Bad Girls Don't Cry

Chapter 12

We left the bar shortly after, completely wrapped up in each other's arms with our fingers intertwined. I felt a connection to him I had been missing and had been craving for far too long. Colin, in his drunken state, invited Ben to come over to his place after the bar. I made sure he thought it was a good idea and he insisted. So, of course, who was I to disagree? We hopped in a cab and drove the 30 minutes back to his place in the suburbs. Colin was passed out in the front seat, and we were driving another friend of his home who lived nearby. I was sitting in the corner of the cab, pushed up against the door with Ben's arm around me. He was engaging in conversation with the guy sitting next to him, while he slowly tightened his grip around me. I wanted to whimper but I couldn't make a sound in front of the other people. We had to leave the other passengers oblivious to The Game. That was half the fun: doing wonderfully terrible things in plain sight where no one knew what we were up to.

We arrived to Colin's front door and woke him up in the passenger's seat. We paid the driver and walked into the house. Mia was away for a game night at her friend's place and wouldn't be back until the next afternoon. Colin barely managed two words before he went into his bedroom and passed out hard for the night. The other guy, whose name I could never remember, joined Ben and I in the garden to share a smoke, but he started getting uncomfortable when Ben grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap so he took off shortly after. We were finally alone.

My heartbeat started to climb again. Without warning, he grabbed a fistful of my hair, got up from the patio chair and started dragging me to the door to force me inside. I whimpered at the forceful grab and he stooped low to my ear level and whispered, "Shhh. Be a good girl now, don't make me upset."

I didn't fight him as I once would have. To be honest, I didn't want to try to get away from him. I wanted to ease him into The Game without fighting too hard. I didn't want to scare him off, which I thought was a possibility seeing as how he was so new to my world and such a nice guy. He marched me like that by my hair into the living room where my fancy, blow-up mattress laid on the floor. He pushed me inside forcefully and I tumbled onto the bed. He slowly closed the door and walked over to me as I sat up, slightly sprawled out, waiting for his next move. Before I knew what was happening, he had grabbed another fistful of my hair and slapped my face. It wasn't very hard, and I wanted him to go harder. I coaxed him; looking him dead in the eyes with so much longing, I said:

"You hit like a bitch." He laughed, genuinely and maybe slightly embarrassed. And then he closed in on me with a glimmer in his eyes that made me stop smiling immediately. He grabbed my hair tighter, and went to slap me again but I ducked out of the way.

"Hey," he whined out of reflex.

"What, did you think it would be so easy? You have to catch me off guard or I'll block you. I'm not some prissy girl who will just take it." I paused. "Am I too much work for you?" I mused. I wasn't sure if he could handle me, but I didn't want to settle for less than what I wanted.

He grabbed my wrists in his left hand and raised them easily above my head. His right hand grabbed my throat. I tried drawing in breath but he was holding me too tight. The fear of his grip was intoxicatingly sweet.

"Did I tell you how much I love choking little bitches?" he asked rhetorically as he slowly climbed onto the mattress, which made rubbery noises as it slid a bit along the wooden floorboards. He climbed up behind me and wrapped his big arm around my neck from behind. He was so strong; I swam in the sensations of the glorious takeover. This gorgeous man was controlling me and it was splendid. I gasped for air and he laughed sinisterly at my fragility. He was really enjoying taking charge of me; it was quite apparent. He was like a kid on Christmas, unwrapping his present.