Friday Night of Rapey Goodness

He already had me down on the floor, was already inside me, when he told me to struggle and try to escape.  He told me he wanted it to be rape. 
 I tried to wiggle away, but it was no good, I was completely pinned and helpless.  Plus, it felt SO good, I didn't really want to escape. (such a bad victim!)  
When I kicked his legs and pushed vainly at his chest, he grabbed the back of my hair and pinned me to the ground.   I couldn't move without ripping my hair out so I stayed still until he released that grip to go for my hand.   He tried to take my hand in his, and I knew he was aiming for the pain pressure point there so I flipped my hand all over the place trying to avoid him.  It didn't do any good-  he got the hand anyway and squeezed that tender point until I yelped.   

He told me I wasn't getting an orgasm until I escaped.   I twisted and writhed, only making it feel better for him, not getting away at all, for long minutes.   Then somehow I scooted on my back to the edge of the carpet, (about a foot from our starting spot) and he pulled back and yanked both my legs toward himself, burning my back along the rug.   He threw my legs up in the air and came down on me hard and deep, hurting my insides with banging up against them too deep.   I was trying to struggle once more when he said fiercely:

"You whore, you slut, you cocksucking cunt, you better hold still and get raped".

All the fight when out of me and I went still, though I didn't know if this was still part of the game or if he was serious. 
 He sounded serious.  I obeyed.   

After more deep fucking, my legs still over his shoulders, he pulled out and came all over my stomach and breasts.   

We lay back together on the floor, and I asked him if I should still be trying to escape.   He said if I were smart, now would be the time to kill him with a sharp spike and get away.  
I was actually shocked at that, but said I could never do that, that I was for sure afflicted with Stockholm Syndrome and the worse he treated me the more I'd love him.  

This must have been some kind of invitation (!!) for him to start slapping my face, harder and harder, just on one side because the other cheek was pressed flat on the floor, my eyes squinched shut.  Finally he told me to come, but he kept me slapping until I'd had multiple orgasms.   

I don't think escape is all it is cracked up to be anyway.