Violation
Author's Note: I am VERY grateful for each and every review that has been submitted regarding this story so far. I had no idea I'd have so many after so few chapters!! Thanks to: Cecilia, Mercy19, Wolfie, Kiss My Slash, sablenemesis and Selena (last but not least!) for taking the time to send in a review for my little story. THANK YOU! You've made me see that I have some talent in writing and that I can do more than just humorous stories.
Now to the serious stuff.....as I mentioned at the beginning of chapter 1, this story will have explicit and graphic descriptions of rape and violence toward my heroine, Bronwyn by Smith and if this kind of thing bothers you, then DO NOT read this chapter. If you are uncomfortable with this subject matter and want to skip this chapter, I will make sure that the story line for subsequent chapters can still be followed.
PLEASE tell me what you think about this chapter! It's the most sexually explicit piece of work that I have ever written, and I thought it was about time I dealt with my own abuse demons, so I decided to do it fictionally.
Once the door had closed, Smith looked at Bronwyn lying face down on the table. "You have no idea how much I am going to enjoy making you my whore. No one, NO ONE, spits in my face and gets away with it, least of all some little slip of a woman with a mouth too big for her own good," he hissed savagely, leaning forward so that his mouth nearly touched her ear and that she had no choice but to listen to what he was saying.
He didn't need to keep her pinned to the table for she was so small in height that with the edge of the table pinching into her hips, her feet couldn't touch the floor, unable to give her any leverage to get up or even move.
Smith straightened up and positioned himself directly behind her. From previous experience in such matters, Bronwyn knew exactly what he was going to do to her. She closed her eyes and tried to prepare herself for the ordeal that was coming. She remembered the words of one of her friends, long since dead now, and the advice she had given Bronwyn on what to do in such a situation:
"When a guy is gonna force you to have sex, the only way to cope is to mentally go to a safe place. Focus on a happy memory in your mind. Think of nothing else. Remember every possible detail and pretend you are there.
Don't move a muscle. Don't make a noise if you can possibly help it, girl, for most of the johns in this world want to hear a woman cry or beg when he is raping her, cuz they like causing pain any way they can, and if they hear that, it helps them get their rocks off.
But unless these guys are really sick bastards, they don't want to have a woman just lie there like a corpse—just let him do what he wants for as long as he wants. If you do like I tell ya, he'll get so frustrated he won't be able to come and maybe he'll leave you alone." God, Alana, I hope you were right, Bronwyn prayed.
Smith pushed her skirt up over her buttocks exposing her underwear and ripped her panties off her body and they fell to the floor.
"You won't be needing those anymore," he gloated. He reached up and loosened his tie and shirt collar. "Might as well make myself comfortable—we're going to be here for a while, aren't we, lover?" he crooned softly. He removed his jacket, laying it on a chair. It was followed by his Desert Eagle pistol and its accompanying shoulder holster, then finally his earpiece. As a precaution, he placed these items far out of her reach
"I thought a little privacy might be nice, from Jones and Brown who might have wanted to listen in to our activities".
He forced them her legs apart to where he wanted them, and braced himself on the table with one hand and with the other, Bronwyn felt him fumble with and then unzip his fly.
Here it comes, she thought, and she bit her lip until it bled so she wouldn't cry out when the agony began as Smith plunged himself deep into her with one sharp and brutal thrust.
Safe place. Safe place. Then it came to her. Of course, the last time she had visited Manhattan had been a long time ago, but memories of special places stay with you forever.....
The stone obelisk behind the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Van Gogh's "Irises". Goya. Monet. Seurat's painting "Sunday in the park". Beautiful, priceless works of art, all within a fingertips reach...
The sensations that raced through Smith's consciousness when he entered Bronwyn were beyond description. He had violated many women during all the years he had been an agent of the Matrix and had enjoyed each encounter thoroughly. Normally Smith took no pleasure in being near humans and had always considered interacting with them to be a repulsive, but necessary, part of his job.
However, being with a woman was a completely different story. He took enormous satisfaction in breaking their spirits either by using violence or possessing them sexually because forced intercourse had been a most effective outlet for his aggravation and anger, especially if their interrogation had yielded little results or was simply taking too long.
Now, however, even though he was completely aroused, Smith was becoming increasingly frustrated and angry at the fact that Bronwyn was silent and unmoving. He wanted to hear her cry out in pain, writhing her body in a futile attempt to get him away from her and stop the agony he knew he was causing her. But she didn't. She lay there in an almost catatonic state, seemingly oblivious to everything; her body was there, being controlled, dominated and subjected to Smith's twisted desires and manipulations, but her mind was elsewhere
The Egyptian Wing. The temple of Dender. A black stone sarcophagus. Rose-colored marble statues of Queen Hapshetsut.....
He quickly pulled himself out of her and just as quickly grabbed Bronwyn by the hips and threw her onto her back and resumed his assault once more.
Smith brought his cheek to hers and the scent of her hair against his nostrils made his senses reel, causing his breathing to become harsh and ragged. Each breath he drew caused a reaction in his body he never knew he could feel, almost like an electrical jolt in his midriff.
He inched his face closer to hers and brought his lips to the soft flesh of her neck, interested to discover what a woman's flesh might actually taste like. The result of that simple gesture staggered and confused him almost beyond comprehension. Why did that have such an effect on me? What has this little bitch done to me, to make me feel this way, and more importantly, how can I make her pay?
Why aren't you struggling, crying out, pleading for me to stop? It's just like fucking a dead body, he raged, and then he got an awful idea. I know how to make you react, you little slut.
Smith took his hand and covered her nose and mouth, preventing her from taking a breath. Let's see if you can ignore this, he thought.
Her lungs and chest began to burn inside her, demanding air, and Bronwyn shook her head from side to side, trying to shake his hand off of her face, but it was no good. Terror began to set in—Oh God, he's trying to kill me! Air! I need air!
She opened her eyes and looked deeply into Smith's eyes for the first time, reviled what she saw there just below the surface; the part of his nature he hid behind the dark sunglasses and suit that was his armor against the world and everything in it. He's so full of hate, she realized. And he's completely fucking insane.
"That's it, give me what I want and you can have all the air you need", he said softly, looking into her panic-stricken eyes. He could feel the tension building in his groin and knew that he was close, very close, to achieving his long overdue climax. He uncovered Bronwyn's mouth and she gasped for air, even arching her back in a desperate attempt to fill her starved lungs as soon as she could.
Smith came immediately afterwards, growling in his throat as he surged deep into her. Wave after wave of almost unbearable pleasure flowed through and over his body, each stroke igniting every cell and nerve ending, bringing every fiber of his being to new levels of ecstasy he had never experienced before.
After the waves of passion had extinguished its flames throughout his body, he collapsed completely letting all of his weight fall on her, panting heavily, until he could get himself under some kind of control again. He waited until all the processes, subroutines and individual programs that governed and monitored his Agent software programming all returned to their normal levels, before raising himself on his elbows and pushing himself up and off of Bronwyn.
She didn't look at him or even open her eyes while he turned his back and adjusted his suit to its familiar pristine order. She heard him walk to the door, and then dared to open her eyes in time to see him reach into a jacket pocket, pull out a billfold and casually and contemptuously throw some bills in her direction.
"Three twenties is more than a $20 whore like you usually makes, I'm sure, but you've earned it," he sneered.
She heard him close the door behind him and his laughter made her cheeks burn with shame and degradation. She felt tears of humiliation start in her eyes,but she willed them away. When she heard his footsteps recede in the distance, Bronwyn got off the table, picked up her torn underwear from the floor, shoved them deep in her purse and smoothed her clothes, trying to focus on doing something, anything that would keep the memory of the last 2 or so hours at bay, until she was better prepared to deal with it.
As she started walking down the hall toward the elevator, she saw Smith leaning negligently against a doorway, leering at her and it took all the acting skill she was capable of to walk past him to the nearby elevator with a steady step and her head held high. She met his gaze boldly without flinching and let not a trace of what she was really feeling show on her face, forcing it to remain blank and impassive.
How dare she walk past me with that haughty attitude? She should be crawling away with shame, not walking with an arrogance no woman should possess after what I did to her. This puzzled and intrigued Smith. She's not afraid of me, he realized. He had been prepared to violate and then forget her, but this new aspect of her nature challenged everything that was male and human-like in his nature.
Author's Note: I am VERY grateful for each and every review that has been submitted regarding this story so far. I had no idea I'd have so many after so few chapters!! Thanks to: Cecilia, Mercy19, Wolfie, Kiss My Slash, sablenemesis and Selena (last but not least!) for taking the time to send in a review for my little story. THANK YOU! You've made me see that I have some talent in writing and that I can do more than just humorous stories.
Now to the serious stuff.....as I mentioned at the beginning of chapter 1, this story will have explicit and graphic descriptions of rape and violence toward my heroine, Bronwyn by Smith and if this kind of thing bothers you, then DO NOT read this chapter. If you are uncomfortable with this subject matter and want to skip this chapter, I will make sure that the story line for subsequent chapters can still be followed.
PLEASE tell me what you think about this chapter! It's the most sexually explicit piece of work that I have ever written, and I thought it was about time I dealt with my own abuse demons, so I decided to do it fictionally.
Once the door had closed, Smith looked at Bronwyn lying face down on the table. "You have no idea how much I am going to enjoy making you my whore. No one, NO ONE, spits in my face and gets away with it, least of all some little slip of a woman with a mouth too big for her own good," he hissed savagely, leaning forward so that his mouth nearly touched her ear and that she had no choice but to listen to what he was saying.
He didn't need to keep her pinned to the table for she was so small in height that with the edge of the table pinching into her hips, her feet couldn't touch the floor, unable to give her any leverage to get up or even move.
Smith straightened up and positioned himself directly behind her. From previous experience in such matters, Bronwyn knew exactly what he was going to do to her. She closed her eyes and tried to prepare herself for the ordeal that was coming. She remembered the words of one of her friends, long since dead now, and the advice she had given Bronwyn on what to do in such a situation:
"When a guy is gonna force you to have sex, the only way to cope is to mentally go to a safe place. Focus on a happy memory in your mind. Think of nothing else. Remember every possible detail and pretend you are there.
Don't move a muscle. Don't make a noise if you can possibly help it, girl, for most of the johns in this world want to hear a woman cry or beg when he is raping her, cuz they like causing pain any way they can, and if they hear that, it helps them get their rocks off.
But unless these guys are really sick bastards, they don't want to have a woman just lie there like a corpse—just let him do what he wants for as long as he wants. If you do like I tell ya, he'll get so frustrated he won't be able to come and maybe he'll leave you alone." God, Alana, I hope you were right, Bronwyn prayed.
Smith pushed her skirt up over her buttocks exposing her underwear and ripped her panties off her body and they fell to the floor.
"You won't be needing those anymore," he gloated. He reached up and loosened his tie and shirt collar. "Might as well make myself comfortable—we're going to be here for a while, aren't we, lover?" he crooned softly. He removed his jacket, laying it on a chair. It was followed by his Desert Eagle pistol and its accompanying shoulder holster, then finally his earpiece. As a precaution, he placed these items far out of her reach
"I thought a little privacy might be nice, from Jones and Brown who might have wanted to listen in to our activities".
He forced them her legs apart to where he wanted them, and braced himself on the table with one hand and with the other, Bronwyn felt him fumble with and then unzip his fly.
Here it comes, she thought, and she bit her lip until it bled so she wouldn't cry out when the agony began as Smith plunged himself deep into her with one sharp and brutal thrust.
Safe place. Safe place. Then it came to her. Of course, the last time she had visited Manhattan had been a long time ago, but memories of special places stay with you forever.....
The stone obelisk behind the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Van Gogh's "Irises". Goya. Monet. Seurat's painting "Sunday in the park". Beautiful, priceless works of art, all within a fingertips reach...
The sensations that raced through Smith's consciousness when he entered Bronwyn were beyond description. He had violated many women during all the years he had been an agent of the Matrix and had enjoyed each encounter thoroughly. Normally Smith took no pleasure in being near humans and had always considered interacting with them to be a repulsive, but necessary, part of his job.
However, being with a woman was a completely different story. He took enormous satisfaction in breaking their spirits either by using violence or possessing them sexually because forced intercourse had been a most effective outlet for his aggravation and anger, especially if their interrogation had yielded little results or was simply taking too long.
Now, however, even though he was completely aroused, Smith was becoming increasingly frustrated and angry at the fact that Bronwyn was silent and unmoving. He wanted to hear her cry out in pain, writhing her body in a futile attempt to get him away from her and stop the agony he knew he was causing her. But she didn't. She lay there in an almost catatonic state, seemingly oblivious to everything; her body was there, being controlled, dominated and subjected to Smith's twisted desires and manipulations, but her mind was elsewhere
The Egyptian Wing. The temple of Dender. A black stone sarcophagus. Rose-colored marble statues of Queen Hapshetsut.....
He quickly pulled himself out of her and just as quickly grabbed Bronwyn by the hips and threw her onto her back and resumed his assault once more.
Smith brought his cheek to hers and the scent of her hair against his nostrils made his senses reel, causing his breathing to become harsh and ragged. Each breath he drew caused a reaction in his body he never knew he could feel, almost like an electrical jolt in his midriff.
He inched his face closer to hers and brought his lips to the soft flesh of her neck, interested to discover what a woman's flesh might actually taste like. The result of that simple gesture staggered and confused him almost beyond comprehension. Why did that have such an effect on me? What has this little bitch done to me, to make me feel this way, and more importantly, how can I make her pay?
Why aren't you struggling, crying out, pleading for me to stop? It's just like fucking a dead body, he raged, and then he got an awful idea. I know how to make you react, you little slut.
Smith took his hand and covered her nose and mouth, preventing her from taking a breath. Let's see if you can ignore this, he thought.
Her lungs and chest began to burn inside her, demanding air, and Bronwyn shook her head from side to side, trying to shake his hand off of her face, but it was no good. Terror began to set in—Oh God, he's trying to kill me! Air! I need air!
She opened her eyes and looked deeply into Smith's eyes for the first time, reviled what she saw there just below the surface; the part of his nature he hid behind the dark sunglasses and suit that was his armor against the world and everything in it. He's so full of hate, she realized. And he's completely fucking insane.
"That's it, give me what I want and you can have all the air you need", he said softly, looking into her panic-stricken eyes. He could feel the tension building in his groin and knew that he was close, very close, to achieving his long overdue climax. He uncovered Bronwyn's mouth and she gasped for air, even arching her back in a desperate attempt to fill her starved lungs as soon as she could.
Smith came immediately afterwards, growling in his throat as he surged deep into her. Wave after wave of almost unbearable pleasure flowed through and over his body, each stroke igniting every cell and nerve ending, bringing every fiber of his being to new levels of ecstasy he had never experienced before.
After the waves of passion had extinguished its flames throughout his body, he collapsed completely letting all of his weight fall on her, panting heavily, until he could get himself under some kind of control again. He waited until all the processes, subroutines and individual programs that governed and monitored his Agent software programming all returned to their normal levels, before raising himself on his elbows and pushing himself up and off of Bronwyn.
She didn't look at him or even open her eyes while he turned his back and adjusted his suit to its familiar pristine order. She heard him walk to the door, and then dared to open her eyes in time to see him reach into a jacket pocket, pull out a billfold and casually and contemptuously throw some bills in her direction.
"Three twenties is more than a $20 whore like you usually makes, I'm sure, but you've earned it," he sneered.
She heard him close the door behind him and his laughter made her cheeks burn with shame and degradation. She felt tears of humiliation start in her eyes,but she willed them away. When she heard his footsteps recede in the distance, Bronwyn got off the table, picked up her torn underwear from the floor, shoved them deep in her purse and smoothed her clothes, trying to focus on doing something, anything that would keep the memory of the last 2 or so hours at bay, until she was better prepared to deal with it.
As she started walking down the hall toward the elevator, she saw Smith leaning negligently against a doorway, leering at her and it took all the acting skill she was capable of to walk past him to the nearby elevator with a steady step and her head held high. She met his gaze boldly without flinching and let not a trace of what she was really feeling show on her face, forcing it to remain blank and impassive.
How dare she walk past me with that haughty attitude? She should be crawling away with shame, not walking with an arrogance no woman should possess after what I did to her. This puzzled and intrigued Smith. She's not afraid of me, he realized. He had been prepared to violate and then forget her, but this new aspect of her nature challenged everything that was male and human-like in his nature.