Forging Day (Crucible of Change Book 1) (2 page)

I moved against him, aching and sore, and still yearning for another release. “Colby, I’m not done.”

He gave a few more half-hearted thrusts and fell out of me, already growing soft. His come slowly oozed out, leaving me in a sticky pool. “Finish yourself. I’ll fuck you again when I’m ready.” And then I heard the bastard snoring.

I stroked myself, coaxing back that receding orgasm. I already hated myself, feeling his slick fluids and smelling sour sweat, but I didn’t stop until I came. The toy still filled me, achingly large, but I knew Colby would expect it to be there until he decided to remove it.

* * * *

It was still dark and I was still drunk when I woke up to Colby buried inside of me again. I tensed and groaned, my body tender and abused. “Took you long enough to wake up,” he said. He drove himself into me a few more times and pulled out. He flipped me over onto my stomach. “On your knees,” he said, pulling up on my hips.

I bit my lip and took the position, his toy still inside me. He tugged at the plug a few times, and then spanked me hard, one cheek and then the other, with his open hand. He pulled my head around and kissed me, and then bit and sucked at my neck, marking me. He forced my knees wider apart, abruptly pulling out his toy and dropping it on the bed next to me. “I think you liked that.” He mounted me from behind, taking its place. His hands were clamped onto my hips as he seared into my already sensitive nether passage. I could tell he’d used his favorite warming lube as he slid in and out like a well-oiled piston. “Tell me you like it, babe,” he demanded.

“I love when you fuck me hard,” I gasped out, even though his cock burned with every thrust, earning my tears of pain. My ass felt stretched and raw. He drove me into the mattress again and again, yelling as he came. I lay there under him, not moving, until he finally pulled out. I tried not to wince as he drove his fingers into me a few more times before he finally rolled over and went to sleep.

* * * *

I woke up with a pounding headache, burning pain where he’d played with his toy, and an aching soreness between my legs, desperate for a shower. I didn’t see my clothes, and one look at him in his filthy unmade bed in the daylight made me shudder. The toy looked even bigger in the light. I couldn’t believe I’d had it inside of me. I caught a look at myself in the mirror and wanted to cry.

Ignoring the purple bruises on my breasts and butt and throat, and the acrid smells of semen and sweat, I ran the water as hot as I could stand, chanting to myself, “You’re on the pill…you’re on the pill.” My headache didn’t get any better when I found the only towel—dingy gray and crumpled on the floor. No wonder he always wanted to sleep over at my place. What he’d claimed to be a loft turned out to be a depressingly small and dirty studio apartment.

I wished my car was parked outside. I just wanted to go home.
It’s not his fault. I told him I would let him try something new.
I was determined that this was not going to ruin my weekend.
This isn’t like him. It was just that we had too much to drink.
I ruthlessly tamped down that little voice reminding me this wasn’t the first time he pushed my boundaries, or ignored what I wanted.

I made the best of a pile of fast food napkins I found in the kitchenette—at least they were clean—so I was almost dry by the time I found my clothes. The best I could say is that they were mostly intact and all there, apart from the stains and wrinkles. My new blouse was a total loss. A button was missing and the fabric was torn.

The shower was running again, so I knew he was finally awake. He came out of the bathroom naked and erect, looking at me expectantly for a minute before finally shaking his head and turning to get dressed. I knew he wanted his morning blow job. He always held my head until I swallowed, laughingly calling it my breakfast, but my body was still sore and I was not in the mood today.

I had a hazy memory of someone walking in on us last night, and so was really glad we didn’t run into anyone else in the elevator on the way down. Why did I always drink too much when I was with Colby?

When we were in the car, he suggested that we stop for coffee. Trying not to think about how bad I looked, or the twinges I got from every bump in the road—and not wanting to start a fight—I gave him a weak smile. “Sure.”

So much for hoping I wouldn’t see anyone I knew. Officer Curtis was there, having her morning coffee. She used to work with my dad on the force; he had been her training officer for her rookie year. I gave her a quick wave and avoided eye contact, knowing she was staring at my stained blouse and the missing button. Figuring my face was already turning pink with shame, I hurried to a small table facing away from her and gingerly sat down.

Colby came back with his coffee and his favorite type of pastry, and a small orange juice for me. I was determined to pretend that everything was normal. “I’m so glad you were able to get off work. We’re going to have such a great time at the Sylvan Faire.”

“Yeah, well, about that. I’m not going. It’s not that you aren’t a decent piece of ass, Olivia, but I’m not dressing up like some fag in tights to go on your little camping trip, especially when I’d have to explain being gone to my girlfriend. It’s a pity, but consider last night one last fuck for the road.”

For a minute I couldn’t even breathe. “You have a girlfriend? You bastard!”

He just shook his head. “Oh please, Olivia. You’re the one that couldn’t wait to get my pants off at your friend’s party, or don’t you remember giving me a blow job in his laundry room? What do you expect when you act like a slut?” He got up and turned to leave. “Enjoy your walk home. You can use the exercise.”

He was right, an evil voice whispered in my head. I was a slut and I got what I deserved, but I still wanted to stab him in his black heart and make him suffer. I saw Officer Curtis watching us, and that gave me a much better idea. This time, I wouldn’t bite my tongue. Just before he reached the door, I called out, “So, Colby, did you ever get that parking ticket taken care of?”

Officer Curtis’ gimlet eyes turned to him.

“What do you care?” he said, and then noticed Officer Curtis standing there. “I don’t have any parking tickets, Officer. She’s a lying little bitch.”

“I’m pretty sure you bragged about never paying that one ticket,” I insisted.

He took a step toward me, hands clenched, and Officer Curtis stepped between us. “Stop right there! Sir, I need you to hand me your license.”

“His name is Colby Green,” I offered, and reeled off his license plate number.

Colby’s face was burning red, and a vein was throbbing in his forehead, but he made his wisdom check and handed over his license. He stood there, glaring daggers at me, while Sharon called in his information.

“My, but you’ve been a busy man, Mr. Green. You have seven unpaid parking tickets and a bench warrant out for your arrest. It looks like you’ll be coming down to the station.”

Colby looked positively homicidal.

Sharon talked quietly into her radio for a minute, and it wasn’t long before another police car pulled up. I watched, wanting to feel some sense of justice while the officer cuffed him, but all I wanted to do was cry.

Colby yelled, “I’ll get you for this, bitch!” as they led him out. I’m not sure if he was talking to Officer Curtis or me. I suppose he might have meant both.

As the officer hustled him out the door, I snarled at him, “Colby, fuck you and the horse you rode in on! Maybe your girlfriend will post bail for you.” Then I fled for the restroom.

I was using the bathroom mirror to try and repair myself when the door swung open and Officer Curtis walked in. “You’d better stay away from that young man, Olivia. I promised your dad I’d keep an eye out for you kids, and that boy is trouble.” She gestured at my torn blouse. “If there’s anything you need to report, I’m ready to listen.”

“I’m sorry Sharon...I mean Officer Curtis. There’s nothing I want to report. I’m just an idiot.”

“If he forced you to do anything you didn’t want to do, you need to tell me. Whether or not you think you made a bad decision, no means no.”

“I went with him willingly enough. I was the one that drank too much and acted like a slut. Is it illegal if he wouldn’t use a condom?”

She sighed. “Come here.” She held me in a tight hug. “Olivia, I hate to see you do this to yourself. Please be careful, or you’re going to end up getting hurt. And if he refused to use protection, you should get yourself checked.” She reluctantly let me go. “Don’t make me break my word to your dad. Do you need a ride, or can I call someone to come get you?”

“I’ll be okay, Sharon. I want to walk. I think I need some air, and I promise I’ll think about what you said.” I also needed to get out of here before I started crying and embarrassed myself even more.

Somebody Needs an Intervention

I tried to get some perspective on the short walk home, but my mind just ran in circles. I didn’t want to face my roommates after all of this, but there was nowhere else for me to go but home.

I was nearly there when one of the neighbors came out to put his trash at the curb. Behind me, he called out, “Miss! Miss!”

Oh god, he meant me. I reluctantly stopped and turned around.

“Miss, sorry, I don’t know your name. I’ve seen you around, and I know you live in the big purple house on the corner. Do you need help?” He looked vaguely familiar, tall and skinny with a shock of dark hair, but I would swear I’d never seen him before.

“Miss, please. I’m sorry. I’m doing this all wrong. I’m not trying to be creepy. This is going to sound crazy, but I’m a priest of Crom and I’m kind of new at it, and I’m supposed to offer aid to those in need. No offense, but you look like someone in need.”

Now I knew where I’d seen him before. It was at one of the Pagan open full moon gatherings.

“I’m not trying to be rude. Bob, wasn’t it?”

He nodded. “Well, sort of. My given name is Bob, but my priest name is Ingve.”

“Okay, Ingve. I’m Olivia. Here’s the thing. I’ve had a bad night and a worse morning. Unless your Crom can fix stupid and bad judgment, I don’t think you can help.”

“Not exactly... Crom teaches us about strength and honor, but He knows everyone doesn’t start that way. He calls the trials we go through in life the Forging of our Souls. Shit happens, and you survive and get stronger. You’ve heard, ‘what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger’? It’s like that.”

In spite of myself, I gave a bitter laugh. “Ingve, if what Crom says is true, I’m going to be one badass motherfucker at this rate. Or dead.” I headed off down the sidewalk, and then turned to look at him one more time. “Bob. Ingve. Thanks for caring. It means a lot today.”

I still felt like crap when the ivy-draped stone walls around Mikah and Berto’s Victorian came into view, but a lot of new things to think about were chasing around in my head. My remote to the gate was in my car, and my hands were shaking so much that it took me three tries to punch in the code and open it.

My little red hatchback and Mikah’s electric-purple van with the fancy custom flame job were both in the driveway, being loaded with camping gear. The matching trailer was hitched to the van, and it looked like the tents were already packed.

Mikah, as always, had his clipboard and checklist at hand. Berto teased him about being a Luddite, but Mikah insisted
newer doesn’t always mean better
. A breeze ruffled his hair, and he wrote a note in Grammy’s impeccable script. When he finished, he read it, commenting to thin air, “Thanks, Grammy. You’re right. I’ll remind Ted to water the plants in your room.”

“I’m home. Colby, the bastard, won’t be joining us.” I ignored the sudden quiet and trudged on upstairs to my room to get on with my own neglected packing.

From her adjoining room, I heard Kat say, “This is the year, isn’t it, my lovely? I’ll find a woman who’s funny and sexy and makes love like a goddess.”

I was pretty sure she was talking to Sappho—the Siamese—since Doctor Evil was glaring at me balefully from the top of my dresser. Only Persians manage that look of pure evil, and he was a master. I would never understand why Kat thought he would answer to “Fluffy”. Peeka, our little Jack Russell mix, was getting her beauty sleep in the middle of my queen-size bed. All my discarded outfits from last night had been put away. It had to have been Kat.

I couldn’t believe I put off my packing for that rat-bastard. I’d been such an idiot. My head was pounding, and feeling rushed and stupid wasn’t helping. I gave the closet door a good kick, at which point Kat appeared in the doorway.

“Wow…you look like hell. And what happened to your new blouse?”

“I feel like hell, and Colby happened to my new blouse.”

“Where is Colby? I thought he was going with us?” Her voice was calm but her eyes flashed fire.

“Colby can go fuck himself and the horse he rode in on. Right now, he’s on his way to jail.”

“Are you okay?” She came in the rest of the way and plopped down on my bed. “Do we need to kill him for you?”

“No, no killing. I don’t want to visit you in jail. I got drunk and he wouldn’t use a rubber but he didn’t really hurt me—not really. He got arrested because I told Officer Curtis about his parking ticket. Turns out he had quite a few. And a bench warrant. And a girlfriend!”

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.” She pulled me into a hug, stroking my hair. “Are you sure I can’t kill him?” I wish I could tell if she was serious. “He didn’t deserve you,” she murmured into my ear, and then kissed me softly on the lips.

I froze, and she pulled back. “I don’t know why I did that. Bygones?”

She’s my best friend. What else could I say? “Bygones.” But my head was spinning.

“Tell me what happened next,” she said, as she looked down and busied herself with petting the dog.

The tears I’d been holding back were rolling down my cheeks. Stupid tears. “I think he probably wants to kill me about now. The feeling is mutual. He said something rude about the Sylvan Faire, and ‘no piece of ass is worth this much trouble’, and he didn’t want to explain a camping trip to his girlfriend. That’s when I mentioned his ticket to Officer Curtis and gave her his name and license plate number. I didn’t know there was a warrant out for him. Another cop arrested him and I had to convince Sharon I wasn’t hurt before she’d let me come home. He threatened me. And then I told him to go fuck himself.”