The Mafia's Mom

Chapter 8. The children

-Grace-

--- Warning ---

This chapter contains domestic violence and s****l oppression. This can be offensive or you can be triggered by this. If you don't want to read this, I advise you to move on to the next chapter.

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"Marcel?"

I visit him during the day, in his office, in our house. I know this is a thing. He hates it when I disturb him. I can only come to him if he has called me.

"Come in."

I open the door of his office and his eyes go right over my body.

"What is it?" he asks and I take a deep sigh.

"I have to go to the doctor this afternoon."

"Why?"

He slides his chair back and I walk toward him. It has become a routine.

It's just the question, what does he want?

"Bend over my desk."

I do what he asks. No idea what he's going to do next.

Then I hear his belt. "Marcel please don't do this."I stop him. He looks at me angrily. "The doctor."

"I can't f*ck you on my desk because you need to go to the doctor? What should you go for?"

"I haven't had my period for four months," I answer and he closes his pants. He pulls me onto his lap.

"Why are you only saying that now?"

"I didn't think about it, I thought it might be stress, but I've been nauseous and tired for a month," I tell everything honestly because I will soon have to do the same at the doctor's office and there is no way Marcel will wait outside.

"Why are you only telling me that now!" he roars. He grabs my chin hard when I want to look away. "Well!?"

"Because if I told you I was tired, you told me not to get dressed, that if I had to throw up you didn't want to see me or hear me," I answer.

He lets go of my chin and he sighs. "I also thought you were overreacting."

He strokes the hairs over my shoulder. "What time?"

"In half an hour."

"Let's go, then we'll go out to dinner."

"Really?"

"Baby, I have told you so many times, that if you take good care of me, then I will take good care of you and it is my job to take good care of you. That's what I do."

We sometimes disagree on this, but I will leave it at that.

This is the Marcel I want, the Marcel to whom I have given my heart. The sweet tough man.

"Come, we'll go."

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During the first Pregnancy, Marcel was the sweetest man ever. He did a lot for me and I didn't have to do as much. He was the Marcel I fell in love with. He went everywhere with me. We went together to buy things for the baby. Gave me a baby shower and everything my heart desired. Love was also part of it.

Watching a movie together, eating in restaurants, walks through the park.

But as soon as the doctor declared me healthy three months after the birth of James, our son, the rules came back and that same night we had s*x.

He was demanding and heavy-handed again. No more cleaning lady, I had to cook myself again. Not that that's all bad, absolutely not.

But if there is dust somewhere, mess in the house or the food is not ready on time, or it's ready too early or too late, it ends in me or on my knees with a d*ck in my mouth or on my knees with a d**k in my p***y, after I have received a big spanking, harder then he ever did before.

He is also attentive and sweet if everything goes according to plan, but being sixteen, doing school at home, and having a baby is quite tough.

James was no longer allowed by Marcel to breastfeed after four months because Marcel wanted 'his' breasts back.

And when I told him that I hadn't gotten my period again, it ended in a fight, which ended as everything ended. With me on my knees. The doctor told me to give it time because it was too soon to tell.

So when we went to the doctor again, I turned out to be pregnant with a second one. Marcel was not enthusiastic. Until he heard that it was a boy. That's what he wanted.

And this pregnancy was also perfect for me. I had few complaints and Marcel was my Marcel again, loving, warm, and caring.

He spent time with me, but also with James. Went out of bed in the middle of the night to give James a bottle so I could sleep.

But then he changed back again.

Demanding, even more than before. It seemed as if the more children there were, the higher he set the bar.

I did my best to comply with everything and often managed to live up to his image. Which made our marriage easier.

After I gave birth, to our son Thomas, I went on the pill.

Marcel refused the snip, it was my job to make sure that I would not get pregnant again, according to him. He refused condoms and I didn't want to be helped with my body. So the pill would be it.

Marcel didn't like my breasts anymore, he thought his children had sucked the beauty out of them and so I went to a plastic surgeon to have my breasts done.

Marcel wanted to determine the size, but the doctor did not allow him to do so. I had to choose for myself and I wanted to follow the doctor's advice. So we did.

In the end, Marcel was satisfied with the result and that was what it was all about. Everything to keep Marcel happy.

The parties started to come again, but I couldn't stay away at night. I wanted to go home for the kids. To the annoyance of Marcel, who clearly showed that, with his hands.

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"Mommy!"

"James, quiet!"

I look at Marcel, who commands James.

"Mom is busy. She'll come in a minute." He calls and he pushes my head back down.

"Good girl." Marcel pulls me onto his lap when he is done. "F**k there's nothing like your lips around my d*ck when I'm working."

"Marcel." I sigh. I don't dare, but I know I have to.

"What's wrong sweetheart?"

"I have to go to the doctor."

"For what?"

"I think I'm pregnant."

He gets up with me and looks at me furiously.

"Mommy!!" James calls again.

"Go see what he wants you to do and then come back."

Marcel rubs his hair and I quickly walk out of the office.

"What's up sweetheart," I ask my 7-year-old son James.

"Thomas scratches in my books." He sighs and points to his younger brother who also tries to color with a pen.

I organize other things at the table, and explain to both boys what they can do and that I have to discuss something with their father. Both my boys nod and I go back to Marcel.

He is furious.

"HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE!" He roars and he grabs me hard.

"Marcel, please." He lets go of me, but his gaze is still ferocious.

"How Grace!"

"I think you know how, but only Doctor Rossi can confirm that," I answer and he shakes his head.

"Do you already have an appointment?"

I shake my head.

"I wanted to say it to you first. The children can't come along, they'll talk to everyone at school."

"I call Rossi, we're going today. And prepare yourself if it's nothing, it's your turn tonight."

I nod and leave the office.

With the hope that my feeling is correct and the tests that I have had William buy are correct.

Marcel has changed his way of punishing. It's not as simple as sitting on my knees with a pink ass. Nowadays, his punishment lasts all night and I am also on my knees, but I am also tied up on the bed. Just Like Peter did to me.

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That same afternoon we are with Doctor Rossi, who indeed confirms that I am pregnant, for almost four months. But because I had no complaints, I never thought it was so before. My body changed and then I pretended it wasn't for another two months. Afraid of Marcel's reaction.

"How can this be Rossi, Grace is on the pill." For everyone to hear clearly that Marcel is not happy with this.

"Yeah well, there are multiple explanations for this. Grace, has there been a moment three and a half months ago when you might have been sick, had to throw up, stomach flu?"

I look at Marcel with an oblique eye. He will now also know when it happened. "Or that you couldn't take it?"

I nod.

"There was one night when I was nauseous and did throw up," I tell him. That's all I want to say to Rossi.

"Then the effect is immediately less and there is a risk of pregnancy."

We get the picture and we go home. But when Marcel starts yelling at me in the car, I'm taking my chances.

"No, Marcel! This is not my fault and you don't make me feel guilty about this either! This is your fault, completely!!" I snarl and he grabs me hard.

"And why is that!!"

"I told you that night that I wasn't feeling well, but you thought I shouldn't be a b*tch and you thought I lied to you. To a lot of people, that is called rape Marcel. I had to throw up, several times. You know that! That's why you didn't want to look at me. Because you thought it was gross. When I spoke to you, you hit me, so hard."

Tears run down my cheeks and Marcel stops. He pulls me onto his lap.

"You were never supposed to fall against the closet and go knocked out." He whispers.

I woke up in the hospital and it turned out that I had been knocked out for a day and a half. With the night before that I probably threw out my pill, I didn't get a pill in the hospital. Made me have nothing for four days.

When the doctor, not Rossi, but the hospital, said I was okay to go home, Marcel thought we had four days to catch up on and I didn't leave the bedroom for two days. So he knows when it happened and he knows it's his fault.

"Sorry Grace, I'll take care of you. I'm sorry."

That's how it always goes and then he's the Marcel I want to see again. Loving and warm.

And when I see him later that night putting the kids to bed, which never happens, and we're in the bath together, which also never happens, and he makes love to me for the first time in ages, I know again why I'm still with him. Despite everything.