Dancing With the Devil

I'll never forget the look on his face.

We were in the woods; I'd lured him there under the pretense that we'd fuck. It was dark in the bar, it was dark in the woods, but I was still surprised he hadn't recognized me. I wasn't thinking - what would I do once we were out there? It wasn't as if I had the physical strength to subdue him or anything, and I certainly didn't want to have sex with him...again.

I needed time to think, but the next thing I knew, he'd dragged me over to this large rock g and shoved me down onto my knees. So much for that, I thought, bitter, but resigned myself to doing what he wanted anyway. So, I unzipped his fly, and trying not to puke, pulled him out and into my mouth. I wasn't very experienced in the ways of blowjobs, but it didn't seem like my skill level was of much importance. I guess oral sex is oral sex when you're drunk- I wouldn't know.

It wasn't long until he was thrusting into my mouth and I prayed for patience, to bide my time. It was so difficult not to bite his dick off right then and there. The coward deserved it too...he never even let me see his face, that night and in that alley. Oh, but I would recognize that voice anywhere; it haunts me every night, repeating the same words over and over again, like some broken record, except I can't take it off the turn table.

God, what a slut you are...you know what want it, tell me how badly you want this...say it, damnit...say it!

I was weak then. I gave in, crying out through my tears that I needed it, I wanted it, give it to me, give me all you got. Andt here I was, out in the woods, proving to him how much of a slut I really was, that I'm nothing more than some animal. I almost hated him as much as I hate myself.

He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me up to meet his lips, demanding and feverish against my own. A plan forming in my mind, I carefully slid my tongue around the shell of his ear, feeling him shudder, and whispered seductively:

"I'm going to ride you raw."

With a devilish grin and an 'as you wish,' he pulled me down with him to the ground, placing me so I was facing him, straddling his hips. The feeling of him against me made me ill; I just wanted to get this over with, get his hands off me, make sure they would never touch me or anyone else ever again. I was disgusting for letting him do this to me, voluntarily this time and involuntarily the last time. If only I had been strong enough to fight him off, if I'd protested more, if I hadn't gone off by myself to get some air...maybe then I'd be an ordinary nineteen year-old college kid, instead of where I am now. His hands roamed my body, and I had to pretend to like it.

"Mmmm," he whispered huskily as he filled me; I threw my head back, but not in any kind of sexual ecstasy, but to hide my horrified facial expression, so afraid that even in this darkness and his drunkenness, he would see it and realize something wasn't quite right.

"I'm surprised," I gasped, taking his face in my hands and leaned in. "I thought you preferred me unwilling and up against a brick wall."

I'll never forget the look on his face.

When I hurt those other men, I imagined they were him, their looks matching the one he made as I violently smashed his head into the rock behind us, again and again. Feebly, he tried to push me away, but he was too drunk and I too angry. Again and again, I forced skull against stone, watching as it darkened with his blood, the same blood that began to gurgle in his throat as he gasped for air, arms flailing like a raging lunatic. I laughed then, as it trickled down, dripping a route from his lips to his chin, down his throat. I watched the light go out of his eyes, I watched as he breathed for the last time, and for the first time since that night in the alley, I felt something inside me that was good. I felt alive, but only because of he had died.

After I removed myself from him and dressed, I glanced down at his lifeless body. I knew I had to do it again, to make them suffer and I suffered, to make them die as I died. It flipped a switch in my head, like lightning against a blackened sky, and I knew I would do this more than once. I had to. I needed to. I wanted to.

Did the Devil make me do it? I really don't know...and I could really care less.