Chapter 47: The Bed Of Madness Pt1
Vivienne’s head was spiraling. She was seeing stars. Not because of love, not because of romance, but because this lunatic on top of her had actually said the words.
"He’s joking," she told herself. "He has to be joking. There’s no way. There’s absolutely no fucking way he means that. It’s noon. Noon! There’s no way we can fuck till sunset. That’s six goddamn hours. I’ll die. My vagina will physically detach itself from my body, write its will, and then flee this house. He’s just exaggerating. He’s trying to be dramatic."
But André leaned down, kissed her slowly, so slow it felt like her lungs were collapsing, and repeated in that silky voice of his, "Let’s make love till sunset."
Vivienne’s eyes widened.
"He’s saying it again," she screamed inside her head. "He’s not joking. He’s dead serious. This psycho wants to turn me into a corpse by sunset. Oh my God. If I die, I am going straight to hell. The devil himself will shake my hand and ask, ’How was it?’ Maybe I should start praying now. Dear Lord, forgive me for every bad word, for every scam, for every pocket I picked, for every married man I flirted with just to steal his watch. Please forgive me. Because this lunatic is about to send me to my grave."
And then, the bastard whispered, "I love you, Vivienne."
Her entire body froze.
"What?" she thought, her mind flipping upside down. "What did he just say? Did he just say he loves me? He can’t be serious. No. No, this is all part of his evil game. He’s obsessed. He’s sick. He’s insane. He’s... oh God he’s inside me."
André entered her slowly. So slow it felt like torture, like he was deliberately splitting her soul in half just to savor every second.
Vivienne’s brain short-circuited.
"God, this bastard is splitting me in two! My organs are not in their proper places anymore. My intestines are crying. My womb has packed its bags. This is not sex. This is structural damage. This is an earthquake!"
On the outside, though, she moaned. Sweet, soft, like she was in heaven.
Inside? She was seething. "I hope you choke on your own cock. I hope you fucking gag on it. Bastard."
André’s thrusts were slow, deep, drawn out. The kind of slow that wasn’t mercy but punishment. He was deliberately stretching it out, dragging her nerves raw, savoring her like she was some expensive wine.
"If he doesn’t fuck me properly soon," Vivienne thought, "I swear to God, I will bite his fucking tongue off the next time he kisses me. I will draw blood. I’ll swallow it too just so I can spit it back at him."
But out loud, her moans were soft, almost begging, like she couldn’t get enough. The betrayal of her own voice made her want to die.
André leaned close, his breath hot against her ear. "You’re mine, Vivienne. My soul, my everything."
Vivienne almost laughed. Almost. If she wasn’t currently being split open, she would’ve laughed so hard.
"Your everything?!" she thought. "I’m a tied-up hostage! Not your wife, not your lover, your fucking hostage! My arms are tied with a cravat, you delusional prince of lunatics. Everything? I’m literally your prisoner. I should never have come here. Never. I hate to say this but God, why did you make me so beautiful? Why couldn’t you just make me ugly and invisible? Then maybe this psychopath wouldn’t have looked twice at me. Then he wouldn’t have fallen in love with me. Now look? He’s completely obsessed."
Her nails dug into her palms, leaving little crescents in her skin, as she pulled against the restraint, imagining for one beautiful moment wrapping that same cravat around his throat and pulling. Pulling it till he choked on his breath and he was dead.
But her body betrayed her.
Her hips lifted. Her back arched. She begged for more without meaning to. She wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all.
Their kiss was messy, sloppy, wet, desperate. Vivienne kissed him like she hated him, biting his lip hard, like she wanted to tear a piece off. He moaned into her mouth, like even her hate was delicious to him, and whispered again, "I love you, I love you so much. I love you more than my own soul, Vivienne."
Vivienne thought, "Oh God, I literally taste my own despair. I taste sadness. I taste the funeral march of my sanity. Somebody put me out of my misery."
André pulled back slightly, his hands gripping her hips so firmly she knew she’d see bruises later. His eyes burned as he said the most outrageous thing she had ever heard in her entire goddamn life.
"Vivienne, this is only the beginning. I’ll make love to you until your body forgets the world."
Her soul flatlined.
"Beginning?! ONLY THE BEGINNING?! THIS IS ONLY THE BEGINNING?!" she screamed inside. "Kill me now. Somebody kill me now. Somebody stab me. Stab my heart. Anybody. A housemaid, an assassin, a gardener, a priest—please. Put me out of this. Forget the world? I already forgot my own fucking name! If this keeps up, I won’t even remember what year it is. I can’t do this anymore. This is madness. This is evil."
André thrust deeper. Slow, steady, relentless.
Vivienne’s body gave out, shuddering, trembling, melting under him, even while her mind raged and cursed him to hell.
She thought, "I’m going to faint. This is it. This is how I die. My gravestone will read: Here lies Vivienne. She was fucked into early death by a lunatic duke who thought six hours of fucking was romantic."
Her eyes fluttered shut, her moans slipping out despite every curse in her soul, and the Chapter ended with her body betraying her completely, giving itself to him, while in her head she was screaming for someone, anyone, to drag her ghost out of this cursed bed.