Til Death Do Us Part?

From the day of her wedding, she'd always catch herself turning her wedding ring on her finger or simply just rubbing it gently between her thumb and forefinger. She loved touching it. It was like that constant friend always reminding her just how lucky she'd been to meet and fall in love with Stephan. He used to laugh when he'd see her 'at it again' as he would put it.

"You're going to wear off all the gold plating and find out what a cheap bastard you married," he'd say, looking sheepishly just like a small child caught at something they knew they weren't supposed to do. He'd pout and sometimes add, "They promised me that with normal wear and tear, that finish should fool you for at least ten years. After that, the jeweler assured me, that you wouldn't care anymore once you found out it wasn't all real gold."

And, I'd slap him and laugh and tell him how little it really mattered what it was made of to which he'd always say "Oh, in that case, let's take it back and get one of those cheap green ones instead. I can buy a couple of bottles of that Grey Reisling wine you like so much with the money we'd save!" And he would grin triumphantly proud of his great new scheme to save money. And then run, when I came after him with whatever I could lay my hands on to beat him with.

The last time they'd come to the cabin, she'd lost that ring. Whether down the bathroom drain or through one of the cracks in the ancient flooring she wasn't sure, but it was gone. They'd spent most of the night and a few hours that Sunday searching everywhere they could think of...and then searching again. She'd been devastated.

And then, almost as if the loss of the ring had been prophetic, she'd lost him. Since the funeral, she'd caught herself a number of times rubbing the base of her finger in the old way. As if the ring was still there bringing her some comfort. They say that when a person loses a limb or part of one that often they behave as though it is still there and can even experience pain as if from the missing flesh..

"Phantom Limb Syndrome or some such they call it," Ronny muttered as she lay there. Cried out, and knowing she could not sleep more now, she got up and stripping down, went to steam away her grief in the shower. As the mist filled the tiny room, she had to fight the image of Stephan's face suddenly appearing nearby, the feel of his arms closing about her in the shower, the sound of his laughter or his teasing tone.

"You're going to steam what little paint there is in this poor little cabin right off the walls and furnishings." he had said on more than one occasion. Once, he'd crept in so silently and she'd been so lost in mental wanderings that she'd never seen him reach in behind her as she leaned against the back wall and let the wonderful heat of the water wash over her back, buttocks and legs. Simultaneously he cranked the cold tap open and the hot tap closed to take all the wonderful steam away and release torrents of icy cold all over her. Ronny had screamed and whirled seeking her abuser but by the time she'd gotten out of the stall he'd already cleared the front door.

That night he'd returned, many hours later, arms full of peace offerings in the form of her favorite wine, three different colors of roses, and the largest box of assorted chocolates she'd ever seen in her life. To this day, she still chose to believe, that despite the gifts, he'd have slept alone with aching loins that night had it not been for the lingering affects of the wine. Ronny smiled softly at the memory of the love they'd made on that occasion. He'd been so afraid to upset her, Stephan had basically yielded to her preferences or demands the whole time. From removing her shoes and clothing 'just so' and gently bringing her slowly to the brink and then pushing her over the top using just his hands and those incredibly soft and knowing lips, he'd been her slave, and only when she was quite sated did she offer him any release from his own pent up passions.

Upon leaving the shower, she threw on an old t-shirt, panties and her favorite pair of worn jeans and, somewhat more under control, she made herself unpack her bag and spread her things around as though she was actually going to stay the whole three days she'd originally booked in the reservation. She was going to stay and she was going to make it thru these few days. Maybe she'd even come back again next year or so. Stephan would be pleased that she continued their traditional visits here and it would keep some of her best memories of them together alive and fresh in her mind.

Adding heavy socks, the leather boots that matched her fleece-lined leather coat, and a scarf her mother had made for her, Ronny headed out into the cold. She decided to hike the mile and a half to Bark's Roadside Tavern. There was a gas station with a convenience store attached. Subconsciously convinced she'd not be staying, Ronny had packed clothes for the trip, but had brought no food nor drink other than two bottles of their wine. Now, she knew she'd have to eat something if she was going to stick it out and she wanted something to drink other than just the wine.

Annie at the Quik Stop Mini-Market, as it was called, was thrilled for both the company and the business as things were mighty slow here in the mountains right now. The walk had been invigorating, but now, sixty two dollars and thirty nine cents later, Ronny regretted her decision not to bring the car. The big woman behind the counter had rustled up an old rucksack and helped her pack her acquisitions into it. Ronny offered her some money for the pack grateful that her return hike would be more comfortable but Annie told her the hilarious story of the backpack being left behind by a biker couple who'd been scared half out of their wits while staying at the Eagle Glen. "Came thru in the wee hours of the morning claimin' the place was haunted, filled their bike with gas and then left the pack and their purchases behind." Annie'd saved everything for them, but they'd not returned and "It's been so long I'm sure they're not coming".

Surviving the hike back in pretty good time, Ronny took a moment in the parking lot to admire the Christmas decorations the owners had put out for their guests. Besides the lights dangling along the eaves of all the cabins, there was a sleigh lit up on the roof over the center building of the inn, and thru the large plate glass along the front she could see the huge tree standing just inside the door she'd passed earlier when fetching her cabin key. It was decorated not with elegant satin balls and bows with turned wide bands of ribbon that one might expect on a tree at Macy's in New York, but with strings of popcorn alternated with cranberries and hand made paper ornaments and old fashioned glass balls and candy canes...just like hers at home had been decorated when she was a child. The lights blinked giving off a hundred fuzzy glows when they were on and viewed thru the frosty window.

There was only one other car in front of one of the cabins of the Eagle Glen Motor Inn, so she felt almost like the decor was all just for her...the prodigal daughter, returned for the holidays. Walking under the glow of the white-lit strands simulating icicles, the twenty-eight year old high-school teacher from Centreville worked her magic on the lock and re-entered her home for this Christmas. She shed her coat and boots and set about completing the process of moving in.

Stowing her groceries, Ronny started to warm milk for hot cocoa and lit two large pine-scented candles, one in each room, that she'd purchased from big Annie. The wind picked up and it began to snow just as dusk was falling. Ronny shuttered the window over the loveseat and turned on the ancient radio. The "Voice of the Simple Folk" station was playing non-stop Christmas music with a country twang thru static that she knew she'd get used to. Cocoa and a novel in hand, she curled up on the doily-decorated loveseat and settled in for a good read.

Sometime during the second of many narrow escapes for Scarlet Rose, the heroine in her book which she was reading for the umpteenth time, Ronny dosed off. She woke with a start to a thump on the ancient boards of the floor of quaint little Cabin 12. The candle was still burning and was the only light in the living area except for the electric clock on the stove across the room.

2:31 a.m. The thump turned out to be nothing more than her novel hitting the floor when it fell from her hand. Ronny stretched while her eyes adapted to the darkness, noticed the chill of the room and rose from the sofa. She took the mug over and rinsed the chocolaty remains from the bottom leaving it in the sink to air dry.

Amy Grant was singing I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day. Ronny went to the utility closet in the bedroom and retrieved the kerosene heater to take the chill off the cabin. She used the bathroom and then set the heater up in the living room beside the comfy-but-ugly orange chair. Within moments, warmth began spreading outward from the middle of the room.

Realizing she'd not eaten an actual meal since breakfast before her drive yesterday and despite the late hour, Ronny decided to make some of the beef stew she'd bought and warm up some dinner rolls. While preparing her very-late-night Christmas Eve feast, she caught herself singing along with Gene Autry's I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus. "He didn't see me creep, down the stairs to have a peep." She had to admit, she felt pretty good.

Thru the cracks between the boards of the shutters, white light was peaking in so she opened them to reveal most of a full moon rising just outside her window. Two more country carols later and she was curled up once again, this time under the comforter from the bed, on the sofa with her book. It was propped on her knees, held open by the frame of the booklight which shone down upon the pages. On her lap was a plate beneath a Campbell's Soup bowl steaming with the thick stew. Beside the plate was a small wicker basket lined with a worn dishtowel which was wrapped up and over the fresh-from-the-oven dinner rolls.

Before beginning to devour her holiday dinner, Ronny raised the wineglass in her left hand and toasted "Merry Christmas my darling, wherever you are," and she emptied it and sat it upon the floor, spoon in one hand, bowl steadied by the other, and book before her, she returned to the adventures of her heroine.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Scarlett had seen that look in the eyes of too many men before and knew what was coming. She also knew that, bound as she was at present, there was got going to be anything she could do about it. She saw from the glazed expression that he was no longer a man. He was little more than an animal...a flesh and blood extension of the raging erection he revealed as his uniform pants were discarded.

Under other circumstances, this was the time when 'The Rose' would normally reveal her thorns by drawing forth the twin stilettos normally strapped to her thighs and getting to the task of 'pruning' the monster approaching he,r depriving it of it's huge, bulging, blood engorged weapon. The stilettos however were six feet away hidden in the folds of the hooded cloak she'd worn in here. Another time, she'd have dodged the beast's first advance, curled and rolled across the stony floor and been at the cloak and armed before the beast could swing his 'club' around for another assault.

But this was here and now and there would be no curling, no rolling and dodging, for she was strapped wrist to knee sideways across the guard's sleeping cot with the leather bindings running under the bed connecting her legs to her tied hands. The guard's hands were trembling as he hoisted her skirt slowly up her thighs and over her buttocks to push it up onto her back. His blinding excitement increased as he grabbed the silk of her bloomers and shredded them along the center seam gutterally crying out in the heat of the moment and the exertion. Scarlett knew that her ass and sex were completely exposed to the man/beast in the flickering of the fire blazing in the hearth to the left of the head of the bed and realized that even were she not gagged with the filthy rag the man had used earlier to mop the sweat from his brow, she would not be talking her way out of this one. Once the beast had taken over, no man could hear anything..."the penis has no ears" her mother had told her "and when it takes over a man's thoughts the only sound he hears is the pounding of the pulse that's racing within him." Mother had been proven right many times over.

Running his dirty, rough hands over the soft flesh of her hips and down over her cheeks, the monster's pulse quickened and he readied himself for the thrust that promised release from the pounding in his head. That was when the iron grate in the ceiling gave way with a crash and both of the room's occupants swung their faces toward the noise to witness the graceful drop-to-a-crouch and then rising up to his full height of well over six foot of muscled silk and leather of their unexpected guest.

"Stephan!" Veronica muttered against her gag, her mind awhirl with wonder that he'd found her! Without taking her eyes off of the only man she'd ever loved, the girl knew her enemy was torn between feeling cheated of his prize and regretting the loss of his trousers. She too was divided in her feelings at the moment. It was a great relief to have been rescued prior to the impaling she was about to endure, but having blundered badly enough to have been in this predicament and to have needed rescue by her beloved was something she'd have rather not allowed to have happened in the first place.

Stephan made short work of the guard with the rapidly deflating 'ego' and then was there leaning up across her back and whispering in her ear. "I appreciate the offer, my love, and confess to being tempted as this is not something you and I have tried before, but I'm afraid there's not the time to take advantage of this situation properly!" The humor in his voice was purely at her expense and totally intended to add to her discomfort and she couldn't help but notice the bulge against her naked hip as he reached forward and deprived her of the gag.

"Lucky for you we've got to hurry before the General arrives with reinforcements, my dearest Stephan, or I would show you the glory of my plan for exhausting the guard prior to affecting my escape and I would leave you here, weak and whimpering in my place!" His weight shifted onto her back as he reached over with his rapier to slice thru the cords that held her in such an embarrassing a position. The bulge nestled comfortably between her buttocks and she was tempted, briefly, to forget the General and the other soldiers they would yet have to avoid.

Sensing her hesitation, he pushed himself up and off of her. As he backed away, he clutched the remaining fragments of her undergarment and ripped them free of her completely. "It appears that in the cleverness of your plan, your clothing has become ruined my love, but I promise you, you'll not be needing these where we're going anyway!" She could feel his smirk as she straightened and began freeing her legs. The shift in position caused her skirt to fall back down over her skin shielding her from his hungry gaze and giving her enough dignity to put her once again on even footing with her lover.

"I don't need silk or cotton to make the likes of you behave or misbehave at my choosing. And wherever we're headed next we'll be going by horseback. You know I can ride dressed or not equally well." As Veronica turned to grab up her cloak and retrieve her daggers, Stephan swooped in between her and her weapons. He drew her up and into his arms and kissed her fiercely...not with lust, for he was never that far from the self control that she'd admired so many times, but with love and concern. She could feel how much he'd been worried for her when she'd been unable to keep their rendezvous just south of the General's stronghold! And she loved him all the more for that worry.

Their love raged in that kiss with hands moving and clutching and tongues thrashing...until they heard the sound of boot and steel upon the stone steps to the dungeon! "This way," Veronica whispered as she grabbed up her belongings and headed for the wall in the far corner she knew would pivot inward if touched just the right way. "We'll use the General's own private escape!" Stephan took up his rapier from the bed, but didn't hesitate in following his beloved. He'd trusted her with his life to many times to stop now.

He dropped Veronica's torn underwear over the dead guard's head. "Sweet dreams." and he leapt after her shape disappearing into the dark tunnel beyond.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ronny woke drenched yet again in sweat and bodily secretions. The room was hot and the dreams brought on by her novel had made things even hotter! She often found herself changing the names in the story. She'd been Scarlett Rose in her dreamworld since she'd been a silly teen imagining the white charger that would someday carry her strong, sexy lover into her arms and the two of them off into the sunset. Then Stephan had come into her life and had become everyone of Scarlett's lovers, not her sexual conquests which were plenty throughout the many stories she'd read of this particular heroine, but the men she'd actually loved in return.

"It had been so real!" she thought aloud as the young teacher-turned-heroine re-oriented herself to the surroundings of the cabin. The heater was aglow in the center of the room. Her book was piled on the floor atop the wicker basket with the remains of the rolls inside. Rubbing her eyes she stood and stretched. As she raised her arms up over her head the fabric of the well-worn tee shirt was dragged across her breasts making her acutely aware of how sensitive her nipples were. This in turn brought the story and the scene from the book, altered by her dreaming, rushing back and she became aware of the blood racing thru her...the pounding in her temples drowned out "The Little Drummer Boy" coming thru static from the radio in the corner as she became tuned in to the need that burned within her.

Ronny headed beyond the blue curtain into the chill of the bedroom area which was shielded from the effects of the heater. She stripped off the soaked shirt and threw it towards the dresser. Yielding to the commands from within she laid her hands flat, fingers splayed upon her mostly flat tummy. The rose-colored nails of her longest fingers disappeared just beneath the waistband of her jeans and she just stood still for a long moment reveling in the feel of being so alive.

Slowly she drew her hands upward and, separating them, outward over and across her breasts. The nipples began to rise up to push back against the palms sliding over them. She pushed inward mashing her breast-flesh together and, covering their tips firmly, squeezed. Her head rolled backward exposing her throat as her hands continued to climb up its long milky whiteness over chin and cheek and into her hair fingers toying with her red-brown tresses.

By the time she began the return trip from head to tummy, her hands had become Stephan's. He was here and he was behind her enjoying the exploration of her body which she had so willingly given to him. It was his fingers drumming softly against her throat, tracing patterns and teasing her breasts and sliding over her ribs to join once again on either side of her navel. He hesitated only a moment before forcing the button thru its corresponding eye and pushing the zipper to its lowest point. Moving to her hips, it was Stephan's strong hands which pushed both jeans and panties over her hips and to the floor.

Ronny stepped free of the clothes and headed once more to the shower. Inside with the water warming to her like a lover, she closed her eyes and 'allowed' Stephan's hands access to her most sensitive and intimate places. He knew everywhere she needed to be touched and exactly how to touch her as he found each spot and she trembled, first with building excitement, and then finally in sobbing, wracking, release.