Oink! Oink! Goes the Human Race

“There is no more lovely, friendly and charming relationship, communion or company,
than a good marriage.” -Martin Luther

“Amadeus?”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever wanted to make someone happy?”

The high-noon sunlight gives her eyes the appearance of molten emeralds, and I find them difficult to look into. There is an unnerving quality to her gaze, and as paranoid and cliché as it sounds, I feel as if she can see right through me. The green orbs leave me feeling naked and exposed, weighing me, judging me. Turning toward the Rugby pitch, I gather my thoughts, and then face her once more.

I reach out and tuck loose strands of blood-red hair behind her ear. “No.”

She flinches backward, a puzzled grimace crinkling her nose. “Why not?”

I motion for her to come closer to me, and she obeys. She gasps in surprise as I take her in my arms and perch my chin atop her head.

“Can anyone ever really make anybody else happy? Is that the mortgage which we pay for this life on Earth? To sacrifice ourselves for another person's happiness? Is it not possible for a man to live without buying into the guise of altruism?”

“Amadeus, what are you talking about?”, I feel her squirm.

“Evelyn...people are pigs. Fat. Filthy. Greedy. Swine. There is no such thing as a random act of kindness. Selflessness does not exist. Where the naïve and innocent see charity, those who have seen man's unmasked ugliness know there is an ulterior, self-serving motive behind every act. If I were to, out of the blue, give you an expensive gift tomorrow, how would you react?”

“I-I would be grateful. I'd want to return the kindness somehow.”

“Exactly. Your moral code wouldn't allow you to do otherwise. You are now unwillingly indebted to me, and I could continue these random acts of kindness to increase that debt. I could be doing this to inflate my own ego, I could be doing this to appear the gentleman in front of my friends, I could be doing this to snatch a piece of what's under your skirts-”

“Amadeus!”

“However! No matter the specific reason, my actions are entirely self-motivated. It's about what I want, not you. My happiness, not yours. I'm only gratifying my own emotional greed.”

She sighed a long sigh and her shoulders fell. It was as if another little piece of the bubble she lived in had slowly deflated. I often had that effect on her.

“Well, Amadeus, are you a pig?”

I run my fingernails down the length of her spine. “No, baby, I'm the butcher.” I laugh softly into her crimson locks.

She's silent for a time. “Where did you say your parents were on vacation to again?”

In the distance, a crow takes flight.

…...

“You just need one last thing.”

Dr. Amadeus Prince LXVI approached his daughter, holding the tiara reverently with both hands. You would have never known that it was over 4,000 years old, the way it sparkled in the dim lighting. A large emerald was set in the center of the precious silver, flanked by two embossed scorpions, the Prince family sigil.

He gently placed the tiara on top of Christine's shimmering, ebony hair. “There,” he cooed, “a perfect princess.” Upon examining her reflection in the mirror, Eileen truly couldn't argue. She donned a heavily antiquated, though no less stunning gown of black and forest green. The edges of the fabric were lined with a silky material, on which little green scorpions were embroidered. Around her neck hung an elaborate emerald necklace. Her hair was an artful tumble of curls inlaid with little white flowers.

She looked the part of a bride in dress, to be sure, but her sullen expression wouldn't look out of place on a death row inmate. Despite the dread gnawing at her insides, she would voice no argument. Open dissent would be about as fruitful as pissing in the wind at this point. Her fate had been decided and it's cold, cruel hand would yield no mercy.

Her train of thought was derailed by long-fingered hands embracing her shoulders. “You wear that dress as beautifully as your mother did. She did fill out the front better, but you look to be a vision of loveliness nonetheless.” He kissed her cheek.

“Uh...thank you, father. That means a lot to me.”

“Please, princess, do try and smile, you want to look perfect for your future husband, don't you?”

“I'll get into character when it comes time for me to play my part in this dog and pony show.”

His hands tightened around her shoulders to the point where his fingernails were close to breaking the skin. “Don't f**k this up, Christine. Now!, he said, with a complete 180 degree change of tone, let's get on with the happiest day of your life.” Though expected, she was still revolted by his beaming smile. Taking her by the arm and opening the front door, they strolled down the walkway of their home towards Dr. Prince's black Mercedes.

Cousin Amadeus lived on the outskirts of Frankfurt, in a home that could be described as somewhere between upper-middle class and mildly wealthy. The living room was large and presentable enough to hold the wedding ceremony in, especially considering there would only be 12 or so guests. Dr. Prince took a moment to examine himself in a small hand mirror, primped his golden hair, and then led his daughter up the walkway and knocked on her future husband's door.

“Jenny, Jenny, Jenny, I'm gonna make you mine!”, her father exclaimed, beaming with outstretched arms.

“Amadeus, baby! Christine! Willkommen! Come on inside!” A hand bearing overly-long, chintzy red nails ushered them inside.

Her father lifted Aunt Jennifer by the waist and spun her around while she giggled and squealed like an overgrown schoolgirl. “Oh little brother, I couldn't be happier to see you, you handsome devil! I swear, you look skinnier every time I see you. You lose the weight and I find it, that must be how it works.”

“Nonsense!, her father said, loosening her grip on her so as to survey the gaudily dressed woman. You're as beautiful as you were since you were 18! Besides, I like a woman who has some meat on her bones.”, he gave his sister a firm pinch on the behind.

“Oh! You dog!,” she laughed. “Whatever shall I do with my naughty, naughty baby brother?”, she said mock-chidingly. And you! Christine! Get over here and give your old, fat aunt a hug!”

Between her Aunt's ample bosom and the noxious, choking fumes of at least an entire bottle of perfume on her skin, Christine silently prayed she would asphyxiate before the ceremony. Sadly, she did not get her wish. “Now you come with me right upstairs, sweetheart, with it being bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress and all that.”

She was whisked up the foyer stairs to a room at the end of the hall, where another large, opulent mirror and two female...thralls stood. Their empty, lifeless stares drank her in with the vaguest understanding. A trickle of drool escaped one's lips and she dropped her eyes in discomfort. The Prince family, in their never-ending quest to one-up just about everyone, did not believe in just hiring help. Instead, they shelled out thousands of Deutschmarks for a thrall or two. Thralls were slaves typically abducted from poverty stricken and war torn areas (the shipments had been pouring in from Greece and Poland lately) who were trained into servitude. To ensure their unconditional obedience, thralls were partially lobotomized, as well as having their vocal cords removed. Because of this, they had little more than the mental capacity to feed themselves, use the toilet, and perform the basic household tasks which they were assigned.

Looking up again, Christine noticed something unnerving about the thrall which the family simply called J. J's hair was painted an unnatural shade of vibrant red, and her breasts were disproportionately large compared to the rest of her body. It wasn't uncommon to keep a thrall as a bed slave. They were spayed or castrated upon sale and trained not to resist the touch of their masters. It made her wonder...until Aunt Jenny began assaulting her face with brushes and powder puffs to complete the finishing touches on her makeup.

“Oh! Darling! Your cousin is just going to eat you up! He's been waiting for this day for so long.”

“Has he, Aunt Jenny?”, she replied conversationally.

“Why of course! You are just the prettiest little young thing in this family!”, she said in a voice that could give cake diabetes.

“I'm the only little young thing in this family.”

For a split second a slight grimace tainted her Aunt's overly-happy features, as if it were a pang of jealousy. “Well, dearest, you and my darling son will get to remedying that problem tonight, now won't you?”

Touche. “I-I suppose we will, Aunt Jenny. I look forward to it.”, she replied robotically.

The thralls smoothed her dress and took care of any loose hairs on her while Aunt Jenny continued plastering her face with cosmetics and dousing her in perfume. When all the poking and prodding was done it was finally time to begin the ceremony. Aunt Jenny led her back down the stairs to the foyer, where her father stood outside the entrance to the living room, ready to take her by the arm and lead her down the aisle.

The tune of Here Comes the Bride struck her like a death knell. Arm-in-arm, she and her father met the beaming glances of a select few Rockerfellers, Warburgs, Krupps, Hanover's and even a distant half Rothschild or two. Toothless, chain-smoking great grandma Azalia Prince was seated in the back row. Christine also spied Maximillian and Kristella Studworth, the richest and most influential family next to the Rothschilds. Step by step, the ebony clad bride made her way down the aisle. When her hands began to shake halfway to the alter, her father paid no mind. A few moments later, she was standing face-to-face with cousin Amadeus.

If there ever a way to slingshot a jerk right into shitlord territory, put a crown on his head. A grin cleaved his face from ear to earringed ear. His white-blonde hair framed his ice blue eyes in an artful mess about his smug visage. The golden, emerald bedecked crown of Amadeus The Great served to complete the picture.

“My Queen!, he genuflected and kissed her hand, “You look absolutely radiant.”

“I am pleased you find me so, m'Lord.”, Christine gave a small curtsy. As ridiculous as the titles and customs seemed to her, in typical Prince fashion, it was expected that tradition be upheld.

The Magistrate cleared his throat. “Shall we proceed?”

“By all means.”, cousin Amadeus replied, with a sickly sweet smile.

“Who presents this woman?”

“I do.”, Her father bowed. Cousin Amadeus took her hands in his. His touch was cold. He drew her nearer to him, and as he did this, the right sleeve of his black and green ceremonial robes slipped upward, revealing his forearm. She would have thought nothing of it, had it not been for the veins. Their purplish-red hue was screamingly vibrant against the contrast of his pale skin. They snaked up his arm, practically protruding through the skin in a grotesque, unnatural fashion. Cousin Amadeus, quickly realizing he was...exposed, hurriedly tugged down his sleeve, his face flushing in what looked to be an expression that was half embarrassment and half worry.

“My good fellows, we are gathered here today to join Amadeus Prince, the 68^th of his name, into the sacred union of matrimony with Christine Prince, daughter of Dr. Amadeus Prince, the 66^th of his name. Let us rejoice in the coming together of two people whose hearts and spirits are already entwined as one. You are adding to your life not only the affection of each other, but also the companionship and blessing of a deep trust as well. You are agreeing to share strength, responsibilities and love. Love is cultivating flexibility, patience, and understanding. Love is having the capacity to forgive and forget. Love is giving each other an atmosphere in which each can grow.

Love is the tepid hands of your cousin touching you in places you'd rather not think about, she thought bitterly. The Magistrate continued to drone on about the delights of everlasting love, two souls joining as one and something about quivers full of children. She broke out of her bored daze when it came time to make the vows.

“Do you, Amadeus Prince LXVIII, take Christine Prince to be your lawful wedded wife? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect her, as long as you live?”

“I do.”

“Do you, Christine Prince, take Amadeus Prince LXVIII to be your lawful wedded husband? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and obey him, as long as you live?”

“I do.”, she droned.

“Then by my divine right, I now pronounce you man and wife.”, He gestured a hoary-fingered hand to a cherubic faced little boy who was moseying down the aisle on tiny legs. On a shimmering silken ivory and gold pillow were two golden rings. With delicate grace, the Magistrate picked up the larger of the two rings and placed it on her new husband's thumb. He placed the remaining one on her own. That's right, she remembered, thumbs. To denote an inter-familial marriage. A proud, inter-familial marriage. The combination of words brought the taste of bile to her tongue. She had just enough time to swallow back the vomit before the Magistrate uttered “You may now kiss the bride.”

Cousin Amadeus wrapped his hands around her shoulders, bent down, and gave her a jarring, overly-forceful kiss, dipping her back slightly. Somewhere, in the deep, cavernous, oubliette of her heart, where a starry-eyed, summer-drunk teenage girl and a glimmer of hope still lived, the smallest voice cried out. Maybe it will be like the fairy tales, the songs, the sitcoms. Perhaps that wholly unheralded, electrifying spark of enchantment from God-knows-where will somehow kindle and catch fire, and I will open my eyes and see him in new light. Her eyes fluttered open. Nope. Nothing. His touch was beginning to feel more and more like an annoying, itchy garment that she wanted to tear off; the cheers and applause of the guests like insects buzzing in her ears.

Once again biting back bile, she forced the corners of her mouth into a hollow smile, and faced the gaping maw'd caricatures of powder faced aristocrats waiting to congratulate her. Aunt Jenny immediately ran up to cousin Amadeus and wildly embraced him, jumping up and down in an embarrassing fashion and yelling about how her baby was finally wed. Gimbiatti Lestrange greeted her with a wide smile, revealing a glimmering gold tooth and wished her many years of happiness. Jebediah Rockerfeller shook her hand in his many-ringed one and shouted “Reines blut stolz!” Kristella Studworth, practically dripping diamonds, gracefully sauntered her way.

“My dear, sweet, Christine! You look simply exquisite!”, she proclaimed in her refined, American accent.

“Thank you, Lady Studworth. I'm so very honored that you and your husband traveled all the way from California just to be here.”

“Oh, darling!”, she purred, “It was no trouble at all, I assure you. We wouldn't miss the wedding of the last little Prince girl for the world.”

“You-you are truly good people.”, she let her face fall, honesty cracking through her voice. “You have helped us so much more than you know...these past years. I don't know how to thank you.”

“There is no need, child. No need for that at all. We're here to aid you, always.”, she softly spoke.

Christine glanced towards her father, who was whispering something in Aunt Jenny's ear, causing her to blush and howl with laughter. The disdain in her glance could not be masked.

“We have done nothing to deserve that protection.”

Lady Studworth frowned and cupped Christine's cheek, genuine sadness reflecting in her blue-green eyes. She leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

“I know this all seems unfair, sweet child, but please, do try to understand. As cliché as it sounds, your father only wants the best for you. After all, he's in such an awful position right now. He's told me how he lies awake at night, wondering if they'll knock on his door and drag him off to a black cell in god knows where. How you'll have no one to look out for you, that his legacy will be scattered to the winds.”

He could have fled to South America with his partner. I'm a grown woman, I can look out for myself, and piss on his legacy. She could have argued, but why bother? “I understand, Lady Studworth.”

She smiled softly, “Everything will be okay, sweetheart. Now come on, they're starting dinner and presents in the next room.” Lady Studworth took her gently by the hand and walked her to the table.

Christine spent the next hour pushing around a procession of salads, schnitzels, and beef concoctions around on her plate, taking a bite here and there to soak up the copious amounts of champagne she was drinking. She was never much one for the drink, but she didn't see any other option, lest tonight be anything short of torture. Her father was celebrating in much the same fashion, blowing through champagne glasses and taking more enjoyment in rubbing his sister's back than any man ever should. Her new husband sat at the opposite end of the table, eying her in much the same way as he did his food.

When the meal and following cake was through, it came time to open the presents. One by one, she and cousin Amadeus were handed frilly, white and silver packages. Some of them contained jewelry for her, others nifty household odds and ends. She watched as her father handed a sparkling, golden wrapped and bowed package to cousin Amadeus. He tore off the wrapping paper eagerly, revealing an ornate, carved, cherry-wood box. Delicately undoing the clasp, he lifted the lid of the box only a sliver, so as to discreetly see what was inside. When he did, he closed it, and shot Dr. Prince a sly smile, as if they were sharing some private joke. Her father responded in kind, with a nod of his head and a wink. Probably full of girly photos or something, the dirty b******s.

One thrall took the bounty of wedding gifts into the bride and groom's bedchamber while the other began to clear the table. Suddenly, a knock was heard at the door.

“Ah! The band is here!”, Squealed Aunt Jenny. She hurriedly led them into the room. Deftly, they set up harp and lute, piano and horn with graceful professionalism. Christine downed another glass of champagne. Without wasting any time, the band broke into the beginning notes of the family's traditional song, The Ballad of Amadeus The Conqueror.

“I believe it is tradition that the newly wed Lord and Lady have the first dance.”

She turned to find cousin Amadeus grinning at her with an outstretched hand.

“Of course, m'Lord.”, she smiled, taking his hand. He led her to the center of the floor, as the leader of the band rang out the first verse.

And what might have you?

The dread King said,

That I'd lay down my sword?

Bend your knee,

And bow to me,

Lest your kingdom face my horde.

He swept her to and fro across the dance floor with surprising grace as more and more couples joined in. Christine laid her head against his shoulder in an attempt to feel some...tenderness, the slightest touch of warmth. The champagne had her feeling slightly swimmy in the head and had begun to rouse some life into her womanhood, but not enough yet to make the prospect of cousin Amadeus seem appealing.

May it take a month, a year, or three,

Be it sorcery or steel.

Thine streets shall run red,

Thine blood shall be shed,

And what's left of you shall kneel.

“So, Amadeus, what was in that box my father gave you?” It may seem like prying, but after all, I am his wife now.

“That box? Oh, just a few things to have fun with.”, he chuckled.

And so he rode, and so he rode,

The King that knew no fear,

From North to South,

To East to West,

Until the death screams were heard by every ear.

“Fun?”

“Yes, fun. Do you like to have fun, Christine?”, He looked at her mischievously, poked at his forearm with two fingers, and winked. She had the feeling she was obviously missing the key point of whatever double-entendre he was going for.

“Fun...yes, I like to have fun. Do you remember when we were little and you used to play chess with me?”, She asked him innocently.

He began cackling so hard that spittle misted her ear. “Chess! Chess!”, he chortled, “Oh, you pretty little idiot. You're as innocent as a doveling, aren't you? HA!”

The spears they flew,

The body count grew,

As his armies thundered in by flood,

And every man that rose against him,

Paid for that right in blood.

She didn't quite know how to respond to that. “I-I suppose it's been a long time since we've seen each other, sweet cousin. It seems we have much to catch up on.”

“Well, dearest, we're married now. We'll have plenty of time for that, after I f**k you.”, he punctuated the whispered statement by slowly licking her earlobe, finishing off with a graze of his teeth.

And so he rode, and so he rode,

The King that knew no fear,

From North to South,

To East to West,

Until the death screams were heard by every ear.

Perhaps the gesture, in his own skewed mind, was intended to be endearing. To Christine, it was too much. She abruptly ended the dance, wriggling her arms away from his grasp, and walked away from him as gracefully as she could. By the grace of god, a thrall was passing by with a tray of drinks. She grabbed a fluted pink concoction and greedily gulped it down. Doubling over, she sputtered and hacked, not expecting such a timid-hued drink to be so firesome. Her vision blurred as she grabbed the first seat she could and unceremoniously plopped down upon it. To her left, sat Gimbiatti Lestrange.

“Seniore Lestrange, would you happen to have a cigarette?”, She asked, trying her best not to slur.

“My Lady, I am trying to quit.”

“Pity, I'm trying to start.”

Looking at her awkwardly, Gimbiatti handed her a cigarette, and lit it with a match.

“Thank you, Seniore.”

Christine Prince put her most gracious attempt forward to venture to the backyard. When she stepped out, she was greeted by the crisp, misted taste of mid-autumn air. She took a drag of her cigarette, it tasted like mint crossed with road mud. Watching the gossamer tendrils of smoke drift and dissipate brought her a slight wave of calm...which was unfortunately short-lived when the sound of moaning reached her ears. It was coming from the side of the house. God be damned, father, you and Aunt Jenny just couldn't wait, could you? Yet when she strode to the source of the sound, she didn't see a grotesque display of fornication between her father and aunt.

The thrall's garish, crimson painted hair flew about in a rhythmic mess in time with his thrusts. Stepping closer, she could hear the regular thump-thump-thump of her head hitting the siding of the house. He had her serving dress pulled down about her waist, and the skirts hiked up to her hips. It was like watching a high-speed traffic accident unfold before her; as indecent as it was to look upon, a morbid fascination kept her eyes glued to the scene. The thrall's dead eyes looked into his face the entire time, showing only the barest iota of understanding as to what was happening. There was no resistance on her part. She knows what she was bought for. Christine's stomach turned as she watched a rivulet of drool spill onto the thrall's exposed breast. She had seen enough.

“Amadeus!”

He turned to her startled, nearly dropping the thrall...and then continued the deed. “Just, give me a second.”, he said breathlessly. “I'm almost there, sweet cheeks.”

There was not enough booze or nicotine in the world to curb the edge on what was happening right now. She just stood there, black eyes wide and blanker than the thrall's. She went to take a drag on her cigarette, but it had already ashed down to the filter. A thousand thoughts flew through her mind, each more violent that the last. I am going to walk out of this house wearing a suit made out of my father's skin, drinking gin out of my aunt's thick, empty skull, and drive away in a car with my husband's c**k as a hood ornament.

Cousin Amadeus, who had apparently reached satisfaction as his new wife contemplated

what he would look like without a head, ordered the thrall to wash her hands and make sure the ice cube trays were filled. He turned to face Christine.

“I'm sorry you had to see that, dearest, but well, you know how trigger happy the first soldier is.”, he put his hands on her waist. “You have to get him knocked out before the real action sta-”

She slapped him so hard he nearly fell backwards. He stared at her, crown askew on his head, utterly dumbstruck, nursing his cheek.

“DON'T TOUCH ME! I don't believe this, I don't believe you-”

“Relax, Christine! It was only a thrall. I was only getting ready for you.”

“Getting ready for me!? Oh no, Amadeus. You get ready for a jog with a stretch, you get ready for a meal with an appetizer. You do not get ready for your wife with a W***E!”, she spat, black eyes flashing.

“Listen, sweets, I didn't think you'd take it so personally. It won't happen again, I promise.”, he reached out to take her hand, which she violently slapped away.

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH ME!”, she was breathing heavy, her teeth were bared. With a deep breath she tried to regain what was left of her composure. “So you promise it won't happen again? Well, that's just lovely. I'm so glad this little roadbump in our loving partnership has been smoothed out! After all, I'm just so LUCKY to have you! I couldn't be more proud to be the wife of Amadeus LXVIII! It's been my one dream since I was a little girl to be married to such an abhorrent, pompous, insufferable, dunderheaded, PIG!”

He wiped her spittle from his eyes. “Christine...”

“Do you think I want to be here!? Do you think I wanted any of this? Did you think I wanted...you?”

He staggered back slightly, as if she had slapped him again. He was silent for a time. “No.”, he met her eyes with stony resolve. “But, you have me, and I have you, and this can either be easy or hard.”

Tears welled in her onxy eyes. She slowly walked backwards, nearly tripping on her heels. Turning away from him, she began to weep in earnest, and slowly tread back into the house.

Inside, the festivities continued. Gimbiatti Lestrange was beyond drunk and telling bawdy jokes to a group of howling men and blushing women. A few of the Warburgs got together and were shooting dice at a table in the corner. Towards the back of the room she could spy her father's face buried in tits the size of bolsters, which belonged to none other than Aunt Jenny. No one paid any mind to the crying bride in the middle of the room. Between the booziness caused by the drinks and her jumpy, restricted breathing, the circus of filth before her began to blur and spin. Stumbling, she found the stairs, and walked up to her new bedroom.

Slamming the door shut behind her, she quickly slipped out of her cumbersome bridal gown and threw it into a heap on the floor. Wearing nothing but her skivvies and jewels, she sank into a chair that was set by a vanity immediately to her right. In her reflection, she saw her eyes were raw from crying, her makeup, haphazard smears of red, purple, and black across her face. Her hair was a ratty mess of midnight curls sticking out every which way from underneath a tilted tiara. A fitting image for this fairytale ending.

Looking into the mirror again, she spied something hanging from the canopy of the bed behind her. It was a lacy, red neglige, complete with feathers around the top. No doubt, this was the garb intended for her virginity to be served in tonight. A fresh wave of tears and rage came over her. She sprung to her feet, knocking the chair to the floor. In one fell swoop, she tore the offending garment off the hanger and began assaulting it. Piece by piece she tore it to shreds, lacy shrapnel and red feathers fluttering down around her. As if she could not be pushed further, cousin Amadeus entered the room.

He looked upon her with wide, confused eyes. “Not a fan of Victoria's Secret, I take it?”, he smirked. She glared daggers at him. Sighing, he placed the crown of Amadeus the Conqueror on the bedside table and ran a hand through his spiky, white-blond hair. Curiously, he picked up a loose red strip of the once-lingerie and began tying it tightly around his forearm.

“Listen, Christine...”, he said, as he brought out the wooden box her father had given him earlier. “I know we're not exactly Cinderella and Prince Charming.” He lifted the lid. Inside were tiny little bags, each stamped with little stars and the phrase 'cloud 9' on them. “But, you're here, I'm here...I say we try and make the best of things.” He opened up a small drawer on the nightstand, and pulled out a syringe, a lighter, and a spoon. Eileen gaped at him in disbelief. “I think you should have some, it'll help you relax.”

“You're joking, right?”

“Your dad brews the finest China White in the business. Nothing but your loss there, sweetheart.”

Christine crossed her arms and angrily sat on the edge of the bed, looking out the window. She brooded in silence, noticing for the first time the full moon that hung over the black horizon. How poetic... Her musings were interrupted by the cold, veiny, hands of cousin Severus undoing the clasp of her bra.

“What are you doing?”, she snapped, turning around.

He looked at her as if she had just grown a second head. “Consummating our marriage.”, he stated matter-of-factly.

“Amadeus.”, she sighed and looked at him pleadingly. “My head hurts, I'm tired, I'm drained in every way possible. Please...can't we just do this another night?”, She all but begged.

His face turned to stone in the darkness. “I realize we're very different people, Christine, but I have put forth every effort tonight to make you a happy little bride. All of which, has been met by your bitching, your complaining, your shrieking, your assaults and your tears. Take off your f*****g panties. Now”

“No, Amadeus. Please...”, she cried and trembled.

Reaching into the drawer where he got the syringe and spoon, he produced a small object.

“Amadeus, please...”

He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her onto the bed with such force that for a terrified second she feared it had been ripped from it's socket. From the tiny object flipped open a blade that shone razor sharp in the moonlight. He grabbed her close and held her tightly from behind. Christine went numb. All she could feel was the blade against her throat, his throbbing manhood against her thighs, and her rapid pulse pounding in her ears.

“I told you, sweetheart, this can either be easy,” he hacked off her panties with the switchblade. “Or, this can be hard.”

He rammed her in one stroke.

Author's Note

I swear shit gets more interesting in Part 2.