May 4, 2002
“You’re mine now,” he said, climbing off of her.
And she rolled over and vomited, heaving and purging. Get it out get it out please, get it out of me. Only bile came up, replacing the taste of his mouth on hers. She could still feel him on top of her, inside her. She couldn’t throw that up.
As she lay there gasping, he grabbed her hair and forced her to look at him, insulted more by this than her silence during his claiming. He’d expected her refusal, for her to beg for him to stop. He heard nothing but silence. Some sort of hollow victory for her, he knew. But he’d won in the end, he always did. That was all that mattered.
But to vomit. To be so blatant about her revulsion. That was different. Throughout, there had been no screams, no curses, and no pleas. Even as he had her, dry and tight and unwilling, she was silent.
It was as if he had no effect upon her. Had she not vomited, he’d have believed it.
She was whimpering now. His grip was too tight, hurting her. She wanted him to let her go. He did.
“Stay there,” he said, suddenly gentle. “Lay down. It’s okay. There’s nothing to cry about.” He pushed her head back onto the pillow. She looked so pretty with her white face, her tear-stained cheeks. “Close your eyes.” She kept gasping, choking on air and her own disgust. “Stop crying.”
I’ll give you something to choke on, stupid whore.
Cold metal parted her lips, flattened her tongue. Briefly touched the back of her throat and made her gag again. “Go on, puke for me just once more. You can spew it out of the hole I’ll put in the back of your head.”
Her hands came up, grabbing at the gun, at his arm, but he only pressed the barrel deeper into her throat. “Pretend it’s my cock.” Her body convulsed as she fought him. Her legs kicking uselessly, sometimes hitting the wall, sometimes only air.
Fingers curled around his wrist as she dug her nails into the tender inside flesh.
“Let go if you know what’s good for you.”
As if she could pull the gun out.
“Let go,” he warned, feeling her nails dig deeper.
“You have to three. One.”
A strangled cry sounded. He smiled.
“Two.” He pulled the gun back slightly and let it tap the roof of her mouth. She released his wrist and let her hands fall to her sides.
For a moment, the two stared at each other, her eyes begging him, her hands stilled and obedient. He smiled and smoothed her hair off her brow. She closed her eyes, repulsed by his touch. He placed the muzzle of the gun against her forehead.
“Look at me, Julie.”