Chapter Thirty-Three
Livia
My body still pulses from my orgasms, but I try to drag my brain completely out of the haziness. And now thoughts fly through my head with piercing clarity. Bears, honey, and bees.
My mom’s stories were only about the battle against the bear shifters when they took a willing Goldenia as their bride. If there were tales about any rituals, she was not privy to them.
“Our ancestors were once bear shifters, but that didn’t mean they gave up who they were as men, as well,” Callen says.
“The way they breed their bride was one of them,” Deacon adds as the three of them each take a jar and seat themselves on three throne-like white chairs. My view of them is clear and unhindered.
I’m lost in the unknown, and my gaze vacillates between the jars containing the bees in their hands and the way they’re seated like three kings. I can’t even imagine what they’re going to do, and my voice has deserted me as I continue watching them in sheer fascination but with an undercurrent of unease and apprehension.
I don’t know what they’re going to do, and every moment that goes by adds to my anxiety. I stay seated in the chair, my legs crushed together now as I sit upright.
Deacon, Callen, and Mason gently shake the bees in the jar before they unscrew the lid. My mouth dries and my heart is pounding so much that I feel it in my head.
I can’t help the jolting gasp that spills from my lips. I’m too shocked to comprehend what I’m seeing, and I wonder if I’m possibly imagining it.
After unscrewing the lids from the jars, Deacon, Callen, and Mason deftly slip their cocks into the cylinder. And the bees are still inside them.
My gaze flips up to their faces to find their eyes glued to me. I’ve forgotten how to breathe, my pulse pounds so hard it hurts my skin. My focus dips back down to their cocks. Oh god, what are they doing?
I watch in stunned anguish as Deacon throws his head back, and a roar falls from his mouth. Callen and Mason follow suit. But before I can swing my legs off the chair and go to them—to do what I don’t know—Deacon stops me with a firm, rough command.
“Stay where you are.”
I right myself on the chair again, my legs drawn up to my chest, my gaze fixated as the men before me grit through what can only be unbearable pain to their cocks. Every muscle in their cocks bulge, their veins expand, and they look even bigger than they usually are.
I want to tell them to stop. I see the pain wracking their bodies. A river of sweat drizzles down their hard, layered abs, and tormented breaths expand from their sculpted chests. They’ve removed the jars and I can already see their cocks swelling. I blink and the tears filling my eyes roll down my face.
Dear god.
It’s too agonizing to watch the tsunami waves of pain that wash over them, yet at the same time, they are still magnificent, brilliant, and unbelievably gorgeous.
“Fuck.” Their chorused expletive ricochets off the walls and pulls me into the vortex of their pain. I don’t know what to do to help them and my helplessness kills me.
“Open your legs, Livia.” Mason’s hoarse command filters through my thoughts.
“What?” I whisper, confused.
“Open your legs, right now,” Callen says. “Please.”
I lean slightly back and part my knees, aware I’m still wet from my orgasms before. Despite a crimson blush that sweeps over me at the display of my pussy and how their gazes are now fixed on the most intimate part of my body, Callen’s plea overrides everything
“Touch yourself,” Deacon says softly, clenching his jaw and his fists.
My mouth opens in protest. I can’t…
“Fuck. Touch yourself, Livia. Do it now.” The agony in Deacon’s voice sends me scrambling to obey him. The urgency in his voice makes what he wants me to do important.
I slip my hand between my legs and I’m completely drenched. My clit swells and my heart starts to rocket in my chest. My gaze alternates between their faces and their cocks, swelling before my eyes, getting bigger than they were before.
“Make yourself come, pretty girl.”
“Make yourself so wet you’ll be able to take us in your pussy.”
My eyes widen and part of me wants to run away. They were too big for me when they took my virginity, but now... I can’t possibly take them. They’ll break me.
“It’s the only way. Only your pussy can soothe away this fucking torture in our balls.”
“Only your wetness can douse the fire destroying our cocks, Livia. Sweetheart, you have to make yourself wetter. There can’t be any lube between us. Nothing can taint our seed when it enters your body.”
“And if you’re not wet enough, it’s going to hurt even more.”
“But when we come inside you, you’ll take our seed and give us a child.”
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.
I slide my fingers over my clit, repeatedly, unsolicited tears streaming down my cheeks as I try to make myself come. In the back of my mind, I fully understand this ritual as part of who they are. Their ancestors were bear shifters. Bears and honey go hand in hand. Honey and bees. This is what Goldenia had to go through to become their bride, in every sense of the word. This was how she became pregnant with their children.
I’m driven by the sight before me. I want to help them, I want to soothe the burn in their cocks with my wetness, but I’m also terrified, and part of me really just wants to run and hide.
I rub myself harder, guided by the way they’re looking at me, despite their levels of pain. I have to make this right for them, and at that moment, my head lifts up from the backrest, and I come with a soul-wrenching cry.
What if I can’t take them…?
Deacon comes to me, and before I know it, he’s strapped my ankles into the restraints at the foot of the chair, rendering me completely bound.
He stands between my parted legs and guides his cock to my dripping-wet center. Instinctively, I try to move away, but it’s impossible—I’m held in place by the leather cuffs on my ankles.
He parts my folds with the now infinitely wider width of the head of his shaft, and then he penetrates me, slowly but purposefully, wrecking my body in the process.
I start to pant so heavily that I get dizzy. Dear god, I can’t. He’s going to break me in half. I struggle under him, using my hands against his chest.
“I can’t,” I whisper, my throat drying as if I’ve been screaming nonstop. My body clenches up tightly, and my pussy clamps down on his bludgeoning thickness, refusing him any further entry into my body.
“Please,” Deacon says softly, huskily, still wrought with sheer agony as he pushes through my weak resistance and continues to stretch open the walls of my pussy to accommodate his unbearable size. I thought they were mammoth before, but I was wrong. My body wasn’t made for this….
Deacon thrusts inside me and draws another gut-wrenching wail from me. I toss my head from side to side, pushing at him with what little strength I have left. My body goes into shock. My thoughts blank.
For a moment, everything around me stands still as if time stopped. Demi’s voice echoes in my head. Kirill Yenin… my father… and yet all I can see are these three men, who have taken me under their protection for no reason whatsoever. They could so easily give me back and remove the threat to their seats on the underground round table. I’m a nobody. Why are they keeping me when I come with such immense risks, all because my father sold me to a criminal maniac?
I’m no one to them….