| Rape, like Love is a Four Letter Word; 4CW | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 24 2017, 11:15 PM (4 Views) | |
| JasonCashe | Dec 24 2017, 11:15 PM Post #1 |
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So far, he wouldn’t put the weekend on his list of proudest moments, if this large section of time can be considered a “moment”. Then again, looking into the last part of 2016, not much of it had been great, except for one piece. He isn’t equipped to deal with heartache, in case it’s a mystery at this point. Hatred has bloomed from being hurt, sad, broken - as some have gone to say about him. A fallen name no longer holding much value and maybe they were right. ”Fuck your Mother! GOT YOU!” Playstation 4 controller in hand, Cashe hadn’t done too much sleeping. Everywhere around him is a mess; bottles of Jack Daniels and Fireball among other random purchases he has made at the local liquor store, most of them empty of the “courage” usually found inside. Plastic spoons and cans of Spam sit stacked in a little pyramid. His farts been WOOOOO but something about the smell warmed his heart and the chair he sat in! Putting aside the weed as the New Year come into focus he was still searching for replacements for his two biggest addictions. Pausing as his team lines up for a kick off he grabs a hand mirror sitting on the arm of the chair next to him. On it was a white powder, chopped up and cut into thick lines. A small straw and most could place what the powder was. He snorts up a line and pops up out of his chair growling like a pitbull. ”Fuuuuuck! RRRRAAAAAH!” Suddenly he realized he couldn’t see straight. Too much spam he was certain but the alcohol and cocaine probably didn’t help. Wobbling he keeps his balance by holding his arms out stretched to his sides. Knox was else where because Cashe wanted some time alone in the Building that “dPEEg” would use as a Headquarters or Club House. A knock at the doors caused him to freeze in place. He listened hard waiting to hear it again, unsure if it was actually someone knocking or just a noise in his diluted train of thought. Which really, is that new for Cashe? ”Shhhh…” He sounds off as if trying to quiet someone else. Maybe it was “Jason” in his head he was trying to shush. Hearing the knock a second time and he was sure it wasn’t in his head as he takes a step towards the door slow to not knock off his ability to stand. The door is answered and he’s there. Just like that. All she had to do was knock and maybe it has always been that simple, but she’s not usually the one to come to someone. She doesn’t run after anyone. Not that she’s running after him. She’s here to return the ring and get away, burn the bridge so she never crosses it again. However, when she smells the alcohol from where she’s standing, she forgets about that bit. There’s a deep settling anger mixed with worry that grows, and she glares at him with almost an ounce of hesitation to speak. It sticks. She doesn’t say anything. He looks like shit and she decides to almost say that, but she probably doesn’t look any better. With the smell of alcohol being all too familiar and the memory of her first few weeks without him, she keeps her thoughts to herself. Regretfully, she’s too sober for this encounter. It doesn’t matter. It’s too late. Instead, she folds her arms across her chest, continuing to glare, somehow expecting an explanation for something as if it’s something she deserves. ”Aghhh!” Flinching, jumping back Cashe slams the door shut. His breathing picks up, he grabs his chest as it speeds up. He was having a panic attack or just feeling the drugs and alcohol mix together better. ”Maybe it wasn’t her?” ”Pssh prolly cause like how she know where I’m at? Plus them Tiddays seemed too big for Queef…” Ripping the door open again, Cashe almost lost his balance as he stood staring at an empty space. Scoffing he peeks out the doorway and looks both ways. She was gone so maybe she WAS just in his imagination. ”See? It was probably a Jehovah’s Witness or something.” Almost hoping he was wrong, hoping it could have been her. He fought back that urge knowing he needed to put it all in the past. Shutting the door he hears a whistle blow. A sound he had heard plenty over the weekend. His game of Madden! Spinning around he crashes into a wall but pushes off staring over to the television. His game was unpaused. Scooting across the floor, his feet dragged in a sluggish movement. Penalized on a Defensive play when he had paused it on a Kick Off. Too drunk, too drugged to remember that his attention got placed on his controller. ”Where is it?” Burping he looks around, kicking bottles and trash that had accumulated. The blue light on the controller caught his attention out of his peripheral vision. ”How’d you get over there?!” Moving slow but towards the side room where he was sleeping when he did. On the bed sat the PS4 controller. Reaching down to grab it he hears the slightest footstep approaching from his side. ”Uggh!” Glass shattering, falling and making that noise it makes as each piece hits the ground around him. Cashe falls forward crashing down onto the floor. Shaking her head as you see who had assaulted him, Persephone Marquis held the neck of the bottle. Probably picked up off the ground she had whacked him good. He was out. ”We need to talk...” ======================================== Here’s the thing. If you were paying attention originally, then you know her intention was to return the ring and leave. Maybe say something dramatic before walking off, the kind of thing that they say in the movies. The kind of thing people quote, the kind of thing she would drink too because sometimes her own words hurt her too. Change of plans after she saw him, though. The intoxication and obvious drug use. Vulnerability. Then, a bottle against his head; smashed into a million pieces as he landed with a loud thud. She drops the neck of it, letting it join the shattered glass that lies around the man she loves. Or loved? No, loves. She leans down, the game still going behind her and maybe she should pause it again, or take over. Something. Her mind is everywhere when she rolls him into his back, the glass digging into the exposed flesh of his arms. She moves Cashe’s head slightly, feeling the back where she had struck him. She pulls away her hand away from his growing locks to find the fingers that gingerly touched his skull colored with blood. She should try to wake him up, get him some help; press against his wound with a cloth and shake him until he’s conscious once more. But she made up her mind as soon as she saw him, that she wasn’t going to lose him. Or that, if it were inevitable, she’s going to feel him against her once last time. She ties his hands together, at the wrist, above his head and connected to a metal leg of the bed with a found cord. Perhaps too tightly, as if she were drawing blood from him. Which, in a way, isn’t entirely false They needed to talk, she said they should. But she undresses him instead. And whatever lines shouldn’t be cross, were crossed when she took his cock into her hands, into her mouth until it hardens just enough while the glass dig at her knees and breaks shin. At what point is she supposed to realize that this is disturbing, that she shouldn’t be so turned on by his unconscious state as she removes her panties, slipping them from under her dress and kicking off her shoes? She shouldn’t be this fucking wet by the sight of him, but she hasn’t seen him like this in so long. No one has touched her in so long. And she had rarely seen him sleep, so the relaxed breaths and rise and fall of his chest were so inviting. Blood is already gathering upon the floor from the bottom of her feet and knees. Droplets decoration the scene and her skin as she gets on her knees once more to mount him. Persephone lifts the bottom of her short dress slightly, watching as she slides down and takes him all in and. Yeah, this is rape. No going back now. She goes with it, follows her instinct. Rides him until she’s a mess of moans and flustered hot skin. She unzips her dress at some point, letting it all bunch at her hips as she continues bouncing on the dick of an unconscious man. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she gasps out, his name leaving her lips in a breath right after. He stirs then, his eyes fluttering open as they tried to gain focus, his hands attempting to move, but unable to. When his eyes widen, and meet hers in realization, she cums. Squealing, she grinds roughly and quickly; he’s rubbing against the right spots and edging her on. Cashe groans despite the situation, closing his eyes at the overload of sensations coming into his still groggy and blurring brain. Persephone relaxes into a slow grind and then rather suddenly, Cashe violently yanks at his binds, yelling at her. “HELP! Rape! GET OFF OF ME YOU CRAZY BITCH!” And nearly in the same breath he relaxes as she begins a steady rise and fall of slow rhythm, sighing out almost contently, “Don’t stop.” And there’s something great about hearing that; approval. There has been a need for it. Late nights when she’s been alone, missing his smile. Bothering him in any way she can for an ounce of attention. His hands relax in their binds and his breathing becomes calm, in a growing pant. She wants to say she missed this, missed him. Instead, there’s a slow buildup to tears that end in a burst. Cashe opens his eyes when she stops moving, her body wracking with audible sobs. “I’m so sorry!” She cries out, wiping at her face to stop the stream of tears that still gets to his body in droplets. Keep in mind, she’s trying very hard to stop. She wants to bury it down. Of course, that’s not how an outpour of emotion works and she leans down instead. He’s still inside of her when she wraps her arms around him, burying her face into his neck and shoulders, wiping her tears on him and sniffling disgustingly. “I didn’t mean anything I said,” and there’s a hitch of breath between every word, like a child. Cashe’s hands move within the binds and Persephone doesn’t pay any attention, her mouth rambling away in tragedy. “I never tried to use you or anything because I love you and we’re supposed to be together forever. You’re not supposed to leave me. You’re not allowed to leave me. You’re the only person I’ve ever been myself with and you’re always supposed to be around.” She continues to cry into his shoulder, her sobs becoming hideous. “Why? Why should I believe you? I..” His voice breaks some. Some because she fucked his brains out and some because he hated how she made him feel. ’“I loved you. I did things with you, for you that I hadn't done for anyone else in my life.” His words were a great distraction. Her sniffling, almost snorting like cries no doubt made her ugly as the majority are when they ball out in tear. His hands loosening in his ties, moments from freedom. “ahhmanumnaahnum…” Her words muffled as her mouth presses against his neck. He laughs some using it as a means to move more without her noticing. “Come again? I didn’t quite catch that last part.” She places her head on his chest; deep ragged breaths as she tries to calm herself in hitches. She rubs the tears from her face and sniffs just once. Nearly whispering, she asks, “so, you don’t love me anymore?” And why ask that question? She would rather not know the answer. Either he doesn’t love her and she has to move along heartbroken, or he does and it’s just a reminder of her mistakes and mostly cold demeanor, a reminder of how she hurt him. “Painfully, I do.. As much as I’ve tried to feel otherwise.” His voice had some pain to it. Hurt in his throat. For a second he forgot that he was getting free and wanted still to get his paws on her. Persephone sits up, sitting on him. She wipes away at her face one more time, waving her hands at her eyes in little bats. She’s looking away as she says, “I’m not usually this kind of person. I have it more together than this, I’m being honest. I swear I wasn’t crazy like this until I met you.” And that felt a little true in her head. She fucked him once and then she was breaking into a home in Canada. “Well..” trying to find the right words. “I never had been in love with someone before I met you. Guess life screws us all huh?” sarcastic but something that was very much true. Looking at her even with her nose all slobbery, eyes draining with tears and slightly swollen from her outburst. To him, she was it. A growing part of him had come to hate her for that since Wasteland. Finally looking down at him, she tilts her head slightly as she studies his face with her expression still twisted in sadness. She sighs and wipes away at her eyes one last time. “I don’t feel like life screwed me over completely.” “Of course not. You set out an accomplished the one thing you wanted even before we officially met. Beat me, use me, defeat me… job well done. Look I’m tapping again. Get off me and let me go.” Yanking at his binds they start to give more. Enough so Queef sees it and he sees that she noticed it. So, she punches him in the face. A strong left right hook that makes him groan out in pain. She hit him mostly because he’s trying to break free, but also because of the accusation, him asking her to get off. “No!” She yells. She tried to say it firmly, but it comes out in a panic. “When I first heard your name, yeah, it bothered me and I did want to face you. When I met you, though, first thing I thought of was to get back at Psyche for being a major cunt,” and Cashe makes a disapproving noise at the name of Psyche as Persephone begins to grind against him again. “When I saw you, a match didn’t cross my mind. I couldn’t find one bone in my body that hated you, even when I stole all of your shit. If I used you, it was for company. You made me feel important, like my thoughts matter. You make me feel good.” And she moans then, getting back into her rhythm, bouncing slightly as she begins to lose her breath. “When the match came up, did I see it as an opportunity for anything? I was still mad, but I didn’t want to lose you. But pour my heart out, say that I didn’t want the match, that nothing good would come from it? I didn’t want to look weak, I couldn’t look weak.” Where was she going with this? She’s losing her train of thought, getting back into the sensation of him. Then, she remembers. She stops moving, calming her breath as she reaches over. “I am weak, though. I love you, so fucking much. How stupid will it sound if I say I can’t go back to living without you? It sounds crazy, but, like I said, you’ve made me crazy,” she messes with his binds, untangles them. “If you want me to leave, if you want to get me off, then go ahead.” Then Cashe’s hands are free. The smile forming on his face as the light hits her face just right. She almost has a yellow tint to her, she was beautiful. His built up frustrations and hurt he had flipped on like a switch. Snatching her around the neck, her eyes bulge as she gasps for air. “I made YOU crazy? You?!” Bucking as he growls the words full of aggression. He flips her off him, onto her side. Finally having control of this, he was done being the rape victim. Bucket naked, he presses down over her; holding tightly around her throat as her face turns shades of red. “I TRUSTED YOU!” Grunting, he was getting a shade of red himself. His eyes almost glossy even as he stared down at her. “You have done nothing but take from me since we met. Now when I’ve hit rock bottom you want to RAPE me too? Fine… Happy National Booty Day!” Lifting her he flips her onto her stomach. She was still in tears and taking in air from being choked. She would surely have marks the next day. “I’m bout to rearrange your mud canyon.. Heads up it might hurt. Just breath..” His funny way of preparing her as she did him that one time better left not mentioned. Snorting up a thick slimy mouthful of saliva he spits down into the crack of her ass. Another mouthful of spit goes into his hands as he reaches down to grab his “Good Damn”. “Say ahhhhh,” he jokingly says as he leans into it. Marquis gasping as she grips onto the side of the bed with one hand and reaches back, fingers digging into the outside of his leg. Thing about getting fucked in the ass is that it hurts when some asshole only uses spit. There needs to be conversation, lube and a safeword. Still, she grinds her teeth and groans out, pushing against him in time with his thrusts to get used to the feeling. Cashe takes her by the hips during his rough ministrations, lifting for a better angle and digging his fingers into her hips hard enough to bruise later. She’s whimpering with each slap of skin, a noise coming out of her as she steadies her knees, back arching with her shoulders down. She releases her grip from the side of the bed, taking her hand to reach down and rub at her clit as she begins to pant. And how much description is needed? Cashe fucks her in the ass, and finishes a few moments later. Just long enough for her to get a nut and to let this deep sinking feeling of something come over her as he pulls out and goes to sit on his bed. She steadies herself with her hands, catching her breath before standing up. The glass on the floor, caused by her assault with a bottle of alcohol, had scratched against her body, some pieces falling from her and others sticking deeper into skin, drawing small droplets of blood. She pulls one out with a hiss and Cashe doesn’t look at her or say anything. “I’m sorry,” she says, again. “Or something like that, I don’t know.” These overwhelming urges to cry are ridiculous, so she fixes the dress bunched at her hips instead, pulling it into place once more and zipping it. She then grabs her shoes and she would ask if she could use the shower, do you have something to eat, I think we should watch something on Netflix, but maybe she lost the luxury somewhere in between raping him and farting during anal. “I’ll go now,” And she starts to walk away, but then something comes to mind. She looks down at her fingers and sighs lightly, removing the ring that was there. She limps slightly over to him, shoes still not on as she walks over the glass and the bit of blood left there from his head and their cuts throughout the very innocent event. She stops in front of him and he finally looks up at her, meeting her eyes. She extends her hand, offering the ring. “Here.” “I don't want that. I bought it for you.” His voice drags some. He hated the thought of what this had become between them. There was no experience in his past that prepared him for this. He had that feeling of lost consuming him and just the smell of her being near was tearing away at him. “Keep it.” There was a long pause. A silence that fell over the room. Marquis sighs and turns to leave as she knew he wanted. Yet as she turns to walk out, he reaches over and grabs her hand. Standing up from the bed. He was naked and hadn’t even thought where his clothes had gone. Instead he pulled the ring from her hand, took a painful gulp to swallow what pride he had left and lowers to a knee. “Umm so…” still with his head looking at the floor he wasn’t sure why he was doing this but it felt right. Looking up at her and seeing her eyes wet with tears he lost the doubt. “Still wanna marry me?” She drops her shoes from one hand, bringing both up to cover her mouth from another sobbing fit. She’s already cried about ten times today, so she tells herself it’s best to bury this one down. Apparently, though, there’s a lack of communication with her mind and body as tears stream down anyway. She nods, probably too quickly. Maybe too desperately, pathetically. Any other terrible word to describe her as she extends her left hand once again, but to receive the ring she had been ready to give up after weeks of hanging on. After placing the ring back where it belonged. Cashe pops up from his knee, lifting her up by her armpits like a toddler. She wraps her arms and legs around him like a koala, beginning to ramble. “You’re not allowed to leave again,” she starts. “And is there a broom around here? Because there’s glass everywhere and you know my feet are bloody as fuck and they hurt, so you gotta take the glass out because I can’t. And we should take a shower. You stink, for sure. And all of these drugs? I’m confiscating them. They’re mine now. And I’m hungry. So, you should order some pizza or something. Are you listening?” Already nagging again, he flings her onto the bed and leaves the room. “Hey!” She yells after him. “You better be bringing me something to drink, I’m thirsty as fuck! Did you hear me?” |
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9:16 AM Jul 11