Content warning: a tale of domestic violence and abuse
“I want sweet and sour chicken for dinner,” Craig says without looking up from his paper.
A chill runs down Livia’s spine, and she almost forgets to answer him. It’s the way his head stops moving that jerks her back to action.
“Okay,” she says meekly, “I will start the preparation.”
She gets up from the couch and goes to the kitchen, lead in her shoes. The last time he has ordered a specific dish for dinner has been a disaster. She fears it will be again. And that’s not her only fear.
Livia busies herself with the preparation, reading every sentence in the recipe several times before she measures the ingredients, adds them to the others or stirs in the pans. She wants it to be perfect.
She’s startled when Craig walks into the kitchen and put his arms around her from the back, kissing her neck.
“It smells delicious, my love,” he says, and hope glimmers inside. Maybe today it will be different.
When they finally sit down to eat — Livia has set the table with the utmost care — she had a knot in her stomach. As always, she first dishes up his food onto his plate, then her own.
He breathes in deeply, smiles at her, and says: “If it tastes as good as it smells…”
Craig doesn’t finish his sentence. Livia just sits there with her fork in her hand. She watches him, and only when he was halfway through his food, did she relax enough to eat her own.
She’s naked in the bathroom, getting ready for bed, when Craig walks in behind her. Livia smiles at him in the mirror, surprised, as they are barely ever in the bathroom together.
Anger distorts his face.
Her heart misses a beat.
Before she can turn around, he grabs her neck from behind and pushes her face against the mirror.
“When will you ever learn to cook? I said sweet and sour chicken, not sweet and sweet.”
Livia struggles to free herself, but to no avail. Craig is far stronger than her. She hates this side of him, and in this moment wonders why she hasn’t left him the last time. Or the time before that.
“But you took a second helping…” she mumbles in defiance and instantly understands how wrong it has been to speak up.
With his hand still on her neck, Craig turns her around and steers her to the bedroom, where he throws her on the bed. Livia tries to crawl to the other side of the bed, but he grabs her foot and pulls her back, lifts his hand and smacks her across the face.
She tastes blood.
Another slap lands on her other cheek.
“Craig, please,” she says, holding her arms in front of her face in defense. He doesn’t seem to hear as he grabs her wrists, then slaps her again. Livia cries and pleads.
“Please, Craig. Stop. Please, please, please…”
“Oh, the lady is begging. Open your legs then if you want it so much!”
He doesn’t wait for her to act, but grabs her legs, throwing her onto her back, and throws himself onto her. The penetration is harsh and painful, but Livia keeps still while he fucks her in a rage. She prays for her body to lubricate her tender folds.
Livia has her head turned away, not wanting to look at Craig while he defiles her. In her head, she repeats the mantra: it will be over soon, it will be over soon.
The next morning, she wakes up in Craig’s arms.
After the anger fuck the night before, she has lain rigid beside him, listening to his deep breathing and snoring, unable to fall asleep.
She makes a move to pull out of his arms, but that wakes him up. He pulls her back into his embrace.
“Good morning, my love. Have I told you today how much I love you?”
Livia keeps quiet. She knows the drill.
He kisses her neck, and his hand finds her naked breast.
“I love you, my darling. You are my everything.”
Once more, he kisses her neck, while his hand gently kneads her breast.
“Do you love me?” he asks.
“Yes,” she whispers.
He pushes up on his elbow so he can see her face. Looking deep into her eyes — she doesn’t dare avert her face from his — he lowers his lips to hers, and his hand to her crotch. Ever so gently, he circles her clitoris, and soon she loses herself in the betrayal of her body.
Or was it her mind?
She knows the man he is, and every time she accepts his wordless apologies. Pushing the thoughts away, she arches her back as an orgasm erupted from her core, and she opens her legs to invite him in.
Afterwards he rolls away from her and gets up. Just before he enters the bathroom, he turns around, a radiant smile on his face.
“Shall we go out for dinner tonight?”
© Rebel’s Notes
Image from Pixabay