Disclaimer: i don't own anything, don't sue
Note: Hey guys, its been a while eh? well my computer is the devil and it hardly works, it took me hours to get this far lol. so this is the last chapter in the series, i said that the last time too! lol anyway, i hope you guys like it! I don't think that the last chapter was well liked due to the lack of reviews but if your still a fan of this story then please try and review it, thanks :) Morgan
p.s if you email me and i don't respond for awhile its because of the previously stated devil computer! oh, i'm not going to tell you who the POV is but its not tricky to figure out :)
p.s.s very important- there is a portion of the story that is bold, those are samples of work from the Marquis De Sade! when the quotes are used no one is speaking them, she is thinking or comparing how the persons actions match the writings of the author, whew, ok, i go now :)
He consumed me violently, and with my wrists bound and my pride chained, i could do nothing but beg for more. "You should let me take your picture..." and i did, i certainly did, i would have let him do anything. The bright flash of the camera was no match for the brightness of his smile...those teeth. He had teeth like a wolf, i should have seen the blood dripping from his fangs pooling into the crevices of those lips. Lips that i'm sure had over a thousand stories to tell of girls past...girls just like me. But they never spoke of such things, they moved slow like thick honey, every thing he did, every single movement, seemed to be in slow motion. His wide hands toyed with the camera, or should i say, his gun. His finger pressed down and i was blinded by the light and shot with his bullet. I knew even as it was happening that this was to be my biggest regret, but there was just something about him...something that made me unable to dissapoint.
He had told me about girls, about how they bored him to tears. He said that i seemed different and i know that what i had really heard was bullshit bullshit bullshit, but he made me want to believe him. He had a way about him...charming...condescending...patronizing...mean...overwhelmingly violent...everything one shouldn't want in a suitable suitor. But i knew that it would go nowhere, i knew that what i did with him would be a one time thing. It became perfectly evident that he was the type of guy you simply had a fling with, a guy who was really only good for one thing. He was the type my mother would never approve of or my friends for that matter. But he was just too ripe of an opportunity to pass up...so i decided to slum it.
He didn't dissapoint, it was exactly what i expected it to be. Rough and angry and mean...perfect. He pulled my hair and took hunks out of my skin, he knew exactly how to get me off. He didn't look at me once, he just watched himself in the mirror, he flexed and posed for himself, turning himself on. My pleasure wasn't even a distant thought, he was only interested in his enjoyment. He was like a character straight out of a Marquis De Sade novel. I had written a paper on him in my freshman year but never truly understood his writings until i met sebastian.
He gripped my face and sneered "What does one want when one is engaged in the sexual act? That everything around you give you its utter attention, think only of you, care only for you...every man wants to be a tyrant when he fornicates." He pressed his forearm into my neck "If the objects who serve us feel ecstacy, they are much more often concerned with themselves than with us, and our own enjoyment is consequently impaired. The idea of seeing another person experience the same pleasure reduces one to a kind of equality which spoils the unutterable charms that come from despotism." He forced me to suck on his fingers which tasted like me "If it is the dirty element that gives pleasure to the act of lust, then the dirtier it is, the more pleasurable it is bound to be." He forced himself into unwanted, previously unexplored places, and giggled when i cried "Any enjoyment is weakened when shared."
It was odd, the more disgusting the action, the more i moaned. He would spew words of hate yet my crotch would ark into his waiting hand, i had been betrayed by my own body. It was the first time in my life i had ever been subjected to such behavior. It was the first time i had ever met someone so crude, so callous, so...immoral. After all was said and done he left just like i wanted him too. He left my appartment with a smile and he left me bewildered.
I was by no means a virgin before him. I had my fair share of frat boys, med students, art students, law students, i had, had my fair share of just about every type of guy fathomable...but sebastian...was somthing else entirely...a new species...a completely new gender. After my random trysts with varying college boys i was always left with a sickening feeling of guilt and shame. Even if i had enjoyed myself at the time, afterwords i was always left feeling like a whore which i think is true for most girls, but with him...it was so much more then that. He didn't try to convince me that i wasn't just a cozy hole for him to nestle in. He didn't try to trick me or coerce me. He made it abundantly clear that to him, my whole existence was a joke. I was happy that i'd never have to hear from or see him again...or so i thought.
The screen was flashing with obscenities, bright colors hit my eyes like an explosion of fire works. It was done up so wonderfully, so professionally, so skillfully that i was far to busy admiring the artistic ability of the creator to realize what it was displayed infront of me. I'm pretty positive that my eyes registered the image before my brain did because tears fell down onto the keyboard and for the longest time i couldn't for the life of me figure out why. Once the fog lifted i began to throw things. I pictured his head and threw my merit awards. I pictured his smile and threw my trophies. I pictured his dick and threw my fucking girl scout sashes.
The phone wouldn't stop ringing. Everyone who had ever known me called to congratulate me on my new found profession. Losers that i turned down time and time again called to tell me that they realized they hadn't been missing out on anything special. Mother screamed and went on about scholarships and bursaries, things that at the moment didn't seem very important to me. I lost friends, respect, pride, dignity all in one day. Everyone in the entire world saw me in all my glory with the click of a mouse.
My friends, the ones who stuck around, refused to let it die, they wanted to know, they needed reasons and explanations. "how could you let him do that?" I decided that the easiest excuse was to tell them that he drugged me "he slipped somthing in my marlot, i felt weak and dizzy" and blah blah blah. I knew enough about date rape drugs from watching Oprah and listed off the symptoms in alphabetical order. They chewed it up and swallowed it down because they wanted it to be true. In reality however, the real truth, would be far too much for them to digest.
When i first met him i knew he was bad news, he was just screaming "alterior motive" but he didn't show me everything. If i were to sum him up before the "disaster" i'd say that he was wrong, mean and a snob, which didn't bother me whatsoever because those three adjectives describe me as well. I thought that his faults ended there, a snotty rich boy, who if i dug deeper had normal, even half decent qualities...his best side was my worst invention. I had thought him harmless, not physically, but harmless enough. Now when my friends bring him up i bite my tongue and bide my time until they find a new topic. Now when my friends ask i lower my eyes and simply say "none of this would have happened if he had just lived up to his first impression". They leave it at that and i can see the pity in there eyes.
When i heard tell of his death i felt..nothing really. He wasn't my mortal enemy, he was no cosmic pre assigned lover of mine. He didn't bring tears to me eyes because the stench of him had washed off of me quick enough and i couldn't be bothered to feign remorse. Sebastian wasn't the kind of boy you cared about, or loved. I don't care that he lived and i care less that he died. He didn't inspire me to write sonnets or love songs. I never once spilled my blood over him or changed my eating habits. I never lost a wink of sleep and when he did infact die, the world didn't shift, nothing was thrown off balance, if it wasn't for my mother i wouldn't have even known and i would never have thought to ask about him. Sebastian had no qualities that made me swoon or sway. He had no qualities that i loved or respected. I was never weak in the knees and nothing inside of me has melted or hardened at the thought of his face. Sebastian was good for but one thing. No i don't care that he died, i don't care that at one very low point in my life he fucked me over in all imaginable ways. Sebastian Valmont was a loser, a lost punk that apparently got in way over his head, he never was anything at all. Nope, i couldn't have possibly cared less whether he existed or not, he only had one thing that ever made me momuntarily insane. Sebastian valmont is incredibly dead, incredibly and undeniably dead...but he still gets me off.