EroticReverie

Kane King

Angelina Ares, is and always has been picture fucking perfect, the most gorgeous fucking woman I've ever seen. Her long blonde hair, those crystal blue eyes, and that body of hers. I'm seven years older than her, but when I was twenty two, and she was fifteen, and I'd seen her at the Society's ball three years ago, I knew that I'd make her mine. It wasn't uncommon for men in the society to claim them when they were young. That's just how things worked. There were never any women my own age to be claimed, as the Society started marrying them off as early as sixteen to the men in their early twenties. At eighteen I was put through initiation, a four year process. Not all young men made it to the end, but I had. I had been deemed the most ruthless prospect the Society had seen in decades. No task was to gruesome. I asked no questions, and took no fucking prisoners. I knew what was expected of me, we all did, and I had refused to lose at anything. 

I knew the second I'd seen her that I would claim her on her sixteenth birthday. Her name hadn't even been put into the pool of available females when it came time for the yearly commitments. She'd been mine the second I'd went to her home, and told her father I wanted his daughter for my wife. I'd expected him to hand her right over, to give her to me at sixteen years old. But Becker Ares told me he wasn't handing her over until she was eighteen.  He knew what a gem he'd created. How valuable Angelina was. Those good looks, that figure. He'd promised her to me that very day, as long as I'd wait until she was eighteen. I'd readily agreed. Because i'd have waited as long as he'd wanted , as long as I got her. As long as Angelina Ares was fucking mine. 

Being the second richest society family, in all chapters, I knew he would give her to me. Let me claim her. As with everything in my life. If I wanted it, I got it. If it wasn't given to me, I'd fucking take it. As is the way of the Society. No isn't a viable option, unless you allow it to be. Many of the society men carried this into every aspect of their lives. Including how they treated women, especially their own wives. I could have fucked Angelina on our wedding night. She'd been willing to give herself to me, like the obedient "object" she'd been groomed to be for her entire life. I could have taken her right over the altar at our wedding ceremony and nobody would have batted an eye. Because she was mine, to do with as I fucking pleased the second I'd claimed her life as mine in front of hundreds of Society members.  However, I think i'm the only man in the entire Society that doesnt get off on forcing women to fuck me. The way she'd licked her fucking fingers to wet her pussy for me, had only turned me off. I wouldn't fuck a woman that didn't want it. Especially not her. It didn't get me off the way it would other men. When I fucked my wife, it would be because she wanted it. Fucking NEEDED it. 

I look at her across the table from me now, in that fucking red dress, looking like everything any man could ever want. I can't keep my eyes off her tits, and I don't try. Because they belong to me. The red satin drapes over her tits, swooping down below her breasts, leaving me a perfect view of her cleavage, her breasts hanging naturally, those nipples fucking taunting me as they press against the fabric. Theyre so fucking hard and my cock is painfully hard as well, just from looking at her. 

She was silent the entire drive to the restaurant, and I watch her now, as she looks around at the empty private room, the candles lining the small rectangular table, her on one end, me on the other. Her curious eyes, looking everywhere and over her shoulder. 

"What are you looking for?" I ask , lifting my glass of wine. Her eyes zipping to me. Her lips parting. Those soft lips, that pretty little fucking mouth of hers. 

"I....is it...just us?" she asks and I cock my head slightly. 

"Who else would you be expecting to join us Angelina?" I ask and she shivers under my stare and my eyes drop back to her tits. I swear her nipples get even tighter. 

"No one." she says. "I just wasn't expecting a dinner with just us. I assumed it was a Society dinner." she says and then looks down.

"Would you prefer to have dozens of men here with us?" I ask . She quickly shakes her head. 

"God no" she exhales and then her eyes lift, widening, as if she's afraid I'll punish her for the quick response laced with obvious distate for men of the society. 

"You don't like the Society." I say plainly and she just blinks.

"No. I don't." she says boldly, my cock getting even harder. She's exactly what I want. Everything I knew she'd be. She , much like myself, played the part she was expected to, but didn't accept all that the Society was and is. 

"Why not?" I ask, taking another sip of wine and then setting down my wine glass.

She looks at me, hesitating. I cock my head and lift my brow. 

"I asked you a question. I expect you to answer." I say. 

"That. That is why I don't like the society." she hisses, her plump lips, growing thin as she tightens them into a hot little scowl. Those crystal blue eyes darkening just a bit with anger. Fuck, I can't wait to fuck her. I can't wait to make that mouth suck my cock, and scream my fucking name while that perfect fucking hair is wrapped in my fist, while fucking her from behind over every god damn surface that exists. 

"I dont like how every Society male feels entitled to my respect and submission, and I don't like that I was brought into this world as nothing more than an object for some bastard to claim for himself." she bites out.

"Did you just call me a bastard?" I ask , hiding the smirk that wants to spread across my face and I watch her tense. I watch her nervousness, the panic that sets in. I already know what she expects me to do. She expects me to get up and slap her. She expects me to bruise her or beat her for her bold little fucking mouth. I've seen her flinch more than once now, thinking I'm going to strike her. But that's another part of the Society that I don't care to take part in. Beating my fucking wife. Raping her. Smacking her for no good reason. I craved power, and yes . I was very fucking entitled. But I didn't feel that way about her. Not that I needed to tell her that. Even if I did, she wouldn't believe me. My wife was far too fucking deep in her hatred of the Society to believe a single thing I might tell her that didnt coincide with what we were both taught growing up within it. 

"Yes." She answers finally. I swear I might fucking cum if she keeps it up. Her bold little lift of her chin, that defiant little huff of air that blows through her nose as she glares at me from across the table.

"Hm." I hum and then lift my wine glass, peering over it, neither of us breaking eye contact as the door across the room opens, the waiter bringing in our plates, our eyes locked, the waiter silently setting the food before us and pouring more wine into my glass. The silence is deafening. 

"May I get you anything else Mister King?" The waiter keeps his head down, not making eye contact.

"We're all set here. Thank you. Please dont return for the rest of our time here." I say. It would seem rude to say elsewhere, but I know I'm doing the waiter a favor more than offending him. I'm telling him exactly what I want and expect, while other society members would expect him to read their minds.

"Yes sir, Thank you." he nods and leaves the room.

"Eat." I say to Angelina, our stare off still taking place as the door closes.

"I'll eat when I want to." she says, surprising me. The corner of my mouth twitches. It had surprised me how agreeable she'd been this afternoon, after I'd lost my fucking mind searching the ground for her. Demanding her to let me know where she is at all times. She'd simply agreed, then dressed herself up for me, with only exactly what I'd laid on the bed and the jewelry pieces I laid on the dresser in my closet. She was smart. To not argue over such simple requests. Yet here she was, arguing over whether or not she would eat. 

"You know,  I could make you eat." I say, lifting my own fork and knife, cutting into my steak. 

She just stares at me, and I again, fight a smirk as she doesnt respond. Challenging me. 

"I could make you do a lot of things Angelina." I say, pushing the tongs into the meat, forking my first piece of steak. 

"A lot of things much worse than seeing to it that you fucking eat." I say, my eyes on her, and she shifts, swallowing, understanding exactly what I'm saying. The threat of all the millions of disgusting things I could do to her, or make her do, if I was the type to force her. 

I fork the meat into my mouth, biting down hard, chewing, my jaw ticking. She picks up her fork and knife.

"Fine." she bites out the word, making me nearly chuckle as she starts to aggressively saw the steak knife into her meat. 

The rest of dinner is as silent as the car ride here. 

The car ride home, even more silent.

When we get inside the estate I slip my hand to her waist , listening to the way her breath hitches. 

"Come with me." I say quietly, taking her through the estate, and into the courtyard. My hand on her lower back the entire way and I can feel the nervousness on her. 

"where are we going?" she whispers, as I take her around the hedge maze, towards the gazebo I found her in earlier. Curled up like a kitten on the bench inside. The relief I'd felt, laying eyes on her, having found her. Wondering if I'd lost her, if she'd tried to run from me. Then seeing her there, napping. Still here. Still mine. 

She lifts her dress as she steps up the gazeebo steps, and I lead her to where she'd been laying.

"sit." I say simply and her breath shudders and she turns, and sits on the bench and looks up at me. 

I unbutton my suit jacket, slowly removing it as she sits there watching me, her eyes falling over me. I unbutton the cuffs of my shirt and roll them up , my hands sliding them up my forearms all the way to my elbow and I watch her eyes go to my arms and then back to me. 

"Please." she shakes her head, my brows pinching. She sounds fucking terrified again. 

"Please what?" I ask, genuinely confused. 

"Please don't hit me." she says and I pause, my hands in mid air, and I look at my rolled up sleeves. THAT is what she thought I was preparing myself for ? To fucking hit her? My nostrils flare and I step forward, her lower lip trembling.

"I'm sorry I don't know what I-"

"Quiet." I say calmly as I slowly, so fucking slowly lift my hands to her face, even as slowly as Im moving, and as gently as I cup her fucking beautiful face, she still flinches. 

I lower my face to hers. 

"Look at me." I say , my voice quiet and low and she lets out the slightest whimper, opening her eyes. I look right into them.

"You will never.....ever....get hit." I say through clenched teeth, because the thought of laying a fucking hand on her in that way, fills me with more rage than I can contain. My hands are visibly shaking against her face.

"Not by me....not by anyone....nobody touches you...nobody hurts you.....ever.....do you understand me?" I growl at her. Tears fill her eyes and she nods. 

"I understand." she squeaks. Still trembling.

"But you dont believe me , do you?" I ask , my hands sliding down her face, over her neck.

"I...no..I don't" she says honestly.

"You will." I say. "Eventually." 

She swallows. 

"I wont hit you. No matter what you do , or don't do. I love power, I'm an entitled bastard, all the things you think of me, are mostly true....but not that....I've never hit a woman, and I don't intend to start with my fucking wife." I snarl. 

I lower myself to the floor of the gazebo and on my knees, I take her foot, undoing the strap of her heel. 

"What are you doing?" she asks, nearly a whisper.

"Taking off your shoes." I say simply, dropping the heel to the wooden floor with a thud and picking up her other foot and removing that one as well. 

"why?" she asks and I lift my eyes to her, my brow cocking.

"so many questions." I say, my fingers curling around the hem of her dress, my fingers brushing against the backs and sides of her smooth legs as I drag the dress up to her knees, my cock jumping at the sound of her breath hitching.

"If you must know..." I say and push the dress over her thighs and she sucks in another breath.

"I want to taste my fucking wife." I say, making her exhale.

"If she wants it...." I add, my fingers drawing down the tops of her thighs to her knees and I push them apart slowly, almost groaning as she lets them spread. 

"Are you spreading your legs because you're my wife and think you have to...or because you want your husband to eat your pretty cunt?" I ask, pushing her legs wider.

"Because it's what you want." she answers me, my nostrils flaring.

"Do I disgust you that much?" I ask, my hands going to her inner thighs, pushing them wider , her dress riding up further till her perfect pussy is on display for me, but I don't look down, I keep my eyes on her. 

"I don't know." she says and I hum, my hands sliding up to her hips. 

I grab them and her chest lifts, that fabric draped over her tits, molding to them.

"Closer." I command her, tugging at her hips, her ass pushing towards the edge of the bench. 

"May I please, lick your gorgeous pussy?" I ask grabbing her legs at the knees and pushing them back, to lift her feet off the ground and she shakes her head, her palms pushing against the bench as she leans back against the wall of the gazebo. Her breath skips and she licks her lips. 

"I..." she stammers as I look up at her. 

"Say yes, or say no....but let it be true. Do YOU want this, because I already know I do...I've known ever since I laid eyes on you, that I wanted to be right  here, between your legs. " I say.

"I...don't want it." she says and I exhale.

"Well...." I say and look down, fucking salivating at the sight of her pussy, the trimmed hair, perfectly smooth lips and manicured triangle patch of hair. 

"I'm going to taste you anyways." I say and she exhales, her legs trembling. 

"Because I've been dying to taste you for years, and the fact I've gone a week since our marriage ceremony, without laying my tongue to this divine fucking cunt, is a tragedy that I can't fucking bare a second longer." I groan and she swallows hard.

"I wont fuck you....not until you ask me to....not until you're ready...not until you want it....but I wont let you deprive me of this gorgeous pussy on my mouth....on my tongue" I whisper over her cunt. 

"Okay" she says obediently and I just grin up at her. 

"Good girl" I mutter softly.