Chapter Eighteen
Livia
Deacon’s large, strong hand swoops into the hair at my nape. He pulls my head back, and my whole body slams against his rock-solid one. Before I can register what’s happening to me, he’s bent me over the breakfast table.
The leather of his custom-made shoes brushes against the inside of my calf as he forces me to part my legs. I’m defenseless to do otherwise.
Callen reaches for me from the opposite side of the table and takes my hands in his, drawing me forward until I’m forced onto the tips of my bare feet, my breasts crushed against the surface of the tablecloth.
The T-shirt I’m wearing slides up into the curve of my back, and soft, warm air whispers over my naked ass. I’m not wearing underwear because I don’t know what they did with my clothes. Dammit.
No matter how hard I struggle, I can’t so much as move an inch under their hold. My words mean nothing to them, as well.
“Let me go. You have no right to do this to me. I want to go home. Why can’t you understand that?”
My body rattles with aggravated fury but also with fear. Despite my fight to be freed, I can’t ignore the catastrophic sensations going through me. My nipples harden, and it’s clear that even more wetness now clings to my already damp pussy. And I can’t blame the drug anymore.
“You’re such a naughty girl,” Mason says, coming into my vision. He swirls his finger around the rim of a jar that looks like it contains butter but is a bit darker. “With so many infractions to your name.”
I turn my head toward Deacon on the other side of me. He’s removed his jacket and in one terrifying motion, he slides his belt out through the loops of his suit trousers. My thudding heart slips into a hard, frantic gallop, and I renew my efforts to escape.
What more are they going to do to me?
“Taking your wedding ring off your finger like that and then not putting it back on when instructed is a major transgression, Livia.” How can Callen’s voice be so soothing when he’s literally delivering my damnation?
“You may have forged my signature, and you may get away with it, but I’m not married to any of you. I would never be married to men like you—”
I’ll never underestimate how quickly they can move again. My sentence lies incomplete between us, silenced instead by a whooshing sound and then the crack of leather on my bare butt.
For precious moments, I feel nothing but a simmering heat until I release the breath I’ve been holding. My entire body and my whole world light up in flames as I now fully register the burning sting laid across the flesh of my ass, made with Deacon’s belt. He doesn’t give me much grace to reassemble my thoughts before he strikes me again. Right on the same spot, echoing the fire raging inside me but twice as hard.
Oh god.
I cry out, sobbing without control, forgetting my pride, and turning into a hot, weak mess. When he delivers his third strike, a thunderous bolt of fury explodes inside me. I use all my might to jerk myself free of Callen’s hold on my hands, but the man keeps me effortlessly in place.
“You egotistical psychos. Let me go. You have no right to do this to me. I’m going to kill you. Let me go right now.”
“Do you promise never to remove your wedding ring again… once we replace it, that is?” Callen asks softly.
“I would rather chop off my finger than wear your ring. I. Would. Rather. Chop. Off. My. Finger,” I repeat, tears running down my cheeks, my hair all over my face, my butt exposed and red from Deacon’s belt, and my pussy undeniably wet.
Why? What is wrong with me? How can my body do this? I sob then, not only because my backside is stinging but also because I can’t believe my body would betray me this way.
“I was going to ask you to say that again, but since you repeated it already, maybe this will help you change your mind.” Mason picks up the jar of butter.
“Honey butter,” he says, grinning, and my pussy lips flutter at the chuckle that emits from his perfectly sculptured mouth. “Honey, because, you know, bears,” he continues lightly and moves in behind me.
“Wait, what are you going to do?”
I jerk and try to twist my body around, but Mason disappears behind me. Dear god, I can’t take this anymore.
Rough, calloused, and huge hands part my ass cheeks. My panic response is triggered so severely that I see stars.
“No. No, wait.”
I’m going to break my body if I continue trying to get out of Callen’s grip and if I continue twisting around to see behind me.
“Naughty little brides get punished with honey butter if they don’t wear their wedding rings like good little brides,” Mason says.
My eyes shut closed. My body seizes up. My nipples turn into rock-hard pebbles and ache so much that I press them against the table. The level of my ignominy is shattered. Fresh, copious amounts of wetness seep from the folds of my pussy onto the skin of my inner thighs.
Mason glides his finger, covered in butter, down the crack of the most intimate, untouchable part of me. I want to die. The embarrassment piles up inside me like a car crash. And still, his touch makes me wet.
He takes more butter, and this time, while Deacon keeps my cheeks parted, Mason pushes his finger into me, spreading the rings of my tightly guarded hole.
My body jolts, and I clench up so tightly that I refuse to breathe.
Mason pushes in deeper, demolishing my weak resistance against his forbidden touch.
“Fuck, she’s so tight, she’s going to break my finger. Fucking perfect,” he murmurs as he twirls his finger around inside me, not deep enough that I can feel his knuckle but deep enough that he creates a dizzying web around me.
“The answer we want is: Yes, I’ll wear my wedding ring at all times.”
“Fuck you,” I growl, and that’s the wrong thing to say.
My breath scrambles out of me, deserting me when I need it most.
Mason retracts his finger from me. The tight rings of my butt clench shut so hard that he would never be able to penetrate me ever again, I hope.
Except now he makes a grand show of dipping two of his digits into honey butter.
Dear god. I almost died under the strain of just one finger. Two will surely break me completely.
I lift my gaze to Callen, pleading with my eyes for him to let me go. He doesn’t.
Mason slips back in behind me. The surface bruises on the flesh of my butt, thanks to Deacon’s belt blazes anew. Every part of me sizzles. But I vow I won’t say a word, not even so much as a squeak. They’ll get nothing out of me.
Until Mason, standing on my left, uses the buttered-up fingers of his right hand and strokes my bottom hole at the same time as Deacon reaches under me, running his fingers down my dripping wet slit.
I try so hard to escape their touch, knowing my treacherous body is going to betray me again, but I’m useless against them.
Before I can formulate any words of negotiation, Mason thrusts his two fingers inside my asshole until this time I feel his knuckles against my flesh. My piercing roar at his intrusion into my body is quickly capped with an uncharacteristic moan as Deacon slips his two fingers into my pussy.
The fullness threatens to splinter me apart, and the fear of it happening blasts through me until it reaches my eyes and I start to sob. Despite the soreness in my pussy, wetness wells up inside me and drips down Deacon’s fingers.
Callen strokes my hands with the pads of his thumbs softly, tenderly, and commandingly, breaking me away from the excruciating pressure against the walls of my womb and the thinness that separates my pussy from my anus.
Mason swirls his fingers around in the extremely tight confines of my bottom hole before he uses his left hand and reaches for my drenched clit. Deacon settles even deeper inside my pussy, thrusting his fingers in and out of me. The sound of my wetness echoes around the room, drumming to the beat of my humiliation.
Tears fly freely from my eyes. My body throbs mercilessly, both in pain from having my asshole penetrated and the disturbing pleasure from having my pussy filled. I have no more fight left in me.
Mason increases the rhythm of his touch on my clit, corrupting every sane thought I have and opening up the dark side of me—the side I can’t control.
I can’t let this happen. Every time they do this to me, they take away a little more of my armor. I have to stop them. I have to say what they want to hear.