Chapter Seven
It was pressed up against my face - I was gasping for air.
The boys’ repeated use of the word ‘cunt’ was drumming in my ears. I hated that word – it was vulgar, demeaning to women - it made me feel cheap. I opened my eyes and saw the guy’s long, skinny penis and his hand fumble again on my face. I could almost smell his hyped-up hormones - the whole scenario was suddenly grossly wrong –disconnected from the person I was inside. How did I get to this point? What happened? I felt sick at myself. I had only slept with Brad up until now. What had I been thinking?
Needle-dick pressed his thin, lanky erection on my mouth once more and shouted, “Suck my goddam dick, goddam it.”
I tried to maneuver myself up against the pillows but my head was spinning fast. The other guy was on top of me now and I could hardly breathe with his weight.”Guys,” I said, “I don’t want to do this. It was a bad idea. I’m drunk – I had too much tequila.” I pushed my arms out at the blonde one’s chest to get him off me but I couldn’t even see past the other guy who was prizing open my lips with his clammy, smelly fingers trying to stuff his needle-like erection into my mouth. I gagged with repulsion.
“I’m going to be sick,” I moaned, flailing my arms about and then tried to lever myself off the futon. “Please you two, I want to go home now…please somebody drive me home…I don’t want to do this.” My words were slurring but they understood. “Guys, I apologize for leading you on but I don’t want to do this anymore. I made a big mistake, I just wanna go back to my dorm.”
“Fuck you, bitch, suck my fucking dick.” He was pumping his hips into my face now, his hand grabbing my long hair like rope as his hot sweaty balls were squashing against my closed lips.
“Get off!” I screamed, shaking my head and protecting my face with my hands. “Get the fuck off me, don’t you get it, the party’s OVER!”
“Get the fuck off her dude,” the blonde one said pushing Needle-dick away from me.
Thank God, I thought, and I took a desperate lungful of air, so relieved his crotch was out of my face. But the blonde one then said, “I’ll fuck her first and then you can have her after me.”
“Fuck you, asshole, she was gonna suck me off!”
“She’s wasted, dude, can’t you see that? The slut’s off her fuckin’ face. It’s really taking effect now. Let me have her first.”
I started to scream and thrash about but the blonde one held my wrists together in a tight vice and the other one muffled my mouth with his stinky palm. The blond was powerful, his football-trained muscles rippling beneath his chest. As I tried to sit up in one great burst of effort my head started to spin and I saw stars trail about the room in waves. He crashed back on top of me and forced my legs open with his knees. I tried to free my hands to scratch him but I was still immovable. He started pumping into me, his elbow still holding down my arms. My legs were kicking in the air but my attempt to get him off me was pathetically weak. This guy was super-strong. The more I shouted and thrashed the more turned on he got.
“That’s right, fuck that horny little slut, dude – you know she wants it,” Needle-dick chanted, getting a vicarious thrill out of watching his friend pound me while he simultaneously played with himself.
The blond’s breath was hoarse with whiskey as he panted his way to a fast orgasm. Jesus, I realized - he wasn’t even wearing a condom. He pulled out immediately and rolled off me. I lurched up to stand but the other one grabbed my ankles in a rugby tackle and I went flying face-down on the futon, my head slapping hard against the pillows.
“Don’t think you can run off, you cock-teasing slut! I haven’t even started yet.” He rolled me over and smashed on top of me, lustily pinning me down – he too, was brawny, my inebriated body, now feeling almost numb, was no match for his big, clumping frame. I clasped my legs tightly together so he couldn’t enter me but he wrenched my thighs open and poked his weapon inside. I bashed his back with my fists but it was like pummeling a brick wall. Grunting, he thumped himself further inside my vulnerable spot forcing my legs further open. I screamed but nobody seemed to hear. Where was everyone? By this point, I blanked out. I held my head to the side and closed my lips tight. Of all the horrors, being kissed seemed the most disgusting of all. If I could at least keep my mouth untainted, I’d be winning on some level. I felt repulsed at myself, horrified that I got my sorry ass into this mess but all I could concentrate on was survival and somehow getting out of there. I eyed my clothing strewn about the floor and planned my getaway. The second he was done, I’d grab my stuff and charge out of the door. My shoes I’d leave, I’d need to be barefoot to move fast.
But then I heard another voice; a new guy barging into the room. My heart leaped into my stomach with both hope and dread. Would he save me? Or were things about to get much worse?
My lungs are heaving, my chest tight - I feel suffocated. I open my eyes and hear the reassuring sound of the surf and feel a cool morning breeze wafting through the window. The sheets are crumpled in a mess. I’ve been kicking, tossing and turning. I hear the shower next door – thank God, Alexandre is in the bathroom - he hasn’t been witness to yet another of my nightmares.
I get out of bed, holding my stomach. I feel nauseous and think I may throw up. I sit on one of the comfy chairs on our balcony and breathe in the fresh, salty air. I already feel better. All of my past is surging back – the buried memories which I thought had been blanked out of my life. No wonder men grossed me out for so many years. Holy shit!
Alexandre finds me on the balcony. He’s dripping wet with a towel tied around his middle of his toned abs. I look at him, taking in his physical beauty and wonder if he would have once been capable of doing what those boys did. Are all men pigs at heart? Is it just a question of circumstance? Perhaps those guys are all happily married now with sweet, adoring children who look up to them and think that they’re the best dads in the world. Wives who would never believe you if you enlightened them to what their husbands had once done in their college years.
Nobody would blame them. Guys are guys. Girls should know better, shouldn’t they? Women should be smarter, not put themselves in precarious situations, not ’ask for it’. Not behave like ‘sluts’.
Alexandre comes over to me and gives me a hug. “You look very pensive, Pearl. What’s on your mind?”
“Just looking at the beautiful view thinking how wonderful it would be to live by the ocean.”
“Funny, I was thinking exactly the same thing. I feel a real estate goblin knocking at my door. Shall we buy something here?”
“I still can’t get used to this,” I murmur.
“What?”
“Buying whatever your heart desires. It makes me feel guilty somehow.”
“Hey, I work hard for these privileges. You do, too.”
“I know. Just…well, we’re still so lucky.”
He holds my hands and pulls me off the chair. “Come to bed for a little while. You look so sexy, Pearl – I love you in the morning all ruffled up. It makes me want to get as close to you as is physically possible.”
His body is so beautiful, my heart yearns for him, but the truth is that sex is the last thing on my mind, even with the man I love more than anything in the world. I melt into his strong arms and nuzzle my face against his warm chest and lick off a few droplets of shower water. He smells of soap and his own natural Alexandre magic – he is my elixir, the potion I need to keep me healthy and sane. I kiss him all over with sweet, girlish kisses. I want to be loving, not sexy, but it makes him groan and I can feel his erection press up against me.
I peel away the towel around his waist and see his beautiful anatomy, a penis that is substantial but wonderful because it has never tried to hurt me or force me. Even that time that he was angry with me, after I hadn’t been honest with him about who I was and he came barging into my apartment…even then when he took me in the kitchen and ravaged me right there and then…he knew I was desperate for him and if I ha
d told him to stop he would have.
I bend down and kiss him below his waist and breathe him in - his kindness, his patience, his genuine love. And then I let out a sigh of relief; gratitude that he is the way he is. I look up at him like a puppy.
He strokes my hair. “Pearl, darling, what’s with the tears?”
“Tears of love,” I reply.
He takes me over to the bed. I feel a tingle in my groin and realize that I’m moist between the legs. He does that to me because I trust him with every fiber of my being. His finger glides between my slick folds and he slips it gently inside me, letting just a hint of pressure tantalize my clit. “You’re so sexy, so wet. I need you baby, I need to be inside you. How I’m going to get through this week without making love to you, I don’t know.” His mouth is on mine, pressed hard over my lips and I respond with desire, meeting his tongue with little licks. He groans again and pushes me on the bed, his strong body covering me whole. I feel all-feminine underneath his strapping frame.
I open my legs and cling to his firm torso, my arms gripping around his muscular back and I claw my nails into him without meaning to. “Please fuck me,” I beg, confused as to the double emotions I feel inside. I want to prove to myself that everything’s okay. That no past ghosts can come between me and the man I love. “I need you and only you,” I murmur.
He slips inside me, his mouth again on mine and he slowly pushes his way further between my cleft, his erection taut and full, stretching me open, his pubic bone pressing deliciously on my clit. He’s staring into my eyes. He takes my clawed hands one by one away from his back and holds my wrists together above my head with just one hand. He is claiming me, dominating me - I can’t escape from this position but it’s okay because it’s him. I feel the power of his extensive thick cock cramming me full, pumping into me. I push my hips higher to meet him and we thrust together in a natural rhythm, each time we meet all my nerves are tingling with need.
“Don’t stop, I think I’m going to come – keep doing what you’re doing,” I moan.
“I’ll never stop. Never.”
I can feel it building, feel that glorious sensation of blood rushing up inside the core of me when he says, “I love being inside you, baby…fucking you…and you know what else?”
“Tell me,” I plead. “Tell me what you love.” I’m gyrating my hips now - I need to be as close as is humanly possible.
“I love kissing you, running my tongue along your sexy lips when I’m deep inside you.” His mouth is on mine as he says this.
I’m thrusting hard, pressing my clit against him…this feels incredible. “Tell me what I can do to please you,” I say with urgency. “Tell me what you love.”
“When you suck my cock tightly with your pretty lips, when my cock is deep inside your hot mouth.”
Suddenly, a vision of the needle-dick guy flashes through my mind. I catch my breath but not in a good way. I was on the brink of orgasm but not any more…I close my eyes to make the image go away and then open them again to drink in Alexandre, to reassure myself that he is different, that he has nothing to do with these repulsive snap-shots. I get back to my rhythm – I need this release - but more images come crashing through me…being forced, pushed, pulled, not being able to escape. Needle-dick again, suffocating my mouth. I feel panicked and smothered. Alexandre is pressing his body against me passionately and all I can think of are dirty, smelly cocks and rape and tequila and my body as weak and helpless as a rag doll….
“Alexandre, I can’t…sorry, I feel sick…I think I’m going to barf….please…”
He freezes his position and releases my wrists but it’s too late…I can feel his cock swelling and hot rush spurt deep inside me. He is instantly contrite and says, “I’m sorry, baby, I couldn’t help myself; you’re so fucking sexy the way you move. What’s wrong, chérie?” Slowly, he pulls out. He rolls off me to give me the space I crave.
I lie there hyperventilating.
“Are you okay, baby?” He looks shocked with concern, puts his hand in mine and kisses my fingertips softly. He pulls me off the bed and ushers me to the bathroom. I stand there with my face in my hands, my head bent down. I turn on the shower faucet. I need to get clean. I need to wash this morning’s dream away. I feel the sticky mess of Alexandre’s cum trickling down my inner thighs and even though it emanates from pure love and goodness, from a man who would lay his life down for me, I feel sickened.
Penises. Cocks. Dicks. Blowjobs. Semen.
I am disgusted.
***
I’m hoping this feeling will fade but as the day draws on it gets worse – the straw that breaks the camel’s back is a video clip Natalie sends me of her documentary about child trafficking for the insatiable sex industry. Men are pigs whichever way you look at it. Aided, sadly, by women sometimes, even by mothers selling their own daughters - but still, who is fucking these young girls (and sometimes boys) - women? No, men are the devils with their penises ruling their brains. Not women but men.
Poor Alexandre is the innocent victim of my sudden repulsion towards all things male, although when I look into his beautiful eyes I don’t feel anything but love and compassion for him. My heart aches – he is my everything. None of this is his fault.
But the idea of being penetrated, right now, revolts me. Please God, let this feeling go away. I love sex with him so much….
Luckily, he’s flying out late tonight so I won’t have to explain myself. On two occasions this afternoon, my whole story nearly escaped my lips but something held me back. Why subject him to my baggage? Give it a few days – let the memory ride itself out and I’ll be back to normal. At least the dreams are unleashing it all, revealing the truth of what really happened that night – things my conscious mind had blocked out.
It wasn’t my fault as I had always led myself to believe. Or was it? If I tell Alexandre I’d have to explain to him how I got myself into that predicament in the first place. A threesome with two footballers? His vision of me as the perfect summa cum laude student with the unblemished past would be shattered. No - let his perception of me remain untainted, at least until I feel confident enough to reveal everything. Remembering all this is bad enough, but if he finds it hard to accept? If he has it lurking in the back of his mind every time we have sex, then what?
I need time. I need a few days to think this all through.
We spend the day walking along the beach and then pass by Venice to see the wild and wonderful attractions. There’s a hippie guitar player zipping along on roller-skates and a bottle-blond Tarzan character working out in an outdoor gym with massive weights, right by the Boardwalk for everyone to see. There are volleyball and paddle tennis courts and funky shops, cafés and vendor booths lined along this long stretch on Ocean Front Walk. We meander, people-watching, taking in the sights of colorful street performers and beautiful young things strutting their stuff in skimpy outfits – Venice Beach is an exhibitionist haven.
The distractions are perfect; enough for Alexandre to not realize that anything is particularly wrong. When he asked me earlier what happened in bed this morning and I told him that it must have been the smoothie I drank the day before - a mild case of food poisoning - he believed me.
And like food poisoning I will kick this out of my system. I will. It is in the past, something that happened so long ago it has no business screwing up my life now. I won’t let it dominate my thoughts; I won’t let it make me bitter and angry. I was a different person then, anyway – I made a foolish decision, and I paid a price for it. Does that mean it has to affect my life now? That I have to keep paying that price? Affect the person I am today?
As Alexandre and I continue our walk - arm in arm, I notice people looking at my fiancé, eyeballing him up and down with come-on stares and I feel proud. Yes, he’s handsome, girls and boys, and you know what? He’s mine.
Perhaps the break of a few days will be good for us. I can sort my scrabbled head out. I’ll call Daisy and talk it through wi
th her – maybe even see a therapist here.
I crook my arm tighter with his. “I’ll miss you.”
He winks at me. “It’s only five more days. You’ll be so busy you won’t even notice.”
“And you? What will you be doing?”
“Making money for us to get a pad here.”
“A pad?”
“Something wonderful. Further up the coast in Malibu. A house overlooking the water where I can surf and you can walk along the beach with Rex and swim if you’re brave enough to brace the cold – would you like that?”
“No, it would make me miserable. Too much of a punishment”
He laughs and pulls me closer. “You don’t have to go to work, you know.”
“What d’you mean?” I ask, confused.
“You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I know you’re clever at your job but if you feel like packing it all in and do nothing but read novels and lie about in the sun, I wouldn’t think any less of you.”
I grin. “I don’t know how long I’d last doing that. Sounds tempting, though. But I’ve always worked. Even at school I had a Saturday job – I don’t know if lazing about is my style.”
“Well, just letting you know that you have a get-out clause. Just because we started HookedUp Enterprises doesn’t mean you have to be chained to it for forever.”
“What about you? You wouldn’t ever have to work another day in your life if you didn’t want to, either, but you keep going with all these endless meetings all over the place.”
“Just say the word, baby, and we can go and live in a tree-house in Thailand. Or join your father in Kauai.”
“You mean that?”
“I think so. Although, the truth is, I’ve always worked, too. I had jobs from the age of nine.”
“But that’s illegal in France, isn’t it? Children working?”
“Nothing about my life was legal when Sophie was playing mother to me after we left home – after we left that monster,” he spits out between his teeth, his mouth bitterly tight.
“Your mother must feel so guilty about not having come with you when she had the chance.”
Shadows of Pearl (The Pearl Trilogy, Part 2) Page 9
