Page 38 of Obsessed Kings

"Rapunzel." Rina’s voice draws me out of the bathroom where I’m crying in my diamond necklace. "Let down your hair, babe."

I stumble to my bedroom window, then gaze at the figure on the sidewalk. "You’re early."

"I’m also sweating my tits off. I need to splash some water on my pits in your bathroom and take a piss. And, I’ve got a tampon to change, so hurry up and let me in."

"One second. I have to untie my hair."

Rina glares at me. "I’m going to piss my pants."

Am I like Rapunzel? As I glance around my new penthouse, complete with servants and luxury furniture, I can’t help but think that I am in a twisted, sick way. Rapunzel wasn’t locked up like some little bird that can’t spread her wings. She defied her evil captor, slipping out of her tower and running off her with her prince.

My three princes are nothing like Rapunzel’s.

Mine yank my hair where they should place my crown.

Mine fuck my ass where they should help me into a regal ballgown.

Mine call me a slut and make me come like their little whore.

I close my window, then head to the front door to buzz Rina into the building. The way that Colt, Brock, and Rook took me two weeks ago when they moved me into this place was too much. I expected them to be gentle, to change for the better now that they’d claimed me as their girl.

I was wrong.So fucking wrong.

My Kings treated me even rougher. They held me in their firm hands, refusing to let me get away as they spread my legs. Rook’s cock in my throat left me unable to eat solid food for five days and Colt’s cock in my virgin asshole was too much. I couldn’t sit down, could barely use the restroom, and needed to sleep with a heating pad.

I haven’t spoken to any of them since. I assumed they’d be in the penthouse day and night, using me like their toy.I consented when I came and secretly liked it even though I couldn’t admit it to myself.

They’ve been avoiding my calls. I don't know what stings worse, their cocks or their coldness. The least they could’ve done was take me to my new bedroom, kiss every inch of my defiled body, and hold me against their firm chests while rocking me to sleep.

I used to read about men doing that in romance novels as a little girl. Nate thought those books were stupid, and he had no qualms about telling me so. Looking back, I wish I’d rammed my paperbacks in his face and told him to keep his crap to himself. That’s what guys are always doing, picking on girls, and telling them what they should or shouldn’t like. As if they have such great taste and need to "educate" a girl on what’s good or not. Half the time, all they do is come home from work, collapse on the couch, and play video games while kicking their feet up and glaring at you until you get them a few beers. That’s what Nate did at least when I was in my senior year of high school.

Nate. It’s been over two weeks since I last spoke to him. Briefly, I consider whether I should reach out to ask for help. He has no idea that I’ve moved into this wonderful penthouse or that I’m being treated like a captive. But I don't want to speak to my stepbrother, especially because of the awful vibes that I get. One conversation gone wrong would be enough to ruin my whole day, and I want to protect my mind after the shit that I went through with Colt, Brock, and Rook.

I want nothing to do with them.

I want them to use me again.

I wish they’d leave me alone.

I wish they’d come back for more.

I hope they die.

I hope they fuck me so hard I scream.

I don't know what’s wrong with me. I’m sick in the head, or at least willing to accept behavior that most girls wouldn’t. I studied powerful women in high school, so I know what’s right from wrong. I know that girls should tell on boys who hurt them the way that the Kings of the Sinners hurt me, that they shouldn’t let anyone force them to walk around with ice packs or only eat liquid meals for a week.

Esmeralda understands my plight. She comforts me when she brings me my chicken noodle soup, telling me that the wounds will heal eventually. She’s known love in her life, true love with a husband who passed away ten years ago, and she shows me pictures of when they lived in Estonia together. I know nothing about Estonia, so I listen as she tells me about the little house she owned on a farm in a small village, feeding her chickens every day, and making her husband meals. Then, her husband got into trouble with the Estonian Mafia and they were sent to New York to be slaves.How she wound up working for Colt, Brock, and Rook, I don't know. She suggested that she knows Colt’s father, but she wouldn’t tell me more.

I asked Esmerelda if it was normal for men to treat women like that. She looked at theSlutnecklace around my neck and said that women likemereap what they sow. That made it sound like I was taking for it. I wanted to protest, to tell her that I wasn’t a slut, that Colt, Brock, and Rook are destroying my innocence with every passing day, but I shut my mouth. I had a feeling she wouldn’t listen.

I should tell Colt, Brock, and Rook to fuck off and never speak to me again. I wouldn’t give a fuck if they kicked me to the streets. I’d be better off rummaging for scraps in garbage bins and wearing rags than subjecting myself to the torture they put me through.

A tingle works up my spine when I think of this torture, and I punch my arm to stop myself from replaying the scene from two weeks ago. Each man was so feral in his own way, so unwilling to stop. Rook rammed his cock down my throat like he knew I didn’t want to eat solid food after all, that he was helping me jumpstart my new liquid diet. Brock ate my pussy out good as hell. And Colt. He fucked my ass in a way that preserved my innocence while giving himself something that he desired above all. Part of me that I wouldn’t hand to just any man. If any other man asked to fuck my ass, I’d ask them if they were crazy. What kind of porn do they watch? Most men don't request that girls do that. With Colt, I know that his powerful cock is the only way to make me submit to him. I don't listen like he needs me to, and fucking my ass is what he must do to get me to behave.

I’ll learn to make them happy. Learn to be the girl they need me to be.

Rina knocks on my door. "They let me in the elevator without a bellhop. You’d better believe I flipped off the hidden cameras and drew my initials with lipstick."

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