Guess who's a horrible person... Me! I feel awful you guys. Really. But I'm also going to yell at you. The more you review, the more I write. Seriously, if you leave one little sentence I will be one hundred percent more inclined to update. I have gotten zero reviews sense I stopped updating. So while I'm a horrible person for not updating, you guys are also horrible people for not getting on my butt and harrassing me until I stop procrastinating and write. (Plus, I never get any emails anymore, and it makes me feel lonely.) Well, here's the next chapter.

The ignorant bliss of sleep slowly ebbed away and I shifted. Sunlight hit my closed eyelids. I groaned and hid my face in the blankets; the sheets in which I was tangled soft against my skin.

I began twisting my hips to the side and stopped at the sensation coming from my most intimate areas, wiping away all drowseyness and throwing memories into my mind like a javalin.

I shot into a sitting position and winced. The room was empty except for myself.

"I will not be with you during the day..."

"Oh." I whispered to myself.

I'm not sure what I had expected, but I know I at least expected to be able to talk to my husband. Last night seemed so romantic and wonderful, albet very foreign, and I didn't even think about him leaving. Not ever being able to see him.

Will I even know his name? Or am I simply to call him "husbend"? Would it be against his rules to ask?

I pulled myself away from the comfort of the bed, and carefully made my way towards the bathroom.

The steaming hot water relaxed my muscles, and momentairaly soothed the ache of my lost innocence. Pulling my knees to my chest, I embrased myself and squeezed my eyes shut; and imagioned my mother.

She had always tried to prepare us for this. My sisters and I were told stories and given advise. She'd explain to us what would happen once we were married, and all the consequences that came with it. Afterwords, mother would look at us with a tearful expression and hold us tightly to her bosom. As a child I thought it rediculous. What part of love could cause so much pain?

I was wrong though.

It seems love has caused me more pain than I woud have liked.

"I love you, Psyche."

The words were sweet, but unheard as I sobbed in agony. Why? Why would he do this to me? I could feel the blood running like rivers across my skin, and a new knife was thrashed at me every time he moved. 'Aphrodite...' His hand moved to grip mine while the other pressed against my abdomine as I prayed silently.

'Hestia...Athena...'

'Artemis...'

'Hera...Anyone...PLEASE HELP ME!'

The volume of my sobs increased along with his pace. "Shhh..." He soothed softly into my ear. His breath was heavy with pleasure, and soft hair brushed against my cheek and neck. His hand then, and suddenly, moved from its position between my hip bones down across my skin to the space right above where he continuously impaled me. He groaned into my jawline as his fingers began rubbing. It started out faint but... What was this?

I new sensation joined the pain. I involuntarily moaned and arched my back into his hand; desprate for more pressure. He hissed against my neck and pressed down, choking a loud moan from my throat. I clutched at his shoulder with my avialable hand as something inside of me recoiled.

My husbend ran his lips from the line of my jaw to my throat and groaned my name. The pit of my stomach wound tighter and tighter with every moment, every touch. The pain seemed to slowly lose leverage against the pleasure, and my tears to moans. Now every movement sparked ecstasy, as the coil in my stomach wound tighter.

Soon, the coil had wound too tight for itself to bear, and it broke. I cried out as the most pleasure I had felt in my entire life crashed down on me all at once. Not so many moments later, my husbend slamed into me one last time before holding me as tightly to himself as he could while a searing hot filled my stomach. He rolled next to the spot next to me and pulled my back to his chest as he began to stroke my hair.

The extreme heat was not painful as I would have thought it to be. No, it was much more comforting. A gentle fire that warmed me from the inside out, soothing me and lulling me into sleep.

I opened my eyes. The water no longer steamed, reducing to a luke-warm state, and my fingers had begun to wrinkle. After drying and changing into fresh clothing, I ventured further into the house. There weren't all too many rooms, but the few it had were their own marvels. A library so full the words practly spilled from the paper and decorated the walls. The garden stretched on and on, mazes upon mazes of vines and flowers. I spent many hours wandering, only noticing how late it was when I realized the direction from which the son was facing me.

I ran back to the house, grabbing a quick meal of bread and goat's milk, before moving into the sitting room.

And waiting.