Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. ï>¿Forced by BondiLisa Forced to have sex with my boyfriend during a fight. Chapter One -Against My Will It was happening again. We were fighting, I don't even know why, did I do something wrong, did he? All that I knew for sure was that at the moment I hated him, absolutely, everything about him, and the look in his eyes said he hated me as well. I screamed at him, "You're a manipulative fucking prick!" He screamed back, "You're a two faced lying bitch!" We were both in an uncontrollable rage now, I spat at him. He wiped it off, and as he did so something changed in his eyes, it scared me. He'd never hit me before, but I thought that he might now. I could see that some line had been crossed, some threshold broken; now he was truly in an uncontrollable rage. He stepped towards me, I stepped back. My anger forgotten for the moment, replaced by fear, I was sure he was going to hit me now. Even when I'd hit him in the past, he'd never hit me back, he thought it was cute, I couldn't hurt him, no matter how hard I hit him, and it had always infuriated me. Maybe I had let my anger push us too far this time. He reached for me; I stepped back again, and felt the wall at my back. I had no where left to move now. His hands closed around my arms, I struggled to shake him off, and got my right arm free. I pushed him away from me, losing my balance. He reached for me again, and pushed me into the wall, cracking my head with a loud bang. I shrieked in pain, I pushed him again, and he went for me again. I tried to fend him off, but couldn't, while I was still free I slapped him across the face with all of my strength, his head rocked, but he paid it no attention. He used his free hand to pull me against his body, holding me in a grip I couldn't break. My free arm was trapped between us, but I don't think I would have hit him again, even if I could. There was a huge red hand print on his face, and when he licked his lips I could see blood. I'd hurt him this time, finally. He picked me up then and carried me down the hallway. I struggled in his arms, but it was futile, he was too strong, holding me too tightly. He took me into the bedroom and threw me on the bed. I landed on my side, with my legs akimbo, and my skirt around my hips. He closed the door behind him and stood in front of it. He lifted his top off over his head and started undoing his pants. He pushed his pants down, revealing a huge erection. I thought to myself, "What the hell is he turned on about?" "What are you doing?" I asked. "Having sex with you," he answered. I snorted. "I can't stand the sight of you, you fuckwit," I said. "Why would I want to you to touch me? The thought of fucking you makes me sick." He took his underwear off and his cock sprang straight up in the air. He smiled at me. He was enjoying this, he didn't even seem angry any more. "You're a fucking deviant," I said. "Does it turn you on to throw me around?" "Yes," he answered, as he stepped towards the bed. "You sick cunt." I said, "You got hard when I spat on you, when you I hit you. You like it. You make me sick." "Yes, you fucking bitch, you turn me on. All of your fucking moods turn me on. You treat me like shit and I get excited, you hit me and I get excited. Now I'm going to fuck you while you hate me, and that makes me excited too." He reached the bed and grabbed my legs. As much as I kicked I couldn't break his grip, and he held both of my ankles against his body with his arm. With the other arm he grabbed my g-string and pulled it down to my thighs, down to my calves, and releasing my ankles he pulled it all the way off. My skirt was still around my hips and I was exposed to him. I felt vulnerable and desperate, I was terrified. I tried to push my skirt down, to cover myself, but when I did he grabbed me by the wrists. He lifted my hands over my head with one hand, with his other he roughly pulled my top up over my head. He left it over my face and pushed me back on the bed. I felt his hand on my breast, squeezing it, hard, rough. It hurt and I let out a little cry, it didn't stop him, he just squeezed harder. I was trapped in my top, with one of his hands holding both of mine above my head. He put one of his knees between my thighs, forcing his leg between mine, and then using it to push one of my legs outward. He put his other knee between my legs, and used it to push my other leg in the other direction. I was under him and he had my legs spread, ready for him to enter me. He put his hand on my pussy, roughly parting my labia. "You fucking slut," he said. "You're sweet little cunt is soaked, you want this as badly as I do." It was true, I did. I hated him, I loved him, I wanted him to fuck me, I wanted him to fuck off. I didn't know what I wanted, but my body did. My body wanted him inside me, I was spread, and I was wet. I was still scared, I was still furious, if he gave me the chance I would hit him again as hard as I could. I felt him position the head of his cock at my opening. He pushed the head in gently, which warmed me, relaxed me, maybe he would make love to me sweetly after all. I cried out in agony as I felt a terrible ripping pain in my vagina as he violently shoved his entire length into me in one thrust. He knows I'm too small for that, that he needs to ease in to me, he wanted to hurt me. I renewed my struggles to throw him off, I managed to free my arms and I pulled my top all of the way off, freeing my head. Now my hands were free I tried to push him off me, but I couldn't. I spat in his face, he spat in mine. "You fucking bitch," he said to me. He moved his face toward me, to kiss me. I jerked my head away from him. He used one hand to hold my head still, and he kissed me. He forced his tongue into my mouth, as he did so he pulled out of me and thrust in again, sending shooting pain through my vagina again. He was raping my mouth with his tongue just as he was raping my pussy with his cock. He pulled out and thrust into me again, it hurt less this time, as my juices lubricated us. The only justice was that I knew it hurt him to thrust in to me like that almost as much as it hurt me. The pain must have been too much for him, because he stopped the violent thrusts, and pulled almost all of the way out of me. He moved his mouth to my ears, nibbling my ear lobe. He knew this always got me wet, I was glad he wasn't enjoying it. "You fucking idiot," I said. "That won't work. You can't make me wet, I hate you, I hate what you're doing." No matter what I said, I was wet and getting wetter. I loved this man, even if I hated him at the moment, my passion was up, even if it was anger, and I was enjoying being fucked roughly. I slapped his face again, as hard as I could, but I couldn't get any leverage from under him. His only reaction was to force his tongue in to my mouth again, as he forced his cock deeper in to me. He must have been able to tell I was lying, that I was wet, because he slid into me with no friction at all this time. I hit him again, and this time he took both of my hands in one of his and held them above my head. He was thrusting into me hard and fast now, pulling almost all of the way out of me on each stroke, driving deep inside me. It still hurt each time he thrust into me, because of the way he entered me at the beginning, but it also felt fantastic. I spat on his face again, and he wiped his face against mine, we each had spit all over our faces. He forced his tongue into my mouth again, but this time I didn't try to stop him. His constant thrusting was moving me steadily to orgasm, and I was grunting each time he drove his shaft in to me. Sometimes I would grunt in pain, but mostly it was pleasure now, and even the pain almost felt good. "You're going to cum aren't you, you fucking slut?" he said to me. "You're enjoying this aren't you?" When I didn't say anything, he said, "Tell me you are enjoying this you bitch!" "I am," I said. "I'm fucking cumming you cunt." He relaxed his grip on me and I slapped him again. He didn't even break his rhythm, and hitting him intensified my orgasm, so I hit him again. And again. He didn't do a thing to stop me, so I kept hitting him and he grunted each time, but not in pain. "You sick fuck," I said. "You like it when I hit you." He nodded and smiled, revealing his teeth, which were red with blood. It excited me that I had made him bleed and I kept on cumming. He pulled out of me and straddled my chest. He grabbed one of my hands and held it in his and used my hand to wank his shaft. "No fucking way," I said. "I don't want your cum on my face." I tried to move my face out of the way, but he held it with his other hand. He started to shoot, and the first shot landed on my mouth and dribbled down my cheek. I managed to get my hand in the way of his next shot, and it bounced off my hand and onto my neck. His next shots passed my hand, landing on my forehead and in my hair, and finally he was done. He reached out to the bedside table for his mobile phone and took photos of my face with cum and spit and blood over it. I was too exhausted to struggle now, and I let him take whatever photos he wanted. Once he had what he wanted he lay down beside me, and I moved next to him, putting my head on his shoulder. I heard him whisper, "I love you, you bitch." Chapter Two - Moving Out I couldn't believe that it was really happening. We'd broken up and he was moving out. We'd been fighting the whole morning while the removalists took his stuff down to the truck. I shouldn't have been here for this, it was too sad; too much emotion for both of us, and it came out as a fight, as a screaming match. The morning had started wonderfully. We'd made love when we woke up, as if it was any other day, a day when we were happy together. It was tender and intense, I cried when I came, knowing this would be the last time we would ever do this together. After that, everything was a mess. But it was almost over now; the removalists were gone, on their way to his new place. In a few minutes he would be gone as well; he had just one more load to take down to his car. Then I would have a bath and try to relax, try to stop crying, try to stop my insides from feeling like they were about to fall out. I heard the front door open, I rushed to the door, to say goodbye for the last time. "Goodbye gorgeous," I said, tears streaming down my face. Between sobs, I managed to say, "I love you, I always will." "Right," he said. "Just not enough, never enough. I wish I knew what it is that you want." "Don't make it my fault again," I begged. He was looking for a fight still, I wished he could leave our last goodbye to be a sad thing; I didn't want to stand at the door and have another fight. He let go of the door and it closed behind him, he grabbed me and pulled me to him. He kissed me; it was hard and aggressive, reflecting his mood. It felt all wrong; it should be soft and tender, not angry, not aggressive. I pushed him away from me, hitting him on the chest repeatedly. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked. "Nothing," I said. "Nothing that won't be fixed once you're out that door." "Kiss me goodbye and I'm gone," he said, as he grabbed me again. I let him kiss me, I wanted to be kissed. I liked him holding me forcefully, I felt safer than I ever had in my life whenever he held me, but I wanted to be kissed tenderly. I wanted our last moments to be, well not happy, but I wanted them to be anything but angry. I struggled out of his arms again and pushed him away from me as hard as I could. "You bitch," he said. "You've always been a bitch, what the fuck did I ever see in you? You're a selfish, self centred, calculating fucking bitch!" He knew just how to press my buttons, here I was, falling apart trying to say goodbye, and he was abusing me again. I couldn't stand it, it set my temper off, and I wanted to strangle him. I pushed him, and yelled, "Get out, get the fuck out of my life you cunt. You're still doing it, still twisting everything." "I'm not doing anything, it's you," he shot back. "It's always been you, no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, it's never been good enough for you, it never will be, it never could be. You're fucked in the head." I couldn't stand it. "Fucking dickhead," I called him, as I started punching him in the shoulders and chest. "I won't let you hit me anymore," he said, as he grabbed my hands. "You're a pitiful excuse for a man, you fucking like it when I hit you!" I screamed. He pulled me to him again, and tried to kiss me. I jerked my head away from his mouth, but he bit my neck, and when I turned my head back to prevent it, he kissed me, holding my head so I couldn't get away. I struggled, but it was no use he was too strong. He pushed me up against the wall with his body, pressing his body against me, holding me tight. I couldn't push him off, I couldn't fight back. He put an arm around me, with his hand on my arse. The last thing I wanted was to be felt up, but this was worse, he pulled me against him, so our crotches were pressed together. I could feel his erection pressing against me. I managed to break my head from his grip, and I said, "You're sick. Fuck off and leave me alone. I never want to see you again." "It's not over darling. We'll never be over," he said. He slid his hand down my pants at the back, feeling my arse, pushing a finger into my arsehole. I struggled to push him off, but I wasn't strong enough, and my struggles just seemed to make it possible for him to work his finger further into my arse hole. "No knickers," he said. "I love that you're such a slut. It turns me on that you are always ready. I want you one last time." "No! Just go away," I said. He went to kiss me then, but I moved my face away from him. He twisted my head to face him again, and kissed me, forcing his tongue in to my mouth. He lifted me off my feet then, the finger in my arse pushing further in to me, hurting me. I cried out from the pain. "Please don't. Please just go," I begged. "Just one more time gorgeous, I'm sure you're ready. I've never known your slutty little cunt to be dry." "I just want you to leave," I said. We got to the bedroom, and he removed his finger from my arse and threw me on the bed. I was crying, I didn't want to have sex with him, not like this, not now, but I knew I couldn't stop him. He unbuttoned my pants; I didn't have the will to try to stop him. He lifted my legs in the air and pulled my pants down, as he did so I kicked him in the face. He threw me sideways, on to my stomach, straddling me, he grabbed me by the hair, and pushed my face into the bed. I could feel his anger as his hot breath hit my ear, he said, "I told you not to hit me anymore, that's the last time you'll hit me, ever." I tried to yell at him, to tell him to fuck off, but my face was pressed in to the bed, and it came out only as a muffled groan. He got off me then, and I lay on my stomach and cried. I didn't even have resolve enough to close my legs, to make even that token effort to show my unwillingness. I felt him get back on the bed. He lifted me and removed my top. I didn't resist, I just lay limp, and sobbed. "Roll over," he said. "No," I replied, but it was muffled by the bed, and I doubt he heard me. "Roll over," he said again. "Unless you want it in the arse." I didn't want it anywhere. His attitude infuriated me, he was about to rape me, again, and he expected me to help, to make myself available to him, and he talked about where I wanted it. I rolled over and said, "You're a fucking animal. I don't want it from you, you're about to fucking rape me you fucking prick." He moved my legs apart, I tried to kick him, but he caught my feet, and pinned them down. "You want it, you know you do sweetheart," he said. "I'll bet you're wet." He put his hand on my vagina, opening my labia, feeling me. I wasn't wet, I didn't want it. "That's a first," he said. He got off the bed, and took the lubricant out of the drawer. He rubbed it all over his dick. He came back to the bed, pushed my legs apart, and lay over me. There was blood coming from his nose where I kicked him. He positioned himself between my legs, he was about to enter me. I couldn't stop crying, I had to do something, so I hit him in the face. I wanted to hit him on the nose again, it had to be painful, it was bleeding. I missed though, and punched him in the eye. "You stupid fucking bitch," he screamed. "I told you not to hit me again!" He slapped me across the face so hard it rocked my head and left my ear ringing. I could taste blood in my mouth, and I spat at him, hitting him in the face. My spit was red with blood. "A big man you are, so tough," I said. He just smiled at me. With one hand he positioned his dick against my opening. He pushed in to me, even though I wasn't wet, he entered me without too much difficulty thanks to the lubricant. He laughed as he said, "You like it rough don't you?" "No," I said. "How could I like this, being beaten, being raped?" "You're wet now, now that we've hit each other," he said. "That's a lie," I said, even as I realised it wasn't. That the reason he had slid into me so easily was that I was turned on, that I was wet, that my pussy was open and ready. "Fuck you," I said, and I slapped him across the face as hard as I could. "That's it, hit me you bitch," he screamed at me as he spat on me. God, he wanted me to hit him. He made me completely helpless by asking me to hit him. I hated him, and I wanted this to stop. But it felt better and better with every pounding thrust. I was enjoying it, and I hated myself for it. I slapped him again. I hit him so hard it hurt my hand. I didn't care though, I wanted to hurt him, and I knew that if it hurt my hand it must hurt him even more. Even if he enjoyed it, he would hurt later if I could hit him hard enough, he wouldn't enjoy that. He was thrusting into me faster now, harder. He was building to climax, I knew the signs. I could feel my own climax building. I felt so strange, my mouth was bleeding, I was being raped, I was crying, but I was about to cum. I was overcome with guilt and shame, which led to rage, and I hit him again. This time he hit me back, on the other side of my face, the pain was intense, it coincided with my orgasm, cutting it off. Then he hit me again, on the same side of my face again, causing that ear to ring as well, it seemed to release my orgasm, and I came, moaning, arching my back off the bed. "Such a slut," he said. "You're cumming while I rape you." He pulled out of me then, and straddled my chest, with his legs pinning my arms. He was going to cum on my face again, like the last time he did this to me. I turned my face to the side; I tried to hide under the pillows. It was no use; with one hand he grabbed me by the jaw, the other hand was stroking his dick. He forced my mouth open with his fingers, and aimed his cock at my mouth. I could taste the finger he'd had in my arse, coppery. I tried to bite his fingers, but I couldn't, somehow he had my mouth wedged open. He groaned as he came, I felt his cum shoot into my mouth, I tasted it, the saltiness, felt the thick fluid on my tongue. His next shot hit me in the back of the throat, causing me to gag. The next shot missed my mouth, hitting my lips and nose. He continued to stroke himself as his orgasm diminished, dribbling cum into my mouth and onto my face. He took his fingers out of my mouth, and I was forced to swallow his cum to avoid choking. He smiled down at me and said, "You're a great fuck, bitch, even when you don't want it." He got off the bed then, and dressed, and left. I rolled over and cried until I slept.