I broke free and uttered the forbidden words; "Please!" and "No," and somehow found myself curled up on the bed crying, "Why? Why? Why?"
Why? Because that's what he wanted to do to me. He wanted to hurt me this way. Why? Because I wanted him to. I didn't want him to relent, to back down. My body fought it; my mind struggled to overcome my body's resistance.
"All right, dear," he finally said, oh, so patiently. "I need you to get back into position. Up on your knees. Head down. Spread your knees further apart. Good girl. You have a few more strokes coming, and you're going to have to take them."
("Why?") Yet I obeyed. I spread my legs as I pushed my face into the bedspread. I could not guarantee that I could keep quiet. He struck. A nanosecond later I cried out. The pain shot through me and I shook as I accepted it.
Sometimes the pain is a flash of hot yellow light. Today it was sparkling gold glitter, like stars against a black sky. My fear collided with my desire, and as he struck again I could not tell which was stronger. I wanted him to overcome me, take me down, break me.
It was only a matter of minutes. He struck again...