Didn't You Hear Me?

I said but one word,
over and over again.

Just "No," simply put,
apparently even more simply
forgotten.

Your grip about me,
off-balance,
suddenly all of this,
my world,
it sways
and you,
meeting each word
with a thrust,
a hand uprooting me.

I yell, you laugh,
I bargain, you smirk and
unbutton my pants,
but if you think it's over -
it's not.

I know it was arrogance alone
that made me need to grind
against the grain of my own spirit:

"I've got my period, we can't!"

I excuse you - god
more fool me,
vain creature that I am:

"You're drunk, we shouldn't." 

I felt you curl your thumb
about my tender throat,
and then,
oh then,
my strength was moot.

"I can't, just can't.
I'm not this type,
I leave tomorrow, you know?"
As if you care.

My focus lost
in the very moment
I should have remembered
exactly the steps
to this dance macabre.

If only I had stayed
one step ahead,
or even just -

"You're a fucking dyke aren't you?!"

No, that I'm not
but that you know.

"So why won't you...?"

Perhaps because -
Wait,
was I somehow
not clear?

No,
how silly, I forgot:
I am just a rag doll
pinned and pressed
and you are pleased,
so very satisfied
as you force my breath
still deeper underground.

It's not worth it,
not now,
to do anything but gasp
and clamp down hard
as I hear you laughing,
grunting, watching
with your deep, dead eyes.

You drain me,
slamming my brain into my skull,
there's a penny on my tongue.
I become merely a pain in the neck,
and as you say,
a bitch.

Oh, that's right,
I dared to make a fuss,
and worse,
refuse.

Heaven forbid
you should ever 
get anything less
than full service -

So where's my goddamn tip?

Now, you tell me,
you held the key,
so what was I to do?

Is there some magic alchemy
I might perform
wherein this bruise might show 
not my weak will
but yours?