Chapter 20 Chapter Nineteen

I slipped carefully into the fluffy embroidered quilt so that my dressing gown wouldn't curl up.There was no movement from my husband's side, and I waited.Yesterday I didn't even know what the inside of this house was like, and in an hour I'll know everything I don't know now.Is one hour enough?Really, I don't know anything, despite hearing it mentioned in casual conversation many times. The door opened, and he was still undressed; he looked as if he was going out, not into the bridal chamber.He walked over to the table where a large bottle of wine was left and poured two glasses.I was wondering if he didn't see me when he came over and sat

beside the bed. "Hey," he said, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath, "how are you feeling?" "Fine, maybe a little tired." "As you said, there was a lot going on today." He took a sip of his wine and handed me another glass, and I shook my head. "You've got to drink some," he said, "to relax you." I figured by then I had relaxed, or was about to, but I followed him.The taste of the wine was peculiar, stronger than any wine I've had before.I ate very little for dinner, and now that hours have passed, with the liquor burning in my throat, I feel slightly dizzy.I glanced over the glass at him.He was looking at the floor, as if he had other things on his mind.He put down his glass, and I could tell he was a little apprehensive.If I wasn't his first virgin, then I must be his first virgin bride.

"are you ready?" "gentlemen?" "You know what to do now, don't you?" "Yes." I couldn't help closing my eyes, my face flushed. "That's good." He moved closer and pulled the quilt off me, neatly folding it at the end of the bed.I sat in my silk nightdress, my toes peeking out at the ends of the pleats.For some reason they remind me of Biedrich, with her slender bare feet flying towards God beneath Botticelli's cheerful lines.Dante loved her too much to even think about it obscenely; of course, he was actually someone else's husband too.What did Elila say?Don't even think about it... smart women don't die from this.

He put one hand on my calf, stroking my skin through the silk, his hand was cold and damp and greasy.He stroked me like this for a while, then rolled my nightdress up with both hands, exposing my legs, almost to the top of my thighs.Now that his hand was touching the bare flesh of my calf, I swallowed, looking at his fingers instead of his face, trying not to stiffen too much.His fingers traced a line across my knees, my thighs, stopped at the hem of the rolled nightdress, and lifted it up until the forest of me was exposed, my pubic hair was literally blacker than my hair.Was Protila dyed there too?It's too late now, I thought nervously.Instinctively, I pulled my skirt down. I had always been taught to be demure, and I couldn't let go of this idea in such a short time.He retracted his hands, sat aside and looked at me.It seemed that something was wrong, something seemed to make him unhappy.But I can't tell whether it's because of me or because of him.I think of his sculptures, the smooth marble body so perfect, so young.Maybe it was my shyness and his age flaws that embarrassed him.

"Don't you change your clothes?" I asked.To my embarrassment, I sounded like a child. "No need." He said almost sullenly. Suddenly I thought of the whore and the man with his head between her thighs.I felt sick and worried about what he would do if he kissed me now.Of course there was a moment, but he didn't. Instead, he moved a little further away, sat down on the edge of the bed, and began to unbutton his tights.When the clothes were all undone, he reached into the bottom of his pants and pulled out his cock, which lay limp in the palm of his hand.I sat, frozen with terror, not knowing whether to look or look away.Of course, I've seen phalluses on statues before, and like all girls, I'm amazed at their smallness and ugliness, and genuinely puzzled at how this wrinkly, wormy thing could be turned into a weapon, hard enough to pierce a woman's vagina. vaginal?Now, even though I shouldn't be looking, I can't take my eyes away either.Why doesn't he come to bed?Irilah had said that there are several ways a man and a woman make love, but I don't recognize this one.He made a fist himself and began to stretch and caress, palms moving rhythmically back and forth on the cock.His other hand was between my legs.

I looked at it in bewilderment, he seemed to be engrossed and stopped looking at me.Instead, he seemed to be paying attention to himself, his eyes slightly closed, his lips half parted, breathing rapidly.After a while he withdrew his hands from me and joined in.He looked back at me, but his eyes were blurred; although I thought he was smiling at me, he showed his teeth, more like a grimace.I tried to smile at him too, but suddenly felt a pain, my legs twisted together, and I knew he noticed it too. He worked harder now, his cock started to swell in his fingers. "Ha, ha..." He breathed in a quick laugh, and looked down. "It's better now," he murmured, taking a deep breath.

He got up and walked towards me while holding the cock with both hands, keeping it rigid.He reached out a hand to pull something out of a nearby cupboard.It was a blue glass jar, and he fumbled to open the lid, then dipped his finger in it, and some clear liquid came out.He rubbed it on himself, dipped his hands in it, and walked over to me.I involuntarily shrank my body. "Don't move," he said sternly.I was petrified as he slid his fingers into my pubic hair, groping for the opening.The ointment was so sticky and cold it made me cry. "It won't hurt you," he said hastily, "I haven't done anything yet."

I shook my head in horror. "It's so cold," I said, "It's so cold." I tried not to cry. He laughed out loud, and I laughed, even though I was terrified. "Oh, my God! Don't laugh now, it's going to ruin all my work," he said hastily, and began to tease himself again.Laughter rolled in my throat. "You're still a virgin, aren't you?" "yes." "So I'm going to break your hymen later. It'll make it easier for me to get in, you know?" I nod.What are young women taught to do? "Virtue is a dowry more precious than money." But such advice is useless now, and does not resolve my terrible confusion at what lies ahead.

He started to put two fingers inside me.Just before he reaches in, I see his face quiver; this time he can't hide his hesitation.Then he reached in and I cried out.It hurts, a searing, tear-jerking pain, like a piece of flesh has been cut from the body.I thought of the pain of having my teeth pulled out, but I couldn't appreciate the beauty of Pipa at all. "Good girl," he muttered, "good girl. There." He pushed in again and I yelled again, but better this time because it didn't hurt as much. "Good girl," he said again.I felt like he was talking to an animal, a dog or a cat in labor.He pulled his hand away from me, and I saw blood on his fingers.I also saw his cock start to sag.

"Damn it," he said, pulling it up with both hands. "Damn it." He looked annoyed. He finally coaxed it back to life, crawled on top of me, and adjusted his position until his cock was facing my pussy, poking around and trying to penetrate.It softened as soon as it touched my skin, but he firmed it up with his fingers, trying to squeeze it in.My hymen was torn, but my vagina was neither wide nor moist enough for his cock.My mother's mistakes finally hurt me, and I couldn't stop crying.He penetrated deeper and I closed my eyes tightly like a child waiting for the danger to pass; I felt dark and a sense of shame washed over me.But he's too busy right now to notice me.

He was working vigorously, exhaling, thrusting, slightly sweating. "God, damn it. God, damn it..." Even in the pain I could feel his cock shrinking inside me.He pushed it in again with his fingers, and his breathing became more rapid, like a heavily laden horse climbing a hill.I opened my eyes and saw his face above me, his eyes were closed tightly, his expression was weird, and the muscles on his face were tense, as if they might break off at any moment.All of a sudden, he was breathing harder and screaming, and I could feel his cock and whole body go limp; he got up off me, a hot stream shot halfway between my thighs, and the other half cummed hard on the side of the bed.He was out of breath, like a man who has just been rescued from drowning. He lay down, breathing evenly, half laughing, half panting. It's over, I'm impaled.Irilah was right, I didn't die from it, but I didn't feel mortal.After a while, he got up and walked around the room.I thought he was leaving at first, but he just walked over to the table where there was a basin of water and a cloth.Standing sideways to me, he wiped himself off, then tucked his cock back under his clothes, seemingly oblivious to my existence.He sighed deeply, as if to put all the memories behind him; he turned around, his face as calm as ever, showing a happy expression. He must have been taken aback when he saw me; I knew I was still sobbing.It was so painful inside that I couldn't bring my legs together, so I had to pull down my nightgown to cover myself, and shuffled my body, leaning against the covers.I saw a pink stain of blood on the white sheet beneath me, like my shame. He looked at me, poured two more glasses of wine, raised one, and drank it down; then walked to the bed and handed me the other glass. I shook my head, not daring to look up at him. "Drink it," he said. "It will help you. Drink it." His voice was firm, though not vicious, beyond doubt. I took a big gulp, but the liquid choked me to tears, and I coughed violently.When I regained my breath, he said, "Take another sip." Following his orders, I shook my hands so badly that I splashed some wine on the bed sheet, which was again scarlet.But this time I finally drank it, like a warm stream poured down my throat and into my stomach.He stood aside and watched me carefully, took the wine glass from my hand and put it on the table by the bed.I lay down and lay down on the pillow.He looked down at me, then sat up on the bed.I think I must have shrunk my body. "Are you all right?" he said after a while. I nod. "Okay, then stop crying. I didn't hurt you that badly, did I?" I shook my head, forced my sobs back, and swallowed it back.I felt able to stop crying completely and asked, "Am... am I pregnant now?" "God! Let's hope so." He laughed, "because I can't imagine the two of us wanting to do it again." He must have seen the blood on my body because he stopped laughing and looked closer with me. "Alexandra?" But I still don't want to look him in the eye. "Alexandra," he said, more calmly this time.That's when I realized something was wrong, even worse than what had just happened to the two of us. "I...are you saying you don't know?" "Know what?" I began to sob again, choked up, almost incoherently, out of fear. "I thought you knew, I thought you knew everything." He raised his head, "Didn't he tell you?" "Who didn't tell me? I don't know what you're talking about." I said desperately. "Ah!" Now he was angry, and the sudden anger scared me. "Didn't I please you?" I said softly. "Oh, Alexandra." He sighed, leaning against the sheets, and took my hand.But I'm shaking now and pulling my hand back, and he doesn't try again. We sat in silence, bewildered and hopeless.Then he said hastily but more firmly: "Listen, you You have to listen to me.are you listening " Suddenly, it seemed like the problem had gotten serious.Shaking uncontrollably, I nodded. "You are a wonderful woman with a heart of gold and a soft young body. If I desire the soft body of a young woman, I must desire you!" He paused and said, "But I don't .” He sighed and said: "Chapter Fourteen, 'This clearing is covered with dry and thick sand... I saw groups of naked ghosts, all crying miserably. Here they are suffering another kind of torture...The few who suffer in bed are least...the ones who walk in circles are the most.' "'Above this entire piece of sand, there is a large expanse of fire rain falling slowly... Those poor palms are waving endlessly, sometimes slapping here, sometimes slapping there, desperately slapping them off their bodies. Newly fallen flaming sparks.'” As he read it, I thought of illustrations of men tortured beyond human form, their bodies scarred by endless roasting. "I like Dante more than I like Savonarola," he said, "but our monks express more clearly, 'It is for their own good that sodomites will rot in hell, because they perfidiously destroy Nature itself.'" He paused, and said, "Now do you understand?" I choked up and nodded.It’s all said and done, how can I still not understand?Of course I've heard the stories, who hasn't?These crude stories and cruel jokes.It is considered the most shameless crime of men, even worse than incest, and must never be mentioned in the presence of children, as it would tarnish the purity of the family and the honor of the holy city.My husband is gay, a man who rejects women and lusts after the devil in men. But if this is true, it seems too meaningless.Why did he do what he did just now?I could see his disgust clearly on his face, but why did he force himself to do this? "It's hard for me to understand," I said, "if you're like that, why would you..." "Why should I marry you?" "yes." "Oh, Alexandra, use your sharp young mind. It's different. You've heard those poisons he sprayed from the pulpit. I wonder how you didn't notice the snitch rooms in the church Well. In the past you could only see the names of a few people there, and the night police knew them all well, but even then, for some money, they could be forgiven and written off. In this way, we saved the city ourselves. Cities. A country full of unmarried young people who have found a way to satisfy their desires without inundating nurseries with outcasts. In any case, Florence is the new Athens of the West ? "But that's not the case now. Soon, sodomites will be burned to death on earth before falling into the flames of hell. Young people can hide their faces, but old people, no matter what their status or wealth, will be named and humiliated. Savonarola follows San Bernardino's mantle, 'Whoever is single and rich has sin in him.'” "So you need a wife to cover you?" I said quietly. "Like you need a husband to set you free. Seems like a fair deal, he told me..." "Him?" My heart sank at the word. He stared at me: "Yes, he. You don't know who he is yet, do you?" Of course I know. In our fair city, things like this are family affairs. Tommaso, my handsome, stupid brother.But the stupider one is actually me.Tommaso, the one who likes to strut around in brocade at night, the one who always makes love and comes home with the thrill of conquest.There were many times when, on a little reflection, I could see that his flirting was really flattering rather than teasing.I was really blind.A man talks about penetration and taverns, and has so much contempt for women that the word "slut" comes out of his throat. Tommaso, my handsome, flattering brother.He has no shortage of nice clothes and even got a special silver belt from his sister's wedding.I think of that morning when he looked at me in the mirror with an uneasy look on his face, but wouldn't tell me why. "No!" I said, "he didn't tell me." "But he……" "I think you may have underestimated how much he hates me." He sighed, rubbed his face with his hands, and said, "It's more like fear. I think he's afraid of your cleverness." "Sad thing," I said, my voice full of spite. Of course, when I knew the truth, everything became more understandable: when he danced with me, he was a stranger, but he knew my clumsiness and Greek as well as the family; Tommaso saw me sleeping The blood stain on the robe was ecstatic, and he sold his sister and saved his lover.That day in the church, Savonarola's condemnation made him bow his head, and I happened to meet Cristoforo's staring eyes; it turned out that he was not looking at me, never, that subtle admiration The smile is for my brother.My stupid, handsome, flattering, vain, vulgar and wicked brother! I started crying again. Instead of trying to persuade me, he sat by, looked at me pityingly, and after a while held out his hand, which I let cover mine this time. "I'm sorry, but that wasn't the case." "You should never believe he told me," I sobbed. "What did he lie to you?" "He just said it was good for both of us. Said you wanted independence and freedom more than you wanted a husband and you would give anything for it." "He's right," I said softly, "but not at all costs." We sat quietly, and outside the window, there was a scream in the night, a group of men crossed the street, and suddenly there was a scream.It reminds me of that young man lying in a pool of blood in the aisle of the baptistery.Florence is in such a mess that it will never be safe. "As guilty as I am, you should know I'm not a bad man, Alexandra," he said after a while. "In God's eyes? Are you not afraid of the hot sand and the rain of fire?" "As we said, in hell, at least we have a happy memory," he said. "There are more like us than you'll be surprised. The greatest civilizations of antiquity were in men's asses found immortality." I cringed in horror. "Forgive my rudeness, Alexandra, because we're going to live together, and it's always good for you to know me a little better now." He stood up and filled his own glass with wine.I watched him move around the room.His timeless handsomeness and learned elegance now seem almost a tease.Why didn't I notice it before?Am I so lost in my own world that I can't make out what's around me? "As for Judgment Day," he went on, "I'll take my chances, so to speak. On the same parched sands there are blasphemers and usurers, and the cruelest punishments are against them. I Thought heaven wouldn't open for me if I didn't have this particular penchant for boys. At least it would make me feel better to share the fire with fellow sinners. And I'm still in the church, trust me, It's not that the army of pedophiles keeps getting left behind, and I'm sure you'll see a lot of church leaders in that." "No!" He smiled. "To those of the world, Alexandra, you are a lovely naivete." But I don't think it will take long for that to pass.I looked at him, and now that there was no disgust on his face and he was back to his old humor and affability, I couldn't help liking him a little more. "But at least you can't say it's because your wife refuses to have sex that caused you," I quickly shot back.He was amused by me, "Dante mentioned a pedophile in chapter sixteen, what did he seem to say? I forgot his name." "Of course, Luka Rostic, a man with no morals. People say he's more of a businessman than a scholar." He smiled and said, "Tomaso said to help me find a wife who is as proficient in "Divine Comedy" as I am." I lowered my eyes. "Sorry," he said, "his name made you feel bad." "I will live a good life." I said quietly, but tears rolled in my eyes. "I hope so, and I cannot bear to let such a clever man die in depression." "Stop putting on this perfect smokescreen all the time." He laughed and said, "Here you go again! I like your wit more than your self-pity. You're an extraordinary woman, you know that?" I looked at my husband and wondered what he was giving me. What ecstasy soup was poured, the compliment warmed my spirit as well as my body. "So... maybe we should plan for the future. Like I said, now this house is yours, it has a library, it has art, and you can use it as you like, except for what I'm researching. It's a transaction part." "how about you?" "I won't bother you very often, maybe we'll have to go to some public event together, if the country still has enough independence to hold something like this. Otherwise, I'll be out most of the time. It's You need to know now." He paused and said, "Let's just say that he will come here often, and he won't just stay for a while and leave." "You're very diplomatic," I said. He shrugged. "A man must treat his slaves like a tyrant and his children like a king..." "Treating his wife like a politician," I interjected. "I'm not sure that's what Aristotle really meant." He smiled and said: "Indeed! As for the rest, well, that's your business, you choose, don't let him ruin your life, Alexandra. If you know the bedroom in our holy city You'll be horrified by what's going on here. There's been marriages like this before, but you don't want to be like everyone else. If I give you my all and have a bunch of kids with you, you'll be horrified Submerged. Just give me an heir, and I'll set you free forever." He said, "As for your own pleasure, well, that's your own business. All I ask is that you be careful." I looked down at my hands, and those words hurt more than the pain still burning inside me.Who knows when I will be pregnant?my own joy?What do I want most in life? "Will you let me paint?" He shrugged, "As I said, you can do whatever you like." I nod. "Also, I want to see the French," I said firmly, "I mean really see them, and when Charles VIII's army marches into the city, I want to be in the streets and witness the history .” He gestured and said, "Very well, go and see. There is no doubt that it will be a victorious invasion." "Then will you come with me?" "If I don't go with you, I'm afraid you're not safe." We fell silent, but his name was still everywhere. "What about Tommaso?" "You and I are husband and wife now, we can only appear in front of people together," he hesitated, "I will tell Tommaso, he will understand." I close my eyes so he won't see the joy that shimmers in them. "How? Do you have anything else to ask, my wife?" "No," I said hesitantly, "...husband." "Very well," he stood up, "shall I call your servant now?" I shook my head, he leaned over, I thought he was going to kiss my forehead, but he just dabbed my cheek with his fingers. "Good night, Alexandra." "Good night." So he left me, and presently I heard the door of the house open and close behind him.The heat between my legs cools down and I get up to wipe myself off.The pain made it a little difficult for me to move, and the fluid he had cum on my thigh had dried and hardened my skin.But fortunately, he was meticulous in making love, so that my nightgown was not stained. When I walked around, I could feel its softness. I scrubbed carefully, but didn't dare to look at my body.But after putting down the nightdress again, I stroked my body with my hands, feeling my skin through the silk.My fingers ran over my breasts and ass, and landed on my pussy.What if he really tore me open here, leaving a wound that couldn't heal?Both my mom and aunt were torn from having babies who were too big, could I be the same? I hesitated, then moved my fingers a little and spread them apart, finding that the middle finger slipped easily into my vagina.My fingertips touched a small lump of flesh as I went in, and I felt a shudder.My breathing became rapid, I gently pulled my finger back, and touched it again.I can hardly tell if the feeling is pain or pleasure, but it leaves me breathless and shaking.Is this how his cock hurts me, are my nerve endings exposed at the opening of my vagina? Who can I ask?Who can I tell what happened between us?I quickly withdrew my hand back, a blush of shame appeared on my face.But curiosity overcame the pain, and this time I rolled up my skirt and stuck my fingers in looking for the spot again.There was a bloodstain on the inside of my thigh, pink as the dawn sky, as if it had been painted on the skin.I groped along it to the depths of the thick pubic hair, and the gentle touch brought tears to my eyes again.I hooked my fingers inside and now my fingers touch it, causing a pain.I rubbed the protruding sensory point with my fingers, and slowly increased the strength, preparing to bear more pain.It seemed to grow bigger under my touch, and suddenly there was a comfortable feeling, which made me cry out, and my body bent slightly.I pressed my fingertips again, and this feeling came again, again and again, like ripples on the surface of the water, until finally I supported the table next to the bed, afraid that I would lose my balance, and gasped heavily, Get lost in this painful pleasure. After I was done, my legs were so weak that I had to sit up on the bed.It was strange how all the previous feelings disappeared and I was surprised to find myself crying again, but I don't know why, because I didn't feel sad anymore. It wasn't long before I started getting anxious.God, what the hell is wrong with me?I was abandoned at home in a city of chaos, with a newlywed husband disgusted to even glance at my body, yet obsessed with my brother.If it had been written into a story about weathering, I might be sacrificed now, dying a sad and shameful death, so that my husband could repent and return to God. I made my way to my dowry box, the monster that once belonged to my mother-in-law.It was carried between his house and mine, and eventually came back that afternoon (to my dad's delight, although it weighed almost as much as Protila's trousseau, it contained more books instead of silk and velvet).I took out my mother's prayer book from the box, which my mother used to teach me to read when I was hoarse.What did she say to me the day the government collapsed?She said that when I feel lonely in my husband's house, I find it easiest to talk to God; talking to God makes me a better wife and mother. I knelt by the bed and opened the book.But being articulate, I found that I didn't know how to start.What could God and I say to each other?My husband is a pedophile.If this is not what my proud self brought, it is my duty, for his sake and for my own soul, to bring him to justice.As long as I expose him, I can make him disappear along with the room full of desires.But while I may hate Tommaso, how can I destroy my own thriving family?The humiliation of that would have destroyed my dad. No, the fact is that I must keep the secret, and of course they will be punished, irredeemably; and my punishment is to swallow my breath and live.I put the prayer book back in the box.I have nothing to say to God. I cried for a while longer, but the night held up all my tears.Finding better consolation, I dug deeper into my clothes and books, and from the bottom of the trunk drew my sketches, brushes, and inks which I had laid there. And just like that, the rest of the wedding night was spent pursuing art.This time, if it is not as fast as the raindrops, it is quite smooth, which makes me feel happy.And, if you see the image my quill has drawn this time, you will surely take it as a sign that I am far from God. On the drawing in front of me, a young woman in a silk dress is lying quietly on a newlywed bed, looking at a man sitting next to her, his clothes open, holding his naked penis in his hand.The expression on his face is between pain and ecstasy, as if at that moment, God entered his body and brought him to the brink of salvation. It is the most realistic painting I will do in the future, I said to myself.