‘How long what?’I croak. I know full well what he means but I cannot bring myself to acknowledge the shame.
He laughs cruelly and moves towards the table where I’m seated. ‘Have you been fucking the stable boy?’ His blue eyes now fixed firmly on me, I winch from their dilation; and from the harshness of his words.
My response is caught in my throat; I have no idea how I’m going to contend with this. So I clench my jaw and let my tears drip onto the table.
‘Answer me woman!’ He bellows, smashing his heavy fist down onto the table top.
I finally meet his penetrating gaze; many years have passed since I have witnessed such fever cast out from those eyes. I bring the glass bottle back up to my lips for another swig of the rum; I’m already feeling light headed from its effects. But before the delicious liquid strikes my tongue Kalcha abruptly knocks the bottle from my hand, it smashes into a thousand pieces by the hearth; I stare at the remains, as if expecting the resolution to all life’s troubles to emerge from the shards; they do not, I must find my own answers. ‘That was rather foolish, and a waste of good liquor.’ I say, my tone somewhat slurred. I can hear his erratic breathing, ragged from anger; I should try to calm him, soothe him, tell him what he wants to hear, alas my drunken heart is not in agreement with my rational mind.
He grabs me roughly by the wrist, dragging me to my feet. His grasp is strong and hurting, and I can see the wetness shining in his eyes; I pray silently to the gods, requesting no fallen tears. I have never once seen him cry; he is a strong man, a man with great pride in his self discipline; in his mind’s eye crying is a sign of weakness, and I do not want to be the origin of his failing. ‘Why?’ He gasps. ‘Why destroy what we have?’ His gigantic chest is heaving, and I have to force myself to meet his judging gaze.
‘What exactly do we have Kalcha?’ I question, studying his furrowed brow.
‘We have nothing anymore! You’ve broken it.’ He pushes me violently backwards; I slam into the flimsy table causing it to scrape across the floor. I cry out from the shock, and steady myself, propping myself upright with my hands on the table top.
‘What we had was already broken! Do you not see? Every day passes in remoteness, our lives subsisting in tedium. We are two separate entities; I know not of your longings or your dreams! And you know not of mine. Coldness is what exists in this house, a loveless passionless home that declines to mend and to restore what was once so tender.’ I move towards him, my tears streaming. ‘Do you remember how we once were? The sensations we shared, they were so strong; like a constant reminder of how alive we were. I have since forgotten what that felt like.’ I reach out to touch his broad shoulder, but he jerks away from the contact; his eyes full of ire.
‘I do not want to hear your wretched excuses! You are mine and you let another defile you. This is a misdeed, and the gods shall punish you.’ He says the words detachedly, as if reciting a scripture. ‘People are laughing at me, saying I am fool for marrying such a whore.’
This cuts me, and I stare down at the floor. ‘I am not a whore.’ I say this defiantly, for I do not feel I am deserving of such a title. ‘I have done you wrong, and for that I am truly sorry, but I feel I have acted in a way that is true to me. I am a human being, Kalcha, who yearns for fulfilment and joy and indulgence and everything else that’s missing here!’
‘You disrespect me; as if fucking another is not slight enough, you now take it upon yourself to criticise me as a husband, as a man!’ He’s squaring up to me; the mass of his frame towering over me, intimidatingly.
‘I do not wish to the lay blame on you, for I have failed as a wife, and we have failed as a unit. You must have known we were in ruin? Do you not long for more?’ I plead with him to understand.
‘What I long for is a wife who does not fuck other men! Who stays true to me, who does not shame my name publicly then insult my prowess privately! You utter these trivial words to me, such as indulgence and fulfilment; what about respect and responsibility? I imagine those ideas never entered into your mind while that little shit was dishonouring you!’ He has his strong hands clamped about my shoulders, I feel his hot breath on my face; I am suitably terrified by the timbre of his voice.
I in no way felt dishonoured by Ranril, he does not understand. ‘He made me feel alive, truly alive! You care not of my wants!’ I scream into his face; immediately regretting the outburst. He swiftly back hands me, hard; the side of my face is burning and the intense stinging sensation forces out more tears. His grip has loosened so I struggle free and gawp at him in disbelief.
‘They are right, you are a whore.’ He says sadly.
‘No! I am a woman who wants to be satisfied by a man who can comprehend a woman’s body as more than a vessel for their own grunting thirty seconds of gratification!’ I do not care anymore, I shall tell him exactly how I feel. ‘Did you know that women can orgasm too? It’s not just a myth from the bygones.’ I have never seen him this angry, his face is burning, he’s clenching and un-clenching his fists. Good, he needs to feel some form of extreme emotion. ‘Ranril is aware, oh so very aware.’ I say mockingly; a sly grin spreading across my face.
‘Shut up! You filthy woman, shut up!’ He’s charging towards me like a bull, and before I have time to move he’s on me; grabbing me by the hair and pulling my face towards his. ‘I want you out of my house, you fucking little bitch I want you out... You will find no friends in this town, you are to leave Vesale. And what’s more you can take your worthless stable boy with you; you’ll see what use his cock is then, out in the wilds, no roof and no protection; you’ll soon realise the full extent of your mistake.’ He hisses into my ear.
‘On the contrary, if I am rid of you and your impotence I believe I will be benefiting greatly!’ I stare back deeply into his eyes, challenging a rebuke.
He yanks my hair harder, causing me to gasp as my head is tilted further back. ‘Impotence? You little slut, I’ll show you impotence.’ He’s pushing me back towards the table, all the while his eyes piercing mine. I feel the wood of the table collide with the small of my back.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask, half in terror and half in thrill.
‘Teaching you a lesson.’ He rumbles in my ear. I try to push him away, but he is too sturdy and laughs at my attempt. I lash out at his face with my nails, try to kick at his shins, I’m wriggling and straining against his grasp; but it is all to no avail. He spins me around, my hair tangled around his arm; I know I cannot escape his clutches but nevertheless I still try. He picks me up, with his arms round my waist; I’m aware that my buttocks are pressed firmly against his groin and I’m kicking out like a demented foal.
I’m screaming at him to ‘Unhand me!’ But he hurls me onto the table face down; the impact rendering me breathless. My hair tumbles across my face, impairing my vision, I groan and try to push myself back up but he has his arm firmly across my back, pinning me to the table. He’s fumbling with his breeches, and then hitching up my skirt, all the while I’m struggling against his hold. His hand is sliding up the inside of my thigh; I hold my breath waiting for his heavy hand to grope at my sex. My brain is an assortment of contradictions, this is wrong I don’t want it, yet this sudden explosion of crazed passion is a thrill; I feel my cunt moisten. ‘Don’t, please Kalcha, I’m sorry..’I gasp loudly as his fingers probe at my slit. I try to thrust my hips forwards and away from his calloused fingers, but I’m stuck between him and the table. He moves his hand from my back and presses his palm firmly against my head, pushing my face further into the cold wood. All the while driving his fingers deep inside me, I give up the protest and start to buck backwards onto them, harder and faster, my breath so ragged that my hair is wafting from my tear stained face.
‘I don’t believe you’re sorry enough’ He brutally whispers in my ear, forcing another digit inside me, and pumping faster. I’m screaming out, my head mystified by my bodies reactions. I can feel his erect cock resting on my arse, he pulls out his fingers and I exhale forcefully; and with one swift movement wrenches my skirt from my hips, tossing it away. My body slumps down onto the wood beneath me, I try to scramble to my feet after the moments rest, but he’s grabbed my arms and is restraining them behind my back; so roughly that I whimper from the pain. He’s rubbing his cock against my soaking pussy and I’m moaning from its probing contact with my clit. ‘You’re enjoying this aren’t you? Is this what you’ve been wanting?’ He thrusts his prick inside me, harshly; and drives into me with such force that the table shunts forward. I scream out, rolling my head from side to side, trying to decide if this is pure pleasure or pure torture. He thrusts once more, and I cry out again in response. He lets up the pressure on my arms and grabs a fist full of my hair; pulling my ear to his lips. ‘Tell me you’re enjoying this, tell me whore!’ He pants heavily and thrusts deep with all his power. I scream again, and a new torrent of tears surge free.
‘I fucking hate you!’ I spit. He forces my face back down onto the table, quickly and harshly; the side of my face smashing against the wood.
He laughs cruelly. ‘I believe your dripping cunt disagrees!’ He thrusts yet again, my whole body tenses up, what is wrong with me, why is this so exhilarating?
I want to scream at him to fuck me harder, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. ‘Is this all you’ve got Kalcha? You’re pathetic!’ I snarl. And with that he starts fucking me like a wild animal, coercing his cock with extreme might, over and over, the table scrapping along the flagged floor my breathing an erratic mess, and every one of his silent thrusts is a persecution most welcome.
‘You dirty little whore! You’re loving this aren’t you?’ He bellows, but before I have time to answer his thumb begins probing my arse hole; I gasp from the prospect, wiggling underneath his weight, and squealing as his fat thumb breaches my tight anus, he pushes it in up to the knuckle; his cock filling my pussy and his thumb exploring my arse. I can feel myself slipping away, the sensation so intense; my moaning and gasping a bewilderment of bliss. ‘Say it! Say you love it!’ He all but screams at me.
And despite myself I concur ‘Yes, I love it, I love it, oh fuck, fuck me!’
He laughs again, driving into me. ‘You’re a dirty little slut aren’t you?’ He pants, hammering away at me, twisting his thumb around my taut anus, the pinching sharp and painfully but yet so rousing.
‘Yes, I’m a dirty slut!’ I wheeze in agreement. ‘I’m so fucking disgusting, you need to punish me!’ I’m screaming these words at the top of my voice. The head of his cock banging against the very periphery of my pussy, the pressure so concentrated I feel like I am about to explode. With my arms free I push myself up and begin driving back into his impulsions, faster and harder like a crazed bitch on heat. He grabs my hair and pulls my head back again, until I’m screaming at him to stop. I fumble at my bodice, releasing my tits from their confines, my nakedness in stark contrast to his fully clad from, my vulnerability adding to the lurid pleasure. He pulls his thumb from my hole and draws his prick out slowly, I groan with incredibly hunger. ‘Don’t stop, I need you to ruin me!’ I pant. His large hands circle my waist and he flips me over, staring into his eyes is a surreal experience; my husband, the man whose touch I have ostracised for many years is fucking me like I crave, yet and all I can see reflected is pure disgust.
He puts his hand around my neck and the other on the outside of my thigh lifting me up and slamming me down onto the table. He keeps his cast-iron hand around my throat, and guides his cock inside me. ‘You’re already ruined!’ He sputters; then commences his animalist rutting, he’s squeezing my left breast so hard that I believe it might burst, he moves on to my nipple and begins pinching and twisting it, the hurting ecstasy. All the while he’s pushing me further back over the table till I’m laid completely flat, his hand still clinging to my throat, pinning me down. ‘Play with yourself’ He commands deeply.
I oblige and begin vigorously rubbing my swollen clitoris. My legs spread as far as they will go, but it doesn’t seem far enough, I want more of him, I want all of him inside me. I’m bucking up towards his cock and fondling my clit with such vehemence, I am so sodden; the tops of my thighs drenched in my own fluids, I know I am close. He’s digging the nails of his free hand into my thigh, I feel him pierce the skin, drawing blood. But I do not care, all that matters is my evident climax. He’s squeezing my throat now, my head is starting to spin, my body completely surrendered to his violent insatiability. ‘Fuck me like the gods are dead!’ I rasp; my body convulsing on the wooden surface. He’s so silent; I have not heard him groan once.
‘Fucking bitch!’ He roars. I do not look at him as he peaks; I close my eyes and ride my own wave of quivering pleasure, my clit pulsating with such power; my pussy throbbing like a gaping wound. My voice is reaching a pitch I have never heard before. I’m still shuddering as Kalcha falls onto me, panting from exhausting. I do not hold him and I do not acknowledge him.
He lies on me, his head resting on my heaving breasts; but only for a brief moment before he pushes himself away, turns his back to me and begins shoving his cock back into his trousers. I slowly sit up and watch the back of his head, longing for some kind of covering for my exposed body. The previous demented hunger has been replaced with shame.
‘Is that how you are for him?’ He asks, turning around slowly.
I swallow loudly, contemplating my reply. He’s looking at me as if I’m a stranger. ‘No.’ I whisper, for it is true, I have never been like that for anybody. I watch the blood from my wound trickle down the outside of my thigh, and his life seed run down the inside; I winch from sudden pain and stupidity.
‘You’re lying.’ His gaze filled with utter disgust.
I wrap my arms around my breasts, his look more besmirching than the entire degraded act. ‘I am not. You are the only man who has ever made me act as such.’
He laughs his cruel laugh. ‘I made you do nothing; it is in you, you are filth.’
I look at him in utter dismay, the realisation of how little I actually know this man hits me. ‘And what does that make you?’
‘I am a man who needed to chastise his wayward wife, and in doing so has learnt the full extent of her wickedness.’
I snort at the absurdity of his words. ‘Believe what you want, I do not care. You cast me into a position that I had no physical command over, and now you slight me, because I managed to derive some form of pleasure from your foul play!’ I stand up straight and watch him soak in my naked appearance; I am not ashamed, why the fuck should I be? I pick up my bodice from the floor and march over to my discarded skirt, pulling it on.
‘I want you gone; believe me when I say your life here is over!’
‘My life was over the day I married you!’ I scream at him; I shall not shed any more tears over this animal. ‘Fate has finally been kind to me; I am free!’ I have no idea where I am to go; I have few friends in this town, fewer since Osur’s gossip-mongering.
‘Are you going to him?’ He asks, suddenly his tone sounds somewhat wounded.
‘Yes!’ I lie. Going to Ranril would be an inane move, my feelings for him are strong but he cannot offer me sanctuary, not from Kalcha, nor from the townsfolk, or from myself. I imagine I would be an inconvenience. I rush upstairs to pack my knapsack and change; my sorrow replaced with determination. When I re-enter the living room, he is sat at the table, his head in his hands, and his shoulders juddering as if repressing hysteria. I stand in the doorway not knowing what to say.
He tilts his face up towards me and I witness despair and fury imprinted in equal measures. ‘Do you love him?’ He asks.
I shrug my shoulders and shuffle awkwardly. ‘He is kind to me, he makes me feel..’
He holds up his hand to silence me. ‘If you go to him, you affront my name further. I cannot stand for this.’
‘Affront your name? I was unaware of your caste nobility.’ I mock, biting my tongue immediately after the fact.
He leaps up from his seat, ready to attack. ‘I am a respected trapper; my authority is abundant during excursions, it will not do, I cannot be mocked by my lessers.’
I have to stop myself from expressing the fact that he has not been on an excursion in nearly a year, and what little authority he did have will now be diminished. Instead I decide to aggravate him in another way. ‘I’m going to him! There is nothing you can do.’ And I make my way towards the front door.
But before I have time to open it fully, his hand is extending in-front of me, smashing it shut. ‘You’re wrong; there is something I can do.’
What does he mean? What the fuck is he planning on doing? Pure terror envelopes me; his expression is menacing, and it is not directed at me. ‘What? What are you going to do?’ I try to keep my voice steady but I know it is breaking.
‘The only thing a man can do when so clearly disrespected by another.’ He’s speaking like a man possessed. ‘Crush their instigation of war.’ My whole body runs cold. He barges past me and out into the street, I dart after him; my mind racing with thoughts of Ranril, lying broken
No comments:
Post a Comment