Breaking the Cycle (20 page)

He peered around the corner.

The lady was bent over a large stack of art paper attempting to free a sheet from the bottom of the heap. Why’ont she jes grab one from de top? Stanley pondered before filling the room with his presence. He swung his mallet of a fist in a perfect uppercut, catching the lady flat in the face, the force of his blow lifting her tiny body backwards and into the air.

She hit the floor and before she could open her mouth to scream, Stanley seized her throat and flung the tiny creature across the small room. Her head slammed into an oversized wooden easel and she crumpled to the ground in a silent heap.

There! She lay quiet in a disheveled pile. Tame and cooperative. Just how he liked them.

And now, Stanley’s large hands stroked the soft hollow of the lady’s throat as he imagined how far he could thrust himself down there. He was willing to bet she could hold a lot more of him than that cock-teasing teenaged niece of Mr. Lambert’s did.

He looked at the lady. It was time for her to wake up and get to working on his small problem that was actually quite large indeed. Stanley bent over her still form and proceeded to awaken her.

Pain exploded in Paris’s left thumb. From a great distance, her brain managed to register the agony and nudge her body into action. Instinctively her thumb sought refuge in her open mouth, but then an identical fire attacked her right thumb.

Paris shrieked, closing both hands into fists, her blazing thumbs tucked inside. It took her a moment to realize what he’d done. To realize that the stranger had used the jagged tips of his own nails to pierce the tender flesh beneath her thumbnails, digging deep enough to draw blood and restore her to consciousness. This was an old trick someone had once told her would work well, if you needed to rouse a wino.

It worked well for her.

Paris’s face felt like a disfigured mask of agony. The slightest movement caused nearly intolerable waves of pain. Stunned, she realized that she’d somehow lost control of her bladder and soaked through her pants.

From the swollen slits of her eyes, her gaze traveled the length of the man sitting before her. He was roughly the size of a well-fed giant.

“You reddy now, Baby?” he asked with a sickening grin. “You gon ack right?”

Act right? Was he crazy?

Using his thick knees as leverage, Paris attempted to push herself away, trying in vain to scoot backwards and away from the half-naked stranger.

“Come back heah, Bitch!” he exploded, snatching his switchblade with one hand and yanking her hair with the other. Paris heard the switchblade click open, its cool metal glinting dangerously in the partial shadows, and she peed again.

Fear paralyzed her. Her breath clawed from her throat in short, harsh pellets as the stranger forced her to kneel between his massive thighs. With the knife blade pressed at her throat, he jammed her face into his foul-smelling groin.

“Pretend lak it’s a Popsicle.” The stranger giggled, slapping his dripping, monstrous erection against Paris’s ear and then guiding it toward her mouth. “A sweet an’ juicy red, white, an’ blue, Bomb Pop!”

Paris closed her eyes. Her stomach clenched and twisted at the smell coming from him. When was the last time this fool had washed his ass?

Stanley repositioned his weapon. The edge of the knife bit against her windpipe and immediately a small band of blood appeared and white-hot pain encircled her neck.

Her back stiffened and her eyes flew open.

As her face loomed closer to the strange man’s dick, waves of acrid bile rose in her throat and threatened to drown her. Paris fought the dizzying sensation, swallowing and gasping around her terror until she feared she’d explode. A fat drop of semen seeped from his dick and Paris found herself engulfed in a boiling rage.

Hell, no! It was Tuesday, goddammit! It was her motherfucking day!

For the first time in her life Paris felt pure hatred.

Hatred that made her much stronger than her ever-present fear.

Her mind began to turn. She stared at the white pearls of pre-cum dripping from the head of his gigantic penis and made herself a vow.

This is gonna be the last motherfucker to ever stick a dick or a knife in my face! Bad enough I have to suck that sorry ass William, but suck this stinking idiot, too?

The lines of distinction between this stranger and her husband grew fuzzy and William’s face seemed to float on the stranger’s body. Paris had to force herself not to jump on him and beat his ass for old and new. She knew she couldn’t whip the stranger in a fistfight, but she could hurt the bastard where it mattered most.

Paris cleared her pounding head and wrapped both hands around the girth of the stranger’s penis, sliding them up and down his shaft. Her skin began to crawl but she willed herself to keep the rhythm going.

“Oooh, yeah, thass right, Baby,” the stranger chanted. “Gone an git yours. Zoom it, lady… zoom it all da way in! C’mon, Baby, lemme see ya’ deep throat it!”

Pumping his hips, the stranger relaxed his grip and propped his knife hand behind his head. Then he lay back and panted, enjoying the feel of her small hands as they pumped around the center of his world. “Yesss,” he moaned. “I done finally found me a bitch who want it jes’ as much as I do!” The stranger licked his lips. “See how nice you kin ack after you git summa the piss knocked outta ya?”

You nasty motherfucker! Paris swallowed back bile but her hands moved up and down like she was churning butter. She forced herself to lower her right hand and slide her fingers under the soft sac of his scrotum. Immediately, she was repulsed by the texture of his skin and had to will herself not to shrink away. Thick keloid scars felt alien under her fingers, and the smell of his unwashed body was nearly enough to cause her to black out again.

But Paris kept working.

The stranger’s hips bucked up and down on the sofa as he pumped up and down with deep strokes. Feeling backward toward his asshole, Paris—her thumbs, nose and lips, and neck still throbbing with red-hot pain—rubbed near his prostrate gland, causing ripples of excitement to shoot through his body.

“Ahhh, yesssss,” he groaned as his hips began moving in wide circles. “Take it in ya’ mouf, Lady! In ya’ fuckin’ mouf!”

Deliberately, Paris grasped both of his testicles firmly in each of her hands and lowered her splayed lips toward his throbbing organ. Her teeth suddenly felt like vampire fangs, anxious for blood. As the stranger whimpered his way to an orgasm, Paris slid his huge dick partway into her mouth, and counting to three, simultaneously squeezed his nuts for all she was worth and bit down with all of her might.

A roar tore from the stranger’s throat. His powerful muscles locked and froze; trapping him between intense pleasure and intense pain. The switchblade fell from his grasp and clanked heavily to the floor behind the couch.

Balanced on her knees, Paris’s jaw trembled and her fists were clenched in a deadly vice grip. The stranger sucked in air and a low moan blew from him. Disgusted, Paris spit out his now deflated dick, which incredibly was at least seven inches long soft, and kept her grip on his balls.

“Oooh, motherfuckah!” she cried. “The tables have turned! Now, who-the-fuck-is-zoomin’ who?”

“Lady… please,” the stranger whined in a voice too tiny for such a big man. “Please, ya’ hurtin’ me, Lady.”

The stranger quivered and tried to lower his hands, but Paris moved quickly, squeezing even harder, digging her manicured nails deeply into his flesh, piercing his tough scrotal skin and releasing dark red blood.

Sharp grinding noises escaped the stranger’s throat.

“If you bring your arms down one fuckin’ inch,” Paris warned, “just one fuckin’ inch, everything inside these two little sacks of shit is gonna spill out on the floor!” She twisted hard again for emphasis, satisfied when the stranger yelped like a little bitch.

Paris rose to a crouched position before commanding him to stand. “Get up slow, motherfucker. Real slow and easy because if you so much as breathe too hard, I’ll tear your fucking nuts off and make your stink ass swallow them!”

Gagging and fighting back the urge to hurl, the stranger untangled his feet from his underwear and, with his arms outstretched to the heavens, he came to a shaky, hunch-backed stand.

“Ladeeee, please,” he squealed. “Ya’ hurtin’ me bad, Lady… please, I feel lak I’ma faint—”

“Shut the fuck up and move!” Paris backed toward the basement stairs, forcing the towering man to take one small step forward to each of her full strides backwards. They ascended the stairs in this manner, with Paris twisting his nuts and cursing all the way. At the top of the stairs she paused and touched her tongue to her teeth. At least two in the front felt loose, and fresh blood had begun to seep from her nose.

“You low-down motherfucker!” she spat.

“Please, I-I was jes gonna make you feel good,” the stranger stammered. His breath was constricted high in his chest and he’d broken into a cold sweat.

Make me feel good? Paris looked sharply at the stranger and sudden realization hit her like a brick. This fool was retarded!

“Asshole, if you think your donkey dick could ever make me feel good, not only are you a retard—your motherfuckin’ bread ain’t done!”

She yanked him over to the window by her desk.

“Lady, let me out,” he gasped. “Jes let me leave and I swear ’fore God, I’ll nevah do nuthin l-l-like dis again. D-d-dis-heah is my firs’ time. My onliest time. I ain’t nevah done nuttin’ so fool as dis befo’ an’ I swear on my dead mama, I’ll nevah do it again!”

“You’s a goddamned liar!” Paris crushed his scrotum again. “You’ve done this shit before because somebody done already poured lye down your drawers!”

“Aaaah! Aaagghhhhhh!” the stranger screamed. “Dammit, Lady! Please lemme go… jes’ let me leave outta heah alive!”

“Go, then,” said Paris, suddenly calm. “You wanna leave? Then go.”

She saw hope surging through his brain but didn’t loosen her grip.

“How I’ma go?” he whimpered. “Ya’ gotta loose me! Loose me now, lady, fo’ the love of God, loose me! Else how I’ma git out?”

“Break out, motherfucker! You broke in, didn’t you?”

“Yo’ door was settin’ wide open, dammit! I din force mahsef in here on you!”

“I didn’t invite you in, either,” Paris spat, yanking his nuts in opposite directions and wringing them left and right.

“Then call the po-leece, Lady,” he whimpered and stomped his feet.

“Let’s jes call the po-leece an’ I turn mahself in!”

Paris thought for a moment. This motherfucker had made every woman’s greatest fear her painful reality. He had violated her home and her body. But he’d also done something else. He’d given her something that had been lacking in her life during the last ten years with William. He’d given her courage.

“Okay,” she said. “But you’re gonna call them. If you can break in my house by yourself, and stick your nasty dick in my face all by yourself, you can call the police by yourself. Now,” Paris explained slowly and carefully as if he were a child. “If you think I won’t fuck,” she jerked his left testicle upward, “you,” she yanked the right nut downward, “up…” his balls split east and west, “then you need to call an ambulance before you call the cops!

“Walk over to the telephone,” she commanded, pulling him over to the speakerphone on top of her desk. “Now press that red button that says, ‘speaker’ and dial 9-1-1.”

Following her instructions, the stranger waited until a voice flooded the room from the small speaker.

“9-1-1 emergency, Sergeant Glascow, how may I help you?”

“Sh—sh—she got me by da’ balls, Man,” the stranger cried. “My name S-s-stanley and she got me by da’ balls!”

“Yeah, Man,” the dispatcher replied, “that’s what happens when you marry ’em and give ’em your checkbook, but this number is for emergencies only.”

“Nah, Man, nah, she really hurtin’ me bad, she hurtin’ my balls, really, really bad!”

“Could you repeat that?” the dispatcher asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Is someone there hurting you, Sir?”

“You’re goddamn right, I’m hurting him, and I’ll kill his black ass, too!” Paris yelled.

Quickly she explained that she’d captured an intruder and gave the policeman her name and address. Then she made Stanley press the red button to end the call. Although her hands were sore and tired and her fingers were sticky with the stranger’s blood, Paris felt like she could have held on to him for at least another month.

At least.

“I gotta wee,” the stranger moaned.

“What?”

“I gotta take a piss, lady. Real bad.”

“Well, hold it till the cops get here, and then you can christen your new jail cell.”

“I cain’t hol’ it, Lady! I swear fo’ God, it’s comin’ out!”

“Dammit! Walk over to that front door and don’t try nothing cute because it’s your dick and your balls.” She yanked him over to the door and instructed Stanley to open the door a small crack and aim his dick toward the porch. For a split second the stranger’s body obscured Paris’s view. For just an instant her attention wavered.

And that was all it took.

Stanley swung the door toward her with all of his might, catching Paris off balance and off guard. The edge of the door slammed into her face, whipping her around, and Paris howled and grabbed at her broken nose. Stanley moved like white on rice. Leaping onto her front porch he hurled himself over the side rail and, barefooted and bare-assed, took off bounding toward Jerome Avenue.