The Long Day of Revenge

Chapter One-3

“Bite the pillow,” he ordered once more. “Bite that f*****g pillow!”

A final set of blows came against her naked backside, while she chewed at the pillow so hard she seemed to be eating it. With each strike, she tried to resist the onslaught, but with his free hand he held her down, while the belt whistled through the air, making terrible claps as it struck her body.

At last he was finished. His own arm was tired and his breathing heavy from the effort he had extended. Stepping back, he looked down at his wife and relished what he had done. She was sobbing uncontrollably now, as she massaged her behind, still prone on the bed without a stitch of clothing. Her ass and upper legs were aglow, in direct contrast with the rest of her, and he knew she would have hideous bruises for a long time to come.

In the past, he would sometimes place talcum on her or some other ointment, for what little relief these offered, but this time no such medication would be coming. She would suffer accordingly.

Even more importantly, he would now have good luck. When facing Gaditano, he needed all the hope he could get.

It was then the anger in him started to cool. He wanted to doff the robe, go down by his wife on the bed and make passionate love to her, but the inspiration was only there for a flash. Lucinda was having none of it.

“Ear s**t, you bastard!” she snaked out as she sat on the bed. The movement caused her to call out in even more discomfort as her punished posterior met with the mattress.

“After tomorrow, I never want to see you again!”

“Suit yourself then,” he responded, turning his back to her. “You can show yourself out.”

Had Manolo Garza noticed, he would have seen his wife slowly dress, putting on her clothing a piece at a time, while grimacing and moaning as the fabric brushed against her searing flesh. As the tears still flowed, she went silent except the rasping of her breath. She had nothing more to say.

Manolo was looking at his suit of lights once more, and whatever longing he felt for Lucinda was replaced by his most dominant desire of all.

“Death to Gaditano,” he mouthed beneath his breath.

It was the final insult.

“f**k you!” Lucinda shouted and stormed out the door, though she was limping noticeably as she did. “f**k you and goodbye!”

When the door slammed, Manolo turned back and observed the emptiness of the room.

“How did it ever come to this?” he asked the desolate quarters. It was meant as rhetorical. He knew the answers already. Still, with nothing better to do, he felt it wise to rehash them.

Again, the suit of lights seemed to glint with a life within itself.

“Soon,” he mumbled. “Soon.”

It was then he noticed another extraordinary thing, though in her outrage Lucinda had pointed it out to him.

He was not even hard.

“Christ,” he lectured himself. “Has Gaditano taken that, too?”

Falling back on the bed, he shut his eyes and as he did, the visions came. He was propelled back into time. It was now three years earlier in his mind and all was seemingly right with the world.

How little had he known.