I loved him because I had no choice. That is what I believed and it had been that way as long as I could remember. I was a small and fragile child and my mother had died while giving birth to me. A fact my father never let me forget. That never stopped him from living a life of debauchery of my mother's death benefits. He would come home with strange woman from time to time that looked way to much like my mother to be a coincidence they would have sex all over the house whether I was present or not and they would be gone in less than a week. I don't know if he ended things or if they realized they were just an avatar for my dead mother's presence in his bed. Either way the result was always the same. Then he'd be back at the bars looking for his next victim coming home and slapping me around when he struck out. This was my life until I hit puberty and I noticed him leering at me with a growing hunger that was unsettling to say the least. One glance into a mirror and I could see why. I was the spitting image of my mother when they first met in junior high. It was the day of my eighteenth birthday and my father came home from the bar while I was showering. As I got out of the shower before I could even wrap myself in a towel he was there, nude as well, and he lifted me over his shoulder and carried me off to his room. On that night I lost my innocence and I fled my house determined to never see that foul man again.
It was some months later cowering in an alley gnawing on a steak bone I had snatched from a plate from a patio table of some nearby restaurant. The manager didn't care for the homeless, but I was clean, discrete, and cute so he let it slide. As I was cleaning the bone a tall and broad man came up to me, a grin cutting across his face in away that reminded me somehow of the man I had fled, but I was hungry and tired and there was also a warmth in him no one had ever shown to me before.
"Aren't you just the cutest, but you seem to have had it rough hey kid," he said to me as he tucked a tuft of his jet black hair behind his right ear, "Why don't I get you a meal you can tell me how life put you in this state."
He took me to a simple restaurant and I told him all about the physical, sexual, and mental abuse handed down to me by my own father.
"How distasteful. To think a man would strike and even violate his own child," he responded in a soothing and comforting voice. I should have known then, the misery that awaited me. He had completely omitted the mental anguish I had gone through, but even so he was my savior from the hunger, from the streets, and from that man. He invited me to stay on his couch and I didn't even hesitate. Honestly if he had asked me to stay in his bed that night I would have. However he was a total gentleman that night and for the weeks that followed taking me on proper dates and buying me luxuries I had never even seen. He would occasionally kiss my cheek and we had once shared a single passionate kiss. One day after dinner we sat on the couch and he took my hands in his his fierce green eyes locked with mine and he began to speak, "I'm told I can be harsh and short tempered and my mind sometimes loses focus, but even so I do love you will you be my girlfriend and lover?"
I was touched by his confession and I vowed in that moment if this man that saved me found value in me I would love him and stay by his side for as long as he wanted me too. I was so naive, but such is the cost of youth. It didn't take long for me to understand the folly of my thinking. The next night we went out to dinner as usual, but when we returned home he asked if I would bath with him and share his bed. I did both happily and when we finished he rolled off of me and sighed, "Well you're not very good at that are you? O well perhaps some time and you will not be a completely worthless partner. For now I'll find a way to make it work," he said in a disinterested tone placing a gentle kiss on my forehead and rolling out of the bed, "Well I'm going out for a bit. You should sleep on the couch for tonight."
It was late when he woke me, coming back home. I opened my eyes and saw Frankie, my man with his arm wrapped around a woman gripping frantically at her chest. They continued threw the living room to his bedroom. I spent the next hour and half listening to there screams of passion and delight. Eventually the screams stopped, but my tears did not. I whipped them of my cheek and breathed heavy until finally I passed out.
I woke up late the next morning Frankie was in the kitchen working on his laptop. He came in to sit on the couch as soon as he saw I was awake, "Here watch this. I got some pretty good angles it should give you a start at least and don't be mad about it. I did this for you. I love you, but you're a lousy lover so I got you precious educational material. Once you can satisfy me it will stop. Unless you don't want this?" He inquired, and my legs tensed ready to rise from the couch and take me away from this place and this new type of pain, "I mean I'll happily take you were ever you want to go. I just want you to be happy. Back on the streets, back to your dad, or to a brothel, whatever you want if you're not happy here."
"No, thanks for your consideration and constant understanding. You're, um, you're the best," I choked out as I realized I would never be happy. I wondered if anybody ever truly was, as I stared at Frankie. This quickly became our norm. He would bring home random girls and the next morning he'd make me study the videos. On nights when he struck out he'd come home drunk and let me practice. He was never satisfied and would offer an ever harsher critique.
One night after dinner he was preparing to head out to the club and was looking at himself in the mirror admiring his sharp facial features and his toned muscles. Then he glanced over his shoulder and smiled at me, "You know you are truly lovely, if only you weren't so useless in every other way. Anyways you've been trying really hard lately so I was thinking we should get married. I'll pick your bridesmaids and take care of everything. I mean you don't know anybody anyways right?"
I knew it was a rhetorical question so I simply nodded to consent to the wedding. Even then I reminded myself I loved this man who had saved me from dying on the street or being forced to return to my father. A lie I had told myself countless times before and a lie I would continue to tell myself in the years to come.
As promised he took care of every minor detail on his own. He got cake I was allergic too, telling me I probably shouldn't eat it anyway I needed to trim down. Then he chose a gowned that made look like a hooker, and he insisted he just wanted everyone to see how beautiful I was. Then he chose my bridesmaids all of them were gorgeous, but kind of trashy. In this manner our wedding was quickly decided. It was far from the dream event I had envisioned time and again huddled in the dark of my room as a little child, but I took solace in the fact that at least it cemented my freedom from my father.
The wedding took place and we left for our honeymoon on either side of my husband sat One of the bridesmaids I sat on the other seat of the limo flanked by two more trashy bimbos and on the floor board one more girl sat on her knees "demonstrating for my benefit the proper way to give head." I meanwhile tried not to cry in front of Frankie's harem. That was the beginning of the worst week of my life. I was forced to watch as Frankie would fuck some combination of these five woman for hours everyday as they drank to excess and popped pills like they were tic tacs. Then at night he would require I fed them all and on rare occasions he would make me join in only to yell at me in disgust and send me from the room. On one night toward the end of the week two of the girls ravished me with strap-ons while Frankie was occupied in another room. They said it was a waste for such a normal and inexperienced troll to be the one to stay by Frankie's side. They tormented me for hours until I passed out. When I woke Frankie was there, I thought to check on me, but it turned out it was to scold me for not showing to that days sex session.
"It's like you don't even want to learn. So what now that we are married you think it should always be the responsibility of other women to satisfy me? Then what am I even keeping you around for? Fuck and I thought you loved me," I explained what had happened and he said, "Well they're not wrong you can't satisfy me and it is on fair to the girls I bring home, but lucky for you I love that dumb face of yours and that silly broken spirit."
I cried and as I wept Frankie's eyes grew cold and his face hardened, "For fucks sake this is our honeymoon. If you're going to ruin the mode stay in here. I'll take the girls out tonight and video tape the session like in the old days. Tomorrow though you are going to show the girls what you learned. Hopefully this time it's something. Honestly this gets so disappointing."
I stayed in my room til the sun was setting the next night. The girls were all obviously strung out already and Frankie was drunk. I climbed on top of him and before we even began one of the girls slid in front of me and pushed me back with her bare ass taking my place as my husbands partner.
"We've already watched you all week there is nothing more to see. Leave making your man feel good to us," she said not even looking back at me.
Frankie chuckled, "She's not wrong babe. Maybe I was wrong to force this on you. Just be a good girl. I still love you. Just watch for now don't push yourself," he sounded like he was being considerate but the sarcasm and disdain were heavy in his words. That was how my honeymoon came to an end and the stage for my life was set. He no longer pretended to be training me. Instead he said he was tending to the needs I couldn't. Otherwise our life went on in pretty much the same as it had before we were married.