Deed to Damnation

With This Ring

"Wake up!"
The words were barely a whisper and they were the first thing Ireland heard before she opened her eyes. She let out a small cry as the first pain in her head began throbbing incessantly. It only got worse when two hands began shoving her shoulders, bouncing the mattress and making her feel like her brain was on fire.
"Oh, please! Miss Ireland, wake up!"
It was Missy and she sounded desperate.
Rolling over, Ireland groaned. It wasn't just her head that hurt. It was everything. The curtains were open and the streaming sun scorched her bloodshot eyes making her hide her face from it.
"I ain't even supposed to be in here. Please, please wake up!" Missy begged. "If he catches me in here..."
Ireland sat up slowly, every muscle moaning in protest. Her clothes were in tatters and she sucked in her breath when she sat up fully. Her lower body ached as if she had been punished. She had been punished! Henry Delarue had decimated her last night with help of way too much whiskey and apparently there was still a price to be paid.
"You gotta take this right now." Missy demanded, shoving a glass of cloudy liquid at her.
"What is it?" She asked, smelling the glass.
It had a sweet odor.
"I got it from Doc Bordain real early this morning. I went and got it when I saw how you was last night."
Missy was still whispering and Ireland was glad for it. She felt like she was going to die.
"It's a tonic and I need you to take it right away." Missy insisted.
The bell on the parlor door clanged downstairs and she popped up nervously.
"Quickly!" She urged.
The girl was scared of something, Ireland thought, as she chugged the liquid. She grimaced at the biting bitterness but was grateful that it quenched her parched throat.
Grabbing the empty glass, Missy ghosted out of the room just as heavy footfalls started ascending the staircase. She just made it to the door of her room when Henry appeared at the top of the stairs.
"You're up early." He commented.
She was half in and half out of the bedchamber with the door nearly closed. The glass was in her hand, hidden on the other side. She was grasping it so tightly she thought it might shatter in her grip. If he got any closer she was sure he was going to smell the opium that was in the powder she had given to Ireland.
"Just using the outhouse." She lied. "Had a bit too much to drink last night."
He was eyeing her suspiciously. He had been outside in the area and hadn't seen her but Missy had never been good at lying, especially to him.
"So did Ms. Devereaux." He stated. "I really don't care how you're feeling when I call on you later. Your ass better be there."
"Haven't seen her. I'll be there." Was the quick response and she shut the door almost in his face.
Missy pressed her back against the door and held her breath, only exhaling when she heard his boots moving away from her. It had been near impossible to lie like that. Henry Delarue had a way of knowing things just by looking at someone. She figured it came from extensive time at poker tables all over this territory. She was relieved that he hadn't asked anymore of her but that relief was only for her. Henry had gone into his bedroom and she only hoped the powder would kick in quickly for Ireland.

Ireland had heard Henry's voice outside and quickly grabbed the comforter, wrapping herself tightly in it and silently willed him away like a child to the monster under the bed. This monster was real though and he wasn't going anywhere. She shut her eyes tight when the door opened.
"Get up." He ordered flatly. "Just because you decided to be a spectacle last night doesn't mean you're not going to work today."
She didn't move. The thudding in her temples was so horrible she couldn't bear to even think of washing the dirty glasses that always wreaked of the poison she had ingested. It made her stomach churn as did the thought of cooking food. The two together would certainly make her get sick. She couldn't feign sleep any longer or stay silent either.
"What you did to me last night..." She hissed
It was true that last evening had been a blur but she remembered that he had defiled the very last piece of her dignity and virtue. It had hurt so much until he made her lie still and he hadn't cared at all. He made sure to take his pleasure from her agony even when she screamed. He was a beast!
"You did that to yourself." He stated, pulling the covers away.
The slight breeze from the blanket held a scent that she had come to recognize when he had his way with her. It was him. A mixture of leather, vanilla tobacco and the outdoors and it was all over her, like invisible ownership papers he loved to remind her about.
"I was just acting my role since you like to play games so much." He taunted. "Maybe I should have let you have the finale you thought you could handle."
She sat up completely, the pounding in her head not quite as bad as before and absently ran her fingers through her hair.
"I was drunk!" She shouted.
Pulling the torn dress over her breasts, she glared up at him, her eyes widening. Three bloody lines were etched in his cheek, cutting through the peppered scruff. Suddenly, she remembered that she had done that and felt pretty good about it too. A tiny victory compared to what he had done but the scratches were there and would be for some time.
"Dangerously drunk at that!" He agreed, ripping the garment out of her fingers. "You got exactly what you were asking for. How did you like it?"
Remarkably, her headache had completely disappeared as well as the nausea that had been threatening since she woke. She stood up, not giving a second thought about her nudity for the first time ever. Her body felt oddly light and she realized she forgot he was talking. Whatever Missy had given her had certainly taken effect.
"I asked you a question!" He boomed.
When she looked up at him he noticed the slight change. She wasn't smiling but she had lost the look of extreme discomfort that had been on her face not two minutes ago. And the fact that she seemed so aloof was disconcerting. It made him wonder what she was up to now.
The thing was, she wasn't up to anything. All she knew was that her pain was all gone. From the throbbing in her head to the unfamiliar ache in her backend, it was gone. Even Henry's presence was less overwhelming despite his obvious anger and she began searching for her work dress in the crumpled sheets.
"Ireland!" He bellowed.
"The marks on your face say exactly how much I liked it." She answered coolly. "A little something extra for the amount of money you paid to rape me in that manner."
By the look on his face, or lack thereof, she came to a frightening conclusion. He honestly felt she deserved what he had done!
"Oh, yes." He snarled. "You did that right before you soaked my hand with that sweet pussy juice. Hardly the reaction of a damsel in distress."
She had found her dress and was putting it on hurriedly. She felt energetic, euphoric even and she found his words to be comical instead of what he intended.
"Well then, I guess I experienced it all. Haven't I?" She answered lightly, buttoning up her dress. "Now if you'll excuse me, I believe you told me I have work."
He was leaning in the doorway, blocking her path and he looked absolutely livid. His eyes were flashing and his lips were as tight as a straight razor. To further confound him, she moved right up to him, pressing her small body between him and the doorframe and paused.
"Scrambled eggs?" She sighed.
He narrowed his eyes for a moment and kissed her, his tongue probing her receptive mouth slowly. When he pulled away, she gave no reaction but a cocked eyebrow. He licked his lips.
"Yes." He answered and let her go.