“Opposites were created; a hierarchy was created; intercourse expressed both the opposition and the hierarchy. Intercourse became the “natural” expression of the different “natures” of men and women, each pushed away from having a common human nature by laws that prohibited any recognition of sameness; each pushed into a sexual antagonism created by the dominance and submission that was the only intimacy they shared.”
— Andrea Dworkin, Intercourse.
“What are you doing here?” He dropped the book as she stormed up to him. Her skirt was long but tight, flaring out at the knee. Her blouse was long sleeved, high collared and ever so slightly see through. Her eyes burned behind her black rimmed glasses and her crimson lips were set in a hard line of rage.
She looked so amazing he almost swallowed his tongue. She was everything he had dreamed of seeing when he snuck into the female supremacist library.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” She had a dirty mouth for a librarian.
“I-I-I” He stuttered.
“Y-y-you what?” She mocked. “Shut the fuck up you pasty ass white boy.”
“Y-y-yes Mistress.” She slapped duct tape over his mouth.
“You think I care what you have to say? Your sex has said enough, thank you very much. It’s your turn to be silenced. What makes you think you can come here? Everyone knows there are no men allowed here but still you walk in here like you own the place. What makes you so special, hmm? What makes you so goddamned entitled?”
Her eyes traveled downward and she raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Oh. Right. That.”
She ripped his pants open, letting them fall to the floor. From the desk she grabbed a pair of scissors and knelt. She thrust her hand through the legs of his boxers yanking at the bunched fabric and cutting his underwear off. He shrieked as best he could when the scissors brushed his manhood, but she left him blessedly intact. She laughed, low and haughty grabbing his not quite flaccid penis.
“This?” She scoffed. “This sad little flap of skin entitles you to do and say anything you want?” He tried to protest, to praise her superiority, but could only make sad little noises.
“This makes you a leader, does it?” She dug her lacquered nails into his soft flesh and began to pull. “I think it just allows you to be lead.” She kept hold of his cock and began to walk through the stacks. She lead him, his manhood a leash, his pants hobbling him, to her office. She pushed him to his knees before the desk.
“Look how it leads you.” She hissed while unzipping her skirt. She slowly slid her skirt down past her garter belt, her lace panties, her knee high boots. His cock stood at attention, straining towards her like an excited puppy. “Your body cries out for me even as I treat you like dirt.”
She spit in his face. His cock got harder.
She sat on the desk, spreading her legs so the crotch of her panties was level with his dripping face. He realized with shame that he could not tear his eyes away from her body, the leather of her boots, the lace of her stockings, her garter straps, taught against her skin. And… Of course… Her…
“Is this what you came for?” She asked, voice cloying, then snapping like a trap “Some gash?” Some slit? A little crack?” She ripped the tape from his mouth.
“Say ‘cunt’” She demanded.
“Cunt.” He said, too scared to disobey or even stutter.
“Pig.” She slapped him hard across the face. “You came here to get fucked, didn’t you?”
Her fingers trailed briefly between her legs.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with this if you got it.”
She reached behind her desk to produce a truly intimidating dildo.
“Let’s see how you do with this.”
He attempted to protest and she silenced him with a slap.
“The only time a whore should open his mouth is when he’s giving head.” She shoved the dildo in his mouth. He sucked as though his life depended on it, trying to emulate the porn stars he’d seen. She didn’t seem to appreciate the effort. She only shouted “deeper” and forced his head down, gripping his hair till tears came to his eyes.
“You call that sucking dick?” She demanded, throwing him off her cock. She forced him over her desk, which didn’t require much force at this point. She grabbed the scissors, cutting his shirt open at the back and letting it fall in tatters.
“This is what killers do in those pornographic horror movies you like so much isn’t it? Where all the women are helpless little victims who only exist to be saved, raped or killed by men? You love your helpless little whores, don’t you? Well let me ask you something,” Her nails brushed his erection as she reached down to grab his balls. “Do I look fucking helpless to you?”
“No!” He blurted.
“You’re learning.” She smiled. “Ready to learn more?”
“Shut up.” She threw a book on the desk in front of him. It was Intercourse by Andrea Dworkin.
“Read.” She ordered. He did, for a moment, till she slapped his ass.
“Aloud. Use that pretty little head for once. Either of them.” He read aloud.
“This is nihilism, or this is truth. He has to push in past boundaries. There is the outline of a body, distinct, separate, its integrity an illusion, a tragic deception, because unseen there is a slit between the legs, and he has to push into it.” Behind him he heard leather straps creak against metal fastenings.
“There is never a real privacy of the body that can coexist with intercourse: with being entered. The vagina itself is muscled and the muscles have to be pushed apart. The thrusting is persistent invasion. She is opened up, split down the center. She is occupied–physically, internally, in her privacy. ” He gasped as she filled him but continued to read as she pumped into him, voice stumbling over itself as he found pleasure in the invasion and irony in the words he spoke. He found his arousal building, his cock enjoying the painful friction against the desk.
“There were the great, broad laws; prohibiting sodomy; prescribing fucking in marriage; directing the fuck to the vagina, not the mouth or the rectum of the woman because men have mouths and rectums too; legitimizing the fuck when it produces children; each turn of the screw so to speak heightening gender polarity and increasing male power over women, fucking itself the way of creating and maintaining that power.”
With humiliating complicity he came, body going limp against the hard desk, face resting against the pages of the book, sweat staining the pages.
She pulled out slowly and leaned over to whisper in his ear
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” She smiled
“What?” He asked, and then wished he hadn’t. With a satisfied finality to her voice she said
In the time that followed he had only a few moments to wonder whether or not Ms. Dworkin would approve of this… application of her theories before the librarian threw him, naked and shivering, out of the library.