Covet Not (40 page)

LXXI

TEXAS TRUTH

January
1, 2287, Vol. 1:1

Exposer
of Glass Houses

This has
been a long time coming. I hear whispers of wrongdoing. Of hypocrisy. Of abuse.

I am one
of the privileged, like so many other white men of considerable means. We can
ignore things. From the inside, it looks like we are quite the little utopia.

But it’s
on the backs of the ones we’re supposed to protect. And they are complicit.

Because
you can’t consider an option if it’s not on the table. You can’t see your cage
if you think the bars are there to protect you.

The
monsters are on the inside.

Look at
your daughters.

Look at
your mothers and your wives. 

But
what about our sons?

Yes, what
about them? Is it how we treat them like animals who can’t control their sexual
urges? Is it how we choose their brides because obviously they don’t need
anything more than an incubator?

What a
sad life. It took a while to believe it, but I am more than that. I am more
than a beast who takes and torments. But the tides are turning. It’s
inevitable.

A little
background is in order. There was a time, when we were members of a prosperous
United States of America when we were treated with respect. When mothers taught
their sons that they were not owed the body of a female without her express
permission.

Has your
wife ever told you ‘no’? If she did, what would you do? What would the husbands
of your daughters do?

Of
course, there was a faction of ignorant people who for whatever reason,
couldn’t abide such equality. Women drove, voted, worked, and dressed how they
wanted. Fucked who they wanted. And men were expected to respect them.

But
again, that small faction. They were loud, and obviously emasculated. They
continued to buy weapons, likely because they wouldn’t think of an alternative
to manliness. They didn’t buy these weapons to protect their families or homes.
They bought them because the government said you can have a civilized society
without them. They bought them because they felt useless without them.
Impotent.

Im. Po.
Tent. Literally. Figuratively. It didn’t matter. These men were the forefathers
of the new Texas. But, their sons and grandsons were more creative with their
thinking.

Because
as a species we crave conflict to overcome. Guns were no longer a battle. Land
was abundant and people were few. For a while, things were perfect, even as
social programs became scarce, people were allowed to leave, and others decided
to come try out the new Texas. After this, once citizenship was outlined, and our
Constitution was enacted, it should’ve been simple. It might’ve taken a bit
more time for Texas to be self-reliant, but it seemed to be an easy transition.

But there
are parts of Texas unseen by most of us, and I’ve heard whispers of silence
that chill me utterly.

Our own
military was created soon after secession. But no one came to fight us. No one
tried to tear down our walls. The men in power grew restless, and our women
paid the price.

It only
takes one generation to ignore lessons from the past. It takes two generations
to instill fear. By the third generation, women do what they’re told, because
they weren’t aware of any other way. And neither were the men.

And the
men in power were satisfied again.

Now that
we have two-hundred fifty years behind us, it’s hard to see how it had ever
been different.

But
there’s restlessness in the cities, it’s palpable. It’s history repeating
itself. As it does.

And
that’s when the men with the most muscle start to fuck up.

There’s
an interesting rumor floating around about a pious obnoxious boy from a family
who has been in power since secession. And by power, I mean Grandiose
Illusions. Which means the battle is already half won, but not in their favor.

This shit
is what I live for, no joke.

Have you
heard of Josiah Agnesson? Have you?

You’ve
certainly heard of the Agnesson’s, but Josiah is the middle son of a family
with far too many sons.

Well,
apparently, we’ve let him out. He went to New York City, the Devil’s own den
(or so it’s rumored), to spread the Good News.

How cute
is that?

And this
is where we see what we’ve done to the men in Texas. We’ve turned them into a
highball of weak tea steeped with the testosterone of a bull in heat.

We are
weak, so we are given even weaker partners.

Keyword:
Given.

So, let’s
see. The rumor is that Josiah can’t come back to Texas.

Because
he rejected Christ? No, no, that’s not it. At least I don’t think. I mean, it
could be true, but I have no evidence except for the photo I have.

Behaved
inappropriately with a woman? Oh, closer. Almost there!

Does it
matter? I don’t see why it would, but Josiah Agnesson, he’s where we need to
put our attention. He stepped foot on “foreign” soil and found a girl. One who
apparently has no qualms about taking charge if the photograph can be believed.

The
hypocrisy is staggering. I could respect him if he decided to stay away, to
stay with the woman, who by the looks of it, he’s immensely fond of.

But if he
comes back, sniveling about his weakness for that devil-woman, I’d rather that
woman eat him alive since she’s apparently capable of it. I’d love to see
images of that if anyone is listening.

Unless he
was married to her, he will never get to step foot back into Texas again. The
Agnesson name might get him back in, but only if he repented, and brought the
harlot back as his wife.

He would
be the man who saved the whore, and she’d be the deluded soul who worshiped the
man who saved her.

She would
always be the one at fault. If they had daughters, that curse would follow
them, possibly affecting any lucrative contracts.

Because
that’s all a daughter is worth.

I beg you
to hold your daughters close. And make your sons accountable.

When I
know more, y’all will be the first I tell. Keep an eye out. These are dangerous
times, and not just for our women.

Until
next time,

Poison
Pen
                                                                                      

LXXII

“I was thinking we could go
exploring today,” Raphe said at breakfast. Shula had finally emerged, and he
thought they would all need a bit of a distraction. He didn’t expect the women
to look utterly terrified, but he should’ve realized. “I can go get more food
if you don’t want to venture out yet.” It wouldn’t do to pressure them, but he
wanted them to see.

“Can we just
do that today? Just the market? If Shula would like to.” Clara looked over at
Shula, who shrugged after a few seconds, but she still looked apprehensive.

Raphe turned
toward Shula. “Aren’t you the one who gave Agnesson a giant ‘fuck you’ on your
wedding day?”

She nodded.
“I was only brave because I had meant to slash my wrists on our marriage bed. I
had nothing to lose.”

Clara sucked
in a breath.

Raphe leaned
back in his chair and twined his fingers at the back of his head. “And then you
would up in Jared’s bed instead. One moment you would be dead, but you earned a
reprieve. It probably took you forever to live completely after something like
that.”

Shula
inclined her head with a small nod. “I’m still learning. I don’t feel like I’ve
quite shaken it.”

“I imagine
not. I’m impressed that you had the mind to rebel.”

“I don’t know
that I was thinking of anything but the very end. I don’t think I’d be brave
enough for a long rebellion. Not alone, at least.” She frowned. “I don’t think
I’m as strong as Jared wants me to be. The day we married was me ready to die.”

“Because you
miss him? Because you’d rather be there to fight alongside him? I don’t think
he overestimates your strength. If anyone sees how strong you are, it’s going
to be him.”

“Then why
would he leave me if I’m so strong?” She thought she had understood. He meant
to keep her safe, but if she was capable of doing it herself, then why?

“I imagine
that it’s because you’re a distraction for him even though he may not see that.
A foolproof way of keeping you safe from Agnesson is to hide you where it will
be difficult to find you.”

“Are you both
a distraction for Jude?”

“I’m sure we
are.” He didn’t want to talk about why Agnesson would likely kill him on sight.
“And because they don’t have a plan, but just to wait and see, it’s better to
take us out of the equation. Because we don’t know what Agnesson will do. But
we do know that it would be horrible. We know that he would kill us all. We
also know that killing us would be the kindest thing he could do.”

Shula felt
like she was being saved from the river again. “I don’t know how to be away
from him.”

“I know. And
nights are hard enough, so let’s fill our days with new experiences.” Raphe
looked from Clara to Shula with a small smile. “Have you ever had Tequila?
It’ll change your life.” Raphe stood. “Let’s get dressed, catch a bus, and just
look at everything. I’ve never been, so I’m curious.”

Raphe:
I'm about to fuck your wife and there's
nothing you can do about it.

Jude:
Can I at least watch?

Raphe:
If you’d like. Where’s Jared?

Jude:
In his room. He’s in for the night.

Raphe:
Good. You’ll need to turn it down a
little, because the sounds that are about to come out of Clara’s mouth will
make your fist fly. Your underwear won’t stand a chance.

Jude:
You are so cruel. This is misery.

Raphe:
We could abstain if you’d prefer. But
that would be pretty horrible. And I would likely be angry at you forever.

Jude:
No abstaining. But maybe. I don’t know.
That still sounds cruel.

Raphe:
What does?

Jude.
You can’t fuck her ass.

Raphe:
Oh. I have underestimated you.

Jude:
I’m not trying to be mean.

Raphe:
I know. Okay. So, I won’t fuck her ass.
Which makes me really resourceful. I have fingers and a mouth.

Jude:
So, I might’ve made a mistake with this
request.

Raphe:
Yes. Huge mistake. I’m turning on the
camera now.

Raphe looked
up as Clara walked in the room. Her husband’s shirt swallowed her, but it’s a
comfort for the both of them. “Oh! Did you find the cream? I found the box on
the porch earlier and gave one to Shula and put one in our bathroom. I’m
surprised there isn’t some black market birth control cream dealers.”

Clara nodded.
“There might be. I’m not in a position to know. I remember Sophia said she’d
send some.”

“Did you use
it?” Raphe patted the bed next to him.

Clara nodded
again and scooted in close so Jude could see them both. Before she could greet
him, he moved in closer to the camera.

“I want you
to put me at the foot of the bed.”

The request
confused her, and the short sound Raphe made as he moved down confused her
further.

“I don’t want
either of you to talk. Kiss her Raphe.”

He put his
hands on Clara’s face and pressed his mouth against hers urgently.

“Oh fuck
this. I can’t do slow right now. Both of you take off your clothes. Quickly.
Clara, come a bit closer, but get on your hands and knees.” His voice shook a
bit at the end, once he’d pulled his dick out. “Shit. Fuck. Raphe! Get her wet.
Get her so wet. I want to hear it when you’re slamming into her. I want to
fucking smell it.” Jude couldn’t speak anymore. He closed his eyes to prevent
himself from coming. But they snapped back open when he heard the familiar
sound of his wife’s soaked pussy. And that was soon drowned out by their flesh
smacking together.

Jude felt
something warm hit his chin before his body seized in panicked pleasure. He
pressed his lips together, hoping nothing slipped. He looked back at the screen
and tried to catch his breath, but watching Raphe finish inside his wife didn’t
help him catch it.