Chapter 3

Saturday passed in a whirlwind of activity for Rhonda. The wedding rehearsal was scheduled for four-thirty in the afternoon; it was to be followed by a dinner for the bridesmaids and ushers. Rhonda felt awkward when she met Rick at the church that afternoon; she had planned to apologize to him, to hold him and to have him hold her. Yet, the second she saw him, an unwanted thought boiled up in her mind: He's going to hurt me tomorrow night ... I just know it!

Rick, however, surprised her by apologizing for his short behavior the night before. He seemed much more relaxed and at ease today. Abruptly, Rhonda felt all of her doubts dissipating. He was to be her husband; he would protect her. He would never knowingly hurt her.

And so the rehearsal passed, and Rhonda was glowingly happy as she sat holding hands with him during the rehearsal dinner, listening to the gossip and talk of the other couples. When he kissed her goodnight at the front, it was almost midnight. She responded warmly to him. "This will be the last time," Rhonda said softly, her voice full of love.

"What last time?"

"The last time you'll have to say goodnight like this....Tomorrow night you can whisper it before we go to sleep." She knew that her face was aflame at the boldness of it.

Then she was inside the house, and the spell was lifted immediately. Her mother's sister, Aunt Margaret was talking loudly in the living room. "I still say Rhonda should have had a surgeon inject a local anaesthesia and then cut her hymen. And maybe he could prescribe some sort of suppository she could insert each time before, which would deaden the pain. Why should she suffer needlessly?"

Her mother's voice came whining through. "Oh, I tried to talk to her-to explain the disgusting thing that is going to happen to her ... but she just sat there with that look on her face that said, 'maybe it will be different with me, Mother'. I don't know what else to say to her; I don't want my only daughter to be degraded by some ... some...." Her emotions obviously were getting the better of her.

There was a short pause before Aunt Margaret said, "Did you ever think ... that Rhonda might not still be a virgin?"

"Margaret! What a horrible thing to say!"

"Well?"

"Of course she is. I'm positive she hasn't cheapened herself that way."

There was another pause and then Margaret said, musingly, "Yes ... I suppose you're right. She couldn't hide that from you. She would have been in pain for days when it happened. You would have known."

Rhonda could listen no more. Why, oh why did everyone have to conspire to ruin the most beautiful moment of her life, she thought. Why? Her mother and Aunt Margaret quibbling over her virginity-discussing it as though she were some animal to be trained and doctored. Wasn't this something between her and Rick? Was it anyone else's business? She fought the impulse to run in and shout at them, fought another impluse to run up the stairs. Instead, she forced herself to tiptoe quietly up the stairs to her bedroom. There, hanging on the closet door like some ghostly figure mocking her, was her bridal veil and gown. She reached out one trembling hand to the nylon mesh. She shuddered at the feel of it. Maybe, she thought suddenly, I should call the whole thing off while there's still time....But, she knew that it was already too late.

When she heard Aunt Margaret and her mother calling to her a half hour later, she pretended she was asleep. Her door opened and the two women whispered in the darkness that she must have come in earlier when they were in the kitchen and not wanted to disturb them.

Rhonda felt someone standing next to the bed. Then Annt Margaret's voice said softly, "Look at her ... the poor child. Sleeping so innocently. For the last time."

Her mother's sniffle was the only answer.

That night was spent with Rhonda's body as rigid as a railroad tie. She tried to sleep but found it impossible. When she glanced at the clock it was three o'clock and she thought; only twelve more hours....

When dawn finally came, Rhonda was slumped dejectedly in a chair in front of the window, and was thinking that she still had nine hours in which to extricate herself from the trap of marriage. Sounds began in the kitchen a short time later as her mother and aunt began the day's preparations.

Breakfast, unwanted and tasteless, followed a shower, then the hairdresser arrived to do her hair. Rhonda woodenly answered everyone's questions and made light conversation. And during it all, she was thinking: still three hours to call it off.

Then with a flourish, the dressmaker arrived to assist with the gown and she was followed immediately by two bridesmaids.

And, abruptly, all of the sands had run out. It was time! Rhonda had no cognizance of being taken to the church; in many respects it was like a condemned man spending his last hours before the long walk.

She heard organ music. She was walking-because someone had said to and had nudged her. She saw a sea of smiling faces. She saw Rick's face, strained and smiling at her from the altar. She saw the bridesmaids in front of her.

A face? The minister...."Do you accept this man...."

Her nod and voice from a million miles off, "I do...."

"Do you accept this woman...."

And Rick's voice-hoarse-answering....

"I now pronounce you...." The strident roar of the organ, the brillant blindness of the sunshine outside the chapel ... the flash of the photographer's camera. The sting of thrown rice ... the shouted congratulations and, from a couple of the junior high school kids who had been invited, "You'll be sorr-eee." The reception line-a never-ending line of faces and kisses and mouths uttering words she couldn't comprehend. The cutting of the cake. Everything a blur. Then the removal of the gown and into the tweed traveling suit. A cream colored corsage being pinned to her coat....

Then Rick again ... meeting her in the hallway of the second floor outside her bedroom ... holding her. A shout as the reception guests saw them. A mad dash down the front steps to Rick's car ... the car door slamming....People shouting gleefully. The sound of Rick's car starting, the screech of tires as he attempted to elude the jokers who followed with their horns honking loudly.

And the last-the very last-view of her house. Mother, and Aunt Margaret ... like two dark accusing angels of doom, standing there silently, not waving ... merely watching the car as it drove off ... an expression of grief on her mother's face....

She began weeping. Rick patted her hand. "C-Kay?" he asked solicitously.

"Yes," she lied, through a muffled handkerchief, "I'm just happy."

"This time tomorrow, we'll be in Ireland. And tomorrow night we'll be at the castle."

So filled with dread was Rhonda at the thought of this first night stretching in front of her that she didn't respond to his excitement.

"Just think," he continued eagerly. "Two more weeks of doing nothing but lying in the sun and swimming all day ... and making love all night."

"Yes, darling. It will be lots of fun," she said, not believing her own statement. The fright was beginning to boil up inside her again.

Rhonda became more silent-more tense-with each passing mile as they drove closer to the airport hotel where they would stay the night prior to boarding the plane early tomorrow morning. She tried to purge her mother's voice from her mind, but it came creeping back like a fog. "Dear God," she prayed silently, "don't let me be like mother and Aunt Margaret. Don't make it repulsive or painful...." The dread, however, continued to rise in her. She was close to tears when they checked into the hotel. The manager almost seemed to smirk at her when he led the way to their suit. Inside, there was a bottle of champagne on ice-courtesy of the house-and inscribed, "To the honeymooners".

Almost frantic with fear by now, Rhonda pressed the manager to join them for a toast as she didn't want to be left alone with Rick. The manager merely smiled and gave his regrets. He expressed that the two 'love-birds' should be alone together and wished them a good night.

The door closed and the nightmare began. Rick tried to take her in his arms, but she reflexly put both hands against his chest and pushed him back. "What's wrong?" he asked genuinely perplexed.

"Nothing," she lied. "Just a splitting headache ... I'll take an aspirin and be all right in a bit

... maybe you should take a shower?"

He looked concerned. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No, it'll go away. Take a shower...."

Rick grinned in mistaken understanding. "Ah ... I bet I know. You want to get rid of me while you change your clothes ... and get into something more ... ah ... comfortable." He wriggled his eyebrows.

Rhonda anxiously seized the remark. "Yes! Yes, darling!"

"All right. One shower coming up." Rick laughed and took off his coat. He opened his suitcase and brought out a new pair of blue silk pajamas. He held them up for inspection. "Pretty sexy, eh? Just wait until you see them on me." He kissed her passionately and disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later she heard the water running and his voice being raised in song.

Quickly, she removed her clothes and slipped into the white peignoir purchased for the honeymoon. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and she blushed in shame. When she had tried on the negligee in the store she had been wearing panties under it. Now, however, it clearly showed the small dark triangle of her pubic hair and the brown nipples of her breasts. She opened the bed, climbed in, and pulled the covers up around her throat. Two minutes later Rick, somewhat flustered, came out of the bathroom. The reason for his chagrin was plainly evident; the front of his pa jama bottom bulged as though he had a huge banana protruding from between his legs.

"It must have been something they put in the soap," he said, making a feeble joke.

Rhonda did not laugh; she cringed deeper into the bed. Although she had felt his penis through his trousers before and although he had touched her with it before, never-not in her wildest imaginations-had she conceived it was as big as it seemed to be. Through the pajamas it appeared to be at least twice as large as Bruce's had been.

Now she knew what her mother had been trying to say; no woman's body could safely take that huge bulging staff. It would split her apart like a Parker House roll. She whimpered when Rick came alongside the bed. That ... that thing was only inches away from her head as he turned out the light. Then she felt the covers being pulled back and Rick's body and his huge male organ of destruction pressing against her side. Without preliminaries, he kissed her-possessively at first and then with rapidly increasing passion. She responded only perfunctorily when he tried to shove his tongue down her throat.

Rick drew back from her. He leaned over on one elbow, "What's wrong, darling?" he asked.

"Nothing," the word was said so softly it was almost inaudible as she lay there transfixed with fright.

"Are you nervous?"

She leapt at the remark as though it were a life preserver. Perhaps if she admitted it, he would leave her alone tonight. So she said. "Yes ... terribly so."

Rick laughed. "Well, then. We'll just have to take care of that nervousness. I've got just the thing to remove nervous strain. Leave everything to me." He kissed her neck and his hot wet tongue traced a design down to the top of her gown. She felt his hands pull down the straps and then he began caressing her bare breasts. She felt nothing except the fear pounding within her heart. He bent forward and glued his lips to the left breast, and his teeth playfully teased and bit the nipple. Soon his hands moved like conquerors across her taut belly and sought the hem of her gown. He pulled it up so her loins were naked and open to him. Slowly, using his middle finger, he began moving it between her thighs and up and down across the length of her vagina lips. There was none of the excitement she had felt that night at the beach ... none of the fire and none of the beauty. Only numbness-a deadening absence of sensation. Rhonda quivered in fright, and Rick took this motion to mean that she was shivering in excitement. "Like that," he asked, not waiting for an answer. He tweaked her clitoris. She felt nothing, could feel nothing. It was as though her body now was elsewhere. Her husband was fondling a lifeless statue.

Then Rick suddenly rose up in bed. She felt him struggling with his pajamas. He removed his top ... then kicked the bottoms out of bed where they lay in a heap on the floor. When he stretched out full length beside her, she could feel the hair on his chest against her bare shoulder, his hairy legs against her smooth ones, and ... and that thing! ... which seemed hotter and larger than ever.

She was absolutely cold with terror when Rick spread her legs apart gently. Then he swung his legs over her thigh and put his knee between her legs. She lay there, close to panic, trembling with a fear that Rick mistakenly accepted as desire. She felt him fumbling for a moment, then the head of his hardened penis was pressing against the still dry lips of her vagina. When he touched her with it, it was as if someone had struck a smoldering soldering iron against her bare unprotected skin.

"Don't hurt me, Rick ... please. Oh, God ... don't hurt me," she whimpered, trying to press herelf into the mattress.

Rick was breathing heavily and he did not answer. He still reacted in a gentle fashion, however. He slowly pushed forward, spreading the sparse young pubic hair and the head of his cock slipped into the virginal portals of her vagina. She winced, "You're hurting me."

He moved the head of his prick in and out between the red full lips of her vagina; he did not seek to penetrate, merely lubricate it. In spite of her fear, Rhonda could feel a moistness beginning down there as her body responded automatically. Perhaps, she thought, it will be all right after all.

Then, he began to really hurt her when he tried to push it in even further between her thighs. "No ... Rick ... stop!" Rick stopped. And she repeated, "You're hurting me."

It was then he said it. She heard it and interpreted it as a confirmation of everything her mother had tried to warn her about. He said, "It always hurts a little the first couple of times."

"No, then. I don't want to do it!" she whimpered.

"Yes, you do," he insisted, and pressed his now heavily throbbing cock in a bit further.

"No ... please." She felt as though he were already ripping her apart and he had only the head in-what would happen when he tried to insert the other seven inches?

Suddenly, Rick made one long hard, thrusting motion. "Gaaaaaghhh," she screamed. His hips fell heavily between her wide-spread thighs, and she was pinned like a helpless butterfly to the bed.

"No ... God! No," she cried aloud. "Help me...." The words simply goaded Rick on to a maniacal frenzy. He shoved his pelvis hard into her squirming defenseless crotch ... seeking to reach that soft yielding belly that had been denied to him for over a year. She was squeeling like a stuck pig as his cock reached the hymen and ripped through it like tissue paper touched with a glowing red poker. She splayed her legs out widely in the air in an effort to spread her cunt even wider-seeking to ease the agony ... but it was hopeless. The cruel impalement was killing her, and he still did not have it all the way in. Down, down, down, ever deeper his rampaging cock ripped until she could feel the agonizing head of it finally coming to rest buried all the way to what seemed to be her navel. His rigid fleshy column was there only a second; he didn't even give her a chance to adjust to it. His motion-back and forth-became a wild demented thing. He pulled out, slammed it in-seemingly trying to drive it ever deeper into her tortured pain-filled belly. Finally, and it seemed an eternity, although it couldn't have been more than a minute or two later, she felt his prick begin to throb as the hot eager cum spurted from him and flooded her virginal womb.

All, in all, he came three more times before he finally pulled his penis from her vagina, before he stopped violating her body and went to sleep. Each time he had grunted and groaned out his climax and she had felt it spurting inside her, and it was more painful, more disgusting than the first. Rhonda wept silently. Her vagina was a throbbing nest of agony, and her silent desperate screams echoed through her mind, and she saw her mother's tightly pressed lips saying, "See ... I tried to tell you."

At dawn the phone rang. Rhonda, who had not been asleep, wearily reached over to the bed table and answered to be told by the Hotel Manager that it was five-thirty. Rhonda thanked him without feeling. Rick stirred and groaned beside her. "Whasszit?" he mumbled.

"Five-thirty," she answered. "The airport limousine leaves at seven. I'll take my shower first if you like."

Rick cocked one eye at her and made a sleepy effort to grin lewdly. "Why don't we both shower together?"

"No...." she shook her head. "No."

He shrugged. "Okay, take yours first." He rolled over and was asleep again.

Rhonda got out of bed, wincing at the painful tenderness in her abdomen. Her belly actually felt as if someone had kicked her there. She felt as if she had been cut open in the crotch. When she looked down at the sheet, she saw it was all matted over a large area with brown blood and dried semen. Wide-eyed with horror, she gazed at her new peignoir. There was blood and sperm all over it. She ran for the toilet and put her head there while she vomited.

She used almost an entire bar of soap cleaning herself, but it did no good. She still felt dirty ... degraded.

When she got out of the shower and began towelling herself, she noticed that the blood had begun to seep again from her injured womb.