A VERY DARK ANGEL

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Summary

A VERY DARK ANGEL A VERY DARK ANGEL is the first instalment of a four-part series of dark, hilarious novellas. The story begins when a dazed and confused young woman awakes groggily to find herself in a basement. As her faculties slowly return, she realises that she is naked and tied to a table. Then she sees him, her captor standing in front of her, leering. The victim, helpless and vulnerable, the captor in total control, and a nightmare is about to unfold. Somebody is in trouble. The Rapist threatens her, and the young woman, Doddie, is quite annoyed, because if somebody is threatening to rape and kill her, she would like the threats to be coherent and well-constructed. The Rapist undresses, but instead of being terrified, his victim is now hurling insults at him and body-shaming him. Somebody is in trouble, although it may not be the naked woman tied to the table. The Rapist is becoming increasingly unsettled. Instead of begging for her life, this victim is correcting his English and insulting him, and she also knows things that she shouldn’t know. How does she know about his previous two victims? How does she know that he has a knife in the basement? And what does the strange tattoo over her heart mean? One thing is quite clear; somebody is going to die on this night.

Genre:
Fantasy / Humor
Author:
bjwhittenbury
Status:
Complete
Chapters:
5
Rating:
n/a
Age Rating:
13+

CHAPTER ONE

She awoke with a throb in her head, and she grimaced. The throb was annoying and a little painful, because it was like the Hunchback of Notre Dame was ringing his damn bell inside her skull, the clang reverberating and rattling through her delicate membranes.

She felt sluggish and drowsy, and her throat felt as if her saliva had turned into sand. Extremely uncomfortable, she gulped, hoping to encourage moisture to dampen her parched throat, although the gulp had the effect of increasing the intensity of the throb in her head. In pain, uncomfortable pain, a moment ticked by and her pain was briefly replaced by a swirl of confusion, as she became aware of a tick, or a tock.

She opened her eyes, and she saw the clock on the wall in front of her, the second-hand ticking over with mechanical precision, and strangely, or pleasantly, the throb in her head seemed to be running in synch with the staccato rhythm. The clock showed 1.23, although she didn’t know whether it was 1.23am or… ohhh, wait … The minute hand had made a barely discernible move, and it was now 1.24.

1.24 in the day or night? she wondered.

Confused and unsettled, she bit her bottom lip as she gazed around. She was in a room, a dark, gloomy room, a single light bulb offering dull light, and the light allowed her to see that it was now 1.25.

She saw that the wall clock was round in shape, as most wall clocks were; and it featured black numerals on a white background. The numerals were in English, which was good. She didn’t like some of the modern clocks that featured Roman numerals, because while she understood the Roman numerals, a few social activists from California wouldn’t understand them, and other social activists from New York would be offended by them. She could imagine a social activist from California asking, Hey, what time is it? And another social activist would look at the round wall clock with Roman numerals, and reply, It’s XI past IV. In New York, a social activist would ask, Hey, what time is it? And another social activist would reply, I am offended by this clock, because the Roman Empire was indicative of Establishment Authoritarianism Imperialism, so I refuse to acknowledge this clock.

She liked clocks in English numerals, because it helped social activists know what time it was, or maybe for social activists from California and New York, digital clocks were the best and easiest to understand option. She especially liked the old-style round wall clocks in English numerals that had the four little strokes between the English numerals, and except maybe for social activists from California and New York, most people could figure out the exact time. Recently, she saw a triangle wall clock, and while it did have English numerals, they were pink numerals, and the background was red, and alarmingly, all the numerals were squashed into the right hand corner of the clock, while the left hand side of the clock was blank. While she understood that some designers needed to let their creative sides run free, they should let their creative side run free with anything bar wall clocks. If a social activist from California had of been looking at that strange triangle clock with her, and if that activist had asked her, Hey, what time is it? She would have shook her head in bemusement and replied, Golly jingles, I’m not sure. She liked the wall clock in this gloomy room though, because it was a good old-fashioned, easy to read, round wall clock. Centred below the middle of the clock, and above the numeral 6, was the word Swisse, and she wondered whether all clocks were made in Switzerland. Surely other countries could make clocks too. Some countries can make nuclear bombs, and some countries can make rocket-ships that flew to the moon, so surely Switzerland wasn’t the only country who could make round wall clocks with evenly spaced, black English numerals on a white background. She looked at the clock and wondered; if it is 1.25 in New York, what time would it be in Switzerland? Although she understood that it probably wasn’t important. Except to Swiss people. And Swiss clock-makers.

She decided that when the minute hand made the barely discernible move to 1.26, she would then count the ticks from the clock, because she wanted to confirm that there were actually sixty ticks to the minute. It should be easy to do she considered, because the throb in her head had fallen into perfect synch with the ticks.

Although something was strange. She didn’t recognise the clock that had been made in Swisse, and she didn’t recognise this room, and even stranger was the fact that she seemed to be lying down. She lifted her head, and a quick double throb rattled in her brain, although at 1.27, it was confirmed, she was lying down. On a table.

A funny kind of table.

Sherested her head back and waited for the throbs to re-synch with the ticks, and then she slowly processed what she had seen.

The table she was lying on was wooden, maybe six feet in length and four feet wide, and the lower half of the table had been cut away, leaving only a six-inch panel on each side. Funnily, although not really funnily, more strangely, or, worryingly; she noticed that the six-inch panels were where her ankles had been tied with rope. A cursory glance to her left, then right, confirmed that her wrists were also tied to the table. If a social activist from New York had of asked her, Hey, what time is it? She would have replied abruptly, Don’t worry about what time it is, because I seem to be tied down on this funny table! Although she did notice that it was 1.28. And, she assumed, she was at Point A.

Squeezing down on another grimace, she had a more thorough look around, and during the thorough look, she saw … him.

She bit down on her bottom lip, perhaps a little too hard, for she yelped, “Ouch!”

The man turned at the sound, looked at her, and then he smiled as he said brightly, “Ohhh, hello, you’re back with us.”

She snapped her head to the right, her arms spread-eagled at shoulder height, and she yanked both of her arms upwards, but it was futile, because as she had already confirmed, both of her wrists were tied to the table.

It was 1.29.

She could barely lift her head, but she raised it groggily, then looked down. Her legs were pyramided apart, and that was not at all to her liking, because most times that she lay on tables, she would keep her legs together, more for the modesty aspect than anything else; but her legs were quite obviously not together, and she could do nothing about it, because both of her ankles were tied securely to the panels at the end of the table.

“Did you have a nice sleep?” he asked.

The throb in her skull kicked up a notch as she shivered.

“Are you going to answer me?” he asked.

She looked at him; black hair, glasses, a wispy goatie on his chin.

It was 1.30.

She recognised him, and she asked meekly, “Wh-where am I?”

“I thought that would have been obvious,” he replied, “You’re at my place.”

She didn’t like the unfriendly smirk on his face, and she cared not for the dangerous twinkle in his eyes, so she mumbled, “Excuse me…”

“What?”

“S-somebody tied me to this table.”

He ran his eyes down the length of the table, then met her eyes as he said, “Yes, I believe you’re right.”

Timidly, she asked, “Can, can you untie me?”

The man walked in through the cut-away section and stood before her, his hips rubbing against her bare thighs.

She was slightly annoyed that the man didn’t respond to her request, so she assumed that if she added an adverb to her request, he may be more responsive. She said, “Please, can you untie me?”

“No.”

She lifted her face as she felt his hands rubbing over her thighs, and she said meekly, “Ummm, excuse me…”

“What?”

“I just noticed something.” she said nervously.

“Ohhh, what did you just notice?”

“I, I don’t appear to be wearing any clothes.”

He nodded and smiled, then said, “Yes, I noticed that as well.”

Unsure of what had happened, although fairly certain of where they would end up, she said hesitantly, “Well maybe you could untie me, gather my clothes for me, and then you know…”

He waited, then asked, “Then what?”

“I, I’ll be on my way.”

He laughed.

She looked at him pleadingly as she said, “Yes, so please untie me, because I have things to do today.”

Wanting his victim to fully appreciate her current situation, he ran his hands over the rope binding her wrists, then he asked smugly, “Are you comfortable?”

She thought that was a stupid question, although seeing as he had asked the question, the polite thing to do would be to issue a response. “Thank-you for asking, but no, I am not comfortable, in fact I am very uncomfortable, so please, untie me.”

Confident, and aroused by the darkest of desires, he looked at her as he said, “Can I ask you something?”

Un-nerved by his dark expression, she replied quietly, “Untie me and then you can ask me whatever you like.”

“Well no, I won’t untie you, but do you realise what’s happening here?”

She thought about it, then replied nervously, “Ummm, ummm, I think you’re going to untie me and then we can talk about what’s happening, and hey, I’ll make you a coffee or something.”

“Let’s have a look at this, I mean let’s have a look at your current situation,” he began, as he ran his hands over her hips, “You’re naked and tied to a table in my basement, so…”

She waited for him continue, although when he didn’t, she asked as pleasantly as she was able, “Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

The most important thing in her immediate future was that she needed this man to untie her, because the table was quite scratchy on her back, and she also needed to divert his attention away from her, so she asked weakly, “Do you take sugar with your coffee?”

He ignored her as he ran his hands up her smooth thighs then asked, “Do you like this table, it’s my own design.”

“Ummm, I’d feel a lot more comfortable if you would kindly untie me so that I can gather my clothes.”

He smiled as he stated, “The table, I cut out the lower section so that I would be able to waltz right up to where the action takes place, and yeah, it’s the perfect height for me to, to, you know.”

Hesitant, nervous, she mumbled, “If, if you’re going to untie me and I’m going to make you a coffee, I’ll need to know if you take milk with your coffee.”

“Maybe we’ll just forget about the coffee okay,” he grinned. “Maybe we should concentrate on what’s going to happen in the very near future.”

His expression had darkened considerably, so she said shakily, “Yes, what a good idea, and I will thank-you in advance for untying me.”

“No, no, that’s not going to happen, I mean come on, think about it, try and figure out what’s going to happen here.”

“Ummm, ummm, we’ll go upstairs, I’ll make you a coffee and then you can drop me off somewhere.” she replied.

He shook his head and laughed. “I’m not sure whether you’re a smart-ass or whether you’re just really stupid.”

The full gravity of the situation hit her. She was naked and tied to a table, and a smirking man stood before her. Yes, clearly she was at Point A, although quite obviously, the man wasn’t going to untie her at this point in time, and he didn’t seem interested in her offer to make him a coffee, so her future could be grim, although she did feel the need to make him aware of something. She didn’t like being called stupid, and she didn’t like people assuming that she was stupid just because she was a very pretty blonde, and that included people that she didn’t really know all that well. She didn’t know much about this man, although she did know what he had done, and that was why both of them were currently at Point A. Moving to Point B was the logical thing to do, although she tarried, because she didn’t want anyone, and that included her victims to think that she was stupid. The adjective stupid meant; lacking in understanding or common sense; silly, foolish, and calling her stupid was stupid. She said quietly, “Ummm, excuse me, I can help you there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not stupid, I’m quite intelligent.”

“So what, that means that you’re a smart-ass?”

She was a bit of a smart-ass … actually, she was more than a bit of a smart-ass, she was a skilled high-level smart-ass; and the word smart, when used as an adjective was more appropriate to her than stupid was, so she replied curtly, “Well, I wouldn’t have put it as crudely as that.”

“So you may be a smart-ass, but you’re something else as well.”

“What?”

“You Doddie my girl, are one fine piece of ass!”

“You know my name?”

“Yeah, you told me last night.”

She felt so vulnerable, so exposed, so, so…endangered. And excited.

People don’t tie other people to tables unless their intentions were less than honourable, and from their very brief discussion so far, she understood that this man’s intentions were anything but honourable. Realising that she needed to distract him, she asked quietly, “Are there any businesses in New York that make wall clocks?”

He seemed puzzled, although he said brightly, “Who cares, I’m more interested in the fun I’m going to have with you!”

Things appeared to be heading down a dark path, so she said, “I remember you from last night, I met you in that student bar.”

He nodded.

“You brought me a drink.” she said, then added, “So yes, I don’t remember thanking you, so thank-you, thank-you for the drink.” She saw an evil glint in his eye, so she asked nervously, “So you go to College?”

“Yes I do, my sweet little Doddie.”

She wanted to keep him talking and steer the focus away from her, so she asked, “What are you studying?”

“It doesn’t really matter my love, for right at the moment, I’m studying you.”

She understood. The man leering at her thought that he was in total control, and in the very early stages of Point A, maybe he was. It appeared that his focus was going to remain on her, so she said, “Excuse me, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Did you, did you…”

“What?”

She drew in a breath, then asked quietly, “Did you spike my drink?”

His right hand skimmed up her body and settled on her left breast. “Somebody may have sprinkled a little additive into your drink.” he replied.

For a moment she watched him caressing her breast, then she rested her head back and asked, “Ohhh, did you see who spiked my drink?”

He shook his head in amusement, then said, “Pretty little Doddie, if you’re quite intelligent, maybe you should be able to figure it out.”

“Are you saying that you spiked my drink?” she asked timidly.

He smiled as he replied, “I was actually quite surprised that a hot bitch like you let a complete stranger buy her a drink.”

She wasn’t offended by being called a hot bitch, although she would have preferred hot girl, or even better, very attractive young woman; and she didn’t want to tell him the real reason why she had accepted his offer, so she said, “Ummm, I was thirsty.”

“Yeah, so lucky me.”

Doddie liked having her breasts caressed, although not in situations like this, so she muttered, “Ummm, excuse me…”

“What?”

“Could you stop doing that please.”

“No, sorry, I’m enjoying it.”

“Well I’m not enjoying it, so please stop.”

The man laughed.

Doddie glanced at the clock, 1.42; then she turned back to look at him, and she assumed that because of the leering expression on his face, the man roughly pawing her breasts thought that he was in total control. And he was … at the moment. She blew out a breath and said crisply, “Anyway, like I said, I have things to do today, so if you’d kindly untie, I’ll be on my way.”

“No, no, understand something, I mean think about this; I spiked your drink and now you’re lying naked and tied to my specially designed table.”

“Excuse me…”

“What?”

“I don’t like being tied to a table.”

“Relax, you’ll get used to it.”

“No, I don’t think I will, because the table is scratchy on my back, and normally when I lie on a table, I lie with my legs together, so if you could kindly untie me and give me my clothes, I’ll make you a coffee, and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Fuck!” he laughed. “You just don’t get it!”

“Get what?”

“You ain’t going nowhere, I mean here, this is where you’re going to spend your last few days.”

She tensed, and then asked quietly, “Ummm, my last few days until what?”

“Figure it out, put two and two together!”

She breathed out nervously and said, “Two and two is four.”

“Wow, you are intelligent, and yeah, maybe that’s how many days you have left.”

She felt uncomfortable by the ominous message of his statement, and she did have things to do on this day, so she assumed that she should lay it on the line. “I certainly don’t want to agitate you sir, but I feel that I have to be honest with you at this particular moment…”

“Go on.”

“I don’t appreciate what you’re implying, and I would very much like to gather my things and be on my way.”

“Fuck me!” he laughed. “Okay, I’ll spell it out for you; Doddie my love, you are going to spend the last few days of your life tied to this table, and I will fuck you whenever I want, and when I’m bored with you, I will kill you.”

He was surprised that she didn’t gasp in shock, instead she simply kept staring at him.

It was 1.47 when Doddie said, “Excuse me…”

“What?” he asked.

“You sir, are making me very uncomfortable, and I’m finding your attitude towards me quite unpleasant, so untie me, and I’m sorry, but because of your attitude, I withdraw my offer to make you a coffee.”

He rocked back and laughed. “Fuck, you’re unbelievable!”

“Untie me now, or else I will report you to the Dean of your College, and oohhh, sorry, what was your name again?”

“I’m quite happy for you to keep calling me sir.”

“Okay, have it your way, but please untie me now. If you refuse to untie me, I will have no other option, and, I must emphasis that this is no idle threat; if you don’t untie me, I will report you to the Dean of your College!”

“We just discussed that you don’t remember my name!”

Doddie did know his name, and she also knew what he had done, but he didn’t need to know that at this stage. The quickest way to get from Point A to Point B was in a direct line, although Doddie liked taking little diversions, so she would travel from Point A to Point A (north), then because she was a premium grade smart-ass, she would duck back to Point A (west), and at 1.48, she decided that it was time to let the smart-ass side of her nature run free. “Okay, I understand that we should proceed one step at a time, so good sir, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“What is your name, your full name?”

He laughed ungenerously as he replied, “Pretty one, little naked Doddie, I’m just about to fuck you!”

She shook her head in annoyance, then asked, “We may come back to that, but first things first; what is your full name, and then to make identification failsafe, what is your date of birth, and ohhh, do you have a student identification card that I can look at to verify your details?”

“No, let’s forget about me, because like I said, I’m going to fuck you again!”

She tensed, then she mumbled hesitantly, “Did, did you say again?”

He nodded. “Well, yeah.”

“Ummm, I don’t seem to remember you…ummm, you know, doing what you said.”

“Yeah, I think you were still, arrrhhh, resting when I fucked you.”

She stared at him, then said with a measure of disgust, “You mean raped me.”

“What?”

“You didn’t do, ummm, what you said, you raped me, because you didn’t have my consent.”

“Okay, raped you, yes, fair enough, although I should point out that I don’t need your consent because you’re my prisoner.”

She stared at him then said sternly, “On my list of things to do today, being someone’s prisoner was definitely not on the list, and I’m feeling very uncomfortable about being tied to this scratchy table when I haven’t got any clothes on, so good sir, untie me immediately!”

“Doddie, understand this, I am not going to untie you!”

Doddie was deep in thought until she said, “Thinking about this, you admitted to raping me, so I’m sorry, I am now obligated to report you to the police and also the Dean of your College, and obviously I can’t do that if I’m still tied down, so please, untie me!”

He smirked as he asked, “So if I untie you, you’ll report me to the police and also to my college?”

“Yes, I believe that would be the most appropriate course of action.”

“Okay, well I won’t untie you then.”

Doddie pondered, then asked, “If I withdraw my threat to report you to the police and the Dean of your college, you will release me?”

“No.”

“Ohhh goodness me!” she huffed. “Tell me what I need to do to make you release me.” Then she added quickly, “And sorry, no, because of your ungracious attitude, I will not make you a coffee.”

“Jesus, you’re unreal!” he began, “Just understand this, you got raped, and I will rape you again.”

Doddie was stunned, although she regathered quickly and said, “Ummm, excuse me…”

“What?”

Doddie didn’t want to agitate this young man, because she was uncomfortable in so many ways, but if he was going to threaten her, she would like the threats to be coherent and well-constructed. “Your last statement.” she mumbled.

“What about it, you’re scared now?”

“No, not scared, more concerned.”

“Concerned?”

“Yes, I find the last statement you made very concerning, because you’re presenting subject confusion.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“In the first part of your statement, you’re making me the subject of the statement, and then in the second part of the statement, you’re making yourself the subject.”

“So what?”

“The correct statement should have been; I have raped you, and I will rape you again.”

“Yeah, what, you’re an English teacher?”

“No, although I am someone who has respect for the language, so I found your statement very concerning. You either make me the subject of the whole statement, or else you make yourself the subject, do you understand?”

“Look, the important thing is that I’m going to rape you again.”

“Ummm, excuse me…”

“What?”’

“It appears that you were wanting to issue an instruction or a direction to me, although I would suggest that you used the incorrect intransitive verb.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You should have used the word listen, instead of look.

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, it does. The correct lead-off word for the statement should have been, listen, and I would have understood that you wanted me to listen to you. So the statement should have been, Listen, the important thing is that I’m going to rape you again.”

“Fuck me, do you realise what’s actually going on here?”

She rolled her eyes, and said mockingly; “Ohhh dear, the word actually is superfluous in that question, because you could have asked, Do you realise what’s going on here?”

“Forget about that, the point is that you’re tied to a table, and I’m gunna rape you again!”

“Going to.” she replied timidly.

“What?”

“You’re not gunna rape me again, you’re going to rape me again.”

“Fucking shit!” he blew out in disbelief.

“You also said, The point is that you’re tied to a table, when I’m sure what you meant to say was, the fact, or the reality is that you’re tied to a table.”

“I can’t believe this!” he laughed.

“Ummm, excuse me…”

“What?”

“I’m sure you meant to say, I don’t believe this. Using can’t in that sentence means that you are incapable of believing, when obviously you are capable of believing, so you should have used the word don’t instead of can’t

“Okay, well forget about all that, and just look at where we are right at this moment; you’re naked and tied to a table, and I am going to, I mean I’m busting to rape you.”

Doddie nodded her head, then advised in a motherly fashion, “Yes, I understand what your intentions are, but be careful with your verb confusion.”

“No, shut up! No more talking about English, and I mean like what the fuck, you should be terrified instead of sprouting out all this bullshit!”

Doddie was stunned, then she shook her head and asked with a hint of amusement, “Ohh dear, where do I start with that statement?”

“No, don’t talk about what I say, just shut up!”

“Excuse me Mister, I’m just trying to help you.”

“I don’t want no help, I just want you to shut up while I rape you.”

“Boy ohhh boy, what are they teaching you at College these days, because your English is very poor.”

“Seriously, you’re starting annoy me.”

Doddie was affronted, and she huffed, “Do you want to know something?”

“What?”

“I’m lying naked and tied to a scratchy table, and you’re threatening to rape me, so you’re starting to annoy me as well!”

“My aim is not to annoy you, it’s to scare you and be hurting you, see?”

“I understand that, but again, be careful with your verb confusion.”

“Fuck this!”

He undressed quickly, stroked himself, then moved towards her. As he was guiding himself towards her, she called out, “Wait!”

“What?”

“I just decided that I don’t want you to rape me, and effectively that means that you do not have my consent, so please, untie me.”

He shook his head in amusement, then said, “You don’t get a choice here, this is all about me, this all about what I want.”

“Can we talk about it?”

“No!”

“Can we do a deal?”

“What kind of deal?”

“Let me go, and I won’t tell anybody about this, I promise.”

“You don’t seem to understand that this isn’t about you, I mean I’ll keep you for a few nights, fuck the shit out of you, and then kill you is what I do.”

“Goodness me!” she gasped in shock.

“Ohhh yeah,” he grinned. “This is more like it, seeing you scared shitless!”

“Excuse me, I’m not scared, I’m horrified!”

“What?”

“You said, Kill you is what I do! Good heavens, if you plan to rape me and then kill me, at least have the decency to construct the sentence coherently and show a little respect for the language.”

“You’re fucking crazy!” he blurted, then he began moving towards her.

“Wait!”

“What now?”

“Let me up, because I need to have a very serious discussion with your English teacher!”

“Hey Bright Eyes, I want you to understand this, I’m going to fuck you!”

“Ummm, excuse me…”

“What?”

“You mean rape me.”

“Yes, rape you, yes.”

“Good sir, let’s take a moment to think about things. We just discussed that you don’t have my consent, and I would like you to respect my feelings, so kindly untie me, and I’ll be on my way.”

He’d clearly had enough, and he moved towards her again.

“Wait, stop!”

“What?” he roared.

Doddie was very unsettled, and she glanced at the clock; 1.53, and she asked, “Do you know what time it is in Switzerland?”

He shook his head in bemusement, then he moved forward.

“Wait!”

“Fuck, what?” he snorted.

Turning away from him, she said, “I understand that your intention is to rape me, and clearly, you’re going to ignore the fact that you don’t have my consent, so I need you to do something for me.”

“What?”

With her gaze still averted, she said quietly, “Get dressed.”

“What?”

“Get dressed…please.”

“No, fuck you.”

She huffed in annoyance, then looked at him as she said, “No please, I want you to understand that seeing you completely naked makes me want to, to…”

“What?”

She glared at him and then stated, “Seeing you completely naked makes me want to vomit!”

Affronted, he glared at her.

“So please, get dressed and then you can do whatever you need to do.” she said, then she added quickly, “And don’t take the last part of my statement as me consenting, because I want to make it very clear that I do not consent.”

“Listen bitch, you don’t tell me what to do!”

“I wasn’t telling you what to do, I was making a request.”

“You dumb bitch, you don’t get to tell me what to do, and you don’t get to make requests, so just shut the fuck up!”

Hesitantly, she spluttered out, “No, please, seeing you naked is traumatising me.”

“Fuck, it doesn’t matter how you’re feeling, because in a few days time you’ll be dead!”

“Ohhh, ohhh wait!”

“What?”

“You’re going to kill me?”

He seemed confused, then he nodded uncertainly and mumbled, “Well yeah, eventually.”

She drew in a breath, then asked, “Can I make another request?”

“What?”

She closed her eyes, sighed and then said, “Kill me now…please!”

He brightened as he panted, “Yeah, yeah, this is more like it, seeing you terrified!”

She opened her eyes and looked at him as she said, “I’m not terrified, I’m traumatised by, by…”

“By what?”

“I’m traumatised by seeing,” she lifted her face to look straight at him as she said, “I’m traumatised by seeing your fat, flabby body.”

“What?”

“Most fat, murdering rapists keep their clothes on when they rape their victims!”

He was stunned, yet defensive, and he shouted, “I’m not fat!”

She turned away from him and coughed out a laugh as she said quietly, “Wow, you really are delusional.”

“What?” he roared.

“No, nothing.”

“You called me fat!”

“Did I?”

“Yes, you did!”

“Well maybe that’s because…”

“What?”

She looked at him timidly, fluttered her eye-lashes, then said, “Maybe that’s because you are.”

He stood straight and tried to suck his belly in as he said, “I am not fat!”

“Sure,” she agreed, then she added cheekily, “Blubber-Boy.”

Because of the intense personal scrutiny and harsh comments, his erection had disappeared, although he did feel the need to defend himself. “I’m in the normal weight range for my height!” he declared.

“Ohhh, give me a break!” she blurted out.

“I am!”

“You’ve got a spare tyre around your stomach, your bum cheeks droop halfway down the back of your thighs, you’ve got bigger boobs than me, so I’m thinking that you’re in the normal weight range for a baby hippo!”

“You fucking bitch!” he screamed.

“You fat hippo!” she screamed back.

“I, I don’t give a fuck what you think, but I have to tell you, I may be marginally overweight, but that’s only because I have big bones.”

“Well I’d like to tell you something…”

“What?”

“The big bones have got plenty meat on them,” she said calmly, then she yelled, “Fat-Boy!”

Fuming, he snarled, “Crazy fucking bitch!”

She pushed up as far as she was able and looked at his groin, then blew out in relief. “Thank God your boner’s gone down, because I’d die of embarrassment if I got raped by a baby hippo!”

“Idiot, you fucking idiot, I already raped you once!”

She grimaced, and then said with a measure of disgust, “Yes, when the time comes to punish you, I will remember that.”

“Punish me?” he laughed. “You’re gunna get punished by me raping you again!”

Her eyes were blazing as she said, “When I report this to the police, I’ll tell them that they’re looking for a baby hippo who wasn’t paying attention in his English classes!”

Angry now, he moved to the side of the table and glared at her. “One more word out of you, and I will hurt you.”

“What? I thought you were going rape me, but wait, what’s this?”

“What?”

“I can’t even see your penis now, and maybe that’s because it’s buried under the flab of your stomach!”

He drew back and punched her in the face. She shuddered with the impact, then yelled, “Police, police, this naked fat guy is threatening to punch me!”

Enraged, he shook his head in confusion as he said, “Hey bitch, I did punch you!”

She pushed up and snorted, “Police, police, the naked fat guy punches like a three-year-old girl!”

He drew back and punched her hard. Her head banged into the table, and she shuddered, then she stabilized as she yelled theatrically, “Police, police, he’s the most pitiful rapist ever, because he claims that he punched me, but I didn’t feel anything!”

He snorted. “Hey fuckwit, your nose is bleeding!”

She composed herself, then nodded as she said, “Ohhh, I forgot to tell you, I’m a bleeder, I mean a change in the weather can cause my nose to bleed.”

“No, no, no, that was me, I made your nose bleed!”

She glanced at him, then asked, “Boner, where’s the boner gone?”

He hunched his shoulders, then snarled, “In a minute, it’s going to be shoved into your big mouth!”

They stared at one another, until she asked, “You’re calling my mouth big? Have you had a look in the mirror to see how big your ass is?”

He skulked away, and with his shoulders heaving, he tried to control his racing mind. When he settled, he turned to face her, then said threateningly, “If you say another word, I’m going to wrap a gag around your mouth.”

Staring at him, she said, “No.”

“What?”

“Don’t wrap a gag around my mouth.”

“Why?”

“Blind-fold me instead.”

“Why?”

“I thought it would be obvious,” she began, “That way I won’t have to see your flab bouncing around all over the place!”

“I’m not fat!” he yelled.

“Ohhh God,” she whined, “You’d take up two seats on a plane, and when the All-You-Can-Eat restaurants saw you coming, they’d close the doors, and if you were in the hippo enclosure, the other hippo’s would be giving you vouchers to the weight loss centres!”

“Okay, that’s it!”

He began stroking himself, sneering at her.

She raised her face and watched, then said, “Thank goodness, it’s still floppy.”

“Shut up!” he yelled as he turned away from her and stroked harder.

“Great.” she sighed.

“What?” he asked sullenly.

“Now I can see your fat ass.”

The erection had reappeared, and he moved in between her legs. “Here we go bitch!” he snarled.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know what time it is in Switzerland.”

“Fuck Switzerland, idiot!” he roared as he moved closer.

“Wait!”

“What, what the fuck now?”

“I don’t like triangle wall clocks!”

Rattled, he took a moment to observe her. She was very pretty, and her body was almost perfect, although there was something mighty strange about this chick. She should be begging for her life, instead she was correcting his English, hurling insults at him and coming out with the most bizarre statements. Maybe he had sprinkled a little too much stuff into her drink, and it had sent her off into cuckoo-land. With a more compassionate tone, he said, “Hey, just relax okay, and you know, just be quiet while I fuck you.”

“You mean rape me.”

“Yeah, sure, rape you.”

“Mister, I don’t want you to rape me.”

“If you like shut up for a minute, well then I’ll be gentle, and who knows, you might even enjoy it.”

She produced a demure smile, then said, “When it comes to picking sexual partners, I can afford to be picky and choosey, because I’m sure you’ll agree that I am quite attractive, and I don’t have sex with fat men, especially fat men who obviously have no respect for the English language, so if you wouldn’t mind, kindly move away from me.”

“This is not sex, what I’m going to do to you is an act of violence!” he yelled.

“Ohhh, maybe not.” she replied.

“What?”

“Your boners going down, it’s shrivelling up like a little baby shrimp.”

He rushed around to the side of the table, drew his fist back, then punched her.

Continue Reading Next Chapter
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