Chapter 3
Johnny and I spent the next few weeks getting to know one another. I didn’t speak to a single person in that time other than him, and I didn’t even know if anyone else in the world knew that I was there, which was fine with me. I spent my days cleaning the apartment, teaching myself to cook and making myself sexy for Johnny. I never wore clothes anymore, the one time since moving in with him that I put clothes on, as soon as he got home he flew into a rage making it very clear that I would neve wear anything without his instruction. That was the first time he beat me savagely and when I learned one of the most important lessons of your relationship. Johnny had such dark desires that they scared even him. I already knew that Johnny wasn’t training me to be a street whore, I knew before he did that he wanted me for his own, that he was training me to be his whore. A little over a month after he took me in, he came home and I was standing next to the candlelit dinner table dressed in the only dress I had, a soft blue wrap dress,the last thing Uncle Dan had bought me. My long hair was piled on top of my head and I was wearing my mother’s pearls, trying so hard to look like a woman, instead of the skinny girl I still was.
I watched as he stood there looking at me, his eyes traveling from my head to my skinny bare feet. He was so quiet, and I knew that he was angry, but it was the quick violence that I was getting used to, this was a simmering scary Johnny standing in front of me, his lip curled in disgust and his fists clenching. He looked up at me through the hair that was always falling into his eyes and as our eyes met, I gasped and took a step backward. He walked slowly toward me, or rather stalked, quietly, menacingly coming at me. He roared as he reached me and I cried out at the sound of my dress ripping. He wrapped his hand in the pearls, twisting until they crushed against my throat.
“Who do you think you are?” he stammered through clenched teeth, “my fucking girlfriend, my wife?” His voice got louder and louder as he squeezed. “You are nothing. You will never be anything but a fuck hole.” He pushed and pulled me down onto the table spilling food and wine. He used me like a rag wiping me across the table and I screamed when the candle fell over onto my stomach, the wax splashing up across my chest and the flame burning a red welt onto me before stuttering out. Laying on my back on the table I looked up at him with tears welling in my eyes and the blood drained from my face when I saw the wild, burning look in his eyes and screamed again as his fist landed against my cheekbone. He punched me again and again, in the face, neck and chest and I groaned and thrashed as his hard knuckles pressed deeply into my soft skin.
He reached down and spreading my legs roughly, began to punch between my legs, “Stupid fucking hole,” he muttered as his fist slammed into the tender skin of my lips rhythmically, “just a hole, just a hole, just a hole.” I was crying and begging incoherently, opening my legs as far as I could for his brutal punishment. He looked down on me lying on the table in the tattered remains of my dress and my mother’s pearls and laughed cruelly as my desire betrayed me and hot creamy juice covered his knuckles and my thighs, allowing his fist to enter me and go deeper each time he slammed it against me. He was fascinated by my sick desire and quickly freed his raging hard on from his jeans and pushed into my bruised aching pussy. I groaned and wrapped my legs around him, coming against his throbbing shaft.
He felt my pussy clench around him and groaned loudly, lowering his face to my neck he bit deeply, drawing blood and again I screamed as his hot seed filled me. I knew in that moment that he loved me, that he was mine and always would be. He was terrified of any feelings other than anger and rage and his greatest need was to own and control me. Pulling me from the table he threw me to the floor, panting above me, his cock still raging hard and dripping. I could feel my face swelling, I could barely see from my right eye and everything I could see from that eye was tinged in red. We stared at each other, chests heaving, both of us surprised and sated. He reached down for me and I took his hand. Johnny led me into the bathroom and washed my the blood from my face and neck.
After cleaning me up he led me out to the dining room and watched as I cleaned up the mess we had made. Following me from the dining room to the kitchen, every now and then he would come up behind me, put his arms around me and press the quickly coloring bruises on my arms, chest, neck and stomach with his thick callused fingers. Pushing his finger into my brutalized pussy, which was swollen and deeply bruised. He kept kissing me deeply, pressing his lips firmly against my bruised and swollen mouth, licking my swollen cheekbone, pressing his tongue and lips against every bruise and cut on my face. As I cleaned and watched him watch me, felt his strange form of gentleness and fascination with the injuries he had inflicted ,I felt more power than I had ever felt in my life.
When the cleaning was finished he led me into the living room and sat on the couch pulling me down beside him he continued to explore my injuries. Pushing me back and spreading my legs he lifted one, putting it behind his neck so that I was open and exposed to his perusal. He pinched my painfully swollen lips in his fingers and pressed and rubbed my inner thighs, which also were showing the beginnings of welts and bruises from his earlier attack. I lay there in ecstasy as his hands pressed into my aching flesh, watching his face. I felt his thumb run across an old scar and the puzzled look on his face as he ran his thumb back over it again. Lifting the shade on the lamp he positioned me so that he could see and feel the scar.
“What is this scar from, Sarah?”
I turned my head into the couch and muttered, “a knife.”
He was silent for so long that I looked at him again, and was taken aback by the look of raw lust on his face as he traced the scar over and over. Looking down I saw that he was hard again, and he reached into his lap and squeezed his cock hard, making the head a throbbing purplish red. “Someone cut you, Sarah?” He asked in a quiet voice. “Tell me.”
I took a deep breath and tried to sit up, but Johnny held me there and pressed his thumb into the scar while I talked.
“Uncle Dan liked to play games, especially when Aunt Karen was there. At dinner, many times he would slide something across the table to me, like a spoon, or the salt shaker, and I would have to take it off the table without Aunt Karen seeing, and push it inside myself. After dinner was finished and Aunt Karen left the table Uncle Dan would pull my chair out from the table and make me show him that I had done as he asked. By the time I was 13, this was a familiar game, but on Thanksgiving Uncle Dan had been drinking, Aunt Karen had invited her friend to dinner and the whole day was a fiasco with her flaunting her lesbian lover in his face and him getting angrier and drunker. At dinner we all sat down and as usual I was dressed in all that Uncle Dan allowed me to wear, a cotton dress with nothing underneath. While we ate Uncle Dan had pushed the carving knife toward me across the table. I kept glancing at him, thinking he wasn’t serious, but when Aunt Karen and her friend went into the kitchen to bring in the deserts, Uncle Dan leaned across the table and whispered “either you push the handle of this into that nasty little pussy or I will use the other end to slice your filthy hole into ribbons.” With tears in my eyes I quickly grabbed the knife and pulled it under the table cloth as Aunt Karen and Lisa came back into the room with the deserts.
As Aunt Karen absently put some pie on my plate I pushed the cold black handle of the knife between my lips, squirming in the seat as I struggled to get it inside me. Aunt Karen glared at me and told me to be still and act my age. Uncle Dan just leaned back in his chair and watched me, drinking and smirking. “Oh let the girl wiggle, Karen,” he slurred at her. Finally Aunt Karen and Lisa finished their desert and went into the liviing room, and Uncle Dan came over and pulled out my chair, lifting my skirt he looked down at my lap, the knife handle was pushed up inside me and the carving blade was between my thighs. Uncle Dan reached down and took hold of the top of the blade and twisted, rocking the handle back and forth. He was getting very aroused and began to thrust the knife handle and twist it until the edge of the knife nicked my thigh.
Blood quickly surface and beaded on my thigh. Uncle Dan pulled the knife away and dropped to his knees in front of me and lapped at the blood on my leg. He was in a frenzy, moaning and sucking at the cut, his fingers gripping my thighs. I was begging him to stop in a frantic whisper, telling him Aunt Karen was going to see, but he was so drunk and the blood was making him crazy. He stood and pulled me to my feet. “Upstairs, now.” I ran up the stairs and he followed me, pushing me into my room and onto my bed he quickly got his pants down and began to rub his cock against the stinging cut. Pressing down to increase the droplets of blood and slathering his dick in bright red blood and then for the first time ever, he pushed his bloodied cock into my pussy.”
I was lost in the memory of that night and was surprised when I felt Johnny ejaculate over my thigh. As my mind and eyes came back into focus I watched as his hand squeezed the last drop of hot come out of his bulging head. I just lay there quietly until he opened his eyes and patted my thigh. “I would love to meet your uncle, Sarah, he trained you beautifully.” Luckily Johnny was always more interested in himself more than anyone else so he didn’t notice the flicker of fear in my eyes. I didn’t say anything, just smiled at him and ran my fingers through the quickly cooling stickiness on my thigh and then brought my hand slowly to my mouth, staring into his eyes as I eagerly licked and sucked at my fingers, cleaning his salty come off of them. “You are the nastiest little thing I’ve ever met.” He laughed and pushed me off him, both of us running and laughing to the shower together.
That was the first night I slept in his bed, next to him. That was the first time in my life I had slept next to anyone. I was glad that the story was interrupted when it was, I wasn’t ready yet for Johnny to know everything, to know that Aunt Karen caught us that night and made the next year and a half of my life a living hell. It didn’t matter now anyway, Johnny loved me now. I woke early, watching him sleep, loving him more than life itself. I would be anything Johnny wanted, I would do anything to keep his love. I was sure that this time, I would be loved forever, that Johnny would never try get tired of me like the others did. I leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips and whispered, “I love you Johnny.”