Chapter 11 #2
My shoulders immediately slump because I know he means me. Leo looks at me with pity in his eyes and I know that I’m fucked. Rhys’s personal secretary just walks by me with his eyebrows raised.
The door closes behind them with a quiet snick and I feel like I’m going to be sick.
“Turn around and look at me,” he says quietly.
“No thank you,” I whisper.
“It wasn’t a bloody request.”
I turn around and keep my eyes locked on the expensive carpet while tears burn behind my eyes.
“Look at me, hen.” Without lifting my head, I raise my eyes to meet his glacial gaze. “Do you know what you did wrong?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“What was it then?” he asks.
“I spoke rudely to you,” I whisper and pray that I don’t cry in front of him.
“You may always speak your mind to me,” he says, and I apparently do not school my face in time because he says. “You can, but you may not speak to me like that in front of others because I am king and there is a perception to uphold.”
“I’m sorry.” I’m not sorry I fought back but I am sorry that I aired our dirty laundry in front of others. That was tacky.
“Good girl,” he says, and I feel myself relax. “Now come get your punishment.”
“What?” I gasp.
“I thought I was clear last night; actions have consequences and you’re about to receive yours.”
“No.”
“It wasn’t a request,” he says coolly. “Now come here, hen.”
Slowly, I make my way over to where he sits behind his desk in his leather chair.
He pushes back so that there is room between him and the historic desk, but he’s still seated with his legs wide and the bulge in his slacks evident.
Last time he was angry with me he denied me an orgasm and made the maid watch.
Now that I know what’s coming, how bad could this be?
“That’s my girl,” he says. “Now lift your skirt and show me that delicious cunt.”
“What?”
“I didn’t ask.” With my heart beating wildly, I slide the fitted skirt up and over my hips, displaying my pantyhose and panties. “Step out of your shoes and come closer…”
I kick off my heels and edge closer until his hands grab my hips and yank me to him. He slides his fingers into the front of my pantyhose and rips them front to back so that only the delicate waistband is still around my belly, the expensive silk unravelling down my legs.
“What are you doing?” I gasp. “Those had to have cost a fortune.”
“Aye,” Rhys says. “And I do no’ fucking care.”
And then he pulls me forward so that his nose is pressed against my mound, and he inhales deeply.
He groans before he pulls back just enough to push my lace panties down my legs, tangling them around my ankles, but he doesn’t help me out of them or release me.
Instead, he tips me over his muscular thighs, with my head hanging forward and my bare ass in the air.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I ask.
“Teaching you a valuable lesson, hen. I can’t keep you safe if you don’t let me, and part of that is our looking like a united front. To the world, you are a dutiful wife who serves her king,” he says just before he lands the first slap to my bare cheek. It stings. “Now count.”
“What?”
“I said count,” he snarls as he spanks me again.
“Wha-one.”
He slaps my other cheek.
“Two.”
He slaps my upper thigh.
“Three.”
My other thigh.
“Four.”
Again and again, he rains his heavy palm down over my ass and thighs until the burn is replaced with something… heavier.
And just when I expect another, he thrusts two blunt fingers inside me, curling them to hit the hidden spot that I’ve come to crave. And I scream as I come.
I feel absolutely drained as tears drip down my cheeks, unsure of what just happened, but before I can get my bearings, Rhys lifts me off of his lap and drapes me over his desk so that I’m facing away from him.
“Such a lovely ass, hen, reddened from my palm,” he says as he strokes my stinging skin with his hands. “And such a lovely cunt, swollen and dripping with your cum for me.”
I hate that he makes me feel humiliated and angry and aroused all at the same time. I want to hurt him the way that he’s hurt me.
“If I’m the dutiful wife who serves her king,” I ask as I hear the clank of the buckle on his leather belt. “Then what are you?”
“The king who fucks his queen until she screams,” he growls just before he savagely thrusts into me. “And don’t you ever forget it.”
I claw my nails at his historic desk. “Rhys—” I gasp.
“I would do anything for you,” he snarls as he drives deep inside of me. “I would give you anything.”
“I don’t want anything,” I pant as he thrusts harder and harder again and again.
“Then what do you want?”
“I want you!” I scream. “I just want you!”
“You have me, hen,” he bites out as picture frames and gold pens fall over and rattle about as the desk scratches across the floor.
“Yes,” I pant.
“I need you to come, hen.”
“I am,” I cry out as he plunges his cock faster and faster.
“Then scream the name of your king as you choke his fat cock with your tight cunt,” he snarls.
And I do just that.
“Rhys!”
“Again. Louder,” he demands.
“Rhys!”
“Whose cunt is this?”
“Yours!” I sob as the climax rolls on and on.
“Who fucks this cunt and fills it up with their cum?”
“You do!” I scream.
“And who is your king?” he demands as he drives his fingers into my hair and pulls just enough to force my head back.
“You are!”
“Aye, I am,” he snarls. “Now take my cum like a queen,” he says as he plants himself deep and fills me up.
We lay sprawled over his desk for who knows how long while my heartbeats echo in my ears and my throat feels raw from screaming. Eventually, he stands and pulls out of me, and I feel my face burn as his cum trickles down my sensitive flesh.
“I need to clean up,” I whisper.
“No,” he says.
“What?”
“We are late for our meetings because of your brattiness this morning,” he says calmly as he tucks himself back into his pants and then slides my panties backup my legs and straightens my skirt.
“But they all left…”
He just raises a dark eyebrow and asks, “Did they, hen?”
“No,” I whisper as he sits back down and pulls me into his lap. The tweed of his pants and the lace of my undies scrape the raw skin of my behind.
“Aye,” he says. “And you are going to sit here and participate in this meeting like you should have from the beginning.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“And now you actually are,” he says before calling out. “You can come back in now.”
“I think I hate you,” I whisper as Leo and Craig walk back into the room with smirks on their faces, followed by a murderous Saoirse.
“If that’s how you fuck me like you hate me, then I’ll take it,” he says. “Now hold your head up high; you’re a fucking princess and you need to act like you know it. Soon you’ll be a fucking queen, and she’ll bow to no one but me.”
“I’m not sure that I know anything,” I whisper back.
“That’s fine because I know enough for both of us.”
And that will have to do for now, so I roll my shoulders back and ask the room, “So what all goes into a royal wedding anyway?”