Cats In the Cradle

32. Emma

We took our "role-playing" to a much more intense level after I surprised him during his shower.

After I swallowed his Light—his "cum"—he fucked me roughly up against the shower wall.

Then we ate breakfast, and he fucked me on the table, after haphazardly shoving the food and dishes aside.

Then we talked for a while on the couch. And then he was suddenly—very abruptly—done talking, and he made me get on all fours so he could fuck me from behind.

He was taking his role of Real Husband very seriously, and he was insatiable.

I was both delighted and terrified.

And deliciously sore.

We basically spent the entire day intertwined, connected either by our privates or our mouths or hands. I didn't expect him to be so passionate and hungry, but I wouldn't ever complain. He was  looking at me differently, after I used my mouth on his cock.

Like he held me in a higher regard, considered me an equal rather than a child. His hesitancy was gone, like it was never even a factor. It felt so good to be wanted, with nothing being held back between us. It was perfect and good and so right.

And it was temporary.

But we didn't talk about that so much anymore. It got brought up here and there, but one of us was quick to change the subject.

He asked me if I wanted him to sleep in bed with me at night, and I nearly cried, then enthusiastically shouted yes.

We made slow, sweet love and he filled me with his Light and he held me in his arms until we fell asleep. It got a little too warm with him wrapped around me, but I didn't move away. I didn't want him to let go.

The next few days were a blur of passionate, sometimes wonderfully painful, sometimes brutally emotional, slow fucking. And talking and laughing and kissing.

And pretending.

That weird feeling that kept creeping up on me was getting stronger, almost crippling at times. I almost gave it a name, called it what it probably was. I almost told him what was happening.

But we were pretending.

So it was better if I didn't.

One of my family members would bring us food, and they seemed more positive about our progress... but I still felt like they were hiding something. Something was still wrong, despite us fucking all over the house like wild animals in heat.

When I told Daniel that I was pretty sure something was wrong, he looked a little green.

"I still have to mark you." He whispered. "Orion told me to brand you or get my name tattooed on you somewhere. I completely forgot because... Well probably because I wanted to forget. That's fucking barbaric. How is that easier than just exchanging wedding rings?"

I nearly laughed. It wasn't meant to be easier.

"It's meant to be permanent, not easy. It's meant to prove that I forever belong to you, in a way that a ring never could," I told him.

He didn't have a reply to that for a while. He did eventually ask me which one I'd prefer, and we both agreed that the tattoo sounded less painful.
Maybe it would take longer, but it wouldn't make me feel like cattle. We agreed on a thin tattoo around my wrist, because he said that area wouldn't be as difficult as a more private, sensitive area.

The next day, when Mama came to bring food again, we asked her to tell the doctor to come by as soon as possible to tattoo me. She seemed very excited and relieved—finally—and said she'd immediately go down to the medical center to put in our request.

It felt good to see Mama happy at last. Whatever she'd been worried about was now put at ease.

But then the doctor never came.

So then she came by the next morning, and she said she'd ask again. She'd let him know that it was urgent.

That made me a bit nervous. Was it really very urgent? Was Orion still unconvinced that we were properly married?

I paced around anxiously that day, waiting for the doctor to arrive. Daniel tried his best to calm me down and distract me, but it was all I could think about. This was the last step, and then we wouldn't have to worry about this anymore. But we couldn't move past this if the doctor never showed up.

I briefly contemplated just allowing Daniel to brand me, but he refused. And I agreed it was a horrible option. The doctor would surely arrive any minute.

My stomach was hurting badly by the end of the day. I was anxious and emotional and irritable and scared. Daniel spooned me on the bed and we just lay there in silence; he knew nothing would calm my nerves until this final step was complete. Until I no longer had to worry about Orion taking me away and sharing me with the community.

And then someone knocked on the door.

I gasped and looked at Daniel excitedly, hovering closely as we both raced to the door.

Only it wasn't the doctor.

It was just a guard.

Telling us that our house arrest was over. The cameras would be turned off. We were free to roam around town, and Daniel could go back to work.

But for some reason, neither of us was as happy as we expected to be upon hearing that news.

The tears I cried were not happy tears, and I think Daniel knew that. I couldn't understand why I was crying though. Why I was so anxious and emotional.

I didn't understand until I went into the bathroom and looked down at my underwear, down at the red stain. The woman's curse that always came so irregularly, I never knew when to expect it. I was never prepared.

But I was always miserable.

Daniel was ecstatic, however. This bought us more time. There was no baby to worry about when we tried to escape soon. No baby to tie us together forever; something more permanent than a tattoo or a burn scar.

The cramps came, and they were awful. My periods were always awful.

This one was more awful than usual, though.

I didn't want to admit it, and I never would.

But I was so miserable this time.

Daniel rubbed my back and held me and even made a warm compress to help with the pain.

But it didn't help. Because I was emotional and miserable and in way more pain than usual.

Only it wasn't because of the cramps this time.