Page 74 of A Tale of Two Dukes

It’s overwhelming, forcing my mind to separate. In my haze, I’m vaguely aware of a thick cloth being shoved in between my lips. I gag as it enters my mouth, earning distorted laughs from both men.

“I thought Birchleigh would have worked on your gag reflex before I got you. Seems as if I’ll have to do some training of my own.”

I hear the words as they surround me, but they’re muffled, as if I’m underwater. All I can feel is William’s arms surrounding me, holding me tight. Even as my jaw aches from the bulk of the cloth, I find that I don’t even care.

It’s not until Mr. Elijah grabs my wrists, pulling them aloft, that panic once more beats at my chest. I cannot escape from the hysteria welling up inside of me. Twist and turn as I might, he does not let go.

With the cravat in my mouth, I cannot scream. Only grunts fill the air as I kick out, my heel connecting with Mr. Beaumont’s thigh. The murderous rage in his eyes as he glares down at me steals my breath.

Surely he cannot fault me for this. I cannot control myself when fear is at the helm. But then, as if it never happened, he smiles at me, his eyes twinkling with some unspoken promise.

“I should have known you’d like it rough. For your delicate sensibilities, I’ve been going easy on you. Glad to know that come our wedding night, I won’t have to hold back.”

Gripping the bottom of my dress, he wrenches it apart, tearing it open. A new fear seizes me. My mark. He will see it soon enough. In my panic, I thrash my legs, nearly kicking him again.

Exasperation makes his frame rigid as he snaps at Mr. Elijah. As if they are one mind, he doesn’t have to speak his command for his servant to know what to do. Grabbing some nearby cord, he ties my hands to the top of the bed before going down to my feet.

“You like being restrained, don’t you? I saw the look in your eyes when that upstart put you in his ropes. What you do not know about me, my dear, is as a sailor, I have far more knots in my arsenal. I can put that false duke to shame with just a flick of my wrists. Shall I show you?”

Mr. Elijah keeps a hold of my ankles as Mr. Beaumont disappears into a chest. The rope he brings out looks far coarser than what William uses on me. My stomach churns as he stalks forward, erection jutting out before him like the prow of a ship.

More precum pearls at the tip, perfuming the air with that salty stench that makes me gag. Since I’m not in the throes of heat, nothing about his scent calls to me.

Shoving Mr. Elijah aside, he kneels at the bed and studies my exposed calves. Somehow, though not looking at a more intimate place on me, I feel naked under the heat of his gaze. And when he skims his fingers up the tight muscles, I feel violated in ways I cannot even express.

The rope he winds about me is indeed far rougher than what William uses. And the knots he ties into it press against my flesh, drawing pain to the areas. My master was my first experience, my first foray into the pleasure rope can bring, and as such, I’m not prepared for the agony that ripples through me like shockwaves.

Tears slip down my cheeks, finally freed by the pain coursing through my veins. It hurts so very much. I’m unable to hold back as they coat my neck and hair, soft, distressing whimpers leaking out from around the gag.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, strapping me down to the bed with my legs open. “Cry for me. Show me just how much my pain affects you.”

I long to stop, to not give him the satisfaction, but something in his tone breaks me open, allowing the despair to take hold. As he skims his palm up the inside of my leg, I cannot help but cry out. He’s so close to discovering my secret.

The moment he touches me, I know he feels it. His hand stops, his fingers brushing over the rough skin. Murderous rage sparks from his eyes as he glares up at me.

“Whore,” he spits out, yanking his hand away as if he’s been burned. “Traitor!” His voice is higher pitched, hysterical almost. “You’ve been such a naughty omega, haven’t you?” Pacing, he stops every few moments to shake his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

With a sigh, he drops back down on the bed, his hand moving over his member. “You give me no choice. Knowing that he’s in your mind, telling you what to do, what to say… I have to move up the timeline. I had hoped to claim you during your heat, implanting my seed in your belly as my teeth buried into your flesh. You ruined everything. Elijah. Her clothes.” He’s unhinged, even more crazed than ever.

“No,” I try to scream out, my command muffled by the gag. But he understands the sentiment all too well.

“When you’re done, pack our bags into the carriage. We leave tonight. Buy fresh horses if you must.”

Frantic sobs choke in my throat as the servant rips through the rest of my dress, exposing me to both of them. Through the bond, I feel William’s rage, and I rest in knowing that retribution will be his. But will he get to me in time?

Leaving tonight. I- That’s all I know. Please. Please, William. Find me. Please.

Breathe, love. You must breathe for me. As if his hand rests upon my sternum, I feel the rhythmic inhales and exhales. It’s the same as when I would awaken from my waking nightmares. It takes the edge off, but just barely.

When Mr. Beaumont straddles me, his cock gliding over my mound, I find I’m once more too delirious in my fear to understand the words coming out of his mouth. All I feel is his knuckles as they brush against my clit, but I find no pleasure in his actions. Revulsion eats at me, turning my mind into pits of madness. William screams at me through the bond, his words fading as I drift.

I cannot see.

I cannot hear.

I cannot feel.

I am nothing.