ENDING TWO

"Go take a shower," Rick commanded. "Clean off your makeup and come back out when you're done. Don't put the clothes back on." Candace's shoulders slumped ever so slightly in disappointment as she turned to enter the bathroom. Rick felt a slight pang of regret. He'd wanted so badly to fuck her. But he knew he was doing the right thing. Rick waited on the bed while Candace showered, thinking about how best to get out of this. He had to make sure Candace stayed away from him from now on. Candace re-emerged after half an hour, her face clean and a towel wrapped around her midsection. She stood in front of Rick with the dazed look that indicated she was under the drug. "Lie down, " Rick instructed her, getting up from the bed. She obeyed promptly, stretching out along the length of the bed. "Close your eyes." She complied. Rick sighed, preparing himself. It would be a rush job, but it should hold. "Candace, I want you to relax and focus on the sound of my voice." This had better work, Rick thought to himself. "You're feeling very sleepy. You realize now that what you've been doing, the way you've been behaving, is wrong. You don't want to keep on being a slut. You want to go back to your old life, don't you?" "Mmmm... Mmmmm... Yeah..." she murmured. Rick breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God it was working. "You don't want to be dominated. You don't want me to be your master. You want to be in control of your own life again, the way it was before you met me." "Yes... before..." "So why don't you just forget about me. Forget all about me. Never think of me again." "Never..." "Tomorrow morning you'll wake up, and everything will be just the way it was. You won't need to be dominated by me anymore. You won't ever try to tell anyone else about what's happened between us, and you won't ever try to hurt me. Understand?" "Mmmm... yes..." "Now sleep." Candace's head lolled, and her breathing deepened. Rick smiled. He'd done it. It had been so easy. Things were taken care of. Now he had to go see someone. Someone very important.

Rick rang the doorbell, barely able to contain himself. Seconds later, it opened, revealing a damp Jennifer, a towel wrapped around her body. "Rick! What are you..." Rick interrupted her, pulling her up into his arms and kissing her passionately. She was stunned for a moment, but quickly responded, her tongue eagerly meeting his. Rick left her lips, his mouth treaveling downward across her neck, nipping. massaging. "Rick... let me at least finish drying off before we... oh!" Her sentence was cut off by Rick's tongue licking the valley between her breasts. Her back arched as she pressed against his tantalizing mouth. "Oh... Rick... Rick... what... why..." Rick paused long enough to say, "I had to, I just suddenly had to," before returning his attention to her body. Jennifer reached out to give the door a shove, slamming it shut. "Oh, God, honey..." she groaned, "Take me to bed... Take me to bed." She pulled herself onto Rick, wrapping her legs around his waist. Rick carried her down the hall before realizing he didn't know where he was. He paused his kissing. "Where the hell is the bedroom?" Jennifer giggled uncontrollably. "First on the left." Rick carried Jennifer in and deposited her on the edge of the bed. She unbuttoned his shirt while he unzipped his pants. His clothes fell away and she lay back on the bed, Rick crawling on top of her. Rick unwrapped the towel, exposing Jennifer's nubile body. Drops of water clung to her skin. Rick softly, slowly licked her stomach, drinking up the beads, which shimmered as Jennifer's stomach rose and fell with her breathing. "Oh, honey, honey... that feels so goooood..." Rick slowly traced a curving path down her stomach, past her navel, to the top of her bush. He moved down to her clitoris, flicking it gently with his tongue. Jennifer groaned at each contact. "Oh, God, Rick, do it... please do it..." Rick pulled himself up until he was lying over her, their eyes locking in anticipation. "I love you," she whispered. "I love you, too." Rick entered her gently, causing her to gasp in pleasure. "Oh, God, honey... yes... please..." Rick slowly began to move, savoring every little gasp Jennifer gave, every groan of pleasure. God, he loved her. His lips met hers, tenderly caressing. They climaxed together, holding onto each other like they were the last two human beings on Earth. When they had ridden the wave of pleasure together, Rick slid out and lay down next to Jennifer. They looked into each other's eyes and saw contentment. Bliss.

Candace paced around the living room of her apartment, her entire body tense. Something was wrong. What? Three days ago, she'd woken up in the morning, unable to remember what had happened the previous night. Or the day before it. Or the month before that. She'd stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, finding some odd items lying on the floor.

A pink halter top, a couple sizes too small for her. That sort of floozy item was hardly her style anyway. There was something sticky staining the neckline. She sniffed at it. The smell was familiar, but she couldn't place it. A black patent-leather miniskirt, obscenely short, with a zipper on one side. It smelled like... like... like she did after masturbating. A pair of bright red pumps with impossibly long heels - five inches! The heels were sharp spikes. Candace realized upon inspecting the heels that her ankles felt funny - stretched, almost. With a mounting dread, she slipped the heels on and stood. She didn't lose her balance and topple to the floor - to her alarm. Her body knew how to stand in these heels. Even more alarming was the fact that her ankles felt more comfortable in the shoes. She had read about women's tendons shortening if they spent too much time in high heels - had even written about it for the magazine. Jesus, what had she done? A pair of lage silver hoops lay on the counter. Earrings. Candace raised a hand to her earlobe, knowing what she would find. A puncture. She had had her ears pierced. Candace took several deep breaths to calm herself. She realized that she was naked. She needed to get dressed, drink some coffee, take stock of the situation. She walked out of the bathroom to her closet to find something to wear. Opening the closet, she stifled a gasp. The closet was filled with clothes. Lace bustiers, mesh bodysuits, leather boots... Oh, God! Candace ran to the phone. Only when she got there did she realize that she still had the heels on. So her body knew how to move in them. Just one more fact pointing in an ugly direction. She flipped through her address book. Several years ago, she had done a story on women in police work. She still had contacts. She dialed. "Forensics. Nikki Harper." "Nikki, this is Candace Cunningham." "Hey, Candace. What's up?" "Listen, I need a favor, Nikki. Discreetly." She'd followed Nikki's instructions to the letter, and FedExed the materials to her. Nikki had called back two days later, informing her that she had not been raped, or that if she had, the rapist had not ejaculated inside her. The semen on the halter top belonged to a man (No shit, Candace had thought), probably a Caucasian in his twenties or thirties. Nikki had been unable to find a match in the national database of sex offenders. Which left Candace with nothing. Clearly, some tramp had been living in her apartment, wearing those clothes and being ejaculated on. It also seemed pretty clear that she had been the tramp. Candace shuddered at the idea. Repugnant. She'd found some whitish residue in spots on her bedroom carpet. Semen, likely. She'd taken a few days off from work to collect herself. She'd held off on calling the police. The idea of calling in men to find out what had happened repulsed her. She wanted to track down the bastard herself. Candace flopped down in resignation and shuffled through the day's mail. Her paycheck. (At least she'd been working over the last month.) A phone bill. A whole foods catalog. A phone bill. Candace tore it open eagerly. Sure enough, the second page contained a list of all the numbers she'd called in the last month. This was an optional feature the phone company offered. She'd taken it, as a precaution against forgetting an important number. Now it was going to pay off. Candace scanned the list, identifying the numbers she didn't recognize - three of them. She fired up her computer and used a nationwide address-book CD-ROM to eliminate two of them - a bookstore and the local "natural foods" grocery store. The final number belonged to a Logan, Richard W. Candace stared at the name for a full minute. Richard Logan. Something seemed familiar about the name. Rick Logan. More familiar. The CD-ROM gave his address. It was time to pay Mr. Logan a visit.

For the third time in as many minutes, Candace changed stations on the radio of her rental car. Damn, this was boring. She kept her eyes glued to the front door of the house across the street, but her mind wandered. She'd been waiting for five hours for this Logan asshole to get home. It was ten o'clock now. Likely he was out of town. What if he didn't live here anymore? How would she find out? Candace had seen the mail delivered earlier that day; she could always check the mailbox. Earlier in the day, there had been too much chance of getting spotted. Now, though, it was dark. No one was likely to see. Her train of thought was interrupted by a car pulling into the driveway. Candace lifted a pair of binoculars to her eyes, examining the car. The driver was a woman, with a male passenger. The man got out, his face hidden from Candace's view as he walked slowly around to the driver's window. He bent over, kissing her deeply. The man's frame, his walk, were familiar. The kiss broke and the man stood up. The car backed out of the driveway and the man turned to watch it go. His face was illuminated in the glare of the streetlights. It was him. Memories flooded into Candace's mind, causing her to tremble. The binoculars feel from her hands. She'd been hoping against hope that she hadn't done what all the evidence seemed to point to. But she had. The memories were back. Dammit. That bastard. Manipulating her like that. He wouldn't get away with that. She'd hurt him. She'd make him pay.

Rick pulled up to Jennifer's apartment. He adjusted his tie carefully in the mirror before leaving the car. Everything had to be perfect tonight. He patted the pocket of his coat, feeling the bulge of the engagement ring. He knew he should have no reason to be nervous. Of course Jennifer would marry him. But still, he was jittery. The door was ajar. And Jennifer was usually very energy-conscious. Rick pushed it open, knocking as he came. "Honey? I'm here!" At the lack of a response, Rick stepped into the living room. "Jen? Jen? It's me!" Rick caught a glimpse through the half-open bedroom door of her leg and foot in an elegant dress shoe through the half-open bedroom door. "Honey? Are you all right?" He pushed the door open and stepped in. His eyes bulged. Jennifer sat in the chair, dressed in a fancy evening gown. Her head hung limply on one shoulder and a river of blood flowed from a gash in her neck down the front of the dress to a pool on the floor. "Oh, God, no, no, no," Rick muttered as he raced forward. He placed his fingers on the side of her neck, searching desperately for a pulse. Nothing. He shifted his hand desperately. Somewhere, somewhere. She had to still be alive. She couldn't be dead yet. "Hello, Rick," came a familiar voice behind him. Rick spun around in fear. But the carpet was slick with Jennifer's blood; Rick's shoe slipped and he fell on his hip. He saw Candace standing above him, a bloody knife in her hand. She started to move toward him, knife raised, but checked herself. "Looks like you won't be able to play with your newest little toy tonight." Rick's rage boiled inside him. "You bitch!" he screamed. "She did nothing to you!" "No, but she meant something to you. I thought you should feel some pain before I killed you. Good-bye, Rick." She took a step forward, brandishing the knife, and stopped. Her face twisted, as though she was struggling with something. "Let me make it clear to you exactly what you put me through..." she began. Rick spun on his hip, his foot lashing out at Candace's ankle. There was a solid thunk of connection, and Candace tumbled onto the floor. Rick scrambled desperately to his feet, his shoes sliding on the blood-slickened floor. He reached his feet only to find that Candace had regained hers and was again brandishing the knife at him. She lifted it swiftly, as though to stab him. Rick cowered, but Candace stopped in mid-swing. The same twisted look of conflict crossed her face again. "You're going to listen to what I have to say, Rick..." Suddenly Rick's terror-fogged brain understood. The post-hypnotic suggestion he'd given her protected him. "You can't hurt me." Candace laughed in what appeared to be genuine amusement. "Of course I can, Rick." "Then do it." She froze for several seconds before speaking. "Not just yet. I want you to understand..." "Kill me," Rick stated calmly. Candace stood still, her face quivering. "Kill me, bitch!" Rick screamed. Candace remained motionless. Rick climbed slowly to his feet. Candace watched, her expression becoming one of panic. Rick stepped in front of her, calmly prying the knife from her grasp. He threw it across the room. "You goddamn fucking bitch!" he screamed, slapping Candace hard in the jaw. The blow sent her reeling across the room, stumbling. Rick walked over, grabbing the stunned woman and hurling her into the wall. "I left you the way you were. You should have been happy with it," he snarled. "You... you bastard," she whimpered. Rick slapped her again, but she continued. "You used me... you made me into... into..." "Into a slut?" Rick asked. "I sure did, bitch," he yelled, slapping her again as he spoke the word "bitch". "I spent two months taking you out to dinner every weekend, buying you food at those disgusting vegetarian restaurants, putting up with your talk about how persecuted women were. And what did I get in return? Nothing. Not a single fucking kiss." Candace had struggled back to a standing position now. Rick hit her again, causing her to fall to the floor before continuing his tirade. "Yeah, I made you into a slut. You were a good little slut, too, prancing around on those heels, pouting your lips, wearing tight clothes. You looked like a cock-hungry whore. You were always eager to take my cock in your mouth and my jism on your face." Tears were streaming down Candace's face now. She had stopped struggling and curled up in a fetal position on the floor. "But you know what?" Rick asked. "I never fucked you. Never. I guess it was a mistake. A bitch like you needed a good fucking." Rick suddenly became aware of his erection. Half of him felt shame, but the other half was horny. The dark half won. "Well, now you're going to get fucked, bitch," he growled, sinking to his knees. Candace shrieked in terror and tried to stand, but Rick grabbed her arm and yanked her back to the floor. His anger consumed him and gave him superhuman strength, and the posthypnotic suggestion he'd given to Candace kept her from trying to hurt him back. She was powerless to resist him. A part of his mind shouted that what he was about to do was wrong, but it was drowned out by the torrent of rage flowing through his mind. "No... no... please..." Candace pleaded. "Shut up, bitch." Rick manhandled Candace, positioning her facedown in front of him. He picked up the knife lying next to him on the floor and used it to cut open Candace's jeans, revealing her white cotton panties. He pulled at the panties, tearing them easily away from her pussy. Dry. Good. He wanted her in pain. Rick reached out to grab her crotch, squeezing hard. He felt her shudder at his touch. "You're going to get it now, bitch. The good hard fucking you've always needed." Rick unzipped his pants, his erect cock springing out to point at Candace. She lifted her head enough to catch sight of it, and began to scramble desperately away from him. Rick's hands shot out, easily grabbing hold of her hips, lifting them up to place her ass in front of his crotch. One knee was sufficient to pry her legs apart, spreading her cunt wide. The cunt he'd lusted after for so long. Rick slammed his hips forward brutally, impaling the screaming bitch on his monster erection. His cock hurt at the dry entry, but he knew she was in far greater pain. Candace continued to struggle ineffectively, pinned by Rick's shaft. Rick waited until Candace's scream had dwindled to a low whimper before moving. She shrieked as he slowly pulled his cock halfway out, feeling the rawness of her dry pussy. He then slammed it back in, his cockhead touching her cervix. Candace screamed again. "Take it, you bitch! Feel my prick in your cunt!" She continued to strain against his grasp, unable to escape. "This is what it feels like to get fucked by a MAN!" Rick continued to rape her brutally. After several strokes, he felt a wetness on his cock. Maybe the bitch was starting to enjoy it, he thought. He picked up the pace of his motion. One hand moved forward to grab the slut's neck, shoving her face brutally to the floor. Candace kept fighting, but with her ass in the air, her cunt impaled on Rick's cock, and her face being mashed into the floor by Rick's hand, she had nowhere to go. After a minute, her struggles subsided. Rick laughed out loud when he heard her start to groan in time with his thrusts. "You're just like any other bitch, Candace. All that talk about a woman's struggle for equality, about male domination of culture, about deep-rooted sexism is all fine and good when you're dressed. But once you're naked on the floor with a cock up your cunt, you're just like any other bitch. All you want is to be fucked. I guess women really are all whores." Candace didn't reply, except to begin thrusting back at his cock with her hips. Rick was hysterical; his mortification at Jennifer's death had been subsumed into rage against Candace. A rage that he was now venting most effectively. He almost believed that if he raped Candace hard enough, it would somehow bring Jennifer back. He knew it was ludicrous, and yet he somehow believed. Rick felt Candace's cunt squeezing him tight. And the bitch had tried to pretend she hadn't wanted it! "Slut! Bitch! Whore!" Rick screamed. He slammed his cock forward one last time and felt wads of come explode from its head. Candace whimpered as her cunt filled with Rick's jism. It overflowed, and sticky lines of come dripped from her pussy to the floor below. Rick gloried in the feeling of power over this bitch. He should've shoved his cock up her snatch a long time ago. Rick withdrew his cock, its exit from Candace's pussy occuring with an audible pop. Candace slumped unconscious to the floor. Rick collapsed beside her, drained of all his stamina. He felt delirious with power. He'd shown that stupid cunt who was the boss. He looked down at her unconscious body where it lay next to him, legs spread, come dripping from her cunt. Bitch. He looked up and across the room, to where Jennifer still sat in the chair, head lolling on one shoulder, mouth open, eyes vacant, throat slit. Still dead. Rick began to cry. A few tears turned quickly into loud sobs wracking his body. His face puffy and red, Rick began to pound the floor in misery. "Dammit!... Dammit!... Dammit!..." He sat there, crying and cursing himself. He was still doing it ten minutes later when the police arrived.

Candace awoke to find herself lying on a soft but firm surface that bumped occasionally. Her vision was a blur. Dark shapes moved against a light background above her. She tried to sit up, but found herself restrained by straps around her midesction. "Easy... easy..." came a woman's voice. "You're all right, Ms. Cunningham. Everything's fine." Suddenly the world snapped, and everything was clear. A uniformed policewoman was speaking. Two men in white uniforms watched her, fiddling with various pieces of medical equipment. With a start, Candace realized she was in the back of an ambulance. "You're safe now, Ms. Cunningham," the policewoman was saying. "The man who raped you is in custody now, and he'll be in prison soon. We got a sample of sperm from you, and that'll be enough evidence to nail the bastard." Candace's mind was reeling. "But... but... what about..." She tried to sit up again, but the restraints held her. The policewoman's face took on a downcast expression. "The medics weren't able to save your friend, Ms. Cunningham. I'm sorry." "Fr... Friend?" "Ms. Cipriani? Jennifer Cipriani? Don't worry, we'll get him for that, too. His fingerprints are on the knife. The bastard's going to get life, at least." Candace blinked a few times before her dizzy mind sorted it out. Rick had used the knife to cut... They thought... Candace began to laugh. The medics exchanged worried glances, obviously thinking she had gone hysterical. That made her laugh even harder. One of them quickly stabbed a syringe into her arm. As the tranquilizer seeped through her body, Candace relished her victory. She certainly hadn't planned to come out of this alive. She hadn't even been thinking about anything beyond killing Rick and his floozy. She'd have to think up a story about what she'd been doing in the apartment, but that wouldn't be hard. She was still laughing when she fell unconscious again.

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