by Poppet
I nod again, knowing what will happen as I've had to perform this duty for others on more than one occasion, watching him walk out while despair circles my soul in anguished arcs.
Fuck, Candace! What have you done to us?
What does he mean she's coming apart? Do I make her miserable? How's that even possible? God made her just for me.
Fear grips me and I go striding to the bedroom, punching the door wide open, staring at the naked lady sitting on my bed drying her hair with a towel.
Beautiful gray eyes watch me warily, her stomach taut with youth, her legs toned and folded demurely under her, her toenails pink, her nipples hard from the shower, pointing at me from D cups, her mouth full and precocious. She looks like she's been crying. I loathe that vicar for being right about her.
I don't think, I just swoop on her, wrapping her up against me, holding her tight, resting my head on hers.
I can't let you go, I can't give you to him. Don't you fucking understand?
•
Candace:
He bursts in by banging the door wide, a look of such intensity on his face, resolve and fear, his hazel eyes narrowed, his jaw tense enough to twitch the muscles in his stubbled cheeks.
Panic bullets through my system when he strides purposefully to me, picking me up and sitting with me, holding me so tightly I can't breathe. My heart thuds at the aggression and I'm expecting retribution for being rude to his precious vicar.
I endure it until his grip loosens and he holds my face in his big hand, covering my ear and staring into me for such an age that I'm beginning to wonder just what the hell Matthew said to him.
“Blossom, I need you to know that you can talk to me about anything. I'm your friend, your protector, I'm the man standing between you and harm. The bible says, Let the husband render unto the wife due benevolence: and likewise also the wife unto the husband. 1 Corinthians 7:3. That means I am merciful. I'm not your enemy. But you have to meet me halfway. What's got you so upset? Tell me, baby.”
“I…” The fact that he noticed means the world to me. And he cares enough to ask me what's wrong. It's dizzying. “…um… my life… it just went bang. It exploded in my face. My foundation is gone, and… I don't like being told to do something private between us for the vicar. What we do is none of his fucking business.”
Rubbing his face, looking tired and worn, his voice is hoarse when he says, “It is his business. He's guiding us in god's ways. He gives us divine tuition, but he can't do that unless we're completely transparent with him. I know this is hard for you Blossom, but truthfully your body, my body, they're without flaw. It's instinctive and good, it's precious, and I hate that you feel so ashamed over something so natural.”
“It was humiliating,” I whisper, the tears coming back.
He clenches his jaw, looking at me as if the whole world is crushing him, “Candace, that wasn't humiliating. It was between you and me and god. What will be humiliating is giving you to Matthew because you refuse to let me help you through this. You bottle it up inside and cry in private. I'm your partner, I'm the person you're supposed to come to with every problem, and instead I might lose you because you don't want my love and assistance. He's going to take you away from me. Then you'll be his and not mine, and you'll be the one up on that stage every Sunday instead of Lisa Spencer. He'll hurt you, baby. I know he will. Please, fuck… I can't endure having to watch him fuck you every Sunday and know you were mine and I lost you. Don't let him have a reason to take you away. Don't do this to us. Do you really not like me? Do I make you that miserable?”
I'm shaking, his words carving into me, delivering pain and shock and horror. “What?”
He frowns, “Candace, I'm in this all the way with you. You'll be a kept woman, you don't have to work, your days will be your own, you won't have to worry or fret about a single thing. Is the thought of being my partner in life that abhorrent to you? Do you not want privilege and security? Does the thought of me loving you disgust you? I'm a provider, I want to provide for you, I want to share everything with you. I accepted you without hesitation because the second I saw you I knew we were destined.”
“Um. Kenan. What do you mean he'll take me? That I'll be his?”
“It's the only way to protect you. If you don't adapt and embrace your perfection, well then the only way to protect you is to give you a high priest's endorsement. He'll take you as a concubine. That way neither of us will be punished for your sins. But…. fuck Candace, do you think that's what I want? Is that what you want? Would you rather be his than mine?” he says.
My skin feels colder than winter, my heart shriveling inside me, “No.” I shake my head, my answer a broken whisper, the tears now running full ball. “No, oh hell no. No fucking way.”
Sobbing, I can't speak, my mouth bitter and twisted, and I bury into his shoulder, knowing heart and soul I'd rather force myself to put up with his insatiable appetite than be alone with that misogynist. He gives me the jeeblies. Kenan feels warm and sincere and real. His tone, his anguish, he clearly wants me here, he wants to protect me, he doesn't want me to go to Matthew either. That gives me some comfort and relief. Where… how…. what just happened?
But… “Kenan, he can't have me. I'll just leave.”
He gives me a dark look, “I won't let you just leave. I'm not like you. The sinners out there think they can run away from every problem, just leaving when they have an argument or issue. This is something we work through, you have to at least try. We are not sinners, that's the devil talking, not you.”
Okay, so he doesn't want me to leave. Is this normal? Do guys really fall this hard and fast for a chick? Looking at his chest I stare at his t-shirt for ages, worrying. He's sexy and generous and everything a girl could wish for. Am I being stupid? When he walked up to me in Sodom I couldn't believe my luck, so why do I even have to think about it?
“Blossom, look at me baby,” he coaxes, lifting my chin, me still on his lap, encircled with strength and comfort, his heat thawing my terror.
It's a mammoth effort but I look into his eyes, wiping my nose and sniffing like a cavewoman.
He smiles, and it's affectionate and tender and all the things that make life worth living. Just seeing it makes me feel guilty for being so wrapped up in my own problems that I couldn't see that his life is affected by my actions now. He's the one who brought me here, it's his head on the chopping block right next to mine. They consider me a reflection on him. I'm hurting him, somehow.
“Why? I don't even know you. I know nothing about you. I don't know what you do for a living, or how old you are, or what kind of music you like, or…. anything,” I ask, doubt still sitting on both shoulders and whispering hate into my soul.
He doesn't answer, he just kisses me, long and soft and wonderful. Flopping onto his back, pulling me down with him, he says to the ceiling, his voice booming in his chest under my ear, “I'm a personal trainer for the ladies in our community. The Woman's Institute get together every other morning. We run together at seven on weekdays. They each have an hour session with me twice a week. They have ladies parties where men aren't invited, do baking and flower arranging, they compete for garden of the year, do brunch and coffee, I dunno all that they do but they're a tight knit community inside our greater community. I'm going to ask them to help you. I'll do anything to keep you, Candace. Fucking anything.”
Well, that explains his physique. He's a personal trainer. “Why the hell would you choose me when I'm not a fitness freak?”
Keeping me on him he strokes my wet hair, and I can just see his cheeks puff with a smile, “Just because I'm into weights doesn't mean I like my women built like Dwayne. I like plump, buxom, soft and supple. You're just right, babes. Don't let the outside world's perception of gorgeous convince you that you're not. The man for you will love you just the way you are.”
“Oh,” I squeak, rolling my lips in because I want to laugh with glee. Holy fuck, I won the man lottery!
“
Music, aaahmm, I have eclectic taste. It all depends on my mood,” he continues. “I'm thirty-four, born in Russia but adopted and raised here. I did my education in Britain and lived there for fifteen years before coming back here to work and live with my own people. All of god's sons go to medical school, from there we specialize in a field. That takes twelve years out of a man's youth for him. I chose to specialize in physiotherapy, sport's injuries, that sorta thing. I've always liked being active and sporty so becoming a personal trainer was the logical next step. I'm perfectly qualified for the job.”
Relaxing next to him with my head on his shoulder, I feel so inept and ignorant. “I'm a secretary. I'm not a genius.”
He pats my leg, “Not any longer. Now you're my little lady, my little saucy housewife who will win the heart's of the W.I., and one of these days we'll be throwing our own cocktail parties. Our happiness is only just having a chance to bud, please don't fuck it up. I don't want another woman after he takes you away. I don't want anyone else.”
Tension hits my solar plexus and I roll, resting my arms across his chest and staring into worry-lightened hazel eyes. “Tell me what I have to do. How do I stop him?”
I'd much rather be with Kenan than be Matthew's whore. Thanks to Jan I'm fresh out of options. He's right, he's offering me everything on a silver platter. Most women would give their left tit to be in my position. I might not like the taste of his cum but he's a nice guy, he's also nice to look at, and really I'd be mad to throw this in his face and give Matthew a chance at screwing me up.
If he does I'll run away. I'm not a prisoner, I can leave at any time, surely? But right now I want to see where this goes because Kenan is easy to love. We just need more time. Time Matthew is clearly trying to steal from us because he has a thing for blondes, or he has a gripe with Kenan and can see an opportunity to really stick it to him, abusing his power. I knew he gave me a bad vibe. He likes what he sees because I can give head or something. Talk about desperate. Matthew is not a nice guy. My lady senses tell me so.
Gazing down his chest at me, propping his head by folding his arms behind it, Ken looks at me with all seriousness, saying, “Don't be ashamed of being naked. This lifestyle is alien to you, I realize that, but it's normal. We're the normal ones, not those folks who harp on about chastity and that rubbish. You were born naked. If god wanted you to be wearing clothes he'd have made us with fur like he did the other animals. He made sex pleasurable because he made us to copulate and love doing it. The things god wants us to do feel good, so don't be ashamed of it. We'll find ourselves in many situations where we will be naked and touching with other people around. Ignore them all, focus on me, on what we have, help me nurture our love and commitment to each other. Don't let doubt back in, just surrender to what feels good, to what is natural and correct.”
I nod. He's right. I have to stop worrying about people looking, the people staring. Focus on him, on us. That's what you'd expect a good guy to say.
“And Candace…”
I sit up so I can look at him better, “Yes?”
“Don't shut me out. If you need a friend, an ally, a confidant, or just someone to hold you because you're freaking out, tell me. I can't protect you unless you let me in.”
That's it. My heart throbs with affection and I bundle on top of him, hugging him until my arms hurt with effort.
He laughs, rolling us, looking down at me, fingering my lips, “Your mouth is so sexy. When I look it I have very naughty thoughts.”
I love his accent. It will never get old. Only he would say naughty and make it sound so very upper crust and seductive.
“You have a one track mind,” I accuse.
“Not my fault, you do it to me. Now come on, let's go rummage through those boxes. I have surprises for you and can't wait to see you in them.”
•
Candace:
It turns out that my surprises are crotchless body stockings and very high heels. Apparently this is all the rage in the W.I. and he wants me to fit in with the rest of the ladies.
He had a three hour fashion show while I paraded in everything; the skirts and dresses and low cut blouses that showcase my cleavage which all met his boisterous approval, with many a nose dunking between my boobs and much fondling.
Plus there was kinky gear that he refused to let me see, telling me I'd find out about them soon enough. We had a chat about my underwear preferences and we agreed that I can wear normal undies until five each evening, then put my naughty 'knickers' on for when he gets home at 5:30. He doesn't expect me to know how to be a housewife, the ladies he trains will help me find my footing in this arena, and until then I can shop online and get ready made meals that help me to adjust.
Basically I have died and gone to heaven, he's nice, really really nice, and he's familiar with me as if we've been dating for three years, not three days.
But the perfect afternoon is shot to shit when we stand together outside Matthew's lodge, as we were 'summoned' by the priest with a prick and horns. Kenan has warned me not to say or do anything that will give Matt a chance to get his claws in, to do everything I'm told without objection, to fake being comfortable so we can get back to our own world and work on us and block him out. I mustn't be a remedial case. He warned me that Matthew has methods that will not be pleasant and it's up to me tonight to prove that I'm okay with nudity and touching, and public sex. If not, my life will be very different.
I said I'd leave, but he refused to hear it. At one point he looked at me as if I'd just staked his heart, hurt so evident that I shut up on the spot. I get it. He's into me. We'll cross the Matthew bridge if it ever happens. Now I have to prove he can't have me. I'm to be the perfect example of a wife under her husband's authority.
I'm wearing my brand new velvet cloak, hiding my nakedness underneath it. I'm sweating I'm so nervous, but I'm wearing perfume and my long hair, and Kenan says that's all the adornment my body needs to make god happy.
The door opens and the butler leers at us, “At last, come in, they're waiting for you.”
We step across the threshold, Kenan holding my hand tight, transferring his tension to me.
The butler offers us a silver platter with drinks and tablets, sneering, “Can I take your cloaks?”
Kenan shakes his head, “That will be all, Boris. Thanks.”
The butler glares at us, scouring cold eyes over me, clearly his master's favorite minion, “Very well, sir.”
Stalking back to his butler haven, Kenan hands me the tray, “Take the pink tablet, I take the blue. It'll help you relax.” Then he stoops to whisper in my ear, “Don't fuck this up.”
I'm so apprehensive that I feel like I'm going to throw up, but take the pink tablet with the cocktail provided.
He takes his, then leaves the tray on the table at the door, sliding my cloak off my shoulders, “Be proud of your body, this isn't to shame you, it's to celebrate you.”
I swallow thickly, devouring the rest of my cocktail in fast gulps, hoping I'll pass out so I can be excused and go home.
Draping my cloak over the rack, he unhooks his own, chucking it with mine, and slides a warm arm around my middle to walk me toward the salon.
I have shoes on, that's better than nothing, right?
Entering the wide arch into the den of debauchery, I'm shocked into a standstill. Astonished, I take in Matthew sitting back on a big puffy chair, some chick giving him head while someone bones her from behind. There are couples littered around the room, all in compromising positions, like a house-party orgy.
Blinking rapidly, I count eight people, with us making it ten. What the hell is this? How is this remedial therapy?
Matt spies us, shouting over the lecherous music, “Ah, here she is! Folks, this is Candace Caine, Kenan's partner, Candy this is everyone. Come sit next to me, sugar.”
Kenan's hand in my waist tightens to a hurt before he releases me, planting his hand in my lower back and giving me a push in Matthew's direction.
&nbs
p; I don't dare show doubt. I have to convince this bastard that he doesn't intimidate me. Faking it to the nth degree I stroll up to him, taking baby steps in my ridiculously high heels. Stopping at his chair, I stare down at him when he closes his eyes, thrusting his hips up into the woman giving his penis modesty with her hair.
Blanking, I think about American Horror Story, imagining that chick who makes men hemorrhage to death when she fucks them. I wish I was a witch so I could make his eyes bleed, his nose rupture, explode his veins and detonate his heart.
Sitting down on the carpet I accept the next green cocktail shoved into my hand, slugging it back, noticing Kenan on the opposite end of the room doing the same thing, drowning his possessiveness and pride in the devil's juice, watching me with a stony stare.
My heart throbs with slow painful beats, my ears rushing with wind, lights dancing behind my eyes, my skin feeling weird and tingly. Blinking again, I look around, sound far far away, noticing Kenan crawling toward me, pulling me down, into his lap, supporting my back with his body and holding my hands, and I can't feel my fingers when he does.
I open my mouth to tell him but the noise I make is a low hiss, just air rushing out of my lungs, no sound.
Matthew hangs over me, his fingers trailing down my body, between my boobs, all the way to my genitals, the fingers sliding into me, and I close my eyes against the horror of it.
Snatches of conversation make it through the fog in my head, “Lara, you rub her clit, a woman's touch to counter mine. Mario, suck her left nipple, Kenan rub her right, stimulate this body warring with satan. That's it.” Staring up at the man with horns, his long hair cloaking me, he laughs in my face, hissing, “I will not punish your daughters when they commit whoredom, nor your spouses when they commit adultery. Hosea 4:14. God isn't judging you Candace, he knows you are only doing what is your nature. He doesn't judge you because this is why you were created at all.”
