Grabbing my chin holding my head in place, his big hand forcing my mouth open, as he shoved his slender finger into my mouth all sticky and wet, smelling like me. Our eyes met I would teach him to respect me, I bit down hard on his finger. His slap left me seeing stars, the others’ laughter rang in my ears. He whispered, “Just wait bitch, you’ll get yours.” I had a sense of rage about him that stopped me dead. I knew I had made a bad mistake. As I was fighting to avoid tasting myself, the man named Jimmy, was attaching the chains to my nipple rings. ‘It doesn’t hurt,’ flashed through my mind, so I gave little thought to his action, my aching head had my attention. “Give me those chains. I want to be the one to make the bitch swing.” Buddy piped up taking my side, “Later when she is healed you can make her swing from her tits if you want, but not now. You hear me, Ron?” “Yeah.” He grumbled. He pulled on the chains, I watched it as it rolled over the pulley at the ceiling. The pain. A warm summer breeze blows through the open window, where outside the sun tips down below the horizon. The movement of the curtains, the noise of the wind through them, is the only thing to break the silence.Then he goes to her.He strides towards their marital bed as his wife removes her veil, laying it delicately to one side. An inviting smile curves her full and pouty lips, red as roses, and her perfume fills the air. Her husband takes her hand, and their ringed fingers entwine as his other arm he loops around her, drawing her towards him. Their kiss is passionate, yet gentle.Together, they remove her wedding dress. Together, they remove his black tuxedo. Together, they settle onto the bed.Her lingerie is flattering, but no silk could be as soft as her bare, smooth skin. Her husband peels each item off her as if unwrapping a present, even as she unbuckles his belt and draws down his trousers. They kiss one another as they do it, sometimes gentle, sometimes fierce. Soon she is.
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