‘Have you read Fifty
Shades Of Grey?’
Lana looks into Rupert’s
mean, pale eyes. ‘No, but isn’t it about a sick man who abuses his lover?’
‘Perhaps it is not a
sickness, but a matter of taste.’
‘Is that what you want from
me?’
‘In a manner of speaking.
What I really like is taking a woman by force. A dangerous activity likely to
end me behind bars, so I am willing to settle for consensual rape. You will
meet me in parks and alleyways, or I will pick you up in my car from a street
corner and you will pretend to resist while I overpower you and rape you. There
will be a bit of pain and sometimes it will involve a little bleeding, but I
will never mark your face or leave any permanent scars. And when I am finished
I will leave you in the gutter to make your own way back. Would that be
acceptable to you?’
Shocked to her core, Lana
hears her own voice as if from far away say, ‘How many times would you expect
this…service from me?’
‘Let’s say five times?’
She feels as if she is a
stick-figured bird precariously perched on a thin wire. Rupert’s face is frozen
into a cold mask. A businessman to the end. Ten thousand must be the going
price. The champagne has made her feel quite light-headed. He is waiting for
something from her. He has already figured that her body is her last option.
Can she really agree to let someone rape her? Unable to speak she nods.
‘Perhaps I should let you
lick the brim to taste the poison,’ he murmurs, and moves closer to her.
Instinctively, she takes a step back on her tall shoes, and if not for the solid
wall against her back, would have fallen. With the trailing fronds of a palm
tree and his big body hiding her from the party his hand comes up to pinch her
right nipple. So hard she gasps in shock and pain. He takes that opportunity
to crash down on her open mouth, bumps his teeth against her lips, and pokes a
pointy, muscular tongue into her mouth. His tongue tastes coppery and bitter.
Copious amounts of saliva
pour into her mouth making her want to gag. The oysters she has not eaten but
watched him eat flash into her mind. His tongue feels slimy and dirty. She
wants to brush her teeth, rinse, spit, and rinse again with the extra-strong
mouthwash that her father used to have in the bathroom cabinet. She truly needs
to go somewhere and be sick, but pinned tightly by his strong ox-like body to
the wall she finds herself totally unable to move. She feels his hand force
itself between her thighs and slide up quickly. His rough, sausages-like
fingers are already grasping the rim of her knickers and pushing the material
aside. And there is not a single thing she can do about it. Tears gather at
the backs of her eyes and begin to roll down her face.
Suddenly he removes his mouth
and looks down at her. Her face is white with horror and she is gasping for
breath. He brings up a hand and touches her face. Her distress seems to please
him. Her suffering is his pleasure. She is playing the part perfectly. If she
had enjoyed it, it would have spoilt it for him.
‘For most part the symptoms
of excitement and fear are so similar most men cannot tell the difference. I
can,’ he whispers close to her ear, his thick fingers moving into the folds of
her flesh. ‘I am going to finger-fuck you amongst all these high and mighty
people and none of them will ever know.’
She is filled with loathing
for him. Her brain scrambles for escape. Desperately, she pushes the palms of
her hands against his chest. The nausea threatens at her throat. She must be
sick ‘I need the toilet,’ she gasps.
He hesitates for a second and
then he smiles. It is the smile of a man who is too pleased with himself.
‘It’s not very posh to say toilet. This lot call it the loo. Go on, then,’ he
says, and steps aside.
The first thing her shocked,
ashamed eyes meet is Blake. There is a blonde in a long red dress wrapped
around him, but he is staring at Lana with an expression that she cannot fathom.
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