Sometimes I’m startled by the things that lurk in the dark recesses of my brain. Last night I rolled over in the middle of the night and wrote this…
Maybe because she was so tiny he didn’t expect her to be the type to fight back. He thought that once he had her in his apartment with the door closed and dead bolted and made impassable by their bodies pressed against it, that she would wilt in that lovely way girls like her always did. Tough girls with tattoos and piercings always wilt like shy church mice when you apply a little force. He expected her to act just the same but to his astonishment she fought like a cornered alley cat; sinking her teeth into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.
He pulled away with a surprised hiss. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he growled.
“Try it again and you’ll get worse than a nibble on your lip,” she snarled into his face. He stared into her eyes for a moment. She was stunning. Coppery brown skin, full, naturally rosy lips, wide brown eyes. She was nearly exactly his type. That had been a surprise. The anger coursing hotly through her veins made her damn near irresistible; her nostrils flared, her top lip curled back from her teeth ready to deliver another viscous bite. Griffin chuckled darkly and then snaked his hand around her neck.
“Darlin’, when I’m done with you, you’re gonna be weak as a kitten.”
“That’s what you think!” she spat angrily.
He tightened his grip on her neck. “Well, you’re just full of sass aren’t you?” he tapped his chin with his index finger in mock contemplation. “We’re just gonna have to do see what we can do about that.” He grabbed a handful of her hair. He was momentarily distracted by the cottony softness. He didn’t know what he was expecting when he grabbed a fistful of her reddish brown mane, but he didn’t expect it to be so soft. He shook off the momentary distraction and dragged her down the hallway and into the living room. She really was putting up a fight. She had her heels dug in, rumpling up the carpet runner in the hallway. Her nails were digging semi-circles into his forearm. She was doing everything but screaming. Why wasn’t she screaming? He wondered. Then he decided that he definitely wanted to hear her scream. He definitely wanted to hear her scream before the night was done. In the living room he rummaged through end table drawers looking for something to tie her up with. She struggled in his grip, somehow managing to twist his wrist in the process. He clenched his teeth and drew her up by her hair until she was balancing on the balls of her feet. “You had best settle,” he threatened. And then he saw it. The fight was draining out of her. The fight was draining out of her eyes and being replaced with fear. A tear was trembling in the corner of her eye. Griffin figures that the only thing keeping it from falling is shear will. “That’s better.” He cooed as he cupped her cheek with the hand that wasn’t fisted in her hair. The tear spilled then; her will weakened by his momentary tenderness. He returned his attention to searching the drawer and after a few moments of fumbling he seemed to find what he was searching for.
“Now I don’t normally use this,” he said pointedly as he produced a roll of metal gray duct tape for Zulema to see. “Normally I like to take the time to tie you up real pretty like. I think you would look gorgeous all trussed up. But sense you decided to get all feisty on me I have to resort to more expedient measures.”
Normally? Zulema thinks frantically. What does he mean normally? What have I gotten myself into? Zulema’s heart began to pound in earnest. A scream was pounding it’s way right up her throat. What the fuck was this guy going to do to her? Normally? Normally?! He pulled the duct tape off the roll in short, quick tugs and began wrapping it around her wrists. The sound echoed in the large loft and made Zulema flinch involuntarily. He tore of a piece and as she crumbled and began to beg.
“Please,” she whimpered. “I won’t bite you again–”
He laughed outright. “Now you give me tears!”
Okay so it’s obvious this is going to be a rape sequence and as I’m writing this I’m thinking to myself what the fuck is happening right here? First of all, in the wee hours of the morning I learning things about the antagonist in my novel that I didn’t know before, that was enough of a surprise. Then to find out that he’s some rapist??? I have no idea where this is coming from. So now I’m concerned…I’ve never written anything like this. I’m not sure if I want to write anything like this. Do I want to write something like this? I know there are people out there who have rape fantasies. I don’t understand it personally but to each his own. How do all of you feel about this sort of thing? Would you read an erotic novel with a rapist as a major character?