Chapter 10
MELANIE
Oh god, oh god, oh god. I can’t believe this is happening. Can’t believe I’m actually married to this brute of a man.
There’s no way that ceremony was legally binding. I didn’t even say “I do” and there was no paperwork, nothing the government would recognize.
But clearly Axel and his entire family consider us married, which feels…
important in a way I can’t quite define.
And I’ve been raised to believe that saying those vows under the eye of God means something, so even though I didn’t actually say them, I still feel the weight of them sitting in my chest as my new husband hauls me close to him, his dark eyes burning with need.
And it’s then, staring up into Axel’s ravenous eyes, that Eli’s final words really register.
You may now claim your bride.
Not kiss. Claim.
Oh god.
The thought of his thick cock pushing inside me, splitting me open has my heart pounding even faster than it already was. I thought I was going to die when I let Lyle take my virginity and he wasn’t half as large as Axel. How much worse is it going to hurt now?
Maybe it won’t hurt at all. Maybe it just hurt that first time because it was the first time.
That’s what I’ve heard from some of the girls at church, the ones who sneak around with boys on Saturday nights and then show up for services on Sunday looking all pressed and clean like the virgins they pretend to be.
“Chivaree!”
The loud cry, along with the sudden jarring sound of clanging metal has me jerking in Axel’s hold. What the fuck is going on?
Apparently oblivious to cacophony around us, Axel sweeps me off my feet—literally—and carries me past Eli to a long buffet-style table, the top made of gleaming natural wood while the cabinets and sides are all painted a deep teal.
Laying me atop the smooth wood with a gentleness that seems counterintuitive to everything I’ve experienced at his hands so far, he smiles down at me.
“So perfect,” he murmurs, running a finger along the side of my damp cheek. “And all mine.”
My pussy apparently has not gotten the memo that we aren’t into this, because the traitorous bitch clenches at his words as if anticipating being ripped wide open. In one last desperate appeal to whatever humanity he may have left in him, I let every bit of terror I’m feeling show in my eyes.
But it does nothing to sway my husband, who only runs his fingertip down to my nipple.
My hands are still clasped around the hairbrush he used to punish me earlier and they’ve come to rest between my breasts as if in prayer.
And I’m hit with the thought that I must look exactly how I felt earlier—a sacrifice laid out on the altar of their depravity, waiting to be consumed and defiled by this wicked god who calls himself my Daddy.
The whole time, the noise around us never quiets. If anything, the cheering and clanging only grows louder as Axel takes my nipple between his fingers, giving the tender bud a hard squeeze that has me arching up, a pained cry ripping from my throat as agony lances through my breast.
“Shh, little one. Daddy will kiss it and make it all better.”
Lowering his head, he does exactly that, taking my throbbing nipple between his lips to soothe the ache. And again my body betrays me, confusing this pain with pleasure as my clit pulses in time with my racing heart.
As he eases the pain in one nipple, his fingers find my other, clamping down again with another jolt of pain that leaves me panting and writhing atop my makeshift altar.
My mind is scrambled with this confusing mixture of pleasure and agony, struggling to make sense of my own reactions as he works his way down my body.
Down to my diaper.
Humiliation once more rises up, scorching every inch of my skin as he tugs the tabs free and lays me bare to the dancing, cheering crowd around us. With the pacifier still strapped to my mouth, I can’t even plead for him to stop, to take me upstairs to the privacy of his bedroom.
If I’m to be defiled tonight, I would at least like it to happen without an audience.
Some of my whining must be making an impression, though, because he again tries to quiet me. “It’s all right, little runaway. Daddy is going to take good care of you.”
And then his mouth is on me, his tongue sliding between my shamefully soaked lips, teasing that sensitive bundle of nerves just inside me.
When I manage to wriggle backward on the altar, away from his questing tongue, he simply wraps his arms around my thighs and yanks me back toward him with a low growl that vibrates against my clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my system.
Pleasure that only adds to my humiliation. Because I should not be enjoying this. I should not want this, should not crave the next touch of his tongue, or fingers or, god help me, his cock. Everything about what he is doing to me is shameful and wicked and wrong.
And I must be even more wicked and wrong than he is, because I do want more. Tears slip from my eyes as a familiar pressure grows low in my belly with every swipe of his tongue over my swollen clit.
Pulling that aching bud between his lips, he sucks and the pressure increases, making me writhe against the altar for entirely different reasons now.
Instead of escape, all I seek is some kind of relief from the pressure.
From the need growing inside me. Desperate and clawing, with razor-sharp fingers digging into me, dragging to the knife’s edge of sanity.
And then it happens. That pressure inside me shatters and pleasure floods my veins, hot and molten and so exquisite I think I might actually die from it. So strong it rips yet another scream from my throat, muffled as it is from the pacifier and my mind goes completely and utterly blank.
What the fuck was that? I would call it an orgasm, but it was so much more than anything I’ve ever been able to give myself before that the word fails to fully capture the enormity of what just happened to me.
My mind and body are still reeling from the maelstrom of pleasure when something thick presses against my entrance. Forcing me to open for him, an act I no longer have the strength or the will to fight as he pushes inside me.
He’s… huge. Somehow even larger than I realized when I had him down my throat, and there’s a burning pain as my body gives way, adapting for the size of him.
“Fuck.” The single syllable is little more than a groan as his fingers grip my hips, digging into the soft flesh there as he rocks against me. “That’s it, babygirl. Squeeze Daddy’s cock with that pretty little pussy. Just like that, little one.”
All around us, the sounds of celebration swell even louder, his family cheering us on as my husband claims me for the first time right here on this altar. It’s horrible and humiliating and sinful.
And my body is enjoying every single second.
Without conscious thought, my hips lift to greet him, welcoming him in as the thick length of him threatens to split me wide open.
My hands, still clasped in this blasphemous parody of prayer, tighten around the brush as that odd pressure from before begins to build inside me again.
Pain and pleasure meld together, a deliciously diabolical cocktail that makes my head swim and fresh tears pour from my eyes.
His fingers tighten on my hips, another flash of pain that only drives my burgeoning pleasure higher as his movements grow increasingly frantic.
And I know then his brother was right. This is a claiming, the most brutal and beastial kind.
With every stroke of his cock inside me, I become more and more his.
Until, at last, that pressure inside me shatters again, pleasure flooding my veins once more in time with Axel’s roar of release, and the warm, sticky feeling of his cum filling me up. His family’s cheering reaches a crescendo, joining in with our climax.
Staring down at me, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath, Axel smiles, his heavy beard shifting with the movement.
“Welcome to the family, my little runaway.”
Axel
It’s agony, forcing myself to pull free of my Little one’s tight little cunt. But she took me so well, especially for our first time, and she deserves a reward.
Wrapping the diaper around her again, a deep pleasure, primal and possessive, wells in my chest. She’ll spend the rest of the evening with her diaper full of Daddy’s cum until she finally uses it for the first time and I’m forced to change her.
The thought of my babygirl using her diaper fills me with a joy unlike anything else I’ve experienced, but I can admit I’m disappointed at the thought of her diaper no longer being full of my cum.
Perhaps I’ll just have to fuck her whenever she uses the it, to keep my essence stuck to her skin every second of every day.
With the thick cotton back in place, I gently pull the ropes from her hands and pass the hairbrush off to a grinning Gray before removing the pacifier gag and tucking it in my pocket in case it’s needed later.
Scooping Melanie up from the table-turned-altar, I hold her against me, her head resting on my shoulder as I sway back and forth.
“Such a good girl you are, my sweet little Lanie.”
“Nobody calls me that.” Her words are slurred with exhaustion, making her sound even younger than ever.
“Your Daddy does. And your new family will. It can be our special thing, just for us, if you want.” Yeah. I like the sound of that. A new name for her new life with her new family.
Music, softer and sweeter than the clanging my family subjected us to during the consummation of our marriage fills the room.
It’s an older melody, one I can remember our parents dancing to in the kitchen before they were taken from us, and emotion lodges in my throat as I spin my babygirl around in circles.
Our first dance as husband and wife. I wish my parents could be here to see this.
Beside me, Colt has his arms looped around his twin’s neck while Bram rolls his eyes and tries to hide a smile as they sway together.
Dane has Gray in his arms, moving her around the room in a complicated-looking waltz he must somehow still remember from the brief stint of time our mama forced us into ballroom dancing lessons when we were teens so we could be “proper gentlemen”.
Then there’s Eli, leaning against the makeshift altar where I just claimed my bride, watching over the dancing with an unreadable expression on his face.
Ford is nowhere to be found, and anger stabs at my chest. I know he was against this marriage, but I did expect him to be at least somewhat involved in the celebrations.
Something to discuss with him once I have my Little one settled.
The music changes, shifting to something more modern and upbeat, and I carry Lanie over to one of the couches, settling with her on my lap. “How are you feeling, baby?”
“Tired. Cold.”
“Here.” Gray appears seemingly out of nowhere to drape a blanket over my Little girl’s naked form. “I’ll run upstairs, see if I have any pajamas that might fit her. Or one of Daddy’s t-shirts, perhaps.”
It’s only then that it hits me how wholly unprepared I am for a Little girl of my own.
While the nursery has been set up for some time and we have plenty of milk and diapers on hand, it seemed pointless to order clothes without knowing the sizes we’d need, or what our Little ones might enjoy.
How am I supposed to keep her warm and safe without proper clothes?
Some of the panic I’m feeling must show on my face, because Gray claps a hand on my shoulder and lets out a low laugh.
“Relax, Daddy. We got this. Until the snow clears, she can borrow clothes as needed. In the meantime, we can get her measurements and send a message to Maxwell to have some clothes shipped once the roads are clear again. For now, you just focus on your babygirl and Auntie Gray will handle the rest.”
With that, she heads for the stairs and gratitude warms my chest.
I may be wholly unprepared for the finer points of being a Daddy, but what I'm not is alone. I’ll have Gray and my brothers here, every step of the way.
I’ll have my family.