To try curing someone of a "vice," of what is the deepest thing he has, is to attack his very being, and indeed this is how he himself understands it, since he will never forgive you for wanting him to destroy himself in your way and not his—EM Cioran
After breakfast my Anna and I went back to the crate.
We spent the rest of the day in there.
Some things happen, including Kimmie getting raped.
"You've fucked her seven times today. Maybe that pussy needs a rest."
"No. A pussy like this?..doesn't need a rest. I'm giving this pussy a workout. This shit is like a race car..you can run this thing all day and all it needs is a couple of pit stops and the occasional oil change. No I'm going for eight, nine times before I give this pussy a rest."
So I gratified myself on that 17-year-old pussy a few more times and when I came I made sure I came deep in her to get the full sensation.
Kimmie looked at me like an animal you're taming—she just slowly accepted that her pussy was gonna get fucked and there was nothing she could do to change that fact. Every time I put it in, she winced, 'cause she was good and tore up by then, bleeding from the wall of her vagina..but it didn't make any difference to me. She had the kind of pussy I wanted to take a sample of and look at under the microscope to see all those little tendrils and fibers and bulbs of nerves.
If you've never looked at the inside of a pussy under a microscope, I highly recommend it. Each one is different. Each one is beautiful.
And don't Google it—take your own sample and examine that. Give yourself the full experience.
I slide up on that kid—the anti-hippie—and get right in her face.
"You know..you remind me of the first girls I fucked when I was a kid. When nobody knew what they were doing? How many guys you fucked before me. I'm guessing..about..three. Tell me how you lost your virginity or I'll shock your pussy with my wire."
"Your wire?"
"Yeah. It's just an extension cord with the head cut off. I'll stick that up your pussy."
"Haaaaaaaaalllllpppppppp!!!"
"Just tell me how you lost your virginity and I won't shock you with the wire. Just give me a few details," I say, while I'm fucking her naughty underage little cunt.
"Uh..my boyfriend.."
"How long had you been together?"
"About six months?"
"Awww..that's so cute! Here we've only known each other one day and you're already letting me fuck you!"
"You're hurting me."
"Don't worry, your pussy wall will grow back much nicer and stronger, and even tighter than before. The next time we fuck you won't even bleed! So give us some details."
"On what?"
"On how you lost your virginity."
"What do you want to know?"
"Your bed or his?"
"My bed."
"Oooh! Did it have lots of stuffed animals on it that you had to scoot to the side so he could put his dick in you?"
"You're disgusting."
"You're disgusting to me too, in some ways, but I'm just going to have to try to cum in you anyway."
"How am I disgusting to you?"
"Your youth, your ignorance, your inexperience, your judgment, your obnoxious ungrateful attitude, your absolutely horrific excuse for a fashion sense—"
"Ok, Jesus—you're getting what you want, though."
Kimmie looks at Anna.
"Where did you find this guy?"
Anna takes Kimmie's hand.
Kimmie meets Anna's eyes and says, "Thanks for being my friend."
Anna shakes her head.
"I'm not your friend."
But she keeps holding Kimmie's hand until the fucking ends.
After an epic finish in that teenager's blush-ass cunt, Anna says:
"How come you never fucked me that many times?"
"I did. You're just blocking it out."
"Oh. I thought it was because she had a better pussy than me."
I look up while fucking this blonde little dead girl one last time.
"Anna, don't ever doubt your pussy—it's wonderful."
On the eighth or ninth fuck, Kimmie starts crying.
"What're you thinking about that's making you so sad, my poor little dead girl?"
I stop thrusting and brush her hair with my hand.
"It's ok, you can tell me."
She won't make eye contact, but she says, "Home."
"Here's what I want you to do, Kimmie: close your mouth so your teeth are together and your tongue is inside them. Got that?"
She nods.
I punch her in the face as hard as I can. The hit knocks her out instantly.
Anna shrieks. "Why did you do that?!"
"So I can fuck her and pretend she's dead."
Then I put my cock in that beautiful girl's ass and two minutes later there's cum pouring out of it. The whole time I was looking at Kimmie's face, motionless, totally unaware of what was happening to her.
"What do you think of that? That I'm some kind of sicko?"
"Other than worrying about her brain damage, I'm just thinking—"
"That I'm too sick to be around, right? You're done? You're gonna leave?"
"No I was thinking you're a man who knows what he wants."
"You're a cool girl, Anna."
"Yeah, I'm lucky you found me and drugged me and raped me for a month so we could finally get to know each other."
I look at my accomplice.
"You wanna get me some morphine? I wanna totally put her under so I can fuck her like a corpse for the rest of the day."
Anna just turns to the tool chest and gets the supplies.
We morphined that little cum dumpster almost to the point of death just so I could have the feel of her teenage puss shafting me and comforting me for 12 hours straight.
Anna finally pulled me away and we locked up the crate. I put on some mind-control videos for Kimmie to wake to and Anna and I took a shower together.
Watching her undress was more exquisite than crème brûlée.
She had switched panties and was wearing purple ones now, with a matching bra, and as she bent down to reveal herself, the idea that she was staying of her own will, undressing in front of me of her own will, and stepping with me into the shower like a husband and wife—well, it made my dick leak cum like it did the first time I saw her, when she got off the bus.
She washed me—every part, slowly, thoroughly—and when she came to my back she washed my tattoo.
It's in Latin. It says: VINCIT QUI SE VINCIT.
She runs her fingers along it.
"What does this mean?"
"It means..she conquers who conquers herself."
A long pause.
"Is it in the feminine like that?"
"No, I just put it in the feminine to make it apply to you."
"Conquer..control..those concepts are important to you," she says.
And I say, "Turn around."
I take the loofah and wash her, everywhere, feeling her pussy and clitoris with my fingers.
"This is healing up nicely."
Her clitoris—which I mauled with the hammer.
"See?" I say, circling her nipples with my fingers. "Everything heals."
"You certainly put a girl through the paces."
And then she's gasping as I finger her pussy from behind.
She reaches around and grabs my dick, but I say:
"Let's get out of here."
I make her dinner, give her a back rub, and at some point I'm tossing and turning in bed next to this woman in the purple bra and panties who is facing me again—and once again I'm facing away from her.
She says, "What's wrong?"
"I haven't had a woman in my bed in 10 years and all I want to do is cut you up."
"Am I going to wake up with you shocking my pussy with your extension cord?"
"Don't worry. I never torture anyone in my house. But if you want me to shock your pussy, go into the crate and I'll oblige you."
"You want to cut me up?"
"Yeah, in little cubes. I want to take your head off with a hacksaw."
"While I'm still alive?"
"Would you like that?"
"It's making my pussy wet."
"What is?"
"Imagining waking up with you cutting my head off."
"You are a sick little girl, Anna Miller."
"I was raped by my father, remember?"
"I don't think you can blame it all on that."
"No?"
"No. I think there's a personality element."
"As shaped by my early experiences?"
"No, as shaped by your DNA."
I finally get my shoulder into a position where I can sleep on it. What seems like seconds later, I wake up. Anna is crying.
"Anna, what?" I say, not looking at her.
"Why do I love you? After what you did to me?"
I turn over in bed and face her.
"It's actually a very natural reaction."
She sobs.
"It is?"
"Yeah it happens in war all the time. It doesn't mean anything is wrong with you."
" 'Cause it's really weird!"
"I know. I know. Come here. It just means you're human."
And I held her, and comforted her, and it was weird for me, too—because I loved her back.
Sometime past midnight I wake to Anna's voice.
"How did your wife die?"
"How do you know she died? Maybe she left me. Anyway, remember? Day one. I agreed not to ask you what you were running away from and you agreed not to ask about my wife. So what is this, women's intuition? How do you know she died?"
"I just know."
"I didn't kill her."
"I know."
"How do you know she died?"
" 'Cause. You know how there's always one piece of a puzzle missing? I can do that. Like. I can look at a conversation or a person or a relationship and see the missing pieces."
"And?"
"And she's yours."
"So?"
"So how did she die?"
"She got cancer. She loved to drink. Loved to smoke. Thought she had a toothache, went to the dentist—it turned out to be jaw cancer."
"You can die of that?"
"In some cases."
"I'm sorry."
"It's ok. It didn't kill her. It disfigured her. Horribly. And she couldn't get it through her head that I loved her anyway—I didn't care what she looked like. I was in love with this woman's soul—you know what I mean?"
Anna brushes her hand along the top of my arm.
"Anyway she couldn't handle looking like a supernatural ghoul so she shot herself in what was left of her mouth..with my favorite gun..the Glock lying in front of you, and I came home and found her on the kitchen floor and I was like God damn, woman—I needed you but she couldn't hear me due to the bullet that stopped all her beautiful little bits of neural functioning from doing their thing."
"Was this in this house?"
"No, this was a long time ago."
And Anna was smart, 'cause she stopped asking me there, and left me to twist myself up so I didn't know if I wanted to kiss her or kill her or make love to her like I loved her..and I settled on doing none of the above. I stayed awake a long time and listened to Anna's breathing and somehow that comforted me.
That night I had sex dreams, and they were with Anna. We were with each other like young lovers or people who turn into husbands and wives—we truly loved each other. And it stayed with me all throughout the next day, because it was the least controlling sex I had had—even in dreams—since my real wife.
Anna was right about those terms: controlling, conquering. They did define me.
These dreams were stuff like a younger Anna on a couch and I was behind her and she pulled me down on top of her and I took her virginity. It was so innocent—looking in each other's eyes while we were fucking for the first time, either of us—and I have to say those were some of the most disturbing dreams I've had in a long time.