Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Gio

My cock, already semi-hard from carrying my bride through the halls and anticipating our wedding night, rose to full interest as I watched the tear slip down her reddened cheek. The waterfall into the loo proved that she really had needed to use the facilities. It was not the act itself that aroused me but what it symbolized—how completely and thoroughly she was now mine.

From the ring on her finger announcing my claim publicly to this very intimate moment, which did the same to her privately, there was no escaping it.

And yet, I needed more. Wanted more.

As she finished, sniffling now, I stepped forward and picked up the new roll of toilet paper my aunt now preferred over the newspaper, tearing off a piece and balling it up.

"Spread your legs, babydoll."

Clara's head jerked up, horror and disbelief spreading across her face as she stared up at me.

"What?" The same horror and disbelief in her expression was clear in her voice.

"Spread your legs so I can clean you." I held up the toilet paper, smirking as understanding leaked into her eyes, but the previous emotions remained. The idea of me wiping her clean horrified her, and she was struggling to believe that I truly wanted to.

Yesterday, the thought would have never occurred to me.

But right here, right now, at this moment, I wanted to put another stamp of my ownership on her. To demonstrate how fully I had access to every part of her, to show her that she could not deny me.

"No!" She squeezed her legs together, hands crossed over them to hold on to her knees. Her beaded dress shifted around her as her shoulders hunched.

"Now, babydoll. Spread your legs for Daddy. You will not like what happens if I have to do it for you." Truthfully, I wasn't entirely sure what I would do if she forced the issue, but I was sure I would come up with something. And I very much doubted she would enjoy whatever I came up with.

But what I wanted was for her to do it herself. To acquiesce to my demand. To submit to me.

I stared down at her, waiting, enjoying the growing heat in her cheeks, the way her gaze shifted away. She was going to do it.

"Last chance, babydoll. Five, four, three, two?—"

Closing her eyes, she gulped and spread her legs just before I could say ‘one.'

Crouching down in front of her, I blessed the invention of indoor plumbing and my uncle's need to have the latest of everything in his home. If she had not been sitting, it might have been more difficult to convince her to do this—she might have tried to run if she'd been crouched over the pot instead of trapped atop the toilet.

The delicious feeling of power spread through me as I ran the paper between her pussy lips, wiping clean the area that I was going to be fucking very, very soon. My cock ached, throbbing as I put another stamp of ownership on her our relationship. She let out a little whine as I touched her, wiping her, her brow furrowed as if she couldn't believe this was happening to her.

Pulling away, I folded the paper over and dropped it in the waste basket beside the toilet, moving to the sink to wash my hands. Beside me, Clara pressed her legs back together, dropping her head down in shame.

I couldn't wait anymore.

Wiping my hands dry on the towel, I spun and lifted her body off the toilet, ignoring her gasp.

"Gio! Stop!"

"It's Daddy now," I said, striding into our room. Our room. "And no."

I tossed her onto the bed, her skirt still rucked up about her waist, panties around her ankles. Her blue eyes were wide open now and dazed as she stared up at me. Tugging at my bowtie, I pulled it off and reached for her. She tried to bat my hand away, which was exactly what I needed to grab hold of her arm.

It took me less than a minute to tie her wrists together, securing them and then stretching her arms out above her head to tie the ends to the headboard.

"Daddy! Please!" she squealed as I leaned over her, keeping her pinned in place with my weight against her body as I secured her to the bed.

"Please, what, babydoll?" I asked, pulling back to admire my handiwork before looking down at her. She looked so small beneath me, so delicate, her breasts heaving against her dress. Damn. I should have taken that off first. I wanted access to her whole body, and the fashionable necklines were too damned high these days.

With my knees planted between her thighs, she was forced to bend at the waist, her legs on either side of mine, leaving her pink pussy open and vulnerable. She made a very pretty picture like that, but I still wanted access to her breasts.

Grabbing hold of the neckline, since she wasn't answering me anyway, I ripped. Clara shrieked in dismay as tiny beads went flying through the air, the sound of them hitting the floor like a little patter of rain that kept falling even after the fabric was done ripping.

"What are you doing?!"

"This."

I hadn't needed to rip the dress very far, just far enough to be able to pull the fabric away from her breasts. Cupping the twin peaks between my hands, I lowered my face to them, immediately seeking out one nipple with my teeth while I squeezed the soft flesh, digging my fingers in hard enough to make her squeal and squirm beneath me.

* * *

Clara

He'd ripped my wedding dress.

I shouldn't care, but I did, and I was mad, but there was nothing I could do about it. I was utterly helpless beneath him. Tied to his bed. My pussy still tingled where he'd wiped me clean, my clit throbbing from that tiny touch, nonsexual though it had been.

I wanted to beg him to stop, yet I knew it was pointless.

There was also the part of me that didn't want him to stop. The traitorous, hedonistic part of me that wanted him to keep going. That would be disappointed—though that was too tame a word—if he ceased his assault on my senses.

I bit back a moan as he sucked my nipple into his mouth, pulling hard on the tiny bud. My body shuddered in reaction, the flash of pleasure going straight from my chest down to my quivering pussy. My bottom clenched, remembering the sensation of his cock sliding inside it, the pain—and the pleasure.

That's not where he was going to have me tonight, though, and I knew it. My pussy pulsed as his mouth moved, switching nipples. I could feel his hard body against me, his weight lying atop me, as my senses were roused. I could feel the tops of my stockings starting to roll down my thighs as he moved against me, the ribbons holding them in place coming loose from all the movement.

"Daddy, please!" I didn't know if I was asking him to stop or keep going when his teeth bit down on the turgid bud between his lips. It hurt, it ached, yet it felt so good, too. I jerked my hands against the bowtie, the fabric digging into my wrists and keeping me immobile.

"Don't worry, babydoll. Daddy's going to take care of you." He said the words around my nipple, muffled but intelligible. Hands moved down to my lower body, hitching it upward, one sliding behind me to cup my bottom, the other to my pussy. Fingers pushed at my opening, thick and demanding, and I cried out as he pushed them inside me, stretching me.

Then his mouth came down on mine, muffling my cry as he moved his fingers.

The stiff, starched shirt he was wearing and the textured fabric of his tux jacket rubbed against my breasts, abrading my damp, sensitive nipples. I cried out again as the tumult of sensation tumbled over me. His hand on my bottom shifted again, his fingers sliding to the center, seeking out the hole there as well. No matter how I squirmed, I couldn't get away from his relentlessly questing digits, the two that were pumping into my pussy, the one that sought and found my bottom hole.

It circled, pressed, pushing just the tip into the dry entrance, making me cry out against his lips because it hurt even as his other hand pleasured. I clenched down automatically, trying to keep him out, which made my pussy tighten around his fingers.

Then his fingers were gone, and he was ripping off his jacket and shirt. The buttons flew, the same way the beads on my dress had. The hungry expression on his face, the fiery need in his eyes, took my breath away as he opened the front of his pants, the thick battering ram of his cock springing out.

Placing his hands on my knees, he pushed them upward and outward, folding me in half. I could feel the cool beads against my upper thighs as he pressed them against my dress.

"Daddy, please, be gentle," I begged, my heart in my throat. What else could I ask for at that moment?

Something flashed in his eyes.

He didn't answer.

The tip of his cock pressed against my slick womanhood. I whimpered. He pushed in, slowly… I wasn't sure I could call it gently, but he took his time stretching me open, pulling back, then thrusting in again, going deeper every time. It hurt. It ached. I writhed at the unfamiliar sensations. Yes, I had touched myself before, many times, but it had never felt like this.

All the while, he watched me, drinking in the sight of me slowly being impaled on his cock. My body quivered beneath his as he took my virginity… made me his. When his hips finally came to rest against my body, I let out a ragged, sobbing breath at the sensation. I felt so full. So invaded. Just as much, if not more so, as when he'd put his cock in my bottom.

It didn't hurt as much as that, at least… it felt so much better. Which was devastating in its own right.

Part of me didn't want it to feel so good.

Then he began to move.

I cried out, arching my back, thrusting my breasts up as if asking for him to touch them—and he obliged, his fingers closing around them as he began to ride me. The sudden onslaught of sensation was intense, pleasure spiced with pain as I was stretched, his cock moving against previously untouched flesh, going so deep inside me, I thought I was going to split open.

Every time he thrust in, his body rubbed against my swollen lips and my pulsing clit, sending another jolt of ecstasy through me. Everything was tingling, humming with desire, with need, yet the sensations were so intense, so overwhelming, I couldn't reach my peak.

It was too much.

"Mine," he growled, looking down at me, his cock moving inside me, hands gripping my hips to hold me in place while he pounded me into the bed. "My wife. My babydoll."

I was too breathless to answer, too overwhelmed to protest.

Something was building deep inside me, spurred on by the steady assault of his body pushing into mine, rubbing against mine, but it was too much. I fought against the rising tide, struggling to push it away, to push it down. I couldn't handle it… but just like Gio, it was inevitable. The all-encompassing rapture built up higher and higher, winding me tighter and tighter until I finally snapped.

The ecstasy exploded inside me at the same time the scream exploded out of me. I couldn't hold it back. Not the pleasure, not the noise, not the way my body writhed beneath Gio's. I heard his groan from a distance and felt his shudder against me as he plunged in deep. His body rubbed against mine, stimulating my already oversensitive clit, and I screamed again as the sensations whirled, spinning round and round and sucking me under.