39. Conrad
I don’t speak to her as we walk back to the car. She’s shaking, shivering, and I’m pretty certain she’s crying too.
I want to grab her face, to slam her against the wall and make her see sense.
Does she not realise what I have given her? How I have raised her up? She’s a Blake now. She’s as close to God as anyone can possibly hope to be.
We step outside, and the cool wind whips around us. She brings her spare arm up to protect herself and if I were a better man, I’d offer her my jacket.
But she deserves to be cold. She deserves to suffer.
Tonight did not go to plan, and a lot of that was because of her.
A servant opens the back door of the car, and I shove her inside before clambering in. As we start driving off, those silent tears turn to something louder, something more pitiful.
I run a hand down my face, contemplating Magnus’s words. One month. I have one month to breed my wife. It shouldn’t be that hard to achieve considering I’ve been fucking her at every opportunity, but I don’t understand why she isn’t carrying my child already. She’s had a god damn fertility jab, for fucks sake.
As she sniffs again, I lose what little patience I have left, and I unclip her seat belt, shove her into the footwell and undo my belt.
She looks up at me with those innocent, tear-stained cheeks and it pisses me off even more.
“Why the fuck are you crying?” I snarl. “Don’t you like my cock?”
She sobs more, her pretty makeup smearing down her cheeks but if anything, that makes her even more stunning.
I grab my cock, giving it a few pumps before I ram it down her throat.
Her eyes widen like she wasn’t expecting it. But why else would I have her on her knees?
I grab her face, pulling her down. It’s hard to lift my hips with the position I’m in, so she’ll have to do all the hard work for a change. Her hands flail, her fingers grab at me, but I don’t give a fuck.
“Take what I give you,” I snarl, forcing her down further. “Take what I give you, you ungrateful bitch.”
And she is ungrateful. She’s spoiled. Selfish. She has no idea the sacrifices I have made for her. The shit I am going through to spare her. I could just as easily put her aside, could find another bitch who would more than happily carry my child, who would be honoured to have her name attached to mine, to a Blake’s. Brynn thinks she’s got it so damn hard when in reality, all she has to do is smile at me and lay in my bed and let me fuck her, and yet she acts like it’s a hardship.
“Fucking bitch,” I spit again, pulling more of her hair.
She tries to speak, no doubt tries to beg, but I won’t hear it.
“I saved you,” I snap, “I fucking saved you, and all you can do is shove it back in my face.”
I can see how her pretty dress is getting ruined, I can see how her nicely done hair is now all matted. I guess that’s another thing I’ll have to sort. Will have to fix.
“I could have done to you what Magnus did to his wife,” I add, “How would you have liked that Brynn? How would you have enjoyed being shared among all my friends? Having each of then fucking your tight little holes all at the same time? Bet your cunt wouldn’t have enjoyed that, bet your arse would have split right open, just like Liliana’s did…”
I shut my eyes, seeing it. Seeing how she’d laid there, how she’d tried to kill herself. I’d even felt a bit sorry for her in the end. At least she’d learned to be contrite, at least she’d learnt her place, unlike my wife here.
“I could shave your head too, I could throw you in a padded cell until you’re a blubbering mess…”
“Please.”
I hear the plea, I hear the way she’s sobbing.
This wife of mine. This fucking wife.
But she has to know. She has to understand. I can’t ease up on her now, I can’t be kind because it won’t do her any good in the long run. Spare the rod, ruin the wife -never has that saying been more apt than with my Brynn.
“I’m going to come,” I groan, “I’m going to come down your throat, and you’re going to lick me clean, do you hear me?”
I don’t wait for a response. I’m too riled up, too fucking furious for that. I push myself one last time, push myself as far down her throat as I can go and I pump away, I pour myself into her, pinching her nose for good measure.
She struggles, she jerks. I know I should let her get her breath, but I don’t. I keep myself there, I keep myself right where I am, knowing that she really is suffocating.
She starts to slow, she starts to gasp more, as if her lungs are truly empty, and that’s when I let her go, that’s when I release her.
She falls back, her head resting on my abdomen as she takes long, desperate breaths of air.
“I’m waiting,” I say and she looks up with bloodshot eyes.
No, I won’t give her a moment. No, I won’t go easy. This bitch is giving me a raging headache, so it’s only fair she feels some of that pain.
She shudders, dropping her gaze and then slowly, tentatively she begins to lick my cock.
We pull up to the house, and I’m definitely calmer than I was. Having Brynn caressing my dick the rest of the way home helped.
I wonder if I’ve made my point. I wonder if I’ve finally got through to her, though I doubt it.
When we come to a stop, I take a moment to do my trousers up. Brynn is still in the footwell, and I get out, then stand there waiting as she has to crawl onto the drive before she can stand.
Her cheeks are flushed, and though that could be from shame, I wonder if part of that is from her practically asphyxiating.
We walk in silence back to her room. When I open the door, I tell her to take her dress off and lie on the bed. There’s a flicker there, a moment of hesitation that tells me that my wife is still going to be a problem, but she does it. She slides that rich fabric down her skin and then lies down, staring at the ceiling.
I stand there, watching her for a moment. Even at points like this, when she makes me so mad I can’t even think straight, I still want her. I still need her more than any other woman.
I let out a sigh, shutting the door, going to get the things I need. She won’t like this. She won’t like any of what I have planned, but ultimately I’ll win this round, just like I win all of them.
When I walk back in I half expect her to be gone, to be up, to have disobeyed me. It makes me pause to see her there, lying in that exact same position, as if she hasn’t dared to move a muscle.
“I see you’re finally learning.” I mutter.
She doesn’t look at me. She just carries on staring at the ceiling. Perhaps this is her plan now, the silent treatment. My lips curl, because I’d rather her silent and sullen than openly defying me, so I guess this is a win.
I place the blow torch and the antique down on the side. In my hand, I keep the syringe and she chooses that exact moment to look down, to see it.
“No…” She whimpers.
“It’s not going to hurt,” I tut.
“Conrad, please…” God, it makes my cock twitch when she says my name, when she begs me. Even if she’s not begging me for something nice, it still does something to me.
I clamber onto the bed. She tries to move, to get away, and I yank her back.
“Trust me, Brynn.” I say.
“I don’t, I don’t trust you at all,” She cries.
“If I don’t sedate you, it’ll hurt more. Do you want that? More pain?”
Her eyes dart to the blowtorch and she clearly panics more. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t…” I don’t know what she thinks I’m planning. Does she think I’m going to burn her eyes out? Burn her face off? What would be the point in that? No one wants to fuck an ugly wife, do they?
I let out a growl, grabbing her by her throat and I pin her down before jabbing the needle into her neck, sinking the plunger.
“Sleep, wife,” I say, like she has any choice. “Sleep and when you wake, you’ll have such a lovely surprise.”
Her feet kick out, her eyes continue to plead for a few more seconds and then her pupils dilate, she calms, she relaxes and then she passes out entirely.
I get off her, grab the blowtorch and the brand, immediately starting to heat it up. I know I contemplated doing this before, but tonight, tonight it feels necessary.
I want to mark her in a way that is permanent. I want to mark her in a way that she cannot remove.
But more than that, I want Magnus to see her next time. I want Liliana to see it, I want every fucking person to see it and know what it means. Magnus thinks his wife is so fucking special, that he’s allowed to break the rules but because he doesn’t see how precious my wife is, I’m not allowed to do the same?
From now on, I want him to look at her and know that she means as much to me as that whore.
The metal takes a good while to heat. It doesn’t help that the flame isn’t that big, but patience is a virtue and I’m more than happy to wait for this one.
When it’s finally ready, I toss the torch, barely caring if it burns a hole in the carpet.
I want this to be perfect, I want to turn her into a work of art. Afterall, she’ll carry this for the rest of her life.
I clamber over her body, making sure it is perfectly straight and then in one quick movement I press the thing into her chest. Right above her cleavage. It burns. It actually hisses. I can see a bit of smoke coming off, and the unpleasant stench of burning flesh makes my nose wrinkle. I’m not sure how long it needs to be on there, but I want to make sure every little bit of my family’s crest is visible.
Liliana’s brand wasn’t done with such precision. When I look at it, I can see it’s a tiny bit off centre. That not all of the detail came through.
My wife will suffer no such insult.
I pull it off, seeing the bright red, bloodied and blistered flesh all moulded around and forced to take on the shape of two lions and a shield. Fuck, it’s magnificent. It’s even better than I imagined.
I take more care with the brand; it is a family heirloom after all. I place it so that the hot end isn’t touching anything and then I’m cleaning up the wound, sterilising it the way I read, before putting a big white bandage over it.
It’ll take a few days before I can show her what I’ve done but when she wakes, she’ll know anyway. Besides, she doesn’t have to see it, not when she knows I’ve done it right.
I sink back down, feeling for the first time in hours, like I’m back in control.
She looks so peaceful now, like sleeping beauty. All patient and waiting for her Prince Charming to come save her.
I guess it wouldn’t hurt, would it? She is after all, my property.
My lips twitch as I pull my clothes off and spread her legs wide. Normally she’d be fighting me in some way, normally she’d be protesting. It’s nice to not have that for once. It’s nice to remember how we were the first time.
I push myself inside her. She’s not as wet as I usually find her, but then, I did just burn a bloody great big hole into her skin. Even if she isn’t aware of it, her body will be.
I run my hands down over her soft skin, cupping her breasts, taking my time while I have it.
“So beautiful,” I murmur, “So fucking beautiful.”
Her lips don’t react as I lean in and kiss her. I pull her jaw open just enough and slip my tongue inside.
I can still taste the hint of our dinner there. Perhaps I should have made her brush her teeth before bed? I guess it doesn’t really matter now.
With my hips, I start thrusting, working my cock in and out. This time it doesn’t feel like I have to race, like I have to dominate. I can fuck her slowly; I can take all the time I want. I can stay here all night, buried in her cunt, revelling in the feel of her.
It’s like I’m back in that room in the Monclere house. Only, thankfully her bitch of an aunt isn’t there, spoiling it.
“I love you so much,” I murmur.
All I want is for her to say it back. All I want is for her to open her eyes, to reach for me, to kiss me.
Why is that so hard? Why does she have to still fight me?
I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want to do any of that, but she won’t let me love her, she won’t just give in.
“I’d be so good to you,” I state, brushing her hair back, “I’d buy you so many jewels, so many pretty dresses too. You’d be the envy of all your friends, all the other Brethren Ladies. Wherever you went people would watch you. You’d be able to go to the parks, to the beach. We could enjoy ourselves together, we could…”
I screw my hands up, forcing myself not to squeeze them around her damned neck.
She’s the one ruining this. She’s the one ruining all of this.
I just want her to love me. I just want that one simple thing. Why is that too much to ask?