by Measha Stone
“It’s a good thing she has us to teach her lessons,” I say, forcing my tone to stay light.
“It is. She’s lucky we care so much about her. She’ll remember this lesson.” Mark picks up the bowls and places them in the cabinet.
“Yes, she will,” I agree.
So will I.
I leave Mark to finish putting the dishes away and make my way up to my bedroom. My window overlooks the backyard. Is she shivering? Will she get any sleep tonight? It’s hours before I climb into bed. My eyes focus on the shed until my eyelids are too heavy to stay open.
My feet ache. Every muscle in my body hurts, but I have chores to do. I can’t miss any of them or I’ll be put away again.
I was lucky. Papa let Elijah bring me inside this morning. I barely slept last night. It’s hard to sleep standing up, but the chain attached to the collar must have kinked up at the top. I couldn’t reach the ground or stretch far enough over my head to fix it.
When I got in the house, Papa gave me a curt nod and told me to get breakfast ready. I washed my hands, but the rest of me was filthy. Mark’s gaze was soft when I met his eyes for the first time. Elijah reached over and squeezed my hand when Papa was too busy shoveling his eggs into his mouth to notice.
Papa let me have a piece of toast, then sent me to clean myself up and get dressed. You’d think I’d be used to being naked in front of them by now. It happens more often than not these days. Especially since Papa said the boys are training me to be their wife. If they want to look at me, it’s their right.
Mark takes advantage of the privilege, sometimes telling me to clean his room nude.
Elijah’s not like that, though. He’s sweet. Considerate. Even when he has to put me away like he did last night, I know it’s not because he wants to. He doesn’t like it the way Mark and Papa do.
I step on a twig, pinching the bottom of my foot. Flicking it away, I look around me again. Papa is napping, and the boys are working on Papa’s truck. An oil change.
A pail in hand, I head toward to the compost pile Mark helped me make last summer. Papa lets me keep scraps in the pail beneath the sink, but once it’s half full, I have to take it out. He doesn’t want rats in the house.
As I near the bin, a figure steps out from behind a large bush. I freeze. I’m near the tree line. Too close.
“Hey.” It’s him again. He’s not as obvious without the orange and yellow clothes. Today, he blends in more with brown and green camo gear. I stare at him without moving, then look over my shoulder. We’re alone as best as I can tell.
“Shit.” He starts to walk toward me, his eyes focused on my legs. Papa was in a fit of rage when he brought that switch back into the kitchen last night. The welts and cuts have scabbed, but my calves, thighs, and ass are littered with them.
“Go,” I say in my angry voice. I don’t get to use it that often. Never, really. Except with Elijah every once in a while. He doesn’t take offense as easily.
“I was hoping I’d see you again.” He pulls out a phone. It looks like the one Papa keeps in his bedroom. Only he gets to touch it.
“What are you doing?” I ask, keeping my voice from carrying. “You can’t be here.”
“Look, I know what it’s like. Staying in a shitstorm because you don’t know any better.”
I blink a few times, but don’t speak. It’s not like he’s listening to me anyway.
“I’ve worked with girls like you before. A long time ago,” he clarifies. He taps on his device, then turns it toward me. It’s a picture.
I check to make sure we’re still unseen, then step closer. It’s a girl around my age. Her hair is knotted and messy around her dirty face.
“I don’t look like that.” I point.
He smiles. “No, you don’t. She was hurt real bad when I found her. She was being locked away in a cellar by her father.”
“She was put away?” I ask, then pull back from him. “She must not have been following the rules.”
He frowns. “No. No. It wasn’t her fault. Just like this isn’t your fault.” He motions toward my legs.
“My Papa loves me,” I say, defending the marks. “Papas who love their kids teach them lessons. It’s so we learn. It’s so I’m a good woman.”
“Is that what he tells you?” he asks with disbelief. “Here. Look. This girl got away from her father. I helped her. And look at her now.” He turns the phone around again and swipes his finger over the screen. “Here.” He shows it to me again.
It’s the same girl. I can tell because of her eyes. Bright blue. She’s clean, and her hair is brushed into soft curls around her face. She’s smiling. A man stands beside her, a wide grin on his face. She’s holding a piece of paper in front of her.
“That’s you,” I say, pointing to the picture. No beard, but it’s him.
“Yeah. I’ve put on a few, but that’s me.” He pats his middle. “She graduated from high school. Top of her class. She works at a youth center. She can help you.”
I pull back from him. Help me? High school? What is that? Why would I need to go to school anywhere but here? Papa taught me to read and I can write a little. I make the grocery lists for him. I can cook and I can clean. All the things that make a good woman.
“I don’t need help,” I say, but my resolve is wavering. The woman looked so carefree. So happy.
My feet hurt so bad. My skin still burns from the switch.
He drops his hand to his side, and sighs. “Is your mother here?”
I point to the corner of the lot where the graves are. “She lives there now.”
“Lives there?” He shakes his head. “No. She’s dead there.”
My mind swirls. “Right. I mean, I know.”
“Siblings?” he asks, checking over my shoulder. He seems to be searching the yard and windows of the house. Papa’s room faces the front, but if he’s looking for me, he’ll find us easily.
“Brothers.”
“Are they hurt too?”
“Hurt? No. They love me. We love each other.”
He scoffs again. “That’s love?” He points to my cut-up legs.
“You should go,” I say again. I shouldn’t be talking to him. He’s confusing me, and I’m already too tired from no sleep to make much sense of anything.
His jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow. He’s getting angry.
“I can make a call, get the police here, or you can just come with me. I’ll have you down the mountain before they even know you’re gone.” He shows me the phone again.
I squeeze my eyes closed for a long pause. Maybe Papa’s testing me to make sure I’m going to be a good woman and stay where I’m supposed to. If I say yes, this man could signal Papa and he’ll put me down. I don’t want to be put down.
My stomach twists the longer the silence stretches.
“No.” I shake my head. “Please. You have to go. Right now,” I say, pointing behind him. I can’t explain him to Papa if he comes out. I won’t be able to act innocent. Because I’m not. I didn’t tell Papa about him the first time he ventured into our yard. I’ve broken so many rules. Important ones.
I’m a bad woman.
My vision blurs with my tears.
“Please,” I beg him. “Please go.”
“Okay. Okay.” He sighs again and stands up straight, tucking his phone away. “I’m going to go. I have to head home in a couple days. I’ll stop by again in two days. It’s your last chance. I can’t come back after that.” He says it like it’s a threat. If I don’t go with him, I’ll be all alone. No one will rescue me.
But why would I need rescuing? It’s the wickedness in me that makes me cringe at Papa’s touch or Mark’s leer. Once I learn all my lessons, fight back the urge to be a bad woman, things will be perfect. We’ll have a happy home. It’s what Papa wants. It’s what Grandpa made for us.
“I won’t go with you,” I say quietly. The right words, but they hurt to say.
“I’ll be back. Please. You can get away from her
e.”
“No,” I whisper-yell, throwing my pail at him. Turning my back on him, I run through the yard to the house. I don’t stop until I’m in the kitchen.
Papa walks in just as I get inside. His eyes narrow on me.
“What are you doing?” he asks cautiously, looking at the door.
“There was a skunk,” I lie, grabbing the sink to catch my breath. “Out by the compost.”
He walks to the door and laughs. “That stink would be on you for days.”
“I left the pail,” I say when he starts to open the door.
“You can get it tomorrow. I want a roast for dinner tonight. With potatoes and that apple pie you’ve been asking to make. I have a surprise for you after dinner too.” He turns his smile on me. It’s like he doesn’t even remember last night. He looked mad enough to kill, but now he’s being sweet.
My head hurts.
“A surprise?” I ask. I haven’t been fully forgiven yet. He never gives us anything too nice before we’ve been forgiven.
He tilts his head to the left, then the right, cracking the cartilage. “Yep. Now, get to fixing dinner.” He walks past me, patting my rear end. I wince, but don’t let him see. No pouting. If he sees my discomfort, he’ll think I’m ungrateful for my lesson.
And I’m grateful.
Grateful it wasn’t worse.
“Nicolette.” Papa walks into the living room after we’ve had our supper. He didn’t send us up to our rooms like he normally does after he’s eaten.
Mark leans back on the couch beside me, stretching his back and rubbing his stomach. Papa let the boys eat their fill of the roast and potatoes. Not the pie. That’s all for him. He gave me a small piece of meat. It wasn’t enough to fill me, but more than I expected since I haven’t been forgiven yet.
“Your birthday is soon,” he says, hiding something behind his back. “And I know you’ve been taking your reading lessons seriously.” His lips crack into a wide grin. “And I know these boys are probably real tired of listening to that damn pig and his spider friend.”
I fold my hands in my lap, watching him as he speaks. I hide my excitement as best I can, but I won’t lie, my insides are dancing with hope.
Elijah walks behind the couch, pressing his hands against the back of it.
Papa tosses the surprise into my lap. I catch it and bring it up so Elijah can see it too. A book.
“The Kamasutra?” Mark reads out loud. He takes it from me and flips through the pages.
“Mark, don’t be a prick. Let your sister look at her present first,” Papa snaps.
Mark hands it back to me. “Sorry, Papa.”
I open the book and start turning the pages. It’s not a storybook. My throat closes at the pictures on the pages. It’s an instruction manual.
“The boys will like this as much as I will. A gift for the whole family.” Papa laughs.
My face heats. These are the ways they are going to use my body. I close the book and stand from the couch. Stepping around the coffee table, I rise up on my tiptoes and kiss my Papa on his cheek.
“Thank you, Papa,” I say, shoving my disappointment as far into my soul as I can. He can never see it.
“I knew you’d love it. I saw it in a used book store and thought of you right away.” He smiles at me like he’s overly proud of his find.
“It’s real nice.” I hug the book to my chest.
“Good. Now, why don’t you go on up to Mark’s room and wait for the boys.”
My eyes widen before I can stop them.
Luckily, he’s not mad at my surprise. Shouldn’t I be going to his room?
“You acting out yesterday hurt them as much as me. You’ll be getting your forgiveness from them, seeing as you’ll be a wife soon.” He pats my stomach. “Your bleed hasn’t started this month yet.”
His statement kicks the air from my lungs. He’s right. My hand moves to my belly. A baby could be growing beneath my fingers.
“Go on now.” He jerks his head toward the stairwell. With heavy feet, I make my way up the steps, listening as Papa explains to the boys they aren’t to give me any sort of reward.
He’s giving them another lesson on how to deal with me. Because I’m not a good woman.
My mind drifts to my body. Can I be carrying a baby and not know it yet? My breasts don’t hurt, my stomach isn’t any bigger, and I haven’t been ill…other than hunger pangs.
I leave Mark’s door open—a small gesture to show how much I want them to love me and give me their forgiveness. I place the book down on the dresser, feeling too queasy to open it.
The boys don’t give me any time before they file into the room. Elijah shuts the door quietly and leans against it while Mark stands in front of me.
“Once we know you’re carrying our baby, things will be different, Nicolette,” Mark says, touching my chin. “You’ll be completely under our protection. We’ll be your husbands. Papa will always be your papa, and you’ll love him like you always have, but he won’t be responsible for your lessons. That will fall to us.”
“And your forgiveness,” Elijah adds, his eyes lowering to my breasts. “How long before we know?”
Mark’s fingers work on the buttons of my dress. “Papa said he forgot to buy the test, so he’ll go back to the store first thing in the morning.”
I swallow back the bile rising in my throat. Are they both going to take me? They’ve never done that before.
Mark finishes unbuttoning my dress and pushes the sleeves from my shoulders. The thin cotton fabric puddles at my feet.
“Elijah,” Mark says, brushing my hair behind my ears. “Front or back?”
“Back,” Elijah answers without hesitation.
“Okay.” Mark grabs hold of my hair in his fist and shoves me to the bed. “On your hands and knees, Nicolette,” he says to me in his rough voice. He’s not messing around. There won’t be any loving touches tonight.
Elijah and Mark quickly work themselves out of their clothes while I take my position. I try to lower my face, not wanting to see them, but I don’t have a choice. Mark kneels in front of me on the bed and yanks my hair back until my eyes are level with his cock.
“Open,” he orders, fisting his shaft and pressing the soft round head against my lips. Tears well in my eyes, but I don’t hesitate. His cock thrusts inside my mouth before I can open all the way. I choke when he hits the back of my throat, but he won’t let me pull back to breathe. “Do good, Nicolette.”
The bed dips behind me, and Elijah’s hands are on me, rubbing my sex.
“No rewards.” Mark snaps his fingers over my head as he pumps himself into my mouth, fucking my face the way he does my sex when he’s allowed.
“I’m just getting her wet, Mark. I don't want a dry pussy,” Elijah defends. He won’t shove into me without me ready for him. Mark will.
“Oh, fuck,” Mark groans, holding my face down on his shaft. I swallow around his dick, the coarse hair at the base tickling my nose. When stars begin to dance in the edges of my vision, he lets me go, and I gulp in a breath.
Elijah’s cock presses against my entrance, and I brace myself. It’s not enough. Mark times his thrust with Elijah, filling me at both ends. I fist the bedding beneath me, trying to relax. The more I calm, the faster I’ll be forgiven.
“Use your tongue.” Mark pulls my hair, and I wince. There isn’t an inch of me that doesn’t ache.
I do what he says, flicking my tongue under his head as he continues to thrust between my lips.
“Fuck, this is nice,” Mark says, satisfied. “Every night once she’s ours, Elijah, we’ll fuck her like this every night.”
Elijah’s cock plunges into me over and over again, his fingers dig into my hips.
“Yeah. Just like this. I love this,” Elijah agrees, but his excitement doesn’t match Mark’s.
I wrap my lips harder around Mark and start to suckle him. He groans so loud, it drowns out Elijah’s pants.
“Fuck yes!” Mark plunges
forward into my mouth, and I swallow him down. The hot stream of his cum splashes down my throat and over my tongue when he pulls back an inch. It’s his forgiveness. I fight to hold it in my mouth.
“Oh, god, Nicolette. Such a good wife.” Elijah groans and falls forward on me as his cock plunges deep once more and he stills, filling me with his forgiveness.
A moment passes before Elijah and Mark both pull out of my body. Elijah pats my ass. “That was good.”
“Yeah, sweet mouth.” Mark taps my lips. “Not yet.” He warns me, and I nod so he knows I heard him. He smiles. “Good.”
Both of them climb off the bed, leaving me with my ass in the air and my lips sealed to keep Mark’s forgiveness from slipping out. The salty, warm liquid rolls around my tongue.
They pull up their jeans and yank their shirts over their heads. Mark sits in front of me on the bed, lifting my chin with a single finger.
“I can’t wait to have you every night without having to ask Papa. When you’re our wife, you’ll take care of us without hesitation. We won’t even have to ask, you’ll just be waiting for us like a good woman to see who will use your holes that night. And if you’re a good woman, a good wife, you’ll be rewarded. You like when I reward you, don’t you?” Mark asks.
I nod. I don’t ever tell him how dirty I feel after they reward me. It’s wrong to feel anything other than appreciation, so I keep it to myself.
“Good.” He smiles. “Go on, swallow my forgiveness.” He presses his finger to my lips.
I work the liquid down my throat and force myself to control the gag wanting to escape.
Elijah sits on the bed near my ass, his fingers trailing over the marks Papa left.
“You’re healing well,” he says tenderly. “Go on and get to bed, Nicolette. Papa wants you to wake him up before sunrise. He’ll give you his instructions for the day.”
I scramble off the bed.
“Thank you, Mark and Elijah,” I say when I’m at the door. I scoop my dress from the floor. “I promise I’ll be a better woman for you. I’ll be a good wife,” I say, holding my dress against my stomach.
“Sleep, Nicolette.” Mark waves his hand at me, dismissing me.