Vicious King: A Dark Captive Romance (Dark Dynasty Book 2)

by Stella Hart

  Without a sound, I did as my Master commanded, curving my back and pushing my ass farther up and out. My wrists had been tied together with soft silk earlier, but he’d changed his mind halfway through, and now they were spread wide but still immobilized in a wooden restraining device which resembled a medieval stock.

  My feet were restrained on the floor with chains and my back was stinging from the lashings of a whip he used on me earlier. I was marked and shackled, with no possible hope for escape. Same as every other day.

  It hadn’t taken long for me to make peace with my new reality. I was truly my Master’s toy now, simply a set of warm holes in which he could unload himself. I didn’t mind. I deserved it. This was my place in the world now. My penance for all the awful things I’d done.

  Behind me, Elias was fucking my pussy. His pussy. I belonged to him, and he could do whatever he wanted with me. All I wanted was to please him.

  I wasn’t sure if it felt good. My mind was elsewhere, trying to focus on the bad things I’d done in my life so that I wouldn’t start to feel any orgasmic pleasure. I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t deserve to feel that incredible heady buzz that Elias gave me that night on the altar when his perfect cock slid inside me, filling me with warmth and wonder. The only pleasure I allowed myself to feel nowadays was when he punished me with the whips or paddles in the Finishing School playroom.

  “I want you to come on my cock,” he suddenly said in a husky murmur. “Now, Doll.”

  I shifted my mind away from my crimes and tried to focus on the fullness of my pussy as his thick cock slammed in and out of me. My clit was swollen and throbbing, but I couldn’t reach down and rub it. Not when I was restrained like this.

  Elias slapped my ass, hard. “I said now!” he growled. “Come.”

  “I… I can’t. Sorry, Master,” I whispered raggedly.

  “Why the fuck not?” He said this as he thrust all the way inside me, filling me to the brim.

  “I don’t deserve pleasure. All I deserve is punishment.”

  He slowed his movements and slapped my ass again, making me quiver. “Why?”

  “Because I’m a bad girl. I’m a liar.”

  He grunted. “Tell me more.”

  “I lied when I arrived here. I said I didn’t sell myself here, but that wasn’t true. I signed the contract. I wanted to be here,” I said, closing my eyes.

  I knew it was true now. Just because I had no memory of it didn’t mean it never happened. It had to have happened, because my Master wasn’t a liar. I was.

  I must’ve felt so guilty and ashamed over the awful things I did that I decided to force myself into this subservient existence so that I could receive the punishment I so direly needed.

  If I concentrated hard enough, I could actually see myself signing away my life on a cream-colored piece of paper, and soon, the image blurred with my solid memories until it started to gain a life of its own.

  Yes, I remembered now. I signed that contract in early 2017. Of course I did.

  “Why did you want to be here?” Elias asked.

  “Because I’m a murderer. I realized I needed punishment. I needed to let you get your revenge on me.”

  “But you weren’t aware you’d be given to me when you signed your rights over to Crown and Dagger,” Elias said crisply.

  I shook my head. “I… I must’ve guessed, Master. I wanted to be given to you. I wanted you to punish me for what I did.”

  “And what was that?” he said in a low voice.

  “I killed Ben Wellington. Your cousin and friend. I pushed him right off a cliff on the 17th of March, 2017.”

  I didn’t fully remember that either, but I knew I would eventually. The real memories would make their way back one way or another, piece by jagged black piece, and finally I would be able to lift a full picture out of the darkness of my mind and hold it up to the white light of truth.

  I knew now that the version of events I’d previously believed was nothing more than fiction. Something my mind created as a coping mechanism to deal with the crushing guilt I felt after I murdered Ben.

  I once read a book where a girl did something similar and her brain developed false memories to help her cope with what she’d done; allowed her to escape responsibility by blocking out the truth. But I wasn’t like that girl. Not anymore. I didn’t want to escape responsibility. I didn’t want to keep remembering that fake version of events where I was innocent and it was all a terrible accident.

  It was no accident.

  Ben rejected me because I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t from his world. I was just a lower-class loser who could never even dream of getting a guy so far out of my league. Sure, he wanted my body, that was good enough for him, but when I realized he would never want me in any real way, I snapped. I pushed him off me and ran away, my head pounding with white-hot rage, and when he came after me to try and calm me down, I pushed him right off the cliff.

  Then I ripped my own skirt and messed up my hair and makeup to make my story more convincing. As for the drugs… I must’ve taken them earlier at the party. I wanted to have a good time, and tons of people took pills and snorted things at parties.

  A dark, distant part of my mind whispered to me, reminding me of the secret witness on the beach, some man or woman who backed up my false version of events, telling the police that I didn’t push Ben. He slipped and fell, and I was nowhere near him at the time, this person claimed.

  I used to see this secret witness as a beacon in the night, something to give me hope whenever the crushing guilt set in. Something to remind me of my innocence. But now I saw the witness for what they really were.

  A liar.

  A dirty, bad, malicious liar. Just like me.

  I was not innocent. No way. Whoever the witness was, they probably hated Ben and wanted him dead. They probably saw me push him but they didn’t want me to wind up behind bars for doing what they wanted to do themselves. So they lied to the police and defended me, getting me off all the charges.

  Yes, that had to be it. No wonder they wanted their name suppressed by the courts.

  Elias leaned down, brushing his lips against the shell of my right ear. “I want you to put that out of your mind right now. I want to feel you come on my cock. Do it now, Doll.”

  “Please… I can’t,” I said, tears springing to my eyes. “I’m bad, Master. I don’t deserve it.”

  “Do it now, or I won’t see you for two whole weeks. I won’t be able to punish you with the whip or the clamps then, like you want so badly. Is that what you want to happen?”

  “No!” I frantically shook my head.

  Elias sped up again, pounding into me harder and harder. My legs shook from the sheer power of his movements. “Come right now, or that’s exactly what will happen,” he said, his voice deep and throaty. He sounded so serious, so angry.

  I couldn’t disappoint him again…

  “I’m sorry, Master,” I said, concentrating harder. I might not deserve to come, but if he commanded it, I had to make it happen.

  I let go of my guilt and allowed myself to really feel his cock inside me, allowed myself those few seconds of wanton need. Finally, warm pleasure began to unfurl deep in my core, and it exploded out of me several seconds later, a gasp tearing from my lips as I jolted and clenched. It was the hardest thing I ever did.

  “Good girl,” Elias muttered, slamming into me even faster. He came inside me with a juddering groan, and then he slapped my ass and set about unshackling my wrists and feet.

  “You can spend the next seven days in here,” he said, gesturing at the room around us as I shakily got to my feet. We were in the same place he’d taken me all those weeks ago when he bathed me and gave me my favorite food—the gorgeous open-plan suite with the huge four-poster bed and the claw-footed tub.

  “Thank you, Master,” I said, glowing warmth spreading through me. He was so kind. So generous. “I don’t deserve this.”

  “Well, there’s books and other thing
s to keep you entertained. I won’t be here for several days, and I don’t want you losing your mind from boredom down in the cell.”

  My eyes widened. “Master, why?” I cried. “You said if I came, you wouldn’t stop seeing me.”

  “I’m not stopping,” he said curtly. “Not for two weeks. Just a week. You might’ve followed my commands eventually, but you said no to me at first. You displeased me, Doll.”

  I didn’t bother falling to my knees and trying to argue. He was right. I defied him, and now I was being punished in the worst way, left alone without him to touch me or bring me the pain I wanted so badly now.

  “Yes, Master,” I whispered. “I understand.”

  He looked down at me, eyes darkening. Somehow, he was still angry with me, even though I’d given him everything he wanted and agreed with everything he said.

  He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but then he clamped it firmly shut and strode over to the door. I stayed where I was, my heart beating painfully in my chest as I watched him unlock the door and step outside.

  He looked back at me for a brief moment. “I’ll see you later, Doll,” he said.

  Then he was gone, and my world went cold and dark again.

  4

  Elias

  “This’ll only take a minute.” Dr. Paulson gave me a tight smile as he jabbed a needle into a vein on my left arm. “Strange weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

  I usually detested small talk, but he was right. Winter had come late this year—it was already the eleventh of January—but it had finally arrived in a freezing flurry.

  I looked out the window. The snow had begun falling overnight, sprinkling the towering cypress trees outside my family’s New Marwick house and draping the ground in blankets of white. The sky was filled with angry gray clouds, carried by gusting winds. Dreary, dark, depressing.

  “Almost done.” The doctor pulled the needle out of my arm and capped the sample as I held a cotton ball over the little puncture mark. Then he stuck the cotton in place with a strip of medical tape. “Let me just label this,” he went on, more to himself than me.

  “How long will this take?” I asked. “For results, I mean.”

  Dr. Paulson finished marking the sample tube and looked up at me. “Longer than you might assume. All those CSI-type shows have ruined everyone’s perceptions. They submit a sample and expect to get their entire genome mapped in five seconds, when really, it can take weeks of work, especially with the backlog at most labs. So you’ll be waiting a while.”

  “That’s fine. I’ve got time.” I pressed my lips into a thin line and looked out the window again.

  My father had recovered well from his injury and was generally in good spirits again, but he was still cagey whenever I tried to bring up the egg donor issue. It was clear he wanted nothing more than for me to drop the subject entirely, but that only made me more curious. I’d thought about it frequently over the last few weeks, trying to figure out what I could do to get more information, and finally, a friend of mine had given me an idea.

  Apparently there were quite a few ancestry websites where you could submit a DNA sample, and your sample would be tested for a number of things, like what sort of diseases you might be prone to, where your ancestors were from, and even information on how much Neanderthal DNA you might have in your genome. The best part was that the sites would connect you with other users who shared close genetic makeups to you. My friend had told me a story of how some girl he knew wound up finding several aunts, uncles and cousins on there when she previously had no idea they even existed.

  I didn’t want my DNA on one of those sites—who the hell knew what the company owners might do with the information one day?—but the general scope of the idea appealed to me. If I could get a sample of my DNA tested and compared to all those that were available online (under the table, of course), not only would I discover a lot about my ancestry on my biological mother’s side, I might even find out who she was, if she or any of her relatives used the genealogy sites.

  Dr. Paulson was happy to assist with my plan of getting tested without anyone else’s knowledge. He felt as if he owed me after the incident where my father was given the wrong blood. At the time, I held up my end of the deal and took full responsibility for what happened, telling everyone that I forced him to give my father that blood. As a result, he still had a medical license and a job at the Finishing School, even though things had gone so drastically wrong.

  I didn’t see it as a big deal that I held up my end of the bargain—I said I’d do it, and I didn’t often like to go back on my word—but the doctor was supremely grateful, and so he’d jumped on the chance to help me out.

  “It might take even longer than regular testing, actually,” he said.

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

  “Well, you want this done off the record, right? All very hush-hush, no connection to your family?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Why do you think I didn’t offer you or your science buddies any bribes to get it done fast?” I said. I was only half joking.

  He snorted. “Indeed. Anyway, I have quite a few friends who work in private labs, but their workload is enormous. Not only that, if they’re doing it under the table, they’ll have to work on it after-hours, which doesn’t leave them a hell of a lot of time to get it done.”

  “Right. Well, like I said, I’ve got time. I’ve gone all these weeks without knowing who this damn egg donor was, so I’m sure I can handle a few more.”

  Dr. Paulson’s sparse gray brows pinched together. “You sure it’s a good idea to do this behind your father’s back?”

  “I have to. Like I told you the other day, he won’t tell me anything.” I paused and shot him a warning look. “Don’t you dare tell him what we’re up to.”

  He smiled. “If it was anyone else, I’d refuse to go behind Tobias King’s back. But for you, Elias, I’ll do it.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  He zipped up his black bag and stood up straight. “I’ll head out now. I have a few things to do in the city while I’ve got the day off. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything from the labs, all right?”

  “Sure. Thanks again.”

  He turned away, then hesitated for a second and turned back to face me. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping in bringing this up, but I hope things have been sorted with Ms. Marris after the stabbing. I haven’t had the chance to see her, although I understand Nurse Fernandez updated her Depo shot a few days ago?”

  “Yes, that’s right. And don’t worry, an incident like the other week won’t happen again. All the other girls’ quarters have been swept for any sort of hidden weapons, and nothing was found. Just a one-off.”

  He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I don’t mean that. It’s just that the girl seems very mentally disturbed. She almost killed your father, Elias. It’s deeply concerning.”

  “She’ll be fine.”

  He hesitated for a few seconds too long. “Right. If you say so. Anyhow, see you later.”

  After he was gone, I strode into my bathroom, stripped off and got in the shower, setting the water to a frigid temperature in the hopes it would dampen my desires. The mere mention of Tatum had made my dick hard as steel, but I couldn’t be fucked jerking off. I’d already done that five times since I got back to New Marwick, all to the thought of her, and I was tired of it.

  I shouldn’t even have to jerk off. Over the last few weeks, I’d had the pleasure of Tatum’s company on the island almost every single day, so I’d been able to fuck her, not my hand. That was what she was there for. To serve me. But now, even though the winter break wasn’t over yet—grad school stuff didn’t start up at Roden for another couple of weeks—I’d returned early, growing frustrated with Tatum’s recent behavior and attitude.

  Something inside her seemed to have broken not long after she found out she was on an island. That was exactly what I wanted to happen, but the results hadn’t exactly be
en what I anticipated. I thought it would make her even angrier at what I’d done to her, thought it would make her fight and claw at me like mad, screaming and more desperate than ever to get away from me. That would be hot as fuck, and when I made her submit to me again and again, it would taste that much sweeter.

  But it wasn’t like that at all.

  Instead of fighting, Tatum was quiet and passive, her face almost always blank. Brittle, glazed, stupefied. Colorless. She barely said a word, barely even cowered when I went to see her. Never cried. Everything I said or commanded, she instantly agreed with and submitted to. She never defied me or questioned me, at least not purposefully.

  It wasn’t the screaming and begging I wanted. It wasn’t even the hysterical sobbing she came out with last time I thought she was falling to pieces. It was just… acceptance. Silent, dead-behind-the-eyes acceptance. The last time I saw her, she seemed more vacant and lifeless than ever. She had the appearance of something discarded, just a crumple of gray cloth tossed away in the garbage.

  I hated it. I used to think her complete and utter submission to my will was exactly what I wanted, especially after the things she’d done to my family, but I actually missed the wild spark she used to have. I missed the way she used to frantically argue with me and curse at me, the way she’d try to fight her way out. That spark had vanished along with the rest of the personality, just like the light in her eyes.

  She was basically a robot.

  The worst part was what it had done to the sex. She didn’t seem to enjoy it, which I initially didn’t think I’d care about, but I did. More than anything. I didn’t want some limp woman lying there taking my dick in silence, her mind elsewhere. I wanted her present and in the moment, wanted her to crave my body, crave my cock inside her, even if she hated me for making her want it.

  Tatum had gone the opposite way. She loved feeling me inside her, I knew that, but she’d seemingly morphed into some sort of guilt-ridden automaton, saying that all she deserved was pain and punishment, and that she ‘wasn’t allowed’ any pleasure after the things she’d done.