A/N: Just a short story my fingers shot out the other day. It could become a full book, but it probably won't.
*****
I'm going to marry another catholic. I am going to be a loving, supportive wife. I'm going to bare him many children. My life was decided for me the moment I came out of my mother's womb with one of my own.
In fact, I've been engaged to a nice young man, an heir to a large estate and much out of my father's social circle. It's a miracle. I should be honored. I don't even know the man. There's not much I can do against it. Running away would be foolish. Spitting in his face would dishonor my family. This is my life, and there is only one thing I can do about it.
I can sully his prize.
That is why I am here, in a putrid tavern on the wrong side of town, to get laid. I do not particularly care who gets the honor of taking my virginity. Men have been grabby all night, mostly because I'm wearing a short skirt. I feel almost naked with my ankles showing, the fabric swishing over my calves. Most of them have been too intimidated to actually converse with me. A pity, I may arrive at the altar unscathed.
Finally, a man comes up beside me. I can smell the alcohol on his breath, but I smile past the pungent odor. He's not unattractive, but he is dirty. Hopefully we can get this done and over with.
"Why hello there, handsome," I say, pushing my body close to him.
"What's pretty little thing like you doing in a dump like this, eh?"
Even as he speaks, his grubby hand grabs my arm, pulling me closer. The front of my dress is almost pressed against his jerkin. I put my hand on his chest and lean in next to his ear.
"I'm looking for a man to make a woman out of me."
I pull back a little, and he's grinning, showing teeth on the edge of rot. I want to gag, but I take it. I can do this. I can spite him. He'll never even know.
"I know just the place."
That's that. The pleasantries are over. He pulls me by my hand out of the tavern, other men whooping and hollering, asking for a share. None of them actually follow us, and we go off into the misty night. He tugs and pulls me further and further away from the tavern. My heart starts to pound, and I swear the shadows move.
"I think this is far enough," I venture.
"Alright, if you're so keen for it, here's as good a place as any."
He pushes me up against a wall, ripping at the bodice of my dress. I wince, wondering how I'll make it home in such a state. He's rough, and I endure it. I'm doing this one thing for myself, I mustn't let pain get in the way. I help him undo his trousers, and his dirty cock almost springs to life between us. He gathers my skirts in his hands, pushing them up and pinning me against the wall with them. He makes me spread my legs, and then there is warmth and pain between my legs.
Endure, I can endure.
I'll just imagine my happy place. Yes, that's it. The rolling waves of the ocean, its borders endless and sounds soothing. Instead of the waves crashing on the rocks, I hear the sound of flesh slapping on flesh. His arms are braced terribly on either side of me, and he's grunting like a mad man. Besides that first bout of pain, this is really boring. I decide to take in the scenery. Nothing much there, just darkness.
And then something more than darkness, a moving shadow. As I watch, first glowing eyes appear, and then a full-toothed smile. It's disconcerting, but mesmerizing. The shadow grows nearer, the man in front of me thrusting and making my body bounce, none-the-wiser.
