Continues....

His expression darkened. "Freedom? From me?" He paused for a moment, his grip on her waist tightening.

"You're my wife," he asserted, his tone unwavering. "You should naturally miss me."

"You can't dictate how I feel just because you have the power to control me physically," she shot back, his escalating frustration palpable in the air.

"Don't talk like that." He said, his voice firmer.

"I didn't push you into anything," he asserted confidently. "But what about what happened earlier?" a hint of challenge in her voice. He held her gaze, contemplating his next words, as silence hung delicately between them.

"That's not the same thing." He said, his voice firmer. He paused again, trying to compose himself.

"I didn't coerce you into that," he stated firmly. "Oh, really? So, was it love then?" she taunted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. He hesitated, caught off guard by the sharpness of her words.

The word "love" hung in the air between them, filling the room with an almost tangible intensity.

He swallowed, his expression growing more vulnerable.

"No," he replied, his voice dropping to a hushed tone. "It wasn't love."

"Was it merely lust then?" The words stung, igniting a tumult of embarrassment and anger within him.

"It wasn't just lust." He said, his voice gruff. He paused for a moment, his mind racing.

"It was... desire." "To make me submit," He couldn't deny that was part of it.

"Yes." He said, his voice firmer now. "I wanted to make you submit."

He hesitated, searching her face for any sign of uncertainty. "I'll never be yours," she replied, the weight of her words hanging in the air. A shadow crossed his features, revealing the depth of his disappointment.

"You're already my wife." He said, his voice firm. He reached for her wrist, holding it tight.

"You're mine, and I won't let you forget it," he growled, his voice low and possessive. She flinched, a sharp jolt of pain shooting through her as the weight of his words settled heavily in the air. Glancing down, he saw the stark imprint of his fingers digging into her delicate wrist, and a wave of realisation washed over him. The grip he had intended to be firm had tightened into something almost cruel, a reminder of his overpowering grip on her, both physically and emotionally.

He let go, guilt creeping in as he looked at her wrist, seeing the slight marks left from his grip.

"I'm sorry," he replied, his voice almost a whisper. "Back home, I felt a sense of happiness—where I didn't have to endure your cruelty day after day." Her words struck him, and his expression turned steely, revealing the weight of their exchange.

"Brutality?" He said, his voice filled with disbelief. "Is that what you think this is?"

He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

"You didn't even once feel pleasure from it?" "Absolutely not," she firmly rejected.

His face clouded with frustration at her reply.

"You're lying." He said. He grabbed her chin, making her look directly at him.

"You were moaning and trembling underneath me. You can't deny it." He let go of her chin.

"Admit it. You're nothing but a shameless little slut." "I'm not a sult", she pushes him to distance himself in bed.

He felt a sharp surge of anger at her defiance. He grabbed her again, pulling her roughly back against him.

"Yes, you are." He said, his voice firm. "You're a little slut who craves me and only me."

He pressed his body against hers, pinning her against the bed.

"Nobody else can make you feel the way I do." "I'm not a whore." With fury blazing in her eyes, she spat her words like daggers, each syllable laced with hurt. He responded with a derisive laugh, a chill mockery that dripped from his lips, as if he found amusement in her pain.

"You sure act like one." He said, his grip on her body tightening.

"Look at you." He said, his voice huskier now. "Spreading your legs for me."

A part of him was realising the cruelty of his words, but another part of him was too lost in the heat of the moment. "I never did that, you always claimed me savagely," he couldn't deny the truth in her words.

"But you took it," he growled, his voice low and menacing, a ripple of barely contained rage simmering beneath the surface.

"You seized everything I offered you, every last piece of me."

His face loomed dangerously close to hers, the heat radiating from him creating an electric tension in the air. "You're mine," he declared, his words seeping into her like poison, each syllable laced with a cruel intent meant to strip away her strength and crush her spirit completely.

"You've given me the freedom to use you in any way I choose, at any moment I desire."

He leaned in even closer, his eyes roaming over her body.

"You're nothing but a plaything for me." "No, I'm not," she screamed in tears.

He felt a pang of guilt at the sight of her tears, but it was quickly overshadowed by his own emotions.

"Don't cry." He said, his voice slightly softer now.

He reached out and wiped away a tear from her cheek.

"You're mine," he declared again, his voice dripping with a fierce possessiveness that sent a shiver down her spine. There was an intensity in his gaze, a promise wrapped in a warning, as if he were marking his territory in a way that left no room for doubt. "And you will learn to accept that."

"You're so cruel," she shot back, her voice laced with a mix of anger and heartbreak. "I'll always hate you for this." His expression darkened, the shadows deepening in his features, revealing a side of him she had never wanted to acknowledge. It was as if her words cut through him, but instead of retreating, an impenetrable fortress wrapped in an unsettling silence.

"Don't try to guilt-trip me." He said, his voice firmer.

He was bewildered by the surge of anger that coursed through him at her defiance, a fire igniting within him that he couldn't quite grasp. Yet, he remained blind to the reality that his unpredictable bipolar behaviour toward her was inflicting deep wounds, leaving her heart heavy with pain. Each explosive reaction chipped away at the fragile fabric of their relationship, while he remained trapped in a cycle of unawareness, lost in the tumult of his own emotions.

"You should be grateful." He said. "I'm giving you a life of opulence, of luxury."

"I don't want," he felt a mix of anger and frustration at her words.

"You don't get to choose." He said, his voice firm. "You're my wife now."

He paused for a moment, his eyes locked on hers.

"And I expect you to act like one." "You always disrespect me, order me, and never listen, and you say I'm your wife when we aren't even equal."

He sighed, his expression turning resentful. "Equal? You're just a woman." He said, his voice harsh.

"You think you have it bad?" He asked. "You should see married women in Britain or the USA. What they have to do. What they have to endure."

"Just because your country is oppressive to women, everyone will be," she accused

He felt a pang of anger at her words.

"Don't compare me to those." He said, his voice harsh.

He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

"I'm giving you a life of luxury." He said. "Something you would have never had in your old life."

"Oh, don't get ahead of yourself. I'm the daughter of a land Lord. I have seen more luxury than you," he felt a twinge of annoyance at her words.

"Oh, please." He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You may have been a daughter of a landlord, but you were still a girl with no education or prospects."

He paused for a moment, his expression turning mocking.

"You should be grateful I took you."No education. Huh, what do you know about me before marriage? I was a student of philosophy," he felt a hint of surprise at her revelation.

"Philosophy?" He repeated, his voice a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

"You actually went to college?" "No home tuition". He couldn't hide his surprise.

"You learnt philosophy at home?" He paused for a moment, studying her face.

"You're not bullshitting me, right?" "What gives you the impression that only you, as a Brit, are entitled to an education?" Her words struck him, igniting a surge of defensiveness within him.

"It's not just because I'm British." He said, his voice firm. "It's because I'm from a high-class family, I'm the lord."

He paused for a moment, his expression turning almost haughty. "I come from a long line of distinguished gentlemen."

"In your country, not here". For us, you people are only invaders." His expression darkened at her words.

"Watch your tongue." He said, his voice firm. His eyes locked with hers.

"We may be invaders to you, but we're bringing civilisation to this land. You people were just savages before we arrived."

He paused for a moment, his voice dripping with disgust. "You should be thankful for everything we've done for you."

"Oh, which history book taught you? The history of Queen Elizabeth. She said sarcastically

He felt a flash of anger at her remark, "Don't mock me." He said, his voice firm. "I know my history."

His expression turned defensive. "The British Empire has brought about incredible advancements in medicine, technology, law, and education. We've built infrastructure, irrigation systems, and transportation systems.

"Yes, you did, and we did not. Is your fragile ego happy?" He felt emotions of anger, frustration, and a hint of vulnerability.

"My ego is not fragile." He said, his voice defensive. He paused for a moment, his mind racing to find a rebuttal.

"And what has your country done? You have a backwards caste system. Women are burned alive as Sati. Child marriage."

He paused again, the anger building.

"Don't act as if your country is perfect. Caste was never there; it was you people who introduced it, just like your country. Sati was due to nigrophila. Where looters and invaders, especially from Islamic countries, used to have sex with the dead bodies of women

Throughout history, the practice of sati arose as a way to honour and protect the dignity of women in death. In a society fraught with threats, where looters and marauders roamed, the grim tradition of child marriage emerged from a similar desire to safeguard young girls—often pulled from the vulnerable folds of poverty or debasement. The fear of violent abduction led families to seek what they believed was a protective union, albeit at a grave cost. This complex tapestry of cultural practices reflects the desperate measures borne from a turbulent past, where women's honour and safety were fiercely contested.

His expression hardened. "You're being naive." He said, his voice firm.

He paused for a moment, trying to collect himself.

"You're trying to blame all of your problems on us, but the truth is, you have many issues of your own."

"I'm not placing all the blame on you. Before your arrival, we faced the Mughals and various Islamic invaders who contributed to our struggles. Let's not forget that our own people have also played a role in our betrayal."

He sighed, feeling a mixture of frustration and resignation. "It's always someone else's fault, huh?" He said, his voice weary.

He paused for a moment, running a hand through his hair.

"Maybe we're just the latest in a long line of conquerors. Maybe that's just the way the world works."

"But one day we will be free," she declared, her eyes glistening with a spark of hope that cut through the heaviness of their surroundings. He responded with a hollow laugh that echoed under the dim light, a sound devoid of warmth.

"Free? You actually believe you'll ever taste freedom?" he retorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

"As long as there is power," he continued, his voice growing sombre, "there will always be those who covet it."

"True, but soon the reins of power will shift into the hands of the people," she pressed, her optimism unfaltering even in the face of his scorn. He rolled his eyes dramatically, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

"Oh, is that so?" he mocked, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he leaned closer, challenging her. "And who exactly are these people you're so eager to defend? The common people?

He couldn't contain the hint of derision in his tone. She sighs and turns around to sleep. He felt a pang of frustration seeing her turn away from him.

"You're just going to ignore me now?" He said, a hint of disbelief in his voice. He watched her silently for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts.

"You're incredibly stubborn, you know that?" he said, exasperation evident in his tone.

"Not any more than you," she retorted, a defiant spark in her eyes.

He scoffed, frustration tightening his jaw. "You're the most obstinate woman I've ever met. Can't you just listen for once?"

With a smirk, she replied, "Teach me tomorrow, good night, my lord," her disdain hanging in the air as she turned away.

"Every word he spoke was another blade in her chest."

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Author's note- I AGAIN DO NOT PROMOTE FORCEFUL ENCOUNTERS OF S*X

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