Breaking Up
Mick Sloane
A woman breaks up with her boyfriend, and then she breaks him



	Rebecca sat patiently on the couch, sipping a vodka tonic, 
waiting.  Her boyfriend, John, was coming for dinner.  Or so he 
thought.  He was coming over, in any event.  That was all that 
mattered.
	It was Friday night.  She had suggested that he come over to 
the house for dinner, and that they spend a quiet evening alone 
together.  She knew it would be private, because she was the only one 
in her sorority who was staying in the house over the summer.  She 
had agreed to take care of things around the house in exchange for 
living there rent-free during the summer break, while she took some 
extra classes and worked to save some money for next semester.
	She had dimmed the lights in the main dining hall, and had set 
one table for two, right in the center of the room, with nice linens and 
dishes.  Two tall, white candles stood on the table, their yellow flames 
flickering in the murky light of the big room.
	That was the only preparation her plans for this evening would 
require.  There would be no dinner.  She was going to eat him alive, to 
be sure, but that was another matter.  That required no real 
preparation.  She had been preparing for that all of her life, in a 
manner of speaking.
	Rebecca was in excellent physical condition, and always had 
been.  She was tall, at five feet and eleven inches, though not as tall as 
John, who was well over six feet.  Rebecca had been active in sports 
throughout high school, especially track and basketball.  She played 
basketball on her college team, and had begun to see some playing 
time last year, her sophomore season.  She continued to run, and to lift 
weights regularly.  She had taken up karate last year, enrolling in 
classes at the university.  Her frame was tall and lean, however, rather 
than bulky.  She was muscular, but with a toned, sinewy physique.  
Her arms, her legs, her body were solid and strong, but lean and 
compact rather than big and bulky.
	She was an extremely attractive woman, often turning heads 
with her long, blond hair, her pretty face, with blue eyes, high 
cheekbones, and cute, feminine nose.  Her long, tan, muscular legs, 
though, and her firm, tight butt were what usually attracted the most 
attention.  She had always been able to be choosy about the men she 
dated, selecting ones that were taller than her, strong, muscular, 
handsome.  She never had trouble finding dates, if she wanted them, 
and she wouldn't have any trouble after she broke up with John, she 
knew.
	That was exactly what she was going to do this evening, too.  
She was going to dump him, and she wasn't going to let him down 
easily, either.  Not after what he had done.  She would teach him.  No.  
She didn't really care whether he learned anything or not.  Rebecca 
only cared about hurting him, embarrassing him, as he had hurt and 
embarrassed her.  No, far worse.  He deserved it.  He had started it, so 
she would do him one better.  And no one would be able to hear him 
scream.  Not from within the depths of this big, empty house.  They 
had been dating almost two years, and all she wanted to do was hurt 
him.  "Hell hath no fury," she said to herself, scowling.
	Rebecca thought about all of these things, as she sat on the 
couch in the entry hall of her sorority house, sipping her vodka tonic.  
She sat with her lovely legs crossed, casually, waiting.  She was 
wearing a tight shirt, and a hot little black skirt, and sexy black boots.  
No stockings.  She wanted him to remember this night for a long time, 
if he survived it, and to realize, too late, what he had lost.  Beneath her 
sexy outfit, Rebecca wore tight, gray, thigh-hugging workout shorts 
and a sports bra.  She was ready.
	John arrived about fifteen minutes late, as usual.  He looked 
good, tall and handsome, with dark hair, chiseled face, broad 
shoulders.  He was very muscular, a little on the bulky side.  He was 
on the school football team, though he was not a starter.  They had 
often joked that Rebecca saw more playing time than he did.  He wore 
a golf shirt and denim shorts.  He looked great.  Rebecca vowed to 
herself that he would not look so good after this evening.
	She smiled as he came in, rising to give him a warm hug and a 
kiss.  He had just arrived back in town today for summer school, and 
they had not seen one another in a couple of weeks.  She had stayed in 
town during this time, working her job, taking care of the house, 
planning for this evening.
	"Wow are you a sight for sore eyes, Bec" John said charmingly, 
taking a step back so that he could take in her gorgeous body and sexy 
little outfit.
	Rebecca smiled, playfully.  "You don't look so bad, either," she 
said.  "Want a drink?"
	"Sure," he answered.
	"Jack and Coke?" she asked, walking towards the hallway that 
led into the sorority rooms.
	"Great," he said.
	"I'll run to my room and get it.  Make yourself comfortable.  
There's no one else here."
	"Just us, huh?" John asked, smiling sexily, mischievously.
	"That's right, sweetie.  Just us," Rebecca turned away, so that 
he could not see the hungry look on her face.  She went up to her room 
to fix his drink, leaving him in the entry hall of the house.
	When she returned, he was sitting on the sofa, looking around 
the room quietly.  She handed him his drink, taking his other hand in 
hers, pulling him up off of the couch.
	"Let's go downstairs to the dining room.  Dinner should be 
ready soon," she lied.
	"Wow.  Okay," he said, putting an arm around her as they 
walked through the empty house together.
	"Gee, Bec," he said, as they arrived in the dining area.  "I hope 
you didn't go to any trouble."
	She smiled sweetly.  "No trouble at all, for you, darling."  She 
led him to the table she had set, and sat down in one of the chairs.  He 
set his drink on the table, and sat down in the other, facing her.
	"How's the family?" she said, looking into his face from across 
the table.
	"Oh they're fine," he answered, rolling his eyes.  "They drove 
me crazy, as usual.  Mom can't understand why I don't get straight 'A's, 
and Dad can't understand why coach doesn't give me more playing 
time.  I can't understand why I go back to see them."
	They laughed, and Rebecca thought to herself "I know why you 
went back.  And it wasn't to see them, you pig."
	"Do you need any help with dinner?" he asked politely.
	"Oh, no.  I have everything under control in the kitchen," she 
said.  "It will be another few minutes.  I thought we could just talk 
until dinner's ready."
	"It's been almost three weeks," John said, raising his eyebrows.  
"Are you sure you want to talk?"
	She smiled mischievously, casually touching his leg with her 
foot under the table.  "Later," she said.  "I have an incredible evening 
in store for us.  Let's just talk now."
	"An incredible evening?" he asked, smiling.  "You can't just say 
something like that and not elaborate.  Your killing me."
	Rebecca smiled again.  "Let's just say I'm going to do things 
with you that no woman has ever done before."  She looked directly 
into his eyes, gauging his response.
	He laughed and fanned himself with his napkin.  "Is it warm in 
here?  Let's eat and get on to that other stuff!"
	She smirked, pleased.  "Soon enough, darling.  Be patient.  I 
promise this will be new and very exciting."
	John returned her smile, saying "I trust you.  But you know, I'm 
no alter boy, Bec.  It takes a lot to surprise me."
	Rebecca smiled thinly at the irony of his statement.  "Don't 
worry.  You've never done anything like this," she said confidently.
	He studied her face.  "So, what do you want to talk about?"
	"Oh, I don't know.  Tell me what you've been up to since you 
went back home."
	"Not much, really," he said, looking at one of the candles.  "I'm 
afraid it was just another boring visit with the family."
	She took a deep breath, looking into his face, preparing herself.  
"Why don't you tell me about Jenny," she said, her tone level.
	He looked at her face, and knew instantly that she knew.  
Something at least.  He did not know what she knew, though.  
"Jenny?" he said, his face confused.
	"You know," she smiled emptily.  "Jenny Thompson," she said, 
her eyes betraying the slightest hint of the anger which she held back, 
controlling it, channeling it.
	"Oh," he said.  "Jenny Thompson.  She's a cheerleader for the 
football team, I think," John said, cautiously.  "What about her?"
	Rebecca laughed wickedly.  "Why don't you tell me about 
fucking her in the bathroom at your fraternity during your spring party, 
while I was helping out at the bar?"
	He said nothing, looking at his empty plate on the table.
	"Oh, I know," Rebecca continued, enthusiastically.  "You could 
tell me about the nights she spent in your room at the house during 
finals week, when you were too busy studying to see me."
	Still, John was silent, looking at the table.
	"Here's something we can talk about, sweetie," she continued, 
looking into his face, as he continued to avert his eyes.  "Let's talk 
about how you and she were all over each other at Dana's party back 
home last week.  Or maybe how you and little Jenny ran into Cindy 
and her boyfriend at the movies the week before last.  Maybe you can 
tell me what made you think that my friends, my sorority sisters, 
wouldn't tell me about her."
	John looked up at her.  "Rebecca, ..." he started.
	"Maybe we could talk about how all of your little fraternity 
friends knew that you were cheating on me for the last three months, 
and how they helped you hide it from me.  Probably because you help 
them hide their little flings, too," she spat, her voice growing louder, 
her speech more angry.
	"Bec, I'm sorry," he said.  "You've got it all wrong.  It wasn't 
anything."
	"I don't guess you would want to talk, then, about how 
embarrassing it is for me that all of your friends knew about her.  How 
about that my friends all know about her, too?  That's a little 
humiliating for me, don't you think?  My boyfriend of almost two 
years starts sleeping around with a slutty little freshman cheerleader 
from that sorority full of slutty little cheerleaders, and everyone knows 
about it before me.  You're a real classy guy, John," she said, her 
voice dripping with contempt.
	"Bec, please.  Let me explain.  It wasn't anything.  I love you," 
John said, desperately.
	"Oh, please!  Don't give me that crap.  Are you saying you 
didn't sleep with her, multiple times?"
	His face fell.  "No, I'm not saying that.  You already know that 
I did."
	"Are you saying, then, that you didn't hide it from me?"
	"No," John said.  "I'm not saying that.  It didn't mean anything 
though, Bec."
	"So, then," Rebecca continued angrily, "maybe you are saying 
that you were at least discreet about screwing around on me, so that 
none of our friends know about it."
	"No," John said.  "I guess I wasn't.  It sounds like they know 
quite a bit."
	"Yeah, I'll say," she said, glaring at him.  "Maybe you can tell 
me something, at least then."
	"What," he asked, hopefully.
	"Tell me why, you heartless son of a bitch," she spat.
	"I don't know, Bec.  I made a mistake.  She was just, I don't 
know, all over me, and I guess I kind of liked it, having this cute little 
cheerleader interested in me.  But it doesn't mean anything.  I don't 
love her."
	"Oh," Rebecca said, sarcastically.  "Well, that's good to hear.  
It sounds like it was all her fault, then."
	"No, I didn't say that."
	"Good.  You had better not.  And don't give me that crap about 
how you love me, either.  You have made it clear that you don't."
	"But I do, Bec," he pleaded.
	"When my dad left my mom for that trampy little secretary in 
his office, at least he had the decency to tell mom the truth, that he 
didn't love her anymore.  This is not something that people who love 
one another do, is it?"
	His face fell.  "But I do love you.  I just made a stupid 
mistake."
	She looked at him hatefully.  "I'll say you did.  Do you even 
understand what you have done to me?   Hurt me, betrayed me, 
humiliated me.  Do you hate me or something?"
	"Oh, God, no," John said.  "No.  I just made a mistake.  I'm so 
sorry, Bec.  Please forgive me.  I didn't mean to hurt you."
	"I'm not ready to accept any apologies, John.  You did hurt me, 
and you embarrassed me in front of my friends, and in front of your 
fucking friends, too.  Those damned idiots probably think I'm some 
kind of fool.  How do you think that feels, John?"
	"I understand," he said.  "You're very hurt and upset.  You 
have every right ..."
	"You don't understand," Rebecca said, getting up from the 
table, pacing back and forth.  "You may know that I'm hurt, that I'm 
upset, but you don't understand.  You will though.  You will," she 
said, looking him in the eye.
	He stood up.  "Oh come on, Bec.  I'm so sorry.  I feel just 
terrible," he approached her, making a move to embrace her, to calm 
her.
	"You don't know from sorry.  You don't have any idea about 
feeling terrible," she said angrily, as he tried to embrace her, smacking 
his face harshly, taking him by the shoulders, as he was off balance, 
pushing him away harshly, slamming his back against the wall.
	John's eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed.  "Don't do 
that, Bec.  That isn't called for.  I'm begging you.  Let's talk about 
this.  I need your forgiveness."  He approached her again, trying to 
take her hands in his.
	Rebecca would not let him though, stepping to his side, and 
pushing his shoulder forcefully, making him trip backwards several 
steps.
	John's eyes narrowed again, and he said "Okay.  This isn't a 
good time to resolve this, I can see.  I'll just go, and we can talk about 
this some other time, when you are a little bit more rational."  He tried 
to walk around her, towards the front entry hall.
	"You aren't going anywhere, you bastard," she said coldly, and 
lowered her shoulder, slamming it into him, smacking him backward 
and against the wall again.
	"Damn it, Bec," he said, visibly losing his cool.  "I'm leaving.  
Get the hell out of my way," and he again tried to walk around her.  
	She beat him on the back with her fists, and ran around him, 
standing in front of him again, blocking his way.  As he tried to walk 
around her, she again lowered her shoulder and forced it into him, 
sending him backward several steps.
	"That's it, Bec," he said angrily.  "I understand that you're 
angry, but I'm leaving.  Now get the hell out of my way."
	She continued to stand in his path, putting her hands on her 
hips defiantly.  John walked towards her, then lowered his shoulder, 
running now, and slammed his shoulder into her chest, sending her 
flying backwards.  She lost her balance, and landed on her back, on the 
floor.
	As John tried to walk around her, Rebecca caught one of his 
legs with her feet, tangling him up, tripping him, and he landed on the 
ground next to her.  She kicked him in the back with her boot as he lay 
on the floor.  Before she could get up, though, he rose to his hands and 
knees and jumped on top of her, pinning her to the ground, straddling 
her middle, holding her arms by the wrists, looking down at her 
angrily.
	"Damn it, Becca, you're pissing me off.  I don't want to hurt 
you.  Just stay down, and let me leave," he said angrily.
	She stopped struggling, and he loosened his grip on her wrists.  
When he did, she pulled one of them free, and forced the heel of her 
hand upward, hitting him forcefully in the chin.  He swore, and caught 
her wrist again, holding them both tightly in his hands, still sitting on 
her.  He squeezed her wrists tightly, angrily, wanting her to feel his 
strength, to remember who she was messing with.
	"You're hurting me," she said.
	"Don't make me hurt you worse," he said, his blood boiling 
with anger.
	She looked up at him hatefully.  "Was she good?" Rebecca 
asked him, thrashing, trying to break free.
	He returned her angry gaze, his voice filled with hate now.  
"She was great," he said cruelly.
	"You won't be able to fuck her for a long time, when I finish 
with you," Rebecca said, still thrashing to break her hands free.
	He held her tightly, and smiled.  "You're in no position to 
make threats, Bec.  Now stop acting like a spoiled little girl, so I can 
let you go, before I really hurt you."
	She glared up at him, and spat into his face contemptuously.  
He released one of her wrists, and slapped her, his hand stinging her 
face, her eyes widening from the shock of his blow.  She tried to hit 
him back, but he caught her wrist and held it tightly again.  She arched 
her back, and planted her feet flat on the ground below him.  She used 
the leverage in her lower body to throw him off of her, and he landed 
on his side, next to her, with a grunt.
	She rose quickly to her feet, as did he.  She crouched slightly, 
watching his every move.  He stood his ground, keeping a little 
distance between them, watching her cautiously.  She threw a kick at 
him, catching him solidly in the chest, then kicking him in his side 
with her other boot.  She used her long legs to land another kick to his 
midsection, and then a fourth.  He extended his arms, and came 
running towards her, in an attempt to tackle her with his body before 
she could kick him again.
	Rebecca sidestepped him, simultaneously catching one of his 
arms by the wrist and sweeping her leg underneath him, tripping him.  
As he fell, she brought her free forearm up into his arm, which she 
held by the wrist with her other hand.  She pulled his arm forward, as 
he fell, striking it sharply with her forearm, snapping the bone, hearing 
it crack.
	John landed on the floor, and screamed in pain, quickly rising 
to his feet.  "Damn you, Bec!" he shouted.  "You broke my arm!  Do 
you have any idea what you just did?  Now I can't practice with the 
team this summer!  You'll pay for that, you nasty little witch!" he 
shouted at her.
	She crouched, still ready.  "I'll do worse before you leave, you 
bastard.  Not playing football will be the least of your problems.  
You'll have to eat through a straw, fucker," she said, exhilarated.  She 
had broken his arm.  It would get easier and easier if she could 
continue to damage him.
	He ran at her, catching her by the neck with his good hand, 
surprising her.  He forced her, by the neck, powerfully into the wall, 
knocking her head and her back into the wall with a thud, sending the 
wind from her.  She fell to the ground, and he kicked her, in the shin, 
in the side, in the back, as she rolled around, trying to recover her 
breath and dodge his kicks at the same time.
	She caught one of his legs between hers and rolled over, 
pulling it out from under him, forcing him off balance, and he fell to 
the floor next to her, howling in pain as his broken arm absorbed some 
of the impact of the fall.  As she regained her breath, she rose quickly, 
but so did he.
	John took her by the neck again, holding her head tightly 
against the wall, looking into her face hatefully.  She returned his gaze 
coldly.  Rebecca punched him savagely in the stomach, catching him 
by surprise, feeling her fist force the air from him.  He gasped, and let 
go of her neck, taking a step back.  She walked forward, landing 
another punch into his stomach, and then a third, punishing his 
stomach, knocking the wind from him.  He gasped, and tried to step 
back, but she caught him by the shoulders, and lifted her knee savagely 
into his injured stomach, pulling him into her simultaneously by the 
shoulders.  He tried to punch her, but she stood too close, and his blow 
did no damage.  She lifted her knee into his gut again, and again, 
lifting her leg like a piston into his stomach, holding him in close to 
her by the shoulders.  When she released him, he fell to his hands and 
knees.
	Rebecca stood over him, eyeing her work with satisfaction.  
While he was on the ground, on his knees, using his good hand to 
support himself, she stomped on his hand, which was flat on the floor, 
with the heel of her boot, hearing him scream, hearing one of his 
fingers snap.  She held her boot on his hand for a moment, causing 
him a great deal of agony, then released it.  He pulled his hand away, 
still on his knees, and she kicked him in the chest with her boot, 
sending him flying backwards, onto his back on the floor.  Rebecca 
stood over him, and stomped her boot onto his stomach.  He gasped, 
and rolled onto his side.
	She kicked him in the stomach again, forcing him to lay on his 
belly to protect it from further attack.  Rebecca stepped onto his back 
with one boot, then the other, standing on the small of his back with 
all of her weight.  He tried to get up, but could not.  One arm was 
broken, one finger on his opposite hand also broken.  She stood, her 
full weight on his lower back, so he could not use his legs to throw 
her.
	Rebecca stood on him.  She felt no guilt.  She was exhilarated.  
He deserved what he was going to get.  She bent down, grabbing the 
wrist of his good arm, taking his hand, with the broken finger, in both 
of her hands.  She pulled it up, sharply, toward her, behind his back.  
She began twisting his arm, and simultaneously crushing his hand in 
both of hers.  She continued to  pull on his arm, moving one of her feet 
onto his shoulder, holding him flat against the ground, as she pulled 
his arm up and back, twisting it.  He screamed and kicked his feet, 
shouting obscenities at her.
	She could hear the pain and desperation in his screams, as she 
crushed his hand, with the broken finger, in both of hers, and she loved 
it.  She felt his bones mashing together in her hands, and she crushed it 
tighter, mercilessly.  He screamed in pain as she stood on him, pulling 
his arm back, crushing his hand.  She felt the little bones in his hand 
collapsing, heard them breaking, kept crushing his hand, harder and 
harder, his fingers and the little bones in the center of his hand 
breaking in her grip.  His screams became harsher, his voice higher 
pitched.
	She continued to hold his broken hand firmly in hers, and she 
pulled his arm back further and further, twisting it as she pulled, 
relishing his screams, her boot on his shoulder.  She felt his arm stop 
twisting, and then she pulled and twisted sharply, savagely, dislocating 
his arm from the shoulder with a popping sound as he screamed, 
gasping and hyperventilating from the unbelievable pain.
	She released his arm, and it fell limply to the floor, as if it was 
no longer a part of his body, laying beside him motionless.  He 
continued to scream, still shouting obscenities at Rebecca.  She turned 
around on his back, walking on him rudely, as if he were designed for 
her to step on.
	As she stood on him, she took off her shirt, and her little skirt, 
now wearing only her tight, gray exercise shorts, sports bra, and heavy 
black boots.
	"I'm going to break you, my love, literally.  All over.  I'm 
going to find every bone in your body, and break it, my sweet.  And 
you'll be awake for all of it.  You think you're in pain now?  Just 
wait," she said coolly.  She wouldn't really break every bone in his 
body.  She would break as many as she could think of without doing 
any permanent damage, though.
	She sat down on him, on his butt, straddling him, facing his 
legs and feet.  She reached down and caught one of his legs by the 
ankle, pulling it back towards her.  He used his free foot to kick at her, 
catching her sharply in the chin.
	She stood up, quickly, stepping off of him, and away from his 
foot, before he could kick her again.  She stood to his side, using her 
foot to roll him over on his back, standing over him still.  Rebecca 
leaned down, catching his leg by the ankle, lifting it off of the ground 
slightly, pulling it straight at the knee.
	"I'm going to break your fucking leg, now, dear.  Try to stop 
me."
	John thrashed about, trying to kick at her with his other foot, 
unable to do any damage, screaming in pain and fear.  "Please, Bec," 
he shouted.  "I'm so sorry.  Please let me show you how sorry I am.  
Oh, God, please!"
	"Later," she said coldly.  "I'll let you show me later.  I like 
hearing you beg, though," she said, and she lifted his leg sharply, 
lifting her knee at the same time, and pulling his leg forcefully into her 
knee, hearing the bone in his lower leg shatter against her.  He 
screamed and began sobbing from the pain, as she held his broken leg, 
feeling strong, aroused.  "Do you want to kick me again?" she spat.  
"No, I'll bet not."
	Rebecca let his leg fall to the ground, and kicked him back 
onto his stomach, facing downward.  She resumed her position on his 
butt, straddling him.  "Now, where were we?" she asked cruelly, easily 
catching his undamaged leg by the ankle.  His other leg remained on 
the floor, broken, useless.  She bent his leg at the knee, pulling his foot 
back into her lap.  She held his ankle between her knees, firmly.  She 
took off his shoe, tossing it over her shoulder, bouncing it off of the 
back of his head, as he continued to scream and sob and beg.  She took 
off his sock.
	She ran her fingers lightly up and down the bottom of his foot, 
in between his toes, feeling his body tense from the sensation, and 
from fear.  She took his big toe in her hands, then his next toe, then the 
next.  "Which little piggy?" she said, laughing as she sat on him and 
held his foot firmly in her lap.  She settled on the middle toe, gripping 
it firmly between her fingers.  "This one first," she said, bending it 
forward, sharply, hearing the bone snap, hearing him scream and cry 
beneath her.  
	Rebecca laughed cruelly at him, pressing his broken toe lightly 
between her fingers, eliciting additional screams from him.  "Well I 
can't only do one," she said.  
	"Please, Becca.  Please.  No more!  Please only do one!" he 
shouted from beneath her.
	She laughed at his pleading.  "All right, love," she said.  "I'll 
compromise with you.  I'll break a little one," she said, laughing, 
waiting to hear him scream and beg before she snapped his little toe at 
the joint with her strong hands.  She released his foot, and he pulled it 
away from her, laying it gently back on the ground behind him, next to 
his other.
	Rebecca got off of him, and leaned over to roll him onto his 
back.  She stood above him menacingly, her hands still on her hips.  
She kicked off her boots, standing next to his head in her bare feet, 
looking down into his face.
	"Beg me not to hurt you anymore," she said.  "Now."
	"Please, please don't hurt me, Becca," John said quickly.  "I'm 
so sorry.  Please stop hurting me."
	"Suck my toes," she said, putting her foot firmly on his face, 
dangling her toes over his mouth.  He opened his mouth, taking her 
toes into it.  Rather than sucking them, though, he bit them, hard, 
drawing blood.
	Rebecca kicked him in the side of the head with the heel of her 
other foot, once, twice, but he did not release her, in fact he bit harder.  
Quickly, she stepped on his neck with her free foot, bringing all of her 
weight onto his neck, causing him to gag and gasp, and to release her 
toes.  The biggest two toes were bleeding, and they hurt, but the 
damage was minimal.
	She stepped off of his throat quickly, before he passed out from 
lack of air.  "You fucking bastard!" she screamed, as he gasped in a 
breath of air.  "You had your chance.  I'm really kind of glad, though, 
you fuck.  Now I don't have to feel bad about breaking you some 
more."
	"No, Bec!  I'm sorry.  You just hurt me so badly.  I was angry.  
Please don't hurt me anymore," he shouted, his body shaking visibly.
	She ignored him, laying down on the floor, her body 
perpendicular to his.  She lifted his legs rudely, laughing at the 
screams of pain she produced, sliding her leg in underneath his butt, 
and placing the other above his crotch, circling his pelvis and hips 
with her long, muscular legs.  She smiled as she felt his erection 
against her inner thigh, beneath the leg which she had wrapped over 
the top of him.  She propped herself on an elbow, laying on her side, 
looking at his face, resting her leg loosely across his lap, with her other 
leg beneath him, feeling his flesh, his muscles between her thighs.
	"You want to chew on my feet, do you, my cheating little dear?  
Well, I'm going to chew on you, now.  I'm going to chew you up 
between my legs, crush you, squish you, break you, listen to you break, 
and scream, and cry, and beg."  
	"No, Becca, please!" John shouted.
	She smiled at him, and began squeezing him between her 
thighs, feeling his torso squirm, seeing him lift his head from the floor 
to watch as she crushed him.  She increased the pressure slowly, 
steadily, hearing his screams rise in desperation proportionally.
	Rebecca laughed.  "I wonder how long it will be before you are 
able to fuck Jenny again, loverboy."  She clamped down harder on 
him, evoking another scream, more thrashing.  "I wonder if she will 
wait for you to heal, darling?  I'm afraid she will probably find some 
other dumb football player to slut around with long before you're well 
enough to satisfy her, though, don't you think?"
	She clamped down harder, hooking her top leg around his body 
to pull him in closer against her crotch.  She straightened her legs then, 
and began squeezing him in earnest, as he screamed and sobbed, 
feeling his muscles, his flesh, his bones, between her thighs.  She 
continued to squeeze him, until she reached a point where his body 
wouldn't squeeze any more, where her legs would not contract any 
further.  
	She looked into his face, and gathered all of her strength, 
loosening her grip slightly for a moment, and then squeezed rapidly, 
mightily, with her thighs, and she heard something snap, felt 
something give between her legs.  He screamed and sobbed in pain.  
She wasn't sure if she had broken his pelvis, or perhaps dislocated one 
of his legs, but she had damaged something.  She relaxed her legs 
around him, and just enjoyed the feel of his soft, wrecked body in 
between them, trembling.  Rebecca came in her shorts, squeezing him 
lightly as she did so, just to hear him scream and beg some more 
during her orgasm.
	She released him from her legs, after she lay there for a while, 
recovering.  She walked over next to his head, and sat down on the 
floor next to him.  She brushed his face lightly with her hand, wiping 
away his tears, humiliating him, letting him feel her complete control.
	She draped one of her legs across his face, with her calf on top 
of his closed mouth.  "I want you to lick my leg now.  I want you to 
lick and kiss my leg.  Do it quickly, and perhaps I'll stop hurting you 
soon."
	John complied quickly, opening his mouth and licking 
Rebecca's calf, kissing and licking it obediently, tenderly, feeling its 
strength and power with his mouth.  She smiled and felt power surge 
through her as he licked her leg.  "How humiliating for you, really," 
she observed, as he licked her and kissed her.  "Laying there all 
squished and broken, having to lick my leg, the leg which just crushed 
your big, strong, muscular, male body so effortlessly.  I abused you 
terribly with this leg, yet here you are kissing it, sucking it, because 
you have to, to make me happy, in the hope that I won't hurt you 
anymore."  She laughed at him.
	John stopped kissing her, and turned his head to the side, so 
that he could speak, so that his voice would not be muffled by 
Rebecca's calf.  "I can't believe that I dated you for two years, Bec, 
and I never saw what a horrible, crazy bitch you were.  You will get 
yours, though.  Count on it.  You will," he said, hatred in his voice.
	She took her leg off of his face, laughing.  "You'll excuse me 
if I'm not terribly frightened by your threats, love, what with you 
laying on the floor, all broken and useless.  You know, this was just 
me and you, sweetie."  She stood up, and leaned down, gripping him 
under his arms, pulling him upward.  "I did this to you, all by myself.  
A girl.  I wear makeup and jewelry.  I wear skirts, high heels, hose, 
bras.  I have long hair, soft skin.  Just a woman"
	She was holding him up now, her hands under his arms.  She 
lifted him, facing her, so that his eyes were level with hers, his face 
inches from hers.  His legs dangled uselessly below him, and his body 
was weak.  He would not have been able to stand on his own.  She 
looked directly into his face, making certain that he could feel her 
breath, smell her perfume.
	"I'm only a girl, big man.  I have been your girlfriend, your 
woman, for the past two years.  You took me on dates.  You paid.  
You fucked me.  Look at me.  I can feel how hard you are down there.  
I'm just a woman," she said, looking deep into his eyes.  "And I have 
beaten you, broken you, crushed and humiliated you, listened as you 
screamed, as you cried, as you begged.  Begged me.  Just a woman.  A 
smaller, softer woman.  How frustrating for you."
	John's pain was excruciating, more so now that he was no 
longer flat on his back with the floor to support his broken body.  He 
scowled at her, and said in a pained voice "You're out of your mind, 
Bec.  I'll get you if it's the last thing I do.  Believe it."
	She laughed softly in his face, holding him up, and she moved 
her face closer to his, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, licking 
his ear, his neck.  She kissed him softly on the mouth, feeling his 
erection against her.  She pulled her face back, perhaps an inch or two, 
looking delicately into his eyes, seeing his arousal, letting him feel her 
breath against his face.  His breathing had quickened.
	She spoke softly, sexily into his ear.  "Remember the feel of 
my kisses, of my mouth on you, love.  Keep thinking about that, and 
feel my breasts against you, as I crush you now.  I want you to 
remember who I am, what I feel like against you, what I taste like.  
I'm a girl, sweetie."
	With that, she lowered herself, one arm, and then the other, 
wrapping them around his middle, finding the point where the stomach 
ends and the chest begins, and hugging him against her breasts.  She 
straightened her legs and her back, standing up straight, lifting his 
body a few inches off of the ground, hugging him against her, her arms 
wrapped around his back, her head below his chin, her face against his 
neck.
	"No, Becca!  Please," he said desperately.
	"Shhh," she said against his neck soothingly.  She clasped her 
wrists behind his back, pulling him in tightly against her breasts.
	She spoke with her lips against his neck, "Feel my body 
pressed up against you.  Feel my strength, and your weakness."  And 
she began hugging him, tighter, and tighter.  She felt his torso 
wriggling in uneasy discomfort, heard him asking her to please stop.  
She kissed his neck softly, with moist lips, and she continued to 
squeeze him against her, more and more firmly.  She could feel his 
bones against her chest, feel the air rushing from him as she continued 
to squeeze, feel the muscles in his back weaken as she hugged him.  
	He screamed louder and louder, as she continued to hug him, 
to kiss his neck, to lick it playfully, to bite it softly.  "Feel how 
completely you have lost to me, love.  I'm holding you off of the 
ground, completely supporting your broken body.  I'm crushing you in 
my arms, as you scream, and cry, and beg.  Feel my face, my lips, my 
tongue on your neck.  Feel your own erection, despite yourself.  It 
betrays you, because you are so weak," she said, her lips against his 
neck again, kissing, biting.
	As she continued to squeeze him harder against her, she 
reached a point where she felt that any additional pressure might break 
him, felt that this was the optimal point at which to hurt him, just 
before the breaking point.  She held him that way, swaying lightly, 
crushing him, hearing his labored breath through his neck, kissing his 
neck and shoulders, letting him feel her laughter through their bodies.  
He screamed, and he cried, as she held him that way for perhaps 
fifteen minutes.
	Finally, when he seemed to be growing used to the pain, 
seemed to be calming down, she whispered against his neck, "Brace 
yourself, my darling.  Here we go."
	"No!  Please, God, no!" he sobbed.
	She increased the pressure of her hug suddenly, forcefully, in 
one quick motion, hearing one of his ribs snap.  He shrieked in pain, 
convulsing from the pain all over his body.  She moved her hands up 
on his back, slightly, and squeezed him against her again, forcefully, 
breaking another rib, or perhaps two.
	Rebecca loosened her grip on him, allowing him to slide down 
her body, so that his face was level with hers.  He continued to scream 
and cry from the pain, and she leaned her head back, so she could look 
into his face, so he could see her.  She nuzzled his face, kissing him on 
the mouth, as he continued to cry and shiver.  She moved her head 
aside, letting his head rest on her shoulder.
	She kissed the side of his face, licked his ear, whispered to 
him.  "It doesn't look good for you, my sweet.  I know this must be 
extremely painful, and so humiliating.  You must wish that it would 
just end, but it won't, not yet.  It won't because I'm in control, and I'm 
not done yet."
	"Please, Bec.  Oh, please.  I'll do anything you say.  Honestly.  
Just please don't hurt me anymore," he pleaded.
	"Shhh," she whispered in his ear.  "You had better brace 
yourself again.  This is likely to hurt you, love."  She squeezed his 
upper chest against her, feeling his body, his muscles, press against her 
breasts.  Rebecca hugged harder and harder, feeling his muscles 
weaken, his breaths shorten.  "That's it dear.  You can cry on my 
shoulder.  Perhaps if you kiss me, and lick me, on the shoulder, on the 
neck, I won't torture you quite so badly."
	"Oh, yes, please," he said desperately, as she continued to hug 
tighter.  He kissed her neck, his tears streaming down her shoulders.  
He licked her, sobbing, screaming as she pulled him against her more, 
then more.  She reached orgasm again, standing there, holding him, 
crushing him, as he cried on her shoulder, licking her neck, begging 
her to take mercy on him.  As she came, she squeezed him in her arms 
with all of her might, breaking more of his ribs, squeezing tighter still, 
really hurting him, making him scream and sob like a tortured animal.
	When she had finished breaking him, Rebecca released him, 
carelessly, letting his body thump to the floor, the impact of the fall on 
his broken bones and torn muscles causing him to scream anew.  She 
stood over him as he lay on his back, whimpering and crying, 
convulsing from pain and exhaustion.
	She lifted a foot off of the ground, setting it on his chest, ever 
so lightly, feeling him with her foot, watching him squirm, hearing 
him scream as she touched his tender, broken chest with her foot.  She 
watched him carefully, curiously, as she moved her foot down to his 
crotch.  He was still erect, but her light tough on his crushed body 
caused him immense pain.  She continued to walk around his body, 
touching his legs, his feet, his arms and hands with her foot, hearing 
him scream as she found yet another of his broken bones.  He eyed her 
fearfully, literally unable to make her stop or to move away from her.
	"Have you had enough, then, love?" she asked, her voice 
gentle.
	"Yes," he said weakly, desperately.  "Please, no more.  
Please."
	"You would be willing, then, to do anything to convince me to 
stop hurting you," she said softly, powerfully.
	"Oh," he said earnestly.  "Yes, anything."
	Rebecca smiled down at him, leaning to remove her shorts.  
She wore no panties beneath them.  "Here is how you will convince 
me then, love.  I want your face in my ass, your tongue in my sex.  I 
want you kissing me, licking me.  I want to feel your voice, begging 
against my ass, begging me not to hurt you anymore, your lips moving 
against my ass, telling me that I have won, that you gladly accept my 
complete superiority over you.  Will you do that, if I agree to stop 
beating you?"
	"Yes," John said eagerly, "anything you want.  Please don't 
hurt me anymore."
	She smiled, feeling her control.  John had never pleasured her 
orally, had always said that he did not like to administer oral sex.  He 
would do it now, though, quite willingly, if only she would stop 
hurting him, just stop inflicting pain upon him.  The arousal she felt 
was unbelievable, beyond anything she could remember ever feeling 
before.
	She stood above his head, one foot on either side, and lowered 
herself to her knees, her crotch, her naked buttocks inches from his 
face.  She lifted his head off of the floor, pressing his face lightly 
against her.  On her knees, Rebecca turned her lower legs inward, 
placing her calves beneath his head, holding him firmly, and letting go 
with her hands.  She stroked his hair softly, and then she quickly 
tightened her legs around his head, lowering her body forcefully 
against his face.
	She felt his face against her skin, against her ass, her sex.  "Go 
on, my sweet.  Show me now why I should not hurt you anymore.  You 
had better convince me.  You have plenty of bones left unbroken, and I 
have plenty of time, plenty of energy, and I do so enjoy breaking you."
	She felt him, pressed up against her, kissing her obediently, 
licking her.  "That's it," she said.  "Feel me sit on you, on your face, 
using you.  Kiss my butt, lick me," she said.  He complied, kissing her, 
licking her ass, her crotch.
	"Beg me not to hurt you more," she said.  "Tell me that I have 
beaten you, am superior to you."  She felt his lips, his breath, his voice 
against her, doing as she had told him.  "Lick me deeper.  Deeper, or I 
swear I'll crush you into pulp.  That's it.  I want your tongue inside 
me.  Deeper.  Find a way to stretch your tongue, love.  I want to feel it 
in my throat."
	He complied desperately, licking her deep within her ass, and 
within her sex, as she clamped his face against her tighter and tighter, 
forcing him deeper and deeper within her.  She could tell that he was 
no longer able to breathe, but she held him against her tightly, saying 
"You'll breathe later, if I let you.  Just lick me.  Suck me."
	As she came on his face, she brought her calves up against the 
back of his head sharply, cruelly, grinding her body harshly against his 
face, hearing his nose break, feeling it collapse against her.  She got 
off of him quickly, before he could bleed on her, dropping his head 
carelessly on the ground as she released it from her legs.
	As she stood over him, looking down at him, she felt a pang of 
guilt.  He was a mess.  He was moaning, sobbing, and blood was 
flowing from his nose.  John was unable to do anything to prevent his 
nose from bleeding, because Rebecca had broken one of his arms and 
crushed his opposite hand.  She had really beaten him badly.
	She bent down, quickly, and picked her tee-shirt up from the 
floor.  She sat behind his head, and crossed her legs, lifting his head up 
onto her lap.  Rebecca held the shirt gently against his nose, holding 
his head up on her lap, trying to stop the bleeding.  Before she realized 
what she was doing, she brushed her hand gently through his hair, 
saying "Shhh.  Hush, darling."
	He managed to settle down.  It was extremely painful for him 
to scream, to cry, even to speak, because of his broken ribs, as well as 
the excessive damage to the rest of him.  He lay still now, his head in 
Rebecca's lap, as she held the shirt against his face, checking 
periodically to see if the bleeding had slowed.  Eventually, his nose 
stopped bleeding, and she set her soiled shirt on the floor next to them, 
still petting his head with her hand, trying to comfort him.
	"Wow, Bec," he said after a while, his voice pained and nasal 
as he struggled to speak with a broken nose and broken ribs.  "You 
really beat the shit out of me.  You're just amazing."
	"I'm sorry," she said.  "I went much too far."
	"I'll say," he said, and started to laugh, but stopped quickly, as 
the pain it caused was terribly severe.  "I'm just in complete awe.  You 
are simply incredible.  I would never have imagined ..."
	She continued to stroke his hair, gently.  "Now you know, my 
sweet."
	He looked up into her face, upside down though he was.  "I do 
love you, Becca."
	Her expression changed quickly to surprise.  "What?" she 
exclaimed.  "Surely not still, even if you did before ..."
	"No, still," he said.  "Maybe even more, as ridiculous as that 
sounds."
	She shook her head in disbelief, murmuring "I'll be damned."  
After a few moments, she looked down into his face, brushing her 
hand against his cheek softly, and said "You know, I love you too, 
John."
	He again started to laugh, and stopped quickly.  "You have a 
hell of a way of showing it."
	"Well, you do too," she said, laughing quietly.  She did love 
him, though.  She may have forgotten it for a while, in anger, but it 
was true.  She would never have been so angry, been capable of such 
rage, in fact, if she hadn't loved him, if he hadn't hurt her so much 
with his betrayal.
	"So what now?" he asked, his speech, his very breath labored 
and pained.
	"We should get you an ambulance, my love.  I'm afraid you 
will need extensive medical attention," she said, softly.
	"Yeah, no shit," he said.  "What will we tell the paramedics, 
the doctors, the nurses, everyone else?"
	She thought about this for a moment.  "We could tell them that 
I beat the shit out of you," she said.
	"You could go to jail," he answered.
	"Not if you don't press charges," she said to him, patting his 
head lightly.
	"If that's what you want to tell everyone, then that's what we 
will tell them," he said matter-of-factly.
	She was amazed at his willingness to appease her, but she 
couldn't go through with it.  "No, my dear.  I won't put you through 
that kind of public humiliation.  You've paid enough for your 
indiscretions."
	He breathed a little sigh of relief, saying "Well what then?"
	"How about an accident?" Rebecca suggested.
	"It would have to be one hell of an accident, Bec."
	She laughed.  "Yes, it would.  How about a fall from the roof?"
	"Three stories?  I would be lucky to be alive," he answered.
	"You are lucky to be alive, though," she said, laughing softly.
	"Yeah, I guess that's true," he said, sheepishly.
	"You were up there fixing the cable on my television.  After 
you fixed it, you slipped and fell onto the cement in the parking lot.  
How's that?" she asked.
	"All right," he conceded.
	"We'll have to move you out there, my love," she told him.
	"Oh, God," he said, dejectedly.
	Rebecca pet his head lightly, and set it back on the ground, 
rising to her feet.  She folded one of the long, rectangular, wooden 
dining room tables, placing it flat on the floor next to John's broken 
body.  Being as gentle as possible, she slid his body onto the table, as 
he held his breath, screaming from the pain only when it became 
unbearable.
	"I'll be right back," Rebecca told him, once she had him 
positioned on the table.
	"Where are you going," he asked.
	"Shhh.  Trust me," she said, laughing to herself at the irony of 
her request as she left the room.  She ran into the basement, finding a 
roll of duct tape, then returning to him.
	"I'll try not to hurt you," she said, falling to her knees beside 
him.  "I need to do this to hold you still, so we can move you."
	"All right," he said, bracing himself.
	She ran strips of the tape across his chest, his stomach, his legs, 
struggling to ignore his screams and moans as she performed the task.  
When she was done, she stood behind the table, behind his head, and 
she leaned over to pick it up.  It was incredibly heavy, but she was able 
to lift the end of the table off of the ground.  She dragged him, on the 
table, towards the front door.  Every so often, Rebecca set the table 
back onto the ground, as gently as possible, so that she could rest.
	Eventually, she got him outside, and dragged him around to the 
side of the house, in the parking lot.  She removed the tape, as 
delicately as she could, and he held his breath, his face showing his 
pain, but he did not scream.
	"You'll need to be face down, my sweet," she said softly.
	"Oh, dear God," he said.
	"I'm so sorry," she said, and she rolled him softly, quickly, off 
of the table and face down on the pavement.
	She leaned down and pet his head, gently.  "I'll bring the table 
back in and call for an ambulance.  Have we forgotten anything?"
	"I'm not sure," he said, hesitantly, his thoughts justifiably 
unclear.  "I don't think so ..."
	Rebecca's face fell, as something occurred to her.  "Your nose, 
love.  Your nose."
	"What about it, Bec?" John asked, resting his face against the 
pavement.
	"It's broken, I'm afraid, my sweet."
	"Yes, I'm quite sure it is," he said.  "I don't understand your 
concern."
	"It would be bleeding, then, wouldn't it?  If you had just now 
fallen, I mean."
	"Oh, Becca!  What are you saying?" he said softly, horror in 
his voice.
	"We want them to believe us," she said, struggling to keep a 
straight face.  It was horrible, but it was also more than a little 
amusing.
	"What should we do then?" he asked.
	"My sweet, I'm afraid we have to make it bleed," she 
answered.
	"I was afraid you might say that," he groaned.
	She dropped to her knees beside his head, stroking his hair 
gently.  "I'll try not to hurt you.  I promise.  Are you ready?"
	"Oh, God, Bec, don't wait until I'm ready.  Just do it," he 
pleaded.
	She smacked his nose, lightly, with the back of her hand, and 
he screamed out in pain, tears welling up in his eyes, but his nose did 
not bleed.  "It's not bleeding," she told him.
	"Oh, shit," he said, struggling to deal with the pain he felt.
	"Let's just forget it," Rebecca said, petting his head.
	"Good," John answered, closing his eyes, resting his head on 
the pavement.  Rebecca seized the opportunity, and smacked him in 
the nose again, harder this time, causing him to scream and shake from 
the pain.  This time his nose started bleeding.
	"Damn it, Becca!" he swore.
	She leaned down, kissing his forehead.  "I'm sorry.  I had to.  
I'll go call the paramedics," she told him.  She rose to her feet, and 
dragged the table back inside with her.  When she got inside, she 
dashed to her room and called an ambulance, crying hysterically, 
telling the dispatcher that her boyfriend had fallen from the roof, three 
stories down, to be exact.
	Rebecca stayed by John's side until the paramedics arrived.  
Once they did, she stood back from him, sobbing as they lifted him 
carefully on to a stretcher, hooking him up to various equipment inside 
the ambulance, poking and prodding him as he groaned from the pain.
	She rode with him in the ambulance, sitting by him, petting his 
head softly, whispering to him, tearfully.  When they arrived at the 
hospital, John was rushed into the emergency room, and Rebecca was 
directed to the waiting room, the attendants promising that someone 
would be out to give her a report once they better understood the 
situation.  She waited for several hours, with no word.
	Finally, a doctor came to speak with her.  John would be fine, 
the doctor thought, but he was injured extensively.  His right arm was 
broken, as was his left leg, and two of his right toes.  His left hand was 
broken in at least eight places, probably because he tried to use it to 
break his fall, the doctor speculated.  John's left arm was dislocated 
from the shoulder.  His pelvis was broken in two places.  Five of his 
ribs were broken.  Oh, and his nose was broken, too.  
	The doctor said that John had been very lucky, considering the 
length of the fall.  He said that he was a bit surprised that there had not 
been more blood, frankly, more scrapes, bruising, cuts.  Everyone was 
different, however, and without actually seeing the fall, the doctor said 
that he could not be sure exactly how John had landed.
	John would probably make a full recovery, the doctor guessed, 
except perhaps for his left hand.  The broken bones would heal, but 
there were so many of them, and John's hand had been crushed so 
severely by the impact, that he might not regain full mobility in that 
particular appendage.  His recovery would be lengthy.  He would be 
bedridden, for the most part, for at least a couple months.  He might be 
able to return to classes in the fall semester, but probably in a 
wheelchair.
	"Can I see him?"  Rebecca asked.
	"In the morning," the doctor told her.  "He was in tremendous 
pain, so he's pretty heavily sedated right now.  He is sleeping, albeit 
somewhat fitfully."
	"Poor thing," Rebecca said, her eyes welling up with tears.
	"Can you reach his family?" the doctor asked.
	"Yes, of course.  I'll call his parents immediately," Rebecca 
told him.
	"Good.  Get some rest, and come back in the morning."
	Rebecca called John's parents, telling them about John's 
accident, explaining his condition, assuring them that the doctor had 
said he would be fine.  They thanked her, told her they would come 
tomorrow, and told her what a wonderful girl she was.  When she 
finished speaking with them, Rebecca drove back to the house, 
changed clothes, and picked up a few things.  She then returned to the 
hospital, sleeping in the waiting room, and her presence did not go 
unnoticed by the doctors and nurses on duty.
	John's parents arrived in the morning, and Rebecca welcomed 
them tearfully, returning their hugs, their kisses.  The three of them 
were allowed to visit John for a while that morning.  He looked 
terrible, casts and bandages all over his body, his breathing labored, 
but he seemed in good spirits.  He quietly recounted the story of his 
fall, smiling sheepishly at his carelessness, but cautious not to laugh.  
Laughing was incredibly painful.
	Rebecca spent the day with John's parents, and they thanked 
her again for everything that she had done, told her how much she 
meant to John, remarked on what a special girl she was.  The three of 
them were allowed to visit him again that afternoon.
	John's parents stayed in town for several days.  Rebecca 
offered to prepare a room at the sorority house for them, for which 
they were grateful, but they decided instead to stay at a hotel.  The 
three of them spent their days at the hospital, visiting John when they 
were allowed to do so.  Rebecca took some time off from her job.
	After almost a week, the doctors discharged John, and his 
parents took him home with them.  They had prepared their van to 
transport him.  He stayed home with his parents all summer, spending 
most of his time in bed.  Rebecca visited him faithfully on weekends, 
and called virtually every day to see how he was doing.
	Reluctantly, his parents agreed that he should return to school 
for classes in the fall.  He would use a motorized wheelchair, for the 
time being.  Crutches might have been enough, if he had only a broken 
leg, but with the damage to his pelvis, ribs, and shoulder, it would be 
several months more before he could operate crutches.  Rebecca 
promised to take good care of him.  His fraternity brothers promised to 
help him, as well, and they arranged for him to have his own private 
room at the fraternity house.
	Rebecca was the model girlfriend, arranging her classes and 
work so that she could help John get to and from his own classes, and 
she took him to his physical therapy sessions regularly.  She often 
spent the night with him at the fraternity, helping him study, helping 
him eat, helping him to bed.  She became very popular with John's 
friends at the fraternity.  They were quite jealous of John, actually, 
because he seemed to have the perfect girlfriend, beautiful, kind, 
caring, loving, attentive.  Many of his friends grew to like Rebecca a 
great deal, and to speak of her with great respect and affection.
	Rebecca's friends, on the other hand, were quite taken aback, at 
first, by her behavior.  Her closest friends at the sorority knew of 
John's affair, and they couldn't understand her loyalty to him.  Rebecca 
did not wish to lose their respect, and so she told a handful of her 
closest friends what had really happened.  When they were reluctant to 
believe her, she convinced John to confirm her story, gently promising 
him that her friends would keep their secret, and would behave most 
discreetly.  
	Once they learned the truth, Rebecca's friends had a newfound 
respect for her as well, and for John too.  Imagine, they said to one 
another, how much they must love one another, that she would be so 
hurt, so enraged, by his infidelity, to have beaten him so.  And that she 
was capable of doing so!  Well, that was amazing in and of itself.  And 
that he, for God's sake, that he would still want to be with her after she 
had beaten him, humiliated him, so badly.  And that he was willing to 
admit what had happened to Rebecca's friends, to protect her from 
their ridicule and disrespect.  He was truly a catch, obviously.  He had 
simply made an immature mistake with that cheerleader tramp.
	Rebecca's friends gossiped amongst themselves when, later 
that semester, Jenny Thompson, the cheerleader tramp, was found 
unconscious on the front lawn of her sorority late one night.  She had 
several broken bones, and her cute little cheerleader nose had been 
broken in two places.  Rebecca denied involvement vehemently to her 
friends, but they knew better.  The campus police, meanwhile, 
concluded that the incident had been an unsuccessful rape attempt.  
One of Jenny's sorority sisters, the one who had found her, had seen a 
tall, thin, masked figure running from the scene.  Jenny had been 
unable to provide an additional description, other than that her 
assailant had been very strong, and very vicious. 
	Rebecca spent most of her free time with John, in his room at 
the fraternity, caring for him faithfully, attentively.  He followed her 
instructions obediently, and allowed her to take care of him.  When 
they were alone together, in his room, with the door closed, he would 
suck her toes, and lick her calves.  It had been his idea.  He had asked 
her if he could.  So, as they sat, alone in his room, she would place a 
bare foot delicately on his shoulder or chest, as he lay in bed, and he 
would suck her toes, sometimes for an hour or more.
	They spoke frequently of how wonderful it would be when he 
had recovered more fully, when Rebecca would be able to beat him 
and humiliate him again.  He wanted it as much as she -- and she 
really wanted it.  Rebecca thought of it often.  Beating John, making 
him cry and beg, had been the most exhilarating, erotic, arousing 
experience of her life, and his too, apparently.  Of course, she would 
be much more careful, from now on.  She had been angry before.  This 
would just be for pleasure.  She could beat him, hurt him, without 
breaking him, damaging him.  There were so many things that she 
could do to him to make him hurt, to make him cry, to make him beg, 
without causing lasting injury.  She couldn't wait.  It would be 
fantastic.