The Ritual

Her wide eyes meet mine, and she swallows. But she only hesitates for a second before she uses the wall as support and pushes her thong down her still shaking legs. I walk over to her, and she hands them over, her cheeks red.

I turn back to Matt. “You wanted a taste.” It took some time, but that was all Blakely and I had in the hospital room. I got her to tell me every little second of detail that happened while he had her. “I thought I’d oblige. Consider it your last meal.” I shove her cum-covered underwear into his mouth. And then slap my hand over it while Tyson rips off some duct tape from the roll and places multiple pieces over his face when I remove my hand.

Matt’s body starts convulsing as if he’s fighting not to throw up and choke on his own vomit.

I grip his face and force him to look up at me. “I fucked that sweet cunt thirty minutes ago and came inside it.” I give him a chilling smile at the horror in his wide eyes. “In case you were wondering why they’re so wet.”

His face goes red with rage while he glares up at me.

I told my wife that no one would ever hear or watch me fuck her, and I meant every word. But I never promised that another man wouldn’t taste my cum out of her cunt, smeared on her underwear. It’s why I bit her neck and slapped her inner thigh in the car. I wanted to show her off to him. Show what I have that he’ll never get. No matter what he does. I needed to remind him that I fucking own him as much as he wishes he owned her. I could have come in a cup and forced him to swallow it, but this was sweeter. Thinking he was getting her but not without me—my wife and I are a team. A Lord and a Lady.

I slap the side of his face, making him flinch. “I’ll see you soon.”

With that, I turn and grab Blake’s hand and exit the room with Tyson behind us. “When do you want him delivered?” he asks, after locking the door.

I look at my wife and see her cheeks flushed and eyes on the floor, knowing that I have some time to make up with her. “I’ll make it for Sunday night.” It’s Thursday, so that gives me the rest of the week and all weekend to spend at home alone with my wife, reminding her that she belongs to me. Till death do us part.

BLAKELY

SUNDAY NIGHT, I sit on the couch inside of the office at the cathedral. Ryat silently sits at the desk when a soft knock comes on the door.

“Come in,” Ryat calls out.

I look up from the couch to see Tyson enter. I don’t know why I expected him to be dressed in his cloak and mask, but he’s not. Instead, he wears a pair of black jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt. His dark hair just as unkept as usual. “He’s ready.”

Ryat nods. “Thanks. I’ll be right there.”

Tyson looks at me, and I have a feeling he’s challenging me. This is one of the times when I’m going to have to put my feelings to the side for my husband. Exiting, he shuts the door behind him.

Silence lingers among us, and I look down at my wedding ring when Ryat talks. “Blake, you don’t have to—”

“I’m staying,” I interrupt him, meeting his stare.

His lips thin, but he nods once. “I just need a minute.” He goes back to typing away on his phone.

There’s another knock, and Ryat slams his cell down with a sigh. “What?” he snaps.

The door opens, and my father steps inside, closing it behind him. I stand. “I should go …”

“Wait!” He holds out his hands in surrender.

I stop, dropping my eyes to the floor. I haven’t spoken to him since I was in the hospital. He hasn’t even tried to call or text me. I’m not sure if that’s on his part or if Ryat blocked him from my cell. At this point, I don’t even care to ask. “I’d rather not,” I state and walk past him. But just as I grab the door handle, I pause and turn back around. My husband sits at the desk, his fingers interlocked behind his head, relaxing back in his chair, eyes on mine. My father, however, looks like a wounded puppy, staring at the floor. “I need to know something.”

“Anything.” His eyes meet mine, and he takes a step toward me.

“Matt told me that a Lord can’t choose any woman. That they have to come from a list.”

He swallows nervously but nods his head once and whispers, “That’s true.”

I let out a rough laugh that makes him flinch. “You were whoring me out?” I snap, thinking that Matt had lied to me. But nope. It was the fucking truth! “That’s what a chosen is, Father—a whore!” I didn’t understand it then. Hell, I still don’t a hundred percent, but it’s obvious these parents loan these women out to the Lords to serve them for their devotion. We’re a prize. An offer of servitude. What if I’m having daughters? I will never allow this to happen to them! Or sons? I sure as fuck wouldn’t want our sons to have to take a chosen. Fuck, I don’t even know what all happened to Tyson’s, but I know she wasn’t the first one to die.