Mark As My Whore

I made a mental note of the dead bodies that surrounded the premises as I was taken inside the palace.

There must have been a mistake, Fredrick would never live like this.

He was a strong, cold man at times but he was a good person.

A person of passion; so I kept telling myself.

I was taken into the throne room.

It was a massive hall draped in red curtains and dazzling black marble floors.

It was beautiful.

I only hoped it wouldn't be the place where my life would be taken yet again by the man whom I loved so dearly.

Just as that thought came to mind, I saw him, he was sitting on the throne in front of the hall.

He wore a black button-down silky shirt with pants just as dark, his hair had gotten longer, and his lips were fuller.

His eyes, however, were not foreign.

I had looked into those eyes so many times, I had all the little blue specs memorized.

He was handsome but cold and power radiated from him so deeply that it sent a shiver across my spine.

I wanted to know the man in front of me; I wanted to love him, but I was no fool; he was different, Darker, stronger, and colder.

Fredrick stood up and made his way towards me.

If I could breathe, I would have held my breath, he was so gorgeous but yet so cruel.

Surely made by the devil himself.

He stood only a few inches away from me, looking down at my face.

I watched him as he scanned all my features.

Only when they made their way back to my eyes, did he speak.

"Undress ", he demanded.

Confusion lined my eyes as I looked into his beautiful pair of blue eyes.

I thought I had misheard him.

One wouldn't murder their lover, and 120 years later, when the body has become a walking dead, he demands they take their clothes off upon first arrival.

"I won't tell you again, Molly" he calmly said.

Fire and courage flooded my body.

"You - you murdered me, Fredrick", I whispered; looking into his eyes for any sign of regret.

Fredrick's hand collided with my cheek, slapping me so hard that I doubled over to the other side.

I was in such a state of shock with what just happened, it took me a minute to process everything.

I slowly rose to my feet and looked him in the eyes.

His beautiful eyes showed no reaction, no emotion, he was dead.

He was a monster.

I raised my hand to slap him back, but I instantly found my arm pinned behind my back.

Fredrick turned me away from him, forcing me to look at all the soldiers and townspeople who had made their way into the hall.

None of them said a word, all of them were just as dead in the eyes as him.

I felt Fredrick's lips touch my neck, and I froze.

He skimmed his way up to my ear, where he placed little kisses and bits of my skin that he could reach with them.

My emotions went into overdrive.

This is the Fredrick I know.

The sweet and loving one, the one who touches me with ease, grace, and love; however, one look into the crowd brought me back to reality.

This was not a loving act, this was horror.

Fredrick's hand made contact with my waist and I tried to pull out of his grasp.

He ripped the button off my jeans, and I felt a shutter shake my body.

He wouldn't do this, not here.

Not in front of all these people, not after he's murdered me.

My jeans were dragged over my ass and rested on my ankles, I screamed at him to stop and for someone to stop him, but no one moved.

My panties were next to be pulled down, and suddenly, I wished I could crawl back into the grave where I came from only a few days ago.

I tried to use my hair to hide my embarrassment in front of these strangers, but I couldn't hide the misery in my heart.

My shirt was ripped off next and my breasts sprung free from the confinements.

My nipples instantly hardened as the sharp air lightly kissed them.

I begged Fredrick one last time to stop this insanity.

"Fredrick, we were meant to be married; I loved you more than anything; please stop this," I cried.

I heard the zipper of his jeans go down and my hands made a loud smack on the floor after he tossed me down.

I tried to crawl away, but my efforts failed.

Fredrick's hand gripped my thigh as the other held the middle of my back down, positioning my face on the ground and my ass in the air.

I felt his cock skim the outside of my pussy; although I was shocked, he was preparing himself for what was to come.

As much as I hated this man and the world for what was happening to me, my hips naturally rose to him.

I screamed as his cock penetrated me, stretching my walls out once again.

He buried himself deep inside me and then stopped.

"I claim this woman as my royal whore!

Let this demonstration mark the official ceremony!

Anyone who touches her after I fuck her would be put to death", he bellowed to the crowd.

He fuck me as if I was a doll for entertainment, in different styles and positions.

I wish I could die again, right here and right now.

Shame is what I feel right now, with him enjoying himself and the crowd-watching.