Silent All These Years (25)

I asked Him for the purple ones, hope thats ok?

Been a funny couple of days. I got involved in a pointless debate on censorship yesterday - pointless because the person who started it didn't seem able to string a cogent argument together, and because it didn't really cover any new ground.

But it did get me thinking about the stuff that I write. Now, I'll be the first to defend myself and my writing - I firmly believe that people should be able to express themselves, no matter what their thoughts are - but it does feel that a lot of what I've written recently has had the same kind of pattern and feel to it. And that will never do.

So I thought I'd try and write something a bit different. If you like my usual stuff then you might want to give it a miss ( I think it's going to be a three parter, so come back in about four blogs time if you want ? )- but rest assured, normal service will be resumed soon.

Hope some of you enjoy it, anyway.

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She sat at a table in the quiet part of the bar, keeping herself to herself as usual. The other occupants barely noticed her. Despite her obvious beauty, most people in town knew only two things about her – that she'd been in an abusive relationship for some years with a man who was now in prison, and that since the day he'd been arrested she hadn't said a word to anyone. Whether she couldn't speak, or could but just didn't want to, no-one knew. It was fairly obvious that she just wanted to be left alone, and people were happy to respect her wishes.

He was passing through, or so he thought. Tended not to stay too long in any one place. Dark haired, tall, with a cold look to his face, but something haunted in his eyes. Some people saw that look and assumed he was running from someone or something. It wasn't true. If anything, he was running from himself. He had enough money to keep going, found work when he needed it, took his pleasures when they crossed his path, and all of that was just fine with him. He didn't need anything else.

He'd seen her the minute he walked into the bar; difficult not to notice her really, her soft brown eyes and long dark hair. She was sitting alone with her book, and after he'd bought himself a drink he'd walked over to ask what she was reading. She hadn't said anything, just shown him the title. All his attempts to engage her in conversation had failed, so in the end he'd just shrugged and walked away.

She didn't know what made her knock on his hotel room door later that evening. Perhaps it was the many nights she'd spent alone, perhaps it was the fact that he would soon be leaving, perhaps it was something about him. But whatever the reason, she found herself standing nervously in the corridor in a simple black dress, stockings and heels, hoping he wouldn't turn her away.

He opened the door, and stood there for a moment, obviously surprised to see her. He invited her in nonetheless; offered her a drink. She shook her head.

He poured one for himself, from a bottle of wine that was already open. The tension crackled between them.

It became awkward. He was unable to understand why she'd come, she was unable to tell him. She just stood in the middle of the room, her hands folded, and her head bowed with shyness. He stood in front of her, just sipping his wine, close enough to feel her breath on his neck.

Finally, she turned to go, saddened and humiliated by what she saw as his rejection. But as she put her hand out towards the door, he grabbed her wrist to stop her. The touch of his fingers – so deliberate, so firm – on her skin sent a shiver through her.

It wasn't enough. She had to see if he had what it took, if he had what she needed. Silently, she jerked her hand away and glared at him.

He slapped her face, hard. It almost made her cry out, but she bit her lip as she spun across the room away from him and fell to the floor.

Her heart raced. Slowly, she lifted her head. He was leaning against the door, half a smile on his lips, a calculating look on his face. Was he waiting to see if she'd scream ? Or whether she would push past him, through the door and leave ?

She did neither. She stood up carefully, and walked back to where he was standing. Gently she took his hand and placed it on her still burning cheek. Then she stood there and waited.

He slapped her again, just as hard as the first time. She moaned a little, but didn't fall.

He made to slap her again, but she caught him by the wrist. Kissed his fingers. And then pressed them to the zip at the top of her dress.

He seemed to understand then, and smiled at her as he pulled the zip down. The dress opened up like a flower, and he hung it carefully over the back of a chair, watching as she shivered in her underwear in the middle of his hotel room.

“ Kneel. “ It was the first word he'd spoken since she'd walked into his room.

Quickly she got down on all fours in front of him. He walked around her, at one point nudging her with his foot to show that her right hand wasn't level with her left. She adjusted her position, and dropped her head.

“ Stay still. “ He said, slowly removing the belt from his suit trousers. It made a slight noise as it came free of the belt loops ; she heard it and trembled with anticipation.

He brought it down on her hard, two, three times. The force was unlike anything she'd ever felt, it almost knocked her to the floor. And the pain – this wasn't like the drunken beatings she'd received at the hands of her abusive ex husband – this was studied, precise, deliberate pain. Her skin cried out for more, even as she kept her mouth closed and stayed silent.

He beat her slowly and methodically, until her face was pressed against the floorboards and her backside was bruised an angry red. But there was tenderness in his fingertips when he reached down and helped her to her feet. He put his hand to her face, tilted it to the light. There was fear in her eyes, and desire, but also something else, something he couldn't describe. He pushed her back against the table, and slapped her again. She raised her cheek for another blow.

Instead he put his hand between her thighs, and pushed her legs apart forcefully. Then he stood back, against the door again.

He was testing her, she could tell. First she reached behind her back, unhooked her bra, shrugged it from her shoulders. The air felt cold as it played across her skin. Then she reached down with her left hand, pulled the thin lace of her panties to one side so that he could see her cunt. Then she stayed there, silent and unmoving, letting him see all the way into her soul.

He unfastened his trousers, took his cock in his hand. Then, before he walked over to fuck her, he reached behind him and locked the door.

will be looking through you're stories now, hurry up and write the rest please.x