Despite my desperate struggling, Kwartz holds me too tightly for an escape. As he breathes words into my ears in a mockery of romance, the useless fluttering of my wings eventually stills. The fear that floods my system feels like ice, and my legs seem frozen to the ground. I shudder as he shifts behind me, forcing my still-frozen legs farther apart.
I wanted this, he reminds me, I asked for it. And I had, I know deep down, this is my fault.
This is my fault.
When he bites down on the tender skin behind my ears, I hold back all but a whimper, and when he forces himself against me I pull my tail aside. Give him what he wants, I can hear my Mother's voice in my head, reminding me of my place. I'd never imagined this is what she meant, but surely it was. I caused this; this is my fault. I have to deal with the consequences.
Kwartz slams against me, again and again and again until my body accepts what my mind already has. There is still no pleasure in it for me, but from the sounds of the stallion atop me, he certainly enjoys it. I would have hung my head, dejected as he labors over me, but he holds my neck too tightly and I am trapped until he at last releases me.
I do not turn around even as he slides off me; my hooves still feel as though they are encased in lead. I can feel the dampness of the back of my thighs, and even through the pain I know that it is more than just blood. A patch of bluebells shifts in the wind at my feet, a reminder that I should be grateful for the season. This is what Arthas wanted from me, after all, though he had meant for me to bear the weight of a different stallion.
The act itself was worse than my Mother had implied ('smile and bear it'; 'your husband might not care for your pleasure, his is the most important'; 'never say no'.) I'd broken that last one, but Kwartz is not my husband. No need to 'be sweet, demure, and respectful always' then, another of Mother's often-repeated lessons.
"You need practice." I say, taking my gaze from the little blue flowers and looking over my shoulder at the stallion with my best attempt at an expression of disappointment. It was my fault, and it does hurt, but mockery feels safer than tears.
"You're never going to make a woman happy with a performance like that." At that I turn around, wincing at the pain when I twist my neck and readjust my sore hind legs. "I can't vouch for how happy His Majesty will be about this though," I add, tilting my head as though I am unconcerned. "I think King Arthas had intended me as an unsullied gift from Loess, but who knows. Maybe he'll appreciate you breaking me in."
@[Kwartz]
no worries about the powerplaying; had to happen
it seems like her response to trauma is sarcasm? who knows! :P
I wanted this, he reminds me, I asked for it. And I had, I know deep down, this is my fault.
This is my fault.
When he bites down on the tender skin behind my ears, I hold back all but a whimper, and when he forces himself against me I pull my tail aside. Give him what he wants, I can hear my Mother's voice in my head, reminding me of my place. I'd never imagined this is what she meant, but surely it was. I caused this; this is my fault. I have to deal with the consequences.
Kwartz slams against me, again and again and again until my body accepts what my mind already has. There is still no pleasure in it for me, but from the sounds of the stallion atop me, he certainly enjoys it. I would have hung my head, dejected as he labors over me, but he holds my neck too tightly and I am trapped until he at last releases me.
I do not turn around even as he slides off me; my hooves still feel as though they are encased in lead. I can feel the dampness of the back of my thighs, and even through the pain I know that it is more than just blood. A patch of bluebells shifts in the wind at my feet, a reminder that I should be grateful for the season. This is what Arthas wanted from me, after all, though he had meant for me to bear the weight of a different stallion.
The act itself was worse than my Mother had implied ('smile and bear it'; 'your husband might not care for your pleasure, his is the most important'; 'never say no'.) I'd broken that last one, but Kwartz is not my husband. No need to 'be sweet, demure, and respectful always' then, another of Mother's often-repeated lessons.
"You need practice." I say, taking my gaze from the little blue flowers and looking over my shoulder at the stallion with my best attempt at an expression of disappointment. It was my fault, and it does hurt, but mockery feels safer than tears.
"You're never going to make a woman happy with a performance like that." At that I turn around, wincing at the pain when I twist my neck and readjust my sore hind legs. "I can't vouch for how happy His Majesty will be about this though," I add, tilting my head as though I am unconcerned. "I think King Arthas had intended me as an unsullied gift from Loess, but who knows. Maybe he'll appreciate you breaking me in."
@[Kwartz]
no worries about the powerplaying; had to happen
it seems like her response to trauma is sarcasm? who knows! :P
