The shotgun wedding

The happy couple stands at the altar as the priest blesses them and their new life together. The bride’s veil covers her eyes which are cast down. Her husband’s seemingly supportive arm holds her. It’s too tight a hold. It hurts. But she doesn’t flinch. She is too numb to flinch.

The lovely young bride, a beautiful twenty year old virgin with cherry lips and flawless skin, has just given her life away. She barely knew the old man who was standing next to her. He was literally holding her up because her knees were weak and trembling. She could not understand how a good person like herself would end up with a man like this. She chastised herself for that thought because he was now her lawfully wedded husband. She stole a glance his way and shuddered. He wasn’t handsome at all. He had a permanent leer on his face and it made her skin crawl. How could she live with this man? How could she let him touch her? She didn’t know. All she knew was she must. She was now his.

Her lips trembled as the priest gave the final blessing.

"May the Lord in His goodness strengthen your consent and fill you both with His blessings.

What God has joined together, let no man put asunder."

Did God want this? She didn’t know. All she knew was that a week ago her plans were different. She was oblivious to her fate as the man who calls himself her father had drunk, gambled and squandered her mother’s precious gifts. Their house was gone. The money all dried up. She would have lost her last remaining relative if she had not agreed to this marriage. He would have killed her no good father and then taken her as payment for what was owed to him. She knew that and so she had done what a loving daughter would have done. She agreed to marry the monster if he left her father alone.

The deal was struck and now the wedding was over. Many admired the decorations in the church but she didn’t see them. She knew this beautiful wedding was a lie. The expensive princess style dress with all the trimmings fit for a princess meant nothing to her. All she could see was her life as a slave to this man. She was pure but not naïve. She sensed what kind of a man he was and yet she did not know why he wanted her. Now he had her and he was going to take her to another place far away. She was going to leave everything she had known and go with this man because she was now his wife. The poor girl resigned herself to her fate and doing what was necessary. Maybe he would be a good husband. Maybe his roughness could be overcome with her soft  gentleness.

As the couple turned to leave the church, the young bride glanced at the man who had given her away. Was there a hint of remorse in his grey eyes? She couldn’t tell. Would he see the sorrow and the fear in her own grey eyes if he looked carefully? Even if he knew she was scared, there was nothing he could do now. She looked away from him. He may have been her father but he was the reason she was being sold to this old man.

For all intents and purposes, her husband behaved like the perfect gentleman. He thanked well-wishers and petted her as he slowly led her to the waiting vehicle. She faked a smile as she threw the bouquet to the waiting throng of women. She didn’t bother to look back to see who had caught it. Chances were that she would not be able to come to her wedding if she were to marry next. The agreement was that she would always stay with her husband. She will never visit her father or anyone else from this small town.

The door to the car was opened and she was ushered inside. People surrounded the car, waving and congratulating them. She smiled at them as best as she could but she was all numb inside. She looked out of the window, at her father standing there as the car finally pulled away. Just then she felt him, his hand on her knee. She tried to ignore it as it rubbed slowly up and down her thigh and over the dress. He was still facing the window and smiling at the people outside. Once they had passed the masses, he turned his attention to his driver, giving him instructions that chilled her.

“And that my friend is how you end up with a beautiful flower of your own,” he said as he patted her thigh, the driver beaming and nodding back at him.

“Hurry up and drive. I want to get home and fuck my wife. She’s a virgin you know. Maybe I’ll need you to hold her down for me.”

-- The new bride’s torment--

“Wake up! Go make me breakfast! Now!”

She gasped awake and then lay back down stiffly. She was sore all over. She glanced at the time. It was just past 5am. Another day to get through. So far he hadn’t forced himself on her and for that she was thankful. It has been only a week after her wedding. She has already learnt things she would rather forget but which were now part of her. She closed her eyes and forced herself not to think about those things now.

The pretty twenty year old bride sat up gingerly, her legs touching the cold wooden floor as she ran her hands through her hair. She couldn’t avoid the cold metal band around her neck. It was heavy too and had a metal loop in it that left nothing to imagination regarding its purpose. The metal collar was locked into place with a large lock for which her husband had the only key. She shuddered as she got to her feet, shakily bringing both sides of her open nightgown around her lithe body. It was a silk gown, soft to the touch and gentle on her skin. It made her more sensitive to the rough handling she was given. Underneath that nightgown she was completely bare. That was how her husband wanted her, completely available to him. After all, she was his now.

She cowered as he appeared in their bedroom, just as she was about to make her way to the kitchen. She would boil some water for coffee and then make his breakfast. He ate like a pig. He was a pig. His belly was bigger than it had been a week ago at their wedding. He made her do all the house work, sitting around just watching her as she slaved away. She cooked, cleaned, did the laundry, the dishes, the floors. She was a slave to him and he made sure every task was done exactly how he wanted it. If not, he punished her. She didn’t want to be punished any more.

“Well good morning sweetheart. I trust you slept well!” he spoke in that frightening bellow of his. He liked to be loud and crude with her. He liked to see her jump in terror whenever he wanted to put her in her place. She didn’t reply to him. Only she knew the horrors that visited her during the nights with him.

“Come. I want eggs and sausages.” He took hold of her hair and pulled, making her crane her supple neck. He then attached a metal chain to the hoop in her collar. He smiled at her frightened face and bent down to kiss her. He felt her starting to shy away but she had learnt not to do that and so his lips touched hers. His chapped rough lips pressed against her soft petals, then he forced her to open her mouth and accept his tongue into her. The poor girl cringed, closed her eyes tight and tried to ignore the vile intrusion. His tongue kept dancing in her mouth, trying to play with her tongue as it shied away. Once he was satisfied that he had reached every corner in her oral cavity, he stopped and withdrew.

Without another word he turned around and dragged her along with him using the chain attached to her collar. Once in the kitchen, he locked the chain to a pipe on the wall. She had enough length to move around the kitchen. She could prepare his food at the stove and bring it to him on the table. She started to hurry, putting the kettle on before taking out the pans and utensils that were needed. He sat down at the small table and watched her. The nightgown was wrapped around her body giving him a nice view of her back side. He licked his lips as he watched her, his cock having been aroused by the rough kissing earlier.

She oiled and heated the pan. Then she broke the eggs and started to cook them. The sausages were put into a separate pan and heat applied. She started to stir them but froze as she felt him behind her. She kept stirring as she felt his hand caress her shoulders, running to the front of her night gown and pulling the two sides apart. She sobbed softly as her milky white breasts tipped with pink areoles and darker pink nipples spilled out into the heated air. She gasped and her body stiffened, only her hand moving to stir the food in each pan.

“Keep cooking and don’t burn my food,” he whispered at her ear, his hands pulling the hem of her nightgown up along her legs. Her legs started to tremble as he slowly pulled the soft material higher and higher until it was up around her shapely buttocks. He grasped one firm cheek and squeezed, digging his fingers into her soft flesh. She kept stirring, staring at the food, too afraid to move.

Despite herself, she almost squeaked when she felt his right hand sliding over her right hip and towards the junction between her legs. At the same time, he used his legs to spread hers, keeping his knees pressed against the inside of her soft feminine thighs so that she could not close them again. She was exposed and she felt her face heat up in shame. She didn’t struggle as he felt around her sex with his fingers, dipping them into her and making her stiffen even more.

“What did I tell you about keeping this wet for me? Now I will have to punish you.” Her velvet insides were not wet but warm and slightly damp.

She started to shudder fearfully, not knowing how he was going to punish her. She couldn’t get herself moist unless she splashed water on herself. She was too scared of him and his ways to be able to get wet the way he wanted. That doesn’t stop him though. She whimpered as he pulled her hips closer towards him, letting her feel his hard cock that he had taken out of his pants sometime during the molestation.

“A good wife should learn to please her husband,” he whispered into her ear before reaching over and turning down the heat on the stove.

“I will teach you. You will learn,” he said, repeating what he has said on previous occasions.  He roughly pulled her back to him, making her bend over towards the stove. Her back was arched and she felt the heat of the stove against her face. It was uncomfortable but what he was doing was even more so.

Her hand kept stirring the eggs as he lined his cock up against her sex.

“You will learn to fuck me proper,” he said before forcing his entire length into her pussy. He felt her inner walls convulse around him and groaned. His hands snaked under her arms and took hold of her breasts. Using them, he started to thrust himself into her.

She kept stirring and watching the food, tears rolling down her pretty face as she cried silently. She could do nothing to stop this.

He increased his thrusts, using her body with abandon. He twisted his hips, slamming up into her harder and faster. Soon he was forcing her up against the stove, her breasts in his large hands, his cock ramming inside her pussy. The tempo increased as did the sounds of the rape. Her thighs were now banging onto the stove as his thighs slapped against her from behind. She had to hold onto the stove with one hand as she stirred with the other.

He started to squeeze her breasts harder, grunting at her ear with each thrust into her. His fingers started to pinch and tug at her sensitive little nipples as he hammered into her pussy. The kitchen was filled with grunts and gasps, sobs and groans, slaps and bangs. The sounds increased with the urgency of his rutting until he pushed up into her one final time, forcing her feet to leave the ground as she cried out in despair.

She felt his cock throbbing inside her as he crushed her to him, his fingers hurting her soft breasts as his cock pressed up against her cervix. His cum jetted out of his cock, spraying inside her womb as her hands clutched tightly, the handle of the spoon and the stove itself providing little comfort to her. His hips kept jerking and pressing until she had to push herself away from the stove to prevent herself from getting burnt. Her hand had kept stirring through all this, tears rolling down her cheeks in continuous streams.

He slammed up into her once more and she felt more warmth spreading in her lower stomach. She shuddered as his sperm invaded her inner sanctum. He moaned in satisfaction, running his hands against her sides, feeling her body over the material that clung to her. Then he withdrew his cock and she heard the zip of his trousers. She felt her nightgown falling back into place and the flood of cum down the inside of her thighs.

She stood there for a moment, starring at nothing in particular, her mind hiding away yet knowing that she had just been raped and filled with her rapist husband’s cum. She felt helpless and used. She felt dirty and humiliated. She felt lost beyond hope.

She heard tapping behind her and quickly transferred the cooked eggs and sausages onto a plate. She didn’t bother to wipe at the tears as she took the plate to the small table. She placed the plate and the eating utensils in front of the vile man. She stood by and watched as he started to eat. So like a pig.

“Get under the table and start your breakfast,” he told her through a mouthful of egg. She gasped, her bottom lip quivering as if she would start to wail. But without a word she crawled under the table, unzipped his pants and took out the dirty cock that had defiled her.