Black Blood

‘What on earth did you think you were doing?’ his icy tone reverberates through the room.

After two years, I’m aware that he’s not looking for an answer or reaction, not this time either. The moment my husband stops in front of me, he delivers a hard blow to my right cheek. My head snaps to the left, but my legs remain shackled to the same spot.

‘I was excused by your father for an hour, I was hoping to surprise you,’ his words sound so soft, almost whispered, that it sends shivers of fear down my spine.

If he wanted to surprise me, he would run out of the castle and never come back. That would be a surprise that I would be happy with. He also knows that I am not happy with his so-called surprise.

‘How many times do I have to tell you to behave?’

I stand still in the same place and close my eyes.

‘Fortunately, I am forgiving today, but you do need to make it right.’

Slowly my husband walks past me, his hand touching my buttocks before he sits down at the end of our bed.

I don’t turn around and I don’t open my eyes. I don’t need to look at him to know what’s coming.

‘Sweetie, come here.’

In the past, I refused, screamed, and cursed him. Little by little, day by day, and time after time, I stopped resisting myself. After trying almost every way of refusing and escaping, I know that cooperating causes the least problems.

Slowly I turn around and walk towards Christiaan with my gaze fixed on the floor. The only thing that breaks the silence is the sound of my heels tapping on the floor, the sound of Christiaan opening his pants and the fabric falling down.

I don’t look at him as I kneel down in front of the man between his open legs. Nausea creeps up on me as my gaze falls on his manhood. I have never found the taste and feeling of that body part pleasant. Yet, I know the consequences if I refuse now, and I like those even less than the situation I am in now.

‘I don’t have all day.’

With those words, I know that I can’t drag it out any longer. I grab hold of the thing, bow my head, and place my lips around it.

Immediately, his hands disappear into my hair and move my head as if I am a toy without feeling.

My eyes squint shut, and my head tries to find a situation in which I can escape. I hope to divert my thoughts to the forest, the sky, or some simple event, as long as it’s not here. A memory or fantasy, it doesn’t matter.

I don’t know what makes intimacy enjoyable, I don’t know what it means to be in love or what makes sex pleasurable. I was sold to Christiaan as a virgin, doomed to know only this until my death.

The unpleasant sound that comes from Christiaan’s mouth does not make it any easier to divert my thoughts. The dirty panting and moaning make me feel even dirtier than I already do.

At first, I seemed to be counting the minutes, now I’m just waiting for it to be over. Fighting is useless, I never win. Screaming is useless, no one helps. I am alone.

Christiaan’s movements become harder, making the feeling even more unpleasant.

I have never understood why women would do this voluntarily. My jaw and neck hurt. The taste is disgusting, musty, and salty. The movements he makes with my head often make me almost gag.

The moans that leave his mouth are getting louder, which only means relief for me. The louder the moans, the faster it will be over.

For a moment, I thought I was lucky, until Christiaan grips my hair tighter and starts pulling hard. Not only my neck suffers, but also my hair roots. My head is forced to move up and down faster, increasing the burden and pain.

My eyes are tightly shut, and every second feels like an hour. Every movement increases the nausea and pain in my neck.

A louder moan leaves Christiaan’s mouth, announcing the end.

My head is roughly pushed down as the disgusting salty and musty fluid fills my mouth. I gag before being forced to swallow the liquid.

Christiaan holds me for a few seconds before pulling me back roughly by my hair. I fall backward before I can catch myself sitting with my right hand.

It’s the first time I look at him. He casually runs a hand through his hair before standing up and pulling up his pants. The look on his face suggests that nothing happened, but I can vaguely see a grin in the distance.

I want to curse him, hit him, or even break his neck, but I don’t stand a chance. I may have magic, but using it will only get me into more trouble than I already have.

This is my life, my daily routine. It’s a never-ending ritual that keeps repeating itself. This is the life of a black sheep, a bird in a cage, and a princess.

He walks past me without saying anything or looking at me. The belt is fastened in a smooth motion.

I don’t turn my head as he disappears from my sight. I know he has his hand on the doorknob and will leave the room at any moment.

‘Behave yourself, next time I won’t be so forgiving.’ The door opens and closes, and a sigh escapes my lips.