This chapter is for SimonSays1 with my thanks for his patient encouragement...
*
Although I had gone to bed feeling happy and relaxed after kissing Carlos good-bye, the nightmare came back that night. What is supposed to be a happy occasion for every girl, the wedding night, had indeed been an ordeal for me and it often came back to haunt my sleep. The dreams were always so realistic, such exact replicas of the real thing, that I regularly woke up bathed in sweat with tears of pain and humiliation running down my cheeks.
Apart from a bit of hasty and reluctant groping that I had endured from the two "boyfriends" my own age that I had had before I married Kevin I was totally clueless about sex. Kevin was thirty-one and ecstatic to get a virgin of twenty in return for a promise to my dying mother that he would always take care of me. He was a smooth talker, charming when he wanted to be, and very persuasive. Because I could never leave my mother's side for longer than an hour or two at a time until she died, Kevin and I had never had a chance to have sex before we got married in a sad little ceremony at the registrar's.
Then there were the inevitable drinks with Kevin's pals, before we went home. I was tingling with anticipation and scared of what was to come at the same time. As I had been a loner both at school and at work, I really did not know what to expect, the other girls had never shared their experiences with me. Oh, sure, I knew the basics and the technicalities, but no more.
Kevin slammed the door of the flat behind us and grabbed me roughly around my waist with one arm, his other hand settling on the collar of my blouse and ripping downward, scattering buttons in every direction.
"Let's see what I got myself here," he said, pulling the sides of the garment apart.
"Wait, please, Kevin..." I stuttered, confused and frightened by his behaviour.
"I've had enough of fucking waiting, now it's time for some fucking screwing." He laughed at his own crude joke, a spine-chilling sound, as he took hold of the front of my bra cups and wrenched them down, tearing the lace and the shoulder straps, leaving painful welts on my delicate skin. One of his fingernails had scratched my breast, the line that wept ruby beads of blood stood out starkly against my paleness.
"Kevin, please, you're hurting me." I cried.
He did not even bother to reply and continued to stare at my breasts. "Well, a bit more meat on you would be nice, but that can't be helped now." He said, kneading me hard and pinching my nipples roughly. I tried to back away from the pain but he shoved me against the wall, holding me there with the weight of his body. "You could at least pretend to like it after all I've done for your mum. Now it's your turn to reciprocate and thank me." Kevin went on, twisting my nipples brutally in case he did not already have my full attention. That was the moment when I began to hate him and resolved not to beg him. I had made a huge, disastrous mistake by marrying him but I was not going to allow him to break me.
Moments later, my skirt was up around my waist and Kevin shoved my panties to the side between my legs. Cutting pain lanced through me as he speared two fingers inside me hard. I gasped but would not allow him the satisfaction of crying out. He withdrew his fingers and shoved them in again and again.
"Come on, loosen up, for fuck's sake!" Kevin snarled, as I clenched my teeth against the pain. But I could not prevent a tear from spilling down my cheek and this seemed to infuriate him even more. Kevin ripped the crotch of my panties apart, leaving the tattered remains around my waist, then he pulled me away from the wall and dragged me into the living room. Pushing me face-down over the back of the sofa, he knelt on the seat, opened his fly and shoved his dick into my mouth.
"Get it nice and wet, slobber on it, there's a good girl. It's in your own interest." He mocked. I gagged and fought nausea at his rank smell, at the fear of having to take this massive cock inside me when his mere fingers had already hurt me so, but he pulled out again before I was in serious trouble. Then he was behind me, trying to shove his dick into me. I struggled, but he was too strong, so I stuffed the knuckles of one hand into my mouth to stop myself from screaming. Finally, he managed to impale me on his cock, making me groan in spite of my resolve as he ripped my hymen, and began to thrust hard and fast. What had hurt me so turned out to be a blessing of sorts because finally my blood eased Kevin's passage and the searing pain dulled as he continued to fuck me. When he reached around me to maul my breasts and twist my nipples, I let the tears flow freely, but I did not cry out. At last he came, pinching my nipples even harder while the spasms shook him. A moment later, he pulled out and left me there without a word. He took me again that night, in our bed, but it did not hurt so badly because I was still slick with his semen and because the missionary position seemed to make it easier for me to take him in.
The next day, I overheard Kevin talking to one of his pals on the phone. "...she's a frigid bitch," he said, and her tits are not what the Wonderbra promised either, but she'll serve until I find something better." That final humiliation was always the moment when I woke from my nightmares, unable to sleep again all night.