by Loris James
I glare at her. “You’re afraid of him, aren’t you? Does he know you have money? Are you sure he wants you and not just your money? They say around town that he’s ruthless with women – fucks them, beats them then leaves them. Aren’t you afraid that once he has you in his power he will start beating you as well?”
“Why on earth would he beat me?”
“Amun heard that he beat his last wife so savagely that her spleen burst and she had to be hospitalized. She left him because of it.”
“If you’re trying to annoy me you’re succeeding!” she said threateningly. “You’re lucky I don’t have my whip with me!”
I sit down beside her and take her hand. She tries to pull it away but I hold it firmly. “I’m not trying to annoy you or scare you. I don’t want anything from you except to be your slave, to be always near you – no matter what the circumstances. If he is cruel to you I will be there to protect you.”
She snatches her hand away. “Do you have any idea how much you bore me?” she said coldly.
I get to my feet, seething. “You are the cruellest bitch I have ever known and believe me, I have known a few!”
She shrugs indifferently. “You already said so. For an intelligent man you tend to repeat yourself with tedious regularity. I should punish you for your insolence, but let me try reason instead of lashes.
“You have no right to accuse me of anything. Haven’t I always been brutally honest with you? Haven’t I warned you more than once that I can be far crueller than you could ever imagine? Didn’t I warn you that it was dangerous to put yourself completely in my power? Didn’t I tell you that I preferred to be dominated by a man? But you wanted to be my plaything, my slave! You found the highest pleasure in being humiliated, in feeling my whip on your back. If I now take pleasure in torturing you, abusing you, it is your fault - you made me what I have become! And now you stand there snivelling miserably and blame me for everything?”
“Yes, I am guilty,” I agree, “but haven’t I suffered enough because of it? Can’t we put an end now to this cruel game?”
“Game? I never thought of it as a game!”
“You almost succeeded in driving me to the edge of reason but be warned! I have come to my senses. Just don’t push me too far -”
“Are you trying to threaten me? You’re only making yourself more ridiculous. Had you been a proper man in the first place I would have loved you faithfully, and probably would have married you. Instead you turned out to be a weak and pathetic romantic consumed with crazy obsessions of pain and suffering and martyrdom. No woman wants a martyr as her master. A woman wants to respect her man - not have someone like you who voluntarily places his neck under my foot. You allowed and welcomed everything that was done to you. Now I am tired of you and it’s time for you to go!”
“Send me away,” I say jeeringly, “and see what happens. Some playthings are more dangerous than you think.”
Her eyes flash angrily. “I warn you, don’t challenge me!”
“If you won’t be mine,” I continue, my voice stifled with rage, “no one else shall have you either!”
“Is that a line from a movie?” she says mockingly. “Or have I heard it somewhere before? From the painter perhaps? And look what happened to him!” She leaps to her feet and grabs a fistful of my T-shirt. She is pale and trembling with fury. “Don’t you ever dare threaten me - I warn you! There’s no telling what I might do!”
“Very well – marry him then!” I snarl, enraged. “Make your Russian lover your husband! It will be exactly what you deserve!”
“Yes! I will make him my lover!” she cried coldly. “And I just might make you his slave – to do with as he likes! He knows about methods of torture that will make your skin crawl. He has made a study of it. It interests him. He will keep you alive for weeks and weeks while slowly and excruciatingly torturing you to death!”
“You’re insane!”
“I warn you for the last time – someone like me who has gone as far as I have might easily go further! I feel only hatred and repugnance for you, and would find a real pleasure in watching my lover beat you to death! I can barely restrain myself!”
I am overcome with rage and grab her wrists and forced her to the ground, so that she’s on her knees before me.
She gasps, rage painting her face like a contorted mask of fury.
“I’ll kill you if you marry him!” I snarl. “You’re mine! You belong to me!” I feel rage and passion surge up inside me, overwhelming me. And now I am operating purely on instinct.
In one swift movement I shove her on the gravel path on her back and crush her with my body. Her eyes widen with shock and her look of fear spurs me on. She begins to fight me but I hold her down easily with one hand. I rip the key with the gold chain off her neck, snapping the chain. While holding her down, I pull my jeans down and unlock the chastity belt and hurl it away into the bushes, vowing never to wear that fucking ridiculous contraption ever again!
She is fighting furiously now, knowing what’s coming, but she’s no match for my strength. For all her cruelty and brutality, she only has the physique of a woman. I drag her skirts up above her waist and tear her flimsy lace panties off. She tries to scratch and bite and kick me. I subdue her by slapping her viciously across the face. “Lie still, bitch!”
Her eyes now are deep pools of terror.
“I will show you what a man can do!” I snarl, and roughly spread her legs. My fingers bite into the soft flesh of her inner thighs which will leave bruises later on. I take my engorged penis in my hand and point it at her vagina and penetrate her with a brutal pelvic thrust that makes her gasp with pain. I drive down hard and viciously in a blind rage as she struggles violently beneath me, trying to escape my cock.
I am the one in charge now. I am the master now and she is no more than a weak, whimpering submissive pinned helplessly beneath me. I feel as strong and ferocious and merciless as a raging bull mounting its female – blinded by lust. I want to fuck her and hurt her and subdue her and show her just how pathetically frail she is against my bull strength. I want to inflict as much pain on her as I can with my huge cock. I want to tear her up. I want to hear her sob and scream for mercy.
I thrust into her with all my strength and all the pent-up rage that I possess. I hold her hips down hard under me so that she is unable to escape the fury of my penis. With one hand I rip her bodice open and lower my head and bite down brutally into the soft flesh of her breasts, drawing blood. She starts to mewl with pain. As I fuck her I bite into her breasts and her nipples and her pain excites me even further. I know I could come in an instant if I let go, but I want this sensation of power and absolute dominance to go on and on for as long as possible. I want to humiliate this bitch!
Finally, I cannot hold on any longer and I come. A low, animal growl escapes my lips and my back arches and I thrust one last time as deep and hard as I can and ejaculate my load into the wet depths of her vagina, planting my male seed deep within her. My seed is buried deep inside her body and there’s nothing she can do about it now and I know, with absolute certainty and utter satisfaction that, if she is not on the pill, then I have just made a child inside her.
My body heaves and shudders and I collapse on top of her, pinning her down, too drained to move.
We lie like that for a long time – she with her dress ripped and her breasts exposed and her skirts above her waist, her back pressed hard into the gravel path - and me on top of her, suffocating her with my weight, pinning her down, my jeans around my ankles.
“You raped me,” she says at last, her voice emotionless, dull.
“Yes,” I agree, unrepentant. “And I put a child inside you. Are you on the pill?”
She shook her head. “Vassily wears a condom.”
“Well then, I have just made you pregnant. I am sure of it. You are going to have my child.”
“Are you sure?” she whispers.
“I am positive. I made sure of it.”
She shudders beneath me and to my surprise she puts her arms around me and suddenly clings to me. “You really hurt me,” she murmurs in my ear.
“I know. I wanted to hurt you!”
“I like you this way,” she whispers softly. “I like you strong and masterful and in control of me. That’s all I ever wanted from you - to be the master of me. I like it when you act like a real man and not a subservient slave. If only you were always like this – my master, dominant – then I could truly love you.”
I raise my head and look into her face. Her lips are trembling and her eyes are moist and solemn.
“Is this how you want me to be, Saskia? Masterful? Brutal? Would you prefer it if I beat you as well? I can, you know. I’ve hit a woman before.”
“I want you to take charge of me like a man, Julian! I want you to control me! I want you to take me whenever you want, like you did just now. I want you to make me pregnant. I want to carry your child. I want you to be brutal and passionate with me. I want you to inflict pleasure and pain like you did just now. I want you to be my master in every sense. Be brutal with me and beat me if you must. You are so much physically stronger than I. I am just a weak woman, to be done with as you please.”
I kiss her passionately, forcing my tongue deep into her mouth as far as it will go; pushing and at the same time sucking the life and soul out of her body. She responds in kind, clinging to me and grinding her hips and naked breasts up against me.
Finally, she pulls away, breathless. “Do you still love me? Now that you know you can use your masculine strength to subdue me?”
“Yes!” I breathe into her neck, kissing it. “Yes, I still love you!”
“I love you too, Julian,” she rasps urgently in my ear. “I have always loved only you!”
My heart races wildly at the sound of those words. Oh, how long I have longed to hear them! But I am not entirely convinced.
“What about the Russian?”
“I am infatuated with him –we are sexually compatible. He is very masterful in a brutal kind of way and I must admit it excites me. When I’m with him it feels as though I am playing with fire, but when I’m with you I am calm. I know that I can trust you because you love me. You and I understand each other. We have been through so much together. But now we are past that, aren’t we? We understand each other at last, don’t we?
“Yes!” I tenderly kiss every bruise and bite mark on her breasts and nipples.
“I’m sorry, Julian,” she says softly.
“Sorry?” I murmur with her nipple against my tongue.
“I’m sorry that I played my role of cruel mistress rather better than you expected – better than we both expected. But now that you are a man again and have become my master, you will have to be satisfied with my being a good, dutiful little wife from now on. We will get married and live like a normal couple. And perhaps you have made me pregnant and I will have your child and he will have your blond curls and beautiful blue eyes – will you still love me if I’m fat and pregnant?”
“I will always love you. You know that.”
She clings to me suddenly. “Yes I do.”
“Will you marry me, Saskia?” I say fervently, desperately.
She laughs tenderly. “If that’s what you want then yes, I will marry you.” She kisses me tenderly on the lips.
I draw her close against me.
“You are no longer my slave, my darling” she whispers. “From now on you are Julian again, the man I love and respect. Julian Deverell, who is to be my husband and master and father of my child. Saskia Deverell – I like the sound of that. As long as you dominate me I will be faithful to you for ever!”
“And the Russian?”
“Forget the Russian! Lust and infatuation is one thing – true and deep love between a man and a woman is quite another matter entirely. How can I ever really love such a brute? You were right - he has a violent temper and has already slapped me once. Perhaps the real reason I was so attracted to him is because I am actually afraid of him.”
“I almost killed myself because of you and him,” I say softly.
She holds me close. “I tremble at the thought of anything happening to you, my love. I cannot imagine my life without you.”
“So from now on, no more mistress and slave?”
She smiles at me tenderly. “You have proved to me that you are no longer my submissive. You have shown me that you are strong and masterful and will no longer bow down to a woman. I want you to remove all those horrible rings and attachments from your body. Will you allow me to remove them?”
“Right now?”
“Right this instant.”
“Of course.”
We get up and she straightens her clothes and already she has dark bruises on her pale thighs and breasts, and there is a small trickle of blood running down her inner thigh from her vagina.
She catches my look and smiles serenely. “Yes, my darling, you hurt and bruised me and torn me up inside, but I shall bear your wounds with pride – especially if I am with child. Do you really believe you’ve made me pregnant?”
“I’m sure of it.”
We sit on the garden bench and she gently removes first the weighted chains from my nipples, then the nipple rings, then the rings from my scrotum. Her touch is gentle and tender.
She looks at the penis ring. “I think we should leave that one in. I rather liked the feeling of it inside me.” She leans her face down and kisses my flaccid penis tenderly, almost chastely. My penis responds almost immediately to the touch of her lips.
She looks at it and laughs. “I’ve forgotten what sexual stamina you have. You’re going to need it to keep your wife happy once we’re married. And perhaps you’ll plant more of your male seed inside me and we’ll make a whole tribe of babies together! With your looks and mine our children will be beautiful and perfect.”
We embrace and sit in silence for a long with our arms around each other, then she says, “I have come to hate this place - you have been so unhappy here. I want us to leave immediately. We will make a new start somewhere else. We will buy a house in the city and start making plans for our wedding and our child. From now on I will devote myself to making you happy, to being a dutiful and obedient wife to you. How does that sound?”
I hold her close to me. “Wonderful,” I murmur into her fragrant hair.
“Tomorrow I will go into town and get my affairs in order. I’ll have to sort out the lease of this place and hand in the keys with the agents and deal with a few other matters. I must also remember to pick up the painting from the picture framers – they called to say it’s ready. You can stay here and pack our things and with luck I should be back around noon and we can leave immediately.” As she speaks I can see she is getting excited. There is a wonderful warm glow about her suddenly.
“And the Russian?”
“I don’t want to see him again,” she says adamantly.
My heart skips with joy.
“What about Osiris and Amun?”
She laughs softly. “We won’t be needing them anymore, will we? I will take them into town with me tomorrow morning and drop them off at the station. They will find their own way home.”
I hold her tightly in my arms and she leans into me, her face pressed hard into my neck. She lets me kiss her, pushing her hips up hard against mine as I plunge my tongue into her mouth once more.
I feel as though I have awoken from a feverish nightmare. I feel like a shipwrecked man who has been lost and dying at sea for months and has finally been rescued as if by a miracle. At last I am safe and warm and loved.
She has rescued me from my own worse nightmarish fantasies.
Chapter Sixty
She has been gone for hours. I have long since finished packing for both of us and I am sitting in the warm sun in the courtyard. There is an unmistakable hint of spring in the air. Everywhere there are signs of nature awakening; early peach blossoms blooming in the orchard, fresh spring grass growing in t
he meadow, and birds building nests everywhere in preparation for their new hatchlings. I close my eyes and listen to the trickling fountain spilling out of the mouth of the evil looking gargoyle, and wait for her return.
It’s strange being alone in the house. Osiris and Amun left with her this morning. They were both casually dressed – in trousers and thick sweaters, and Osiris wore a full length brown suede coat. They looked so ordinary out of their crimson priestess garb and ornate headdresses. With their luggage in tow, they looked like two ordinary women on their travels. Tourists perhaps, nothing more sinister than that.
Neither of them met my gaze as they left. Neither said good-bye.
I am a little worried about Saskia being gone for so long, and yet I know there is no reason why I should have any more doubts or fears as far as she is concerned. We had made tender love last night to seal our idyllic new relationship. She had opened a bottle of champagne and we had toasted our new future together.
“Here’s to us,” Saskia had said, raising her glass, her green eyes glowing with happiness. “And to our first child,” she had added softly, rubbing her tummy. “I do so hope you’re right, Julian. I hope I’m carrying your child in me. I hope your seed is strong and is flourishing in me right this moment.”
Last night was wonderful. It was the happiest night of my life. I can’t remember a time when I have ever felt this happy. And yet, a feeling of oppression still lingers and weighs me down, and I cannot rid myself of it. It’s probably due to the suffering of the past days and weeks which still casts its dark shadows on my soul. I had stood on the brink of death after all, willing to cast myself into the black abyss of the river.
I shudder in the warm spring sunlight.
It is late afternoon and she is back at last, looking radiant and happy. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes shine with excitement.
“Did, everything go smoothly in town?” I ask, tenderly kissing her.
“Yes, my love,” she replies, “everything is taken care of. Sorry that I’m a little later than planned, but we shall leave tonight. Go and put our trunks in the car so long.”