by Sophie Starr
“And you will learn that all of this is mine.” His words were growled. His fingers ventured between my cheeks, making me clench but his grip on me tightened. “You will let me touch you and you will not fight me, ever again.”
A scream ripped from me as he pressed everywhere—hard, until I unclenched and allowed his passage.
I stared at the puddle forming on the floor from the tears I didn’t know I had cried and the spit that had drooled from my lips as his fingers found their way between my cheeks again.
There was no stopping the trembling or sobbing, but I remained as still as I could and ever so silent as his finger pressed into my exposed lips. He trailed his finger back and forth, dragging them through my wet sex. “You dirty bitch, you like it. Your pussy is soaked from being beaten. I knew you were my sort of girl.” He slathered his finger in my wetness so his passage inside me would be easier. I tensed a little as he circled my hole before slipping his finger in. The girth of his fat finger wasn't half his cock and I was already in agony.
“Nice and tight, just as I suspected.” He pushed his finger all the way in until I winced as he hit something. “And a virgin. I knew your pussy would be all mine.” He pumped the finger, making feelings I didn't want to register. “You like that, don't you? You’ll like it when I fuck you.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and wished it were over already, hating the fact there was something about my body that agreed with him and his treatment of me.
That horrified me more than what he had done to me.
He pulled his finger from me and pushed me to the floor. I fell onto my back, crying out as my ass touched the hard floor. He dropped to his knees, spreading my thighs and lifting my skirts.
Realizing he was about to take all that was left of my virtue, I shook my head but he ignored me. He pulled his massive cock from his trousers and leaned forward, rubbing it between the sopping lips of my pussy. I tried to close my legs, earning a look from him. “Lie still.”
I stopped moving, seeing the trancelike look in his eyes and hearing the rage in his voice. I was still, even when his hands ripped open my dress, exposing my breasts. He groped them, swallowing them up with his mighty hands, as his cock rubbed between pussy lips.
He didn’t enter me. He didn't even hurt me. He thrust, rutting against me, until he was done. He jerked and sat back, stroking his cock and shooting the seed across my bared chest.
His fingers squeezed hard, milking the head of the cock to get more of the white fluid onto me.
I closed my eyes and turned my head to the side as he finished. My pussy ached and my chest was cold from the liquid coating my breasts.
He grabbed my arms, ripping me up from the floor and pressing me against the wall. He did his pants up and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping my breasts roughly. “You will be my wife, Belle. Your father gave his consent. When I get you to my house, I am going to ruin you for all other men, just as I promised I would.”
I shook my head, as the stimulated high I had falsely plunged into fell from me. My voice cracked, but I looked him straight in the eye, making certain he knew he had not killed my spirit with his disgusting cruelty. “My father is not here and no one witnessed his consent. I will deny him ever giving it to you.”
“Who would believe you?” His fingers bit in, gripping harder.
“Who would believe you want to marry me?” I laughed boldly, tying my dress back up. “They’ll all know you ruined my virtue and I WILL tell everyone who will listen it was done against my will.”
He flinched at my words.
He knew no one would believe he wanted to marry the poor mender’s daughter—but raping a gentleman’s daughter, no matter how crazy he was, was wrong.
His lips toyed with a grin for a moment before he dragged me through the house. “I don't give a good goddamned what anyone thinks.” He spoke with the same determination he had walked in with.
“Please, Gaston, don't do this! You have already dishonored me enough!” I slapped and fought and cried, but he didn't even flinch at the striking or pinching.
He lifted me over his shoulder at the door and started into the woods. I jolted with each step as his feet angrily marched through the dense forest.
He didn't speak. He didn't need to.
I could tell he was angry and this was going to end badly. I resigned myself to the fact I would be made to do things—I would be made to marry him. He would find a priest. He would make it happen.
My father would not be able to save me. Even if he found investors, he would not be back in time. The only solace I could take comfort in was that if he did find the benefactors he needed, at least then he could get away from all of this.
3
Gaston stalked to his house, stopping just short of the extensive manor home and placing me on the ground. I was lightheaded as the blood rushed from my head and my knees buckled.
His lifted me back to my feet as his eyes searched mine for a moment before speaking, “You will behave, or I will see that there is nothing that will protect your father from my wrath.” He smoothed my dress and fixed my hair.
I nodded weakly. I was defeated. The long walk convinced me of my chances at getting away.
He pulled me across the grounds to the horse stables, waving at the men in the barns. “Good day!” They returned the wave accompanied by a slight bow.
Gaston dragged me through the garden to the door at the back of the mansion. He ripped it open and hauled me through the dining room and parlor, speaking harshly to the servants in the halls, “Miss Belle has been abandoned by her father! She is very upset but will be staying with us! We are not to be disturbed!”
My feet hardly touched the floor as he climbed the stairs, but my eyes could not avoid the face of the girl at the back of the hall. She was younger than me. She blushed and lowered her gaze, wincing as if she knew my fate. As if she had already shared this fate with me. As a peasant, a daughter of no one, she would have been a fair target for a man like Gaston, akin to the barmaid I had watched him assault.
My lip trembled as he pulled me inside the large wooden door and slammed it.
He released me, making blood start to find its way back into my numb arm. My shoulder ached from all the dragging and violence. My butt still screamed from the beating he had given me.
I had never been manhandled in my life.
Nor had I witnessed such abuses.
I could feel the end of my sanity. It was lingering in the forefront of my brain. I could not stop my jaw from trembling nor my eyes from watering as he unlaced his shirt and sighed, running a huge hand through his greasy hair.
“Now, I want this to be very civilized. I don't like it when women cry. If you do you will be punished. Do you understand me?” His words were soft, perhaps the softest I had ever heard from him.
I nodded, complacent and terrified.
“Say it.”
The words fell from my shaking lips, “I understand.”
“Excellent.” He nodded, speaking as though he agreed with my wine selection. “I am going to fuck you now. Go and lie on the bed.” He was indifferent and nonthreatening as he pointed at the large bed but refused to meet my gaze. He untied his pants, again releasing his cock. It was flaccid and small, but still too large for me to imagine inside me. Not when his fingers had hurt. He stroked it and was starting to get hard again as his trousers slipped down his thick thighs. “I am going to fuck you and impregnate you. You will bear me sons, many sons.” He spoke as if he was lost in the daydream of us and our many sons.
My mouth dropped as my head twitched.
I glanced at the doorknob next to my left hand. Without even contemplating the outcome, I reached for it, turning and flinging the door open. I didn't scream or make a sound. I ran.
I ran hard.
With blurry vision and a dry mouth, I fled from the room, from the stairs, from the hall, and finally from the same doors I had come in. I ran hard for the woods, still not making a
sound but listening for him.
My house shoes dug in as my feet pushed and my mind screamed, begging me to go faster. My lungs felt as if they might explode but I didn't care. I would rather die here in the woods of exploded lungs before I would tolerate being touched by him for one more second, let alone being impregnated by him.
I didn't run toward my house. Instead, I ran for the road my father had taken to leave the town, and made the quick decision to abandon our things at the house.
The sun was setting and the forest grew dark and frightening, but I didn't give up until I saw the road.
I burst from the forest, stumbling and falling into the dirt. I heaved my breaths for a moment before I heard his voice screaming my name.
My feet ached and my throat hurt, but I shoved myself up and started running again, this time along the road so I could go faster. I knew he would have gone back for a horse and some men so I pushed myself.
My legs burned and begged for reprieve but I didn't relent. I ran until I reached a bridge. I hurried below it, instead of crossing. I knew my legs would give out soon enough and hiding was better than being run down.
I heaved and shook as I sat, rocked by the disbelief of the events that had transpired. My ass ached, still burning from the handprints. The same as my pussy lips, which throbbed from being rubbed nearly raw.
My chest reeked of the scent of his seed and my dress was in tatters.
But I didn't care.
Under that dirty bridge I was safe and alone.
Horse hooves rumbled behind me on the road, all being run at a hard pace. I glanced at the reflection on the still lake as Gaston and several other men galloped across the wooden bridge, making it thunder all around me.
When I thought it might be safe, I leaned to the left just in time to see them take the path along the water. It was the road my father had taken to bring us here. I remembered the bridge and the still lake, and the reflection of us in the carriage drawn by Philip.
When I could no longer see nor hear them, I jumped up and scrambled up the bank, digging my fingers into the dirt and rocks. I ran across the bridge and took the road to the right.
It was an eerie path into the Dark Forest. It was a road no one took anymore, and compared to the one Gaston had taken, it was terribly frightening. But I didn't care. I knew I could hide along it while I waited for Gaston to return to town. Then I could make my way to my father.
Showing up the way I would might embarrass him, but at least he would know our home in that village was gone, along with any chance of me marrying Gaston.
I slowed my pace, letting my legs rest a bit. I was far enough that I could easily hide, but close enough to the fork in the road that I would be able to hear them riding past.
I sat on a log and waited for the sound of the thundering of their horses. My brain got lost in the past eight days. Everything was a mess. My poor father and I would have to flee, shamed and badmouthed by the vile Gaston. But at least I would be free of marrying him.
And if I were gone from the town, my father wouldn't be threatened with being committed.
But the loss of his tools would be devastating to him. Not to mention, the loss of whatever other inventions he had in the cellar.
It was a terrible fate for an impoverished inventor, but I believed he would understand my views on the matter, given the evidence of the assaults Gaston had forced upon me.
My father had loved my mother dearly and had never hurt her a day in her life. He didn't agree with abusing anyone.
I was lost in thought when I heard horse hooves. I turned, realizing they were coming from the wrong side of the path. They were coming from the dark and eerie side. I leaned forward, stunned at seeing only a single horse, but he was running like the devil himself chased him.
My heart stopped when I realized it was Philip, minus his carriage. I jumped up, running for him. “Philip!” I waved my hands.
He ran past me but circled and paused, cocking his head. In his eyes was the wildest look I had ever seen. He snorted and bucked a little.
I walked closer, holding my hands out. When I was close enough I ran my hands gently down his side, stroking him and calming him. “Philip, where is Papa?”
He snorted and suddenly grew tense again. I whispered, “Shhhhhhh.”
He calmed but his heart was racing. I jumped onto his back and turned him back toward the path he had just come from. Clearly, my father was down the wrong path. It wouldn’t be the first time.
I dug my heels in, nudging Philip to go faster. When I glanced back at the other path I didn't see horses or Gaston. I hoped I would never see him again. Not that I would ever be free of him; the scars inside me would never leave me.
4
The path did not get lighter, but much smaller and darker as we rode on. I clung to Philip, not certain we were going the right way. Not until he froze, staring at a massive set of gates.
He backed up, shaking his head. I knew then we had the right spot. The horse was smarter than I was. He would not act this way unless truly terrified.
The gates didn't look like much. Maybe once they had been lavish and spectacular, but now they were dirty and covered in vines.
A growl from behind startled me.
I turned, seeing glowing yellow eyes in the dark bushes a ways down the path. I jumped down and ran for the gates, squeaking them open and dragging the protesting Philip inside. He neighed and bucked but I didn't relent. I closed the gates as several timber wolves jumped from the bushes and ran at the fence. They snarled and spat but couldn't make it inside.
I jumped back, shaking as I grabbed Philip and leaped onto his back, scrambling into the saddle and jerking him to life. He ran along what appeared to be cobblestone, but it too was like the gates—covered over with vines and broken by roots.
We rode along the old road until we cleared the forest and entered what used to be a village. It was in absolute ruin, filled with dilapidated buildings and a swamp-like forest that seemed to be reclaiming the ancient township of sorts.
The sight of it gave me the chills that worsened when we cleared the large row of buildings.
I shuddered as a cold wind hit.
Philip again froze in his tracks, refusing to continue on. I glanced at the broken-down houses and ruined shops, not certain I should get off the horse, but my fears of my father’s fate haunted me.
I slipped down off the horse and walked, pulling Philip along the road. As we rounded another corner of broken and sinking houses covered in vines, we both stopped.
He backed up a bit and I just stared.
Before us was the most magnificent castle I had ever seen.
It was stunning.
I was at a loss for words. It was surrounded by an old moat that was overtaken by the forest. The grounds of the vast castle looked a mess. They were in the same state as the village, but it was still the most beautiful castle I had ever seen.
“Is Papa in there?” I asked, not looking at Philip. He didn't move. He didn’t tug or try to leave, but I knew he was telling me this was precisely the place my father was.
I didn't know how my father had come to find himself here. I didn't know if he was in danger, but I felt he might be.
I turned and looked at the ruins and then Philip. “Stay close by.” I rubbed my hand down his cheek and looked into his eyes, hoping he understood what I meant. “Don't leave.”
I turned back to face the castle and started walking toward it. Philip neighed quietly as if trying not to be heard by anyone but me. I ignored his warnings and continued along the broken road.
The sky was gray and dark, but from the looks of the town it might always be gray and dark here. I walked past the gates to the castle and over the moat, wrinkling my nose at the debris and bones in the water below. Something terrible had happened here.
I walked through the final doors, leaving the village completely and entering the grounds of the castle. It was imposing and frightening.
I wr
apped my arms around myself, shivering from the cold that seemed to seep into my tired bones.
Shadows crossed the stony ground in corners, playing with my mind. I hurried to the front doors of the castle, staring up at them before knocking. They were huge arches, at least as tall as a regular house. I sighed, closing my eyes for a moment and lifted my hand, knocking softly. Dread filled me from the moment I had entered the first gates, but it was much worse there. Only the gods knew what awaited me inside—or what held my father inside.
My small knock was akin to a whisper riding the wind in a thunderstorm, compared to the vast size of everything around me. I lifted my hand to knock a second time, but the door swung ajar, whining its protest at being opened.
I stepped inside, peeking around as I did. The light from the gray courtyard flooded the foyer, showing off glimpses of impressive features coated in dust and webs. I closed the door, trapping myself in the dark.
If I could have gripped to the door I might have. But I forced myself forward. “Hello?” I called with a shaky voice. “Papa?”
No one answered. No one made a sound.
As I rounded a corner a small amount of light found its way to the hallway. Inside the great room I was in, I could see stained glass and high-peaked ceilings with paintings on them and beams of fine wood. The doors were arches and the walls were covered in tapestries and paintings. Carvings and statues filled the corners, making shadows with the little bit of light that danced about the room.
I held my breath, scared of what I couldn't see and followed the light to a small room with a fire and a chair. I couldn't stop myself. I walked to the fire, lifting my hands so my frozen fingers might benefit from some of the heat.
It licked at me, warming some places and soothing others. I dropped to my knees, sobbing for the first time in what felt like ages.
I heaved and cried so hard I scared myself with the noise of it. As a sniffle left me, I wiped my face and wished I could have redone the entire day.
