Chapter 6 – Part 15, Raping his Whore

This is chapter 6, part 15 of the Pleasing María novel. If you are under 18 years of age, or are offended by explicit descriptions of sexual activity or violence, or by strong language, please exit this site immediately. To view the Table of Contents of the novel click here. To go directly to the first chapter, click here. To read the latest novel post, click here. This is a rough second draft.


Chapter 6 – Part 15, Raping his Whore

I had to work a little late that day. I called Nanny around 6:00 PM and was surprised and then worried that María hadn’t returned from her gallop with the Pol. I decided to go home anyway – surely at this late hour, the Pol wouldn’t expect the goodbye penis suck in my bed. I drove home worried but calm – the Pol would take good care of her. He couldn’t afford a political scandal with a married woman.

Brett was already asleep when I arrived, and Nanny decided to go out. She didn’t want to be there when the Pol arrived. The limo arrived a few minutes later, and María bounded up the stairs and banged on the door. I opened and she rushed in, nude except for the big diamond engagement ring. She was bubbling, babbling, deliriously excited and happy, fully coked-up. María bounced off the walls and I could barely contain her. She started a detailed description of the event, staccato machine-gun firing without pause from start to finish. In summary, vulgarly translated from vulgar Spanish, and interrupted by the chauffeur knocking with her bag:

“The limo took me to his condo, i strip-teased with the 2nd lady and a lobbyist fucked me, a million dollar fuck, the Pol he tore off my beautiful clothes, destroyed everything, he fucked me without a shower, he didn’t stop all night, he said he loved me, hated i lived with you, he ass-fucked me twice, he asked me to leave you and marry him, i said yes, i deep-throated him, the numb gel works, i love him, you will keep Brett, he dominated me, he bounced me on his penis and ass-fucked me again, i sucked his cock dry, i don’t want you anymore, i want his cock in my cunt forever, it’s the best day of my life, we fucked in the limo all the way back, i love him, he will take me tomorrow, we’re announcing our engagement, i’m leaving you, isn’t this wonderful!”

I had barely assimilated what she said when she bounced-up and went to the bedroom. I followed and tried to hold her on the bed. She said, “Don’t touch me, I’m not yours anymore.” She fell asleep as the words came out. Her body was scratched and bitten, and she lay on her side. I lay next to her, caressed her hip, then rolled to the edge and dry-heaved. I choked and sat up, coughed, cleaned my face with the bed cover. I got up and cleaned the floor. When I returned, her vulva and anus were exposed, both red and swollen. She had dried and still sticky semen smeared around her vagina and thighs. I adjusted her legs until her vulva protruded behind, her labia visible across the edges of her thighs. It was beautiful, even red and swollen.

Not just systems have cleavage points, so do men, and María had tapped mine. I disintegrated into two piles. In the first was a groveling, desperate man whose life just collapsed. He cried and vomited and feared for his very life. Josey comforted me, “wait, she’s still here, with you, there’s still a chance now. Stay home tomorrow, tell her you love and cherish her, you still have a chance. Now caress and hold and love her all night – she’ll know in the morning.”

In the second pile was the righteous penis, proud and arrogant, unmoved by the whore on the bed – there are many more where she came from. Bunk mocked me from this pile, “she never loved you, you were just her ticket to a better life, and now a total asshole has taken her. What did you expect from such a whore?!? Plug her, destroy her, mark her!”

Bunk was right, she dumped me without a second thought. My head filled and swirled with every filthy word in two languages that could describe such a gutter whore. Revenge, I would have my revenge. My penis surged at the thought of fucking another man’s whore.

I raped her, the nasty, druggie whore of a sleazy, corrupt, pimp politician.

I slid my penis easily into her, she was sloppy loose, over-fucked by that monstrous black penis, and well lubricated. I didn’t want her disgusting anus or slutty throat, I wanted to fill her vagina with my poison, to somehow destroy it so she could never fuck that sleaze-ball again. I wanted her to die, and me with her. I stroked into her and cried, ejaculated. I stroked her hair, matted and tangled with semen and lubricant. I buried my face in her hair and breathed the scent of her and the scents of the Pol, and I cried and cursed her with the cruelest words I could muster, the words you should never say to a woman that’s dumping you: “Please don’t leave me, please, please want me, please love me.”

The next morning, I arranged with the nanny to stay all day, and I went to work as María slept. I called the nanny at noon, María was still there, so I stayed at work until 6:00 PM. I didn’t want to be there when María left. I would beg her and cry and be the pathetic man she despised. But when I got home, María was still there.

She was all business – she had packed, her clothes nicely divided by usage. She had boxes of elegant clothes packed in storage boxes she purchased from U-Haul in the morning. She wore the Pol’s engagement ring and was ready to go. She didn’t ignore me, just treated me like an uninteresting roommate. We moved around the house careful to not bump each other. She made several calls, but was unable to get through to the Pol. When night came, we watched TV from different chairs, and said “Buenas noches.” She told me to sleep with Brett.

The next day, I went to work again and she waited all day, moping listlessly around the house, making phone calls. In the evening, I said nothing but normal pleasantries. I slept with Brett again.

The third evening, I started to work on her, “I’m really sorry, I know what this means to you. Maybe he’s just been busy.” I became increasing negative as the evening progressed, “He’s not coming, now or ever.” “I think he wanted to drug you up and fuck you silly.” “Think of his escorts, how many other women he has – what did you expect?” We watched TV from the same couch. On the news, the Pol appeared at another event, the woman reporter gushing over him as if he were the resurrected Martin Luther King. Behind the reporter, the Pol passed by with a new escort on his arm, a Latina. María watched in silence.

I had won.

I turned my face away so María couldn’t see my smugness. She sat silent for a long while, then went to open the front window and threw the engagement ring in the front yard. She asked,

“Can I stay the night? I’ll go to Terri’s tomorrow.”

I had lost.

She was leaving me. I tried to cover my panic with a joke,

“If you leave me I’ll kill myself, then I’ll kill you.”

She missed the dark humor, we sat there silently. I picked up her suitcase, took it to the bedroom, and begin to unpack. I went out to get her travel bag, her ride bag, and unpacked her lubricants, condoms, makeup, perfumes … I took out the small bottle, almost empty, of Jungle Gardenia, and put a dab under her ear. She began to cry, and I sat there with her for awhile, rocking her, kissing and stroking her shining hair, holding her, while she sobbed and cursed and hated and made wild promises of revenge that could never be kept. She began to mutter in argument with herself, taking both sides of the argument, tilting her head to one side then the other. The argument must have been with the Pol. She must have lost – she was here and he was with another woman. She cried again, but with resignation.

She didn’t want me, but I had a new chance to fix that. We slept together again, silent. I hugged her but she wasn’t there. I spoke first:

“What can I do to make you want me again?”

“When will you love me?”

And we were silent again.

The next morning, I took all the suitcases with me in the car so she couldn’t leave me. I saw a glint in the yard, the engagement ring, and I picked it up. At work, I closed my office door to practice. The words caught in my throat, “I love you”, and came out like a croak. Why couldn’t I just say it? I kept trying until the words came easy, but now they sounded plastic. Every hour or so, I tried again, and by the afternoon, I thought I sounded pretty convincing. I wished I had a female colleague I could trust to practice on. I called a florist and a restaurant for reservations for the next day. On the way home, I stopped at a famous jeweler, but I got confused. I didn’t understand women’s jewelry, but found a ring I thought she wouldn’t hate. Then I remembered her fabulous collection from the Mistress Shop, all designer pieces matched to her skin and hair color and the elegant dresses she wore. Now the ring looked like a cheap, tawdry bauble. Instead, I called the florist back and doubled my flower order.

The next day, I practiced all day, in both Spanish and English. I started out croaking again, straight through plastic to convincing, then realized my facial expressions were all wrong, I was trying too hard. I went to practice in the bathroom mirrors. Saying “Te amo” was much easier than “I love you.” By the time I left for home, I was a quivering wreck.

We dressed, María refused to wear anything from the Pol, so she went casual but I put on my best suit. We went to the Seal Rock restaurant, drank a little too much wine, part of my plan, and had an excellent seafood dinner. I walked her out to the boardwalk, and right on cue, the florist delivery guy appeared. The flowers were beautiful, and María began to soften. I decided to switch to Spanish, it was naturally more romantic. I took her next to the Camera Obscura, went down on one knee, and took her hand.

María ruined everything – she said,

“Don’t say anything you don’t mean.”

How could I mean something I don’t understand? At least she could give me credit for trying!

I tried, “I love you”, but the words caught in my throat, what I croaked out was unintelligible in either language. She said,

“Don’t bother, I don’t want you anymore.”

All my practice had failed me. I was still on one knee, I had to say something, anything. If I got up now, I would throw her and myself off the cliff. Bunk and Josey scuffled, kicking my neurons. Bunk gave up and Josey pried open my jaws. She spoke through my mouth, the entirely appropriate question for my position,

Te pido, no, te ruego el honor de casarte conmigo.” (I ask you, no, I beg you to grant me the honor of marrying me.)

Vos, que burro sos, ya lo somos.” (You’re a jackass, we’re already married.)

I waited for Josey to speak, but she faded back, muttering, “I got her attention, now it’s up to you…” My mind raced ahead, and my mouth followed behind,

No, nunca nos casamos bien, no tuvimos boda, solo un documento. Ni tuvimos anillos, ni una fiesta, ni los amigos presente para reconocer nuestro amor. Empezamos mal y nunca recuperamos. Es hora de componer este enorme error. Si me amas, si me quieres, cásete conmigo.” (No, we never married right, we didn’t have a wedding, just a contract. We had neither rings, nor a party, nor our friends to celebrate our love. We began badly and never recovered. It’s time to fix this enormous error. If you love me, if you want me, marry me.)

It was incredible, I had said the ‘love’ word twice without flinching!

Tú te burlas de mi, ya lo somos, ya tenemos un hijo.” (You’re mocking me, we’re already married, we already have a son.)

No, te lo pido totalmente en serio.” (No, I’m dead serious.)

¿Tú me amas a mi?” (Do you really love me?)

It was now or never, but it came out easily,

Te amo hasta la muerte.” (I love you as deep as death.)

Sí.” (Yes.)

¿Sí? ¿Sí que?” (Yes? Yes what?)

Sí te amo, sí te quiero, sí me casaré contigo.” (Yes I love you, yes I want you, yes I’ll marry you.)

It happened too fast, too unexpected. I was stunned. I didn’t know what to do, but María did. She pulled me up and kissed me, molded her body against me, destroyed me again, frightened me more than I ever experienced before.

So overlooking Seal Rock, so many years after we married, we became engaged, like new lovers again.

What deal I made with the devil I didn’t know – I had broken my iron-clad, lifetime rule. It was pure self-treason – the words came out so easily. I still didn’t know what love was, but I figured somewhere in all the joy and pain I had experienced, somewhere buried in there, there must be love, and I was satisfied. Did it really matter if I understood love? Probably not, and I decided from that moment onward, I would act as if I knew love, and therefore, I could say I loved María. I had no illusions María’s sexual appetites had changed, nor had my masochism and need for humiliation. We would surely hurt each other, but with love; and we would recover with love. I couldn’t wait to begin.

I should have been more careful for what I asked for. I didn’t have to wait too long.

We made love that night. We didn’t have sex, or fuck each other; I didn’t ask for her throat or anus – they don’t belong to me and she’ll decide when I deserve those pleasures. We made love with passion. The world was beautiful and life was good again.

End of book content.


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