08-26-2008, 11:37 PM
I got to Nat's apartment, not quite in the same blind rage I'd been in last night, but mad enough to break the door down. I would have, too, if she'd had the chain on like I always told her to.
But she didn't: just the deadbolt, and I still had my key. Stupid girl.
Walking in, I could hear the shower just turning off, so I waited. She came out a few minutes later, wearing a blue t-shirt and bare legs. She stopped short, surprised, and I thought a little scared. I crossed my arms. I always look bigger when I cross my arms.
“Where is it,” I asked.
It took her a second to figure out how to lie. “Where's what?” she asked. Then she tried to get tough. “What are you doing in here?”
I threw the key onto the coffee table. It bounced onto the floor.
“You know damn well what, Nat,” I started to yell, and got right up in her face. I could see her getting a little scared, but trying to hide it. “Everybody knew you had it. Susie saw you throw it. Where is it?”
Suddenly she had some composure.
“Oh, Susie saw me,” she said. “You boinking her, too?”
What? “What's that supposed to mean?”
“Julie, you butthead. That's what it means,” her voice rose, both in pitch and volume. “She left you a message about the great time she had with you last weekend. Last weekend, remember, asshole? When you called me to break up?”
Yeah, you dumb bitch, I broke up with you so I could go out with her. I broke up with you.
Hey, wait a minute…
“You listened to my messages?” I asked.
That's when she started to shove me. “Just get the hell out of here and be thankful I didn't know where your car was, you jerk.”
I grabbed her wrist, angrier than ever. “You little bitch,” I said. “You're gonna pay for that phone.”
And then she punched me.
It wasn't the hardest I'd ever been hit, but it was up there. A solid shot, right across my chin. If I hadn't been holding her other arm, if she'd been able to use her body, she might have knocked me over.
Tough little girl, Natalie is. Likes to fight. Or, she likes to play fight. There's a pretty big difference.
I spun her around and pulled her in, pinning her arms. I squeezed, lifted her off the floor a little. She was trying to head butt me, but she was too low. Couldn't reach my jaw.
“Tough little bitch, right?” I said. I shoved her down to her knees, making sure to keep a tight hold on her at the same time. Then I lowered her all the way to the floor, and by leaning my own body back, I pulled her into a backbreaker.
Just like bending a pencil against a table.
She started to gasp. “Ben, you're hurting me,” she said in this pitiful little voice.
You should've thought of that before, stupid. “You owe me two hundred fifty bucks, bitch,” I said. Then I had an idea. “This is only about a dollar's worth.” I let her fall to the floor, then pinned her with my knee in her back.
“Tell you what,” I said. “Make you a deal.” I grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back – sort of a mini-backbreaker. I got down real close, talked right into her ear.
“I'm gonna teach you a lesson worth about fifty bucks, then you can just come up with the rest.” I pushed her head down – her face hit the carpet – and stood up.
Gotta be careful, here, I warned myself. Don't get her bloody.
I grabbed her by the hair and the shirt and pulled her up – she came to her feet pretty easy, which should have clued me in that she was going to try something. Lucky for me, it wasn't much. She swung wildly, hitting me in the shoulder and leaving herself wide open for me to punch her, hard, in the stomach.
Her feet lifted off the floor a little, and she dropped to her knees. I let her fall but kept hold of her hair.
“Ben,” she said, out of breath. “I can pay…”
Shut up. I grabbed a second handful of hair and yanked her up, then swung her, flinging her onto the coffee table. She hit with her shoulder – that must've hurt – and rolled onto the floor.
No, sweetheart, you're not hiding from me. I dragged her coffee table out of the way and grabbed her again, this time by the head. Sat her on the couch and punched her in the stomach again.
She was trying to fend me off. It was kind of cute, really. She had her arms straight out, pushing and slapping at me, and her knees up, trying to use her feet to push me away. This is what I mean by the difference between play and real. On the sparring mat, this chick knows just what to do. But here she is in a real fight, and she's acting like a school girl.
Stupid.
I was punching her in the stomach, and the side, and sometimes in the chest, whenever I saw an opening. Not great punches – couldn't really get a good one off, what with her arms and legs all over the place. Then she caught me in the chin again with her foot, and enough was enough. I almost hit her in the face, then thought better of it. Grabbed her arm instead, and pushed her onto her side.
Holding one arm, I pinned her other arm with my knee. That also gave me better leverage to hit her again – smack, right in the soft part of her belly. Nice and hard.
She squeaked and pulled her knees up, so I punched her in the chest, instead. Again, hitting her tit, and then punched down onto her ribs. Good shots, but I really wanted to hit her in the belly.
So I got off her to try and pin her legs down. She slid a little: her shoulders were hanging off the couch, her head nearly on the floor, but her legs up in the air. I pinned her hand against her chest, then put my knee across her thighs and leaned on them, pinning her legs down.
This was nice. Her shirt had fallen up, so her belly was exposed. Smooth skin, with just a hint of the muscles underneath. This was going to be fun.
“What are we up to, about five bucks?” I asked her, and then punched her, right on her belly button.
She let out this cute little whoof. So I did it again. And then I punched her again.
This was starting to turn me on.
She was tensing her stomach just before I hit her, so I changed things up a little. Instead of waiting between punches, I just kept hitting her. Punch, punch, punch, punch, punch. Same place. Right below her belly button.
“Let's see how much you can take,” I said. She was keeping her muscles taut, but she couldn't keep it up forever. I hit her again, and again, and again. And again. Bam, bam, bam. Smack, smack, smack. My fist slapping against her skin. Over, and over, and another punch, and another punch.
I must've hit her twenty times like that. Not as hard as I could, but hard. She was getting tired, whimpering, almost starting to cry. So then I let one go – hit her hard. Drove my fist into her, right above the panty line.
She made some kind of strangled noise, and kicked her legs so hard she shook loose from my pin. I let her fall onto the floor. She was convulsing, it looked like. Pulling her legs in, then stretching out, then curling up again. Writhing around on the floor.
“Ben, please,” I heard her say.
“Y'know, I've actually fantasized about this,” I said. “About beating you up. Always wondered what it would be like to beat up a girl.” I reached for her again, picked her up by the hair and the shirt, and dragged her over to the wall. Stood her up against it and pulled her shirt up, so I could punch her on the skin again.
She fought me on that, tried to push her shirt down. So I slapped her on the nose. That'll hurt, even when you're as out of it as she was. I slapped her again, and her arms went up to her head. Then I wrenched her shirt up, hard, over her tits, and punched her in the stomach.
Leaned into it pretty good. She collapsed onto the floor – a little wriggling ball. Mostly naked, now, since her shirt had come off in my hand.
I dropped it, and watched her groan for a minute. Too bad, I thought, all of a sudden. She sure is sexy. Slim. Muscular. Liked to wrestle with me, even though she knew I'd be in control.
But, oh well. I took her by the hair again – awfully considerate of girls to have so much hair for us to grab – and hauled her up.
She was trying to push me with one hand and cover her tits with the other. I slapped her once, then took both her hands and banged them up against the wall, put them together so I could hold both with one of mine. Spent a second admiring her.
“You've got a nice body, Nat,” I said. Then I couldn't resist the dig. “Small tits, though. That's why I went with Jules, you know. She's got great tits.” Nat's always been a little sensitive about that.
Then I took her nipple and twisted it. Hard.
She screamed, and got her hands away from me. I grabbed them again, put them back, and slapped her tit. Same one. Did it again right away when she didn't try to pull away again. Then again. Then I let her hands go and unloaded another punch to her belly.
She woofed with a little strangled squeal at the end of it. Hit the floor again and I figured enough's enough.
“Okay, Nat, I guess that's about fifty bucks,” I said. “You come up with the rest, you hear me?” Something shiny caught my eye – the key. On a whim, I scooped it up on my way out the door.
Sure, she might learn her lesson and start locking the chain. But maybe not. And if she doesn't pay, up, well, I'll pay her another visit.
But she didn't: just the deadbolt, and I still had my key. Stupid girl.
Walking in, I could hear the shower just turning off, so I waited. She came out a few minutes later, wearing a blue t-shirt and bare legs. She stopped short, surprised, and I thought a little scared. I crossed my arms. I always look bigger when I cross my arms.
“Where is it,” I asked.
It took her a second to figure out how to lie. “Where's what?” she asked. Then she tried to get tough. “What are you doing in here?”
I threw the key onto the coffee table. It bounced onto the floor.
“You know damn well what, Nat,” I started to yell, and got right up in her face. I could see her getting a little scared, but trying to hide it. “Everybody knew you had it. Susie saw you throw it. Where is it?”
Suddenly she had some composure.
“Oh, Susie saw me,” she said. “You boinking her, too?”
What? “What's that supposed to mean?”
“Julie, you butthead. That's what it means,” her voice rose, both in pitch and volume. “She left you a message about the great time she had with you last weekend. Last weekend, remember, asshole? When you called me to break up?”
Yeah, you dumb bitch, I broke up with you so I could go out with her. I broke up with you.
Hey, wait a minute…
“You listened to my messages?” I asked.
That's when she started to shove me. “Just get the hell out of here and be thankful I didn't know where your car was, you jerk.”
I grabbed her wrist, angrier than ever. “You little bitch,” I said. “You're gonna pay for that phone.”
And then she punched me.
It wasn't the hardest I'd ever been hit, but it was up there. A solid shot, right across my chin. If I hadn't been holding her other arm, if she'd been able to use her body, she might have knocked me over.
Tough little girl, Natalie is. Likes to fight. Or, she likes to play fight. There's a pretty big difference.
I spun her around and pulled her in, pinning her arms. I squeezed, lifted her off the floor a little. She was trying to head butt me, but she was too low. Couldn't reach my jaw.
“Tough little bitch, right?” I said. I shoved her down to her knees, making sure to keep a tight hold on her at the same time. Then I lowered her all the way to the floor, and by leaning my own body back, I pulled her into a backbreaker.
Just like bending a pencil against a table.
She started to gasp. “Ben, you're hurting me,” she said in this pitiful little voice.
You should've thought of that before, stupid. “You owe me two hundred fifty bucks, bitch,” I said. Then I had an idea. “This is only about a dollar's worth.” I let her fall to the floor, then pinned her with my knee in her back.
“Tell you what,” I said. “Make you a deal.” I grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back – sort of a mini-backbreaker. I got down real close, talked right into her ear.
“I'm gonna teach you a lesson worth about fifty bucks, then you can just come up with the rest.” I pushed her head down – her face hit the carpet – and stood up.
Gotta be careful, here, I warned myself. Don't get her bloody.
I grabbed her by the hair and the shirt and pulled her up – she came to her feet pretty easy, which should have clued me in that she was going to try something. Lucky for me, it wasn't much. She swung wildly, hitting me in the shoulder and leaving herself wide open for me to punch her, hard, in the stomach.
Her feet lifted off the floor a little, and she dropped to her knees. I let her fall but kept hold of her hair.
“Ben,” she said, out of breath. “I can pay…”
Shut up. I grabbed a second handful of hair and yanked her up, then swung her, flinging her onto the coffee table. She hit with her shoulder – that must've hurt – and rolled onto the floor.
No, sweetheart, you're not hiding from me. I dragged her coffee table out of the way and grabbed her again, this time by the head. Sat her on the couch and punched her in the stomach again.
She was trying to fend me off. It was kind of cute, really. She had her arms straight out, pushing and slapping at me, and her knees up, trying to use her feet to push me away. This is what I mean by the difference between play and real. On the sparring mat, this chick knows just what to do. But here she is in a real fight, and she's acting like a school girl.
Stupid.
I was punching her in the stomach, and the side, and sometimes in the chest, whenever I saw an opening. Not great punches – couldn't really get a good one off, what with her arms and legs all over the place. Then she caught me in the chin again with her foot, and enough was enough. I almost hit her in the face, then thought better of it. Grabbed her arm instead, and pushed her onto her side.
Holding one arm, I pinned her other arm with my knee. That also gave me better leverage to hit her again – smack, right in the soft part of her belly. Nice and hard.
She squeaked and pulled her knees up, so I punched her in the chest, instead. Again, hitting her tit, and then punched down onto her ribs. Good shots, but I really wanted to hit her in the belly.
So I got off her to try and pin her legs down. She slid a little: her shoulders were hanging off the couch, her head nearly on the floor, but her legs up in the air. I pinned her hand against her chest, then put my knee across her thighs and leaned on them, pinning her legs down.
This was nice. Her shirt had fallen up, so her belly was exposed. Smooth skin, with just a hint of the muscles underneath. This was going to be fun.
“What are we up to, about five bucks?” I asked her, and then punched her, right on her belly button.
She let out this cute little whoof. So I did it again. And then I punched her again.
This was starting to turn me on.
She was tensing her stomach just before I hit her, so I changed things up a little. Instead of waiting between punches, I just kept hitting her. Punch, punch, punch, punch, punch. Same place. Right below her belly button.
“Let's see how much you can take,” I said. She was keeping her muscles taut, but she couldn't keep it up forever. I hit her again, and again, and again. And again. Bam, bam, bam. Smack, smack, smack. My fist slapping against her skin. Over, and over, and another punch, and another punch.
I must've hit her twenty times like that. Not as hard as I could, but hard. She was getting tired, whimpering, almost starting to cry. So then I let one go – hit her hard. Drove my fist into her, right above the panty line.
She made some kind of strangled noise, and kicked her legs so hard she shook loose from my pin. I let her fall onto the floor. She was convulsing, it looked like. Pulling her legs in, then stretching out, then curling up again. Writhing around on the floor.
“Ben, please,” I heard her say.
“Y'know, I've actually fantasized about this,” I said. “About beating you up. Always wondered what it would be like to beat up a girl.” I reached for her again, picked her up by the hair and the shirt, and dragged her over to the wall. Stood her up against it and pulled her shirt up, so I could punch her on the skin again.
She fought me on that, tried to push her shirt down. So I slapped her on the nose. That'll hurt, even when you're as out of it as she was. I slapped her again, and her arms went up to her head. Then I wrenched her shirt up, hard, over her tits, and punched her in the stomach.
Leaned into it pretty good. She collapsed onto the floor – a little wriggling ball. Mostly naked, now, since her shirt had come off in my hand.
I dropped it, and watched her groan for a minute. Too bad, I thought, all of a sudden. She sure is sexy. Slim. Muscular. Liked to wrestle with me, even though she knew I'd be in control.
But, oh well. I took her by the hair again – awfully considerate of girls to have so much hair for us to grab – and hauled her up.
She was trying to push me with one hand and cover her tits with the other. I slapped her once, then took both her hands and banged them up against the wall, put them together so I could hold both with one of mine. Spent a second admiring her.
“You've got a nice body, Nat,” I said. Then I couldn't resist the dig. “Small tits, though. That's why I went with Jules, you know. She's got great tits.” Nat's always been a little sensitive about that.
Then I took her nipple and twisted it. Hard.
She screamed, and got her hands away from me. I grabbed them again, put them back, and slapped her tit. Same one. Did it again right away when she didn't try to pull away again. Then again. Then I let her hands go and unloaded another punch to her belly.
She woofed with a little strangled squeal at the end of it. Hit the floor again and I figured enough's enough.
“Okay, Nat, I guess that's about fifty bucks,” I said. “You come up with the rest, you hear me?” Something shiny caught my eye – the key. On a whim, I scooped it up on my way out the door.
Sure, she might learn her lesson and start locking the chain. But maybe not. And if she doesn't pay, up, well, I'll pay her another visit.