Chapter 12 Kane
KANE
Metal clinks against metal as I loosely hold the leather loop of the leash while Delilah limps behind me with her chin tucked to her chest. It takes effort to stop myself looking at her as I thread my fist through the loop, wrapping the chain around my knuckles.
Fuck me, she’s so fucking strong.
She doesn’t exude it by arguing or screaming. It’s a mental strength, allowing her to fall to her hands and knees even though she knows she’s going to be mocked.
I’ve been ridiculed, humiliated, had my worst moments announced, yet I would rather die than experience it again.
Delilah’s so in control of her mind, she can push the temporary humiliation aside to achieve her goal as I walk her through the kitchen, past her parents and Helene, who pause drinking their tea.
From the age of six, I was enamored by her.
Now, as a man, nearly thirty years later, I’m in awe of her.
The type of awe that inspires the creation of religions and deities.
Dropping to my knees to worship her as she deserves isn’t a possibility, so we’re both going to be sore from spending the night on the ledge away from Helene’s surveillance.
My beautiful wife forces her arms to tremble as she pushes her weight down to make sure the monsters see me as one of them.
I never thought I’d miss hiding my identity from Delilah, but I’m doing the same now as I split my personality, dragging her across the floor with a white-knuckle grip on the leash, biting out, “Do not fucking disobey me.”
My nape prickles as the chairs scrape against the kitchen tile and the sick cunts slowly follow us into the fuck room.
The air is colder and there’s a new taxidermy addition seated opposite the bench.
My grandfather perfumes the air with whatever chemicals have been used to glue his skin to the frame propping him up.
With the bright lights streaming through the domed atrium end of the lounge, his skin looks strange.
When we first saw him, he was more lifelike, but now the grey pallor of his skin is obvious.
Delilah slows as she crawls around him, her hand forming a fist to prevent touching him. There’s a really fucked up part of me finding humor in our situation, so I pause beside him, extending my voice to make sure everyone hears me order, “Kiss his knuckles.”
Helene steps ahead of the others to have a clear view as she smiles, eagerly watching Delilah.
The tremor in Delilah’s limbs isn’t fake as she sits up on her knees, her muscles pulled taut to lessen it as she slowly leans forward.
Her lips are set in a thin straight line, the tendons in her neck are rigid, fighting to pull her back.
This ethereal woman with more strength than anyone I’ve ever encountered pushes through the normal, natural urge to run.
When her lips brush his lifeless skin, I tug on the leash, pulling her back before they can fully press against his knuckles.
My beautiful wife shines in her anger, glaring up at me.
Her eyes are like the most elusive sapphires the earth could produce as I use the leash to throw her onto the bench.
I’m unable to appreciate her beauty when Helene steps up to the raised area.
The cunt holds her hand out and my jaw pulses, teeth grinding as she says, “There’s a hook for the end of the leash. ”
Fuck you.
“Sit down and shut up or leave,” I say. “No one will take away the pleasure of disciplining my wife while I join the two families together.”
Her pride returns in increments as she walks away, tapping her fucking stick against the floor in time with her slow steps until she takes a seat beside her preserved husband.
I kick against the bench leg, making sure Delilah will be covered by my body.
I promised myself I would never give a man my back, but I have to make a choice: break the promise to myself or allow Delilah to be exposed to her abuser.
It’s an easy decision, so I ignore the sweat trickling down my spine and how my heart beating drowns out every other sound in the room.
I wrap the leash handle around a backwards L-shaped ornate hook embedded into the rock beside the window as her parents get closer. The sound of Harkin’s shoes tapping against the floor echo over my erratic heartbeat.
“Don’t fucking move,” I snap.
“She is no longer your daughter.” Helene raises her stick, pointing the lion’s head at him as she lends her authority.
“Do not interfere or mistake my earlier generosity as a blanket invitation.” They sit beside her, both of Delilah’s parents waiting to watch their daughter be fucking raped like it’s a movie premiere.
I can’t fucking move.
It’s not worth it. Nothing is worth this. Fuck it, we’ll find another way. Delilah doesn’t need me to do this to get what she wants.
Helene narrows her eyes at me, scrutinizing my features.
As my teeth unclench to tell her to go fuck herself, Delilah screams, “Let me fucking go!” She thrashes, jostling the bench as she turns on to her stomach.
The metal hook creaks as she grabs the leash with both hands, tugging with all of her strength while screaming murder.
“You’re a sick fucking cunt! I’ll never let you touch me!
I’ll kill you, just like I killed Asher! ”
The sound of his name on her lips pisses me off. I hold the hook as I stare down at her. “Stop. Fucking. Barking.”
Widening her eyes, she slowly says, “Fuck. You.” She smiles. “You will never be him. Even if you look like him, act like him, it doesn’t mean anything. I will never allow you to take his touch away.”
Without any thought other than getting her to shut the fuck up, I round the bench with my hand outstretched, reaching for her face, but she pulls her head back to get in one last verbal blow. “You will always be in Asher’s shadow. No one wants boring, weak, pathetic Kane.”
My fingers latch onto her face, digging into her cheeks so she’s forced to pout.
I drag her head up as I undo my zipper. Her lips form a distorted O and I spit down, directly on her filthy fucking tongue as I pull my dick free, pushing into her mouth without allowing her to catch her breath.
I hold her chin in one hand, the back of her head in another, pulling her down until she’s choking and punching my thighs.
Gripping her hair in my fist, I drag her back an inch to look down at her as I roughly say, “You are fucking weak. The only use your mouth has is to get my dick ready.”
She punches my thigh with full force. I like the pain. It makes my dick harder, so I tighten my hold on her hair until the strands wrapped around my fingers are biting into my skin.
Something clatters beside my foot—a knife, shining in the sunlight. I slam my foot against the handle, kicking it up and catching it as Delilah stills.
Mine.
She’s mine. It’s always going to be me and her.
Delilah and Kane.
Not him.
Me.
Kane.
Not Asher.
I bring the point of the blade to her neck, directly under her jaw. “Say my fucking name.”
“Kane,” she mumbles around my dick.
Pressing it deeper against her skin—the sweet spot where she can feel the blade without injury—I ask, “Who do you belong to?”
“Ka—”
I push my dick deeper into her throat.
“Say it.”
Her lips move, only the vibrations working through my dick as she fucking chants it.
My name on my wife’s lips.
Her eyes roll back in her head as she gags, choking for air I only have control over. I use the tip of the knife to move her hair out of the way as I ask, “Do you want to breathe?”
She nods, erratic and urgent.
“Keep sucking. Your god might let you.”
The blade nicks the top of her ear. Little drops of red cling to her golden strands, but the way she gasps has me on edge.
She collapses against the bench, red-faced, fighting for air when I pull her off my dick.
I step around her then force her onto her knees so her ankles are locked within the curved horns at the foot of the bench.
I only have to brush the bottom of her torn dress away to reveal her soaked cunt.
My soaked devious cunt lies to me like the lips on her face, but it’s mine and only mine until the day she fucking dies.
Then when she’s nothing more than bones, I’ll take her fucking spirit, drown myself in that too, claim it and attach it to my own so we can never be separated for the rest of time.
The pointed end of the horn digs into the back of her calf, forcing her legs further apart until her dress rides up around her hips. Her ass is beautiful, beating the view of the horizon through the windows as I slam my hand down, leaving a red print behind.
I place my knee on the raised padding of the bench and enter her in one thrust, making her scream, “STOP! PLEASE!”
Lie.
She wants me to fuck her harder.
It’s why she punches me, adding more pain.
I give her what she really wants as I wrap my hand around the blade of the knife.
There’s less than an inch of the tip exposed as I make shallow lines on the curve of her ass.
My pain slut of a wife clenches around me, her fists flying back faster, making the line fuck up.
Grabbing her wrists, I hold them in the center of her back as I fuck her hard. Silently.
Each thrust is commemorated with a raw line on her ass cheek.
When I’ve covered one cheek, I fall over her to fit the knife against her throat as I run my tongue over the curve of her ear, tasting her.
Everyone is still watching us, but I’ve blocked them from seeing her as I close my lips over the cut on her ear.
Fuck me.
She tastes like perfection and she fucking moans. It’s low, barely audible as I groan, “Say another man’s name again, and I’ll slit your throat.”