by Loki Renard
“You should take me with you today.”
“Why?”
“Because if you don’t, I’m going to entertain myself,” I say. “And you know how I like to do that.” I mime driving a car and then make a splashing sound, mimicking a plunge into water.
He sighs and shakes his head at me. “You know how much that cost me to fix?”
“You know how much I don’t really care?”
“Yeah, I know,” he growls. “Come on. But be good. I am not in the mood for it today, Candi.”
“I’ll be good. I’ll bring my wedding book and work on the center pieces while you break the law with other men who like to break the law.”
“Fine.”
He takes me into work and I can’t stop smiling to myself. I’m getting him back. Oh god I am getting him back so fucking hard. He embarrassed me in front of my family. He turned my parents into his cheerleaders. He’s cornered me into a marriage I haven’t even had time to decide if I want or not. But I have had plenty of time to think about how I’m going to fuck with him, and he’s just given me the opening I needed.
We’re at one of his warehouses, not working the tables, but up in the office which juts out over the production floor. The place is empty, except for Dante, his men, and the British man who is back with his crew, attempting to cut some kind of deal, so I believe. They’re down on the shop floor. Dante warned me very sternly to stay upstairs and not to be seen or interfere, or even worse, run away. He left me with some things I ordered for the wedding to entertain myself with, but I’m going to use them for another purpose.
I’ve been waiting for a moment like this, one where Dante wants so badly to be taken seriously. One where he can’t afford to be fucked with. Looking out the window, I can see tension in all the men below. Looks like they need some light relief.
“Honey!” I call out, running down the stairs with two swatches of silk fabric in my hands.
They all turn toward me. Some of the men put their hands on their guns, before realizing I’m not an attacking banshee, but a young woman with bridal fabric in her hands. I run up to Dante and drape the pink over one of his shoulders, and the orange over the other.
“I was thinking about ordering you a colored silk tuxedo for the wedding,” I coo, ignoring everyone. “I think you might be a summer in your natural skin tone, so maybe pink would be best? Then you can match the bridesmaids!?”
“You’re getting married, Dante?”
“Yes,”Dante grits between his teeth, shooting me a vicious look.
“Well, congratulations are in order,” the British man smirks.
“Oh yes, we’re so very happy!” I gush. “I just can’t wait to marry my wittle Dantekins and live the most glorious life. We’re going to move to the country and have six children, or was it eight? I don’t know. But they’re all going to be named after flowers. I was thinking Petunia for a girl, and maybe Chrysanthemum for a boy, you know, Chrys for short? Hahahahaha!”
I let out the most ridiculous forced laugh and beam broadly at Dante along with all the men with guns.
“Candi. Go upstairs,” Dante growls.
“Yes dear, of course dear. Remember to come up when you’re done playing with your friends. I want to measure you for matching silk underwear.” I wink at the British man. “He likes silk panties. Who doesn’t!?”
“CANDI!” Dante roars my name and I escape as fast as I can, running up the stairs at a pace that isn’t safe and certainly isn’t ladylike. I know I’m going to pay for that, but I don’t care. He wants to invade my world and play some bullshit role, two of us can play at that game.
I’m laughing the whole way up the stairs. I keep laughing even as I hear his footsteps coming up behind me. Then the door flies open and I stop laughing abruptly when I see his face.
He looks pissed. I mean really pissed. I guess insinuating he wears women’s underwear is worse than stealing a car in his world.
“What the fuck was that?” He thunders the question at me.
“We’re getting married! I’m excited, of course. I just can’t wait to…”
“Don’t fuck with me, Candi,” he growls.
“You’re fucking with me. Tricking my parents into thinking you’re going to marry me.”
“I am going to marry you,” he growls as he grabs me and pulls me over his knee, sitting down on the couch I just abruptly vacated at his hands. His palm starts meeting my ass hard and fast, spanking me so fucking hard I scream out.
“You knew how this was going to end,” he says between hard, loud whacks which make me jerk over his thighs.
I did know. Maybe not exactly, but vaguely enough. I knew there would be pain as a consequence, but I didn’t care. I just wanted him to feel something like what I felt when he was inside my family home, when he talked to my parents, when he made a show of proposing to me, when he made me feel that I wasn’t in control of anything.
He felt just a fraction of that a minute ago, and he hated it. That’s why he’s setting my ass on fire with those hard swats which are echoing around the room and making me cry out. Fuck him. It’s worth the pain.
Dante
She couldn’t hold it together for another three hours. That’s all I needed, and she just had to push it. This is not what I want to be doing right now. I had other plans for Candi tonight.
She’s a brat, and the kind of shit she pulled is dangerous. I live and die by my reputation. Her fucking with me puts us both in danger. I shouldn’t have had her around when these men were around. I didn’t want to bring her. I wanted to leave her at home, but fuck knows what she would have done there.
I’m spanking her hard as hell. She was wearing a skirt, but that is up and her underwear is down. She’s getting it on the bare. Her ass is already bright red. This is harsher than she deserves. I know it’s too much. Too hard. What she did was just a prank, but my life is not a prank, and I can’t let shit like this slide. She already gets away with too much. I know how messed up it is that she stole a car and I did nothing and she played with some fabric and I’m whipping her ass, but she did that just for a reaction, and now she’s getting one.
“I hate you, Dante! I hate you and I’m never going to marry you, so you can forget about that!”
I have to stop spanking her because I don’t want to bruise her ass, even if she’s basically begging me to. Instead, I grab a fistful of her hair and pull her up from my lap, arching her back so she looks into my face. I press a rough kiss to her lips .
“Behave,” I growl.
She freezes when I kiss her, and then I feel her soften against me. She doesn’t really want to fight.
“Why are you being such a bad girl?” I murmur the question against her lips.
“Because you’re a bad man,” she whispers back.
She’s not wrong. I am bad. I am so much worse than she knows. She probably deserves better than me, but she’s not going to get it. She’s mine.
“I am,” I agree, holding her hair in one hand and letting my other find her ass again, this time to rub her ass. She lets out a little sound, maybe a moan, maybe a growl and my fingers tighten, finding the seam of her pussy. She’s wet.
I push my fingers deeper and they find their way inside her. Two fingers inside her hot little hole, feeling her inner walls clenching around them. Now the sounds she’s making are definite moans, and her lips are on mine, giving me begging, biting kisses as I finger her little hole, pushing them deep and them pulling them out again, gathering her wetness and then rubbing that same wetness around her ass.
Yes. Her ass. I need that fucking dark, dirty little hole of hers. That’s what her punishment is going to be, if it’s even a punishment. She’s so fucking wet I could do anything to her now and she’d love it.
I pick her up and push her over the office desk, spread her cheeks and push my tongue to her ass. I lick her. Taste her.
Candi
God. He’s devouring me. His tongue is lapping against my ass and I kn
ow he’s going to put his cock there. Of course he is. He wants to humiliate me. He wants this warehouse to ring with the cries of my bottom being sacrificed to his ego - and he gets his way. I whimper as he pushes a finger inside me. It’s rough and there’s not much lube besides what my body is producing for him.
He uses every bit of it too, fingering my spanked bottom until I find myself groaning with pleasure. This is wrong, but everything he does is wrong. He’s going to fuck my ass, and I’m not going to stop him. I’m just going to lie here, limp and hot and red and I’m going to let this fucking monster push himself deep inside me.
The head of his cock is huge as it pushes past the tight little hole which guards my bowels. The stretching is intense, bordering on painful, but I am still so very wet. My clit tingles as he takes my ass with slow, deliberate strokes, making me feel all of him. Making me understand what it means to be possessed completely.
“I’m going to marry you, Candi. And you’re going to like it,” he growls with one rough, punitive thrust after the other, jerking me against the table as he uses my ass to gain his orgasm.
“Mngggh,” I moan.
It doesn't matter what I say. It doesn’t matter what I do. I’ll always give in to Dante, because in the end, it always feels good to surrender. First he punished me. He made my ass sore. He made my pride sting. And now he is inside that same tight hole and he is sending ripples of pleasure throughout me that are fast…. uh… reaching… mnggg… a climax!
Two fingers pinch and strum my clit in time with his invasion and in seconds I am screaming and writhing in creamy ecstasy, taking his seed inside my bowels and begging for more. Dante makes me wanton and weak, and there is some part of me that knows not only do I deserve this, it is precisely what I wanted.
I feel him slide out of me and I let out a deep sigh, thinking that it is over. It is not over. A moment later, I feel rope sliding around my wrists and waist and legs… “What are you doing?”
A gag slides into my mouth. A blindfold slips over my eyes. I have no idea what he’s doing to me, but I’m too happily fucked to struggle and maybe, just maybe, I’m starting to trust him.
He tosses me over his shoulder, carries me out of the warehouse and god knows where, into a car. Leaking his cum from my once virgin ass, utterly undressed and entirely undone, I lie on the back seat of the car and hope against hope that what comes next might be merciful.
We go somewhere warm. Indoors. I don’t know more than that. The place doesn’t smell familiar. Hotel room, maybe? He puts me down on a bed and I feel him undressing me, unwinding the rope enough to remove my clothing, taking the gag away so I can speak, but keeping the blindfold on so I cannot see or speak, only experience the world through the sense of touch.
A warm bath greets me once I am naked. He doesn’t let me wash myself. Again, I have to feel how helpless I am compared to him. I have to let him take charge of my body as he tenderly washes the dirt and sweat and cum from my skin.
“Let me see,” I whimper.
“No,” he says. “Not yet.”
“Why? What are we doing? What’s happening? Ohhh…”
He pushes a wash cloth down between my thighs and I moan softly as he starts to clean the same places he fucked so roughly not that long ago. Dante is slow and deliberate in the way he uses the soap laden cloth to stimulate and clean me, letting me have little quivering orgasms every few minutes until finally he decides to pull me from the water, pat me dry and then dress me.
I feel something very long and very silky passing over my body. Is he putting me in a night gown? No. It’s too heavy for that. Some kind of dress. I think I can feel lace brushing against my arms as he adjusts the bonds.
“What are you doing?” It feels like I’m a doll he’s playing dress up with.
He makes no reply, but I feel him at my feet, rolling stockings over my toes, up my shins, over my knees and then all the way to my thighs. I hear the soft click of stocking clasps being closed over the tops. I must be wearing a garter. What on earth is he dressing me up as?
“Shhhh,” he murmurs, running his fingers up and down the inside of my thighs. “You’re alright, girl.”
He’s rarely made the effort to calm me before. Usually he seems to enjoy my panic, but tonight something is different. It has been different since the visit to my hometown, the one where he charmed my parents and laid ever more claim to me.
I expect to be tied up again, but the wet rope is allowed to fall away, replaced by this garment, notable for a lack of any form of underwear.
“Dante, please…” I whimper. I am afraid, though I do not know why. Something is happening. Something significant. Something out of my control. Why won’t he tell me? Why does he take this dark delight in making my world a mystery?
He leads me down some stairs and into a car. Not the same car as before. This one is taller and has leather seats.
“Dante…”
He puts his lips to my earlobe and begins to nibble there, his hand on my inner thigh as the car begins to move. He’s not driving. We must be in the back.
I reach for the blindfold, but he slaps my hands away sharply.
“No,” he drawls. “Naughty.”
“I want to see…”
“You’ll see soon enough,” he purrs. “You’ll see everything. Patience, Candi. Trust me.”
Trust him? How can I possibly trust him? He is my enemy. My lover. My tormentor. Things are reaching their climax, I can feel that, but I do not know what he is going to do for his final trick. It could be any of a dozen terrible things, some so awful they make whimpers of fear reach my lips when I think about them.
The drive is not long, but it feels like an eternity before we begin to slow and then finally stop. The door opens next to me and wind rushes in, bringing strains of the most beautiful music with it. It sounds like violins…what are they playing?
I step out of the car at his bidding, the blindfold still over my eyes. I can’t see, but I can follow the music, along with the ice cold air of the evening, and the sound of waves washing against the shore. The wind drops a moment, and I recognize the tune. A wedding march.
“What…”
Dante sweeps the blindfold away from my eyes and I see the strangest sight in the world. We are at the beach. No. Not the beach. The docks. There are dozens of men lined up from the car to a pier. I recognize them as his men, though they hardly look like it because they are all wearing suits. They make for an imposing and very formal sight.
“Dante…”
His name dies on my lips because I am looking at him and seeing him as I have never seen him before. He has always been a master changeling, but tonight I am seeing a transformation like none before. It’s not the suit that makes him look different. It’s the expression on his face. There is a fondness in his eyes which transforms him entirely. He looks devilishly, impossibly handsome. My surprise continues when I look down at myself. A vast expanse of silk and lace meets my gaze.
I am wearing a wedding gown.
I am getting married.
Oh god.
Dante takes me by the hand and leads me down the gauntlet. I do not know what to make of it. I am in shock with every step I take. This is no dream wedding. It is being held in the dead of night at industrial docks, with an escort of lawless men. What will my parents say when they hear about this? Dante won’t be in their favor anymore, I know that much. They’ll never forgive him for making them miss their only child’s wedding.
We step onto the pier, wood creaking beneath my feet, and I realize that will not be a problem. Because they’re here. Everyone is here.
There’s a priest standing at the end of the pier, the moon rising behind him. He is the man I see first, but he is the least important of the people I see. My parents are sitting on crates which have been placed for seating. They are wrapped in warm coats and the moon illuminates their smiling faces. Next to the make shift altar, Steffy and Miranda and Madison are wearing fur lined dresses. I can�
�t believe they came. Or I can, because Dante is capable of casting his criminal spell over basically everybody he meets. He’s charmed them all, and he’s stolen me and my heart besides.
Dante draws me down the aisle. My father won’t be giving me away, because I’ve already been taken. Dante leads me all the way to the priest, his steps slow and deliberate so my parents and friends can see me on this, my wedding evening. They are all smiling so broadly and so happily I find myself smiling back, even though I am caught in a torrent of confusion.
This is not the wedding I imagined myself having, and Dante is not the man I thought I’d marry. I’m so glad for that. If not for him, I would have let myself be taken by some drip like Harry. I would probably have let Harry have me that night, if it wasn’t for the comparison to Dante, I wouldn’t have known what a man like this can make me feel.
I am being married, but is it against my will? I don’t know. I never thought Dante was actually serious about marrying me. I thought it was a game. But if this is a game, it is an elaborate one so close to reality that there is no difference.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate a union between this man and this woman,” the priest says. It is hard to make out in the moonlight, but I am fairly certain that there are tattoos rising from that dog collar.
Dante takes my hand, and my attention, drawing my gaze towards his handsome face.
“The moment I saw you, I knew you were mine,” he says, his voice rough. “There is nobody else for me, Candi. Nobody but you.”
He pauses and I realize that I am supposed to say something. My mouth is dry. My heart is pounding. I am confused. I am… caught. Captive to a ceremony I agreed to in principle but never expected to find myself in. I thought his proposal was some mechanism of control, another way to get me back. I had no idea he actually meant it.
“I didn’t prepare anything, because I didn’t know I was coming,” I say, much to the apparent amusement of the other guests, who seem to think I am joking.
I don’t know what I want anymore. I do know that he has engineered this moment so I cannot do anything but agree to his whim and will. I can tell my parents and friends think this is romantic. Perhaps it is.