A renegotiation

Brand was on top of Vanessa. His hand was in her hair, pressing her face painfully against the table, while his elbow was on her back, similarly crushing her chest. His other hand lifted up her skirt behind her, and roughly groped her naked ass and tender female bits, crudely grabbing and pinching and slapping at her.

"Brand? Stop. W-Wait..."

Vanessa tried to close her legs, but Brand slapped her ass hard enough to make her body jerk. Her legs stayed parted.

This was all wrong. She had won. She had gotten the right to say 'No', hadn't she? At least the right to slow down. The negotiating, the offer, the game of chicken, she had earned... something. What had happened to that?

Vanessa touched her hand to her face, and flinched. It - it hurt! Her brow, and... lower, her eye... was it puffy?

Brand had hit her! "You hit me!" It happened so fast, so unexpectedly, she hadn't even known. "You fucking bastard! You hit me!" Vanessa bucked her hips, and tried to raise her head. She was shocked when she righted herself without resistance, with Brand's hand still tangled in her hair. She found herself looking up at Brand and -

Her teeth rattled, the right side of her face burned and stung. Vanessa's hands pushed against Brand, trying to get some space at the expense of her own scalp, trying to defend that same side... the other side got a bonier blow. A backhand, she realized a moment later.

Brand held Vanessa close, angling her face up by her hair, pressing her chest against him with his elbow. Again his other hand was on her bare bottom, and he pressed her hips into his, grinding. His gray eyes stared into hers. "I'll smack you around your house all night long, 'Nessa. Settle your black ass down."

Vanessa spat at Brand's face, "Fuck you! You hear me? Fuck You!" Vanessa slapped at Brand's arms, futilely trying to get some space, "I'm calling the police! You're going down with me, you fuck! You'll never touch me again!"

Another slap to her face painfully refuted her last statement, and Brand let her go. Suddenly. In her struggle to get free Vanessa had put all her weight to oppose Brand, and she fell back immediately on her round posterior.

Her phone. Where was her phone? Brand's shoe dragged across the carpet, and found the phone he had dropped earlier. He scooted it toward Vanessa. Vanessa stared at it, then looked up at Brand.

"It's password protected," she muttered.

"8008. Go ahead. Call the police. 911, if you feel it's an emergency."

A sinking feeling in Vanessa's stomach took her anger with it. She would do it. She would end this. She entered Brand's password.

"Just remember, they're going to take all your money."

Vanessa's hand shook. She found the icon to dial manually.

"Everything. Your retirement fund, your house, whatever you've left for anyone else."

Vanessa dialed '9'.

"You'll get out in a few years with good behavior. Maybe you'll be... 45? 46? 50? Honestly, I have no idea."

'1'

Her shaking threatened to keep her from dialing at all. Just one more.

"A lot less pretty than now, I'd bet. Every woman reaches her limit at some point, and you've been lucky so far, without the stress of prison and prison food and no skin care. You'll be without a penny, a convicted felon, no retirement..."And her daughter... she was only a freshman. To keep going - the amount of debt, and the heartache her girl would endure with her mother behind bars. Would her daughter even speak with her after? Would Vanessa have to beg her for money? She wouldn't be able to - she would be in debt, if she finished at all, "Who will hire you after? Where will you live? Will you even be able to afford an apartment? A trailer? You're pretty comfortable here, Vanessa - will you really spend the rest of your life struggling, grubbing around for any break you can get? What will you do if something comes up? Who will pay?"

She had never wanted to depend on anyone else for money... money. Something that she hadn't worried about in years, but had driven her early life in a kind of frenzy.

Vanessa hadn't finished her call. The backlight of Brand's phone dimmed, and then turned black.

She was such a coward.

"But, it won't end..." She sounded so pathetic. She looked up at Brand. She was whining at him, for him to reassure her - to give her a reason to keep being abused by him, so she wouldn't have to deal with her other reality. She could taste blood in her mouth from where he had backhanded her and her teeth cut her cheek.

Brand stroked a lock of Vanessa's hair, rubbing it between his thumb and fingers, "Of course it will end. It will end when I'm tired of you. Like you said, I have no real incentive to reveal your crimes. When I'm done it'll simply... go away. I'll bet a responsible girl like yourself already has enough squirreled away to live off of, investments that will keep paying, whatever comes."

'Whatever comes'... whatever Brand did to her.

Vanessa got onto her feet.

"Bastard," she whispered.

Brand's shoulders moved. Vanessa flinched, putting her arms in front of her face. His hand quietly snuck past her defenses to gently pat her cheek.

"That's my girl. Let's try 'Sir' or 'Master' around the house instead of 'bastard', hmm? ... or if you're feeling especially appreciative, 'Daddy'." Brand slid his hand down from Vanessa's cheek as he spoke, down her neck, deliberately lingering as if he might squeeze... squeeze the life right out of her. His hand went lower, to her breast where he began molesting it, touching it with his thumb circling her dark nipple.

She would never! ... 'Sir'. She would have to give up something, or likely get hit. Smacked around. Was this really her life?Was this really her?

"Yes, Sir." Vanessa's teeth clenched and her jaw flexed as she **** out the honorific. Brand's hand finally left her chest, and she could breathe again.

"Better. Now, do you want something cold to put on that eye? While I personally think a woman looks quite fetching with a darkened eye, I'm in the minority there. And it looks like you're building up to quite the shiner."

'Fetching'? Vanessa shuddered. How deep did Brand's sadism go? Or was he just screwing with her head again?

"Yes, sir," Forcing the words out like that... it felt like she was ripping away a piece of her soul with them, handing herself over with a smile and a curtsy.

"Then bend yourself back over that table and wait for me."

Ridiculous. Horrifyingly ridiculous. She could just get something cold for herself... but she couldn't, and didn't try. Vanessa put her hips against the dining room table table, bent at the waist, and voluntarily put her naked chest and cheek against the hard, cool wood beneath her, to wait for Brand to come back and...

...And whatever he wanted.

Vanessa told herself not to cry, but one tear didn't listen.