For Berty (187 hits)
Category: RomanceRating: 1 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by LittleMonster (View user info) at 2008-04-17 17:56:35 EDT
He hates her. He hates the way her mouth moves and the endless drivel that she can't help but spew forth if anyone pauses for breath in the conversation. He hates the way she plays with her hair when she flirts and he hates her laugh when they flirt back. The smug, self-satisfied confidence she swaggers around his apartment with infuriates him. He has to sit on his clenched fists to stop himself from poking out those large doe eyes of hers and she still smiles at him, the patient, patronizing smile of the content. She refuses to leave him alone to enjoy his apathy towards the world. She stubbornly drags over an endless parade of friends, quietly willing him to make an effort for once.
He turns up the TV to drown out the sound of her singing along to the radio whilst cooking dinner. He tunes out and daydreams of walking in there and forcing her hand in to the pan of boiling potatoes. The vivid picture of her screaming in agony brought a rare smile flickering across his lips. His brief moment of respite from her endless onslaught came to an abrupt end when she called out to him;
"Darling, would you be a love and nip out for me? I've forgotten the cream for my sauce"
He sat in silence. He knew he should just go get her the cream, but he couldn't make his legs move. The resentment and rage began to surface again. The injustice of having to spend his evening sitting through another seemingly endless dinner party with her friends made bile rise in his throat. The same bullshit from the same people, just going under a different name. The ridiculous blatant one-up-man ship and chest beating by boys pretending to be men. It was all he could do through these 'evenings' to not drive his fork in to the hand of the person sat next to him. All the while she would smile at him encouragingly. He would sneer back in return. He was never subtle; he never tried to hide his distaste for these occasions. If nothing else it would do these people good to feel a genuine emotion, even if it was only loathing for him. She would always look crushed by the end of the evening and shortly after the main course people would make their excuses to go, embarrassed at the hostility.
No. Not this time. He turned off the TV with the remote and languidly strolled in to the kitchen. She was facing away from him stirring and diligently tending to what ever simmered in the pots. He sidled up close behind her and leant forward so he spoke directly into her ear. She flinched slightly at his closeness and the aggression with which he whispered to her.
"Get it yourself, you lazy fucking bitch"
She slowly turned around to face him. A small nervous smile and inquiring eyes searched his face to see if he was joking. He kept his face impassive; he couldn't even bring himself to pretend he was winding her up. He expected her to cry, to see her perfect little nose crumple and a flush to come to her cheeks. He didn't expect her to slap him. The resounding crack and stinging in his cheek caused him to stumble back a few paces. She came after him and hit him again and again. In between blows she swore at him and then started to sob.
Oh how he loved to see her cry. Her struggle to regain control, to contain and hurt him. It surprised him how the strength and anger in her tiny hands could still make his flesh sting and draw blood from his lip. It reminded him somewhat wistfully of the futile beatings his mother would grace him with when she no longer felt he respected her. He wasn't sure when exactly he became aware of his arousal. He was only slightly aware of taking her flailing hands in his own and crushing his lips to her mouth.
She pushed him away and stared at him as a animal would its tormentor.
"Get the fuck away from me". She screamed. Her voice was horse form holding back the chocking sobs.
He forcefully kissed her again and dragged her to her knees on the grubby worn out tiles. Taking her hair in his hands her bent her over. Disappointingly she was no longer fighting him, slightly to the contrary, she was no longer struggling at all. He roughly hitched her skirt to her waist and pressed his mouth to her already damp thong. Her back arched and he found himself feeling mildly repulsed. Her creamy skin turned red under his grasping hands, he turned her on to her back and thrust his already probing fingers into her pliable folds. He motioned her internally to come towards him and she responded with an audible moan from her wet, soft lips.
He let go of her hair and grabbed at her breast and relished in her gasp of pain as he squeezed her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Her eyes closed and her hand reached out to push his further inside her. His disgust slowly stemmed down towards his once solid penis. He with drew his hand and wiped the moisture on her starched white blouse. He clumsily got up from her prone form and stared down at her splayed legs. The sneer returned to his lips and as he reached for the door he couldn't help but articulate his disgust for the trembling and confused girl on his kitchen floor.
"Get up. You look like a whore".
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Submitted by haikumikoo (user info) at 2008-04-18 11:53:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
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