My post wedding party had been turned into a sex party. Everyone was naked and having sex. While some men had two ladies other had one, which they kept alternating. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Not all
the people were within my view as I searched for my
husband. What sort of sodomy was that? At one spot were two ladies doing themselves, in fact, the whole scene was just the perfect picture of a gang banging or group sex pornography. Scared, I withdrew from the window alarmed. I put my hands over my mouth so not to scream. I darted towards the door to fetch my husband. He’d better not
be riding another lady. We’d hardly talked to each other on our way home.
My tongue was tied and I couldn’t speak as a result
of what had met my eyes downstairs as I went
looking for my man. “I don’t believe I started my marriage on this note.” I
eventually broke the eery silence between us as we
finished unpacking. He didn’t​ say anything, rather he went into the bathroom. I sat on the bed and cried, clutching a
pillow to my chest. What had I not done for Vincent? I had never denied him sex and ensured each time he
had it to his full no matter how sore my private felt. I
had become a sex toy over the past few months of knowing and being with him. “Why are you crying?” I didn’t hear him come out.
I turned around to find him naked. He had just showered. “Isn’t that a dumb question?” “I think you’re just overreacting.”
“Overreacting you say?”
“Yes of course. What’s the big deal?” He asked. His words dealt me a blow and he suddenly became
irritable to me. “That I found my newly wedded
husband frolicking in a pool with five girls is not
reason enough to be mad? Eh Vincent? What sort of
rubbish talk is that? How long have we been married?” “You should have simply joined the other ladies.” He said calmly. “Most of those people you saw there are
couples, but no one gives a hoot. We mingle like that. If we must be spouses, then you need to get used to it. Sex is meant to be enjoyed, and variety is the spice of life. Don’t be so naive and conservative, look at the bright side of everything and you would be thankful.” Oh my God! What nonsense was he talking about? Vincent came and sat beside me, “in that family, we don’t know who is married to who. When you’re horny,
you turn to the nearest person to you.” “You must be sick. So it’s true that you’re a lunatic?” His face tightened in a frown. “What did you just
say?” “I said it’s true you’re a lunatic! I should have
listened.” “Who did you talk to?” He asked with rage writhing his
face. “What does it matter? It’s obvious that you are a lunatic. No normal person thinks the way you do.” I had barely completed my sentence when a deafening slap landed on my face. Few seconds darkness befell me and left me groping for safety. Before I could catch my breath, another one came from the other side of my face and sent me crashing on the floor from the bed. “I can’t see, oh God I can’t see.” I screamed. “Are you going to tell me whom you’ve been talking to?” I heard him cross over the bed to where I was. I struggled to scurry away from him but he caught me with his strong arms. The same arms that were firm
when we made out and contributed to our fun, were the ones that kept me from safety. I was crying but he didn’t care, rather he pinned me
to the floor yelling threats to my face. He threatened
to kill me if I didn’t tell him. “It’s Nelly… It’s Nelly.” I struggled to speak from
choking under his grip on my neck. “So you were discussing me with her and lied when I asked you?” He landed me more slaps, this time accompanied by punches from clenched fists. I
wrestled to defend myself from the punches but it
seemed to do little. He tore my clothes off my body and raped me.




…He tore my clothes off my and raped me. I lied there, motionless and passive, writhing in pain as he had his way until he was done and left me alone on the floor, crying with the little strength left in me. Vincent dressed up and left the house that evening and never returned until the next day.
When I acquired some strength, enough to get me off the floor, I dragged myself to the bed and propped myself against it. My head ached. I didn’t know who to talk to. I was alone and really alone in this. I couldn’t deal with complaining about the marriage I boasted about just a day after it started. Who would even make a sense from what I might have to say? It would just be awkward. How would I explain that my husband was swamped by five ladies and doing orgy sex in my post wedding party while I dozed off in the
bedroom upstairs. I dragged myself further towards the bathroom and
on getting by the mirror I decided to have look. I had become black eyed, with a red patch on my left white eye, the very eye that received a larger number of the punches. I needed a doctor. After cleaning up, I knew I had to do something, call
someone or at least get some medication. I dressed up in something nice and casual. I fluffed my hair so it would fall freely and cover the
landmarks Vincent had planted on my face. I picked a pair of shades from their rack and thought it covered well.
I started leaving only to get to the exit door and
realised it was locked. I had been locked in by
Vincent. What was he wishing me? It was three hours since he left and my head was still pounding from the panel beating I received from him. I slumped into one
of the couches and remained there for a long time before searching the entire house for any medicine I could find. Fortunately, I found some pain relievers and took them. Few minutes later, I slept off. I was still sleeping when I noticed someone’s presence in the room. I was still trying to wake up when Vincent joined me in bed and hugged me tight from behind. He remained that way and didn’t let me
wriggle free from his grip. He kissed my neck and
whispered into my ears.
“I’m sorry baby. It all ended yesterday. It will never
happen again.” I broke down and cried. That morning, he served me breakfast in bed and
pecked me at every chance he got. But my friends on Facebook have always opined that once a man starts to beat his wife, it never ends. I was yet to know how true that could be. At least, I was married now and ready to have a first hand
experience of all that.
I picked up my phone and left the contacts list where
I had been battling the temptation to call Nelly. She was the only person who could at least, understand. After I put the phone aside, Vincent spread before me
two passports and other documents that certified our trip to Dubai where the end began.




…She was the only person who could at least, understand. After I put the phone aside, Vincent spread before me two passports and other documents that certified our trip to Dubai where the end began. Life after the wedding day saga felt so rosy and aroused the concretization of the saying that it’s not about the start but the end. We might not have started well, but I believed we were on course to bliss. Vincent became a darling once again. He treated me like a king would treat his queen, holding and squeezing my hands occasionally and pecking my forehead as a conclusion to every
decision making. He would pat my back with
assurance and cupped my face in his hands when he
wanted to clarify me. Few days after my black eye had disappeared and my red eye also, we set for Dubai. Our trip started on
Facebook before we flew on Snapchat and later
landed on Instagram. All other of my social media
handles had their fair share. This time, my settings were not altered rather I had to tag some people in a bid to ensure the posts never eluded Nelly. She had become a silent preacher of marriage and good homes with some decent pictures of blissful moments with Peter. They were expecting a baby even. A cold wordless war was going on between Nelly and me, a cyber war. If she was aware of this war was something I never gave a hoot about rather I had solace in the fact that my fan base had increased drastically because of my slay pictures and short videos. My several pictures around the fleet of cars that graced Vincent compound, including that of his
neighbours helped me a lot. I simply entered the
Range Rover Sport and took pictures in the driver’s seat, behind the wheel, playing music and turning my head left to right like a standing fan and before a minute, it had hit over a hundred likes and hearts with comments from drooling admirers. I began hosting contests and dolled out huge amounts of cash on Facebook and Instagram.
My road to fame was made easier than so many
other’s road to their toilets, or so it seemed.
As soon as we arrived Dubai International Airport, we had a chauffeur driven car waiting to take us to a
cabin near the beach. The interior was state of the art and luxuriously furnished with furniture sets, chandeliers, a plasma TV and a 70’s recorder. From the bedroom upstairs, we had access to a view of the beach with white and black skins bared under
the sun. Everything about the cabin felt like I was shooting in a music video. In my mind’s eyes, I put golden chains on Vincent over a big white T-shirt and sagged pair of white jeans trousers and loafers; he looked like Puff Diddy. I just needed to dance and twerk and frolic around Vincent before a camera, under lights and boom mic, for the feeling to be complete. It felt even nice being made love to by Vincent on that large bed. We spent more time idling about, sensualising our bodies. Touching and teasing erogenous parts; his nipples, ear lobes, back of my neck, my arms and lot of other places. The cuddling was grand. We spent our honeymoon on sight seeing and shopping in several of Dubai’s malls. The highlight of our stay was a visit to the Seven Star Burj Al Arab
Jumeirah. The sight of gold stung with me as I gawked at the golden walls and decors of the massive hotel that
was symbolic of the United Arab Emirates. That day culminated in an intense love making.
All these happened and not a thing missed the social media. My fans went with me to Dubai, they knew and could tell my story better than me, especially those prolific and talented writers among them. I was ponderously rummaging the cabinets and dark
corners, looking for nothing exactly, just idling away as I waited for Vincent to return from a business meeting he had scheduled after luckily running into an old associate of his father’s.
My mind idled on why Nelly had never reacted to any of my posts; not even a single shade talk more of a sub. Damn! That girl was saner than I had thought. What ever was wrong with her, I rebuffed the thought with a jeering face. I decided to check our clothing  and other stuff in preparation for our departure since we had barely three days left. I was searching the wardrobe when I found a round knob at one end. I didn’t understand it
but just decided to turn it.
I tried turning it clockwise but it didn’t move so I tried
anti-clockwise and it broke free after the second attempt. After turning the knob, the board behind it loosened and I shoved it inside. I needed a flashlight and quickly recouped one. I flashed it in and found some framed pictures and other photos stacked together. I pulled them out and retreated to the table to study them. The face I saw in the framed photos looked familiar.




The face I saw in framed photos looked familiar. Yes, my brain quickly called it up. It was the huge dark predator at the post wedding party. It was Shriek, the ghoul Vincent had addressed as Buggy. I began to sweat and shake visibly in the air conditioned room. What was his picture doing here? Perhaps he used this room also or even owned it. I quickly sought to see what the other stacked pictures held. My eyes bulged at the sight of what I had forgotten, what I once thought was hallucination. So it was real? The same things I had seen in Vincent’s
room the first time, even a scarier sight. I searched
from picture to picture at how women were bandaged and fastened to an apparatus where they were tortured and used for sexual gratification.
Conspicuous marks from whip lashes and dripping
blood decorated the women’s bodies as their faces writhed in pain and tears. What was all this?
Curiosity led me to view more and by the time I got
to the last photo, I was convinced that the room in the photos was in the cabin I had been sleeping,
eating and making love in. I was totally oblivious of
the spooky nature of this house, enjoying what was
supposed to be a nightmare for me. The revelation made me shudder and drop one of the framed photos to shatters on the floor and jolted me from the seat. I wanted to see it all. I knew I had to search the house to find this room. Where else could it be? I had entered all the rooms in
the house so no room that size could be anywhere on
the surface of the earth, sharing the same building
with the one I was in. I was about giving up when I tripped and fell, crashing
into a flower pot just under the staircase. I was
struggling to stand when I caught a glimpse of a
squat door on the floor underneath the staircase.
Yes, there was a basement. I struggled to my feet and went to check the door. The metal latch on the door was posing some difficulty but I forced it open anyway and found a wooden staircase that led into a steep darkness. I went back to retrieve my torch and returned to calm my curiosity. I took one step at a time, descending
the creaking stairs without a rail. I flashed my
torchlight but couldn’t see much ahead. At the foot of the stairs, I searched and found a light switch. As soon as I switched on the lights, my jaw dropped and my stomach churned. My head swirled around me and my limbs lost their strength. I slumped and passed out. When I woke up, I was lying on the bed and Vincent had almost packed all our bags. I didn’t understand what he was up to.In a flash, the pictures of the basement, the sight of bondage apparatuses looking like a serial killers laboratory, the whips and chains and clips and needles, they all came back. With a jerk, I thrust myself up to a sitting position, startling Vincent to an abrupt turn.
“You’re awake.” He turned and continued packing.
“What is this place?” “What are you talking about?” “You know exactly what I’m talking about. What is his picture doing here?” I asked through squinting eyes. “You ask too many questions.” He replied coldly.”  I need answers Vincent .” I yelled. “What exactly are you? Who are you? Who did I marry? What else am I going to find out?” He lunged at me at lightening speed, pinning me down with a hand cupped over my mouth. ” Shut up, this is not Zambia. Stop shouting or I’ll kill you and leave you here to rot.” After he calmed me, he retreated and stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at me. “We’re leaving first thing tomorrow morning. I got a call from home that my parents were both involved in an auto crash. They are both unconscious as we
speak.” He said calmly and started for the bathroom.
I was weakened but never shut a lid until daybreak.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s