Captive Beauty: A Reverse Harem Dark Romance

by Chloe Saint

  I stood there like a mouse mesmerized by the gaze of a snake.

  “Stop,” I whispered.

  He fingered the soft material at the neck of my sweater.

  “You came here, remember?” he said, with a wolfish grin. “You put yourself in my power. I can do whatever I want,” he added, and pulled the neck of my sweater down, until the material gave away like a ripped cloud. It looked effortless to his beefy hands, and he ignored my inarticulate protests, using both his hands to rip it down the entire front of my torso, until it hung like soft rags, exposing my belly and the valley between my breasts.

  He shoved it aside until it was hanging off my shoulders, and my skin prickled with the cold. He drank in the sight of my naked flesh greedily.

  “I’ve waited so long for this,” he murmured, more to himself than to me.

  Without warning, he pinched my left nipple hard enough to hurt. I cried out, but he didn’t stop, alternating pinches and hard strokes until the nerve endings in my breasts were sending arcs of throbbing electricity right to my clit.

  “Stop,” I said weakly, and tried to cover myself up. This wasn’t what I had in mind when I came here.

  He took my forearm in his and forced it aside.

  “You will never,” he said deliberately, “Stop me from having you any way I choose. Do you understand?”

  His grip was going to leave bruises. I looked in his eyes for any hints that he could show mercy, but found none.

  “I understand,” I said softly, biting my lip as he let my arm go.

  “Good,” he said, satisfied. “Now undress and get on the bed, on your hands and knees.”

  I obeyed mutely, leaving my leggings on the floor. But the panties I kept on. This was quickly turning into my worst nightmare. I didn’t come here to endure Rohan’s tortures. I came here to…what? Find the sweet, caring boy who played hide and seek with me a decade ago? Face it, I told myself, I’d walked right into this one.

  “Good,” he said approvingly. I heard his footsteps getting fainter, and the creak of a door opening. He was getting something out of the wardrobe, I surmised, as I heard the clink of metal and the soft hush of cloth brushing against cloth. “Something tells me nobody’s explained what you can expect now that you’re here.”

  “That’s right,” I said, voice coming out scratchy. Scared. “Nobody did,” I added, trying to sound confident and unconcerned.

  “Good,” he repeated. “I’ll tell you now: you’re not prepared for this. It’s going to hurt quite a bit more than you ever imagined. And you’re going to like it.”

  Chapter 10

  I stayed silent.

  “No response?” he said, sounding lazily amused. “It doesn’t matter, you’ll be using your pretty mouth soon enough.”

  His footsteps drew closer to me, and from my position on all fours I could make out something in his hand that swished back and forth. He stroked it like a favorite cat. I swallowed, staring at the gleaming black thing.

  It was a whip.

  “Never felt the mark of one of these before have you, my sweet Belle?” he said silkily. “Your skin is like the purest cream. Unmarred, without any flaw or mark. We’re going to change that.”

  “Please,” I croaked, shuddering. Soon my hands weren’t going to be able to hold me up. “Please, no.”

  “Didn’t I say you’d learn to love it?” he said, gently scolding. He drew the whip over my thighs, and it stroked my skin like a tender lover. But my blood went cold at the thought of what it could do to me. “I know your body better than you could ever know it, Belle. And I can read the need in your big doe eyes, the want that you think is too dirty to admit aloud.”

  “You’re crazy,” I whispered, as the whip reached the small of my back, and he noticed the scrap of material that was preserving a tiny bit of my modesty.

  “What’s this?” he asked, any trace of amusement gone from his tone. “I thought I told you to undress.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said meekly, “I’ll take it off now.”

  “No,” he said sternly. “You’ll find out what happens if you disobey me. Remember that.”

  The cold, snaking whip left my skin, to my immense relief. It was replaced by his hand, which followed the same path up the backs of my thighs, and cupped my outer lips hard. I moaned as he massaged the flesh there, not tenderly but with a clinical touch, as though to assess my response.

  I was already slick and wet, the fabric of my panties utterly soaked with my arousal. If I had the capacity to be ashamed, I would have been burning up with it by now.

  “See, Belle?” he said, moving on to the small of my back, where the band of my panties was. “Your body doesn’t lie to me, though you do.”

  He took the band in his grip, and pulled. Not hard enough to tear the fabric, but hard enough that it became a tight rope that—oh!—pulled against the crack of my ass.

  “Ah!” I moaned, as the scratchy material rubbed and chafed against my hole. He must have known that I was already sore. He was doing this on purpose.

  “You’re feeling it now, aren’t you?” he murmured, and let it go slack. I barely had a moment to catch my breath before he pulled it again, tighter this time, until I felt like it was going to rub the tender puckered skin absolutely raw.

  All I could think was the friction when Killian’s giant dick entered the hole that was far too small to accommodate it, how I’d screamed and writhed and eventually come to accept it with pleasure. I felt my hole clench, opening and closing, looking for the intrusion that wasn’t coming.

  This time, he didn’t stop pulling until the delicate silk and lace gave way. I felt cool air brush my ass as he pulled the rags away contemptuously. This guy really had something against leaving my clothing intact.

  My pussy was finally bare, but I wasn’t prepared for him to thrust the handle of the whip flush against my hole.

  “Would you like to be fucked like this?” he mused, pushing it so it teased at my entrance. I trembled, but didn’t answer. “Getting better at obeying,” he said, sounding pleased. “I won’t fuck you like that. Because I have better uses for this beauty here.”

  Oh no…he couldn’t mean…

  And as he brought the lash down on the meat of my back, I let myself scream. It felt like a line of fire was burning through my back. But he didn’t stop there.

  There was another lash that brought a sound out of me that I didn’t even know I could make. I was surprised it didn’t split me in two. The pain was incredible, beyond anything I’d never experienced before.

  I wondered if there would be blood.

  My skin felt hot and tight, like I was going to burst out of it. My nipples were swollen and hurting, longing for Rohan’s rough pinches and strokes. My clit throbbed long and slow, pulsing with need at each stroke of the whip. What was wrong with me?

  Another stroke, another line of liquid fire on my back, and I was coming apart. I was a sobbing, writhing mess.

  I kept saying ‘Please,’ but I didn’t even know what I was begging for.

  He was clever. He didn’t let me notice a rhythm or I would have started tensing up before every lash. He waited until the tension leaked out of my body, until I physically couldn’t keep my muscles contracted, and that was when he struck.

  ‘I can’t,’ I kept saying, sheets fisted in my fingers, sweat falling from my trembling body like rain.

  But I could. I did.

  And, most shameful of all, I enjoyed it.

  My pussy was riding wave after wave of twisted pleasure, and I tried twisting my thighs together to get some friction on my clit so I could finally come.

  “Did I say you could touch yourself?” Rohan snapped, and suddenly there was a lash that curled under my thigh and the very tip of it caressed my outer lips. I screamed again, more from shock than pain, and began to come.

  Rohan controlled the whip so precisely that this particular lash was less painful than the others. But it was also targeted at a more tender, sensit
ive area, so the moment something touched my pussy, white hot and merciless, it brought me over the edge.

  With a final, shattered cry, I slumped over on the bed. I dimly heard Rohan putting the whip down. He crawled on the bed next to me and took me in his arms.

  “You were amazing,” Rohan whispered, wiping the tears from my face tenderly. I sobbed into his neck, not caring that I was leaning into his touch. “You’re so beautiful, Belle,” he continued, nuzzling my hair. He continued petting me and stroking me, from my breasts to my thighs, praising me and telling me how beautiful I was.

  I clung to him like he was my lifeline, the only thing keeping me from floating away. I didn’t understand this feeling, like the pain from the whip scoring my back had transmuted into rivulets of liquid gold.

  I felt scraped clean, like I’d walked through fire and somehow burned away the ugly thing that stuck to my soul and tainted me.

  I was grateful to Rohan. I didn’t full understand it, but at least it didn’t seem to strange anymore.

  “I knew you’d be perfect,” he was murmuring to me, now all gentleness and soothing whispers. “You’re so beautiful, my precious Belle.”

  “Would you—please?”

  “What? Fuck you?” he said, and brushed my bottom lip with his teeth.

  It made me shiver, like a hen held between the jaws of a fox. But I nodded tremulously. This…this was what I needed. Unwillingly, he ripped the admission from me by laying that thin strip of leather down like a brand.

  “Will there be a mark?” I whispered, as he moved me to a more comfortable position in his lap. Now my slim thighs bracketed his, huge and muscular and imposing, covered with a scattering of dark hair. I gulped as I took in the rock hard bulge that brushed my mound whenever I shifted. It sent curls of awareness into my pussy, and although I came once I was more than ready to do it again.

  Four days with these men had turned me into a cock hungry slut.

  “From my whip?” he asked, and chuckled, a rumble that I felt in my hands as I rested them on his broad, burly chest to keep from toppling over. “No, my sweet. That was just a taste. There will be more later, and that might leave a mark on your flawless skin at last.”

  “Really?”

  “Do you want there to be marks, sweet? Scars to brand you as ours?” he said hotly, biting my ear.

  “I—ah—I don’t know.”

  “I think you do know.”

  “I—I do want them,” I admitted.

  “Then there will be. Maybe not this time, but the next,” he said, and stroked my tender back, though I mewled and struggled. It really did hurt, like gashes of fire split open through the skin. “Hush,” he said sternly, “I want to admire my handiwork.”

  I meekly submitted as he pressed down on the lines and stroked them, gently enough that I wouldn’t cry out again.

  Though he didn’t like to admit it, he noticed when something was too much for me, and was careful to stay on the other side of the line.

  I was smiling when he finally pulled away and shoved his briefs down his hips. His cock bobbed up, an angry veined purple at the head, already leaking pearly drops of pre-come. It was thicker than my wrist. I forced myself to stay still.

  I held my breath as he positioned himself at my entrance, and moaned as he stretched me wide, and thrust himself deeper than I ever thought possible.

  It was wet, and hot, and filthy.

  He pounded me like a jackhammer, driving himself deeper and deeper as I clenched helplessly around him. I was so wet, maybe too wet. It wasn’t giving us enough friction, so I rubbed my thighs against his hips, a mute plea for him to do something.

  But he continued thrusting into me, smirking all the while, like he was enjoying my frustration. Another form of torture, just a slightly more subtle one than whips and chains.

  Finally, he deigned to put a hand between my legs and stroked my outer lips, feather-soft, even as his cock hammered into me. A contrast, like silk and steel.

  He thumbed my clit, sending sizzles of pleasure into that incredibly sensitive bud. He pressed down, spread it out until I didn’t know if this kind of hurt should feel this good. But my pussy was throbbing, and wave after wave of pleasure was curling through me.

  I came with a moan, clawing at his back.

  He seemed so in control all this while, but the tight clench of my pussy as I rode the waves of pleasure was too much even for him. He grunted into my shoulder and poured his seed into me, spurting hot and wet into my hole, filling me up.

  I lay back, panting as though I’d run a marathon.

  Somehow, this one had taken more out of me than the others.

  But the Emery brothers had a strange, unspoken arrangement of their own, when it came to how they would share me.

  Derrick was the first to take his turn with me. And the gentlest. He could never break me, and his gentle but firm touch brought me to heel like a foal that was ready to be broken in.

  It all made sense. Of course Derrick was the only one who could handle me on that first morning, when I was confused and disoriented and angry—ready flee, ready to fight.

  Then came Killian, to remind me of their darker side, and of the dangers here that I couldn’t forget. And yet, I wondered if they meant for me to be shocked, to demand to go home at once, to finally have a line crossed that couldn’t be erased.

  But I didn’t.

  Maybe they were testing me all along. To see if this thing between us, this thick, twisted, heady obsession was real.

  I stayed, and I—I let them watch while Killian used me, begged Gunner to make me come while the other two jerked off to the sight. And worst of all, I enjoyed it.

  All the cracks in me, the many ways that I was broken, made me perfect for them.

  And I had come to accept my place with them. It was twisted and wrong, at least, that was what anybody on the outside would immediately say.

  Maybe even my sisters would look at me differently.

  But no, if they still thought of me as the older sister they loved and trusted even after all of Daddy’s lies, they wouldn’t turn me away because of something like this.

  I turned to Rohan, who was lying beside me, hand possessively resting on my hip. It was placed right over the very edge of the flaming red mark that the base of the whip made, and I was sure it was no coincidence.

  It was the mark he made on my skin, and he wanted to keep touching it to remind himself that it was really there.

  “I want to know what I can do,” I said, “To bring Daddy down for good.”

  Chapter 11

  Rohan didn’t reply, but he did roll off the bed and stand up. He was unashamed of his nakedness, and of how the sweat from our sex gleamed on his muscles. I tried not to look at his cock, which was now flaccid but still impressive.

  I felt wrung out like a rag, emotionally and physically. I would have liked nothing more than to spend the morning in the big, comfortable bed, sleeping the day away.

  But I knew things were getting more serious than ever.

  Daddy was on the news, telling the world that I was a dangerous liar plotting god knows what with a group of thugs…and the world believed him. All the while he was planning on profiting from a new energy source that could benefit billions of people if properly used.

  Something told me that Daddy would make sure to sell his miraculous oil only to those who could afford his premium prices. Maybe he was even planning on keeping his discovery a secret until the next energy crises, when people would be too desperate to argue about price gouging.

  Somehow, I needed to stop him.

  I just didn’t have a clue as to how.

  Rohan, meanwhile, emerged from the shower, where he looked like he had a quick rinse. I guiltily realized that I must smell quite ripe as well.

  “Join us downstairs,” he said shortly. “Just be sure that you’re ready.”

  Those words stopped me short.

  Was I ready? I thought of Daddy, his ever-smiling face, the
way he played the part of the devoted father while pimping out his daughter every night.

  And I thought of my sisters, who still lived with him. He had too much attention on him now from the news channels, thanks to his own actions. If he wanted to try selling my sister’s bodies, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to do it while everyone was watching him. He’d wait until it all blew over.

  I had to make sure it never did.

  “I’m ready,” I said resolutely.

  Rohan simply nodded, but I sensed pride in his gaze.

  A few minutes later, I went to the living room freshly showered to find the four men sitting around not speaking.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, immediately nervous.

  They were all radiating tension. None of them were looking at each other.

  This was bad.

  In the few days I spent with them, I already figured out how close they were. They never seemed to go beyond petty squabbling. They had their own intimate hierarchy. If they were truly fighting, it had to be major.

  “We’re having a bit of a disagreement,” Derrick volunteered finally, after a few seconds’ silence.

  “What about?” I asked, settling myself on the empty loveseat.

  “Some of us are having second thoughts about the plan,” Gunner said, lips pressed in a tight line.

  “Considering you and Gunner came up with it over the course of thirty minutes, I’m not sure that’s unwarranted,” Rohan pointed out coolly.

  “Guys, don’t worry about me,” I interrupted. I met each of their gazes squarely. “I’ve seen the news. I know it’s getting dangerous--for all of us.”

  “Belle, you might not like what we’re going to say,” Derrick said gently.

  I shook my head. “I think I already know. You want me to go back, don’t you?”

  “No,” said Killian and Rohan at the same time. Derrick was silent. Only Gunner looked at me with a grim determination in his eyes. I could see he felt conflicted. Sending me back was dangerous. Unless we had a very solid plan.

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  I nodded. I wasn’t ready to face the world, now that Daddy had painted me as a lying, violent sociopath.