Page 109 of Decimation

His hands leave my hair and go to my robe, ripping it away with savage tugs. The thin nightgown beneath offers no protection; he grabs the collar and tears it down the middle with a shriek of fabric, exposing my back, my shoulders, all the curve of my spine. I try to buck him off, but he merely presses his forearm into the back of my neck, pinning me down like a butterfly on a board.

I can’t move.

I can’t breathe.

Panic claws at my throat.

“No,” I gasp, the word muffled against the floor. “Please, Konstantine, don’t, don’t do this…”

He leans down, his lips brushing my ear. “You forgot your place, wife. You forgot that you belong to me. Body and soul.”

I feel him shift his weight, hear the only too familiar jingle of his belt buckle and the sound is a death knell. I start to thrash with everything I have left, but he only laughs and presses harder, his forearm grinding into my neck until bright spots dance in my vision and my limbs go weak.

The position is agonisingly vulnerable, my legs trapped beneath his, my bare skin exposed to the smoke-choked air. He forces my thighs apart with his knees, and I scream, a raw, ragged sound that echoes through the burning house.

The first invasion is like being split in two. He takes me with a single, brutal thrust, and the pain is so immense that my vision whites out.

I am tearing, I am burning, I am nothing but a vessel of agony as he takes what he wants again.

He groans above me, a sound of obscene satisfaction, and begins to move, each stroke a fresh violation, a fresh wound. My pleas dissolve into wordless, animal keening.

I can feel the rough floorboards scraping my skin raw, feel the hot trickle of blood where my lip has split, feel the weight of him, the invasion of him. The sheer, unrelenting horror of him.

He wraps a hand around my throat, squeezing just enough to cut off the edges of my consciousness, to make the world go dark and hazy at the margins.

“That’s it,” he pants, his rhythm speeding up. “Take it, wife. Take all of it.”

I am dissolving, fracturing, my mind scrabbling for any escape but there is none. Only his body, his voice, his madness.

Time stretches into an eternity of torment. I think I might die, but not from the smoke or the flames, from this, from the sheer violation. When he finally shudders to his climax, he collapses onto me, becoming a dead weight that smothers the last of my breath.

For a long moment we lie there, his heart pounding against my back, his come and my blood mingling in a sticky mess on my thighs. Then he rolls off me, and the sudden absence of his weight is almost a shock in itself. I hear him stand, hear him adjust his clothing while I lie motionless, pretending to be broken, pretending to be nothing.

But something small, fierce, and furious is kindling in my chest.

A tiny, flickering ember of defiance that refuses to die.

With a surge of desperate, last-ditch strength, I push myself up. My body shrieks in protest, but I ignore it as I lunge at him, catching him off guard.

I drive my knee into his groin with all the force I can muster. He doubles over, and I bring my elbow down on the back of his neck, a blow that sends him to his knees.

“You bitch!” he snarls.

I don’t relent. I am a wild thing now, all teeth and claws. I punch, I kick, I scratch. I get in a good, solid hit to his jaw that snaps his head back and makes him spit blood. I am screaming, a continuous, feral scream of rage and grief and pain.

But it isn’t enough.

It’s never enough.

He catches my wrist mid-swing, and his grip is iron, implacable. With a growl, he twists my arm behind my back, forcing me to my knees. The movement sends fresh agony tearing through my abused body.

I fight him still, stomping at his feet, trying to headbutt him, but he merely tightens his hold until I feel my shoulder joint creak dangerously.

“I know what you are, wife,” he breathes, panting. “You’re sin incarnate, a demon wearing my bride’s pretty face.”

“I’m not your bride!” I snarl, spitting at him.

He laughs, a wet, unhinged sound. “Oh, but you are.” He states.