Page 22 of Taken By the Soldier
He also insisted we consummate our marriage, though in the end, I hadn’t put up much of a protest. Once he discovered the damning slickness between my thighs, I’d practically turned to putty in his masterful hands.
My pussy clenches when I recall how embarrassed I was when he turned me over his knee, and I can feel the wetness growing, soaking my panties, as I remember the scolding he delivered and the harsh way his palm had bounced off my bare bottom cheeks.
If I displease him, I know he will punish me again.
In an effort to distract myself, I walk through the house, peering out each window I can find, trying to get as good a look at the settlement as I can during the light of day, even if it is raining.
I can scarcely believe I’m here, in enemy territory. The Zasforrans claimed this land, and I doubt the Americans will ever manage to claim it back. Not when our government has pretty much fallen. Not when the president and other top officials are missing or presumed dead. Not when most of the American military, or what’s left of it, has abandoned the East Coast.
Disbelief sweeps through me, and I have the sudden sense that I’m dreaming, that none of this is really happening. I give my head a harsh shake, trying to regain my wits.
Standing at a guest bedroom window, I watch as three women hurry down a walkway, umbrellas in hand. They’re wearing dresses in the Zasforran style, which basically resemble the kind of dresses women used to wear in the early 1900s—far too long with too much fabric and weird ruffles and lace. Yep, the Zasforrans are backward as fuck, and I still don’t understand why my sister decided to move there.
Will Luka eventually expect me to wear the weird fashions of his people?
If he presses the issue, I am determined to refuse. I think I look just fine in jeans and t-shirts, thank you very much. Besides, I don’t want him dictating how I dress. That crosses the line.
But what if he insists? What if heordersme to wear an old-fashioned dress?
My stomach flutters at the prospect of displeasing him, at the possibility of being turned over his knee again. A heated wave of something—desire?—flows through me, making it difficult to catch my breath.
I watch as the women disappear into a large house, and I wonder who lives there. Are they visiting a friend?
An unexpected sense of loneliness descends, and I find myself wondering what Adella and Chloe are doing right now. I don’t know where they live, and I haven’t seen them walking around the settlement yet. Have their husbands locked them inside their homes? Or have they earned their husbands’ trust enough to be allowed outside already?
It's not as though I had an active social life before the war, but I can’t banish the painful solitude that resonates inside me. I don’t really know anyone in the Deep Creek settlement. But if I left… well, it’s not as though I could resume the few friendships I had before the fighting broke out.
To the best of my knowledge, everyone from my old life is either dead or missing. Maybe some of my former coworkers and friends made it safely west, but given the violence I witnessed on the news, I have my doubts.
Grief clutches me at the memory of what happened to my parents. The evacuation at the start of the war had led to mass hysteria, and too many people died as they tried to flee. Guilt ravages me with so much force, I sink to the floor, unable to hold myself up anymore.
They’d invited me to vacation with them in Delaware. They’d rented a large house on the beach, hoping I would join them, even hoping Sophia would fly in for a few days as well. But my sister was too busy with work, and so was I.
God, I would give anything to go back and change that.
If I could do it all again, I would join them on vacation and then make sure they made it safely west. And I would insist Sophia come along as well.
But it’s too late.
They’re all gone.
Tears blur my vision, and I cover my face with my hands, overcome with emotion. It’s not fair that I’m alive and they aren’t.
And it’s not fair that the Zasforrans have taken over nearly the entire East Coast. It’s not fair that they’re taking women like me and forcing us into marriage, forcing us to follow their way of life.
When I hear a door open, followed by heavy footsteps, I take a deep breath and force myself to my feet as I hastily wipe away my tears.
Luka is home.
Not that this place ishome…
Can’t let him see me upset.
I strive to compose myself quickly. If I can endure threats from the mob and gangster wannabes, I can deal with an overbearing man like Luka.
Somehow, I will survive this war with my sanity intact.
Chapter10
