�Here is the price of freedom:
Your every drop of courage,
ounce of pain, pint of blood.
Paid in advance."~Sebastian Lee,
"The Rising Tide" AFC 271
Monday, September 5, 2005
Anna placed her mind in a separate place. It was easy to do. It wouldn�t last long, and the initial pain was already beginning to subside. Just another minute or two and it would be over.
His desires had become extremely infrequent over the past few years, he never insisted, and she was usually able to avoid it for weeks on end. Going to bed later than usual and �waking up� after he left for work in the morning, or had gone downstairs on the weekends. Feigning the occasional headache, pointing out a proposal that needed to be finished, or expressing the true sentiments of exhaustion after a long day. And on the days when he was in a foul mood, it was especially easy.
This holiday morning she had misjudged everything. He was not in bed when she awoke, which was normal. She listened carefully for sounds which would indicate his location and heard nothing. The doors to the bedroom were closed, which generally meant he had already gone downstairs. With a little smile on her face she got up and padded to the bathroom � with visions of getting to the computer and reading what messages may have been sent overnight by Her Love.
He was in the bathroom, and she knew immediately it was already too late to escape. His eyes had an almost feral gleam to them as he came towards her, lips together, jaw clenched. He allowed her to use the toilet, then grabbed her by both arms, turned her around, and pushed her quickly back into the bedroom. He stood her by the bed and stripped off her panties and t-shirt as he muttered in her ear �No headache this morning dear? And refreshed from sleep it appears.� And his weight carried her back onto the bed.
He straddled above her, poking himself at her mouth with one hand, and using the other to hold her chin in place. She chose the only wise choice, and opened her mouth. Not doing so would mean it would be shoved in her without lubrication of any kind. Within moments he pulled out and moved down to do exactly that. Jammed it into her, pushing as hard as possible, then thrust himself in and out of her hard and fast without waiting, without allowing her body to adjust. His weight was suffocating on her chest as he lay on top of her, not supporting himself, and she had a hard time taking a breath. But a couple of breaths were all she would need in the two, maybe three, minutes it would take.
She pulled her knees up to prevent more pain, and moved with him as needed to manage the depth of penetration as he rammed into her. Her hands rested lightly on his shoulders and she kept her eyes closed tight, her head turned away. He could not see her biting her lip, he did not see the tears welling under her lids � first from the pain, then from the humiliation and anger. Her mind filled with a never ending scream. She no longer belonged to him, she did not want to be there, this was not a part of her she wanted to share with him. She sought solace by picturing Her Love�s face and so hardly noticed when he was done, when he pulled out of her, stretched, and said �We should do this more often.�
Scratching himself he strolled back to the bathroom and started the shower while Anna fumbled Kleenex from the drawer and curled herself into a ball for a few moments, taking deep cleansing breaths and calming her mind. Finally she got up, cleaned herself with warm water and scented soap (grateful for the heat on the tender places), dressed, held up her head, squared her shoulders, and went downstairs to smile and laugh and fix breakfast for the kids.
She would simply have to be smarter. And maybe, just maybe, there would only be a few of these days left. The only thing she was forced to provide was a place for him to masturbate. Her love and trust and passions belonged to her, to give as she wanted. She could handle it.
"Confine that which
you fear to the mirror.
Start with who is standing there.
Then smile."~Bogdo Geghen Seer of Agharta
CY 1890
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