Chapter 26 Her Defeat

I'm posting a day earlier because I'll be busy at an anime con this weekend and don't think I would have time on Friday. So here 'tis. Warning for nonconsensual sexual activity.

Adeladja groaned. She had such strange dreams, images shifting into each other. White palaces in clouds, a misshapen monster made of many human parts wishing her "Wesołych Świąt!" as it offered to strangle her, a well-dressed woman on a white horse cantering over her and crushing her bones into the ground.1 A splendid red and gold galleon crashed against rocks in a cordial glass as waves played and murmured overhead. She shook her head and reached to massage her temples, but her hands wouldn't move. She tried again, tugging, but her hand wouldn't come to her. She opened her eyes and noted that her hand was tied to the bedpost with a stocking. The other one and her legs were also tied, so that she was spread-eagle on the hotel bed. It was already dusk.

"Nein!" She wailed, clenching her fists and kicking her stocking feet on the mattress. She looked down and realized she was only dressed in her corset, shift and stockings. Mój Bój, she agonized, she should never have had that drink! She growled in frustration and tried to yank herself free, but the knots grew tighter.

She heard a paper rustle and glared at the desk. Prussia looked up over a newspaper. He had cleaned himself up and was in shirtsleeves. He sauntered over to the bed. She could see that his black eye and bruises were already fading and even his split lower lip looked healed.

"So how's my girl?" He asked, smoothing her forehead.

"I'm not your girl!" She hissed. She bared her teeth and lunged at his hand, but he pulled away. She hated how amused he looked. "That verdammt Goldwasser! I've missed my train!" She banged her head against the pillow, frustrated at how her one chance for escape had drowned in a glass of liquor.

"There's always another train to Danzig, Liebling," Prussia said. "And really, a nice Polish girl cursing like a trooper." He clucked disapprovingly.

"I learned it from you," she muttered. She shook her head, as her helplessness began to grow. "Why did you do this to me?"

Prussia shrugged. "You were going to run away and I wouldn't have that. Especially after your scene, that letter, and what you did to me last night."

She stared at him, confounded. "What did I do to you last night? " As he studied her, she began to realize what he meant. "Ach nein, you can't blame me for that! I was nice to you! I was willing! It's not my fault you can't—"

"Don't say another word," he growled, clapping his hand over her mouth; it smelled like tobacco and soap. She tried to sink her teeth into his palm, but he pressed down harder, mashing her lips against her teeth. "I'm going to gag you, Hexe, if you don't behave yourself."2 He had covered her nose, and soon she couldn't breathe. "Will you be good?" He demanded. She nodded and he removed his hand.

Adeladja gasped for air. She followed his eyes and noted he was watching her breasts heave, a little smirk on his face. You're disgusting, she thought to herself. She slowed her breathing to normal. He turned back to her face, still smirking. "Would you like to breathe easier, Schätzchen?" She glowered at him, but as he began to undo the busk's clasps, she tried to rock her body away from him.

Prussia leaped onto the bed, straddled her and finished undoing the corset. Adeladja watched its sides unfurl and fall to the side, the boning and dark fabric reminding her of bat's wings. Dead bats, she thought. She sank back, watching his hands run along her outstretched arms, through her loosened hair and brush against her chest.

"Why all this?" She whispered, nodding towards the stockings tying her to the bedposts. He looked amused.

"Isn't it obvious?" He replied. "Between the running away, the bites, kicks and slaps, you're a very dangerous young lady. Now that you've gotten your health back, I can't trust you to behave yourself." He leaned forward, propping himself on his elbows, his face hovering above hers. "You know what they do at the state stud in Trakehnen at breeding time? They hobble the mares to keep them from harming those valuable stallions." He shrugged and grinned. "I'm just protecting myself, kleines Stutfohlen."3

Adeladja worked up some saliva to spit at him, but he grabbed her throat. "Don't even think of it." His playful tone had disappeared. "Now listen to me. We're going to finish what we started last night. If you behave, we can have a pleasant time together; if you don't, I'm still going to enjoy myself. So it's up to you, Adeladja, whether you suffer or not." His fingers squeezed slightly and he looked expectantly at her.

Of course, Adeladja thought bitterly, it was always her fault, her responsibility. This was just a harsher version of what he had told her on the pier yesterday. She was captive, she realized; he had lied to everyone at the hotel about their marital status, he had done something to yesterday's drink, and now she was tied down like a pig about to be gutted. She was tired and her mind couldn't come up with any more options. She closed her eyes and muttered, "Do what you have to do and get it over with." She steeled herself for the burst of pain she expected from his forced entrance into her.

Prussia's fingers lingered on her throat. "You don't set the rules, Fraulein. You're not going to run to others crying that that brute Prussia tore you apart." He made her look at him. His red-violet eyes narrowed as he leered, "Besides, you're not such an innocent maiden. Remember Sanssouci?" He licked his lips and Adeladja shuddered. Anything she had done out of kindness or self-protection was thrown back in her face. She exhaled, sinking into the bed. "You win," she whispered.

Prussia's mouth slowly widened into a smile. "Smart girl," he said. He moved his hand to stroke her cheek and hair. She closed her eyes, holding the tears back. Let him have his fun, she thought. She would distance her true self away from her body, especially since there was no temptation of pleasure or possibility to turn the tables. She felt his fingers trace her eyebrows, jawline, and lips. She knew how this went: the lure of gentleness pulling her in, and then the reveal of his true nature when it was too late for her to escape. She wasn't going to be tricked this time, she thought as she imagined herself back in her house on Long Street, reading one of her books by the bedroom window.

His lips brushed hers, and she turned her head away. She knew the kisses always did her in. His fingers ran through her hair and pulled her back to face him. "No kisses, Liebling?" Prussia teased. "You know who also doesn't like to kiss?" His lips traced her ear. "Prostitutes. Is that what you are, Adeladja?" His hand tugged sharply, sending little spikes of pain into her scalp and causing her eyes to open. "Do you really want me to treat you like a whore I bought for the night?"

She wished she had the energy and courage to tell him yes, that he could drop the role of lover and be the brute he was. But she was helpless, exhausted, and all her bravery had disappeared with her escape plan. She shook her head, screwed her eyes shut and offered him her mouth. The same approach as always, she thought as his lips teased hers apart. She focused on lying still, teeth closed until he squeezed her jaw open with his long fingers. She would make him work for everything, she decided, as he swirled his tongue around hers, trying to tease it into life. Maybe he would get bored and go away.

His lips moved down her neck and along her shoulders. And now we're on to the next stage , a bored voice sighed. Next stop, piersi.4Adeladja smiled inwardly, pleased with this distant observer and her commentary in her head. Sure enough, his hand had pushed down her chemise and was stroking and pressing one already. Men, her inner observer sniffed, so predictable. She agreed and tried to imagine having this conversation with her new friend in her parlor on Long Street, laughing at male simplicity over tea and pierniczki.5

"Nnngh!" Her reverie was interrupted by a sharp pain running from her shoulder. Adeladja opened her eyes and saw Prussia smirking at her, teeth fixed in the muscle of her upper shoulder. She glared at him and he laughed without releasing his hold. He winked as he ran his tongue along the skin and then sucked at the spot. He slid his mouth back up to hers, teeth scraping along the delicate skin of her neck, a reminder of what he could do to her.

"That got your attention, didn't it, Liebste?"6 He hovered over her, teasing at her lips with little bites. "You like pain, Adeladja?" He pinched the nipple he had been stroking and she gasped and glared again. "It does add a certain spice to things, doesn't it?"

"Please don't," she murmured.

"Then you need to stay awake, Frauleinchen."7His garnet eyes bore into hers as he raked his fingers through her hair and tilted her head upward, her throat exposed like one for the knife. "Now kiss me like you did last night."

Adeladja obeyed, feeling her throat tighten and tears crest under her closed eyelids. Her clever observer had nothing to say; she would have no peace, no escape from his full attention. The tears streaked down the side of her face into her hairline. She cringed when she felt his tongue lick them up. Bóze, she thought, just do it and leave me alone!

Prussia sighed in her ear and stroked her hair with one hand, while the other toyed with her breast. Adeladja could feel her nipple stiffening and tingling under her fingers. Stop,she commanded, but her flesh ignored her. "Schätzchen," he whispered, "you said the sweetest thing to me earlier today, just before you fell asleep. Do you remember it?"

Adeladja shook her head. Caught again, she thought in despair. Unguarded attempts at kindness, polite acknowledgments of gratitude, confused mumblings under the influence: all used against her, shutting like doors behind her as he forced her into a tiny room with nothing but him.

"You asked me to forgive you and Feliks for the past." He brushed his nose against her cheek and rested his lips against her neck. "You showed compassion," he continued. Soft little kisses down her neck to her collarbone. "I'll gladly forgive you, moją dziewczynę kochanie, but you must be sweet and willing, ja?"8

Adeladja wondered if they were opening negotiations. When he looked up at her with bright red eyes, she asked, "And in return?"

Prussia looked confused for a second and then he narrowed his eyes knowingly. "In return, I forgive you, just like I said."

Adeladja was about to ask what "forgiveness" entailed and what would happen if she refused, but she gasped as his mouth closed down on her nipple and his tongue circled it. Well, I guess this conversation's over; she was relieved her cynical friend had returned. She shifted as he sucked at her while he kneaded the other breast. She could feel a warmth fluttering in her stomach and traveling up to her breasts; she concentrated on how tired her arms felt, the strain on her muscles, anything to keep from feeling the other sensations. She glanced down at his head, at how the silver blond hair fell into his closed eyes as he nursed and kneaded away. Like a demon child, she thought, curling her lip, an evil kitten. She couldn't believe that only last night she had been willing to stroke his hair and smile down at him when he had done the same thing; now she wished her arms were free so she could grab the hated Goldwasser bottle off the night stand and bring it down on his skull.

"If I stroke your hair," she whispered, "would that count as 'sweet and willing'?" He looked up at her and she smiled and gently waved her right hand, the one near the night stand. "Would you like that?"

For a moment, she thought he was going to agree; she could see from the glint in his eye that it appealed to him. But then the glint turned hard. "Nein, Liebling, I don't trust you," he whispered, keeping his eyes on her face as he trailed kisses from one breast to the other.

Adeladja stifled a groan as her head slumped back on the pillow. He's going to suck you dry, the observer warned. She needed to distract herself from the waves of warmth that threatened to loosen her body away from her control. She recalled her city's streets, their Polish and German names, the way they crossed or divulged from each other, who lived where and which trades ruled which lanes. She tried to remember the name and face of each Hanseatic member's personification, their dominant characteristics: Lübeck, golden-haired, motherly; Thorn, strawberry blond with freckles, shy but smiling; Elbing, a brunette with green eyes and a wicked sense of humor; Friesland, an ash-blond youth with green eyes, who faded away into the Kingdom of the Netherlands; Marienburg, white-blonde with violet eyes, quiet as a snake, Teutonic Order's sister—

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrripppp! The sound and gust of air on her belly startled her into the present. Prussia sat astride her, torn edges of her chemise in his hands. He shrugged and smirked at her shock. "I wanted a better view," he said as he dropped the cloth and ran his hands up and down her exposed rib cage and stomach. "So soft and smooth," he whispered as he stroked her. He undid his shirt and pulled it off, revealing pale skin crisscrossed with silver and pink scars. She could see his muscles move under his skin; he'd make a nice statue, she thought. At least no one would fear those limbs and that cruel, clever mind if he were only marble. She could also see his erection pushing against the cloth of his trousers; disgusting creature, the observer sneered. She agreed.

He rubbed his hair and cheek where her stomach curved inward between her ribs and hips, and sighed. Now this would have been a good time to ask, the observer told her. Too bad you already made that move. Adeladja kept watching Prussia stroke her sides and breasts, his eyes glazing over with some distant look she had rarely seen in him. If only she could free her right hand and grab the liqueur bottle!

She returned to her roll call of the Hanseatic League. Bremen, stolid blue-eyed blond; Hamburg, darker blond with hazel eyes, just as stolid; Malmo, tall beautiful girl with golden hair and golden skin—who else belonged to Sweden? She struggled to recall…

And then she felt his fingers rubbing her again, and she didn't know whether to gasp in surprise or let the observer speak for her. Same old trick, she sighed, shaking her head. Adeladja blinked and shut her eyes; she didn't need to see the first step of her violation. She could certainly feel it; she kept forcing her mind to scold her body: Stop it, she commanded, stop it! She tried recalling the prices of wheat, rye, wool, and linen, anything to stop the warmth from spreading throughout her pelvis.

"Now that's a good girl," Prussia whispered so softly that she could almost fool herself into thinking someone else was speaking to her. She remembered the rebellion and siege she had fought against Feliks, and the handsome, wild-haired young man who had tossed pebbles at her window one night. He had come from Denmark to let her know his King had agreed to support her mortals with a blockade. He was Denmark, blond hair cresting like a rooster's comb, clear blue eyes looking up at her, wheedling for a kiss, and she had teased him with one on his cheek. "I want a real one," he had pouted, and she had promised one when they had succeeded. But sadly, they hadn't. Maybe if she pretended it was Denmark doing this to her, she could bear it, even forgive her body for its disobedience. She closed her eyes and sighed as the warmth fluttered up her torso. Mmmmm, Denmark, the observer agreed, now that's a fine nation for you. He wouldn't need stockings to keep you in his bed.

Adeladja felt hungry lips part hers, a warm tongue twine with hers. Ahhh, Denmark, she thought, but when she gazed through half-closed lids, she only saw Prussia, her enemy and captor. Last night she had thought he was handsome, but now she only saw the hard angles of his cheekbones and nose, the moon-pale skin, the centuries of smirks, insults and contempt. She had to remind herself that Prussia was the source of the pleasure she felt, in order to dull it. But her body ignored her.

She felt his lips slide down her neck (again, the observer sighed), tease each breast (again, the observer noted) and trail down her stomach (Well, that's new, the observer noted). His free hand followed and squeezed her behind. Two fingers were inside her now, sliding in and out, pressing against the front of her. Stop it, she wanted to cry and kick her legs, stop making me feel this way. She felt as if her body were melting, her leg and arm sockets yielding and spreading, preparing her for the final assault. You've got a voice, the observer said. She was growing bored, even contemptuous. I'm sorry, Adeladja told her, I'm trying, but—

MMmmppff! She felt something warm and wet swirling around that button. She blinked and looked down. She could see Prussia's head between her legs and she realized he was kissing her down there. He was using his lips and tongue as if that were her own mouth. Men, I told you they were disgusting, the observer said, and Adeladja nodded fervently, overwhelmed .

Adeladja whimpered as her hips arched so Prussia's tongue could reach her better. Stop it, she begged her body, stop it! She tried to force herself to stay still, but her body had become a runaway horse, deaf to her commands. She looked down and saw him watching her as he redoubled his efforts with his mouth and fingers. Stop him, you Schlampfe! Cried the observer. Adeladja couldn't hear her anymore; she could see Prussia's lips curve upwards in a smile, his deep burgundy eyes, and she could feel a rush of energy in her lower stomach push her along. The horse charged into the unknown, chasing the horizon, and just at the moment when she realized she was going too far, and there was nothing beneath her—

"Pozwalany udaje się,9" he whispered, eyes glowing red-violet between her legs, and she did. She didn't know what to expect: a crash, madness, drowning in a sea off a cliff. She felt as if she were caught in an undertow, each wave spreading her open to an intense feeling she had never experienced before. She cried out, feeling herself tighten around his fingers with each breath. Tears came to her eyes as she gasped. This is wrong, this isn't how it was supposed to be!

The observer left the room, clutching her skirts as if she were walking along a filthy street. You disgust me, she said. Adeladja watched her disappear, begging her to return. I didn't mean it, she pled, he tricked me. She shook her head in shame: how could she have felt this without her permission?

Before she could take another breath, Prussia's lips met her own. They tasted of musk, celery, and salt. "That's what you taste like, Liebling," he whispered. Adeladja wanted to vomit. She felt base and whorish; even a whore could have controlled herself better, she thought in despair.

She watched him undo his trousers and drawers. She had seen this before, but now it was going to be the final act. She watched him stroke himself and ease down between her thighs. She felt him slide himself up and down her wet entrance, and then he pushed in. Bóze, it hurt, as if someone were trying to force a wooden baton into her. She whimpered and twisted at the burning, tearing pain as she clenched her muscles.

"Stop fighting me," Prussia hissed, circling his fingers around her throat. "Just breathe and relax." Adealadja closed her eyes and shook her head. Only when he pushed harder and the pain increased, did she finally give up and follow his instructions. It still hurt, but she could bear it; she had to.

She felt a breath brush her cheek. When she looked up, she saw Prussia staring at her. "So beautiful." He seemed to have a hard time speaking. "So gemütlich."10He began thrusting in and out of her, biting at her chin, ears, and neck with a hot open mouth. Adeladja closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to watch. She begged the observer to return, so she could hear her snide comments and drown out the vile sounds of flesh thumping against flesh, his panting and groans, her own sighs and forced whimpers from the impact. But the observer was gone for good. Adeladja gave up; she had no allies to urge her to resist. She was tired, her arms ached, her inner thighs strained from being spread and now she had to bear his weight. If moving with him made things more bearable, she would.

At one point he stopped and she could feel his body pull away from hers. Dobrze, she thought, he's done.11 But he was still inside her, teasing with little pulses that made her want to slap him. "Say my name," he whispered.

"Preußen," she muttered.

He thrust hard into her and she gasped at the impact. "No, my name." Back to the little pulses just inside her, making her grit her teeth and try to stifle the little squeak of pleasure scurrying up her body.

"Gilbert," she sighed and he slid into her, panting harder and burying his face into her hair and neck. As he thrust away, she kept her eyes screwed shut and tried drowning out the noises of their bodies with songs she remembered. But they seemed to rattle loose out of her mind, and she was trapped, begging him silently to finish, when he drove in to the hilt and gasped,"Oh oh oh!" He braced against her, and then finally, he sank onto her body, breathing deeply.

Adeladja lay there, defeated. Prussia rested on top of her, sighing contentedly, his sharp nose nuzzling her neck. She could feel him within her, throbbing into stillness. She had been besieged before, but she had always avoided having it enacted on her body. Now, she realized, she had fallen, more thoroughly than she had in 1734 or 1793.12

It didn't matter that he stroked her hair and kissed her neck and cheek, telling her how good she felt. After he slipped out of her, he undid one arm and gently folded it over to tie to the other. Then he untied the matching leg and tied her ankles together. Stunned, Adeladja shifted to lying on her side, arms and legs trussed and tied to the bed's front and rear bedposts on the left. Prussia curled up behind her, his body lining up with hers like spoons stacked in the drawer of her sideboard in her dining room on Long Street. When she heard his sighs turn to small snores, she finally sobbed herself to sleep.

So what do you think of Prussia's plan and Adeladja's experience? I like to hear from all of you and thanks for coming so far.

1 Polish: Merry Christmas!

2 German: witch

3 German: little filly

4 Polish: the breasts

5 Polish: gingerbread cookies

6 German: sweetheart

7 German: missy

8 Polish: my darling girl

9 Polish: Let go

10 German: snug, cozy

11 Polish: Good

12 1734-During the War of the Polish Succession, Russia and France, allies of the King of Saxony, laid siege to Danzig and were victorious. 1793-the Third Partition of Poland, when Prussia finally took over the city of Danzig.