. Every collision of our bodies drove a cry from her lips, and when she went over the edge, I kept going, fucking her through her climax, thrusting even as her snatch contracted around me and she convulsed against the wall with pitiful shrieks of pleasure and...surrender. I took her orgasm, made her cum.

I was stronger, more powerful, and she knew it.

She was at MY mercy, and it turned us both on.

Tori almost fell to her knees when I pulled out of her, and I dragged her stumbling from the shower stall by her hair, making her wince and cry from the painful yank. She sprawled over the counter as I pushed her, and I was back inside her quickly, yanking her face up from the countertop forcing her to watch in the mirror as I pounded away at her from behind. "This what you wanted?" I growled at her reflection, my words barely audible over the smack of bodies and the wet suction noise of my cock plunging into her sodden core.

She tried to hang her head as a look of shame crossed her face, but my fingers tangled in her hair wouldn't let her.

"Watch! Watch it!" I kept fucking her, holding eye contact, making the smaller woman watch the reflection of her body being taken, making her watch her own face as she enjoyed it.

I pulled away and pushed her out the bathroom door, and she backed up, away from me, very obviously aroused, but also very obviously aware of the violence in my actions and intentions.

Tori had asked for this, and she was getting it, and I was fucking turned on by the fact that she wasn't sure she wanted it anymore, and the fact that she wasn't sure she could back out.

We faced each other across my living room, both of us dripping wet and glaring furiously at the other.

She was right, this was better than dying.

The Latina slowly, deliberately stripped off her sodden skirt and threw it to the floor, strutted over. The look on her face betrayed no emotion as to whether she wanted to slug me or kiss me.

Her tackle took me off my feet and I hit the wet carpet with a crash that shook the entire house. Tori was atop me in an instant, straddling my waist, grinding bald labia up and down my erection, hands clawed into my pecs as she glared at me.

I guess that solved the question of where she wanted to kiss me or hit me.

Her kiss was more like a bite, mouths pressed together and tongues swirling against each other, heart rate racing as soft wet muscle flexed against its counterpart. She pulled away with a snarl and a nip.

"Ow!" I yelped. I raised a hand to my lip, found red blood on my fingertips. "You fucking bit me!"

"You peed on me." Tori watched down to angle my meat up into her tight, steaming wet box, forcing herself down on it and taking the full length in one slide. I watched as she undulated her hips, riding me, stirring her vagina with my prick, scraping the sensitive walls with her up-and-down slams and the pleasurable twists and rolls of her hips.

"You - " I was going to protest, say something in my defense, but Tori leaned down and actually bit my shoulder.

"Motherfucker!"

She licked blood from her lip when she sat back, a grin spreading her face.

Looking over, I saw a perfect moon of teeth marks in my flesh, some of them bleeding. I slapped her face, hard, hard enough to rock her head, turn her cheek instantly red. "Stop being a cunt! You wanted to get hurt, not me!"

"Shooting yourself doesn't hurt?"

Oh fuck that. I dragged Tori down by her neck, seized one firm, perky breast, and bit it. Just like she bit me. Harder even. She howled and tried to pull away, but I held her in place, even as her cries turned from surprise to actual ongoing pain and her fists pounded my ribs.

I released her and rolled us over. She was a fighter, but I was bigger and stronger, and my knees spread her legs, my hands dragged her wrists above her head even as she struggled against me with all her strength. Pinned beneath me, I gripped her throat and squeezed, let my strength rest on my hand. I watched Tori stick her chin out defiantly, then struggle to pull in breath, then start fighting to get away. I let her choke for a few seconds longer, then let up. "I like you a whole lot fucking better when you're getting fucked and not trying to fuck me up." I punctuated each of my words with a slam of my hips, and she cried out with each impact of our bodies together.

"Yes sir..." she swallowed and fought to suck in enough air to answer.

With her body restrained beneath me, I began moving, long sawing strokes that filled her and then emptied her, feeling her tunnel stretching around me. I released her throat so I could pin down each hand with one of my own, a more stable position. Tori's head reared up, mouth open and going for one of my nipples.

"You bite, I punch. Got it?"

Another circle of painful teeth marks in my chest, and the impact of my fist rocked her head back into the carpet.

"Fuck that," I muttered, and rolled her over. She fought my spreading her legs again, fought my wrestling her hands down, but there was no denying the desire in the movement of her hips when I proned her out on the floor, guided myself into her pussy, and began pounding away. She arched and pushed back and up, meeting my thrusts wildly until she came again with a scream and I buried myself balls deep, hips pressed against her ass while my cock clenched and released painfully hard, hot cum spurting against her cervix with every mind-blowing, body-wrenching contraction.

I rose and pulled away, dripping spunk on her brown curves as she grinned up at me. "Hope your ass is ready tonight."

###

The hours went by in a hazy blur of alcohol nausea, hangover headache, straining muscles, and furious, violent sex.

My memories of it returned in flashes of insight as I lay next to Tori on my bedroom floor.

Pinning her to the stairs with her holding her legs wide so I could pound into her, gorgeous face looking at me pitifully as I drove her to climax

Dragging her into the bedroom by her hair, throwing her on the bed and using my belt to tie her arms behind her, then forcing her to her knees to get facefucked again.

Bending her over the edge of the bed, alternating a long, deep thrust up her barely-lubed asshole with a long, deep thrust into her pussy, swapping between her holes over and over while she squeaked out her discomfort and enjoyment.

Pushing her legs back to her shoulders, folding her in half and fucking her wildly with my feet planted flat on the bed, while she struggled against the belt restraint woven into the headboard.

Blowing my wad on my nightstand and pressing her face into it until she'd licked up all the gooey white jizz.

Choking her leash-like with my belt while she twerked her ass back at me, raised up on her knees and fingertips.

The two of us falling off the bed laughing because her furious cowgirl humping had slid my torso too far off.

I lay there, sweating, heart pounding, head pounding, trying to remember the violence of our furious copulations, afraid and embarrassed to recall the details.

"Where'd this come from?" I asked hoarsely.

"Every so often, I need to get fucked up," Tori breathed. "And fight back. And lose. And have it be ok."

"The fuck does that mean?"

She rolled up her side next to me, blurry and vibrating in the vodka-induced haze. Her eyes went far away, and she unconsciously seemed to lean back.

"Southern California. Where I was born. I'm out walking with my boyfriend, and this Impala pulls up next to us. It was cranberry-colored and there was rust chewing on part of the bumper, and the side panel like that thin piece of trim below the doors, you know?"

I didn't say anything.

"Guy leans out with a hunting shotgun. Its camo colored and I can see the orange sight on the front. And he...he shoots Anthony in the chest. I just stood there, too afraid, too shocked to move. Fight or flight just completely fucking short-circuited. They dragged me into the car punched my lights out and then spent the next couple of days with me in a house out in the desert. You can guess what they were doing."

"Yeah," I choked out.

"I wanted to die," Tori said. "At the end. Fuck, halfway through I wanted to die. Just to make it stop. Because the seconds seemed like hours, and it seemed like that was my life now and forever. Pulled out of high school to become a fleshlight for a bunch of seventy-five IQ gangstas who barely speak intelligible English and trip over their own pants when they run from police. But then when it came time to actually do the dying part, I didn't WANT to so much as I didn't CARE...as long as I got to hurt a few of them first. And I did. When they got tired of...using...me, they sent some new recruit up to finish me off." She smiled wide, showed me her teeth. "I did my very best vampire impersonation when he was on top of me."