*Author's note: All publishing rights to this story belong to Piper320. This isn't a wham bam thank you ma'am story. The characters slowly build and if you're not into non-con, please don't read this. Thanks bebes!
Marigold Fontenot, Mari as her friends called her, stood beside the fishing pond, line bobbing in the water; humming some Aerosmith. The late spring day was already warm, the humidity making her tank top and shorts stick to her slick skin. The sun beamed on her through the pines; their trunks and branches casting shadows on her so she wouldn’t burn. She was one of the only girls in Bayou with pale skin which wouldn’t tan. Life wasn’t always fair.
She felt a pull on the line, her hand vibrating as the fish tugged on the filament trying to escape with its life. Her nimble fingers began to reel it in, her bare toes hugging the banks of the squishy pond. She saw a flash of scales as sunlight bounced off them, causing a metallic glow.
She reeled, the fish splashing to shore, fighting and flopping against the inevitable outcome. It was just a bass but Marigold was hungry, and this would do fine for supper. She needed a few more before she went home to her Daddy and Mama. To her impoverished house set back from the country roadside. Poverty and Marigold were best friends.
There were no opportunities in a place like Bayou for a girl. Well, there were, but none she wanted anything to do with. Oh no, Marigold loved to read and write fantastical stories. Stories in which people had food, a comfortable roof over their head, a job. Where they felt safe, loved, wanted.
Fictional stories in which people had few worries, little stress, a reason to get up in the morning. She knew these types wouldn’t be fantasy to everyone, but to Marigold Fontenot; they were as farfetched as stories of aliens and hobbits.
She shook her head, a small smile playing across her elfin face. If her Mama and Daddy could hear her thoughts, know her private dreams; they’d beat her senseless. She was just a country girl, living in a Podunk town with no prospects ahead of her. Or so they believed.
Marigold knew better. She would find a way to get money. She’d fight, scratch, and claw her way towards a college degree no matter what it took. She would leave this place behind. Nothing held her here. Why was she still staying in one spot? Why, at eighteen, was she laying down and dying? Life was full of choices. She was just stubborn enough to believe she could make them work out for her.
She stared down at the fish as it struggled for air. Her tiny hand reached down, easily unhooking the bass from the line. She looked into bulging eyes, and instead of seeing dinner; she saw something else that deserved freedom. With a gentle toss, the sound of a splash greeted her ears and the fish disappeared.
It would still be caught, but in someone else’s snare. Not hers. Not today. Today, Marigold was going to run away and start a brand new life. A life of freedom. A life based solely on her personal choices. A life worth living. Today, was the start of a new experience.
Another smile crossed her face as she turned, picking up the woven basket containing the fish from earlier. She’d take these to her Mama and Daddy. She’d grab a few of her favorite books, some clothes, and while they were distracted fighting with one another; she’d run. A bright future lay ahead of her. Marigold was finally going to make something of herself.
“I don’t understand why you have to take our Marigold. She done nothin’ wrong.”
“Well now Mrs. Bertha, you and Kerry sure seem fit to be tied. Them bills you owe seem to keep collectin, and we figure we never gonna see any of our money back.”
“So you takin’ Marigold away?”
“And she can work to pay off your debt, then she can come on back home.”
Marigold saw the glare her Mama gave her Daddy. She was blaming him for getting them into this mess. Marigold had seen that look many times before. It made her Mama, already overweight, tired and haggard looking; grow uglier.
She saw a triumphant expression spread across the old man’s face, as well as his son Jackson’s. The Broussard’s were the power holders of the town of Bayou, Alabama. Claude, his sons Jackson and Shane, and nephew Terry; had their hands in more pots then Marigold could possibly imagine.
All drugs, illegal swag, money deals, and prostitution went through the Broussard clan. Marigold knew exactly what they were going to use her for, and it made her sick. They could try and make her. She’d never give in. She’d rather be dead. Her life may not have been considered idyllic to most, but it was better than being used and abused by the men she’d seen for eighteen years in this town.
She could imagine their leering smiles, their rough hands, the gleeful look in their tired eyes, ones only livened by the idea of fucking young girls like herself; and she felt the sour bile rising in her throat.
How had all this happened? She was supposed to be packing and running away from here. Now, she was being traded for a debt owed. She should’ve stayed by the pond. She should’ve kept fishing. The bass’ life hadn’t been worth the end of her own.
“Kerry?” Her Daddy peered at her Mama one last time with the hangdog look Marigold knew well. It was a pitiful expression. Her Daddy was a pathetic man. Born and raised in Podunk nowhere, he’d married his high school sweetheart, thought he’d do something great with his life, but never amounted to anything. Typical Bayou story. A cycle from Hell.
“I’m sorry Bertha.” His eyes found Claude Broussard’s and Marigold felt a chill skim over her. “She’s all yours…until our debt is paid, then I want her back unharmed.”
“Sure Kerry. No problem.”
She saw the smug look on Claude’s face and wanted to spit on him, wiping that I’m-better-than-you sneer right off.
“Come on now, Marigold.”
Her eyes found Jackson’s. His held a mixture of smugness and a condescending manner. She stood up from the raggedy couch, giving him the death glare as she did. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her Mama reach for her but she pulled away. Once she was free, if she was ever free of the Broussard clan; she was running as far away as possible and never looking back.
She saw the look of hurt crossing her Mama’s face. As Marigold followed Claude and Jackson toward her new future, she didn’t care about any pain she caused. She hoped they hurt until they died. She was paying for sins and debts she’d never even committed or acquired. A heavy stone settled in her stomach. She knew it wouldn’t budge until she was released from the grasp of her new hell.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Marigold didn’t say a word as she rode in the back of Claude’s four door truck. Not that the men in front tried to speak to her either. Silence was better. She wasn’t in the frame of mind to listen to anything they might have to say. They drove up to a house she’d seen often in passing. She’d always known what went on there, just like she knew the bar a mile down the street was where all the real action took place.
The men got out of the truck but Marigold stayed seated. Maybe they’d forgotten about her. She could hope, but hoping would do her no good. She saw through the windshield, Jackson turning and heading back to her side of the vehicle. The door opened as bright sunlight streamed in.
“Coming?” She looked at him but said nothing. “Come on.”
He took her hand, pulling her out into the daylight. His was warm, rough, and made her stomach flip in disgust at where it’d been. She jerked hers from his, but couldn’t help noticing the amused smile crossing his face. They walked into an old two-story house that smelled of people, and cooking food.
She’d always wanted a bigger, better, cleaner house to call home, somewhere to feel safe. This wasn’t it either. As she gazed around the dingy place, she realized she’d just gone from one pit to a tidier pit. Even the haves of this town seemed to be have nots compared to others.
“Jackson, show her to her room and explain how the place works.”
Claude’s voice was like a harsh shot in the quiet of the room. It raked her already frayed nerves, though she’d never let on.
Like the obedient son he must have been, Jackson started up the stairs and Marigold simply followed. They went to the third door on the right, and Jackson opened it to admit her in. The room was white, with a twin bed covered in a rose pattern blanket, a small nightstand and a small dresser. Marigold walked across the rough carpet, slowly sitting on the bed as she took it all in. It looked like a little girl’s room…or a fifties housewife whore.
“Bathroom is down the hall. Rent is one hundred fifty a week, which covers room and food. The other girls can tell you about the prices they charge for what. Breakfast is at eight a.m. Lunch at twelve p.m. Dinner at five p.m. You cannot leave the premises except to go to the bar, or an outing if given permission. If you cannot meet the one hundred fifty rent at the end of the week, a fee will be added to the next week. Is all that pretty clear?”
Marigold stared at Jackson, but said nothing. It was as if she was being read her last rights by an automon. She wondered how these people could live with themselves. They’d snatched away her freedom so calmly, and acted as though they’d taken nothing. She wasn’t real to them, just a toy to be used. It unnerved her more.
“Answer me, Marigold.” The tone of his voice caught her attention as did the flash of impatience in his dark eyes. She only nodded, before laying down on the bed. “You’ll get used to it. They always do.” Marigold said nothing and a moment later the door shut. Why hadn’t she stayed by the pond?
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Hello there beautiful.”
Marigold turned to see Jimmy Woods standing beside her. She’d been leaning up against the wooden bar, observing the people coming in and out of the establishment. None were impressive, and she wasn’t shocked they were here for paid sex.
Many of them she knew from the Mills, the feed store, a couple even worked with her Daddy. She’d seen their looks of surprise at seeing her, which was quickly replaced with understanding. Her Daddy was a fuck-up. Surprise, surprise. They’d avoided her though, a small part of her acknowledging a gained respect for them because of it.
He leaned his heavy frame against the bar, flashing her a leering smile. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around here before.”
She shrugged; trying desperately to concentrate on the terrible country song playing from the old jukebox, and not on how much she wanted to punch the man beside her in the throat.
“Well now, come on sweetie. Can’t you at least talk to me?”
Marigold could smell the already stale stench of liquor on his breath and shuddered. That garbage dump of a mouth was not getting anywhere near her, or on her. She’d die first…or maybe he would.
“No.” Marigold threw back the rest of her drink before slamming the glass tumbler on the bar. She wasn’t even old enough to drink but in Bayou; no one paid those kind of laws any attention. As she moved to leave, she felt the hot, strong grasp of his sweaty hand wrapping around her tiny wrist.
“Now wait a minute. I came in here to get some company, and I’m damn well going to get it.”
Marigold gazed at the grip holding tight to her wrist, and she knew her eyes were flashing fire. This drunk, slob of a man would not get his way tonight. It’d be a nice reality shock for him.
“Then I suggest you find it with someone else.”
She jerked her wrist from his hand before starting to walk off. She felt his furious presences just before he grabbed her. Marigold felt her body being whirled around as she was slammed into the bar. The hard wood dug into her spine, leaving a bruise she knew she’d find tomorrow. She instinctively understood Jimmy was going to hit her, the rage in his drunken eyes spoke volumes; but she didn’t flinch.
As Jimmy raised his hand, she noticed Jackson coming across the crowded bar, people moving out of his way as if he were a steam engine. All eyes were on her and the drunken fool. In the oldest Broussard’s eyes, she saw a mixture of concern and irritation. The first emotion gave her pause, but only for a second.
“Excuse me, Jimmy?”
The man’s confused, glazed eyes turned to Jackson. “Yeah Jack?”
“What are you doing?”
“You found a real bitch in this one, Jack.”
“Be that as it may, you need to take your hands off her.”
She saw Jackson’s eyes were cold, a gleam in them no one would be stupid enough to argue with. Jimmy turned from him, giving her one last dirty glare, before dropping her arm.
“No one wants your ugly ass anyways.”
A small, pleased smile crossed her face before she could stop it. She was aware both men saw it, but said nothing. She noticed the bar had become dead quiet; everyone staring at her and Jackson as Jimmy huffed off to creep on someone else.
His eyes raked her over before he turned and looked at everyone. “Bars aren’t meant to be quiet. Let’s liven it back up again.”
Words started flowing like liquor and Marigold noticed Jimmy had already found someone else to harass. She could feel other patrons eyes on her, but knew no one else would be messing with her tonight. She was a nice girl, but life had taught her to be hard.
“Uh Marigold, the point of the place is to please the customers, not piss them off.”
She glanced at Jackson and gave a nonchalant shrug. “Okay.”
“You’ll need that one hundred fifty at the end of the week so therefore, you need them.”
She saw the same flash of impatience but this time, a hint of intrigue as well. She didn’t want this man to be interested in her. He moved closer; his hard, thick body pressing her back into the wooden bar. She felt his erection against her stomach and tried not to let the disgust show.
“This can be done the easy way or the hard way.”
Her fiery eyes dug into his cold ones. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Broussard.”
She gave him a smile, letting him know exactly where she’d like him to go, before pushing his body away from hers and sauntering off.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Marigold stood outside the old, rundown bar; simply gazing up at the night sky. The stars were out in full force, and since tonight had been a waste of time, she was glad she’d stepped out to enjoy them. People came and went from the bar, men with goofy smiles and girls with woe begotten frowns.
A couple of the girls gave her sympathetic looks, but Marigold didn’t want their pity. She wanted to be left alone. She wanted her freedom from this Podunk town, full of shitty people who did shitty things. Away from people who would never amount to anything. Marigold was better than all of them.
She was supposed to be out proving it, at this very moment. She should’ve been on a bus heading…anywhere away from this realm of hell. She wasn’t though, so she’d pay her dues and never let them know her plans. Never show her cards.
She wanted her freedom, and she knew there were only two ways of getting it: death by humiliation or simply death. She’d take the latter, but she figured that’d give the Broussard’s just as much pleasure as the first. She was eighteen years old, had participated in sexual activities; but she’d never been fucked before.
She wasn’t a prude, she just wanted sex to be with someone special. She hadn’t found Mr. Special yet. She never imagined she’d lose it all to a stranger for a few bucks. The thought made the alcohol in her stomach churn, and she wanted to run away.
“It won’t work.”
Marigold jumped a little, turning to glare at Jackson, who swaggered over to join her. “What won’t?”
“Wishing on stars…or running away.”
She inspected the man in front of her. He wasn’t a bad looking guy. Tall with a domineering feel to his broad shoulders, built body. His hair was just a plain mousey brown. There was nothing impressive about him really, save for his eyes. Oh his eyes were the darkest she’d ever seen; like murine drops had been put in them. She imagined one could get lost in them, or die because of them. It made her hate Jackson Broussard even more. She knew those eyes would haunt her, but how?
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Jackson watched her expression turn cold as ice. The blue in her eyes seeming to grow brighter with her disdain for him, before she turned away to star gaze once more. He shook his head as he released a quiet laugh.
“You know you’re not really doing yourself, or us, much good by being out here.”
“I’m doing myself plenty of good. Sorry it’s not working out for you.”
Her voice matched the coolness of her face, making chills run down his spine and to his cock. It twitched as he thought of the things he could do to her. The way her mouth would feel encasing his erection, the feel of pounding into her pussy as she held on for the ride, making her scream his name.
Jackson Broussard didn’t consider himself a cruel man, or a bad one, but he always got what he wanted, one way or another. He’d killed the occasional man who stepped out of line, it was a way of life in Bayou; you either had or you didn’t, and Jackson had. He’d never actually hit a woman though. He may’ve been controlling, was adamant he’d get his way, but he wasn’t a monster.
His brother Shane and cousin Terry, on the other hand; didn’t mind giving out black eyes and busted lips. Jackson had never had to hit a woman or even beg one. They’d always given in and he’d moved on down the line. Marigold was different. She wasn’t caving to him and he wanted her too. His pulsing, erect cock really wanted her too.
“Tomorrow, I won’t be here, but my Daddy will. You won’t be standing outside the bar, Marigold, not if he has a say and believe me he will.”
She didn’t look at him, didn’t even bother acknowledging he existed. Jackson couldn’t take the attitude, the air of superiority. He grabbed her, causing a surprised yelp to escape as he jerked her around. He pulled her tiny, warm body to his chest; clasping both her wrist in his hand. Letting his hard-on dig into her in warning.
“Are you always this cold to everyone or is it just me?”
Fiery blue eyes bore into his and he thought she might actually spit on him. She jerked her wrist from his grasp, tilting her chin in the air like one of the snobs from high school. He didn’t understand why though. She was a nobody, like most of the people in this town.
“I’m usually only cold towards trash.”
Her eyes flashed fire at him again and with an air of arrogance, she stalked past him to the bar. Jackson watched her perfect, large ass swaying in her tight jeans, and he knew she’d be a hard one to break. The problem was, she was beyond beautiful and she could do a lot of business for them if she just lost the attitude. He smiled and looked forward to being the one to break her.
Jackson stood in the cramped kitchen of his childhood home, arguing with his Daddy about Marigold Fontenot. They’d been going in circles about her ever since she arrived. His Daddy thought he should just beat her into submission. Jackson knew the tactic would do no good.
His impatient anger grew stronger every day towards the stubborn, mule of a girl. She refused to please customers, she refused to dance with them, she refused to do what she was told, she refused to eat, she just plain refused to do anything anyone said. She had to be the most hardheaded, pain in the ass person Jackson had ever met; and he was completely enamored by her.
He wanted to kill her out of pent up frustration. He wanted to smack the arrogant, smug look off her face. The one she shouldn’t have, especially considering the position she was in. She had no cards to play, no rights, nothing; yet, she fought tooth and nail against every expectation they made of her. It flustered him, aggravated him, angered him, and drove his cock crazy.
Jackson found himself fantasizing about her, only her. The way her dark, raven hair was always pulled up; revealing her slender, pale neck. A throat perfect for kissing, nuzzling into, marking with hickies, like an immature thirteen-year-old boy. Marigold was supposed to wear a dress, naturally she refused. Jackson found he didn’t mind so much anymore. His favorite part of antagonizing her, was to watch her walk away from him with a huff. The madder she was, the more her sculpted ass bounced in her tight jeans. The more her hips swayed, the harder he got.
Marigold had been there one week. In that time, Jackson had gone on one date. He’d hated it. The girl had been boring, accommodating, pleasant. Normally, he enjoyed those attributes. They led to him getting what he wanted. Thanks to Marigold, who’d been the only thing on his mind throughout the date; he’d yet to go out on another one again. He had to have her.
He stared at his Daddy, who sat at the table eating biscuits and gravy. This man was the power of Bayou. As a child, he’d seen his Daddy kill a man with no remorse. He’d seen his Daddy beat his Mama with no regrets. He’d watched the people of Bayou practically bow to his Daddy’s ever whim. Jackson knew what power looked like and because he was Claude Broussard’s oldest son, he knew what power tasted like.
His burly Daddy was a strong man. A bruiser of a man, with a beard, tattoos of the confederate flag on his arm and entire back, and brown eyes which seemed to warn people there was no soul behind them. Jackson was not in the least surprised his Daddy was feared. Yet, there he sat, biscuit crumbs all over his shirt and stuck in his beard. Jackson just shook his head and continued with the Marigold argument.
“Daddy, she isn’t going to do it.”
“Then I suggest you make her, Jack.”
“This will be the second week. For the first, she’s been cold as ice to anyone who gets near her.”
“Then, I’ll go tonight. I’ll make her do her job even if I have to stand and watch, or tie her down.”
Jackson shook his head. He wanted to be the one to take care of her. Not his Daddy. Also, the implication wasn’t lost on him his Daddy thought he couldn’t handle the problem. It pissed him off, making his hands clench behind his back. He glanced around the semi-messy kitchen they were in and got an idea.
“I want to buy her.”
He watched his Daddy put down the gun magazine he was reading, fork held in midair, before he gave Jackson one hell of a questioning look.
“I want to buy her. She’ll clean this house, help with the meals, and I’ll break her in so well she’ll be begging to go wait on our customers.”
“Son, it don’t work that way. Besides, she’s supposed to be doin them things anyways.”
“True, but it could work. We don’t know, only because we’ve never had to make it.”
“I don’t like it.”
“She called me trash. I want her for that.”
His Daddy’s eyes peered into his and Jackson saw the understanding. He may not agree with all his sons’ decisions, but Jackson knew no one would ever insult him and get away with it. Not if his Daddy was around to hear. He nodded before picking up the magazine again.
“Okay, but only for a month.”
“Yes sir.” Jackson smiled at the thought of everything he could do in a month.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Did you get all that?”
Marigold looked around her as she sat on the edge of the bed in Jackson’s room. She was surprised at the cleanliness, and how much she liked the dark red and blue colors. What she liked most, was the window. Her room hadn’t had an outside view to the world. His may’ve only looked out over the large, front yard; but she could see trees and a blue sky.
Her attention was drawn back to him as he stood in front of her. She understood why she was in here. Had understood from the second she’d seen his wolfish smile coming towards her. In it, a smugness and need she’d wanted to run from, but hadn’t.
“Yes, yes and yes.”
She really didn’t know why he was asking her to clarify she understood all her news duties. His voice had been condescending, the one tone she’d heard all her life. The tone that grated her every nerve, making the fiery temper dwelling inside her come to the surface.
He smiled at her, the curl of his lip adding a cruel gleam to the deep brown of his eyes. She felt her stomach instantly fall. The stone already weighing her down, grew heavier. A surprised yelp escaped her as his large, rough hand snatched her chin in his grasp; jerking her face upward so his eyes could bore directly into hers.
“When I ask you something, you will answer with sir and you’ll lose the attitude. Understood?”
She didn’t bother to answer Jackson. The frosty glare she felt on her face spoke for her. She tried to wrench her chin from his grasp, it simply tightened and she felt a touch of unease.
“What?” She continued to glare, his hungry eyes and harsh tone would not deter her.
“Do you understand?”
“You don’t have to question me like I’m stupid or I’m deaf. I heard you perfectly well.”
“Then why didn’t you answer me?”
“I felt no urge to…sir.” Her eyes flashed and this time, she pulled her chin from his grasp.
Jackson’s smile seemed to grow brutish, making the knot in her stomach tighter. “You’re going to make this so much fun.”
“Yay for me. When do I start with my chores? I wouldn’t mind cleaning the kitchen right about now.” She made her voice sound flippant, though she felt anything but.
“The good news is I bought you, so I can let you be used as much as I want or as little as I want.”
“Yay for me again.”
Fierce blue eyes glared into heat filled brown ones. In the silence of his room, she realized her life was about to venture into a different realm of Hell. Jackson grabbed her hand, yanking her up and against him, before running a finger down her cheek.
“You could be nicer and this would all be over sooner.”
“You could work on not being an asshole, and I could be with my family instead of here.”
She saw the change in his eyes, the animalistic stare of someone used to getting their way. They seemed to turn darker, deeper, colder. Eyes you saw right before you died, wondering what you could have done to stop your gruesome fate. She realized those must be the eyes everyone talked about. When they spoke of the Broussard stare, this is what they meant. She understood the looks of fear on people’s faces as they recounted tales of this family. Apparently, they weren’t just stories.
Maybe she’d gone too far, but she knew what he wanted from her and whether she was nice or not; he was going to take it. He’d taken her freedom without missing a beat. This would be no different. Why should she make it easy for him? She didn’t plan to.
“I think you’ve insulted me more in one week then anyone ever has.”
“At least you know I’m honest.”
“I’m afraid that honesty is going to get you into more trouble than you can get out of one day.”
She smiled a frigid smile, adding to the icy glare in her eyes. “I look forward to it.”
The room remained quiet as a tomb as a stubborn girl and a spoiled adult man, stared one another down. Marigold felt a chill settle over her skin, though the room seemed to heat up with his intensity. She watched, as if in slow motion, his large hand reaching out to her. It clasped her shirt tightly, before ripping it over her head. She felt the anger, the hatred in his jarring movement. Her stomach churned, making her pray she didn’t vomit on herself.
He undid the button of her jeans, his eyes boring into hers without missing a beat. He knew what he was doing, she would learn what she was supposed to do. This was one lesson she wished she never had to receive. She felt the rough material of her jeans as they scraped down her legs; slowly stepping out of them without being told.
He was going to take her whether she wanted it or not. Maybe if she tamed down the stubbornness a little, he’d be gentle. She felt his hands run up her thighs as a strange salty stench began to fill the air and for the first time, Marigold prayed for strength. She knew what the smell meant; had learned about it in the woods beside the pond. It made her loath the man in front of her more.
Jackson slowly brought his hands up her thick thighs. His finger grazing over her cotton panties made her jump as she tried to move away from him. His hand gripped her wrist as a cruel smile spread over his face. His dark stare nailing her straight in the eyes.
“I very much look forward to it as well.”
Fear licked at her every tense muscle but her expression stayed cold. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of flinching at his words. His eyes lit up as his fingers trailed down her thin waist, over her large hips and to the edge of her panties. He ran one finger along their edge, a leering grin on his face. Marigold held her breath, afraid she’d shudder when she exhaled.
He clasped the cotton in-between his fingers, sliding her panties down in a nonchalant manner. Stripping her as easily and coldly as he’d once read her, her final rights. She stepped out of these as she had her jeans. She wouldn’t give in but she’d try to make it easier on herself.
His large hands glided back up her hips, over her tiny waist and to her bra. This was the final piece of humanity. Marigold knew once it hit the floor, she’d be fair game. He stared at her as the sound of the material unclasping filled the room. A snake waiting to strike at her for all the smart mouth things she’d said. She’d never known a single noise could hold so many emotions: fear, disgust, despair.
The white, cotton barrier fell to the floor, joining her jeans and panties. She started to move her hands to cover her large breast, but they were snatched into his one large grasp.
“Get used to the nakedness Marigold. It’s all you’ll know.” His words sent fear rippling down her spine. She simply arched an eyebrow in indifference.
A simple command, but it asked so much. Give up your soul. Give up your personality. Give up being who you are. Give up your humanity. Marigold hesitated as she realized the end of peace was nearing. This brute of a man was going to take her virginity. Tears built up in the back of her throat, sour bile flavoring it, but Marigold showed nothing on the outside.
For once, she did as she was told; the soft bed caressing her bare back as she lay down-fully exposed to be looked over and appraised like a slab of meat. She stared at the ceiling but heard the sounds of Jackson undressing. Heard the metallic clinking of his belt as it was undone. The final noise of rustling clothes being shed before silence greeted her straining ears once more. Suddenly, the bed sank down and he was over her. Her face between his hands and she didn’t fight to move.
“Until your attitude is gone and your little ice queen act has melted, there will be no compassion in this room. Do you understand?”
“That you’re a monster? Yes sir.”
She saw a pained look pass over his face before it went blank. What else could he possibility think she’d believe? His deep, brown eyes stared into hers as the tip of his cock touched her pussy lips. Marigold knew it was going to be painful. She knew he was going to rip her apart from the inside out. Her cunt wasn’t even wet. No lubrication to make the ride even a bit easier. She felt every muscle tense, knowing it’d only make it worse, but genuinely fearing the pain to come.
His lips brushed over hers, amazingly soft for a man’s. The rough, chapped lips of idiot high school boys in her class, were all she’d ever felt along her sensitive skin. She could smell his mint toothpaste as it wafted to her nose. His was trailing over her neck, tiny kisses being left along the smooth path. Still, his cock head stayed at her pussy entrance. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t just diving in. Hurting her.
The bed moved below her, a squeak emitting from the mattress against the headboard. She kept her eyes closed and braced for the movement. Her heart racing, the smell of her adrenaline mixing with his salty cum scent. It wasn’t a smell she hoped to breathe in often.
“Open your eyes.”
She took a deep, calming breath before doing so. His eyes regarded her with a strange look of pleasure and concern. She felt his fingers gently brushing her hair away from her face as he continued to study her.
An incredulous giggle burst out before she could stop it. Relax? Relax as I’m about to rape you. Relax as I’m about to bust through your cherry. Relax as I take your virginity and your freedom. Was he stupid? She saw his brows furrow before they smoothed out.
“It’s only going to hurt more if you don’t.”
“I’ll survive.” Her voice sounded confident to her ears. She hoped it did to his.
His finger trialed down her body, goose bumps forming behind in its wake. She realized in the last instant where it was headed. This she’d felt before, but she still didn’t want it to be him. She felt his finger slide into her pussy. The juices there but not wet and ready. Her body and mind were one.
“Let’s work on this.”
She didn’t respond, but watched in disgust as Jackson lowered his head and began to suck on her pink nipple. She felt his teeth graze her sensitive tip, making it perk up as his rough tongue lapped over it. His eyes continued to dig into hers as his finger began to roam farther into her cunt.
She felt his finger brush against her swollen nodule, heard the sound of her juices as they sucked it in deeper. Another calloused finger joined the first one and they both began to twist and pull within her slit. Marigold felt shivers run down her body. A ping of pleasure built up in her stomach, radiating down to her pussy. Her body sent messages to her brain that his fingers and sucking felt good.
Marigold kept her moan locked deep inside. Whether her body liked the feel of his fingers stroking her now hungry pussy or not, she wouldn’t allow her brain to agree. It couldn’t. She couldn’t like this. He was a monster. Even as the thought crossed her mind, his finger expertly found a spot she’d never known existed.
Marigold’s body came off the bed in response. She saw his eyes lighten, a smile spreading across his face as he moved from one breast to the other. The grin, the smugness, made her heart harder. It made her hate him. She turned her every feature glacial as she glared at him. Jackson’s only response was to graze her nipple with his teeth, sending another shock of wonderful sensations running down to the apex between her thighs.
She felt his fingers glide out of her pussy, wondering in absolute bewilderment why it felt like her cunt lips were trying to reach out for them. Wondering how she could feel so empty when she’d never known such a feeling before. What was this man doing to her?
His soft lips left her nipple, both standing erect and hard in the coolness of the air. They brushed against his smooth, ripped chest as his mouth found hers once more. His tongue barged in without permission, exploring her taste. She tried to move her head, but his large palms held it immobile. Her lips began to move against her will as his coaxed a response from her. How was this happening?
His cock head touched her pussy lips again. This time she felt the juices between her legs as his tip moved them around. Still, he didn’t enter her. The waiting, the not knowing, was the worst part of all. Or was it the second? Her body enjoying the feel of this…this man might have been worse.
His vise-like grip left her face and glided down her body to her thighs. They were thick from all her hiking and running. The muscles strong and hard. She knew they couldn’t save her though. His grip tightened on them as her legs were thrown around his waist. She tried to sink further into the bed but there was nowhere to run.
He pulled his lips away from hers and she saw the same wolfish smile cross his face. Her annoyance growing stronger, along with her uncertainty. His hands left her thighs, their rough calloused feel roaming over her downy like skin. She felt a harsh grasp on her wrist as he yanked them above her head.
“Ready?” She simply arched an eyebrow in fake indifference. “Ice queen all the way.”
She felt the tip of his cock starting to slide in. She glanced down her body and saw his thick, erect shaft waiting to plunge into her pussy. It was large, wide, and his balls full with the semen she knew he’d explode into her. She wanted to swallow down the bile but her mouth was too dry. Her legs began to shake but she said nothing. Her expression set in stone.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Jackson watched her face as his cock teased her now wet pussy lips. He’d wanted to dive straight into her from the instant he’d seen her naked body. A body that hadn’t disappointed. Large, full breast with quarter size pink nipples. A tiny waist, muscles rippling throughout her young frame. A country girl’s body. A light brushing of downy on her cunt. A softness he’d found pleasing as his fingers enticed her pussy to come alive for him.
Jesus, she was everything he’d wanted. Her body and salty smell so much more than he ever imagined. Her blue eyes, though frosty, glaring up into his made his cock twitch with the greatest anticipation. He smiled down at her, hoping to give her an ounce of comfort. She cocked an eyebrow with utter indifference at the entire situation.
It made him want to lunge in; jerking her hips in rough pleasure for himself. Pounding into her cunt with no mercy just to prove he could. She was so damn frustrating. He almost wanted to deprive her of any pleasure but his ego would be bruised if he did. He wanted to hear her scream his name. He longed to hear her moan beneath the magic of his hands. He wanted to bring the perfect O shape to her lips as her orgasm rocked her body. He would make her cum.
His hard cock teased her pussy lips once more, coating it in her juices. Juices he’d made form. Nothing flittered across her face and Jackson inwardly sighed. He knew he’d get none of the things from her he wished for. She would never give him that particular satisfaction. However, he’d still receive it from her body.
His cockhead pushed past the puffy lips of her pussy. A warm wetness enveloping the tip. Already he could tell she was tight, her muscles like stone. He’d told her to relax. She’d refused and so the pain was on her. He felt himself slide farther in, the entrance becoming tighter as his erection fought for space. Nothing had ever felt so amazing.
Her thighs clenched harder around him, trying to stop him though her face remained a blank. He simply pushed his erection in deeper, making her walls spread for him. Making her cunt open wide so he could bury himself inside. He was only half way there but her need was already trying to milk him. He’d wanted her for so long, fantasized about her every time he shut his eyes; he knew he’d burst soon.
“I hate you.”
The words were quiet but they tore across him anyway. He felt the flare of his temper. He’d thought, maybe, they could get past everything, but no. She was going to remain an ice queen. So be it. He stared into her glacial eyes and plunged the rest of his cock straight down into her. He felt his balls slap against her ass. Felt something inside her tearing as he began to pump his erection in and out. He pulled his length out, only to shove his dick directly back in. A rough rhythm between her legs.
His hands held her wrist tighter as his eyes left hers to land of her tits. Her large breast bounced with their every movement, jostling when he plunged harshly back in. His rigid cock ravaging her pussy. The tip hitting her swollen nodule, egging it on to join him in pleasure. He could smell his own salty arousal, the flavor cocooning them.
His body rippled over hers as he thrusted over and over. The sweet, charged feel of his arousal coursing through his muscles. Her legs tightened as his movements sped up, her breast bouncing higher. Her nipples hard and pointing up at the ceiling, perfect to nibble on.
He lowered his head, sucking one into his mouth as their eyes defied each other. His cock, hard and swollen with thoughts of her, began to vibrate. He felt the passion starting to travel and knew he was going to spew inside her. As his pleasure grew stronger, his fragrance more powerful; he bit her nipple.
Her back arched beneath his chest and mouth as his cock shuddered with a sweet, pent up relief. He felt his balls releasing his cum, filling up her womb. Hot spurts marking her as his. Burning her with his need. Their combined juices mixing and leaking from between her legs.
His mouth left her bruised nipple and found hers. His tongue forced her lips apart, making hers dance with his against her will. Let her hate him. He could give her a reason. His limp cock stayed buried inside her tight cunt, a warm place he wasn’t ready to leave yet. A homey place he’d make sure to come back to often.
Marigold looked down at the shirt she was wearing, then back at Jackson like he was an idiot. She could imagine the look on her face as annoyance crept along her nerves.
She saw the change in his eyes. They’d gone from brown to deep brown. From relaxed to spoiled in the blink of an eye. He was the most mercurial person she’d ever met. It frustrated her to no end.
“I just want to go to the bathroom.”
“Marigold, I said come here.”
The connotations of his voice always sounded severe when he spoke to her. She took a deep breath and reined in her own flaring temper. Maybe if she wasn’t hateful to him, he wouldn’t touch her again. His cock wouldn’t punish her cunt over and over again in a brutal fashion. His hands wouldn’t grasp her so tightly, the very blood vessel’s feeling like they’d pop.
She hadn’t left his room in three days, her entire body aching from the pain of what went on inside. This truly had become the seventh realm of Hell. What made it worse, was how her body always started to respond to his touch. How he could bring her to a brink she’d yet to go over. Her body was a betrayer but her mind was sharp and collected.
She walked slowly across his room because it hurt to move, and because she wanted to childishly drag her feet. Why rush to be abused? She saw him smile and she hated him. She loathed the feel of his rough hands on her smooth skin. Despised the way his cock tasted, the cum which spewed in her mouth. Deplored herself for gaining an ounce of pride when she heard his moans filling the room.
She walked near the bed, not close enough for him to reach, and crossed her arms. She knew it’d lift her breast, maybe causing him to get distracted and forget why he was angry. She could hope. What was the point of such an emotion as that?
“Yes?” She refused to say sir unless she was in dire straits.
“What did I tell you about wearing clothes in this room?”
“That I’m not to wear any.”
She gave him the same questioning look she’d given him a moment ago. Her aggravation boiling up even as she knew his was about to join hers. Jackson simply stood, reaching for her tiny body. Staying away from the bed had done her no good.
“And so, you chose to ignore my orders.”
“I chose to put on a shirt, so I could go to the bathroom.”
“You wouldn’t have needed it after you came out.”
“Maybe I wanted to remember what clothing felt like against my skin.”
Her snapped, cold response just put the same cruel smile she’d seen for three days, on his face. She needed to learn to keep her smart mouth in check for her own good. She knew she wouldn’t. She came by her stubbornness the honest way, from her Mama.
He kissed her cheek before pulling the shirt over her head. She saw it flutter to the floor, along with another section of her pride. He used his broad body to push her all the way against the bedpost, smiling as her back rammed into the hard wood.
“The bathroom will have to wait a minute.”
He pulled her legs up and around his waist. The same large, rough hands she’d hated for three days; situating his cock near her pussy entrance. He’d just used her an hour before. A coating of his sperm and her juices still layered on her cunt. It wasn’t enough lubrication but his erect cock plunged in nonetheless.
Marigold felt the familiar thrusting as his erection pumped in and out. Her spine hitting the hard, wooden bedpost. Another line of bruises to be added to her pale skin. Her wrist clasped tightly once more in his grasp, held above her head making her large, full breast jut out. She felt them gliding over his smooth chest, the friction causing her nipples to harden.
Her body coming awake beneath his touch infuriated her beyond all rational belief. She felt the energy between her legs as his cock pushed against her swollen nodule, causing pure, charged arousal to build up as always. The warmness swimming in her stomach, trying to make its way to her pussy. The bursting feel of a climax he always enjoyed, just out of reach for her.
Her body had come close to a release, but he’d never allowed her to get there. Another punishment she received as his cock always got off. As her pussy always milked him; allowing his semen to explode inside her womb. Always feeling marked by the monster.
After the first few times of being fucked, her body had finally gotten used to the rhythm he created. She knew it’d be rough and tumble. Knew he’d clasp her tightly, bucking and burrowing his cock into her wet cunt. Teasing her swollen nodule, brushing against her special spot but never staying there long. It’d been excruciating when he’d ripped her wide open but now, it was just the same dull pain.
She felt his build up coming. Felt the grasp on her wrist tighten as his lunges grew rougher, more erratic. She heard his breathing speed up as moans escaped his lips. Her back bounced off the bedpost, jostling her insides and making her teeth rattle with his force. His mouth attacked hers at the last second, his tongue barging in as his cock released his semen inside her. Her pussy muscles clenching his shaft, sucking out his cum to fill her emptiness.
She didn’t understand why her body loved the feeling of his fullness, but it did. Her brain had even begun to agree, so now it was left to her stubbornness to rebel. She wiggled beneath his body, trying desperately to move her mouth away from his. She hated the kissing most. It was too intimate. She felt nothing kind towards this man and wished he’d just stick to fucking her. She thought he was trying to get her to like him. It made her laugh and simultaneously question his sanity.
She felt the familiar pulling out and the aching. Her legs screamed in pain, the muscles sore from being clenched so tightly. Her pussy begged for a reprieve, while also longing for a chance at release. Marigold said nothing to all of it. She made no sound even when he told her to. She would never give him the satisfaction.
Jackson kissed her hard before settling her feet back on the ground. He smiled at her, making her want to spit in his face. He always got enjoyment out of her discomfort. Out of the way he made her body do things she didn’t want it to. She knew, though she never moaned, he believed he’d made her cum. If he knew she hadn’t, his ego would be shattered. She was saving this tidbit for a rainy day. She knew it would come. It had too.
She lifted an eyebrow in response before slowly walking away. In the bathroom, she studied herself in the mirror. Far away eyes, both of them with black circles underneath from lack of sleep, stared back at her. Her lips were swollen and bruised from his hard, unyielding kisses.
Her upper arms and wrist had bruises in the shape of fingerprints. Her thighs had the same marks. She touched herself and when she pulled her hand away, there was fresh blood. Her body was not quite used to the wear and tear of belonging to someone for the sole purpose of fucking. She didn’t know how the prostitutes did it.
In the reflection, her own sad eyes bore into her. How many times could he want her? How was he not tired? Didn’t he have to work? Were there really only twenty-four hours in a day? Was this purgatory and was she already paying for all the sins of her family? How could someone be so cruel? Why on earth did he think she’d ever be nice and kind to him?
What she wanted to do was spit in his face and run. What she did was stay and tolerate the torment. In the end, she really had no other option. Marigold looked at her reflection in the mirror and wondered when her eyes would become hers again. When her body would once more belong to just her touch.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Are you ready to go to sleep?”
Marigold was on her side, curled in the fetal position, and facing away from him. He didn’t need to see her face to imagine the hate in her cool eyes. Her voice held a sharp edge she’d yet to change. He brought his hand down on her ass cheek and felt her jump. She wouldn’t get away with not saying sir to him.
The light went out and he put his arm around her. He felt her entire body tense but he figured one day she’d get over it. He’d enjoyed these past three days. He enjoyed getting lost inside her body. Hearing her moan though she never opened her mouth. Feeling the power unleashed between her legs as her cunt milked his cock. The way her soft hair slid between his fingers like silk.
He had another day with her before he had to go back to work, and this thrilled him. The only downside: nothing he did slowed her mouth down any, but he still had time. He had ways of getting what he wanted. He’d gone easy on her. She’d been so tight the first few times, he knew she hadn’t been used often. It’d made him feel guilty about fucking her so many times throughout the day; but then her smart mouth spouted off and all rational sense was lost.
How could one, tiny, backwoods girl be so damn stubborn? How could someone so mulish turn him on? What was it about her that spoke to him? If only she’d tame her words, he knew they’d get along. He’d never wanted to kiss and beat a woman at the same time. Marigold made many emotions Jackson had never felt, swirl within him. He knew it wasn’t mutual, so she stayed frosty and he remained harsh. She would break. He could break her.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
A sound filtered through the quiet room, causing Jackson to wake as he realized it wasn’t a dream. Beside him, the bed was empty. He turned to get up, sighing at the thought of having to hunt her down; and smiling at the thought of how she’d repay him. The odd noise reached his ears again, making him turn toward his bedroom window.
She was sitting on the window ledge, her knees pulled to her chest, her hair hanging like a veil around her. Her tresses a deep, midnight black which stood out against the paleness of her skin. Even though they were turned from him, in his mind, he could see the fiery blue eyes that matched her face so well.
He realized he’d never seen her smile, but imagined it was beautiful. He could almost see it spreading across her face, lighting up her eyes, making her a goddess. Almost…but knew it’d never be directed at him. His heart felt heavy and there was a twinge of guilt knocking at his conscience. If she’d just done what she was supposed to, she wouldn’t be here.
Of course he’d wanted her, and would’ve had her a few times, but not like this. If only she’d behaved, hadn’t insulted him, hadn’t called him names. If only she hadn’t chosen the word trash. He could’ve dealt with a smidge of disobedience, but not outright defiance and smugness. If she wasn’t so cold and yet, the chill of her personality matched the image he had of her right now silhouetted against the black sky. A strange goddess outlined by the moon.
A memory came back to him but Jackson pushed it down. He wouldn’t remember his Mamas childish story of the Lady in the Moon. Marigold wasn’t her. A sound came across the room and he realized that’s what had woken him up. It was a humming note and it was coming from her. Jackson slipped out of bed and walked toward her. If she noticed, she made no indication.
“Marigold?” Eyes filled with nothingness peered into his. He wanted to chastise her for being out of bed but he didn’t. He wanted to join her on the window sill and talk, but he didn’t do that either. It was two in the morning and a fight wasn’t what he wanted.
He simply held out his hand and after a moment’s hesitation, she took it. Her hair fell down to her waist and covered her front. He could see a peek of pink nipple poking through the screen of her luscious locks, making his cock twitch. He ran his hand down her porcelain face as her eyes remained closed off, no smile gracing her lips.
“Has anyone ever told you, you’re beautiful?”
A look of genuine surprise filled her eyes before the nothingness rushed back. It was the only emotion besides hate and annoyance, he’d ever seen in them. They’d turned a darker cerulean color in her shock before fading back to clear ice once more.
“No.” She pulled her hand from his, as if she were angry at the compliment. He didn’t understand this girl. He didn’t know what made her tick, what could make her smile, what could break the spell of indifference. All he knew, was nothing he did held the answers to his questions.
He watched her walk quickly to her side of the bed. His eyes glued to her ass as she pinned all her beautiful hair up, before getting under the covers. He took a moment to appreciate the view he’d had, before joining her. His arm went around her, leading to the automatic tensing. He knew it wasn’t just at his arm though; he felt his cock as it dug into her bare back.
“I won’t do it again.” Her voice was a whisper in the quiet room, reminding him once more of the childish story.
He’d wanted to ask her if she’d been truthful in her response to his question. Something in the vacant look of her eyes had told him she was. He wondered how it was possible. Anyone with eyes could see she was superbly built. Anyone with eyes could see the alluring, sexy aurora around her. How was it no one had ever told her? How was it she didn’t know?
“Now I don’t want you opening that door no matter who it is, understand?”
Marigold shot him a look. She thought perhaps after four days trapped together, he’d realize she wasn’t a stupid child. Guess she was wrong. It spoke volumes about him in her world.
Sugar would’ve melted in her mouth at the moment. She was so thrilled he was leaving. Not ecstatic enough to let the condescending tone go, but happy enough not to antagonize him too much.
“I’m serious. Not even if it’s my Daddy or Terry. I’ll go downstairs and tell them to let you alone.”
His tone reminded her of a dad talking to his daughter. It raked her nerves, making her happy mood turn cantankerous. Let him babble away. In her mind, she already had plans for the moment he shut the door and she was left in peaceful bliss.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Marigold was gazing out the window and paying him no mind. Apparently, she thought she was safe because he was leaving. Jackson walked over to the edge of the bed where she sat, and snatched her chin in his grasp. He heard her surprise intake of breath as he pulled her lips to his. He tasted cinnamon, she’d refused to use his mint toothpaste; and let his tongue bask in the warmness of her mouth. The kiss was hard and intense, a warning he’d be back to do more than just that.
He pulled away, greeted by eyes blazing into his with complete apathy. Something about her piercing glare made his cock turn hard. He felt it starting to move his boxers away from his leg. If only he didn’t have to be at work. He could take her smart mouth and make it suck his cock off.
“Just because I’m leaving now, doesn’t mean I won’t be back for you at lunchtime. Remember Marigold, after work, you’re all mine. You’ll stay all mine until your ice queen attitude changes. I’ve never looked so forward to closing time.”
It amazed him how quickly the nothingness turned to anger, and the coldness took over her face. He knew if looks really could kill, he’d of died a million deaths by her alone. It made him smile even as it ruffled his temper.
“I can hardly wait.”
If her words had been ice, they would’ve burned him with their intensity. He looked into the deep eyes ringed with sleep deprived circles; and wondered if she’d ever be able to turn her smart mouth off. She simply cocked an eyebrow at him, silently daring him to say or do something. He would and he’d enjoy it.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Marigold lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Her body hurt, and she was lethargic from lack of proper exercise and movement. She’d been stuck in this room for almost five days and extreme cabin fever had kicked in. She was used to hiking in the woods, playing out by the pond, fishing with friends or by herself. She was used to the feel of the breeze on her face, even when it was drenched in humidity.
She was used to the smell of fresh air, the scent of pine that saturated the particles all around her. The feel of grass and tree needles beneath her bare feet. Sunlight beaming on her face and the freedom to run, play, sing, chatter with the squirrel’s and be young. In this room, it all seemed like a distant memory. Her life hadn’t been easy at home; she wouldn’t wish it on anyone honestly; but it wasn’t here.
She longed to run free. Roll around with her dog Addie Girl, chase birds while her furry best friend barked and wagged her nub of a tail. She wanted to laugh with some girlfriends, giggling about stupid boys and town gossip. She wanted to listen to music while painting her nails, and discussing in hushed tones; all the things they’d done with boys so far. Instead, she was here and had done things with a man she hated.
Laughter didn’t fill this room. Carefree, jovial conversation was non-existent. The only smiles to grace these walls, were cruel ones matched by bitter ones. Marigold had never considered herself bitter, just realistic. Bayou life was hard, but she’d still found reasons to laugh and smile. Not here. Who knew one room could destroy everything good?
As she lay there, Marigold wondered what would happen if she walked out of the room and around the house. Claude Broussard would have a stroke and Jackson would have a field day making her pay for that sin. Or Claude might try to touch her and she’d die if that happened. Jackson wasn’t her first choice for a prison warden, but he was better than his disgusting Daddy.
What she really wanted was a book. At least if she had a book, she’d have an escape, even if only for a few hours. She loved to read adventures and sci-fi and plays. She went to places around the world, she went to places out of this world. She met cultured people, learned about life, and what takes place outside the bubble of Bayou.
She practically felt herself salivating at the thought of holding a book in her hands. Turning pages, getting lost in another time and space. Having a temporary reprieve to call freedom. Marigold doubted there was a book in the entire house, as if these people would lower themselves. Between running an obviously busy whore house, running a happening bar, owning and operating a legit Mill, drug running and selling; when did they have time to sit and enjoy a good book? The thought made her laugh. The sound of it making her jump in the quietness of the room.
There was a knock at the door but Marigold didn’t stir. Whoever it was would go away. She knew other girls were in the house but she highly doubted it was one of them. Even if it was, she had nothing to say. Half of her wanted to open the door, actually. She could imagine the look of surprise on their face when they saw a naked woman standing there. Of course, she was in a whore house so maybe they wouldn’t be all that surprised.
Marigold got up, gratefully putting on a shirt and panties. Jackson wasn’t here and he’d never know. She paced the small area, every now and then looking out the window. There were trees to the side of the house and she knew behind it was a cleared field. Nothing happened while she gazed out, so Marigold gave in and went back to bed. Maybe she could sleep the days away until she went back home.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Marigold felt a chill run up her leg and down her spine. She shivered but didn’t open her eyes. She was still beside the pond, fishing pole in hand, radio playing alternative music beside her. A breeze kept tickling her, but she couldn’t understand why it just brushed her leg.
When she felt the sensation again, she blinked awake from her dream. Jackson was sitting beside her, his hand running up and down her bare leg. She looked at the clock and saw it was half past twelve. Lunchtime at the Mills and he was here as promised. She’d slept away her hours of peace and reprieve from his touch.
The idea she’d know only the same endless cycle of Hell until the end of her days, made her stomach gurgle. She couldn’t remember the last real meal she’d had. Now, the acid in her stomach made her guts churn. As much as she wanted to go home, all she had to do was peer into Jackson’s eyes to know it wouldn’t be anytime soon.
“Get some rest?”
She nodded at him, the look in his eyes a combination of annoyance and worry. She didn’t understand the latter emotion. She stretched her arms above her head, the muscles inside her body pulling tight as a string. The movement ached and burned, but she didn’t flinch. She’d never let him see how much he hurt her. Just as she’d never let him see or hear how much her aroused body betrayed her.
“I take it, I leave and the rules no longer apply?”
Marigold gave him a strange look, blinking away the sleepiness before noticing her clothed body. She felt herself mentally sighing. Shit, she’d forgotten to take her clothes off before going to sleep. Now, it was going to be an issue.
“I thought it was a rule only meant for when you’re here because when I’m alone; there’s no one around to enjoy the humiliation.”
She flashed a sickly, sweet smile as she batted her eyes. If it was going to be an issue, she mine as well give the son of a bitch a run for his money. Jackson smiled at her, a wolf in sheep’s clothing if ever she’d met one. In a flash, he was up and pulling her to him.
“But when I come home, your humiliation isn’t here to greet me.”
“If only I was capable of playing the world’s smallest violin.”
The sarcastic statement hung between them and Marigold didn’t have to question if she was in trouble, just how much. Like quicksilver, his eyes turned hard, a wicked glint staring back at her.
“These are never going to heal.” He ran his thumb over the black circles beneath her eyes. She said nothing, and barely felt the pain of the bruises.
“These either.” His finger brushed her swollen lips and still she was silent.
His hand reached down, cupping her cunt which vibrated at his touch. His fingers brushing against her, her bodies reaction to how close he was, made her take a deep breath. Jackson smiled as he felt her body move against him. Marigold felt her pussy grow wet and it humiliated her. Why did her body like the things he did? She never got release and yet, it wanted to try.
He leaned in, his whisper filling her ear. “This will heal but the smarter your mouth gets, the longer I’ll make sure it takes.”
His voice sent shivers down her spine, her pussy growing wetter with the threat of his words. What had this man done to her? How could such a promise awaken something so guttural? He gazed at her and she made sure her eyes held nothing. No matter what he felt or how much of her arousal he smelled; she’d make sure to never give him the satisfaction of being able to wear his smug look.
She did as she was told. Sometimes things went smoother for her if she did. He’d never take away her opinion, but she could lessen the severity of her reprimand. She still retained that power.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Jackson watched her undress before lifting her face so her eyes met his. “I want you to pleasure me with your smart mouth, while I think of what else I’m going to do to you.”
No emotion crossed her face as she went to her knees. The sight of her looking up at him, clear yet angry eyes digging into his, made his cock twitch. She was beautiful at all times but on her knees, was his favorite view. He watched as her steady hands undid his belt, pulling it through the loops with a whoosh before tossing it far away from them.
Her fingers fumbled with the button, a look of annoyance flashing through her eyes like lightening. He smiled which caused her brow to furrow. He wondered what she was thinking as she pulled his pants and boxers down. He knew he’d never know.
His erect cock sprung out, hitting her cheek and causing her to move away. He reached for her head, his fingers digging into her silky locks. Hair always pulled up, making a bun he could easily grasp as his dick fucked her mouth. Her eyes bore into his soul with a look of total disdain as his cock pried her lips open. He shoved his hard-on deep in her mouth, touching the back of her throat as she coughed.
Her eyes only grew deeper blue with anger, his cock grew harder at her glare. He held tightly to her bun as he glided his dick in and out of her mouth. Her tongue swirled along the head, running down the sensitive underside. Pings of pleasure cascading down from his balls to his erect tip.
He felt the muscles of her throat as he pushed in farther. They clasped around his swollen cock, making room for him to spew his load when his time came. Until, he enjoyed staring into her eyes, watching her mouth in the perfect O shape he’d yet to see from an orgasm. The sounds of her sucking him off filled the room. Music to his ears.
He’d missed her at work. Only five hours away but it’d felt like an eternity. He hadn’t planned to come home and fuck her, but she’d disobeyed him the moment he was gone. This was a start on making it up to him. Her teeth grazed the tip of his head, causing him to emit a moan of guttural need. His grasp once more tightened in her hair, making his cock shove farther in.
Her gag reflex was stuffed past the limit and so he slid down the back of her throat with ease. He saw her struggling to breathe, pulling back to allow air before plunging back in. The warmth of her mouth, the twirling of her tongue, the smell of his salty desire mixing with the aroma coming from her pussy; it was a perfect recipe for exploding his load. He felt the buildup coming as he gazed down at her.
Jackson enjoyed the pleasure she bestowed on his swollen cock. Instead of thinking how to repay her smart mouth comment though, he found himself simply thinking about her. She couldn’t always be this cold and closed off. She had to smile. In eighteen years, she’d had to laugh at some point.
With her brusque personality she could survive in any environment, but everybody had fun. He couldn’t imagine her laughing and telling secrets to a friend. He couldn’t imagine a boy, or man, brave enough to face her, even if it was under different circumstances than these.
How could she be so hard already? So damn jaded and icy. Life in their town was difficult for most. Many were the have not’s of the world. Still they lived. She simply went through the motions. What could he do to change her? What could he do to get her to talk to him? He had to think of something.
As much as he enjoyed her sexual company, Jackson found he wanted to know more of her. He wanted to know what went on behind those startling blue eyes. Why she always hummed. What she always hummed. What her life was like before him. This girl was like a drug. Even though he didn’t like the circumstances revolving around why she was here in this room; he was glad to have met her
Her warm mouth sucked harder on his cock, her tongue swirling around the head before sliding back up. He pushed the tip down her throat, hearing her gag as she took it all down. His hand grasped her head tightly as a shudder began to move through his body.
He felt all the tension of the morning leaving him as he spewed his salty cum down her throat. The sound of her sucking and swallowing all his semen aroused him, even as his erection went limp. He stayed cocooned in her mouth, allowing her enough space to breathe, as he soaked up all the feelings of her lips wrapped around his cock. After a moment, he pulled out and peered down into closed off eyes as they waited. In them, he saw nothing. Maybe, she wasn’t breakable after all.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Marigold did as he commanded, but noticed the harsh tone didn’t hold the same edge as it usually did. She felt him run his hands down her spine and to her bottom. Even as he leaned in to kiss her neck and cheek, his hands stayed where they were. A finger running along the crack of her ass, dipping close to her hole.
For once, Marigold knew fear. She felt her muscles tense as her heartbeat quickened. Instead of arousal, she smelled adrenaline. Tasted the metallic flavor of bitterness on her tongue, mixing with the salt of his cum. She’d made him release his load, letting it flow down her throat like honey. Still, his finger ran in and out of her ass crack.
She’d never thought her life would be like this. She just knew she’d never wanted to be touched at that spot. She knew he’d do it just to be cruel. If there was one thing she knew about cruelty, it was that it got bored with routine. She felt his hard body against her, felt his hand spreading her ass. Her breath hitching as she waited for the inevitable pain. Moments passed as he continued to kiss her neck. His tongue flicking against her skin before his teeth nipped her. His mouth found her lips, his tongue barging in with unbearable force.
Hers answered back and not without a trace of passion. It infuriated her to no end, but still she kissed him. She let his mouth ravage hers, tasted his mint toothpaste, felt a chill sliding down to her wet core. Time passed and nothing happened in her ass except the constant stroking of his finger.
Marigold continued to remain still and tense as a coiled spring. The rational part of her brain was still waiting. Knowing he’d lead her on before making her scream. His mouth pulled away, his glazed eyes looking down into hers. She was surprised to see a hint of a smile on his lips. He made zero sense and she didn’t know what to make of him anymore.
“I have to go back to work. We’ll finish this later tonight.”
His hand slid from between her ass crack, only to slap it. The shock waves running through her burning cheek caused her to yell out, before he disappeared into the bathroom. Marigold looked down at her shaking legs and wondered if he’d seen them too.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Do you ever laugh?”
Marigold gave him a questioning look before staring at her hands. She was propped up on pillows at the end of the bed. Her body as far away from him as she could get, without actually leaving the bed. If he was on the bed, she was on the bed. He felt the rule made sense.
She gazed at him and he saw a mix of frustration and confusion. He’d asked because it’d been on his mind a lot lately. Especially today for some reason. When he’d come home to find her sleeping, though he’d been annoyed she’d been dressed; she’d looked peaceful.
He’d liked looking at her. Watching her chest rise and fall as her lashes fluttered across her cheeks. She’d seemed almost sweet, angelic even. Then, she opened her eyes and mouth, the angel image quickly fading to oblivion. His concern for her sleep deprivation evaporating along with the peacefulness.
Her eyes peered at him from beneath her dark, black lashes. “Yes.”
“Yes, I laugh. Why?”
She gave him an exasperated look. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m not hearing any sirs in your responses.”
In an instant, he watched her close down and he knew asking her more questions would be like pulling teeth. Not only was she stubborn in that she didn’t do a damn thing she was told; she also refused to answer questions no matter what they pertained to. She was the embodiment of the word frustrating.
“I don’t understand you.” She shrugged in reply and gazed off toward the dark window. He stared at her profile and still couldn’t believe no one had ever told her how beautiful she was.
She turned toward him. “Sir?” He let the tone in her voice go. If he got mad every time she copped an attitude, he’d simply stay pissed off.
“Do you know you’re beautiful though no one’s ever told you?”
She seemed stunned by the question. It was another he’d been thinking about a lot lately. How did people treat her outside this house? What did she think about herself? Obviously that she was better, but why?
“Beauty fades with time and is irrelevant. And no is the answer to your question…sir.”
“Even if beauty fades, it’s here now.”
“Who you are, what you do, and your mind, are the only things that matter.”
“The mind huh?”
“Do you exercise your mind often, since that’s what counts?”
He saw a flash go across her eyes but it was gone so quickly, he couldn’t place the emotion.
“Do you have friends?”
“What are they like?”
“Do you like animals?”
“Which is your favorite?”
Marigold looked at him, and for a split second he saw hate before he saw blankness.
“Are all your answers going to be one word responses?”
“They have to be at least two since you make me say sir, sir.”
Jackson felt the chord on his temper snap. He reached out and grasped her leg, easily dragging her across the bed. Marigold gasped in surprise before recovering herself.
He jerked her stubborn chin up so he could glare into her eyes. Ones that shone back with just as much anger. Two mutual tempers colliding together. He knew neither of them would back down. Maybe that’s why he liked her. She made him work for everything.
The thought surprised him, but he suppressed it to the back of his mind. His fury at how aggravating she was now, more important than his realization. Jackson was almost positive they’d kill each other before they’d ever be kind to one another.
“Are you always this damn difficult?”
He knew he looked like he could breathe fire. He looked like he could kill a man. After bouts like these with her, he felt sorry for those who got in his way.
“Irrelevant to our situation, sir.”
Jackson considered himself a calm man. He considered himself a rational one. He was not by nature cruel or hateful. He wanted to beat Marigold to death.
“I have never met anyone like you.”
“Can you say anything without being a smart ass?”
His voice echoed around the room but it drew no reaction from her. She raked him over with icy eyes and shrugged in her usual indifference.
She said the word so calmly and sincerely. Her voice had lost all traces of hate and sarcasm. It reminded him of the angel he’d imagined earlier. Jackson couldn’t do anything but watch as she got under the covers, making herself comfortable. Somehow he’d walked into her response and had never seen it coming.
He turned off the light and put his arm around her waist. He felt her become as hard as a rock, but he refused to change the routine. He wanted to be furious he’d been played. Aggravated she’d gotten the upper hand but he couldn’t be. For the first time, he’d heard a warmness in her voice he didn’t know was possible. She had surprised him in more ways than one.
She arched an eyebrow in her usual indifference. Though she felt a twinge of pride at the idea she was capable of pleasing him, she also wondered why he thought she’d care. She’d never given him the impression she gave a damn about anything he said or did. She saw him shake his head as his eyes darkened. Apparently, silence wasn’t the answer he was looking for.
“You also never cease to amaze me.”
She simply pulled her outstretched legs closer to her body so he couldn’t grab them. The stupid rule of being on the bed because he was, drove her batty. She wanted to be at the window, enjoying the view of the sky. Not stuck on the same mattress she’d formed an intimate bond with.
“Not that it matters, right?”
She saw a smile cross his face. It seemed he liked she was stubborn. He made no logical sense to her. Her brain always on the alert because she never knew what would set him off or make him smile. At least she stayed neutral at all times. Why couldn’t he?
“Why are you smiling?”
“You just…I’ve never in my damn life…how you can be so…just argh.”
“See, just like that. No response. No nothing. Just….”
“It’s so…aggravatingly hot.”
She remained silent as the words sank in. He thought it was hot she was indifferent? Was he bound and determined to take everything away from her? She wanted to beat him within an inch of his life this very instant. Let’s see how hot he thought she was then.
His eyes grew darker and she inwardly shuddered. “Marigold, I said come here. Don’t make me change my tone or it won’t be pleasant for you.”
Her eyes flashed at him but she slid across the cotton sheets and closer to him. His hand reached out towards her face, and Marigold found she was holding her breath. He’d never hit her, but one never knew with him. His finger slid down her cheek, caressing her lips before falling back onto the bed. She wasn’t sure why he’d done it.
“I want to do something for you.”
She watched his naked body slide off the bed before he turned to look at her. His cock was hard and standing at full attention. She wasn’t positive how it was going to do anything for her. It hadn’t so far. His eyes grew darker with longing but she watched in bafflement as he went to his knees.
“Come closer, Marigold.”
She crawled across the bed towards the edge, before looking down at him in bewilderment. She saw a smile cross his face, one which seemed to be laughing at her but not with cruelty. His smile seemed genuinely amused. This man was the walking definition of confusing.
“I need your legs.”
“Put your legs over the edge of the bed.”
She shot him a dubious look before hesitantly putting her legs over the bed. His rough hands ran up the smoothness and over her thick thighs, before he began to spread them apart. She watched in a fog like daze, feeling her pussy starting to grow wet. One touch near her core and her body went wild with desire. It flustered her.
“Lay back, baby.”
“Baby?” She arched an eyebrow and saw the same amused smile cross his face. She was at a total loss.
“Marigold, lay back. Now.”
Dancing eyes bore into hers but his tone held an edge. She knew the situation could change at the drop of a hat. She did as he said, the white ceiling greeting her eyes as the cotton sheets caressed her back. She felt his finger slip inside her, roving around till he found her enlarged nodule. Swollen in need as usual.
Juices already starting to soak her pussy walls even as she shook her head. She could smell her own sweet arousal floating up to her nose. If she could smell her scent, so could he. He probably thought she enjoyed his torture. Her betrayer of a body did, on most occasions anyway.
His finger flicked her swollen nodule, making pleasure vibrate through her pussy and up into her core. It made her stomach flip as she opened her mouth to moan. She quickly closed it. She wouldn't give him anything. The ripples of sweet desire coursed over her as she concentrated on breathing.
Suddenly, Marigold felt something else join his finger. Her eyes trailed down her body, past her large breast; nipples standing perky and yearning for his attention. Between her legs, she saw his deep brown eyes staring into hers. She felt the movement again, realization dawning it was his tongue now lapping at her cunt.
An unexpected gasp leapt from her throat before she could stop it. No one had done this to her. Boys had tried, but she'd always pulled away. She wanted to now but his grip tightened as his eyes grew darker.
"Jackson, I-" His tongue sucked her enlarged nodule into his mouth, a moan sounding deep in her throat. An exquisite feel pulling between the apex of her thighs. A flush began to crawl along her pale skin.
She looked back up towards the ceiling as her fingers grazed her nipples. She heard a pleased groan emit from the man between her legs. Her eyes finding his as she continued to tease her pink tips. Pulling them, rolling them with her own nimble fingers.
Thrills of pleasure shot down from her breast towards his lapping tongue. In shock, Marigold found she was pushing herself onto his face. She was grinding her saturated pussy into his smooth mouth and chin.
His talented tongue working some strange bayou magic on her cunt. Pulling, thrusting, swirling sensations pulsed as her salty juices began to permeate the air. Her breath growing shallower as a finger joined his roving mouth.
She couldn't understand her body betraying her. It was fighting to feel the throws of ecstasy he always seemed to experience. She felt a powerful current pulling from the core of her stomach. Shooting pleasure radiating towards his tongue.
Marigold teased her sharp nipples as Jackson's dark eyes bore into hers. She felt his grip tighten as he buried his face into her pussy lips. Her cunt taking his tongue hostage as he annihilated her swollen nodule.
A scream ripped from Marigold's throat, her back arching off the bed. Her hand left her breast to push his face farther into her exploding juices. Her pussy was leaking a gush of pleasure. A feeling she'd never thought to have in this room.
Her body shivered as cool air caressed her skin. She took deep, shaking breaths to calm her heartbeat. She couldn't believe she'd let him do that. She'd dropped her guard and now he could use it to hurt her.
Marigold jerked herself up and away in a flash, sliding toward the other side of the bed. Her hands grabbed handfuls of the sheet, trying to pull them over her flushed body. She saw the look of confusion on his face, along with a change in his eyes. She didn’t care. He couldn’t…he wouldn’t…she wouldn’t let him. He wouldn’t give her such pleasure. She didn’t want to feel it from him.
She could imagine the thrill of his tongue on her pussy. She knew it would dig in, lapping her walls. Sucking in her cunt juices. Making her honey flow before asking for the same in return. If he did this to her, he’d know she could feel pleasure. He’d be able to torture her pussy in order to get what he wanted from her. He’d have all the power.
“Don’t you touch me.”
Her voice was harsh and gravely. A mixture of lust and anger coating her words. She saw his own brow furrow before he stood. His cock pulsing with need. The head a dark red color. His balls swollen with semen, ready to pump it all inside her. He could do as he pleased with his dick but not her pussy.
“I was just going to-“
“I know what you were doing.”
“I thought it’d….”
He shook his head, sitting on the edge of the bed. She’d thrown him for a loop but didn’t care. The room stayed silent as her breathing returned to normal and he seemed to collect his thoughts. She saw his eyes turn on her, a specimen to be examined.
He moved closer to her, his hand reaching out for her leg. All she tasted was fear. A petrified feeling he’d know what he could do to her. Use it against her. Take another piece of her away. Marigold didn’t care what he wanted or what he was about to do. In a flash, her hand reached out and slapped him.
In the confines of the bedroom, it sounded like a bomb exploded. Her hand stinging like fire. A mark already visible on his cheek. Marigold put her hand over her mouth as she gasped and moved as far away from him as she could get. She was already on the edge of the bed, but the look on his face told her to move farther.
She hadn’t meant to hit him. Jackson looked at her with eyes she remembered very well from a few days ago. They were burning with undisguised anger. A merciless tint to his every breath. She knew he was going to kill her. The very room grew cooler, it seemed to be holding its breath just as she was.
His hand reached out and Marigold tensed for the strike. Instead, his hand snatched her chin in a painful grip, jerking her body across the bed to his. His brown, now almost black in their rage, eyes glowered at her. She felt her heart skip a beat, her lungs felt starved for air and she realized she’d had yet to breathe.
“Don’t ever slap me again.” His voice was completely calm. Her heart jerked in her chest.
“I will kill you, Marigold Fontenot. Do you understand me?”
His voice was deathly quiet but every word crystal clear. His tone spoke volumes and in utter disbelief, she felt her pussy convulse. It seemed to reach out to him. Zinging pings of pleasure telling her to spread her legs so he could finish what he’d started.
She was so lost in the thought of his tongue on her now saturated pussy, she forgot to answer. She saw a change on his face, it hardened making him look older. Making him look like the killer he promised to be. She tried to keep her scream pushed down as his grip tightened.
“Yes sir. I won’t. I understand.”
Her voice was a whisper but not a plea. No matter how harsh he was towards her, she wouldn’t beg for a reprieve. He let go of her face and stood. In a rush of jerky movements, she watched him yank on his clothes. His erect cock forced down by his jeans. His ripped muscles disappearing beneath a button up shirt.
“I’ll be back in a little while.”
“Where are you going?” The words came out before she could stop them. What did she care? He was going away. She wouldn’t have to be afraid…for now.
“The bar because if I stay here…I’ll kill you. You are the most…you just flabbergast me to no end. You’re so…damn stubborn, and mercurial and you’re driving me fucking crazy! God, just…damn it Marigold! I’ve never met anyone who made me want to kill them, fuck them, beat them and love them at the same time. You just…dammit!”
He was out the bedroom door before she could say a word. She heard the slamming of everything that got in his path and suddenly, there was blessed silence. Marigold sank onto the bed but she didn’t cry. Her entire body shook, her resolve shaken, but she refused to weep.
She knew Jackson would come back for her. God, help her when he did. She hadn’t paid for what she done, but she would. She knew she would. The zing of her pussy drew her attention once more. Marigold placed her finger inside her cunt walls, drawing back sticky cum. Her body wanted Jackson. Jackson wanted her body. What about her though? Neither seemed to want Marigold. Neither cared about her wants.
Marigold got up. Marigold put on clothes. Marigold took off her clothes before Jackson came home for lunch. Jackson had her in whatever way he wanted. Marigold took a shower, then put on clothes. Marigold exercised in the small room. Marigold stared out the window until she saw Jackson come home and she took off her clothes once more. Marigold lay, or stood, or bent in whatever way Jackson wanted. Marigold ate, though most days she could barely swallow the food.
Marigold got hurt again by Jackson and wondered when it would ever stop. Marigold lay in bed at night with her tormentor’s arm around her, questioning herself on why she didn’t break it and run. Marigold dreamed of home and she dreamed of the boogie man. Marigold woke up to find the boogie man beside her and her day started over in the same manner as the one before.
Day in and day out, she would be nothing. Day in and day out, she prayed for a peace that wouldn’t come. She prayed for a hero that didn’t exist. She prayed for a stop to the madness. A stop to the pain. She prayed that something, anything, would break the cycle of just being used for her body.
Someone had to save her because she couldn’t save herself. If she tried, it would only get worse. Marigold didn’t believe she had the strength to survive worse. So time passed, the rhythm never broken, except when he asked questions that we’re answered with a trace of contempt.
Sometimes she spoke before she could stop herself. In turn, she received such a rhythm of pain she couldn’t imagine ever being touched on her cunt again. Yet, she knew it would only be a part of the next cycle. One day like the next, stretching into forever, and maybe even a little beyond.
It had been almost two months and Jackson had bought himself some more time. His Daddy saw how much he liked Marigold, and a man deserved some happiness when he came home after a long day at work. Marigold hadn’t changed in two months and the one night he’d taken her to the bar; she’d spit on a patron and threw a glass of water in another’s face.
Part of Jackson was glad. He didn’t like to share what belonged to him and Marigold belonged to him. Part of him was disappointed Marigold was the same ice queen she’d always been. His Daddy was disappointed she wasn’t worth anything but Jackson paid her bill and so, he could have her.
Sometimes, Jackson woke up in the middle of the night to see her sitting in the moonlight. Always her hair covered her like a shield. In those moments, he wanted to join her and have a simple conversation. He wanted to touch her face and brush his fingers across her lips. He wanted to let her know freedom waited for her one day down the road, but he didn’t.
She always spoke to him with such icy disdain in her voice; he could barely control his temper. A rage inside him he hadn’t known could be so quickly ignited, until now. So the days passed a lot alike, summer became autumn and Marigold stayed like winter.
“Take your hair down.” That’s all he said as he burst into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
Marigold felt herself jump at the force of his arrival. “I just put it up.”
“I said take it down. I won’t ask you again.”
His eyes were filled with anger, his voice holding more than exasperation. She shot him a look that told him where he could go. The look on his face, the cruelty of his eyes, made her think twice about back talking him more though. She began to pull the pins out, slowly. Her hair fell in black curly waves around her, a sweet coconut lime smell wafting around them. Jackson ran his fingers through her wet hair and breathed in the scent of shampoo.
“Do you put clothes on when I leave and take them off when you hear me come home?”
She didn’t answer and Jackson raised his hand to her. He’d yet to strike her but today could be the day. Marigold didn’t know why he was so pent up with rage but she realized she needed to be smart. She’d simply answers the questions.
“Even though you know it makes me angry.”
“Why do it? Why wear clothes at all? Why defy me at every turn?”
Marigold felt the thread of her temper starting to stretch thin. She may’ve been stuck in this hell, but he didn’t have to be so surprised she still had a damn will of her own. What she did when he was gone was between her and the empty room. She felt her pulse quicken as anger coiled deep inside her. A quick for temper waiting to strike at whatever he threw out.
“Why ask a question you know the answer to?”
He smiled, sending panic along her skin and pinging messages to her brain. His finger ran over her cheek before he pulled her to him for a kiss. It was hard and demanding. He grabbed handfuls of her hair but she made no sound, and barely responded. She willed her body to do her this one favor.
He jerked back, still holding her hair in a death grip. “Are you always so cold?”
“I’ve already answered that as well.”
“Do you want to stand by your answer from so long ago?”
Her bare feet met the tip of his work boots, her tiny frame bowing up to his in confrontation. She felt the room sizzle with their combined anger.
“You are without a doubt the most….”
She watched him back up. Saw his hands clench into fist and realized they were quickly reaching the point of no return. She would remain this way toward him. He deserved it.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Jackson moved away from her so he wouldn’t slap her. It would do him no good. Nothing he’d done had done him any good. She was cold as ice and hard as a diamond. He couldn’t win. She wasn’t going to break. He never thought he’d meet such a lost cause. Never thought something, or someone. would defeat him. He’d been wrong.
“What do you want from me?”
Her quiet voice seemed to fill the entire room. He stared at her in surprise. She never spoke unless he made her, and still it was a challenge. He saw her eyes were ready for battle but her voice seemed sincere.
“To lose the attitude and thaw out that personality some.”
“Why? What good would that do you? I’ll still hate you. I loathe your very existence. You took me from my family, threw me into some whore house, sent me to a Podunk shit bar filled with shit ignorant people, then I became your little toy. You want a best friend you can ask about their favorite animal, then go out into the world and find one.”
“I know you’re from here, but even you’re not ignorant enough to think your play thing is going to be your friend, are you? Do you really except me to hold your hand and sing Kumbaya? Well get real! If you died today, I’d spit on your grave and pray that the Devil was giving you your due. Is that what you wanted? Was that honest enough for you? Are there any misconceptions about how I feel or what I think about you? Because there sure as shit shouldn’t be!”
Her eyes flared like heated daggers, scraping across his skin with a fiery hate. Her voice echoed around the room, piercing his ears, igniting the tamped down rage only she seemed to bring out in him. Jackson stepped back, searching the room for something. He spotted exactly what he wanted, a belt with a nice silver tip.
All rational thought left his mind. He saw red everywhere his eyes turned. Fury coloring his every thought and movement. Jackson no longer existed. The good man he’d always believed himself to be, was choked out by her hateful, truthful words. If she thought him a monster, he’d show her what a monster could do.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Marigold saw where he was heading. She felt the shift in the room. Whatever line he’d drawn in the sand pertaining to her, she’d crossed it tenfold. Her eyes landed on the belt as his large hand reached for it. A gut wrenching fear swallowing any pride she had left.
She was well aware of what those could do to bare skin and she was frightened. The sex that left her bleeding would be nothing compared to the scars that belt would leave. Marigold took one look at him coming toward her, and she ran. She was out the door and halfway down the hall when she felt him grab her hair. Marigold’s screams echoed around the hallway, yet no one came to her rescue.
Jackson jerked her, dragging her into his bedroom by her hair. She’d never had it pulled like this before. She felt like her scalp was being torn off. She hit at his legs with her tiny fist as she twisted and turned, but the belt found her naked body. Over and over again, he hit her. Marigold wouldn’t cry, but she screamed as she tried desperately to pull her hair from his fist.
“I hate you! I hate you! You make me sick! You’re nothing! Just a piece of trash in a nothing town like the rest of us! You’re a monster, and a coward and I hate you!”
Marigold jerked her hair from out of his grasp and crawled across the floor. The once soft carpet bit into her knees. Her fingernail got snagged, causing it to rip off as a burning pain shot through her. The belt found the back of her thighs and bare ass. She felt it go into her hair, tearing down her back as it got snagged in the curls.
Marigold wasn’t a coward. She wasn’t like them. She built up her courage, silently praying her legs would let her stand. She would face his wrath. Make him look her dead in the eye as he treated her like a piece of shit, like some rag doll he could fuck over.
She found the strength to stand; turning to him as the tip rained down on her skin. She felt all the different burning spots and she smelt blood. Another hit got her across the stomach and she flinched. The next one came close to her cunt and Marigold gave him a murderous look in the now sweltering room.
“You’ll never be anything to anyone. It takes a strong man to not fall to the powerful lure of cruelty. You’ll never be that man. I hate you.”
Marigold stood there as all the anger poured out of Jackson, through his swinging arm and into the leather belt. She didn’t even try to run from the blows anymore. She simply stood, legs shaking but holding her up. She let the sharp metal wreak havoc across her uncovered skin and she bled in silence.
Jackson gave one final lick of the belt across her thigh, before storming out of the room as violently as he’d stormed in. Marigold felt her legs give out as sank to the floor and sobbed. What new level of hell waited for her when the monster returned?
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Gravel flew as Jackson pulled into the parking lot of the bar. He needed to go back to work but he couldn’t. He was still shaking with rage. He wanted to kill her. She’d been so cold, arrogant and smug. How in the hell did she think she was above all them, and that everyone else but her was ignorant? Trash is what she thought of him. Jackson slammed the truck door and barged into the bar. Terry looked up and just shook his head.
“Girl problems?” His cousin smirked but Jackson didn’t.
“Scotch and keep it coming.”
“That bad huh?”
“You have no idea.”
Jackson threw back the first shot, but tasted nothing. He drank another, it burned but still no taste. Another and another kept cascading down his throat. No matter how many he drank, he couldn’t erase what he’d done. What his rage had done. He’d crossed a line he’d never thought he’d cross. His Mama would be disappointed. The Lady in the Moon would be disappointed. When had he become the monster she’d once accused him of being?
He could still see the fear in her eyes when she saw the belt. He’d instantly realized she known the feel of it before. For so long he’d wanted to break her, get a reaction, but he hadn’t expected that one. He hadn’t expected her to run. The red tint of fury had been too strong, it compelled him to chase her.
What stood out the most to him, as he threw back his fifth scotch, was how she’d just stood there. She’d just let the belt keep falling over her bare skin and hadn’t shed a tear. She’d simply held her ground, taking the beating in silence. He knew she was strong, but he hadn’t expected steel. He could still see the look in her eyes and they defied him. He knew she would’ve stood there forever.
The last image he had, was of blood flowing down her leg as they stood in the completely silent room. He threw back another scotch and willed that image to go away. He’d wanted to hurt her, but he hadn’t wanted to be a monster. He still didn’t know how it’d gotten so bad but his temper had taken over, and there’d been no going back.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Two hours later Jackson walked into a silent, empty house. He rubbed his hand over his face and prepared himself to face her. He figured she’d probably be ready for another go-round, since he’d given her a reason. He walked in the bedroom and found her huddled on the floor by the window. Her panties as her only form of protection. Her head propped up on her arms, which lay across the window sill.
She didn’t turn when he walked in. He could still see the blood smeared on her legs and was surprised she’d done nothing to clean up her wounds. He looked her over, taking in what he’d done to her. He allowed it to burn into his memory to use for the next time she pissed him off. He refused to hurt her again.
He refused to be a disappointment to himself ever again. He was better than that. He wasn’t the coward she thought he was. Her words still rang in his ears: it takes a strong man to not fall to the powerful lure of cruelty. He had in that one moment but it wasn’t who he was.
He went into the bathroom and found a towel in the drawer. He folded the soft material on the counter top, before pulling out cotton balls, alcohol, bandages, and ointment. After setting everything out, he walked over to her. He kept his movements slow and non-threatening. She didn’t seem to notice he was coming.
“Sir?” She didn’t turn to him. Her words were her only acknowledgment.
“Look at me.”
He kept his voice gentle, hoping it’d convince her to turn. She did and he saw the look of surprise flash across her face. Her eyes landed on his out stretched hand, before she looked up into his eyes, and shook her head.
Jackson moved closer to her and she flinched. “Please Marigold.”
She titled her head like a bird, studying him as his plea hung between them. Tentatively she put her hand in his as he pulled her up. He noticed her legs shook. Knew it was all his fault. He suddenly lifted her tiny body in his arms, her surprised gasp tickling his ear. Her head rested gently on his shoulder, and he realized it was the only time she’d ever moved to voluntarily touch him.
Neither said a word as he sat her down on the folded towel before putting some alcohol on a cotton ball. He saw his own hands were shaking, something which had never happened to him before. Now that’d he’d broken her, he was afraid of shattering her.
At the first touch of the burning liquid, he heard a gasp. He wanted to comfort her, but her face was turned away from him when he looked up. He swabbed the cut and moved onto the next one. Goosebumps covered her pale skin but her body was warm.
He moved to the next cut and it seemed to sizzle. He flinched at the sound but not a peep escaped her. He moved on again and again. Each wound a raw red gash, lighting up like fire at the touch of the alcohol. The only sound in the bathroom was their breathing and the bubbling of alcohol.
He touched the next cut and heard a popping noise. Suddenly, Marigold jerked her leg away as she yelped. He looked up to find tears streaming down her face. Blue pools of pain stared out at him, tearing a path along his heart. Gorging a knife into his guilty conscience.
“Please stop. I’d rather die than feel that again. Please, just stop touching me.”
Her hands covered her face and she seemed to shrink back even further into herself. Jackson hadn’t expected tears. He hadn’t expected pleading. After all this time, he didn’t like the sound of it. It wasn’t music to ears as he’d led himself to believe. Now, he would do anything she asked to make it stop. He wasn’t a monster. He had to prove he wasn’t a monster.
He put the alcohol away and pulled out the peroxide. “This won’t hurt as much, okay?”
She nodded, but didn’t move her hands from her face. He had to see her eyes. He had to feel the shame of what he’d done, wash over him. He moved them for her as he gazed into her tear stained face. Sad eyes peered back at him, and Jackson didn’t know what to say. Sorry would never be enough.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
He put the peroxide on another cut and it bubbled. She hated the smell of it, reminding her of dirty feet, but it didn’t burn like liquid fire. Marigold watched it foam up before she turned away. She was scared of his kindness. Was he doing this so he could torment her later? He now knew she feared the belt, would this become a part of her demise? How could these cuts burn so bad? Would she have reminders of this time left on her body for later?
She flinched as he moved higher and higher up her thigh. His hands grazing her as they’d always done. Making memories roll over her from every angle. Dear God, would he want her after he was done? How on earth was she supposed to go through the motions after what happened? She sighed, her body shuddered, and she simply wanted it all to be over.
“Did I miss any?” His voice in the silent bathroom sounded like a gunshot, causing her to jump. She saw concern in his eyes. He reached out to…she didn’t know what, but she moved away. She stared at him, giving away nothing in her eyes. His bore into hers but not with cruelty. It was disconcerting. She looked down while shaking her head.
He lifted her chin and searched her eyes. His strong grasp not harsh like was the norm. “Marigold?”
“Did I miss one?”
His tone was demanding, but laced with thoughtfulness. It sent mixed signals to her brain, making her unsure in a room where she’d once been so damn sure of herself. She nodded but turned away. She knew there was one just below the lip of panties, but she didn’t want him to touch her. Her body may’ve come alive beneath his hands; unlike any others she’d known before, but she didn’t want to feel him on her ever again.
She saw his hand reaching toward her cunt, knew he would touch her. He’d been lying. He was still cruel. She hated him. She grew rigid and was tensed to spring. He would never touch her again. She’d fight to the death this time.
“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you.”
She gawked at him in response. Her ears unbelieving at his words. He wouldn’t hurt her? He already had. She shot him a glare, letting him know he was a little too late. To her surprise, he smiled a warm smile.
“I won’t.” His voice sounded soothing, making her almost believe him.
He put more peroxide on a cotton ball and placed it on the last cut. This one was bad and had torn a little. She knew it needed a bandage, saw he’d already laid some out.
She took a deep breath and her body grew less tense. She felt her muscles relax as her adrenaline started to fade. He bandaged this cut like he’d done the two on her back and the other really bad one on her thigh. All the others were clean and she knew she’d clean them again later.
She didn’t want any marks left upon her to add to her old ones. She watched as he methodically put everything away before reaching for her. Her body tensed once more as his hands wrapped around her tiny waist. He lifted her and stood her on her feet. For an instant, she shook but then became ramrod straight. She made her face blank as well as her eyes. His warm hands stayed placed on her hips. Bruises lay just beneath them, but he wasn’t adding any now.
“I have something for you.”
He released her body, which swayed, but Marigold made sure to catch herself. She watched him walk out of the bathroom as she followed. From a bag he pulled out a long, red nightgown and a matching robe. He held it up for her to see. Marigold crept close to the gift, tentatively reaching out to run her fingers down the silky fabric. She said nothing but smiled on the inside. She had always loved the feel of silk, had never thought she’d own it. In Bayou, one didn’t need silky nightgowns. Red was one of her favorite colors. How had he known?
She drew back her hand and gazed up at him. She found he was intently watching her. A look of sorrow on his face, guilt in his eyes. All of this was too sudden. She wouldn’t trust anything he said or did. Hope would not be at her fingertips, then snatched away.
“I…I wasn’t sure about the color but I…I thought you might like to wear something pretty.”
“I actually get to wear it?” She saw a nervous smile cross his face. She felt it was a valid question after everything.
“Yes, Marigold. I bought it for you to wear.”
“You’re welcome. The house is empty, so why don’t we go downstairs and I’ll make us something to eat.”
He held out the gown to her and she felt a twinge of fear. She would rather he be cruel. She understood and could accept it from him. Kindness was wrong. Compassion didn’t fit the image she held of him. She wanted to slink away and blend in with the wall.
She wasn’t a coward though. She’d taken everything he’d thrown at her so far. A nightgown would be no different. She slipped it off the hanger, letting it flow over her naked body like rippling water. She’d never known a single piece of fabric could make her feel alive. Make her feel human.
“It looks beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
“What do you want from me?”
“To eat dinner with me.”
“Because…it’s what people do at six o’clock at night.”
She tilted her head, wondering if he’d lost his mind between here and the bar. She could smell the scotch on him and knew he’d gone there. She saw a smile cross his face. It wasn’t cruel or cold. It seemed genuine, making her heart skip a beat. In an instant, she was granted the image of what others saw when they liked him. When they wanted to be in his company.
He’d hurt her. He’d raped her. He’d beaten her with a belt. He’d taken her freedom. He’d made her life a living hell. He’d awakened her body. He…he was a monster but…Marigold felt a shift. A shift toward a ticket to getting out of here. If she could do as he said when he hurt her, she could do as he said when he was being nice. If she did, her future waited for her and maybe, just maybe; it wasn’t in this realm of Hell.
He looked both surprised and genuinely happy. “Good. Let’s go.”
Marigold smiled and took his offered arm. All she had to do was play along and she would get her freedom. Let the acting begin.