The Sacrifice: Chapter 12

I take the sprayer and wash off what’s left of her innocence. She bows her head, watching it go down the drain.

The poor thing had never orgasmed before. She didn’t know what the fuck hit her. I can say I was surprised. I was sure she had fooled around with herself before and gotten off. A woman doesn’t have to fuck a dick or dildo to come. Has she never touched herself before?

What twenty-one-year-old woman has never used a vibrator on her clit? Or rubbed one out with her fingers?

Her entire body is still feeling it. She stands before me shaking and still trying to catch her breath. Of course, that could be from me choking her as well.

“You’ve never gotten yourself off?” I break the silence.

She wraps her arms around herself and shakes her head, staring at the floor.

“Turn around,” I order.

Happy to do so, she almost trips over her own feet. Before she can fall into the wall, I wrap an arm around her thin waist to hold her up. She whimpers in my grip.

I lean down, my lips next to her ear. “Spread your legs and place your hands on the wall in front of you.”

She sucks in a shaky breath but does as she’s told.

I smile. My wife is already being a greedy slut. Fuck, I couldn’t have planned this better. Gripping her chin, I lift her neck so she has to arch her back while my other hand comes around her body, lowering the sprayer to her pussy.

She cries out, trying to get away from me, her hands gripping my forearm, but I tighten my hold, keeping her in place. “Hands on the wall, Lake,” I command.

After a long second, she reaches out and flattens her hands on the white tile.

“Good girl,” I tell her, and she sucks in a deep breath. “There are so many ways I can get you off, little darling,” I inform her.

I know she’s hurting, but I’m not going to show her any mercy. I’ll work through her soreness. She fights my hold, but I don’t let up. I keep the showerhead on her pussy. I can’t see what I’m actually doing from this angle, but the way her breath hitches, I’d say I’m close enough.

She begins to moan, and I lower my lips to her neck and suck the blood and water off her skin while her hips start to rock back and forth. “That’s it, Lake,” I whisper, pulling away just enough to speak before biting down on it.

Letting go of her chin, I lower my hand between her legs and spread her pussy wide open. The new position allows me to feel where the water is hitting. I do a little adjustment, and she begins to pant once again. Her back pushes against my front, trying to step back, but my body is enough to keep her in place. “Come again for me. Show me how much you like getting off.”

Her voice rings out in the shower as she does exactly that. I let go of her and she turns around just in time to fall down onto the bench.

“That’s two,” I say.

She lifts her eyes to meet mine, and they’re shooting daggers at me. What makeup is left runs down her face. Pulling her lips back, she lets out an audible growl.

I bite back a smile. This’ll be easier than I ever thought.

She’s sitting on the end of the bed with a white towel wrapped around herself. Her fingers have a death grip on it. As if the material will keep me from having my way with her. It won’t.

“Get dressed,” I order, going over to the closet and grabbing her bag.

Luke already had a bag packed and delivered earlier this morning. I could have just taken her home, but I wanted her father to have a physical reminder that I fucked her after our wedding. The white comforter, sheets, and pillowcases are covered in her blood along with the headboard. I made sure to smear that shit everywhere.

It looks like a crime scene. They’ll either have to burn the bed or replace it.

“Where are we going?” she asks softly, opening the bag.

“Home,” I say, and she flinches.

“But the hotel room—”

“Was to prove a point,” I interrupt her. “I proved it. We’re done here.” I never planned on staying here all night. I’ve got a business to run.

She grabs a pair of underwear, shorts, and a T-shirt. Standing, she walks back to the bathroom but comes to an abrupt stop. Her eyes meet mine and widen.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Nothing.” She drops her head and hurries to the bathroom, but I jump in front of her. She whimpers, taking a step back.

“What. Is. It?” I demand, gripping her chin and forcing her to look up at me.

She licks her lips nervously. “I, uh …” Her hand goes between her legs, and I let go of her chin to grab her wrist.

“You’re not allowed to get yourself off.” If she wants to know pleasure, she will have to beg me for it. “Drop the towel.”

Placing her arms out wide, it falls to her feet. I reach down and run my fingers over her pussy, feeling the wetness not only there but also coating her inner thighs. Lifting them up in front of her, she pulls her face back. “This is my cum, Lake. It will leak from your cunt when I come inside you.”

Her cheeks flush. I love how innocent she is. I’m going to teach her so many things. It’ll be fun turning her into my whore. Sex will always be on her mind. Her first time might not have been that enjoyable, but it’ll get better. Sex is like a drug. A high. She’ll beg for it.

“Of course, there will be times that I force you to swallow it,” I inform her.

Her lips part, her large, round eyes meeting mine.

“I’ll also choose to come all over your face, tits, and inside of your ass.”

“Tyson.” My name shakes on her lips.

“I’m going to use your body as it was intended, Lake,” I say truthfully.

Her lips thin. “Like you used my sister?” she demands.

I should be mad that she brought up Whitney so soon, but I’m not. I expected this from her. She blames me like the rest of her family. And I can’t even be mad about that. I blame myself too.

Gripping her hair, I spin her around and shove her body over the side of the bed, spreading her legs with mine while pinning the side of her face, chest, and stomach to the blood-covered duvet.

I lean over her back and whisper into her ear, “If I remember correctly, you liked the way I used her.”

“Fuck you!” she spits out, and I chuckle, a memory surfacing.

“Ty-son.” Whitney breathes my name while lying on her back. Her head hangs off the edge of her bed.

“Open up, Whit.” I groan, feeling like I’m about to explode already. It’s been six weeks since our vow ceremony at the Cathedral, and I can’t get enough of her. I wouldn’t say it’s her, but just the act of coming and not having to do it myself.

She parts her painted lips and sticks her tongue out. I slide my cock into it, my hand going to her throat to feel my dick push to the back of it. Fuck, it’s amazing. Her mouth is hot and warm.

She tries to lift her hips but her legs are tied to the bed spread eagle, so she doesn’t get far off the mattress.

I pull out and spit flies from her mouth, covering her face, and I slap the side of it, making her moan, before shoving back into her mouth. “Fucckkkk.” I throw my head back while she swallows me whole. “I’m going to come if you don’t stop doing that,” I warn her. The woman knows how to suck dick. Guys talk and I’ve heard rumors at Barrington how good she is in bed. Chosens don’t have to abstain from sex at any time, so I didn’t expect her to be innocent. I knew she’d be a good fuck, and she did not disappoint.

I open my eyes, and they land on a set of blue ones that stare at me in the mirror hanging on the wall in front of me. Laikyn, Whitney’s younger sister, stands at her sister’s cracked bedroom door watching us.

She doesn’t pull away and run. No, instead her eyes fall to her sister’s face that I’m fucking.

I pull out and Whitney gasps, body jerking in the restraints. I slap her face again, and she whimpers while her sister watches like she’s in a daze. It makes my cock jerk. Not because I want both of them but because I like having the audience. As a Lord, we are taught to put on a show.

“Open your fucking mouth,” I order, shoving my cock back into it. I don’t give her the chance to breathe this time. Instead, I reach down underneath her neck and hold the back of her head, tilting it more at an angle while I lean over the edge of the bed and fuck her mouth until I’m pulling out and coming all over her face.

“Did that make you wet, little darling?” I ask my wife. “When you watched me fuck your sister’s mouth?”

She fights me harder at the mention of Whitney. If she’s going to bring her up, then so will I. No matter how inappropriate it once was. She’s why we’re where we are right now anyway.

“You’re disgusting,” she yells at me over her shoulder.

Leaning over her back, I lift my hips enough to reach between our bodies and grab my hard dick. I spread her sore pussy with it, making her cry out. “You’ll learn to beg, cry, and come for me just like she did.”

Her fingers grip the bed and I grab them, yanking them behind her back and holding her forearms parallel with one hand while the other grips her hair, pinning the side of her face to the bed.

“I told you, little darling. I’d only go easy on you the first time,” I grind out, shoving my cock into her while my feet hold hers open. “From here on out, you will be reminded who the fuck you belong to.”

LAIKYN

I sit at the kitchen table with my parents as Tyson and Whitney enter the room. He pulls the seat out for her, and she thanks him.

My cheeks blush when his eyes briefly meet mine. I watched him fuck my sister’s mouth. My bedroom is across the hall from hers, and I could hear her. They’ve been going at it for six weeks now. All I hear is her screaming his name and him telling her how good she feels.

Our parents have raised us to understand what sex is and what is expected of us. My sister and I are both meant to be chosens. She got to be Tyson’s—without my parents’ permission—and I hope when my time comes, the Lord I want, also wants me in return.

I watch my sister fix the collar of her shirt to hide a hickey that he’s obviously given her. I also don’t miss the fact that she’s washed her face after he came all over it. When he started, she had makeup on. Now she looks like she just woke up.

My sister slides her arm through the crook of his and pulls him closer to her. My mother frowns at the PDA but doesn’t say anything. My sister tends to get dramatic. Her and my mother have had several very intense conversations that have turned into yelling matches over Tyson. My sister wants to marry him. My parents have shut that down. She is his chosen, but she will be another Lord’s Lady.

They are two very different things.

I lean against the table, my eyes looking over Tyson. His chiseled jaw, baby-blue eyes, and broad shoulders. His muscular arms and chiseled abs. He’s fucking gorgeous. And the fact that I’ve seen him in action just makes him that much more attractive.

My clit is swollen, pussy wet just from watching them in her bedroom. Some would say eighteen is too young to be interested in a twenty-one-year-old, but at least I’m legally of age. Plus, my father is six years older than my mother. Her father gave her away when she was seventeen.

There are no age limits when it involves the Lords. I’ve heard of girls marrying as young as fifteen. We have our own laws. Our own traditions. That any outsider would disagree and look down on.

Tyson holds me pinned over the side of the bed and wetness runs down my legs while he fucks me once again. I can’t fight him, and the worst part is, I don’t want to. It hurts so bad, but I’m also already craving that sensation that takes my breath away. I’m still shaking from the other two he gave me.

“Ple-ease?” I beg through a sob. My shoulders are screaming while he holds my arms to my back, pressing me into the bed. I’m having trouble breathing from the pressure.

“Please what?” he commands, thrusting into me.

“I need—”

He pulls out and slams forward, making me scream, and his body tenses against mine before his cock pulses inside me. He comes, not letting me.

Pulling out, he lets go of my arms, and they fall to my side as a whimper escapes my lips. My legs can’t hold me up and I fall to the floor, twisting so my back leans against the side of the bed, pulling my shaking legs to my chest. I look up at him through watery lashes as he stares down at me.

Kneeling, he pushes my wet hair from my tear-streaked face. “You will have to earn to come from now on, Lake.” Then he stands, giving me his back and exiting the bedroom.

Valet had his blacked-out Bentley Continental GT V8 Coupe waiting for us when we exited the hotel not even thirty minutes after he left me shaking on the bedroom floor. We ride through the city in silence once again. We haven’t spoken to each other since he told me I’d beg him to get off.

Being this close to him in such a confined space has my breathing ragged. I’m trying to calm my racing heart, hoping he doesn’t hear how worked up I am while “Just Pretend” by Bad Omens softly filters from the speakers. I wish he’d turn it up to drown out any chance of hearing me.

I can feel his cum leaking out of my sore pussy and soaking my underwear. He’s proving a point. Dominance. Not like I needed a reminder. I’m very well aware of how powerful Tyson Riley Crawford is. He might not have taken over his father’s multibillion-dollar company like he was supposed to, choosing a nightclub instead, but he is still a Lord. And they’re all the same—ruthless.

The rain continues to fall, but it’s not as hard as before. He takes an exit, and I run my hands over the shorts my mother had packed in my bag. Tyson didn’t even bring it. I picked out what I wanted to wear at the hotel, and he made me leave the rest behind. I’m guessing he’ll make me sleep naked at his house. Hell, will he even let me wear clothes during the day while at his home? Doubtful. Visions of chains, cuffs, and leashes come to mind. I’ll be his personal pet. A slave to serve him. I’ll be lucky to sleep on a bed. He’s probably had a cage made just for me. The thought makes my chest tighten. Lords are all about humiliation. It makes them feel powerful to belittle others.

I once overheard my mother’s friend telling her that her husband threw a party for his three best friends and made her wear a gag in her mouth while she served them food. That was all she was allowed to wear. After they were done with dinner, she was ordered to lie on the table where they tied her down and each took their turn with her for dessert. I was disgusted at how turned on I got at the thought. All she could do was tell my mother how amazing it was to serve them. And how her husband’s one friend had the biggest dick she had ever seen. It was the best night of her life.

Slowing the car down, Tyson pulls into a parking lot, and I read the white sign outside of a redbrick building—Walls Dentistry. “What are we doing here?” I ask.

He comes to a stop in a front row parking spot and shuts off the car. Without answering, he gets out, and I let out a huff, doing the same. Taking my hand, he drags me into the front glass double doors. It looks closed. There isn’t a single person sitting at the front desk, and it’s a weekend. The row of chairs up against the far wall are also empty. A black coffee table is in the middle with a stack of magazines.

Tyson pushes open a door, pulling me down a hallway, passing room after room where the hygienists clean their clients’ teeth.

We pass another reception desk, and he then comes to the last room on the right. A man sits in a chair, his back to us. A dentist chair sits in the middle of the room. “Sit,” Tyson orders, pushing me toward it.

“Ty—”

“Good afternoon.” The man turns around to face us. He gives me a warm smile and looks to Tyson. “Congratulations on the wedding. It was beautiful.”

I shift uncomfortably in the chair. He’s a Lord. Of course, he is. “Tyson?” My wide eyes find his as he sits down in a chair in the corner. “What are we doing here?” I ask, licking my lips nervously.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls his cell out of the pocket of his jeans and drops his eyes to it while he types away. The guy I’m assuming is the dentist chuckles softly. “We’ll have you guys out of here in no time.” He places the blue paper bib on my chest, fastening it around my neck, and I try to even out my breathing. I’ve never been a fan of the dentist. And to be here, not knowing why, makes my heart race more so than it already was.

Turning his back to me, he resumes whatever he was doing when we arrived, and Tyson continues to type away on his phone as if he’s writing a fucking novel to someone.

I close my eyes. Deep breaths, Lake.

“Open wide,” the guy says, and my eyes spring open just in time to see him leaning over my chair from behind. He’s shoving something into my mouth, and I don’t even have the chance to fight him.

It’s big and bulky, filling my mouth, and he presses it to the top, his fingers making sure to pull my upper lip around it. I start gagging as something touches the back of my throat.

“Breathe,” he tells me. “Through your nose.”

I pull my knees up, my back arching off the chair, but no matter how much I try to move, he keeps his left hand in my mouth, his fingers holding the device to the roof of my mouth. Tears sting my eyes, and just when I think I’m about to puke, he pushes down on it. I feel suction before it pops loose, and I watch him remove it. It’s a paste of some kind. I realize that I’ve done it before. He’s having molds made for whitening trays. Luke had me bleach my teeth. He wanted a Barbie for a wife. Small framed, glowing white teeth, and big tits. He always told me things that needed to be changed about my body. How he wanted to be attracted to me. He’s spent the last few years of my life altering what needed to be changed.

Why the fuck would Tyson care what color my teeth are?

I sit up, coughing. My tongue feeling the small pieces left around my mouth. I dig my fingers around and spit them out, not caring what I look like. Tyson has already seen me come and cry. I’m sure his plan is to make me feel humiliated in my everyday life.

I’m grabbed and pulled back down before I can fight the dentist again. He pushes my lips apart and does the same thing to the bottom. It’s not nearly as bad as the top was.

I stare at the clock on the wall, watching the secondhand make its way around sixty seconds before he removes it. “When was the last time you went to the dentist?” the man asks, placing the small mirror inside my mouth and looking around.

Hell if I know. “Six months ago,” I say, trying to think when the last time I had a cleaning.

He removes the mirror and mumbles a, “Hmm,” to himself.

Looking up at the ceiling, I run my tongue over my teeth, spitting out the chunks of the leftover mold.

Then his fingers are back in my mouth, pulling my lips apart. “Let that sit there,” he says, removing his hand, and something remains in my mouth.

“Wh—”

“Don’t talk,” he scolds me. “That numbing cream needs to set up. You’ve got a cavity that I’m going to fix. Afterward, I’ll clean them, and you kids will be on your way,” the dentist now sings, tapping my shoulder.

My eyes go to the corner to see if Tyson is still on his phone, but he’s no longer there.