She sat now, cross-legged and smug; she had seen the flash of hurt on her mother’s face when she spoke, and conversely, it had only made her feel good. Mumma should know how it felt to be sorely hurt too. And the way her shoulders had slumped as she left, her eyes on the plate of cookies, discarded like trash on the floor; well, Tara felt a tad bit guilty about THAT. But Maddie had giggled, her black hair bobbing as he said,
‘Ah, c’mon. Who cares for your Mom’s precious shi*ty cookies anyways?’ and she had kicked at the plate carelessly, causing it to overturn and create a mess on the carpet. Tara had been dismayed but seeing her look, Maddie had snapped.
‘Come on, dummy. You have an army of maids. Surely someone can come and clean away the stuff?’
A small war was going on in Tara’s chest. Something was wrong but she did not want to offend her friend who was so …so cool!
Mumma had made her rules clear: respect the food you have.
But Maddie…she had just…
Tara did not want to lok uncool before her friend with the Goth makeup and black mascara, though truth be told, Maddie did look a little silly in her black tee and black jeans, her hair in some exotic punk style with gel. So Tara had also given a nervous giggle and now, both the girls watched in anticipation with eagerness writ large on their excited faces.
*
Proserpina
At dawn
I turn my head as Lucien enters. It is almost dawn and I have had a sleepless night. Baby Rudi has been uncomfortable and cranky, whimpering and crying, ever since we got back from the Club. Beatrice has not minced her words and has scolded me severely for having allowed such a tiny infant to be taken out of the house.
He only subsides when I hold him to my breast, warm and comforting, murmuring words of love to him.
He had finally drifted off into a restless sleep. I managed to place him in the cot and the nurse is in charge of him in the spacious nursery.
*
Now I watch my husband as he approaches the bed. He has already changed; Gustav has helped him and I stare unabashedly at the perfect, chiselled abs, the powerful muscles on his naked torso rolling as he walks to me and lowers himself onto the bed, the crisp grey curls over his chest. There is an edginess about his movements and I guess that something is troubling him. Now is not the time to tell him about Tara I decide, even as he reaches for me.
He has seen that I am awake and he rips off the sheets covering my body, exposing my nightshirt to his cold, critical gaze as he comes to me, big and broad, his hungry mouth seeking and finding my mouth as his tongue probes.
I sigh, my arms going around his neck as I murmur,
“Lucien, Rudi…was…’
But I get no further.
His mouth is already latched onto my tender nipple and I feel my body readying for him. I moan.
“Lucien,’ I murmur again, my hands rifling feverishly through his hair, his full head of silver hair. They move to his cheeks, the unshaven raspy stubble on his cheeks which will undoubtedly leave marks on my body before the night is over.
” Shut the f*ck up, woman. I need to f*ck you,’ he growls and tears off my nightshirt with feverish, impatient hands.
‘Your Old man, wh*re, wants to f*ck you.’
He grunts and I can feel his erection; I part my legs obediently.
‘I want to put my c*ck in your wet hole, sl*t,’ he goes on.
He slips a hand down, feeling me roughly and I thrash as he finds the wetness, slipping his thick fingers into me with a satisfied grunt.
His breath is hoarse as he grunts,
‘How do you manage to be so tight, my little bi*ch, even after I have bred you so many times, eh?’
The coarseness is not something that I can respond to; it is not a question that needs an answer and anyway, I am beyond logical thought as I raise my hips, panting frantically as my orgasm nears, my breasts wobbling as he pinches a nipple cruelly, making me whimper.
He laughs cruelly and shifts, entering me forcefully. There’s just a second and then, he is inside me, plundering.
*
Once, a very long time ago, I had seen a horse mating with a mare, forceful, and in control. The poor mare, helpless under her mate, had been used thoroughly by the large stallion who rode her till he ejaculated…
And that is how I feel now as I service my lover, helpless, dominated by his superior will.
At his mercy, to be used by him as he deems fit.
*
His weight, pure muscle, is pressing down on me and I gasp.
His mouth on mine, hands, large and meaty, pressing my wrists above my head, holding me a helpless prisoner as I thrash, begging him to let me come. And he is suddenly pounding into me with everything he has, f*cking me for His pleasure, I realise.
He has had a bad day, I think and he always comes to me and takes me roughly when he is angry, upset, or disturbed. I moan, for in some twisted way, I get aroused thinking of how I am making him feel, how I can arouse him… As of now, I am just an object to be used and to my shame, I feel that it turns me on. My soft womanhood, what he calls my pus*y is pulsing with need, dripping with juices, excited by this coarse taking of my body…
I cry out as I come and feel him stiffening, the way his body gives him away every time before he empties his load in me; his face has a raw, carnal savagery but he is beautiful in my eyes. I whisper his name,’ Lucien,’ and push my hips, raising them to his body, inviting his cruelty; meeting his thrusts, squeezing his manhood again and again and his hands dig inot my as*, cruel and harsh. I feel him grunt as he bucks one final time before he collapses on me, breathing heavily.
I hold him in my arms, my lips on his hard shoulders as I breathe heavily.
I love him…
I love this man who has marked me as his from the day I first saw him…