Page 12 of His Stolen Bride

A short stream of curses escaped her lips as he breached her asshole just before his knuckles. She yanked at the restraint, struggled against him and begged him, but she never got further than the word please, so she had no idea what she was begging him to do. Stop? Don’t stop?

“Elliot.” His name slipped from her mouth. Every inch of her skin sizzled. She saw stars behind her closed eyes. She had no idea she could become so wet.

“Obey me,” he demanded. His fingers pushed in a little deeper. “I don’t want to have to hurt you. Not that way. Now obey me, princess.”

“Oh god, please stop. I can’t stand this anymore. Please stop, I hate… I hate it—”

“You hate this?” He probed her a little further. Her body wasn’t meant for this. Yet her clit ached with such ferocity nothing mattered but her trying to close her legs to ease the wild and uncensored sensations ruining her.

A man she didn’t know at all, had only met a few hours ago had turned her onto his lap, spanked her, ripped her only pair of panties to shreds and then put his fingers, now knuckle deep, into her asshole in an act so devastatingly dark and deviant he had aroused her. Aroused her against her will.

“Elliot, please…. Please…”

“Is that why you’re so wet?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “I can smell your sweet hot wet little pussy, Princess.”

“I’m not. I’m not wet,” she screeched, determined to deny it until her last breath.

He released the arm around her waist.

Her eyes widened in despair. A groan of sheer misery dropped from her lips. She gritted her teeth together. Wrecking sobs vibrated through her whole body.

Elliot had reached for a bolster pillow and slid it between her thighs. The cover on the pillow was black velvet and cemented her horror.

Chapter Seven

Vivian strained up on her knees. Her body grew rigid. There was only a tiny inch separating her soaked pussy from the pillow.

She reduced her breaths to shallow agonized pants.

“Please don’t do this,” she pleaded shamelessly. He didn’t listen to her.

His fingers moved inside her asshole. The only lubricant he had allowed her was when he had sucked his fingers. He intended to teach her a lesson, make her obey him. He wanted her to hurt this way and he achieved his desire with brilliance.

The blistering hot stretch of her virgin hole surpassed her pain threshold. He wanted to punish her for trying to take his gun and use it on him, but her pride… her pride wouldn’t allow her to concede to him.

“Obey me, Princess,” he said, sliding the pillow against her thighs. The velvet covering was both a source of luxury on the skin of her inner thighs and also a loaded weapon he was using against her.

His breath feathered against the side of her throat. He pushed closer to her. She moaned in defeat when the clear hardened outline of his cock, his length, and thickness scaring her and increasing her wetness still the same pressed against the back of her thigh.

Her body caved before her mind did. He curled his arm around her waist once more. She died when his thumb stroked the nipple on her left breast. Both her bra and his T-shirt couldn’t conceal the pebble hardness swaying into his touch.

“You can’t take the full length of my fingers inside your tight virgin asshole, not without lube and not without me tearing you apart. Princess. But I will if I have to…”

There was something inherently wrong with her. Maybe she had always had these deviances locked inside her, but his words brought her to her knees. A single tortuously long wail echoed around the room. It took her moments to realize it had come from her.

The ominous sensations he evoked inside her surpassed her pride. How could this degree of humiliating torment make her crave the thick hotness of his cock inside her? She was still a virgin. How could she know what she wanted?

Nothing mattered though.

He beat her. He annihilated her. He took her pride and squashed it under his handmade shoes, showcasing how superior to her he was.

She had failed herself.

“I won’t ever try to take your gun off you. I won’t…I promise. Elliot, I won’t…”

She gave him what he wanted because her body couldn’t take anymore. But she hadn’t forecast the bizarre coldness she’d feel when he released her and untied her.

There was also no hiding the silky, sticky stain she had left on the inky dark fabric of the cushion. Evidence abound of how wet she had been. She went up in flames yet again when Elliot picked up the cushion. His fingers swiped through the copious amount of wetness. Denying it wouldn’t have changed a thing.

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