Page 43 of Madness Behind the Mask
This last month, I have struggled to keep up with Ryo crawling across the nursery. I have read slower than my two twin girls, them having to wait for me before they can flip the page. I have fallen asleep more times than any elderly human. I am nothing but a burden.
A burden who can’t even enjoy this simple moment with my husband.
My throat clogs as I grind my pussy against his pelvis more desperately. Squeezing my eyes shut as the tears fall, I try to feelsomethinggood. Something that is not just numb motions that make me want to curl up into a ball and weep.
I wrap my hands around his head, holding him to me as if that will hold me together. His red curls slip between my fingers, entwining with them, making us one, but all I want to do is break away and find my own corner.
I don’t want him touching me.
No…
That’s not the truth, now is it?
My shoulders collapse as the truth hits me. A thousand whips that rip me to shreds.
I don’t want him touching me likethis.
Reverently.
Cherishingly.
As if I’m some queen.
Instead of the whore I am.
And that’s what is disgusting me the most. Knowing that Icancome, Icanfind pleasure...if only he fucks me like a whore.
Like Antonio did all those nights in my dreams.
Sobs breaking freely, I cling to my husbandin utter shame, no longer moving, no longer pretending I can take back what Antonio fucking stole from me. That I can heal myself through the man I love.
His arms come around me, holding me up as he pumps into me, still murmuring those sweet words, still telling me I’m strong, how this isourmoment. He kisses me with little pecks of love, having no idea that each one, each promise of his lips is breaking me even more.
Because this isn’tourmoment.
It’s still Antonio’s and always will be.
He has a grip on my neck I can never remove, a dog with a collar whose chain leads back to him.
Crying, I bury my face into the top of Caden’s hair and finally accept what I am.
Antonio’s.
Dirty.
Little.
Fucking.
Whore.
Sixteen
HER
13August1947
I hate myself. I hate everything about me as Iliein Caden’s arms with his cock still inside me as he seeks comfort in the lying warmth of my body. I can never tell him the truth. Never break his heart over knowing that it isn’t just Antonio’s torture that has a grip on me. It’s some sick, twisted part ofmethat has a grip onhim.I might not have come that night in the woods, but I came over and over in my dreams. Even just thinking about how he brutalized me. How he took without asking. How he degraded me and stole every bit of my control… It makes me wet, my pussy squeeze. And I hate it. I hateme. What the fuck is wrong with me?
