by Zoe Blake
“It’s too late, baby girl. You wanted the beast. Now you’ve got him.”
His arm shot out and snatched me by the front of my dress.
“Don’t!” I screamed.
Too late. He tore the bespoke garment from my body, shredding the delicate tulle material. Large embroidered flowers fell limply at my feet. It left me in only a thong and my strapped stilettos. Snaking an arm around my waist, he pulled me against the heat of his naked chest and claimed my mouth for his own. His tongue dueled with mine. The taste of him burned of scotch and rage.
Once more he placed a hand at my throat, just under my jaw, forcing my head back so he could feast. He laved and bit at the delicate skin along my neck and shoulder then his hands clawed at my back, straining to pull me even closer, to fuse our bodies.
Everything was him. The feel of his mouth. The strength of his hands on me. The spicy scent of his cologne. The scrape of stubble from his jaw against my breast as he sucked a nipple in deep, playing with it with the tip of his tongue.
Picking me up, my legs straddled his waist as he turned and walked down the aisle till he got to a grouping of four seats facing each other with a table in between. I thought he would place me on the table, but he lifted me up and placed me on my knees on the seat. Using his knee, he dislodged the table, sending it crashing to the floor.
Grabbing my hair, he turned me around till my back was facing him. As he ran the flat of his hand along my back, I arched and mewed as I pushed my hips out. I had no warning before I felt the sting of his palm.
“Ow!”
Again and again, he spanked my ass. His grip on my hair kept me in position. The rough fabric of the train seat rubbed at my knees as I squirmed with each strike. As the tears fell down my cheeks from the burning hot pain, his fingers toyed with the strap of my thong before viciously tearing it free of my body. I cried out as the lace roughly scraped against my already swollen clit.
In the silence of the train car, all that could be heard was his harsh breathing… then the sound of him lowering his zipper. That simple sound reverberated down my body like a gunshot, sending a rush of heat between my legs.
Just then, he stepped away from me. Not for one moment did I think to move even a muscle.
I knew better.
When he returned, I could smell lemon verbena. At first, I was confused, then my eyes widened with alarm. Twisting, I covered my ass with my hand as I tried to beg, “Please, Richard. I’m sorry for running! I’m sorry for not telling you about the bird! I’m sorry about everything.”
Driving his fingers into my hopelessly tangled curls, he leaned in close and snarled, “Take your punishment.”
In horror, I watched as he squeezed the contents of my small lotion bottle onto his thick, pulsating cock. Wrapping his fist around the shaft, he pumped his hand up and down the length, coating it with the soft-scented cream. My entire body trembled. I knew what was coming.
The pain.
The humiliation.
The degradation of being dominated in such an intimate, invasive way.
The pressure of his hand on my back forced me to lean forward and push my ass out even more. My knees rested on the edge of the seat as I grasped the cushioned back. As the head of his cock touched the seam between my cheeks, I couldn’t help but clench them tight in fear. That earned me several fierce spanks on my already sore and bruised ass. The next time I felt the head, I strained to keep my body still. Taking small pity on me, he rubbed the lotion-coated tip over my puckered rosebud, slightly lubricating it before his strong fingers wrapped around my hips.
“Brace yourself, little girl,” he growled.
Then he thrust his hips forward, tearing into my tight, dark hole.
The wide head popped inside before the long, thick shaft drove in deep. My back arched.
“Oh, God! Oh, God! It hurts! Please, not so hard!” I screeched.
I could feel the brush of his chest hair as he leaned over me. Biting my ear like a stallion bites a mare as he fucks her from behind, he breathed, “You will take every fucking inch.”
Ruthlessly, he tore into my asshole. My stomach cramped as I clawed at the seatback with each push of his hips. “Please!” I moaned.
I hated when he fucked my ass. Hated the way it made me feel and hated the pain. Most of all I hated the way he made me come while still buried deep inside of me. Proving to me the dominance he had over my mind and body. Proving over and over again how much I needed the pain to feel pleasure.
Looking over my shoulder, I watched as Richard tilted his head back and howled as he pounded into my small body. A beast claiming his mate.
“Touch yourself. Now,” he charged.
His balls slapped the back of my thighs as I reached between my legs and began to rub my clit, feeling my own tortured orgasm build.
“Do you like that, baby? Do you enjoy feeling me deep in your ass?”
I could only moan in response as his heated words went straight to my fingertips.
“Should I pull out and make you suck me dry? Make you lick every inch?” he threatened.
Fuck! Dammit!
My fingers slid between my nether lips as I got wetter with each dirty word he uttered.
Suddenly he pulled free. The pain of him pulling out was almost as bad as when he pushed his way into my tight passage. I could hear him spitting on his fingers before he rimmed my sore hole.
“Look at that beautiful gape. I love stretching your little asshole. Tell me to fuck your ass again.”
My fingers dug into the seat as I rubbed my forehead against the fabric. “No! Please, don’t make me say it,” I begged.
Stepping back, his hand landed on the sensitive skin of my upper thighs.
“Ow! Ow! Ow! Stop!” I cried.
“Say it! Say it for me.”
My thighs burned as he continued to punish them. It felt like a thousand hot bee stings running up and down my legs.
“Fuck my ass. Please! Fuck my ass!”
“Why?”
Sniffling, I rubbed my running nose on the seat. “Because I’m a dirty little girl who likes it,” I wept.
It was true.
I wanted this.
Craved it.
Needed to be dominated and owned by this man.
The lotion had already been absorbed, so when he entered me with his heavy cock a second time, it burned and ached.
His fingers joined my own to rub my clit. As I became lost in the decadent agony, he took over, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers till I came with a gut-wrenching scream.
Richard came soon after, driving his hot seed deep into my bowels.
Lifting me into his arms, he then sat down with me straddling his hips. The Mikado silk of his trousers felt like sandpaper against my thighs. Reaching up to cup my face with his large hands, he looked me deep in the eyes and warned, “Remember, you are the one who summoned the beast,” before spearing into my ass again with his still hard cock.
With a cry, I collapsed onto his shoulder as my body was once more used and abused with each powerful thrust.
The train continued to speed through the gloomy night toward Paris, as our sweaty bodies writhed and bucked with each rumble of the track.
I knew we were racing at top speed to the end of the line, to the inevitable carnage of twisted and damaged souls… but in that moment I didn’t care. I crashed into him and let him consume me.
These violent delights have violent ends.
Chapter 12
Lizzie
We arrived in Paris around midnight.
I awoke to a gentle caress on my cheek.
“Wake up, little one. We’ve arrived at your escape destination.”
Sitting up on Richard’s lap, I rubbed a hand over my eyes, too emotionally and physically drained to even worry about the slightly sarcastic comment.
I was already missing the warmth of his chest as I gripped his jacket, which had been draped over my nakedness. Standi
ng on wobbly legs, I turned to search for my gown.
It lay on the floor of the train, dirty and in tatters.
Before I could even voice my dismay and shame at not having anything to cover myself with as we left the train, I felt Richard behind me. Grasping the jacket draped over my shoulders, he held it aloft so I could slip my arms inside. Turning me, he tapped my nose. “Don’t worry, love. You won’t be doing a walk of shame through the Parisian terminal. I’m the only one who gets to see this gorgeous body of yours.”
Leaning to the side, he picked up his belt and wrapped it tight around my waist. He then picked up each arm and rolled the cuffs of his expensive dinner jacket till my small hands appeared. I felt like a child being dressed for the day.
Richard took a step back and surveyed his work. Shaking his head, he teased, “It’s not quite right.”
Then, walking a few steps down the aisle, he returned with my gold purse and the diamond lovebird brooch. Giving me a wink, he pinned the brooch to the lapel.
Looking past him to my reflection in the train windows, it surprised me how wanton I looked. My hair was a wild mane of tangled curls. My lips were swollen and bruised, which gave them a pouting supermodel appeal. While still scandalously short, his jacket covered my ass and the tops of my legs. The large diamond brooch minimized the impact of the cleavage-baring dip in the front. Overall, I looked rather stylish and sexy.
Taking my hand in his firm grasp, Richard leaned down to whisper in my ear, “The City of Love awaits.”
My skin prickled with goosebumps. I wasn’t sure if it was fear or anticipation.
All of this was some strange, macabre fairytale, and Richard had a way of being both the villain and the Prince Charming all at once.
If I had been traveling with a normal human being, they would have probably thrown me into some French jail, then strip searched and questioned me for trying to enter a foreign country half-naked with no passport or identification.
I wasn’t with a normal human being; I was with Richard.
The moment we stepped onto the platform, a small army of his staff besieged us. Several men dressed all in black raced to stand on either side of us, holding blankets high so it obscured us from public view as we headed toward an unmarked doorway.
As we walked, two older women and one younger man kept pace alongside of us, each holding up a phone.
“Is that Harris?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Richard snatched up the mobile. “The threat is worse than we thought and I want fucking answers. I want you and your team here now.” Looking at his watch, he said, “Take the helicopter. It usually takes about an hour and a half to get to Paris from London. I’ll expect to see you then.”
Richard handed the phone back to one of the women and took the one from the young man who breathlessly said, “The palace, Your Grace.”
“Tell her I need an Instrument of Consent by tomorrow,” said Richard into the phone. After a brief pause, he barked, “I don’t give a damn about royal protocol. Tell her it’s for Richard,” before he handed the phone back to the flustered young man.
The palace?
Royal protocol?
Holy shit! By her, did Richard mean the queen?
And what the hell was an Instrument of Consent?
Richard placed his hand on my lower back and extended his arm out to force the encroaching horde of staff to take several steps to the side as we passed.
The second woman was practically running to keep up with Richard’s long strides… as was I.
“The chef is at your residence preparing the meal. It will be ready when you arrive, Your Grace.”
Richard nodded. “And the other item?”
The woman’s cheeks flamed. “I’m still trying to get ahold of them. There is no answer.”
“In my contacts, there is the mobile number for Bellettini. Use it,” he responded.
That was the name of the CEO of Yves Saint Laurent.
What the hell was going on?
I wanted to ask, but by then we were being whisked down a long narrow hallway through a set of double doors. I had expected to at least see some form of customs, so it was a shock to feel fresh cool air hit my face and bare legs.
Outside, waiting along the curb, was a small motorcade; two security SUVs at the front and back of a long limo, and several motorcycle cops. Richard and I were quickly hustled into the limo. The moment the door shut, it seemed eerily quiet compared to the chaos we had just experienced.
As disconcerting as I had found the chaos, being alone and isolated in a limo with Richard seemed worse.
“I don’t understand. How? When?” I couldn’t even form the questions.
Richard gave me a tired smile and stroked my hair before wrapping his hand around my neck to pull me close against his shoulder. He kissed me on the forehead. “You should know by now… I always get what I want, when I want it. No matter the cost.”
As the motorcade pulled away from the Gare du Nord train station, I watched the lights of Paris through the car window and tried not to think about my future with Richard.
For the moment, I just wanted to be lulled by the beauty of the city and imagine we were a normal couple on a normal romantic holiday.
Despite the late hour, the city still hummed with activity. Couples walking arm in arm. Stylish women walking even more stylish little dogs. Outdoor cafés filled with laughing people leaning over tables littered with empty coffee cups and half eaten biscuits.
As we drove over the Seine on the Pont au Change, I caught my first glimpse of Notre Dame. It was sad to see the building looking so dark and cold, but you could see the outline of scaffolding enfolding her in its skeletal embrace.
As the motorcade turned right, I craned my neck to try to possibly catch a glimpse of the lights of the Eiffel Tower. I thought I could see the top but I couldn’t be sure.
Richard chuckled. “Don’t worry. I will take you to see the Eiffel Tower tomorrow.”
Realizing I was sitting on the edge of my seat, leaning over him, I abashedly shifted back and leaned into the plush cushions, trying to appear more like the sophisticated, world-traveled women I assumed he had dated as opposed to the awestruck young American girl I was.
“Do you take the elevator to the top with all the common mortals, or is there some top-secret entrance for Godlike billionaires?”
Richard just smiled. “You must wait and see.”
After several more minutes we turned down a quiet street in the shadows of a large twin-spired gothic cathedral. We stopped alongside two massive hunter green doors. Someone from the first SUV jumped out and opened the doors. The limo had to back up, turn, then back up again before squeezing through the narrow cobblestone passageway that was probably built over a hundred years ago and meant for carriages.
My mouth dropped open as the car pulled into a large circular courtyard. The house before me was all white with tall windows, actual gas-lit lamps flanking the doorway, and several balconies.
The entire place was ablaze with light. Through every window there was the champagne glow of warmth and welcome.
Again, I marveled at how Richard could accomplish all this when a few hours ago he didn’t even know he would be in Paris.
For one insane moment, I wondered if he somehow knew.
That was impossible of course; until I’d found the feather and overreacted, I myself hadn’t known I would try to flee to Paris. How could he possibly have known?
Still, there was this queer feeling in my stomach.
Somehow, someway, Richard was always a few moves ahead of me on the board.
While his home in Mayfair had a more sedate, refined elegance fitting an English gentleman of his stature, his home in Paris was opulent almost to the point of obscene.
Everywhere I looked there was polished marble and gold. Gold chandeliers, gold sconces, gold scroll and leaf design volutes at the top of the marble columns, which rose above the entranceway to at least thre
e stories high to help hold up a ceiling decorated with a spectacular mural filled with fat cherubs and pink clouds.
“It’s… ah… it’s…”
Sweeping me into his arms, Richard strolled up the wide center staircase. “Don’t strain yourself trying to say something nice. It’s gaudy and garish as hell.”
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I buried my head in his shoulder and laughed. It wasn’t often Richard admitted that something within his sphere of influence was not up to his exacting standards.
“I bought it furnished and I haven’t redecorated. You can have that honor later… but right now I’m getting you into a nice hot shower.”
“Will I have company?” I asked cheekily.
“I’m never leaving your side again,” came his earnest response as he tightened his arms around me.
I barely glimpsed the circular entrance to the master bedroom suite before he carried me down a long corridor of mirrors and doors that I could only assume were closets.
Inside the bathroom, there was even more gold and marble, but I barely noticed as Richard was busy unbuckling the belt around my waist and tearing at his jacket.
The large walk-in glass shower quickly filled with steam as I stepped inside, hissing as the scalding water hit my chilled skin.
Reaching for the bar of soap, I inhaled its masculine sandalwood scent as I lathered it between my hands and then rubbed small circles over my stomach before reaching between my legs.
Richard’s large tanned hand enclosed mine.
“Oh!”
I hadn’t heard him enter the shower. Looking down, his hand looked swarthy and almost menacing as it nestled between my soap-covered thighs. His hand moved up to cup my breast as he kissed my neck before turning me around and pressing my back against the cobalt blue tile. Raising his arms, he caged me in. Using the tip of his tongue, he teased my lips with small licks, before claiming my mouth for his own.
I placed my hands against his chest, pushing my fingers through the thick curls of inky hair that covered that hard, muscled expanse before returning his kiss. Leaning up on my toes to press my mouth more firmly against his. Loving the way his tongue swept in to swirl and capture my own.