Raped and conquered

I'm sitting on the edge of my bed,
too tired to remove my clothes.
Too tired to brush my teeth.
I'm sitting on the edge of the bed,
eyeing the corner...

My body remembers. More than
my mind, my body remembers
the position, the pillows, the sense
of you behind me. The sense
of your erection. The sense
of an eye that is also a mouth
focused on the target,
focused on the entrance
that was meant to be an exit.

I shiver. And the portcullis drops. Small
protection against determination and right.
The troops have fled, the oil is cold, and
the castle herself is ambivalent.
Bring on your battering ram.
Splinter the oaken door.
Rape, pillage, despoil, humiliate -
it's all mere ritual. The kingdom was
conquered months before. This
is but the final proof.
You drag your royal captive
naked through the streets.
You drag her bare and weeping to
the crowded village square.
You chain her in position and
you flog her till she bleeds.
And then the final proof, the
final act, cruel and clear.
You fuck her like an animal,
out in the village square.
you pierce her virgin asshole,
you fuck her till she screams,
you use her like your whore
and then you toss her to your troops.

But late that night
battered
sore
soldiers' seed
spilling from each hole
she crawls back to the castle
scratches on the door
begs for admittance
begs for an audience
abdicates her crown
and pleads to serve her Lord.