"You have an exquisite taste, my courtesan," he whispered.
His voice was a gravelly rasp, heavy with a desire that made me shudder to my very marrow. The word "courtesan" echoed inside my mind like a slur, an indelible label he had just pressed onto my forehead with a hot iron. Yet, my body no longer seemed to obey my will. I was a prisoner in a whirlwind of clashing sensations. In a gesture of pure despair, or perhaps to anchor myself to reality, I gripped his dark hair. My fingers sank into the silky strands, pulling with a strength I did not know I possessed. He growled against my skin, a sound of wild pleasure mixed with a hint of annoyance, like a lion being challenged by its tamer.
He accelerated his caresses. His tongue traced circular movements with a sadistic precision that left me breathless. It was a refined torture, a blend of brutality and softness that made me lose all sense of direction. I pulled harder on his hair, my head thrown back on the silk pillow, desperately trying to focus on anything other than this devastating pleasure seizing me. But his fingers, agile and ruthless, gave me no respite. Every gesture was calculated to make me oscillate between the agony of shame and a forbidden ecstasy that felt like falling from a great height.
"Duke... oh God... I... I..."
My voice broke, dying out in a jagged, pathetic breath. I did not recognize the sound of my own soul. Where was the modest Lydia who used to blush at a simple look from Arthur across the town square? A sharp slap suddenly stung the inside of my thigh, making me flinch violently against the sheets. The physical shock brought me back to reality for a heartbeat before a storm of sensations hit me with full force. It was a hurricane, an electric current running through my veins like a whip. I arched my back, my hands clamping over my mouth to stifle the screams that threatened to wake the entire castle.
"Do not hold back," he ordered in a deep voice, steeped in absolute authority. "I want to hear you. I want to hear the sound of your spirit breaking."
He intensified the rhythm, pushing me to my very limits until my vision began to swim. A wave of heat washed over me, carrying me onto a cloud of cotton whose fall promised to be painful beyond measure. My body betrayed me completely. I trembled like a leaf in a winter storm, not from cold, but under the weight of an unknown sensation, a pleasure so sharp it flirted with the edge of pain. A cry finally escaped from between my fingers, then another, more powerful, as I let the groundswell submerge me totally.
When the wave finally ebbed, I felt hollowed out and exhausted. It was as if my soul had flown away through the open balcony to leave only a bruised, empty shell behind. My breathing was nothing but an erratic, desperate whistle in the dark. I felt his gaze weighing on me, burning and victorious, but I refused to open my eyelids. Shame flooded me with more force than the previous pleasure. I realized with a mounting horror the state I had left him in, and that thought was the only thing I could remember with precision.
"Look at me," he ordered again, his voice charged with a desire that had not yet reached its peak.
He began to play with my skin again, his touch light but demanding, making me shiver despite the exhaustion numbing my limbs.
"Look at who you belong to, Lydia. Look at the person who just took you to the heavens and back."
I turned my head away, burying my face into the pillow, my mind haunted by the image of Arthur's gentle face. I suddenly felt a firm, inflexible grip on my chin, forcing my face back toward him. The strength in his hand was a reminder that I was his property now.
"Lydia, do not force me to punish you further for your stubbornness," he said in a threatening tone, though his lips brushed light, mocking kisses against mine. "Look at me!"
I finally opened my eyes, my gaze drowned in tears meeting his charcoal grey irises. They were dark, almost black with a lust that seemed bottomless. His face was marked by the heat of our embrace, and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, an unbearable burn of embarrassment that made me want to wither away.
"Look at how much you yielded to me," he whispered with a triumph that chilled my blood.
He captured my lips in a brutal kiss, marking his possession once more before he pulled back. I heard the rustle of expensive fabric as he pulled his shirt back over his broad shoulders, his muscles flexing with feline grace under the moonlight. The metallic click of a belt buckle echoed in the silence of the room like a warning bell for my execution. The sound of leather snapping and the heavy slide of a zipper felt like an electric shock to my system. I instinctively writhed, trying to crawl toward the edge of the bed to escape the coming storm, but he was faster than any human I had ever known. He pressed his powerful body against mine, pinning me to the mattress with the weight of a mountain.
"Duke, please..." I stammered, my eyes filling with fresh tears of distress.
I had no time to plead my case or offer more of my labor. He pressed his lips against mine again to stifle my complaints, his mouth tasting of the wine he had drank earlier. I felt a slow intrusion, a finger sliding inside me with an almost ironic precaution that made my heart hammer against my ribs.
"Damn... you are so tight," he groaned against my mouth, his breathing quickening until it matched my own frantic pace.
He began a back and forth motion, preparing my body for what was to follow, while his thumb continued to torment the small center of my being. I was caught in a vice of opposing sensations, my body responding to his provocations while my mind screamed for him to stop. His movements became sharper and more impatient.
"Duke... I... I am going to... again," I moaned, feeling the tension rise despite my will to stay frozen.
"Say it... order it," he growled, his voice vibrating in his chest. "Say that I am the one doing this to you. Own your shame, Lydia."
He did not give me time to answer. A second wave, more devastating than the first, slammed into me, leaving me panting and defenseless on the silk. I closed my eyes, hoping everything would end there, that sleep would wrap around me like a shield. But a sensation of strange, crushing fullness at the entrance of my intimacy made my brow furrow in confusion and fear. It was too massive to be a finger.
I opened my eyes to beg him to stop, but it was already too late. He slid into me with a slow, determined movement that felt like being split in two. A cry of pure pain escaped me. This was no longer pleasure; it was a tearing, an intrusion that made me feel broken from the inside out. My nails sank into his muscular back, scratching him until I felt the warmth of blood on my fingertips, but he seemed to feel nothing at all. He stared at me with an unreadable, almost mystical light in his eyes, while my face drowned under a river of tears. The pain was unbearable, a massive presence filling my vitals and preventing me from breathing. My chest heaved at a dizzying speed, searching for air I could no longer find in the suffocating luxury of this room.
"Relax, Lydia..." he whispered, leaning down to plant a light kiss on my tear-stained cheek.
His voice had become surprisingly soft, almost protective, which made the situation even more terrifying. It was the comfort of a captor to his bird.
"It hurts... it is too much..." I sobbed, my body rejecting this sensation of total invasion.
He smiled at me, a smile that, in another life, might have seemed tender, before sealing my lips with a deep kiss. He seemed to take my plea as a compliment to his virility, while I felt only the crushing weight of my sacrifice.
I lay there, petrified beneath him, as he began to move with a calculated slowness. Every movement was a torture that reminded me I no longer belonged to myself. I was no longer the miller's daughter who loved the smell of the earth. I was no longer Arthur's fiancé who dreamed of a simple life. I had become a thing, an object of pleasure for Duke Alaric.
As he pushed deeper, I stared at the richly decorated ceiling of the room, focusing on the painted angels who looked down with empty eyes. I wondered how long my heart could endure this torment before fading out entirely. The moon, a silent witness to my fall, continued to shine with indifference through the window, while my moan of pain lost itself in the heavy velvet curtains.