Little Wife

Warning:
Mature content
Aggressive and detailed description of sex.
Rape

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"You smell fear Daphne," Alaric's cold voice sent chills down her spine.

Her heart thundered in her chest like a wild animal in a cage. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, but it was as if she had inhaled shards of ice. She knew she had to tread lightly.

"Tell me where were you yesterday wifey?" The endearment felt like a slap across her face. "I was at the library," she replied, her voice quivering slightly.

Alaric's gaze pierced through her soul, as if he could see the lie. But it wasn't a lie. She had been at the library, studying, preparing herself for a life away from his clutches.

"Really?" His tone was laced with sarcasm, and the way he took predatory steps toward her made her skin crawl. She took one step back for every step he took forward, until the cold vanity table pressed against her naked back. He had a way of making her feel exposed and vulnerable, even when she wore clothes. Now, with only her trembling legs to shield her modesty, she felt like prey caught in the sights of a ravenous predator.

Alaric's eyes trailed over her body, dark with hunger and something else she couldn't quite place. His breath was hot and heavy on her neck, his chest brushing against hers with every inhale. She could feel his erection pressing against her stomach, a stark reminder of the power dynamics that existed between them. Daphne's eyes darted to the mirror, seeing her own fear reflected in the glass, and she despised the weakness she saw.

"Alaric, please," she whimpered, trying to push him away. But her hands felt like they were made of feathers against his iron-hard body. "You promised you wouldn't do this if I went to university."

He grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head, his grip tightening until she winced. "And you promised me complete submission," he hissed, his eyes flashing with anger. "I find out you've been seeing a lawyer behind my back, and you expect me to just let it slide?"

Daphne's heart raced as she felt his teeth graze her neck, his breath hot and moist. She could smell the scent of whiskey on his breath, and she knew that his control was slipping. "I've given you everything," she protested, her voice barely a whisper. "Everything but my soul."

"And your soul is what I want now," Alaric growled, his grip tightening on her wrists. His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of deceit. But all he saw was a girl desperately trying to survive the hand she had been dealt. "You're mine, Daphne," he murmured, his voice low and possessive. "You always will be."

Daphne felt the heat from his body envelop her, and she closed her eyes, trying to block out the fear that was threatening to consume her. She had been so close to freedom, so close to leaving this monster behind. Now, she was trapped again, her dreams of escape crushed beneath the weight of his anger.

His fingers began to trace the soft skin of her thighs, moving higher and higher, sending waves of dread through her body. She could feel the dampness of his palms as he touched her, his excitement palpable. "Alaric," she pleaded, her voice shaking. "Please don't do this."

"The bird has been flapping its wings for a while," Alaric murmured with a sadistic smile, "It's time to clip those wings, Daphne." His fingers continued their journey up her thighs, the anticipation of his touch making her skin crawl. His eyes, a fiery mix of anger and desire, bore into hers, and she could almost feel the malice in his words.

When his fingers reached the apex of her thighs, she flinched, expecting the usual assault. But instead of finding the slick warmth that had been there countless times before, his fingertips met with something else entirely - dryness. He frowned, his eyes narrowing in confusion and irritation. "You're not wet?" he growled, his voice a guttural rumble that vibrated through her bones. It was a question, but it was also a challenge, a demand for her to respond with the obedience he had grown accustomed to.

But Daphne was done with fear. Something snapped inside of her, a fiery resolve replacing the tremors of dread that had held her hostage for so long. She looked him straight in the eye, her voice stronger than it had ever been. "I'm not your toy, Alaric," she spat, her words a declaration of war. "You can't just expect me to be ready for you whenever you decide to come back."

Surprise flickered in his eyes, quickly replaced by anger. He released her wrists, but before she could react, his hand shot out and grabbed her neck, squeezing just enough to remind her of his dominance. "What did you say?" he snarled, his grip tightening.

Daphne's eyes widened with defiance, and she repeated herself, her voice firm. "Now even my body is rejecting you." The words felt like a declaration of independence she had never dared to speak before. A spark of something unrecognizable flared in Alaric's eyes, and for a moment, she thought she had pushed him too far.

But instead of the expected retaliation, he let her go, his hand dropping to his side as if the fire had gone out of him. He took a step back, his gaze never leaving hers as he processed her words. Daphne could see the cogs turning in his mind, the wheels of his twisted logic trying to understand why his usual tactics weren't working.

For a moment, there was silence in the room, the only sound the ragged breaths escaping her lips. Then, Alaric's hand shot out again, but this time, it was not to harm her, but to caress her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with surprising tenderness. "Why, Daphne?" His voice was softer now, almost pleading. "Why do you push me away?"

The question was like a knife to her heart. For six months she had prayed for his absence, wished for the day she could leave this nightmare behind. Now, his touch, his concern, felt like a mockery of the gentle caresses she had dreamed of from a loving partner. She steeled herself, refusing to give in to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he had changed.

"You know why, Alaric," she whispered, her voice filled with a sadness that surprised even her. "You've taken everything from me. My dignity, my choice, my body." She swallowed hard, pushing down the bile that threatened to rise. "I just want to be free."

Alaric's hand froze on her cheek, his thumb hovering just above her skin. His eyes searched hers, and for a brief, fleeting moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something that resembled regret. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, and in its place was the cold, calculating stare she knew all too well. "You will always be mine," he murmured, his voice a dark promise.

Daphne felt a shiver run through her. She knew that she had crossed a line, but she also knew that she had to stand her ground. She couldn't spend the rest of her life living in fear of this man. "If that's what you believe," she said, her voice steady, "then you're wrong."

Alaric's expression grew darker, the tenderness vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. He stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. "You think you know what you're playing at?" he asked, his tone low and menacing. "You think you can just walk away from this?"

Daphne felt the weight of his words, the implication that she was nothing more than his possession. But she had endured enough, and she knew she had to stand firm. "I'm not playing games," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm telling you the truth."

"It looks oike I have to remind you of your place, wifey," Alaric chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with a malicious intent that sent a shiver down Daphne's spine. Before she could react, his hand shot down and grabbed her firmly by her most sensitive area, squeezing in a way that was painfully possessive.

Daphne gasped, her eyes watering with pain and indignation. She had never felt more humiliated or degraded in her life. "Leave me!" she screamed, her voice a mix of anger and fear. But Alaric's grip tightened, his teeth bared in a savage smile.

"You think you can defy me?" he snarled. "You're just a child, playing at adult games. I'll show you what happens when you try to run from your husband."

Daphne's eyes blazed with determination. "I'm not running," she ground out through clenched teeth. "I'm choosing my future, and it's not with you."

Alaric's smile twisted into a snarl, his grip on her becoming painful. "We'll see about that," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear as he yanked her toward the bed.

Daphne's knees buckled as she was thrown onto the mattress, the softness doing little to cushion the impact. She landed with a gasp, her body bouncing slightly from the force. Alaric followed her, his weight pressing down on her as he straddled her waist, his hands planted firmly on either side of her head.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" he whispered, his breath hot on her neck. "But you're just a naive little girl who thinks she can outsmart me."

Daphne felt a surge of anger and disgust. "I'm not playing games," she hissed, trying to push him away. But Alaric was too strong, his weight pinning her down, his hands too powerful. He leaned over her, his eyes a storm of emotions she couldn't decipher. For a moment, she saw something that might have been hurt, but it was quickly buried under his usual mask of anger and lust.

"You want to leave me?" He leaned closer, his breath hot and heavy on her face. "Fine. But you'll do it with my ring on your finger, with my baby in your belly." His words were a declaration, a promise of a future she never wanted.

Daphne's eyes widened in horror as she realized his true intentions. She thrashed beneath him, her nails digging into his arms as she tried to fight him off. "No," she screamed, her voice hoarse with fear and anger. "I won't let you do this to me!"

But Alaric was relentless, his hands moving to her hips as he tried to position himself over her. Daphne's mind raced, desperately searching for a way to escape this new hell he was forcing upon her. Her thoughts turned to her sister, the one who had abandoned her in this nightmare, and the rage she had buried deep within her surfaced like a volcano erupting.

Summoning every ounce of strength she had, she bucked her hips, throwing Alaric off balance. He stumbled back, his eyes flashing with surprise and anger. Before he could recover, Daphne bolted from the bed, her bare feet slapping against the cold marble floor as she raced for the door.

"You're not going anywhere," Alaric snarled, lunging after her. She could feel his hot breath on her neck, his hand reaching out to grab her again. But she was fueled by adrenaline now, the fear turning into a fiery determination that she hadn't known existed.

With surprising agility, she slipped from his grasp and darted toward the bedroom door. But her victory was short-lived as his strong arm snaked around her waist, pulling her back into his embrace. He flung her onto the bed once more, the mattress bouncing beneath her as he followed her down, his weight pressing her into the soft fabric.

Daphne's body screamed in protest, but she refused to give in. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she pushed against him with all her might. But it was like trying to move a mountain. Alaric's body was a wall of unyielding muscle, his strength overpowering hers.

He straddled her, one hand pressing her shoulder down into the mattress with a force that made her gasp. "So eager to leave me?" he sneered, his other hand reaching for unbuckling his belt, the leather snapping loudly in the quiet room. Daphne's eyes widened with fear and determination, her body straining against his.

With swift, efficient movements, Alaric bound her wrists tightly with the belt, the cold metal of the buckle biting into her skin. She watched in horror as he peeled away his clothes, his arousal clear and repulsive. She felt nauseated at the sight, her stomach churning as she realized the extent of his depravity.

"You weren't wet for me, right?" He roared, the sound echoing through the room. It was a question that didn't require an answer, a statement of his dominance and her supposed submission. Daphne's eyes were filled with a mix of defiance and dread as he leaned over her, his eyes gleaming with a dark hunger she had never seen before.

"Tonight, I'll make you wetter than you ever were," Alaric promised, his voice thick with lust and malice. He claimed her mouth with a bruising kiss, his tongue invading the softness of her lips with a ferocity that left her gasping for air. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, drawing a bead of blood that he greedily lapped away. She could feel the weight of his erection pressing against her, a stark reminder of the power he held over her.

But then his hand moved downwards, and she felt the cool metal of a vibrator instead of the softness of a condom. Her eyes flew open in shock, and she struggled harder against his restraint, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. "What are you doing?" she managed to ask, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief.

Alaric's smile was sinister as he held the vibrator up to her face, his eyes gleaming with a malicious excitement. "I'm going to show you what true submission feels like," he whispered, his breath hot and heavy against her cheek. "You'll be begging for my cock by the end of the night."

"You'll be damp wet for me tonight," Alaric's words echoed in Daphne's mind, a sadistic promise that sent a cold shiver down her spine. His eyes bore into hers, a sick excitement gleaming within them as he brought the vibrator down to her trembling body. "Your slickness flowing outside of your pretty cunt like a river," he whispered, his voice thick with the anticipation of her degradation.

The cold tip of the vibrator touched her clit, sending a shock of sensation through her. Daphne's body tensed, a silent protest against his perverted intentions. But she knew she had to keep her wits about her, to find a way out of this horrific situation. She forced herself to remain calm, her mind racing for a way to escape his clutches.

Alaric's eyes never left hers as he began to stroke the device over her clit, the vibrations increasing in intensity. She could feel her body betraying her, responding despite her mind's protests. A whimper of horror escaped her lips as she felt her arousal begin to build, a traitorous response that disgusted her.

"Look at that," he said, his voice low and satisfied. "So eager for your husband's touch." Daphne clenched her teeth, willing herself not to react, but it was a battle she was losing fast. Her body was a treacherous thing, responding to his cruel ministrations despite her desperate mental resistance.

"I'll make sure you never want for anything," he murmured, his free hand moving to cup her breast, his thumb flicking her nipple as he watched the vibrator work its dark magic. "But remember, Daphne, this is all mine." His words were like acid in her ears, a claim on her body that she never wanted to acknowledge.

Her mind was a maelstrom of emotions-fear, anger, disgust, and a growing sense of betrayal from her own body. Daphne knew she had to find a way to turn the tables, to somehow regain control. She took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving his, and she forced herself to relax, to let her body respond to the relentless vibrations.

Alaric's grin widened as he watched her body's involuntary reactions. "That's it, wifey," he coaxed, his voice thick with lust. "Give in to me." He moved the vibrator in slow, torturous circles, watching with satisfaction as Daphne's hips began to rise and fall with the rhythm. She bit her lip, trying to keep the moans from escaping, but the pleasure was too intense.

"Pity on you," Daphne spat out the words with as much venom as she could muster, "you needed a machine to make a girl wet for you." The words hung in the air like a challenge, and for a moment, she saw something flicker in Alaric's eyes-something that looked almost like doubt.

But the doubt was quickly replaced with rage. He grabbed the vibrator and shoved it into her, the sudden intrusion making her gasp. He twisted the base, and the intensity of the vibrations increased, sending waves of pleasure that she didn't want to feel.

"You think I need a toy to get you wet?" Alaric's voice was a snarl, the vibrator still lodged inside her, the vibrations increasing with each twist of his wrist. "You're going to come for me," he repeated, his voice a mix of anger and desire. "You're going to scream my name, Daphne. You're going to beg me to fill you up, to claim you, to make you mine."

The words sent a bolt of fury through Daphne. "Never!" she shouted, her voice a declaration of rebellion. She bucked her hips, trying to dislodge the vile object, but Alaric's weight was too much. His hand slammed down on the bed beside her head, his face contorted in a grimace of pleasure as he watched her squirm.

"You will," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "You'll come for me, and you'll love it." The vibrator remained lodged within her, the unyielding rhythm forcing her body to respond despite her fierce will to resist. She felt the beginnings of an orgasm building, a traitorous reaction that she hated herself for.

But as sudden as he had started, Alaric stopped. He pulled the vibrator out of her with a wet pop that made Daphne's stomach turn. "But not so soon, wifey," he chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with a twisted excitement. He set it aside, his gaze never leaving hers as he reached for her bound wrists.

Daphne felt a glimmer of hope when she saw the confusion in his eyes, but it was short-lived as he leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I've got other ways to make you scream." His teeth grazed her earlobe, and she shivered despite herself. He unbuckled the belt and let her arms fall to her sides, his own groin sliding up to replace the vibrator.

Her breath hitched as she felt his hardness pressing against her, the heat of his body suffocating her. "Please," she managed to say, her voice a mere whisper. But it was too late. Alaric's hand shot out, slapping her across her womanhood with a force that left her body ringing.

"You dare to defy me?" His voice was a thunderous roar in her ear, his eyes burning with a fury that made her tremble. "You'll pay for your insolence." He positioned himself at her entrance, the tip of his manhood pushing against her, seeking entry.

Daphne felt a tear slide down her cheek, mixing with the sweat that beaded on her forehead. Her body was a battleground, torn between the need to resist and the inescapable pleasure that was building against her will. She knew she had to find a way to break free, to reclaim her dignity before it was too late.

The slap to her womanhood stung like a thousand bees, the pain searing through her and making her cry out. "This is for going behind me," Alaric roared, his hand coming down again, this time with more force. Each blow sent a fresh wave of agony, but with it came an unexpected rush of anger.

"This is for wanting to leave me," Alaric spat, his hand rising and falling with punishing precision, each strike eliciting a cry from Daphne's lips that grew more desperate with every hit. Her eyes searched the room wildly for an escape, but all she found was the cold, unyielding stone of the walls.

"This is for thinking you could outsmart me," Alaric growled, his hand connecting with her tender flesh again and again. The pain was unbearable, but Daphne clenched her teeth and focused on the anger that was growing inside her like a fiery storm. She knew she couldn't let him win, couldn't let him take her body and soul without a fight.

"And this is for not being the obedient wife I deserve," Alaric snarled, his hand connecting with a brutal force that made stars explode behind Daphne's eyes. Each slap sent a shock of pain through her body, but she bit down on her lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

The room spun around her, the pain blurring her vision. But she found strength in her anger, her resolve to escape this monster growing with every passing second. Her body was wet with more than just arousal now-sweat and tears mingled on her skin, a testament to the turmoil of emotions raging within her.

With a roar of triumph, Alaric pushed into her, and an agonizing scream tore from her throat. Her nails dug into the soft flesh of his arms, leaving deep gouges that would surely scar. But the pain she felt was nothing compared to the violation of her soul. This was not making love-it was war, and she was the spoils of his victory.

Daphne's thoughts raced, searching for a way to escape, to fight back. But her body was trapped beneath his, his weight crushing her, his power overwhelming her. She could feel his anger in every thrust, his need to dominate her completely. Her mind screamed for release, for the strength to push him away, but her body was a treacherous enemy, responding to his brutal touch.

Tears streamed down her face as she bit back the screams that threatened to escape. But with every painful thrust, she felt something shifting within her. It wasn't pleasure, but a cold, hard anger, a determination to survive, to endure, and to one day break free from his grasp.

Alaric's hands roamed her body, his fingers digging into her flesh as he claimed her, his nails leaving half-moon marks in their wake. He was ferocious in his pursuit of her submission, his teeth grazing her neck and shoulders as he rode her like a beast in heat.

Daphne's eyes were squeezed shut, her face a contortion of pain and anger, her mind racing. His thrusts were brutal, each one driving home the reality of her situation. But amidst the horror, she felt something else-a spark of rebellion. She would not be broken.

Her breath grew ragged as the orgasm he had been building within her approached, the pleasure she had felt earlier now a cruel mockery of what intimacy should be. But as she felt the climax begin to crest, Alaric abruptly withdrew, leaving her on the precipice, denied even the small release she had earned.

"Not so soon, wife! Not until you realize who you are," Alaric's words echoed in the chamber, the malicious glint in his eyes leaving no doubt of his intent. He slammed into her again, the brutal force of his thrusts causing her to see stars as she gritted her teeth and dug her nails into his back. The pain was intense, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

"What's your name wifey?" Alaric's question was a taunt, a sneer in the face of her silent rebellion. He leaned in closer, his breath hot and foul against her skin. "Say it," he demanded, his voice a growl.

"D...Daphne," she choked out, her voice a ragged whisper, the name a declaration of her identity in the face of his degradation. Each thrust was a punctuation to his question, a violent affirmation of his control over her.

"Wrong," he sneered, his hand sliding up to clamp around her throat, cutting off her air. "Tell me, What's your name? Your identity?"

Daphne's eyes bulged as she gasped for air, her nails digging into his skin, leaving bloody crescents. He was choking her, the pressure building, stars dancing in her vision. "Your name," he hissed again, his voice a low growl.

Summoning her last reserves of strength, Daphne spat out, "I'm Daphne, the woman you're raping." The words hung in the air, a declaration of defiance. For a moment, Alaric's eyes widened in surprise before his hand tightened, cutting off her air completely.

"I've asked about your identity wifey?" Alaric's voice was a low rumble, his eyes searching hers for submission as his grip tightened around her throat. But Daphne refused to give in, her spirit burning brighter with each passing second.

"Da... Daphne Stalteri," she choked, her voice barely a whisper, the name a declaration of her existence beyond his ownership. The room grew hazy around the edges as her vision began to fade, her chest heaving for air that wouldn't come. But even as the darkness closed in, she felt a flicker of triumph-she had denied him the satisfaction of hearing her call out his name.

Alaric's eyes narrowed, his grip on her throat loosening slightly as he took in her words. "Stalteri?" He repeated the name with a sneer, his movements inside her growing more violent. "That's wrong," he whispered, his voice a dark caress against her ear. "You're not Daphne Stalteri anymore." He pulled out and thrust into her with renewed force, her body jerking with the suddenness of his movement.

"Tell me wifey, what's your identity now!" Alaric's grip on her throat loosened just enough for Daphne to gasp in a mouthful of air.

"Daphne... Ru...Russo," she forced out the words through the pain, her voice a hoarse whisper that seemed to hang in the air like a taunt. The name was a lie, but it was one that she hoped would push him away, to remind him that she was not the girl he thought he owned.

A satisfied laughter escaped from Alaric, the sound sending a chill down her spine. "Near, but not accurate, wifey," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with a dark amusement. He pulled out of her, only to slam back in with a force that made her body arch off the bed. The pain was blinding, but she knew she had to keep fighting, to keep her identity intact even if it was only in her own mind.

"I've whole time till you recognize your identity wifey," Alaric's voice was a sadistic purr as he withdrew from her again, the slick sound of her body's involuntary response to his cruelty making her stomach turn. He hovered at her entrance, his eyes never leaving hers as he watched her chest heave with the effort of breathing, her eyes wide with defiance.

And then, without warning, he slammed into her again, the force of his entry tearing a scream from her lips. It was as if he was trying to split her in two, his cock a brutal weapon in his quest to claim her completely. Daphne's body jolted, the pain a searing knife that sliced through her, stealing her breath away.

But she would not be silenced. "Daphnee Alaric Ruussoo!" she screamed, her voice raw and hoarse from the pain and the passion. Her body writhed beneath him, her muscles clenching around his intrusion in a desperate attempt to expel him. Yet with each movement, she felt the beginnings of an orgasm that she didn't want, didn't deserve.

"That's right," Alaric's voice was a triumphant growl. "You're Daphne Alaric Russo,." He ground into her, his hips moving with a brutal efficiency that she had come to know all too well. "Who are you to me? Say it," he demanded, his hand squeezing her neck, his eyes boring into hers.

Daphne's eyes searched the room for anything to focus on, anything but the monster above her. Her chest heaved with each shallow breath, her body a canvas of pain and anger. "Y...your wife," she rasped out, the words acid on her tongue.

Alaric's smile was a twisted parody of happiness. "And what does a wife do for her husband?" His grip on her neck loosened, his hand sliding down to cover her mouth, muffling the scream that was building.

Daphne's eyes filled with tears as she whispered through his palm, "A wife... she obeys." It was the last thing she wanted to admit, but she knew the words were the key to her survival. The pressure on her throat eased, and she took a ragged breath, the taste of his skin lingering in her mouth.

Alaric's grin widened, his eyes alight with a twisted satisfaction. "And did my wife obey me?" he repeated, his hips still moving in a punishing rhythm, driving his question home with every thrust, his voice a dark caress that made her skin crawl. He thrust into her harder, his hand moving from her mouth to grip her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"No!" Alaric's growl ricocheted off the stone walls, his eyes alight with a malicious glint. His hand tightened around her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You've been a bad wife, Daphne," he said, his voice a low, dangerous purr. His thumb stroked her bottom lip, a sadistic reminder of his power.

With a ferocious snarl, Alaric's thrusts grew more punishing, his body moving like a piston, driving into hers with a ferocity that made the bed frame shake. Daphne's eyes watered with pain, but she didn't dare look away from his gaze. She knew what was coming-his twisted idea of punishment for her perceived disobedience.

"And bad wife deserves punishment," his thrust grew ferocious as he whispered the words into her ear, his breath hot and ragged against her neck. Daphne's body was a symphony of pain and unwanted pleasure, a battleground where her will to survive and her desperate need to find some semblance of control clashed violently.

"And you're not allowed a release till I say so" Alaric's words were a dark mantra, punctuating the rhythm of his hips as he claimed her again and again. Daphne's eyes squeezed shut, the agony of his possession mixing with the sickening feeling of her body's betrayal. She could feel her climax approaching, a treacherous wave threatening to crash over her, but she clenched her muscles, desperately trying to hold it at bay.

But as she felt the peak of pleasure approaching, Alaric pulled out again with a sinister smirk, his cock glistening with her juices. Daphne's body trembled, her breaths coming in gasps as she fought to hold onto the last shreds of her dignity.

"Please," she managed to whisper, the word sticking in her throat.

"If you want a release, satisfy me with your answers," Alaric said with a sadistic grin, pushing back inside her. Daphne's body trembled, the mix of pain and pleasure making it difficult for her to think straight. She knew what he was doing-twisting her emotions, making her beg for what she didn't truly want.

"Now tell me, who own you?" Alaric's eyes bore into hers, his voice a demand she couldn't ignore. Daphne's eyes searched the room again, desperation clouding her vision. She knew she had to play his twisted game if she ever wanted to escape this hell.

"You," she murmured, the word a barely audible whisper. His eyes narrowed at her response, his hand moving to squeeze her throat once more. "Say it louder," he ordered, his voice a deadly rumble. "Say it like you mean it."

"Alaric!" Daphne's voice was a desperate scream as she arched her back, the pain of his grip on her neck mixing with the exquisite agony of his thrusts. Her body was his plaything, a tool for his depraved amusement. Yet even as she hated herself for it, she felt the beginnings of another orgasm, a treacherous betrayal that only fueled her anger.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot and sour. "Say it," he demanded, his voice a harsh whisper. "Say it like you mean it." His eyes searched hers, looking for the submission he craved.

Daphne swallowed, her voice a shaky whisper. "Alaric owns me." The words torn from her, a confession she never wanted to make. But it was the only way to end this, to get him off her and out of her body.

Alaric's eyes lit up with triumph, a victory that only served to fuel her anger. "Good girl," he murmured, his grip on her throat easing slightly. His hips slowed, his cock still deep inside her, as if savoring the power he had over her.

"If I own you, then who's in charge of decisions related to us?" Alaric's question hung in the air, thick with the scent of his sweat and her fear. Daphne's eyes searched his, looking for any hint of compassion, any crack in the armor of his depravity. But all she found was cold, unyielding steel.

"You," she murmured, her voice a defeated whisper. It was the answer he wanted, the affirmation of his power over her. He leaned in closer, his breath a hot, suffocating cloud against her cheek. "And who decides the fate of our marriage?"

Daphne felt a tear slip down her face as she whispered, "You do, Alaric." Her words were a surrender, a temporary one, but she knew that to survive this night, she had to play by his rules. His eyes searched hers, looking for the truth in her lie.

"Right?," he murmured, his grip loosening slightly, his hips moving with a deliberate, agonizing slowness that made her want to scream with frustration. "Then, tell me, why were you seeing that lawyer?" His voice was a silky threat, his eyes never leaving hers.

Daphne's mind raced. She had to find a way to keep him talking, to keep his anger at bay. "I... I just wanted to understand my options," she lied, her voice shaking. "I didn't know how to deal with... this," she gestured feebly at their entwined bodies.

"Lie!" Alaric exclaimed, picking up his pace. His eyes blazed with fury as he slammed into her, each thrust a punishment for her perceived deceit. "You're still my wife, Daphne" he snarled, his teeth clenched. "WIFE!" His hips moved like a piston, driving the lie into her with each powerful thrust.

Daphne's eyes squeezed shut as she felt the tears fall. "Please," she begged, her voice trembling with each word. But Alaric was relentless, his need for dominance overshadowing any semblance of compassion.

"Why?" He repeated, his voice a thunderous demand, his thrusts growing more punishing with every syllable. "Why would you even think of leaving me?" His eyes searched hers, looking for a hint of regret, of weakness.

Daphne's throat tightened, the tears now a silent river down her cheeks. "I just want to be happy," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their bodies colliding.

Alaric's eyes searched hers, his expression unreadable. "And you think you'll find that with another man?" he sneered, his movements growing more frantic. "You're mine, Daphne," he said, his voice a low growl. "You'll never be happy with anyone else."

Daphne felt a surge of anger and bitterness at his words, her eyes flashing with defiance. "But I'll never be happy with you, monster," she spat out, her voice dripping with venom. She knew she had to keep playing his game, keep him talking, but she couldn't hold back the truth anymore.

Alaric's expression darkened, his grip on her neck tightening as his thrusts grew more erratic. "You will," he grunted, his eyes narrowing. "You will be happy with me, because you have no choice."

Daphne's body responded despite herself, her muscles tightening around him as the orgasm she had been fighting for so long approached. She hated herself for it, for the way her body seemed to crave his touch even as her mind rebelled.

"Look at me," Alaric barked, his voice a command that she couldn't ignore. She opened her eyes to find him staring down at her, his gaze intense and unyielding. "Look at the man who owns you."

Daphne's eyes met his, the anger and despair warring within her soul reflected in the depths of his own. She knew he wanted to see fear, to watch her break under the weight of his dominance. But she found something else in his gaze-something almost desperate, as if he needed her to submit completely.

Her body responded to his demands, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave of fire, her muscles contracting around his cock. She hated herself for the pleasure she felt, for the way her body betrayed her, but she couldn't help it. It was a twisted dance of pain and pleasure that she had no control over.

As the tremors of her climax began to fade, Daphne felt a bone-deep weariness settle over her, the exhaustion of a marathon runner who hadn't stopped to breathe. Her limbs felt like lead, her mind foggy with the effort of maintaining her mental fortitude. But she knew she couldn't let go, couldn't let him see the depth of her despair.

"Did you do right by deciding to end our marriage?" Alaric's voice was a harsh rasp, his eyes searching hers as if he could read the truth in their depths. His cock was still buried inside her, his hips still moving with a brutal rhythm that seemed to echo the chaos in her soul.

Daphne swallowed hard, the taste of bile in her mouth. "No," she whispered, the lie sticking to her tongue. His expression didn't change, but she felt his grip on her throat loosen slightly. It was a small victory, but one she would take.

"Then why?" he demanded, his eyes searching hers. "Why would you seek a divorce?"

Daphne felt the weight of his stare, her heart racing with fear and anger. "I wouldn't," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Alaric paused, his body still, his eyes boring into hers as if trying to extract the truth from her very soul. The silence was deafening, the only sound the harsh rasp of their breathing in the candlelit chamber.

"Will you repeat it again?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. His hips had stilled, his cock still buried deep within her, the question hanging in the air like a sword of Damocles.

Daphne's eyes searched his, desperation and anger warring within her. She knew what he wanted to hear, but the words stuck in her throat like shards of glass. "I... I wouldn't," she forced out, the lie a painful concession.

Alaric's hand slid from her throat to her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw in a gesture that was almost tender. "Now you're my little wife," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers. His hips began to move again, his pace deliberate and maddening.

Daphne's body responded despite her anger, her muscles tightening around him as the beginnings of another orgasm began to build. She hated herself for the way her body reacted, for the traitorous pleasure that she felt in his arms.

"You see," Alaric's voice was a smug purr, "You do want this. You do want me." His hard manhood sliding inside her sensitive flesh with a precision that made her want to scream. He knew exactly how to manipulate her body, how to make her betray her own thoughts.

Daphne's eyes remained shut, her mind racing as she felt the inevitable climax approaching. She was broken, shattered into a million pieces, and he held every shard in his cruel grasp. Her body was a battleground, a canvas for his sick pleasures.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice a dark whisper. "Say you want me." His hips ground against her, his movements deliberate and punishing.

Daphne's jaw clenched as she forced the words out through gritted teeth. "I want you, Alaric." Her voice was a ragged whisper, the lie a bitter pill to swallow. His eyes searched hers, looking for the truth she knew he'd never find.

His hand moved from her cheek to her throat, squeezing gently, a silent reminder of his power. "Good" he murmured, his voice a dark caress that sent a shiver down her spine. "You're learning."

Daphne felt a tear slip down her face, the salty wetness a stark contrast to the dry heat of the room. She hated herself for playing along, for giving him what he wanted. But she knew it was the only way to survive.

Alaric's eyes searched hers, his hand moving down to her neck, his thumb circling her throat in a possessive caress that made her stomach clench. He felt his own release chasing him, his hips moving with a desperate urgency that spoke of his need to claim her completely. He pulled out, his manhood dripping of his and hers juices.

"MINE," he growled, the word a declaration of war as he pushed her legs wider apart, his cock plunging deeper into her. Daphne's eyes widened in pain and horror as she felt the pressure building, the orgasm he was forcing on her. She didn't want this, didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had broken her completely.

"Say it," he ordered, his eyes boring into hers, his grip on her throat tightening. "You're mine, Daphne." His voice was a mix of anger and lust, a volatile cocktail that made her blood run cold.

Daphne's eyes searched his, looking for any hint of compassion or humanity. But all she found was a cold, hard resolve that made her stomach churn. "I'm yours," she murmured, the words a painful concession to his dominance.

Alaric's hand tightened on her neck, a silent declaration of victory. "You're mine," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic pleasure. "Now, scream for me," he ordered, his hips moving faster, his cock driving into her with a ferocity that was almost painful.

Daphne's eyes squeezed shut as she tried to hold back the scream building in her chest. But as he reached his climax, she couldn't help the sound that tore from her throat-part pain, part anger, part a silent scream of despair. Her body clenched around him, her muscles contracting in a final, unwanted release that sent a jolt of agony through her.

Alaric's face twisted with pleasure as he came, his seed spilling into her. He leaned down, his breath hot against her neck as he whispered, "You're mine now, Daphne. You'll always be mine." Daphne felt a shudder of revulsion, but she held her tongue, knowing that any defiance now would only lead to more pain.

And she lay before him completely shattered, her body a battleground of his desires. The candlelight cast eerie shadows across the room, a macabre dance of light and dark that mirrored the tumult of her soul. Each breath she took was a struggle, her lungs burning with the effort of drawing in enough air to sustain her.

Alaric hovered above her, his chest heaving with the exertion of his climax. His eyes searched hers, a twisted mix of triumph and something else-a hint of confusion, perhaps. Daphne knew he was looking for the submission he craved, the final piece of the puzzle that would make her his. But she had given him the words, the lies, not the surrender he sought.

He pulled out of her with a wet sound that made her stomach churn, a final act of ownership. Her legs fell open, limp and lifeless, the evidence of his dominance spilling out of her. Daphne felt the weight of his gaze as he pecked a kiss on her forehead, his voice a low murmur of satisfaction. "You're now looking like my little wife, Daphy," he said, his words sticky sweet with victory.

Curling into a fetal position, Daphne's muscles screamed with pain, each one a silent witness to his cruel ministrations. Her body felt bruised, used, and discarded, a mere object to satisfy his twisted desires. She could feel the sticky warmth of his semen trickling down her thighs, a reminder of her helplessness. The room was spinning, her vision blurred with tears, and the only sound was the harsh rasp of her breathing, punctuated by the occasional sob she couldn't hold back. Her legs trembled as she tried to draw her knees closer to her chest, seeking comfort in the tight embrace she could offer herself. But every movement sent a jolt of pain through her, a cruel echo of his touch.

Her thoughts were a tumultuous storm, a whirlwind of anger, fear, and despair. How had she come to this? How could she ever escape his grasp? The taste of his sweat and her own fear still lingered in her mouth, a bitter reminder of her defeat. Daphne knew she had to find a way out, had to regain some semblance of control. But as she lay there, her body shaking with the aftermath of his violence, she couldn't find the strength to even imagine a future beyond the four walls of this room.