“There is a moment during rape, when the girl feels the pleasure too”
Dukan’s friends had stated that clearly in his ears several times, but he had doubted, because it sounded impossible. The times he felt the urge, he subdued it. Dukan held himself powerfully against his wish because he couldn’t rape, he couldn’t bare the horror in a woman’s eyes, he couldn’t even stand tears in any lady’s eyes, not to talk of her horrific scream, violent struggle, the defeated sight of her being pinned down, and the utmost unwanted thrusting which was often more like stabbing.
‘How can anyone possibly feel pleasure in between those series of unwanted struggle?’ Dukan would ponder, on many nights while lying on his bed, fighting his urge and imagining a rape scene, his pillow being the victim. It was hard to believe and Dukan soon started his own research concerning that too.
Many of the articles he read supported his friends view, but many of the articles were from unreliable and unpopular sources, so it could be easier said that Dukan had to make his own biased conclusion, from his self-initiated mathematicalised research which invariably fell in support of his friends.
“But how do you get the go ahead? … I mean, how do you overlook the lady’s horror before starting?” Dukan made attempt to ask some of his friends, he wondered how they still felt comfortable to do it. The Responses he got all explained the same thing,
“Be confident in the believe that ‘there is no such thing as total horror in rape’, what we have instead is a delayed pleasure.
You need to overlook the immediate hurt, and foresee the greater pleasure to come. You must handle your prey as a struggling hard worker that would soon attain her success. Once the time of pleasure comes, she stops the unreasonable struggle and finally let’s herself in joyously.”
Dukan then knew that he had gotten enough for the question. Even when his conscience didn’t, logistics did justify his friends reply. For ‘if she struggled and got pleasure, then that is just a reward of her hard fight and not starkly a thing of sorrow’. That sounded just fine!
The only major challenge thereafter, was about whatever it was that gave his friends the lead off. “What gives you total move on, what rings a bell in your ear to start off?” He inquired curiously, neglecting the still small voice warning him sternly.
Maybe girls would have given Dukan listening ears if only he had mustered the courage to speak to them in that line, and maybe Dukan too, would have developed the needed courage if he hadn’t wanted ‘just sex’ with them. If he had wanted proper relationship, he wouldn’t have had any challenge in speaking to any of the ladies he had ever had a crush on but Dukan didn’t want that yet, what he wanted for now, was just what would relieve his pillow of its additional duties.
“What?” Dukan requested that Bayo repeated the solution he just propounded.
“See Dukan, that is just it” Bayo declared, “Once you take marijuana? You are just as fit as a fiddler! Good to go anywhere” He concluded.
Dukan examined Bayo for some moments, it wasn’t as if the naïve man had no foreknowledge of this, neither was he put aback by his friend’s confession. It was only that Dukan couldn’t believe that the same solution he had thought was best was what his friend was now declaring.
Bukky would be his first victim.
She had been his number one crush ever since they were in secondary school, her soft skin and beautiful face were the imagination in his mind, several times when he rigorously rubbed his pillow. The lightness of the pillow’s weight stood solely as a representation of her petite body. But the pleasure from the soft object lacked sufficiency in sound and return effects, so physical approach; which would now mean violence, would just be very much more sufficient.
Luck – or the Devil made Pastor Kingston delay the church members during Bible Study the following Tuesday. When the man refused to vacate the podium at about quarter to Nine, Dukan left to start out on his mission.
He stood behind a tree at the quiet route that Bukky would inevitably take home. There, he took two long sticks of well wrapped marijuana; it didn’t seem more difficult than inhaling the dry hammathan air, since he had already been practicing and when he started feeling the sovereign effect of the leaves, he simultaneously heard the approaching footsteps of his would-be victim.
When the silhouettes got to where he was, Dukan observed that another petite lady had also decided to walk Bukky home.
As their feet scrunched the sand before him, Dukan was tempted to reconsider his next line of action. But he had planned so much for today and didn’t want it all ruined by the presence of a third party and besides, the effect of the drug supplied the necessary confidence.
As if he knew what would happen, Dukan shouted and raced out of his hiding point, he did a very great job at hiding the identification of his voice, thereby horrifying both ladies.
The other lady flew far away from Bukky and she didn’t turn back to see what was happening when Bukky started to shout for help.
Knowing that he had a very short time, because the other lady might have gone to mobilize people against him, Dukan yanked Bukky’s clothes off, followed closely by the ripping apart of her underwear.
As expected, the helpless lady struggled to be freed. She fought so hard that Dukan felt that was quite too unusual for a lady of that petite size. But he didn’t brood over that for too long. She was just an hard worker, and once the pleasure flows, she’d know that the end indeed justifies the means.
When he unzipped his own pants, there was an unusual stillness. She kept her arms wide apart, away from his chest which she had rigorously punched earlier, she stopped fighting, and watched the bastard. It appeared an encouraging watch. Dukan realized finally that this was the moment his friends had told him about – the moment when the ‘she’ feels the pleasure too. Although it came rather too fast than he had assumed, and in fact he was put aback that the moment came before his thrusting. Whichever way, Dukan was keen on reciprocating the pleasure involved by getting his own share too.
He pulled down his own trouser slightly, and with his index finger, found the location for his congealed phallus. He was almost inside her when both hands that had been apart suddenly came together, with a force that seemed too impossible to be, both of her hands met at the centre of them both. The movement seemed to cause an effect that Dukan couldn’t easily understand, until he felt sore and a sweet ticking engulfed amidst bodily pain came through to his brain from his phallus.
Bukky had kept a knife in her bag for such purpose, so when he came out of the bush, she had only reached into her bag for the short sharp object, with which she had now reduced, (if not completely removed) the congealed thick piece of flesh Dukan called manhood.
Dukan let out a loud scream, the feeling of getting forceful pleasure suddenly gave way as both of his hands cupped the remaining bleeding part of his manhood.
Bukky pushed and hurries off him quickly; she gathered her things as fast as she could and dashed out of sight, throwing the piece she had just cut off him at him disgustedly.
As Dukan yelled and rolled in the harmatthan dust, there was almost nothing but pain in his mind; and he’d forever live with the effects of the quest for quick pleasure…
“There is a moment during rape, when the girl feels the pleasure too”