Slow realization came to her. Oscar’s voice had lost most of its harsh, angry tone, leaving behind something a bit more familiar. Her fingers hesitantly left the leather at her neck to settled back into place on the bedpost. Elsie would have to endure this if she was to be both his wife and activist. This was her place, caught in between two words that expected completely opposite things from her. The balancing act would break her, surely.<br/><br/>“Mr. Williams.” A new mask settled across her features as her voice caressed the room softly.<br/><br/>Her eyes slid shut, forehead back to rest on the wood above her hands. The protruding hard was that she had spent hours worshiping prodded her entrance. She didn’t want this, but she wasn’t sure what she did want. Affection, love, understanding - it was obvious that Oscar would never offer those to her. In his world, his was her place, right?<br/><br/>It was fear that left her body tense and trembling. When he began to force his way into her, her body did not welcome the invasion. Of course, it would relent at some point, after trying to reject his advances painfully.<br/><br/>The belt dig into her skin, sickeningly tight. Both blood and oxygen were restricted, making her go a bit soft as she was forced to sink in labored, deep breaths. He took her like that, lightheaded and unable to protest, in a place that now only caused pain and not quite pleasure. And yet, her neglected space begged for attention. She wanted her husband to have her like he was supposed to, in that proper manner in which men did when they loved their wives.<br/><br/>Elsie wasn’t going to get that. He would never love her, never worship her for making his life a brighter place. Instead, she’s live her life at his feet, painfully.<br/><br/>The sound that escaped her restricted throat caught her unaware. It was a weak mix of pain, fear and pleasure as her body took what he offered while begging for something else. Her thighs trembled under his barrage of thrusts, horrified by her body’s response to his neglect and abuse. She could feel it, how slick she was becoming. As he drove himself into one hole, the other wet itself in jealousy while the woman held on the bedpost, taut at the end of the leather strap.