Love's Bitter Aftermath
Language: en
Every time my husband, Damian, brought his secretary into our bedroom, he made me kneel by the bed and wait. If she didn’t know what to do, he’d make me teach her, guiding her hands with mine. And after they were finished, I would dutifully approach with a tray, offering them drinks to soothe their throats. Damian would grip my neck, his voice a low rasp. “Don’t you feel a single shred of jealousy?” I would just shake my head, even offering to get them protection for next time. His rage would boil over. He’d throw me onto the bed and take me again and again, but the next day, I would be…