Chapter Twelve - Arrangements

She rose and moved to the couch. Her knees were sore and she felt as if she might vomit. She also wanted to relieve the burning ache between her legs, but Stein would be back shortly. She could feel Richie’s spittle between her breasts and the sour taste of him on her tongue and in the back of her throat. My God, she thought, I begged him to marry me. I begged him on my knees. And I took his filthy penis in my mouth, and I swallowed his jism. I must be sick, perverted, insane.

The labels didn’t matter. She was what she was. Possibly she had always been this way. And who, she thought, can pass judgment. Yesterday’s perversion is tomorrow’s entertainment. Does anyone have the right to decide which human act is to be considered natural and which unnatural? Once it was considered perverse to put a book written by a female on the same shelf as a book written by a male.

Every day, men slaughter each other all over the world. Is that ‘natural’. In war, bombs are dropped on innocent women and children. Does the fact that the airmen are thirty thousand feet above the burned and mutilated bodies make theirs a “natural” and therefore permissible act?

She had never consciously hurt anyone nor even wished anyone harm. But if she had, would that have been perverse? And what of the pain inflicted by Richie and Vinnie? What of Stein’s clever strategies to manipulate her? What of the humiliations she chose to endure at their hands? Were any of these worse than firebombs? Were they worse than men hacking women and children to death in churches?

She was sitting on the couch facing the fire. Stein had come in quietly and sat in his chair. They looked at each other for several minutes. Stein shook his head, “You should have killed me when you had the chance,” he said.

She smiled, “I know.”

“Perhaps the opportunity will present itself again.”

“I don’t think the outcome would be any different,” she said. She felt, in spite of Stein’s denial, that there was something between them. Not love certainly. At least not love in any conventional sense, but something nonetheless. “Mr. Stein, earlier this evening you said I’m not losing my mind, but you’ve just seen what I...”

He interrupted, “Perhaps, Mrs. Ryan, you simply need obstacles...barriers.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re like a high-jumper. Your sexual excitement is determined by leaping over your own moral convictions.”

“But to marry Richie...”

“Is a way of raising the bar.” He leaned back in the chair. “In the beginning it was no more than your desire to masturbate in view of your uncle. Then came your marriage and a long period of conforming to conventional and rather boring sex. But you found this frustrating. I’d venture to say that your orgasms in front of your uncle were more intense than any you experienced with your husband.” He waited for her to respond. When she didn’t, he continued, “To deny a sexual appetite as voracious as yours can only lead to a powerful hunger. It doesn’t go away. It gets worse.”

“That might account for Wally, Mr. Stein, but what of the horrible things I’ve done since then? And now Richie?”

“Self-debasement is an old and familiar path to sexual excitement. History is full of examples, and, for that matter, so is the Bible. Although the erotic aspects are not explicitly defined, they are clearly there in both the Old and the New Testaments.”

“But if you’re right, Mr. Stein, if I need to travel this path and I have to keep putting up higher obstacles can’t I get help? Couldn’t a psychiatrist...”

“Possibly, Mrs. Ryan, but not until you are sincerely interested in returning to the kind of life you led with your former husband. My guess is you would probably discover that habit is a worse monster than Richie.”

“Then Richie is not the last barrier? I can’t imagine a more repulsive one.”

“He could be but, from what I know of you, it’s unlikely.” He paused, looking at her intently. “Do you honestly want to see a psychiatrist?”

“No,” she answered.

“And isn’t it true that any sort of union and especially marriage between you and that ugly cretin violates not only reason but also challenges all of your moral convictions?”

“Yes,” she said, “yes, just the thought of it is abhorrent.”

“But isn’t it also true that the memories of sexual experiences with your husband and even with Wally do nothing to stimulate you?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’ve tried remembering, but it’s no good.”

“And when you think of yourself as the bride and the lawfully wedded wife of Richie, what happens?”

“I say to myself, ‘I would rather die first’, but I also find myself getting...getting...”

“Wet?” he asked.

“Yes. You saw how it was.”

“And you need that excitement, don’t you?”

“I…I...don’t know. Possibly I do.”

Stein leaned back, folded his hands over his belly, and closed his eyes. After a few moments he spoke. “Let me try to explain it in a slightly different way. You, Mrs. Ryan, seem to suffer from three somewhat common maladies that are largely psychological. You embrace guilt. You seek it out and exaggerate it. Then you look for ways to expiate it. For you, atonement takes the form of intense humiliation coupled with a rather modest amount of pain. It’s called, as you know, masochism. To some extent we all give ourselves over to it from time to time. But you, my dear, are an extreme case. Finally, you have a highly sensitive libido, one that needs constant attention.”

“But these things can be cured or at least brought under control?”

“Perhaps,” Stein said. “As we mentioned, a good psychiatrist, after several years of therapy, might effect a modest change in your behavior. However, I think your chances are better by going through it, by coming out on the other side.”

“You mean by marrying Richie, by submitting to him I’ll reach some kind of bottom and then rise up and be...be...normal?”

“Yes, but I caution you that to be ‘normal’ often means to accept external desires that are not really your own. To be normal is to conduct your life in ways that are often in conflict with your true self. It is better, I think, to strip away all that is false. It is better to question every action to make sure it is truly and honestly felt.”

“Then marrying Richie might be a cure?”

“No…no, not at all. It could be no more than a first step. Or it could destroy you. Your journey through the dark may never end.”

“I might always be as I am, always looking to raise the bar?”

“Yes, but is that so bad? Think of the alternative, the ‘cure’ as you call it.” Stein shifted his huge bulk and leaned forward. “For you, Mrs. Ryan, such a cure would be a lobotomy of your essential nature. Look at your so called ‘normal’ friends. Do you really want to be like them? You’ve been there. Do you want to go back?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “But to be the way I am...to become the wife of that...that...beast!”

“No,” Stein said, “you’re too kind. To compare Richie with the beasts is to do them a severe injustice. Even the lowly reptile is more acceptable. Richie, it has always seemed to me, most closely resembles a maggot. He is cold, entirely devoid of feeling. Blindly he drags himself through life leaving behind him a trail of slime. He not only has the sensibilities of a maggot, he has the look and feel of one. Do you agree, Mrs. Ryan?”

“Yes...yes, you’re right.” She felt a chill run through her.

“And tonight you have chosen to be the obedient bride of this human equivalent of a maggot.” He studied her through half-closed eyes. “You have made that choice, haven’t you?”

She looked away from him. “Yes...yes, I have.”

“Well, it’s settled then?”

“Yes,” she said, “it’s settled.” Yet even as she said the words, she felt certain she could not go through with it. Sometime between now and Saturday, perhaps at the last moment, she would have to refuse. She looked into the fire for a moment then back at Stein. “You said you were making arrangements.” She tucked her legs up under her and sat back in the corner of the couch. “I hope you’re not planning on...”

“But, of course,” he cut her off, “a formal wedding: a gown, a cake, a reception, even an ordained priest.”

The image of herself and Richie standing before an alter in a public church seemed both ludicrous and terrifying. “Where?” she asked.

“In my refurbished apartment, the warehouse. In fact, I’m sure Richie will insist on consummating the marriage immediately after the ceremony. He will want to do that for the edification and enjoyment of the assembled guests. Are you agreeable?”

“You mean...”

“I mean he will want to, as you say, take you from behind before the delighted eyes of the wedding guests.”

“No!” she said sharply, “I won’t agree to that.”

“But, my dear Mrs. Ryan,” Stein began.

She leaned forward, “The answer, Mr. Stein, is no.”

Stein shrugged his shoulders. “Richie will be anxious to demonstrate his manhood. He will be disappointed.”

“Then he’ll be disappointed.”

“But you did promise to be an obedient wife. Therefore you will, as they say, give yourself to your husband on your wedding night?”

The memory of Richie’s shuffling gait, his grimy fingernails digging into her, his wet lips and lopsided face made her almost retch again. She looked away from Stein. “Yes,” she said, “I will give myself to him, but not for the amusement of his guests.”

“And afterward?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, in the eyes of both God and country you will be his wife. If I’m not mistaken the marital state encourages and sanctifies a continuing sexual union.” She looked down at her hands and nervously twisted her wedding band. When he spoke again Stein’s voice had become forceful once more and demanding, “In other words, Mrs. Ryan, you will do what you promised. You will be Richie’s woman, and you will spread the cheeks of your ass for him whenever he wants to fuck you, and you will suck his cock, and you will do anything else you can to satisfy him. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“And you agree?”

“Yes.”

Stein leaned back and sighed. “Good. I don’t think it would be wise for Richie to move in with you here. Besides, as you know, he is helpful to me. Since I do not intend to share my humble dwelling with a woman, you will stay here in your own house alone during the week. If Richie behaves himself and does his chores properly, I’ll let him have you on the weekends at my place. I’m sure Richie’s real father will also want to fuck the new bride from time to time. You won’t object.”

“Vinnie? He’s gross and mean...I won’t...” she paused, “I’m sorry, Mr. Stein, no, I won’t object.”

“And just to make things interesting, perhaps we’ll have an occasional party.” She looked across at him, feeling nauseous and afraid. “Nothing as crude as a gang-fuck, but rather some interesting and imaginative entertainments. Both Vinnie and I have friends, and then there are the pets.”

Her hands were folded in her lap. She moved them down toward her crotch. Stein shook his head. “No,” he said, “none of that. None of that all week. I want you to save your orgasm. Let it build. Think of it as the first of many self-denying sacrifices you are going to make in order to please your new husband. Dwell on it constantly but save it until Saturday. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” she moved her hands up. She could feel the warm wetness between her legs.

“I believe I mentioned Stella before,” Stein continued. “She’s Richie’s mother. She and Vinnie divorced shortly after Richie was born. She’s a remarkable woman in many ways. Along with her other talents, she is a fine seamstress. She has insisted on making your wedding gown. I have some ideas about it myself. She will need your measurements.”

“The shop in the village where I have my clothes made has a form they use which duplicates my exact measurements.”

“Good. Have it delivered to my place by tomorrow afternoon. You are to arrive at four o’clock Saturday. Stella will need to make some last minute alterations on the gown and then she will help you prepare and dress.”

Kathy nodded. “Is there anything I should do or bring?”

“You will need a provocative nightgown and white heels. No undergarments. Make-up, perfume, all the seductive accouterments a young bride deems necessary.”

“But,” she paused, having difficulty saying Richie’s name, “it’s obvious he doesn’t notice or care; it doesn’t matter to him.”

“Yes, that’s just the point. Don’t you see? You will know that whatever you do, however beautiful you appear, however provocatively you dress, however seductively you speak or move it will be wasted. That’s the reason you are giving yourself to him, the only justification for such a bizarre match. Any other man in the world, except possibly me, would be overwhelmed by your beauty. Any man the least bit aware would recognize in you a genuine capacity for tenderness and love. Remember how quickly you turned Wally into a worshipful schoolboy and how you despised him for it? I think, in time, you might even conquer Vinnie. But on Richie, you are wasting yourself. As you say, he does not care. He is incapable of caring.”

“I see,” she said, “your old idea of contrasts.”

“Of course, it’s only contrasts that give life its flavor.” Stein smiled at her. “Beauty and the...”

“Maggot,” she said.

Stein laughed. “Yes, the maggot.” He leaned back looking at the ceiling. “You must always, always appear before your new husband as provocative as you can be. Clean, meticulously groomed, carefully made-up, revealingly dressed, always the epitome of what every man desires. You must not hide. Although he will at first be reluctant, you and Richie must go out together where people can see you: restaurants, nightclubs, dances, parties. Do you understand?”

To be seen in public with Richie, she thought...too horrible to imagine, impossible. “Yes,” she said, “I understand.”

“And agree?”

“Yes, I agree.”

“And out among strangers or friends you will always be demonstrative, affectionate, loving. As soon as he realizes he can safely humiliate and abuse you, believe me he will. But you will return his abuse with affection, with loving words. In private and in public you will tease him, fondle him, kiss him.”

“I will.”

“At all times and in all places you will demonstrate to Richie and everyone else that you are a submissive and obedient wife.”

“Yes.” she said, “I will try very hard to be...to be what you describe.”

They looked steadily at each other for a long time. Stein nodded. “So, Mrs. Ryan, I believe you. I am convinced that you really do want to become Mrs. Richie Sconzo, and that your desire has nothing to do with my wishes.”

“Yes, the decision, as you saw, was mine. I want to become Mrs. Richie Sconzo.” The name was easier to say now.

“I think we may have a surprise or two for you on your wedding day,” he said. “Are you still opposed to a public consummation of the marriage vows?”

“I couldn’t do it, Mr. Stein, I just couldn’t.”

“Very well.” He rose and crossed to the door. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, turning back to her in the open doorway. “Bring your wedding band.” She appeared confused. “This one,” he said, taking her left hand. He slowly removed Jeff’s ring and placed it in her palm. “One small step at a time,” he said.