Page 8

Story: Vow of Vengeance

CHAPTER 8

Ophelia

I think of the other things he’s done to my body—the orgasm that tipped me over into oblivion. That thing in his hand was enormous. The place it is going into is tight. Do I need to hold something to keep me from rocketing to the moon?

The silver buckle of his belt glints against the dim overhead car light. That belt is the only thing that has my shaking fingers going to the button at my waist. I undo my jeans, lift my ass, sit back down—the leather smooth against my ass—and push the denim over my thighs. I let the material hang around my knees, wanting to leave them on somewhat.

He eyes the jeans. “All the way.”

Slipping off one sneaker, then the other, I push my jeans the rest of the way off. I’m left bare-legged, wearing my sweater and the most modest pair of boy-cut, short-style panties I could find, with white athletic socks on my feet.

I fold the jeans neatly, placing them on the seat beside me. I line up my shoes side-by-side on the floorboard, releasing a massive sigh. Am I really going to do this?

The look on his face tells me I am.

Slowly, I turn my body to face the back of the seat. My knees sink into the soft leather cushion. Gripping the headrest with both hands, I close my eyes.

“Such a good girl. Doing exactly as you're told, for once.” Dastardly. I hold my tongue. He smooths his hands over my panty-covered ass. “These will have to go.”

“I had a feeling.”

He grips the waistband of the garment, tugging them down ‘til they’re around the tops of my knees. His fingers go to the cleft in my ass, spreading my cheeks. “Lean forward a bit.” I obey. Resting my chin on the headrest, I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting this to end.

“Breathe,” he commands.

I try.

The slick, rubber tip is pressing against my asshole. It’s slippery with some kind of lube or gel. When did he have time to apply it? I’m imagining him back there, watching me in this humiliating state, and I keep my eyes shut like if I don’t see it, it’s not happening. Then he’s pushing the toy against my tight, unwilling muscles, and it’s become a reality.

My eyes pop open at the pressure. My heart starts to race, and panic fills my voice. “It’s not going in!”

“Calm down,” he croons, massaging my left ass cheek. He holds the plug in his other hand. “Bear down.”

Like I’m trying to… go to the bathroom.

As if this wasn’t already humiliating enough.

I don’t obey in the appropriate amount of time, and a sharp, punishing spank lands on my ass.

“Okay! Okay!” I don’t need a spanking on top of what is already happening here. I push down. The tip of the toy pushes past my tight ring, a few inches going in. He applies more pressure, and I feel the most expansive part entering my tight hole.

He settles the curved handle between my ass cheeks.

“Ugh.” I feel so… full.

The fullness in my ass is a stark contrast to my pussy. I feel achingly empty like I want something inside me. Is that his goal? To make me want to beg for him?

The strange sensation of having the plug inside my ass does something unexpected. A pool of arousal forms at my pulsing entrance, threatening to draw his attention. My sweet, musky scent reaches me.

“You’re so turned on. You respond to my every touch, don’t you? Your body loves the sensations it gets from me. Look how wet you’re getting for me.”

I want to die.

He gives my ass a satisfied little pat. “All done.” He tugs my panties up my thighs and around my hips, playfully snapping the waistband back into place.

He has me turn around and sit down to put my jeans back on. I do so slowly, gently easing my weight onto the seat. Sitting puts pressure on the handle, pushing against my sensitive skin and making me feel even fuller.

My pussy gets wetter, crying for attention. Her traitorous tears dampen my panties.

This thing is his idea of a sick joke. Then a tortured realization hits me… will he have to take it out himself? Inwardly, I groan. That act will be just as humiliating as it was having him put the diabolical thing inside me.

He kisses me, cupping my face in his hand once more.

I’ve always wondered what my life would have been like if my father hadn’t died when I was a baby. Would he and my mom be together? Would money—or lack thereof—not be an issue?

Would he have protected me from Haze?

Would I have wanted him to?

What a shameful question to ask myself. Of course, I would have wanted my father to stop Haze from entering my bedroom... wouldn’t I?

But I wouldn’t want to be sheltered from every part of the experience. I think of Haze’s fingers inside me, how I begged for him to get me off. The brush of his soft, dark curls against my inner thighs as he nestled his head between my legs.

Then… the heat of his tongue on me.

I’d never felt anything that good before.

Hot and wet, making me feel all squirmy inside, pushing me higher and higher up a cliff until I tumbled off the edge, sliding down into a warm pool of liquid gold. But I never reached the bottom of the pool, and I knew I couldn’t take any more of his torturous teasing. He laughed against me, and I felt the rumble of the sound, the air of his breath on my damp, swollen skin.

And he did it all again—making me experience incredible things I didn’t know existed.

He pulls away now, his hand dropping from my face. I lean against the door, peering out the dark glass, thinking.

It would have been nice to have had a dad. I love my family and know they love me, but I always felt like something was missing. Or more like they held me at arm’s length. It was almost as if they were waiting to see if I would become like my father. Seeing as they never mention his name, I get the idea they weren’t fond of him.

Maybe I look too much like him for them to feel close to me. I wouldn’t know. They didn’t even keep a photo of him.

I know nothing about him other than that he was in a gang when we lived in Scotland—some sort of mafia, one that operated out of the city where I was born, Glasgow. Or were they in Edinburgh?

I don’t even know the name of the group. I vaguely remember a curved cobblestone road leading up to a castle, like Edinburgh Castle.

My dad was carrying me in his arms, holding me tightly. Thrusting me into the arms of a woman wearing the very same pearl necklace I now own. Loud explosions rang out.

Then... nothing. That’s my only memory of my father—and I don’t even know if it’s real, or if I made it up. Mom says I was too little to remember anything, but sometimes, when I come across the scent of cedarwood, I can feel him holding me.

When I was younger, I dreamed of a mom, a dad, maybe a sister or a brother, all of us living in a white house with a yard and trees —one we would own and not move from each year, searching for a cheaper lease.

Can I help that I craved something more for my life?

As Haze said, maybe it was the search for a chosen family .

He’s found it; maybe I can, too. Perhaps it’s time to return to my mafia roots.

Don’t be a fool, Ophelia.

Happy endings don’t begin with abductions.

Captivity is not what I craved. Is this my punishment for not being grateful enough for the family I have? Or should I say, had? I have to be strong now and do what I can to keep them safe. I’ll pretend this is my new, chosen home until I’m left alone. I’m sure the tears will come then, brought on by a lonely quiet, the despair of my hopeless, frustrating situation.

I will not cry. I hate myself for that single tear he saw earlier. There will not be anymore.

I focus on the scenery.

I’m in a freaking Twilight movie. A dense forest spreads around the Estate, creating a thick barrier between the Bachmans and the outside world. We emerge from the trees to find a heaven on earth hidden against the foothills of the Italian Alps.

The craggy mountains provide an evergreen snow-capped backdrop to a beautiful lake. The water spreads along the shore, ripples sparkling over darkness under the moonlight. I’ve seen the unique, vibrant colors of the water in the daytime—a blue-green, even deep aqua.

The massive, original home, the Villa, is four stories high and has walls of windows. It belongs to Liam and Emilia Bachman. We pass smaller guest houses with the same white stucco planted in the grassy green hills that surround the lake.

Each one is a little different and as stunning as the Villa.

Haze’s voice breaks the spell. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“I have to admit, it is.”

I come back to reality. I’m not just moving here—I’m moving here to marry him. And I don’t know when I’ll see my family again.

Tears threaten to come. It’s all too much when I think about it, but I don’t want to break down. I focus on what I need to do next. Be brave and stay strong. I can’t show him weakness. No crying, and absolutely no letting him touch me again.

Like he did while I bucked against his lap, begging him for more… The memory blankets me in shame. That kind of thing cannot happen again. So, I ignore the secret, dangerous desire deep in my core.

I’m craving more. More of his dominance, more of his control. His dark, daddy ways.

We move closer to the sprawling estate, and wide, iron gates slowly open as we approach. The driver pulls through, past what looks like a security building. Men wearing uniforms are going in and out, and shiny, expensive-looking cars are lined up outside. He pulls behind the building to a small, stone lot where he parks the car and exits without a word—leaving me entirely alone with Haze.

I put my sneakers back on.

“Ready to tour your new home?”

“As ready as I can be.” I don’t let the words settle in.

They’re way too much to process. I'll break if I think of this place as my new home. I may let this dangerous man do all sorts of things to my body, but I won’t let him mess with my mind.

Seeing as this man infuriates me, I’m sure there’s no risk of that, but still, as I walk up to the house where I’ll now be living with him, I commit myself to protecting something other than my mind.

I have deep-seated daddy issues. My attraction to Carter was born from loneliness, and I connected with Haze’s statement about the chosen family a little deeper than I’d care to admit.

I’m weak. I’m prone to false attachments. I can’t let myself fall for someone who shows me attention and protection. If I allow him access to me, I must shield the one thing that will sustain the most damage.

My heart.