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Chapter 5
Constance AKA Julie
It felt like it was taking forever to pull down his zipper. I was prolonging the inevitable. He wasn’t the man I had been led to believe. It stood to reason that Bethany was in a similar predicament. I could only hope that she had found one good one in the bunch, but I wasn’t holding my breath.
“How can you be like this? Did you not get enough love from your mother? Did you come from a broken home? You had to learn this somewhere and it usually revolves around a past you don’t want to talk about,” I attempted to speak to him with his eyes glazing over.
“My mother was a whore. Women tease mercilessly and then they laugh when they have you wrapped around their little finger. My father taught me to take what I want in life. He showed me how women are users," he spoke, candidly.
Damian was unburdening himself giving me a window of opportunity. His words had no love lost for his mother. Getting him to open up was the only way to keep him talking long enough to find a way out.
“Your father sounds like a wise man but he taught you to be a predator. There’s no easy way to tell you this. He gave you advice born from what he went through with your mother. Why can’t you decide for yourself without him whispering this nonsense in your ear? You have a mind of your own. Do you really think what you’re doing is right?” I inquired with his large, quite intimidating, member popping out to within an inch of my lips.
It was already dripping like a faucet with a long sticky string stretching from the head down to the floor. He was getting off on hurting me and making me feel like a victim. The young man was treated like a science experiment with the vicious cycle continued to turn from one generation to the next.
“I don’t want to hear another word out of your lying mouth. It’s typical of a woman to think that they can fix things. There isn’t a Saturday night that I don’t stumble out of a bar with an older woman clinging to me. They wear their diamond wedding band the entire time. It makes them feel like they are sticking it to their husbands, but they find out that I’m the one sticking it to them.” He detailed the way that he hunted using these small bars to pursue his prey with his friends helping him without realizing their part.
He still had a firm hold on my hair with both hands. This was no time to celebrate the small victory of getting him to talk. His words showed no compassion. There was no guilt in making a woman his willing sexual puppet.
I glanced toward the bed to see an accompanying medley of different implements lying on the cold impersonal white crisp sheet. He was going to use me and have his fun before stripping away my dignity.
Playing along might be the only way to give myself a little bit of hope to hold onto. He obviously wanted to stir the pot. Giving in was something I had not even considered. He gave the impression of a young and impressionable man on the cusp of becoming an adult but deep down he was still the little boy underneath his father’s thumb. What would he do if he faced a woman of ill-repute willing to encourage his depravity?
There was only one way to find out. It was risky but I felt empowered to be the woman he could never control.
Grabbing it with one hand had him gasping. Stroking the length with the skin stretching over the head had his undivided attention. There was no way he could have expected this was going to happen without a firm grasp on his mistaken reality.
“I shouldn’t be so rigid. The strangest thing of all is that I like taking the initiative. Resistance is for little girls your age. They don’t know what a good thing they have in you until you get them behind closed doors. They might want to run, but deep down they are anxious to be with you. I’m not going to play this game. You should take off your clothes,” I implored while standing up and pressing my hand against his chest to make him take a few steps back in the direction of the bed.
He looked frightened and tried to take back the control, but I was already two steps ahead of him. This was only going to work in the short term. He was taken back by my forceful declaration and the words of conviction that seemed on the surface to tell a story of a woman that wanted what he was dishing out.
“No… I don’t want it like this. Fight me…goddamn it," he beseeched while trying to get a handle on me and feeling the cold slap of indifference to put him in his place.
“You can’t handle a woman that knows what she wants. It’s crazy when you think about it. You have all the tools to make a woman surrender to you under the sheets. You ruin it by thinking you are god’s gift to women. Do you think I’ve never seen this kind of juvenile behavior in the past? Little boys like you have no idea how to treat a real woman of the world,” I said with a steady rush of endorphins to give me the courage of my conviction.
It was not optimistic to think that he was going to lie down for very long before striking back. The rising tide of his fury was right there on the surface simmering ready to explode at the slightest provocation. It was a big decision to play into his hands, but the alternative was something I didn’t even want to think about.
This was my way of making some amendments to his behavior. It was hard for me to think that he could have collaborated with his friends. He was considered their leader, and they followed, thinking that he knew all the answers when he didn’t even know what questions to ask.
He was on the bed unbuttoning his shirt with shaky fingers. Damian had no idea how to act when he wasn’t forcing women to do his bidding. Older women with something to lose including a family they loved dearly would capitulate. It wasn’t like they could tell anybody about what happened without their house of cards falling down around their ears.
Trolling for younger men was the Cougars’ game to play. He prided himself on his youthful enthusiasm and impish little grin to get him into their pants. A few drinks and they would become blind to what was going on behind his seemingly innocent eyes.
“I’ve never met a woman like you," he said, swallowing hard.
“You think you have my number, but I was playing the long game from the moment you came over to sit with us. That was all an act where I was cowering on the floor and begging for you to stop. Ignoring it isn’t going to make it go away,” I said with my finger on his lips.
The door felt like it was a million miles away. One burst of speed and I would be safe in the hall running away from the problem. Growing pains had made me well aware of what some men considered fair game. It would be easy to see what he was up to, but I was temporarily distracted by thoughts of Cameron running around in my mind.
This jerk was what was wrong with society. The jury was out for deliberation, but I was determined to be his judge and executioner. My mind was already set to make a run for it. Some women, experienced and consciously able to receive pleasure in this fashion, would never let him get away with this.
There were no band-aids for this kind of humiliation and injury to the female psyche. Victims came in all walks of life. It wasn’t reserved for young Maidens in distress in the middle of the night. Even those in a committed relationship could show their ugliness in a moment of weakness.
Being passive wasn’t going to get me out of a sticky situation. The words coming out of my mouth made me sick to my stomach. Turning the tables was the only way to prevent a moment where I would be crying in the shower trying to wash off the stench of him. It was not a road that I wanted to travel, and I was willing to breach the inner sanctum of his nasty little mind.
“This is highly unusual. I shouldn’t let you talk to me like that, but I find refreshing," he stated with his erection towering head and shoulders above those that were considered average.
“I had a plan and you fell into my trap without even realizing it. I’m going to make good use of this young body until you can barely walk out of those doors. My marks are going to be all over your body. You can hide them under your clothes, but you will know they are there every time you look at your reflection in the mirror,” I said with my fingernail tracing between his defined pectorals.
