Wedding night - virgin bride tries to say no but is forced
'Roman Discipline' by Rod Caine, from Stern Publications
http://www.a1adultebooks.com/sternpub.htm

Chapter 1: Wedding Night

It was a good marriage for both families. Each had something the other
coveted: the Manlii had wealth, and the Martii had respectability. The
Martii were old Patrician stock, but with the stormy fortunes of the
years their fortunes had slowly dwindled. Flavius Manlius, by
contrast, was a man of huge wealth but low birth. At the age of thirty-
four, Flavius Manlius was a battle-scarred veteran with a string hard-
fought victories to his name. Now, a marriage between Manlius a girl
of high Patrician birth like Caia Martia would make a formidable
match. With the wealth of the Manlii, a father who was a celebrated
and faithful soldier, and the pedigree of the Martii, there might be
no limit to how far their future sons could climb.

No-one had asked Caia Martia how she felt about the union. A Patrician
girl was expected to obey her father's commands for the good of the
family. If that meant marrying a man fifteen years her senior, so be
it. Now she was in her dressing room, being prepared by giggling
maids. They seemed to think that she was in for a night of the wildest
pleasure. But Caia looked forward to the coming consummation with no
girlish excitement.

She thought about all that had happened today. They had been married,
and then there had been the feast. She had sat demurely while her new
husband acted uproariously, laughing coarsely with his fellow soldiers
as they drowned themselves in wine. She hoped that he might fall into
a stupor, but his capacity for drink seemed endless. The lake of wine
he had imbibed seemed to have no effect on him, except perhaps to make
him even more loutish.

The maids bathed Caia, dried her and dressed her hair. They perfumed
her and then slipped a fine robe onto her arms, so thin that it was
almost transparent. Finally they wrapped a band around her middle,
dyed a vivid red, to hold the robe closed. It had no other fastening.
The red band was supposed to represent her maiden virtue. Her husband
would undo it and open her robe, a symbol of his loosening the bonds
of her girlhood. And she was supposed to lie quiet and obedient as he
did so: so Caia's mother had instructed her.

When Caia was dressed, the maids conveyed her to the nuptial chamber.
They gave her their giggling congratulations, and then withdrew,
joking with each other. The room was lit by lamps. Its centrepiece was
a bed, with a large square of white linen laid on its covers. Caia
stood nervously, hands playing together like frightened animals.

The door opened and her husband half-fell in through it. There was a
burst of oafish laughter from outside, from several throats. 'Don't
worry, you sons of whores!' shouted Flavius Manlius happily to whoever
was outside. 'You'll get to see it soon enough! Now I've got business
to attend to, so keep your noise down!' He slammed the door shut, and
turned to face her.

'Caia,' he said. He grinned and licked his lips, then stripped off his
toga to reveal a simple tunic underneath, held in place with a leather
belt. 'Caia,' he repeated. 'What a lovely girl you are. Let me have a
look at you.' He advanced on her in a slight crouch, the crouch a
hunter would use when advancing on his prey and she drew back,
flattening the palms of her hands across her chest and belly in
instinctive fear.

'Caia,' he said again, more obviously drunk now. 'You're so pretty,
Caia. So shy.' He grinned, and it was the deranged grin of some mad
beast, some demon from her nightmares. She felt the wall against her
bottom and her back, and realised that she had been retreating.
'Whenever I look at you, Caia, you always drop your eyes and blush,'
he said quietly, almost whispering. 'That's nice. It's how a Roman
maiden should behave. Stately. The blushing bride. You know how I feel
about you, Caia,' he said, smiling, as if trying to encourage an
unwilling child. 'I'm so lucky to have a girl like you. So pretty. So
noble. You're the perfect wife, Caia.' He put a hand out and his
fingertips touched her forearm. She made a tiny, high-pitched sound in
her throat and shrank further back into the wall.

'Don't be scared, Caia,' he said. 'I'm not going to hurt you. It's
time for you to...' he chuckled to himself, without finishing the
sentence. His eyes were glittering darkly. She could smell wine on his
breath, and the musk of his body, the sweat of hard merrymaking. Her
eyes were locked on his face.

'At the feast,' he said, almost whispering, 'you didn't join in the
fun. You sat there, quiet. Like a queen. And whenever I looked at you,
you blushed and looked down. But you're not looking down now, are you
Caia? You can't take your eyes off me now, can you? Now we're alone,
Caia. You don't have to act any more. You don't have to play the
proper Roman noblewoman. Come on. There's another part for you to play
tonight.'

His fingertips ran along her arm, brushing her skin through the
terribly thin robe she wore. His hand reached her wrist, and his
fingers closed around it. 'Come with me, Caia,' he whispered, pulling
her hand toward him. Caia tried to pull her arm away, but her strength
was nothing to the steely muscles in his battle-hardened body. 'Come
on,' he said. 'Don't be scared. Don't be shy. It's time for you to be
a woman, Caia. You're my queen. And I'm your king. Now come with me
and be a woman for me.'

Flavius stepped back, pulling her after him, gently but firmly. Caia's
arm was pulled out straight to its full extent, and then he was
dragging her away from the wall. A whine escaped her as he did so.
'What's wrong?' he said. Consternation suddenly clouded his features.
'Come with me, Caia. You're my wife now. It's time. It's time for you
to be mine.' He gave a tug on her arm, less gentle than before.

'Please,' she blurted. 'Please, no, please...'

'What? No?' he asked, seeming confused. 'What do you mean, no?'

'Please!' The word burst from her, a shout of desperation. 'Please...
I can't - you can't -' she stuttered, words emerging from her mouth
without thought, without even intending to speak.

'I can't what?' he asked. He sounded as though he had been insulted.
'You are my wife, Caia. It's my right to take you, and my duty. And
it's your duty to obey. Now come with me.' He pulled on her arm
roughly now, dragging her toward the bed.

'No!' she cried pathetically, begging. 'No, please! No, don't! I can't
bear it!'

'Come on now,' said her husband. He was beside the bed. Caia Martia
was as far from him as she could be, one arm stretched toward him.
'Don't worry, Caia. You're in the hands of an expert. I know just how
to treat girls like you.' He gave her arm a savage pull, and a dull
cry of shock came from her throat as she stumbled toward him. She fell
to her knees, and Flavius Manlius darted forward to grab her before
she knew what was happening, his hands seizing her arms just below the
shoulders and gripping her flesh like merciless iron bands. Caia cried
out again at that biting grasp, and her cry became a long wail of
fear.

'Nnnnaaaa - aaaaahh - no no, please! No, please, I beg you -' she
found words as he forced her onto the bed, pressing her back.

'Don't you say no to me!' snapped her husband. 'Being shy is one
thing, but I don't take disobedience from anyone under me! Now you're
mine, and you're going to do as I tell you - one way or another!' He
leant over her, his face above hers, his hands pressing her arms down
into the bed. She was half on and half off it, legs trailing on the
floor. Flavius wrestled her up onto the bed, trying to position her on
the white square of linen. He seemed to think it important for some
reason.

'I know how to deal with girls like you,' he said. 'I've had to deal
with your sort before. You'll soon fall in line when I've taught you a
lesson. Now stop struggling and be good, or you'll find out what
that's like!' But his new bride carried on thrashing about in his
grip, wailing and blurting words and half-coherent pleas. Flavius
pulled her arms behind her back and wrapped a single strong hand
around both wrists. Then he brought out his right hand and touched her
face with it. Caia turned her head aside in disgust. Flavius ran his
hand down her body to her chest then let it linger there, stroking her
through the fine weave of her virginal gown.

'Now come on, Caia. Be good. I'm your king now. And you're my subject.
You have to do what I want. So behave yourself and obey me. Be
dignified, Caia. Like you were before. I admired that, Caia. Try to
act like that again. Like a queen. Regal. Stately. That's how you
should be. Calm down and do as I tell you. You just lie back and enjoy
it...' He lowered his hand, stroking it over her twisting belly until
his it reached the cord which held her gown together, the cord which
represented her virginal bonds. Slowly he started to undo the knot.
Caia tried to pull her lower body aside, dragging it away with her
legs. But Flavius grabbed her thigh with his free hand and hauled it
back into place, then put his own knee on her leg to hold it in place.

He returned his hand to the knot, and loosed it without hurry. Then he
took hold of her robe. He slowly drew the thin material aside, sliding
it over her delicate pale skin. When he had drawn the last scrap of
covering from her body, Flavius Manlius slowly looked his prize up and
down. His new wife's hair was yellow as a field of ripe wheat, as a
noble Roman's should be. That hair had been dressed prettily by her
house-slaves, but during her struggles it had gone awry and was now
strewn loose about her head in disarray. That golden hair framed a
fine-boned face that could have been haughty, but was now distorted
with fear, the eyes glistening with moisture as she fought feebly
beneath him. Manlius had seen that look in the eyes of so many girls
in towns he had sacked, girls who had tried but failed to escape him,
and had been forced to endure his attentions. Now he saw the same look
in the eyes of his bride, and it roused his passions, stirring him
until his manhood was hard as Roman steel, standing proud and stiff as
a stallion's member.

His eyes ran down her body further. Below her mouth, which worked at
silently half-forming words, was a slender neck. On her chest rose two
sweetly curved globes, pointed with dark nipples. Her belly was a
smooth expanse of marble, but rippled like water as her muscles
twitched without coordination in a delirium of fear. Then, lower down,
was the real treasure, her temple, concealed by a thick field of wheat
as golden as that on her head. His eyes ran up again, searching out
the curves of her waist, delighting in its graceful shape. His hand
touched her above the navel, fingers just teasing her skin, and she
gasped and sucked her belly in. Flavius chuckled and brushed his hand
slowly down, down toward the most precious part of her virginal body.
His fingers ran over the silky whiteness of her still unknown flesh,
feeling the light dew of sweat that had arisen there. They reached her
cornfield, and felt the swell of her Venerean mound. Those fingers
roamed further down, seeking the hidden place of her chaste virtue.
Caia's throat had been locked solid with terror, leaving her silent,
but now a grinding, choking sound escaped her. Her body heaved under
him, exerting all her strength to try to get away, but it was no use.
Her husband was too strong. Flavius had his knee on her right leg; her
left jerked up, almost to her belly, to try to cover her maidenhood.
Flavius laughed, grabbed that leg with a grip like iron and forced it
aside. In a lithe motion he shifted his own legs over her trapped
right one, and suddenly Caia found that he was kneeling on the bed
between her thighs. He was bent forward over her, his left hand still
behind her back to clasp her wrists together.

Caia desperately tried to close her legs, but her brutal husband's
muscular body was between them. She let out a long wail, too terrified
to form words, and her body thrashed on the bed while her legs kicked
up and down, seeking some way of closing, rubbing their inner surfaces
feverishly against the sides of his body. Manlius reached between his
own legs and lifted his tunic, taking hold of his spear, which was
throbbing now, aching with desire and stiff with power. Shifting his
legs he lowered his body down, and Caia felt the tip of his hot flesh
prod into the arch where her left leg met her body.

'Nooooo!!!' she shrieked, suddenly finding words in her delirium of
nightmarish fear. 'You can't - don't - p-please, no!!'

'You want it really,' grunted Manlius. Over the years, he had said
that to so many girls in the same situation. His weapon poked about
until it found the entry it sought...

Read more at http://www.a1adultebooks.com/sternpub.htm

I dont doubt they see a lot.  And probably replace a lot.

Apparently a lot of replacement radiators are junk, from some previous
posts here.  Radiator repair can also be junk, but done professionally
it can be good.

A lot depends upon what you can, and are willing to, pay for.