Page 6 of Your Sharpest Edge
More tears. I was certain I had cried everything out in the car, but that was far from the truth.
“Keep crying, wife. It turns me on.”
I closed my eyes as he yanked down the zipper on my dress. My heart was beating erratically. My palms were sweaty. My head was here, but I was trying to escape from this.
“Get on your knees and suck my cock.”
“I-I don’t know how to do that. I never...” I shook my head. “Please, Dimitri. I want to get to know you. I don’t understand... Did I do something wrong?”
Why was he being so cruel? I didn’t want to be married either, so this was as much a punishment to him as it was to me.
“You’re mine. My property. This is how a husband treats what is his.”
My parents didn’t have the best marriage, but this wasn’t how he treated my mother.
He yanked off my dress and shoved me to my knees. I cried in pain as they hit the cold cement floor.
“Open your mouth.”
I shook my head. “Please. Don’t do this.”
He brought his hands to my face and thrust his thumb into my mouth. I gagged and thought I was going to puke, but he used it to loosen my jaw and pry my mouth open.
“This is what a good wife does. If you’re forced to be my wife, then you’ll take it.”
“Why?” I tried to ask, but the words came out garbled.
He held me in place, one hand unzipping his pants while the other was shoved into my mouth. I wanted to bite down and run, but where could I go? Layla was already with our team, and they had found another roommate. I was alone in Orange County. My mother wouldn’t believe me if I told her what he was doing.
Everyone in my life dictated my actions and choices. I never had a say in who I married, the career I pursued, when it would end, the place I lived, or the friends I made. I never had a say... ever.
So, I didn’t bite him. Instead, I endured it from my new husband. His veiny cock sprang out, and I didn’t cry this time. I relaxed my jaw as he shoved his dick down my throat like he did with his tongue when he kissed me. He pulled out only to slam back in. Tears formed in my eyes, not because I was sad, but because of the pressure of him filling me up. He held onto my head as he thrust into my mouth.
“That is what a good wife does. I expect you to be on your knees and ready every time I’m home from practice.”
Another slam into my mouth. More tears.
“I expect you to have dinner on the table,” he demanded, continuing his assault.
Desperately trying to dissociate, just as I did when Coach would yell at me, I escaped into a familiar routine, one I knew by heart. In my mind, I watched myself glide effortlessly across the ice, performing a perfect pirouette. My body spun gracefully,arms extended, as the cool air rushed past. Each move was precise and fluid; the sharp edges of my skates carving patterns into the ice, my body arching and bending with practiced elegance. I was free, in control, and lost in the rhythm of my ice-skating routine.
“I have always been the best, Stassi. I’ve been the best hockey player, becoming the youngest captain. I was the best player in Moscow. My father told me I was nothing growing up, but I’ve always proved him wrong. Therefore, I will have the best wife.”
I nodded, trying to understand him. Maybe he was acting this way out of fear, shaped by whatever his father had done to him. I convinced myself that if I followed his rules, he’d eventually see that I was different—that I wasn’t like his family. This marriage was my only way to stay on the ice and keep pursuing my dreams. I was desperate to prove I belonged on the USA team, terrified of aging out and missing my chance. If being with him was the price I had to pay to keep skating, then I’d pay it. Besides, I wanted to appease my parents, who were certain they knew what was best for me, setting me up for success. I embraced this path, hoping it would lead to everything I’d worked so hard for.
“I’ll be good,” I said as he pulled out.
He paused and then thrust again. “I didn’t want this fucking marriage. I wanted to go out with my teammates. I wanted my freedom, but I was stuck with you. I hate you. I hate what you stand for. I hate everything between us.”
I felt bad for him momentarily. I wanted to tell him that I could relate. I felt the same way. I was stuck with him, and I didn’t want to be here either.
“I-I—” but my mouth was full of him, and I couldn’t speak.
“I hate you,” he cried as he slammed inside me. “I fucking despise you.”
Tears sprang from my eyes as he continued, but this time because I was sad for him.
“He took this from me. He took this from me, and I’m going to show him that he can never control me again after this. Never again.”
