A Divine Union

He stepped back, allowing her to fall gracelessly into the sand. Using his boot, he prodded her to turn around, and then he knelt over her on the sand, distaste blazing in his eyes. "You're weak. I would have chained you up and whipped you. I should have hung you upside down from that tree over there, forcing you to choke on my cock while all the blood rushed into your head. I should have held your face underwater as I fucked you silly in the sea. And yet, here you are. Weak. And pathetic. Just like that idiot you love so much."

His words stung deeper than the agony he had inflicted upon her. But she gritted her teeth. "Listen to me, you arrogant dimwit. Don't you ever tell a woman she isn't strong, because - oof!"

He had created enough sparks to produce a tiny ember at the hem of her dress. It flickered, beautiful and menacing at the same time, much like Lakir himself. "You, my dear, are the weakest human I have ever laid my eyes on. You won't survive a month with me, let alone live long enough to give me a baby. And weaklings like you don't deserve to live."

She screamed and fought to push him off so she could rush towards the sea, but he held her down with a hand to her throat. Her nails made a beeline for his eyes and he grabbed them with his other hand and laughed. "The more you struggle, the worse your punishment will get." The ember had turned into flames that were unbearably hot.

"So, are you going to behave?" he murmured gently into her ear, ignoring the fire that crept up her dress.

"Oh my God, put it out! Put it out!" she screamed.

He slapped her again, so hard that she had to clench her teeth to not cry out. "Stop the histrionics. What did I fucking ask you?"

"Yes, yes, please" she begged, feeling the fire singe her thigh. "Yes, I'll behave, please, I'm sorry."

"Yes, what?" he continued nonchalantly. "What are you supposed to call me?"

Fuckface, her mind yelled, but she said what he wanted to hear. "Master? No - aaahh - m-my Lord?"

Her answer seemed to please him, and she felt the flames abate. Before she could breathe, his hands were back, slapping her breasts, again and again. She felt her charred dress cling to her burned thigh but did not dare complain. She was going to play his game. She was going to act strong for as long as she could. She wanted to curl up in pain but she let him hit her. Her breasts were sore and probably red from the beating, but he did not let up.

"You. Will. Fucking. Behave," he growled, punctuating each word with a slap that hurt her to the bones. "You. Are. Mine. You will please me. You will serve me. You are nothing. Just a worthless mortal. The best thing to happen to you is me, and you will not forget it."

She shuddered with every slap and wept silently but did not fight back. Perhaps he had expected her to, because, with an enraged roar, he tore off her dress and started to slap her again, even harder. The pain flared up, consuming her conscious thought. Her whole body was now stinging. She squirmed. "Please, please, no more. I can't take anymore."

She had said the wrong thing, displayed her weakness again. He pinched her nipple and twisted it angrily, pulling it so that her breast stood taut against her body. With his other hand, he pulled her other nipple until she was half suspended in air from his grip. As she screamed, his touch became pricklier, until she could feel sparks emanating from his fingertips. The pain she had felt until now was nothing compared to this new torture, and she cried out. He stifled her cries with a kiss, hard and rough, shoving his way into her mouth, forcibly mating with her tongue. His hands let go of her abused nipples and she fell back on the sand. He leaned down and grabbed her lower lip with his teeth, biting down hard until she could taste her own blood. With a pleased grunt, he turned her around, shoving her face into the sand.

"Ass up," he barked. Weeping, she refused, trying to kick at him. He smacked her ass, hard. And then again. And then again, each stinging slap making her groan. He pulled down her panties and shoved a finger forcefully into her hole. She buried her face into the sand to stifle her scream. She was dry, very, very dry. And he had shoved two more fingers in and started to fuck her violently.

"Oh, come now," he chided. "Don't be like that. Here, I can make this good for you, but only if you get wet for me."

She squeezed her eyes shut. This was not happening to her. She had to distance herself from this torture. This wasn't Lakir on top of her. It was Taras. In her mind, she saw him clear as day, smiling down upon her. He leaned in to pepper kisses along her neck, taking a bit of skin between his teeth and biting softly, while his hand gently circled her nub, making her whimper with need, whispering all the things he wanted to do to her, things she had dreamed about for a long time. He was rougher than she had imagined he would be, but she liked it, liked feeling like a fragile doll in his arms who might break if he made one wrong move. She felt herself getting wet for him and moaned softly, squirming so he could push her fingers into her, rubbing her canal gently at first, and then harder, rougher, until she couldn't take it anymore. A wave started to build inside her, turning into a tsunami, until it crested and she came with a loud moan.

"That's right, Darling," a voice crooned in her ear.

"Oh, Taras, I love you," she sighed. The fingers inside her suddenly stopped moving, and cold dread took hold of her.

Lakir flipped her over, his tempestuous eyes penetrating hers. "What did you just say?" His voice was soft, like the calm before a storm. A horrible, devastating storm.

Amara glared back defiantly. "I said I love Taras. I had to imagine I was with him just now so I could feel any arousal. Surely you understand how much I hate you!"

She wasn't sure what she was expecting. Perhaps he would reach deep into her and rip out her stuttering heart. Perhaps he would repent and take her back to Taras. But no, he just stared at her.

"You are mine now," he said, slowly, dangerously. "You belong to me. You will love me. You will love only me." And then he took her legs and pushed them back, until they were over her head. She groaned at being contorted this way, but her groans turned into cries of terror as she heard the sound of unzipping.

"I suppose I wanted to go easy on you at first," he mused, one hand holding her legs back while the other slowly stroked his cock. His extremely wide cock. "I thought I'd only fuck you in the pussy, lick you, tease you, make you want it, want me. But no, you need to be taught a lesson, don't you? You need to be fucked in a way Taras would never even dream of doing." She couldn't even look at his cock as it pushed against her asshole. She didn't want to. She clenched her eyes and tried to focus on something else, anything else. But she couldn't. Not this time. He was right. Taras would never fuck her in the ass like this. He would never hurt her the way she was about to be hurt.

Without warning, Lakir thrust into her, making her scream in agony. He had not bothered to lubricate himself at all and it hurt. Oh God it hurt so much. She felt herself start to tear.

"Good," he grunted, as he pushed into her. "Bleed, my darling. Bleed for me. Remember who owns you."

His thrusts were deep and fast, massaging her insides in a way no man had ever done before. The blood did help and the pain caused the knot in her stomach to tighten with a need she hadn't felt before. Despite herself, despite the fear and the pain, she felt herself transfixed by his gaze. His dark eyes, flecked with grey, like raging thunderclouds against the midnight sky, threatening to strike her down. She was nothing, a mere particle of dust compared to this man, this god, who was inside her, making her feel things she should not have been feeling, keeping her poised on the razor thin edge between pleasure and pain. She involuntarily licked her lips and bit back a moan, which he noticed.

She seized up as waves of shock started to pass from his cock inside her. It seemed like her insides were burning up, like her flesh would melt. There was no pleasure anymore, just pain. She started to twitch, screaming until her throat was hoarse, but he did not relent. If anything, it made him more determined to punish her.

"Are you thinking of him again, you bitch?" he growled murderously.

"N-no!" she gasped, struggling to speak through the pain. "No, I was thinking of you, I promise. Please. It's just your eyes -"

The shockwaves stopped searing through her as he stopped thrusting to peer into her face, frowning, looking for signs of deception, promising her hell if she dared lie. "What about my eyes?"

"Um, they're ... beautiful," she mumbled, relieved to be free of the pain for a second.

He tossed his head back and laughed, making her shake with him. "Beautiful? That's all you could come up with? Glad you study physics and not poetry, my pet. Mortals, I fucking swear."

Okay, this was too much. This man abducted her, hurt her, raped her, and now insulted her word choice.

"Hey," she snarled. "I'm just trying to express myself. What do you want from me? Do you want me to be honest or do you want me to be quiet? Do you want me to grovel at your feet or do you want me to fight so you can break me more? I swear to God, I will die before I let you talk to me this -"

He cut her off with a kiss, slow and languorous but filled with a deep need. "Shut up, whore. I want everything from you. Everything you said and then more. I want your heart and your soul, your every waking thought and your nightmares. Oh, yes, you will be having nightmares about me. I will make sure of it." As he said it, he began moving inside her again, but this time more slowly. He was no longer shocking her. In its place, she felt light tingles of electricity, teasing her, exciting her. But it still hurt. He had torn her insides and made her bleed and he continued to thrust inside her mercilessly.

She kissed him back, more deeply than he had kissed her, to avoid screaming from the pain. With every thrust, she groaned a little into his mouth, with every painful move, she tugged on his lips harder. He made a pleased noise against her mouth as he began thrusting into her in earnest, drawing tears from her eyes. One hand grabbed her head as if he was afraid that she would break the kiss, and another snaked down to her pussy. When his finger touched her little nub, she screamed as the tingles spread through her clit to her labia. She wanted to beg him to be gentle, wanted to tell him she was too sensitive, but he wouldn't let her mouth go, his tongue now moving in tandem with his cock and his fingers. There was too much pain, too much pleasure, too many sensations. As he let loose another wave of sparks across her clit, she came with a scream. And then she came again. She came so many times that she lost count, aware of nothing but this man's weight atop her and the way he was making her feel.

By the time she was done, eyes glazed over, he was looking at her with a mixture of triumph and annoyance. "Were you thinking of my angelic brother again?"

"No," she admitted. "I wasn't thinking anything at all. Just - how good it felt."

He smirked and, with a grunt, pulled out of her. "Look at me," he ordered, and she did, pinned in place by his commanding gaze. He took her hand and wrapped it around his cock. "Stroke me. Faster. Harder. And don't look away."

Still rendered immobile by his gaze, she complied, never breaking eye contact with him as her hand moved almost automatically. Even with her long, slender fingers, she found it tough to circle his girth. She marvelled at his length and his width, marvelled at the thought that he had been inside her and she had survived. She looked at him, curious and excited and confused. He leaned down to kiss her collarbones, moving up towards her neck, before latching on and biting her, hard. And then he shuddered against her, and she felt warm liquid spurt all over her. Half-surprised, half-disgusted, she realised she was coated in his sperm. This was not her kink. So why had she enjoyed the sensation? Or at least, she enjoyed it until she realised she was still holding on to the thing that had been inside her ass. She struggled to contain her feelings of revulsion lest he punish her again, but saw them mirrored in his eyes.

"I had forgotten how filthy mortals are," he grunted, as he stood up and extended a hand toward her.

Gingerly, she took his hand and allowed herself to be pulled up, only to yell as he scooped her up in his arms again.

"No!" She yelled. "No! Please, stop! Not again!"

Laughing, he carried her to the sea and dropped her in the water again, this time letting her struggle without holding her down. "Clean yourself up, Pet. You want to please your Lord, don't you?"

Lord. There, that word again. The misogynistic asshole, treating her like his ... thing. Like an object. Something tugged inside her, something that felt an awful lot like heartbreak and disappointment. For a few minutes, when he had taken her, she felt deeply connected with him, in a way she never had been before with anyone. As he had kissed her fervently and she'd kissed him back, she allowed herself, for a second, to imagine that this was consensual, that they were equals. Obviously, that was not true.

Despite herself, she felt tears stinging her eyes. Lakir could probably read everything on her face, because his old, cruel grin was back. "Did the whore forget her place? Oh, dear, we can't have that now, can we? I think I'll need to start calling you Pet now, just to ensure you don't get the wrong idea about what you are to me."

She gritted her teeth and refused to look at him, steeling herself to not react. She felt his kick again, harder than last time, knocking the wind out of her.

"I just gave you something, Pet," he growled. "A new name. What do you say?"

"Th-thank you, my Lord," she forced herself to say. Her words did not convince either of them.

"Still feisty, still unbroken, I see." His eyes were glinting dangerously. "Oh, I'm going to have so much fun with you, aren't I, Pet?"

She glared back at him, hatred and antagonism shone clearly on her face. "Yes, my Lord."

Instead of getting angry, he just chuckled as he roughly dragged her out of the water by the hair while she sputtered furiously. "That's a good pet. Now sleep."

"Here?" She asked. There was nothing around. No tent, no fire, no blanket, nothing. Just the coarse sand underneath the depthless skies.

"Don't worry, it's temporary. I'll have a nice little kennel built for you when we get back."

When they got back. Back to their village, back where her grandparents were probably staying up all night, knowing the cops wouldn't help them, that no one would. Were the Devs with them? Was Taras? Her first love, who had so readily fallen into place while his brother made her his sex slave and brood mare. She would see him again. She didn't know how she felt about that.

And so, she curled up on the sand, shivering from the cold and Lakir's unspoken promises of the things to come, and slept.