can't be your superman ;

"Her eyes were upturned, focusing on the stars and trying to put together the few constellations she knew. Tears poured silently from the corners as she tried to gulp down a few breaths of air in between thrusts. Her lips were forcibly parted and her teeth strained at the gums, begging to bite down on the object slithering between her lips. The only sound beside his grunting and inaudible mutterings was the sputtering breath of the girl on her knees. He let out a pleased moan and leaned back against the alley wall, his hands clutching at the ringlets of the whore in front of him. She squeezed her eyes shut as he plunged deeper and her lack of air became even more severe. She began to cough violently and gag, trying desperately to pull him from her mouth; it was useless. He pushed himself deeper as she moaned in pain and tried to pull away. This only won her less air and tighter grips from the fists that had her hair. With her eyes rolling in their sockets, she watched the stars, the alley wall, and his smiling face begin to spin and mold together. Finally, a mouthful of shame rocketed down her throat just before the breaking point. He released her and she fell back, the world still spinning. He grinned and pulled up his briefs, his jeans. With a smug grin, a flash of perfect white teeth in the dark city night, he dropped a twenty on the coughing woman in the dirt. She clutched at it and shook her head, pushing herself up as he walked away. Another day, another dollar."

"She awoke a few minutes before the alarm clock was due to go off. She offered the face of the clock a small smile before rolling over on to her side to peer into the sleeping face of her husband. His eyelids flickered in his sleep and he gave a light sigh. She ran a hand through his dark hair and caressed his cheek as he slept. The smell of last night's love making hung fragrantly in the air. This also made her smile. They were hardly newly weds anymore and there had been the occasional dry spell but last night the vigor had been reawakened; it had been perfect. How long since he had touched her, wanted her, loved her. His eyes opened slowly and smiled back at the face of his wife. He watched the sunlight gently stroke her cheek and brighten her emerald eyes. Suddenly, the alarm clock wailed on the night stand. He gave one last smile then rose from the bed quickly. Within twenty minutes he walked out the front door, his black Lexus car from work idling at the curb. He opened the back door and entered the spacious car as he did every morning, clean shaven and smelling of Old Spice. His assistant smiled brightly at him as he slid next to her. As the car sped away from the house toward the office, he gently slid his hand dangerously high up her thigh and lowered his lips to her delicate neck. His wife lay naked in their bed at home, still smiling from the intimate night with the man she loved. The dance continued."

"She shrieked in pain, begging him to stop, as he shoved the bottle deeper inside of her. It was too far, too far. He groaned with pleasure and drove the neck of the champagne bottle deeper inside her. There was a loud rip followed by a sharp snap. She froze, wide eyed, every muscle of her body tensed. He was alarmed by the sudden noise and withdrew the bottle quickly; it was broken from the neck down. Blood began to pour from between her legs as if a dam had broken. Her body remained tensed as she curled up instinctively and screamed. He stared, dumb founded. Within minutes there was a pool of blood on the cement floor. He bit his lip and paced, slowly pulling on his clothes, glancing down at her as she continued to howl like the wounded animal. Gradually her screams and sobs were quieting; she was losing color. He finally made up his mind. Within seconds he was out the broken window of the tiny decrypted house and on his way back to town. He left her there, where she continued to sob and bleed. The world around her was getting blacker, the angles of the room were less defined. She was slipping away, silently, on the cold floor of the slum in the early morning hours of a hot July night. By morning she'd be just another body. A cold sweat began to ooze from every pore as she realized she was going to die here, alone. She was no one worth remembering, no one worth saving. She began to wail again as this realization slapped her in the face. Alone on the concrete, her body almost floating in the sea of blood draining from her body. She cried long and hard until her terrified cries winded down again into small gulping noises. The iron stench of her own blood and panicked sweat reached her nostrils. For the first time in years she prayed to God, prayed for a way out, for a savior. He left her swimming in her own shame, naked on the unforgiving floor."