I couldn't believe that it was really happening. We'd broken up and he was moving out. We'd been fighting the whole morning while the removalists took his stuff down to the truck. I shouldn't have been here for this, it was too sad; too much emotion for both of us, and it came out as a fight, as a screaming match.

The morning had started wonderfully. We'd made love when we woke up, as if it was any other day, a day when we were happy together. It was tender and intense, I cried when I came, knowing this would be the last time we would ever do this together.

After that, everything was a mess. But it was almost over now; the removalists were gone, on their way to his new place. In a few minutes he would be gone as well; he had just one more load to take down to his car. Then I would have a bath and try to relax, try to stop crying, try to stop my insides from feeling like they were about to fall out.

I heard the front door open, I rushed to the door, to say goodbye for the last time.

"Goodbye gorgeous," I said, tears streaming down my face. Between sobs, I managed to say, "I love you, I always will."

"Right," he said. "Just not enough, never enough. I wish I knew what it is that you want."

"Don't make it my fault again," I begged. He was looking for a fight still, I wished he could leave our last goodbye to be a sad thing; I didn't want to stand at the door and have another fight.

He let go of the door and it closed behind him, he grabbed me and pulled me to him. He kissed me; it was hard and aggressive, reflecting his mood. It felt all wrong; it should be soft and tender, not angry, not aggressive. I pushed him away from me, hitting him on the chest repeatedly.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said. "Nothing that won't be fixed once you're out that door."

"Kiss me goodbye and I'm gone," he said, as he grabbed me again.

I let him kiss me, I wanted to be kissed. I liked him holding me forcefully, I felt safer than I ever had in my life whenever he held me, but I wanted to be kissed tenderly. I wanted our last moments to be, well not happy, but I wanted them to be anything but angry.

I struggled out of his arms again and pushed him away from me as hard as I could.

"You bitch," he said. "You've always been a bitch, what the fuck did I ever see in you? You're a selfish, self centred, calculating fucking bitch!"

He knew just how to press my buttons, here I was, falling apart trying to say goodbye, and he was abusing me again. I couldn't stand it, it set my temper off, and I wanted to strangle him.

I pushed him, and yelled, "Get out, get the fuck out of my life you cunt. You're still doing it, still twisting everything."

"I'm not doing anything, it's you," he shot back. "It's always been you, no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, it's never been good enough for you, it never will be, it never could be. You're fucked in the head."

I couldn't stand it. "Fucking dickhead," I called him, as I started punching him in the shoulders and chest.

"I won't let you hit me anymore," he said, as he grabbed my hands.

"You're a pitiful excuse for a man, you fucking like it when I hit you!" I screamed.

He pulled me to him again, and tried to kiss me. I jerked my head away from his mouth, but he bit my neck, and when I turned my head back to prevent it, he kissed me, holding my head so I couldn't get away. I struggled, but it was no use he was too strong.

He pushed me up against the wall with his body, pressing his body against me, holding me tight. I couldn't push him off, I couldn't fight back. He put an arm around me, with his hand on my arse. The last thing I wanted was to be felt up, but this was worse, he pulled me against him, so our crotches were pressed together. I could feel his erection pressing against me.

I managed to break my head from his grip, and I said, "You're sick. Fuck off and leave me alone. I never want to see you again."

"It's not over darling. We'll never be over," he said.

He slid his hand down my pants at the back, feeling my arse, pushing a finger into my arsehole. I struggled to push him off, but I wasn't strong enough, and my struggles just seemed to make it possible for him to work his finger further into my arse hole.

"No knickers," he said. "I love that you're such a slut. It turns me on that you are always ready. I want you one last time."

"No! Just go away," I said.

He went to kiss me then, but I moved my face away from him. He twisted my head to face him again, and kissed me, forcing his tongue in to my mouth. He lifted me off my feet then, the finger in my arse pushing further in to me, hurting me. I cried out from the pain.

"Please don't. Please just go," I begged.

"Just one more time gorgeous, I'm sure you're ready. I've never known your slutty little cunt to be dry."

"I just want you to leave," I said.

We got to the bedroom, and he removed his finger from my arse and threw me on the bed. I was crying, I didn't want to have sex with him, not like this, not now, but I knew I couldn't stop him.

He unbuttoned my pants; I didn't have the will to try to stop him. He lifted my legs in the air and pulled my pants down, as he did so I kicked him in the face. He threw me sideways, on to my stomach, straddling me, he grabbed me by the hair, and pushed my face into the bed.

I could feel his anger as his hot breath hit my ear, he said, "I told you not to hit me anymore, that's the last time you'll hit me, ever."

I tried to yell at him, to tell him to fuck off, but my face was pressed in to the bed, and it came out only as a muffled groan. He got off me then, and I lay on my stomach and cried. I didn't even have resolve enough to close my legs, to make even that token effort to show my unwillingness.

I felt him get back on the bed. He lifted me and removed my top. I didn't resist, I just lay limp, and sobbed.

"Roll over," he said.

"No," I replied, but it was muffled by the bed, and I doubt he heard me.

"Roll over," he said again. "Unless you want it in the arse."

I didn't want it anywhere. His attitude infuriated me, he was about to rape me, again, and he expected me to help, to make myself available to him, and he talked about where I wanted it.

I rolled over and said, "You're a fucking animal. I don't want it from you, you're about to fucking rape me you fucking prick."

He moved my legs apart, I tried to kick him, but he caught my feet, and pinned them down.

"You want it, you know you do sweetheart," he said. "I'll bet you're wet."

He put his hand on my vagina, opening my labia, feeling me. I wasn't wet, I didn't want it.

"That's a first," he said. He got off the bed, and took the lubricant out of the drawer. He rubbed it all over his dick. He came back to the bed, pushed my legs apart, and lay over me. There was blood coming from his nose where I kicked him.

He positioned himself between my legs, he was about to enter me. I couldn't stop crying, I had to do something, so I hit him in the face. I wanted to hit him on the nose again, it had to be painful, it was bleeding. I missed though, and punched him in the eye.

"You stupid fucking bitch," he screamed. "I told you not to hit me again!"

He slapped me across the face so hard it rocked my head and left my ear ringing. I could taste blood in my mouth, and I spat at him, hitting him in the face. My spit was red with blood.

"A big man you are, so tough," I said.

He just smiled at me. With one hand he positioned his dick against my opening. He pushed in to me, even though I wasn't wet, he entered me without too much difficulty thanks to the lubricant.

He laughed as he said, "You like it rough don't you?"

"No," I said. "How could I like this, being beaten, being raped?"

"You're wet now, now that we've hit each other," he said.

"That's a lie," I said, even as I realised it wasn't. That the reason he had slid into me so easily was that I was turned on, that I was wet, that my pussy was open and ready.

"Fuck you," I said, and I slapped him across the face as hard as I could.

"That's it, hit me you bitch," he screamed at me as he spat on me.

God, he wanted me to hit him. He made me completely helpless by asking me to hit him. I hated him, and I wanted this to stop. But it felt better and better with every pounding thrust. I was enjoying it, and I hated myself for it.

I slapped him again. I hit him so hard it hurt my hand. I didn't care though, I wanted to hurt him, and I knew that if it hurt my hand it must hurt him even more. Even if he enjoyed it, he would hurt later if I could hit him hard enough, he wouldn't enjoy that.

He was thrusting into me faster now, harder. He was building to climax, I knew the signs. I could feel my own climax building. I felt so strange, my mouth was bleeding, I was being raped, I was crying, but I was about to cum. I was overcome with guilt and shame, which led to rage, and I hit him again.

This time he hit me back, on the other side of my face, the pain was intense, it coincided with my orgasm, cutting it off. Then he hit me again, on the same side of my face again, causing that ear to ring as well, it seemed to release my orgasm, and I came, moaning, arching my back off the bed.

"Such a slut," he said. "You're cumming while I rape you."

He pulled out of me then, and straddled my chest, with his legs pinning my arms. He was going to cum on my face again, like the last time he did this to me. I turned my face to the side; I tried to hide under the pillows. It was no use; with one hand he grabbed me by the jaw, the other hand was stroking his dick.

He forced my mouth open with his fingers, and aimed his cock at my mouth. I could taste the finger he'd had in my arse, coppery. I tried to bite his fingers, but I couldn't, somehow he had my mouth wedged open. He groaned as he came, I felt his cum shoot into my mouth, I tasted it, the saltiness, felt the thick fluid on my tongue. His next shot hit me in the back of the throat, causing me to gag. The next shot missed my mouth, hitting my lips and nose.

He continued to stroke himself as his orgasm diminished, dribbling cum into my mouth and onto my face. He took his fingers out of my mouth, and I was forced to swallow his cum to avoid choking.

He smiled down at me and said, "You're a great fuck, bitch, even when you don't want it."

He got off the bed then, and dressed, and left. I rolled over and cried until I slept.