Roger Grayson: The Two-Way Mirror

"Aaaaaggggghhhhhh!" she had half-grunted, half-screamed, kicking her legs out wildly in shocked disbelief at the total agony his fiendish assault sent shrieking from the core of her body to her brain. He had ripped her wide open, she knew, and the blood was streaming from her. She had felt the thin membrane of her hymen give way before the vicious onslaught and she was certain he had torn the tight opening of her virginal hole.

Again she squealed, kicking out and was immediately sorry, for it only worsened her position as his moist flesh of her vaginal walls in rippling waves before it, digging deeper and deeper into the soft warm confines of her secret and treasured cuntal channel.

She wept profusely from the beginning, both in shame and physical anguish as he had continued to batter into her, until finally she felt his balls slap solidly against her buttocks and his pelvis ground against hers… then, he stopped, breathing in heavy rasps, his thick hard rod sunk all the way to its lengthy depths inside her quaking belly, the warm wet walls of her vagina wrapped so tightly around it that she could feel every ridge and wrinkle of the pain-giving instrument of lust.

Maybe it was then, as she lay impaled in excruciating pain, like some ravaged serf out of the dark ages with the raping cudgel of the brutal invader spearing into her chaste, defenseless vagina, or maybe it had been that moment when he had forced himself between her legs and ripped away her panties… or was it the first seconds of racking torment when he had burst into her? Whichever, the metamorphosis of passion to Anaphrodisia had taken place. Desire, if and when it came over her ever after was to be accompanied by fear and dread.

God, was she really to blame? Even then, she had begged him to stop. He hadn't even given her the opportunity to adjust to his sudden presence buried deep in her womb. He had just begun to fuck, like a madman, his mouth slack, his eyes staring unseeingly as he rammed into her and she groaned in unceasing torment beneath him, mumbling incoherently, her tears bathing her cheeks. Then, his hands were groping at her ripe, full breasts, clutching insanely, flesh protruding painfully in white bloodless ridges between his straining fingers. He had chewed at her nipples until the blood trickled from them, and even then she had tried, tried, tried to gentle his brutal attack. The damage had been done; he had taken her… let her give herself to it and to him in love… She could forgive him… she could!

But it was as if she had read his sudden lust-demented mind. One thought blinded him… to spew his hot, scalding load of pent-up sperm deep inside her… fulfill and release himself… with no longer any thought of her. God, she had so wanted to know the ecstasy of love in its entirety… but he was fucking her like a slut, not making love to her!

She whined up at him once more, pleading, begging, but her whimpers were in vain. Suddenly, he had slid his hands beneath her thighs and was lifting them. She didn't resist… even helped as he pushed them up and back, locking his arms behind them and forcing her down into the seat beneath his rampaging thrusts that was blunting the cruel, spongy head of his cock against her virginal cervix. She hit her lower lip arid held to his ribs as he pummeled unmercifully into her. The horrible agony had passed and there was a time of indecision gripping at her. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him… how, how close she was to understanding… but then, he sucked in an enormous breath and his cock slammed into her naked, upturned buttocks with a wild and new fervor. He was going to cum in her belly! She could feel it in the tensing and jerking of his hard muscular body heavy upon her. His breath was hot and coming in gasping rushes against her face. She remembered that further panic had gripped her because he was using no contraceptive. Supposing she should get pregnant? How horrible… a child born out of such savagery…

She had never really stopped crying, but whether it was more from the physical or mental pain, she was not sure. He began to fuck into her with fierce inhumaneness, his huge prick scoring the tender, sensitive walls of her tight, unwanting vagina mercilessly. He held her knees hack to her shoulders in an abasing, cramped position that exposed the upturned plain of her helpless, defenseless crotch completely to his vicious Islet. With every stroke, he drew almost completely out of her then plunged forward with demoniacal force. She had never felt so ashamed or humiliated in her entire life. It was the end for them… there never could be anything between them again… he hated her… she knew it!

Then, she felt his thundering prick growing bigger and bigger as it dug deeper and deeper into her warm, wet passage, until suddenly, he threw back his head, a guttural, racking sound coming from deep in his chest as she felt his rock-hard cock jerk wildly inside her and his white hot sperm spewing from its tip in great spurts.

"Oh God, no, no, not" she wailed in helpless submission as she felt the thick, hot fluid splashing wetly in a swirling pool in her vagina, filling her womb and belly to the almost overflowing point…

And it was done. Like that… she remembered it all too vividly… how he had slunk off of her, shamed in the aftermath of his vented lust, tears actually streaming down his cheeks… begging her to forgive him… vowing to make it up to her. What a pathetic sight he had presented… and God, how she loved him. They had wept together, holding tight to one another, long into the wee hours of morning, pledging and re-pledging their love… but it was never to be the same for her again.

They had been married that weekend… the first day, and night, of six short months of sexual fiascos. She had only to see him coming at her with an erection to set the cold chills of revulsion creeping along her spine. God knows, she tried… did everything to hide it from him… even pretended at orgasm like any good whore, for that was how she felt about herself. She was his private, and personal whore, well paid for his use of her body…

Oh God, do I have to keep this up all day?

Abruptly, Karen got to her feet, went to the kitchenette and made herself a second cup of coffee, bracing it with bourbon once more, but lightly this time. She was a drinker, especially at seven o'clock in the morning. It was just that she had needed something to bolster her after the hectic night… and today being his birthday. Again, she found herself wondering where he was, if he was well… and happy.

Perhaps he had even married again. She had no way of knowing. Her limited circle of friends were all comparatively new acquaintances she had made since their divorce, none of whom had ever known Jeff. She had learned of his discharge from an old college-mate, Chick Spellman, accidentally bumping into him one day while shopping, and they'd had lunch together. He had come across Jeff in a bar in San Francisco two days following Jeff's discharge and they had gotten blazingly drunk for a solid week. But he hadn't been able to tell her much more, or perhaps it was just that he hadn't wanted to. Well, it didn't make much difference anyway, did it? It was all over and done with now. A part of the divorcee's bitter past.

Oh, she wasn't so bad off, she supposed, if she could only think about it intelligently. She had friends, both male and female, and she certainly got around enough. Of course, there was always the divorce stigma, with every man assured in his mind that she was a certain lay. The fact of the matter was that she had slept with no man since Jeff… none whatever, but sometimes, the desire to be made love to, the sheer, raw, sexual craving of her lush young body nearly drove her mad. Yet, she knew that the mere sight of a man standing naked before her, or lying against her, his bard fleshy rod touching her soft body would immediately instigate the old rigor mortis… she would freeze like an icicle. God, what an affliction.