The idea then remains a question of apperception. One might look at the issue of tissue damage. Sexual assault, as usually construed, is an act of penetration. The cock, representing an aggressor, weaponlike, is wielded by the rapist as a viscous instrument of punishment and also the pen by which the signature is applied. The victim in this circumstance is then marked. The tissue damage whether vaginal, rectal, nasal or what have you then is more than the mere dross or aftermath of the act of decoupling, the coupling of which is always already becoming the being-for-damage bleeds and bloodied into the decoupling not just of anatomy but also the decoupling of humanity from subject. Here then is the victim as object. The victim as work.
Pornstar nyodene apercus once wrote that the essence of all freedom is encapsulated in the moment of a single, unwanted penetration. She has described her rape at age fourteen as the single most liberating moment of her life. She argues in her autobiography for a naive Hegelian dialectic that takes place in involuntary intercourse. THe rapist master defeats the victim/slave in a contest of wills, and as a result, the victim slave is overcome by a forced carthasis bringing about a total awareness of her own Being-in-the-World. Nyodene says her eyes were opened by how small a thing it was, and she describes looking down at her tattered hymen as the er nurses attempted to staunch the bleeding of her torn rectal tissue and for the first time in her life feeling "completely, terribly, free."
But consider not the act but the aftermath. Consider the tissue damage left. The torn flesh. The signifier of the assault and its concomitant mental scarring. See this then in the decoupling of the coupling whereby the human is transmuted further and indicated in the vacancy of the eye, the ripped tissue, the bloody rectum or vaginal wall. The remnant of seminal fluid as an irritant on the skin. The presence of blood. Here then the typic baptism, the body itself become a hymen torn and the object of the act fundamentally changed.
In the end, the answer is not any answer, but a materielle. A range is provided. Given the available skepticisms, certain answers might be preferred, sine qua non, but apropos of what it is that might this coming cumming becoming should always already signify in the bruise, the abrasion, the tear stain, the swollen lip.
Found then in the hymen, the precision of Nyodene, the flanks of the porcine, the essential animism of the rutting boar spirit seeking not just power but sexual power. This is the direction of the polyamorist, the swinger, the unrepentant deviant. This is the unanalyzed anal apperception of the apparatus, analogous but not coextensive with, the operant conditioning conditioned upon the object by the subject-as-artist found within the subject-as-agent. What is important here is the always already conversion which in various quasi-sanctioned deviances imprints but denies the act of possession, the ultimate undeontologic act of removal of choice. The abnegation of duty. Here is the locus of the apodeitic apodicticity. The pornoeia that while cursed in its sort, while not of a kind with what might otherwise have been set aside as it's clade, might indicate a further path the topography of which might represent in its center a certain compactness of the analytic a posteriori here rendered so essential. What then does this make of the fiction? It makes it nothing.
Fiction does not exist. There is no such thing. Fiction is a fiction perpetrated by papists, jackdaws, nazis, communists, Rotarians, Southern Baptists, Templars, Free Masons, Andy Rooney, and certain fringe elements within the black panther party in order to further their own twisted agenda.
To be sure, there exist things that we call fiction, but the most that can be said of them is that they are not true. They are stories about happenings, goings on, and various and sundry events surrounded by circumstances which have failed to obtain in our universe.
Note: I hold to, of course, a strong Correspondence Theory of truth, because the only opposition to the Correspondence theory I have ever encountered developed either out of Creation Science, Gynocentric Feminism, Radical Afro-Centric Historical Revisionism, Standpoint theory, or Papists, or other similar fields subjected on dubious matter. In short I don't buy it. Just like I don't buy creation science, patriarchal oppression, Egyptian supremacy, the moral superiority of a subjective minority, or the existence of jesus.
As the metaphysician David Lewis has established, The World we live in is little more than a single island universe, a singleton member of the infinite set of all possible worlds. Furthermore, in order for something to be possible in this world, that means it happened in another possible world. Finally, actuality is indexical. I can say I live in the actual world and it is true, but someone else, who lives in a world other than this one can also say it and it is also true. The actual world is the one that the utterance actual is uttered in.
The practical consequence of this is that there is no fiction. Nothing is made up, it is a mere catalogue of possibility. Certainly, Gregor Samsa has not turned into an ungeziefer in this world, but there are an infinite number of possible worlds in which he has. The point is even more obvious with less gifted writers than kafka, such as Proust, Tolstoy, or Flaubert.
Take Dostoevsky, for example, the best of a bad bunch. Certainly, Raskolnikov is not murdering landlords and being subjected to trials in our island universe, but they are indeed doing so, repeatedly, just as Dostoevsky described it, over and over again, in an infinite number of places through out the infinitude of the multiverse.
More importantly, there are counterparts to me that look exactly like I do, who had parents exactly like mine, and whose life circumstances are exactly like mine, who nevertheless change their names to Raskolnikov and proceed to live out the plot of Crime and Punishment in their worlds qua worlds for the rest of their lives. And still more, because these island universes bear no spatio-temporal relation to our own, these things are happening everywhere and nowhere, yesterday and today, and tomorrow and never before and never again and not at all and all of the time, all of the time.
It is a strange and truthful world in which we live.