19. Catherine
Igripped the table as my husband pulled out, and he lifted up my hips as he often did, checking to make sure his seed stayed inside me. I tried to kick back at him, but of course he held my legs too tightly.
How I would love to kick him, claw his face off! But, as always, his strength was overpowering, the hard bands of his muscles effortlessly pinning me exactly where he wanted me.
He held me like that for several moments, my hips tipped up so nothing could roll out. I knew from experience that it would not help me at all to try to escape, but I did anyway, trying to grab the opposite side of the table and crawl away from him.
He only gave the sore skin on my cunt sharp slaps.
“Stop moving.”
When he was finally satisfied his release was going to stay inside me, my hips ached and he let me down on my feet.
“It was foolish to lie to me, Viscountess,” St. Erth bit out at me. “I told you what would happen if you tried to keep your cunt from me.”
The cold, unforgiving look on his face made my blood run cold, and I turned to run but he pounced, flipping me harshly onto his hard shoulder and knocking the wind out of my lungs.
I gasped for breath and pounded ineffectively with my fists on his broad back.
“Where are you taking me?”
“The dungeons,” my husband said.
For a moment I thought he must be making some kind of sick joke. But then I remembered that there was nothing too wicked for my depraved husband, as he stalked angrily out of the library and down the hall. I tried to grab at tables, doorknobs, pulling paintings off the walls to slow him down, but nothing worked. I kicked, but my skirts impeded me, and my husband opened a heavy door and began descending big stone steps.
“Stop!” I cried in a panic. “I want to go back upstairs.”
“You will,” St. Erth said grimly. “Tomorrow morning, after you have spent a night down here.”
Just as the door shut behind us I saw through a window that the last of the lingering twilight was dropping into the cold blue darkness of night. I tried to grab at the walls as we passed, but recoiled in horror as I found them slick and slimy.
“Take me back upstairs,” I begged, feeling my voice crack in my panic.
“Upstairs is for good wives,” St. Erth said. “But you thought you could keep me away from you. You were wrong, and you can sleep down here tonight as punishment.”
I pounded on his back as we descended the steps further. It was hard to believe it was a summer night down here. The stone walls kept everything so cool. St. Erth’s light was the only thing that illuminated the walls, and I was horrified to see that he had not been joking. As we descended to the dungeon floor, I saw the sturdy iron bars of cells appear in the flickering glow of his light.
As we reached the bottom of the steps, he reached a hand up to grab a heavy, thick ring of keys.
“You can’t truly mean to leave me here!” I shrieked as he walked down the line of cells.
“I certainly am,” he said. “Perhaps you’ll learn to be a good girl by the morning and not try to play tricks on your husband anymore.”
And then he unceremoniously upended me and shoved me into one of the open cells. I staggered and almost fell in the straw. There was an unpleasant, thick odor down here, as if the straw wasn’t changed regularly. I heard the clang of my prison door behind me.
I whirled around to see St. Erth on the other side, the door closed firmly after him. I flew to the bars, shaking them in a panicked fury.
“I hate you, St. Erth!” I cried angrily. “You are a heartless monster!”
He reached a hand through the bars, grabbing my chin, and pulling me closer. But it wasn’t to save me. It was to kiss me roughly, his tongue domineering in my mouth, his hands tightening painfully on me.
“Now you learn what happens when you don’t obey,” he said, then he turned to leave. “I will see you in the morning.”
I screamed as he left, his light receding with his long, rapid strides until it was no longer even a flicker at the end of the hall.
And then there was just darkness.
I clutched the bars convulsively, and I began to hear little scratching sounds behind me.
Mice!
I had always had a deathly fear of mice!
I flew around, kicking wildly at nothing, sobbing in my rage and fear, imagining them crawling all up my skirts.
There was a thin shaft of slightly brighter darkness, and I began to gradually feel my way around the wall toward it. Maybe there was a window! Maybe I could boost myself up and climb out somehow.
Then I could escape.
Or maybe I would fall and break my neck.
My hands felt something cool and hard, and I shrieked again.
What was that?
What if there was a corpse here? Or a skeleton?
I screamed again, even though I knew it was useless. I started forward, tumbling against whatever it was, and falling into the smelly straw. In a panic, I batted it away from me, sagging only in relief when I realized what it was.
A broom.
I put my head in my hands. My legs were shaking so badly that I didn’t think I could get up again.
Then I felt a tiny body scurry over my legs, and I leaped up, screaming and kicking at the air.
How many were there?Hundreds? What if they all decided to rush me at once, climbing my body and gnawing away at my skull, until there was nothing left of me in the morning except my teeth?
I screamed out again.
“Help! Please! Somebody help me!”
My groping hands reached the small window, my stomach dropping when I realized that not only was it only a tiny slit in the wall, but it too was thoroughly barred. I felt half-mad with fear and I shook on the thick bars with all my might.
That’s when my hands did touch the skeleton.