From Best Women's Erotica 2007 by Rachel Kramer Bussel. On sale now and worth it.—N.B.
"I want you to hold me down and fuck me hard. Don't treat me like myself, or like a woman at all—treat me like an animal," I told him, the last such pronouncement I would make. Aidan was the kind of guy who always made me feel depraved, and he had a special knack for making my pussy tighten so fiercely I worried that it would stay that way permanently, like how parents warn their kids their eyebrows will stay furrowed if they keep on frowning. I'd been lusting after him for almost a year, but had finally broken through my own fear and told him what I wanted from him, only to find he felt the same way. I'd never asked anyone anything of the sort—a little spanking, a few minutes of bondage, a few dirty words thrown my way, but that was about it. This was different. This was real, raw. That's how much I wanted him. At first, I wasn't sure if he got what I was saying—I didn't want him to hold back, at all. I could tell that he had been, just enough to make me long for more, to make me feel slightly put-off, like he thought I was too fragile to take what he could really give me.
Maybe it's because outside the bedroom, I'm his boss at our small town's indie record store. I'm the girl that all the wannabe guitar players drool over—five nine, long jet black hair often tinged with green or red, eyebrow ring, purple lipstick, powder-pale face. My clothes, some mixture of black, tight, and sexy, usually paired with
imaginative stockings and combat boots, never fail to make at least one set of eyes turn at the store. But Aidan, unlike most of the guys who passed my way, caught my gaze immediately. He was smart, not just some snot-nosed punk looking to steal CDs when they thought I wasn't looking. Aidan could talk as easily about Dorothy Parker or Bukowski as he could The Buzzcocks or Braid or even The Beatles. He didn't lord his intelligence over anyone there, either, it just came out if you provoked him enough, or stayed hidden, like a turtle under its shell, if you didn't. He was more clean-cut than the other guys, so you had to peer a little more closely to see his edge, to catch a sneer or raised brow, to see the smirks that were gone almost before they'd even formed. He had plenty of scars and dreams and fantasies, but they were wrapped up so tight I didn't know if he'd be able to let go, even though it was clear from his rock-hard cock and the look on his face, eyes half-lidded and wet mouths lack, that he wanted me.
I was sick and tired of lying back and letting some guy rock his cock inside me like we were on a seesaw, gliding gently upward, pausing, then zooming downward at the most predictable pace imaginable. Even at 25, I knew that sex should take you out of the everyday, should make you as wild and ferocious as a rabid dog—in heat. The guys before Aidan had been cute enough, but just couldn't give me what I most craved, what I dreamed about as I squirmed against my slithering fingers as the walls of my bedroom shook with the latest single the store had sent our way.
"Are you sure that's really what you want, Tina? You already drive me so crazy with that sweet ass of yours, twitching it the way you do when you walk, like you're moving each of those cheeks separately, taunting me with them so I just want to grab you and smack them till they're bright red." Just hearing the normally sly, sarcastic Aidan saying those words, thinking those thoughts, made a tiny trickle of liquid slide down my thigh. Since somehow finding ourselves wedged together behind the counter last week during closing, we'd been fucking like rabbits until every moment seemed suffused with his scent, his touch. Even when we weren't together, my pussy was working overtime, as if asking when he'd be back.
We were standing in the doorway of my tiny kitchen, part of the so-called bargain I'd scored to live in the East Village, meaning I got a minuscule doll-sized set of three rooms, rammed right up against my neighbor's identical layouts. But I didn't care, because how much room did I really need to get fucked into oblivion?
Aidan was behind me, his back against the front door, while mine was slammed against his hard cock. I could feel it pressing between my ass cheeks as I pushed back against him, and I leaned down, showing off my flexibility by wrapping my wrists around my ankles, making my already short black latex skirt ride up my unusually bare thighs. I was sure my tiny, wet red thong barely covered my pussy lips. He growled, and I knew I had him right where I wanted him. He tugged upward on one side of the thong, making it dig into my cunt lips until I whimpered, tears of joy forming in my eyes. More, I thought, I want more. Then he let go, but immediately grabbed my hips and slammed me hard back against his dick. I heard the metallic twang of his zipper being undone, and then his warm cockhead was tracing the contours of my slit, tapping against my opening like he was testing out the right key to unlock my door. Except Aidan knew after only a week together that he could have me anywhere and everywhere, could take me when I least expected it and I'd be wet and ready for him. He was simply that kind of guy. Just as
I was getting used to the feel of him rubbing against me, making me ache more than I would have thought possible, he stopped.
He pushed me roughly forward, and I had to scramble to place my hands on the floor in front of me to steady myself. Then he shoved the remaining fabric of my skirt well over my hips and reared back, slapping my right asscheek hard. The sting traveled throughout my body, seeming to leave my mouth in a whoosh of air. I had to really focus to not tip over, and then he did it again, the sound echoing through the room. He tugged on my thong, harder this time, keeping it there so it bisected my lips, letting them fall on either side of the thin piece of fabric. "You want me to treat you like an animal, T? I hope you're ready for me." I am, I am, I mouthed to myself.
Then he let out a growl, mimicking several animals at once as he brought his hand down and spanked me again, this time using his hand to get at both cheeks at once. He leaned down and before I knew what was happening, his teeth had sunk into my skin, the fleshy underside of my ass, his mouth moist, his teeth sharp as I got what I'd asked for, got the fangs and claws as his nails dug into me, his teeth nipped down my ass to play at my thighs. When he moved us into the other room, carrying me over to the bed and laying me down on the mattress, my body pressed flat against the crisp sheets, all of me bared, open, waiting, I snuck a peek behind me and almost didn't recognize him. Like the best actors, he'd become someone else, gone to his own primal inner core as he scowled, his features contorted into a wild snarl of pleasure and passion and lust and sadism, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he whacked my legs apart. I went limp, a willing rag doll, as he pounced on me. His weight pushed me deeper into the bed, his cock pushing against my slit.
I felt deliciously, delightfully small, a little girl to his giantess, as his hands raked through my hair, then clawed down my back, the red lines burning as he did his best to mark me, brand me his wildest animal. He reached beneath me, pinching my clit hard,
until it hardly even felt like my special nub, but something else entirely. He ground my hard pink button between his fingers, so tight I felt almost numb, a blaze of heat wicking its way upward and inside, then petering out just as quickly as it started. I'd wanted something, certainly, when I'd asked for this treatment, wanted to go farther than I ever had, shed some layer of skin that's essential for daily life but feels like a cloak during sex, even when I'm naked. I'd wanted something vaguely urgent, something like the Nine Inch Nails line, something like what I'd seen in those porn videos where the girl screams and screams and screams until you don't quite know what's happening to her, only that she cannot live without it. But whatever I'd wanted, whatever I'd dreamed about, Aidan had torched completely. My meek little fantasies were child's play compared to this, were like going to first base when he'd simply upended the whole ballpark. With just his bare hands, his voice, his cock, he became an animal for me, one who wouldn't take no for an answer because he didn't even speak any language, let alone English. He became exactly what I hadn't known I needed until then, his paws digging at me, burrowing deep inside, stretching not only my pussy but my boundaries as he bit and dug and pinched and thrust.
My cunt was so perfectly sore, so raw, so hot, that when he finally slammed his cock into me, I went wild. The sounds I let out were now the inhuman ones, bubbling up like some deep ancestral wail, coiling forth from my stomach, my cunt, my gut, my memories. My body was pinned beneath him, as much by shock as by force, and I let the tears stream down my cheeks, let him overtake me as his cock seemed to fill my entire body, coursing through me like blood, like power, like magic. Later, I would laugh at how truly out-of-this-world this was, how far removed from our petty punk politics, our little scene, the endless rounds of gossip. Whereas other girls might tattoo their sluttiness across their arms, or their asses, or their chests, the way Aidan fucked me went deeper than any ink ever could. It marked me inside, until I thought I might explode, combusting right there, his prey through and through. He speared me, plunging inside me with all the force he'd been holding in for years, forever possibly, going further than I'd have thought possible, literally and figuratively, smashing me into the floor while my body tried not to escape but to mold to his, to fuse against him so I could feel what he was feeding me forever. As he plundered me, as he fucked me like the animal I'd become, he gave me so much more than his cock, so much more than simply his body. Aidan gave me his darkest self, like a werewolf or a witch, the kind that only came out at night, under the coveted safety of the dark, one meant not for public viewing but for me alone. His dark side became mine as we growled at each other, shaking with need until I crumbled first, howling, baying, barking, making noises that were neither animal nor human, but somewhere caught between the two, my body twisted beneath him as I let his power crash over and then through me. I was still quaking when he came, his semen shooting into me like a rocket launching.
And then somehow, after many minutes of silence, of mouths opening and then closing, of words and thoughts gently tiptoeing back into our heads, pushing us over to what humans do best, we smiled at each other. He tumbled onto his back and pulled me on top, and we laughed, while a few errant tears raced down my cheeks. "I think I know what your next tat should be," he said, doodling his finger against my right bicep. "Wild Animal—because you are." Later, he sketched it for me, somehow managing to recreate the essence of what we'd done with elaborate gothic letters, a forest surrounding them, danger signs lurking amid beaded eyes and sharp teeth. For now, I'm just keeping his etching in my pocket all day, so I can pull it out and look at it and be reminded of him, of us. There are some things I want the world to know about, things I can't stand to have assumed so must emblazon them prominently, but Aidan and I together, well, that's something else entirely. Besides, anyone watching closely enough when I smile just so, making my incisors gleam and my eyes flash, should be able to see the animal in me. And if they don't, they're just not looking closely enough.—R.K.B.
