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*Hey! It’s been absolutely ages since I posted a story because I’ve been so so so busy but hopefully soon I can get back into the swing of things.*

*This story is technically a sequel to a previous story I posted called “Emmy”, but I’ve written it so it’s not necessary to have read that to find out this, but go read that if you want a more romantic story and to learn how these two characters met.*

*Now this isn’t a rape story but I’ve tagged it as dub-con ‘cos it’s very very rough and the lines of consent are slightly blurred… but it’s still two consenting adults.*

*If you’ve got any questions or thoughts about the story please leave a opinion or drop me a message :)*

*Enjoy!*

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The woman on the phone speaks into my ear in the same tone of voice a doctor would use when informing you that that lump isn’t just a lump but something much more terminal.

‘We really enjoyed your collection of short stories. It’s obvious that you have a real talent when it comes to writing,’ she says. ‘But unfortunately, it’s not what we’re looking for at the moment.’

I’m sitting on my bed, squeezing my phone tightly in my hand. How much pressure does it take to break a phone screen? It’s already covered in cracks from when I dropped it in the lift the other week. The TV’s on in the other room. I can hear screams and growls and the sound of zombie brains being smashed with numerous implements. Probably Emmy watching The Walking Dead. I don’t think I can face her again with another rejection from another publisher. She’s all the time so understanding and I hate her slightly because of it. And I hate myself for that.

‘Hello? Are you still there?’ the woman says.

‘Yes—sorry.’ How long was I zoned out?

‘As I said, you have talent. But short story collections aren’t really what we specialize in here. I recommend you try submitting your work to literary magazines.’

‘Okay. Thanks for letting me know,’ I say shortly.

‘If you ever write something longer, a novella or short novel, please keep us in mind—’

I hang up and inhale slowly. I wanna fucking cry and I need a drink. Something strong. I don’t hear the TV anymore. Emmy must know I’m finished with the call. She’s going to be so hopeful. No matter how many times I get rejected her hope never wavers. Not like me. I think I gave up my dream of being a writer five publishers ago. I get up, legs feeling wobbly. It sounds mean but I wish Emmy wasn’t here. She’s all but officially moved in with me—she spends more time here than at her student flat nowadays. And I love that she wants to be with me. She’s funny and beautiful and in all honesty, I’m punching way above my weight, but sometimes I want to be alone. Sometimes I don’t want to talk about it. Sometimes I just want to get absolutely blind drunk and not have to worry about my problems.

I go into the living room. Emmy is on the couch, curled up under a blanket. Even without makeup, her skin is perfect and smooth. Her red hair’s tied up in a messy high bun, though a couple of her bangs are loose at the front.

‘Hey, babe,’ she says. ‘How did it go?’

I don’t reply. I can’t look at her, so I just walk past her and head straight cupboard where we keep the booze.

‘Babe?’

I grab a tumbler and take out a bottle of tequila and pour a tall drink. It burns my throat but I down half in one glug.

‘They rejected you,’ she says, quietly.

‘What gave it away?’ I say with more sharpness than intended. ‘Yeah, they rejected it. Said it wasn’t what they’re looking for at the moment.’

‘Well, don’t get down about it.’ She gets up, the blanket falling to the floor. She’s still wearing her gym shorts and sports bra. Her body is perfect, slim and slender, and not an ounce of fat except for some thickness in her ass and tits. ‘There’s all the time more publishers. Y’know Dune was rejected by like, twenty publishers before Frank Herbert finally get it published.’

‘Yes, I know.’ I say, turning away from her to hide my contempt. ‘And so was Harry Potter and so was Lord of the Flies. You say the same thing literally every time.’

I feel her small hand on my shoulder, it’s warm. ‘I know I do. I’m… I’m just trying to make you feel better.’

‘Yeah? Well, don’t.’

‘Come on. Please don’t be like this. Let’s just forget about it. Let’s order a pizza and watch Netflix.’ Her hands move down around my waist and she hugs me tight. I feel constricted by her.

‘Forget about it? Forget about what Emmy? All of it? Should I forget about ever getting anything published?’ I push her away and turn around to face her. She looks up at me, her big dark eyes are still sympathetic, but I don’t know how much longer they’ll stay that way.

‘You know that’s not what I meant, Grey. I’m just saying there’s nothing you can do about it tonight, so—’

‘That’s easy for you to say. You’re not one who has to live with this constant feeling that you’re wasting your life.’

‘You’re not wasting your life. You’re a great writer—’

‘Obviously not.’ I down what’s left of the tequila in my glass and go to pour another one.

Emmy grabs my wrist. ‘No, Grey, don’t.’

‘Get off of me.’

‘No, Grey. I’m not sitting here watching as you drink yourself stupid.’

‘I said get the fuck off of me.’ And I shake her off and pour another full glass.

‘Oh, okay. Be like this. Be a dick.’

‘I’m just trying to have a drink,’ I snap. ‘Is that allowed? Or do I have to get your permission to have a drink in my own fucking apartment?’

Her eyes go narrow and fierce. ‘I’m just trying to help.’

‘Well, I don’t need your help. I’m a grown man. I don’t need help from a fucking nineteen-year-old art student.’

‘Don’t bring my age into this. You’re only three years older than me. And what do you mean by an “art student”? You literally studied English literature!’

‘Oh, shut up!’ I say, and without thinking I throw the glass across the room. It smashes into the wall next to the front door. The clear liquid drips down the wallpaper and onto the wooden floor. It’ll probably stain.

Silence. A god-awful silence. Emmy takes a step back. It takes a moment for me to identify the expression in her eyes. Anger? Hate? No, it’s fear. She’s frightened.

‘Listen, Grey,’ she speaks slowly, the words trembling as they leave her mouth. ‘I understand that you’re frustrated. That you’re angry. But you can’t behave like this.’

‘Emmy?’ I say.

‘Yes?’

‘Go fuck yourself.’

Tears start to sparkle in the corner of her eyes. ‘You know, Grey? You can be a real bastard sometimes. I love you, and I try to be a good girlfriend. I really do. But what’s the point? Ninety-nine percent of the time you’re the perfect boyfriend. But sometimes you can be a bitter little shit.’

I lean down and speak through gritted teeth. ‘You know, Emmy, if you wanna be a good girlfriend why don’t you shut the fuck up. Wanna be a good girlfriend? Why don’t you keep quiet when it comes to things you’re too fucking stupid to find out.’

She opens her mouth, ready to retort. But I’m already gone. I grab my coat and keys and go to open the front door. She follows me.

‘Yeah, run away like you always do. Go on. God forbid you actually face your problems like a man. You’re a fucking bastard, Grey. I fucking hate you. I won’t fucking be here when you get back.’

I stop and turn. ‘You hate me? You hate me? After all I do for you? After all I fucking buy for you? You don’t get to hate me, Emmy.’

‘Don’t even go there,’ she says, firmly.

‘No, let’s. Let’s go there. How much money have I given you since we started dating? How many clothes have I bought you? Christ, even what you’re wearing now I bought for you ‘cos you had no fucking money in your account.’

‘That’s not fair, Grey. You know I’m struggling—’

‘Oh, fuck off. You’re not struggling. Your mum and dad are fucking loaded. Why don’t you go ask them for some money?’ She clenches her fists. I knew this would hit a nerve, and that’s why I said it. ‘But hey, why ask mummy and daddy for money when you can just leech it off of me? Like some fucking parasite—’

I should’ve seen the slap coming, but I didn’t. Just a white flash and searing hot pain in my cheek. My vision returns after a moment. Emmy’s looking at her open palm like she can’t believe she actually just did that. I move my jaw around, it’s probably going to leave a mark. Who would’ve wondered she could hit so hard?

Neither of us speak. What the fuck is there to say after your girlfriend has just slapped you across the face because you called her a money-sucking parasite? The healthy thing to do would be to leave and then talk it out after you’ve both calmed down. Yeah, that’s what I need to do.

But I don’t, because all I wanna do now is fuck her. Hard.

I step closer and grab her by the shoulders and roughly push up her against the wall. A picture frame falls off and smashes, adding to the broken glass from the thrown glass. She tries to fight me off, but can’t. I hold her in place and force a kiss onto her lips. She denies me for a moment, then relents and kisses me back, our tongues vying for control in each other’s mouths. I fumble with my belt, finding it hard to both undo it and keep Emmy pinned against the wall. Then there’s a sharp sting on my bottom lip and I pull away. She smiles devilishly, hatred and lust burning like coals in her eyes.

Emmy bit me. The bitch bit me. It’s not bleeding, luckily.

‘Fuckin’ cunt,’ I say and kiss her again. I hold her arms above her head to stop her from fidgeting and use my body to press her against the wall. I manage to clutch both wrists in one hand and then use my other hand to finish unbuckling my belt. ‘You wanna be a good girlfriend, huh? That’s what you said, right? You want to be there for me? Well, how about you begin by sucking my fucking cock?’

‘Make me, you fucking pussy. Go on, be a big man and make me suck your cock.’ She tries to bite me again but I dodge my head away just before she makes contact.

I hold her by the throat, squeezing tightly. She scratches at my forearm—it stings but I shrug it off. ‘You need to start doing as you’re told,’ I say, then I slap her across the face, twice in quick succession. While she’s stunned I push her down to her knees and pull my cock from my boxers. It’s rock-hard. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been harder than I am right now. ‘Open your goddamn mouth.’

‘Make me—’

I slap her again, harder. ‘Stop talking.’ I raise my hand to slap her again, but there’s no need. Emmy gives in and opens her mouth and I force my dick into her throat, making her gag. Usually, when she blows me I ease it in, letting her work my shaft with her tongue. Not now. Now I go balls deep with the first thrust, pinning her head between my crotch and the wall, moving my hips back and forth and using her mouth like a cheap plastic fleshlight. I let out a groan. ‘This all you’re good for,’ I say, breathing heavily. ‘You’re just a fucking whore. You fucking belong to me.’ I slap her hard again and she grunts in pain as she chokes, but behind that pain, there’s a slight moan of pleasure. ‘Fucking dumb slut. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You like getting used like this?’

She tries to say something but the words are garbled around my cock. I think it may’ve been an attempt at fuck you but I can’t be sure. She slaps at my legs, trying to get me to ease off on the facefucking but I don’t relent. She can’t breathe but I don’t really give a shit. All I care about right now is getting off, and Emmy doesn’t get a choice in the matter. I press as deep as I can into her, resting my balls on her chin.

I’m so fucking close. I wanna unleash my load right now, shoot it all down her throat and make her swallow every single fucking drop. I feel that tightness building as I near climax.

She stops pathetically smacking at me and changes tactics, digging her nails into the back of my leg and clawing at my flesh. I yelp as pain shoots through my leg. I pull away from her and swear. Looking down, I see a trio of deep scrapes on the back of my thigh, fresh blood trickling down from each one. ‘You fucking dumb whore!’ I shout.

Emmy’s fallen onto her hands and knees, coughing up pre-cum and spittle onto the floor. She looks up, crimson-cheeked. Her hair has fallen loose from the bun and is matted to her face. She sneers, her eyes wild and mad. In a raspy voice, she spits, ‘Oh, daddy, did I hurt you? I thought you were fucking man! You’re such a pussy.’ She stumbles to her feet and touches her sore throat and winces in pain. ‘You know, maybe I should go find a real fucking man,’ she says. ‘Someone who isn’t such a pussy like you. I need to discover a guy that’ll fuck me good, ‘cos you obviously can’t, you pathetic piece of shit—’

‘Shut the fuck up,’ I say, grabbing her forearm and dragging her towards the couch. The Walking Dead is still paused on the TV. I rip the sports bra off her, those perfect perky tits bouncing free as I do.

‘You’re going to have to buy me another one,’ she says, looking at the tattered fabric on the floor, her face bitchy and spiteful.

I slap her. ‘I bought you that one, remember? I buy everything for you, you ungrateful bitch. I think it’s time I get something in return.’ She begins to say something but the words become a cry as I pinch one of her hard nipples. I smack her tits, leaving the flesh red and raw, and then I slap her across the face again, this time hard enough that my hand goes numb from the impact.

Her eyes glaze over, and for a moment I wonder if I’ve finally slapped some sense into her. But alas, the brat still has some fight in her. She looks at me, smiling that same disrespectful smile, and says, ‘You hit like a fucking girl.’

I don’t reply, just spin her around and bend her over the arm of the couch. I hook my fingers around the waistband of her gym shorts and yank them down, revealing a nice pair of black panties that I easily rip off. She tries to stand but I forcefully push her back down and feel up between her legs, finding that her thighs are covered in her wetness and that her pussy is absolutely soaked. I shove two fingers inside of her and she growls in furious pleasure. ‘Oh my god,’ I say, laughing to myself, ‘you’re such a fucking slut. You’re so wet. Do you like it when I hit you? You like it when I treat you like a cheap whore, don’t you?’

‘Go fuck yourself, Grey—’

I push my cock inside of her and she screams out. She may be soaking wet but she’s still tight and I’ve just rammed my whole length into her. Her arms flail outwards but I catch them and fold them behind her back, giving me something to hold onto as I fuck her pussy as hard and ferociously as I can. I want her to feel every single thrust and every single inch of my cock. I want her to remember this every time she ever thinks about sex. I want to make it so she can’t walk straight for a month. I want it to hurt every time she sits down, a little twinge of pain right in her cunt that reminds her of who she belongs to. Basically, I wanna ruin her…

Now, that gives me an idea.

I pull out. Emmy groans, breathing heavily. She looks over her shoulder, her eyes are bloodshot and tears run down her face. ‘What? You finished already?’ she says sarcastically. ‘Couldn’t even last five minutes? Maybe you’re the fucking dumb cunt—’

I smack her arse and she yelps, ‘You’d like that wouldn’t you? You fucking cumdumpster. If it weren’t for me, you’d be out in an alley somewhere getting creampied by strangers, five quid a pop. Fucking whore. I should’ve known. The first time we hooked up you let me cum inside you, remember? I tried to push you off but you rode my cock until I filled you up. You were begging for it. Desperate fucking skank.’ I slap her arse again, my hand imprinting on the flesh. ‘No, I’m not finished yet. I’m just done with your cunt.’ I rub my cock upward, in between her cheeks.

Her eyes shoot open as it dawns on her what I intend to do. ‘Grey, don’t you fucking dare you son of a bitch—’

It takes a bit of pressure, but Emmy’s asshole eventually stretches around the tip of my cock. She shrieks out, a high-pitched howl. Then she releases an animalistic grunt as I force myself in deeper. Her legs kick up and down, then against the couch and against my calves but I don’t react, the feeling of pure fucking euphoria in my cock is blocking any pain I may be feeling. I pull out slightly, keeping the head inside, then quickly slam it back in. She jumps, her back buckling, but I lean down over her, keeping her pinned. I whisper in her ear as I fuck her, ‘You fucking belong to me, okay? That’s the deal from now on. Your mouth, your cunt, your arse, they all fucking belong to me.’ I ram my whole length into her, my balls slapping against her drenched cunt. ‘Say it!’ I snap, grabbing her throat. ‘Fucking say it!’

‘I—’ she groans, speaking in between my violent thrusts, ‘I… belong to you, daddy.’

‘That’s a good slut,’ I say, kissing up the side of her cheek, then turning her head to face me and kissing her lips. She whimpers but returns the kiss, crying and moaning in pleasure. I break the kiss off and slap her again—don’t want her to get too comfortable. I place my hand on the back of her head and shove her face down into the couch cushions, speeding up my assault on her arse. Wet slaps sound out through the apartment as I grunt and Emmy moans into the fabric of the couch.

Soon I feel that tightness in my groin return, signalling that my orgasm is soon to arrive. My thrusts become random, and unrhythmic, but still hard and fast. The pleasure builds quickly in my cock and a moment later I let loose a stream of cum. I make sure to keep fucking her, pushing my seed deep into her arse. Underneath me, Emmy shudders and jolts as her own orgasm pours through her. I reach down and grab her breast, groping and squeezing it as she climaxes.

I thrust into her a final time and come to a slow stop. I stay inside her as my cock softens and she shakes beneath me. It looks as if she’s shivering from the cold, but it’s just the tail end of her orgasm. She sobs into the cushion. I stand up and pull my cock from her arse and a moment later cum leaks from her ruined hole. I watch as it drips down the inside of her leg, down her calf and onto the wooden floor.

I wanna say something but I don’t know what. I open my mouth but my throat is dry and nothing comes out. I feel the warmth of emotion behind my eyes. Emmy’s still shaking slightly, still weeping. I leave her there, sprawled out on the couch, naked and abused, and go into the bathroom.

In the mirror, I see my face is red and flushed. A bruise is already forming where she hit me and there are streaks of dried blood running down my thigh from where she scratched me. My eyes are bloodshot and shiny with tears.

I turn the shower on and stand under the freezing cold water, letting it wash over my head and down my back. I close my eyes, wishing I could disappear. Then I collapse to the floor and sit with my back against the cool tiles. Through the shower glass, a petite figure appears. It’s Emmy. Still naked and a total mess. Her cheeks are crimson from when I slapped her and her throat is bruised from when I choked her. My cum is still trickling down her thigh.

She steps into the shower and stands beneath the water for a moment, then sits down next to me. Our bodies touch and she takes my hand in hers and squeezes it. I start to cry and she holds my head in her arms and kisses me softly on the forehead.

She tells me everything is going to be alright.

NSFW: yes

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