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."