Some people seem surprised when my stories involve rape. If you're one of these people I don't know what to tell you other than I think you clicked the wrong genre, Loving Wives is up a few. If it helps, these two characters have a consensual non-consent relationship.
"I said no."
Kate was exasperated. "Julian, come on!"
He didn't answer, eyes on his laptop screen, jaw clenched.
"Please!"
Nothing.
"Julian. Julian!"
"Katie." He didn't even look at her. "Go into the bedroom so I can get some work done."
"I hate this. Fuck you." She snatched her laptop up from the couch and stomped down the hallway. He heard the bedroom door slam.
Julian fought the desire to go in there after her and returned his attention to the project he had to complete for work.
They'd been sleeping together for about a year now and had been together -- officially together -- for not quite as long. But after much discussion and deliberation, Kate had agreed to move in with him. He was her older brother's best friend, ever since they were kids -- she'd been in love with him for nearly half her life. It was a little rough getting there but now they were good -- together, happy, solid.
Kate had just earned her master's in Comparative Lit and had not yet decided if she wanted to go on to get her PhD. Meanwhile, she was teaching at the university three days a week and, while she loved it, the pay was poor. She was frustrated.
"Okay, two nights a week at the restaurant downstairs." She was standing in the hallway now, disheveled looking with nighty pulled over her jeans. She had one sock on and the other in her hand. "Just two. That's it."
Julian was quiet for a moment. Then, "no."
"It's. Not. Fair!" Kate exclaimed, throwing her sock on the floor. "What the fuck, Julian?"
"I need to get some work done."
"No! This is fucking ridiculous, you're not even fucking letting me--"
"You need to watch your temper."
"
You
watch your temper!" Katie snapped. "I don't need to fucking watch my temper, you do!"
"What the fuck do you think I'm doing right now." He looked up at her, finally pulling his gaze from the glowing screen. "Hm?"
She knew that look. Shut the fuck up and get out of my face. But she was incensed.
"Please," she whined. "I'll come right up when my shift is over, please."
"This is no longer up for discussion," he said slowly. He was trying very hard to keep his cool. "Go back to the bedroom because you're wearing on me."
"Two nights a week, Julian, oh my god. Two nights a week. In the restaurant downstairs."
"I said no!" He shouted, red in the face. He pounced to his feet and grabbed her by the arm before she could slip away. "No. It's fucking final." He squeezed until she whimpered. "Learn to listen to me when I say something is final." He started down the hallway to the bedroom, dragging her along with him. He threw her onto the bed. "I don't want to see your fucking face out there again." He pointed out toward the living room. "Just fucking stay in here for the rest of the night. Jesus." He slammed the door and went back to his work.
But an hour later she was standing before him.
"One night," she said, chest puffed out.
Julian sighed, saved his work, and closed his laptop.
"The answer is no," he said softly. He understood her irritation. She was used to getting exactly what she wanted whenever she wanted. Even as a kid she got exactly what she wanted, all the time. It was unbelievable. But still, her frustration was real and he respected that -- within reason.
"Please! Oh my god, please!"
"No," he said again. He remained seated on the couch.
This fight had been ongoing for several days. Julian, traditional as he was, refused to allow Kate to pay any bills or utilities. It wasn't a big deal to him like it was to her -- he earned plenty at his job and had an impressive savings. She, he was furious to find out, had no savings -- none -- and was living paycheck to paycheck, spending nearly everything on clothes, going out to eat, and alcohol.
A fight ensued. It got ugly, but Julian (the stronger one, by far) won (as always). If she was going to live with him she was going to learn how to manage her money. He took her credit card and gave her a modest allowance -- of her own money (he had offered to supplement it with some of her own, but she refused) -- to spend on what she wanted. Everything else went into her savings account.
In true Katie fashion she exploded. But not at first. A few days after her credit card was confiscated she found a dress at a nearby shop that she wanted more than anything (she wanted everything more than anything). She was short by $11. Julian refused to fork over the money until the start of the following week.
"It could be sold out by then!"
"I don't care."
"Julian!"
"Do you need it?" He shouted, his face inches from hers. "Will it keep you alive? Can you eat it? Can you drink it? Can you sleep under it?"
She struggled to find a retort but couldn't.
"You have so many fucking clothes," he spat, livid, "that they have taken over not only an entire closet but part of my office. You. Do. Not. Need. Another. Dress."
"Fuck you!" Katie screamed. "Then you don't get to see me
in
