Page 28 of Reign of the Queen
Moving to the juncture of this woman’s thighs and bare pussy, covered in bleeding cuts. Using my forefinger to rub her clit in a circular motion, the blood assisting in lubricating her, making my task less daunting. It doesn’t take her long to find a rhythm, undulating and pressing into my touch. I look away from my fingers on her clit, to her face and see her lips are open, shallow breaths escaping and her head is thrashing in passion rather than in pain, but her eyes are still firmly shut.
My other hand moves along the length of her body up to her breasts, nipples hardened and peaks extended, waiting to be plucked. I grab one of her firm mounds, riddled with welts and bruises, and squeeze firmly, leaving fingerprints of her blood on the surface. Bending my head to her chest, I take the opposite nipple into my mouth, lave it, and then bite down hard. She lets out a cry, a mixture of both pain and ecstasy at the sting.
My finger leaves her clit and wanders to her opening, moving rhythmically through her folds, lubricating her and my fingers. With her wetness coating my fingers, I drive two of them into her, gently allowing her to adjust to my filling of her channel, then I add a third finger. Her hips are undulating restlessly, moving slightly off the table as much as she can with the cords still holding her legs and arms strapped to the table legs. A low moan leaves her mouth, and I almost forget that I am not supposed to be enjoying this.
“Fuck her hard, you worthless piece of shit!” my father yells from behind me, breaking the spell we were under. Picking up a floor lamp and throwing it in our direction. I shift my back just in time to take the brunt of the lamp base hurling toward us. It bounces off my back with a thick thud and shatters, no doubt leaving a massive bruise that will be present tomorrow.
I use my other hand to unfasten my belt, pulling it from the loops of my pants; once it’s free, I wrap it around the young woman’s neck, tightening it but allowing her to still breathe semi-normally. Her hand, which is strapped nearest to me, reaches up blindly and attempts to unbutton my pants and pull my zipper down, but I move away from her touch. Feeling into my back pocket for a condom, pulling it out. I again look down at the young woman and mouth, “Yes?”
She lets out a deep moan, nods, and again tries to reach for my zipper by pulling on her bindings. Unbuttoning my slacks and pulling my zipper down, I pull out my hard cock to stroke. Even with her hands firmly tied, she tries to reach for me and give me a stroke from root to tip.
I move away from her touch, tearing the condom wrapper and sheathing myself quickly. Then, I position myself at her bloodied and soaked entrance with my pants just below my ass. I use one hand to grab onto her hip and the other to pull slightly on the belt around her throat. Entering her with enough force to impale myself in one go and shift the whole table, which threatens to topple with our combined weight. She lets out a profoundly pained moan, and I can’t help the grunt that tears from my throat.
I don’t wait for her body to accommodate mine, the need to dominate, fuck her hard and spill my seed, strong. I pound into her so hard that our skin makes loud smacking noises on connection, and I can feel her trying to brace each time I bottom out inside of her. I’m hitting the end of her and probably bruising her cervix with every long, deep stroke. The wood table groans with our combined weight and rough motion of my deep, punishing strokes. Heat rises up my spine as her warm pussy grips my cock in its firm grip. I look down at my sheathed cock as I pull out to the tip and see blood streaked across my hard dick. The sight makes a groan leave my lips and I pound into her harder.
I close my eyes, picturing that it’s Mia I am ruthlessly slamming into, her skin that I am marring with my firm hold on her hips, her neck that my belt is tightening around. I bend my head forward to catch a hard nipple in my mouth and bite down on the flesh of the mound, causing the female below me to scream out and clench my cock in a tight embrace. The tight glove of her pussy has sweat breaking out across my back and forehead. I bite down hard on my lip to prevent the moans that try to escape my lips.
She’s so wet that I can hear my balls slapping as they hit her pussy every time I push inside. After a few more hard thrusts, I’m cumming inside her, my breath catching in my throat. I reach down and pinch her clit hard, and it instantly pushes her over the edge and into a painful orgasm. When her body stops contracting and I can catch my breath, I swipe my forearm across my forehead to wipe away the sweat that’s trickling down the side of my face.
I pull out, holding on to the condom, quickly removing and tying it off and putting it in my pocket. No way would I leave that lying around for my psycho of a father to use against me at a later date. I wouldn’t even put it past him to use my cum to impregnate some random and use it to control me.
Reaching over and untying the blonde’s legs and then arms, the table creaks with her movement. I’m surprised the table legs didn’t give out with how hard I was fucking her. The hair stands on the back of my neck and I feel movement behind me as my dad slow claps, the psychopath. “There he is, a Saint-Lambert after all.” I grab the girl by the neck, unbuckle my belt, and pull her off the table, where she falls hard to her knees on the floor.
“Get out of here now, whore!” I push her slightly with my foot and nod toward the door.
She doesn’t need to be told twice. She half-crawls, half-stumbles, moving quickly toward the door and around my father. At the door, we both wait to see if he will stop her from leaving. When he doesn’t make a sound, I nod toward the door, and she quickly disappears through it.
“I won’t warn you again, Theodore. Keep disappointing me, and I will enslave you like that whore to be used by anyone at my discretion.” He turns on his heels and heads toward the door, stopping just shy of clearing it with his back turned to me. “Don’t forget you and your fellow kings have a job to do for me at the warehouse tonight. Try not to screw that up too, Theodore.” He walks out the door, taking all the evil energy out of the room with him.
When he’s no longer in the room, I brace myself on the table, my legs weak, my breath still coming in rasps, and I shake my head. “One day I’m gonna murder you, you sick fuck,” I whisper. That day can’t come soon enough.
The sound of grunting greets my ears as I enter the darkened warehouse. The scent of hard packed dirt, stale, and dampness assault my nostrils. Turning the corner, I spy Carter standing in the large, open space, a few bare lightbulbs hanging above him, barely giving off enough light to penetrate the cold concrete walls and the gloom which encases them. Carter rears back and hits the guy confined to the chair across the face with a closed fist. Finn’s standing behind the chair and holding the guy by the back of his hair in a tight grip, not allowing him to dodge the blows that Carter's raining down on him.
Mateo leans against the far wall, a look of distaste across his features. I know he doesn't particularly like watching violence, much preferring to be an active participant. I worry about him, lately his headspace hasn’t been the greatest. He’s having a lot more panic attacks. He tries to hide them, but I see through all of those smoke and mirrors he puts up. I’m going to have to try to convince him to talk to someone.Maybe we could get him some meds or something to help?
A sharp cry breaks me from my thoughts.
"Did you enjoy touching her cocksucker?" Finn yanks mercilessly on the guy's hair, causing his neck to strain backward at an odd angle.
Strolling closer, Carter looks up noticing that I’m here. He rubs his hands together, lets out a deep chuckle and both sides of his lips tilt. I should be worried that Carter enjoys this so much, but I’m not, preferring to allow him his fun whenever possible.
"This is him?" I question, bringing my hand up to grip the man's chin, forcing his eyes to dart up at me.
Finn nods and releases the guy's hair, stepping back and crossing his large arms across his broad chest, a scowl across his mouth. Finn’s the tallest and broadest of the four of us. He doesn’t enjoy participating in these tasks my father sets out for us, but I think he’s making an exception with this one.
I look closely at Blair Ecks, the third. He looks like a regular college prep douche in his blue button-down shirt and beige khaki pants; like he just stepped out of an ad for the Gap or something. He might have been good-looking before he got here, with his all-American boy next door looks, but it appears the boys have been enjoying their time with him. His nose is all swollen, bloodied and probably broken. Blood trails down one nostril, his left eye is swollen shut, and his upper lip is busted open and bleeding.
"Do you know why you're here, Blair?" Bending my knees and shifting my body closer until I'm in his direct line of vision.
"Fuck you." Blair spits blood at me, and it lands on my black shirt.
Grabbing him around the throat, I squeeze tightly, cutting off his airway until he starts to turn a shade of purple. "Do you think it wise to antagonize me, Blair? You already touched something that wasn't yours."
Blair sputters and gasps for breath, his eyes straining and filled with fear.
Releasing my grip on his neck I pull the knife from the back pocket of my black jeans. Running the blade down the side of his face and stopping at his nostril. "You knew she wasn't yours when you touched her." I slice across the side of his nostril, blood rushing down his face. "You knew she belonged to the Saint-Lamberts when you took her." I slice down his other nostril.
A high-pitched scream escapes him and he tries to pull from the bindings that are tying him to the chair, which is bolted to the small concrete pad on the floor. His straining is getting him nowhere. The chains around his arms and legs are too thick, causing his many injuries to bleed and exhaust him.
