Broken Bride

I reach out and take her chin in my fingers. Again, I marvel at how delicate she is. She’s fragile, and I have to mute my most immediate impulses.

Or do I?

I could wait for her inevitable disobedience. I could take a soft approach and let her deserve what happens to her. Or I could teach her the most important lesson anyone in my household can learn: it doesn’t matter what you deserve. I own you.

“On your knees, girl.”

She blushes bright red, but does as she is told, sinking down into position at my feet. I can see her fingers trembling as she tries to fold her hands to hide her fear.

I have to punish her. If I don’t, she will think that speaking out against me works, and Bobby will think my rule of law is applied unevenly. Neither can be seen to be true.

“Open your mouth.”

She obeys that order too, mostly because she has no idea what is coming. I unzip my pants and push the head of my cock into her mouth, filling her up in one rough stroke which goes all the way to the back of her tongue. I watch her eyes widen at the unexpected rough treatment.

She has been a sheltered little princess right up until this moment. I might have been rough with her when she lost her virginity, but that was a different context, effectively an entirely different world.

* * *

Tilly

He’s fucking my mouth rough and hard. I gasp, gag, and spit to keep breathing. His big, strong, hands are on the back of my head, keeping me in place as he uses me over and over again, every thrust a new carnal chastisement.

I make wailing warbling sounds which come out almost comical around the thickness of his cock. My protests are useless and do nothing. Angelo holds me down on his cock, keeping my mouth too full to talk as he delivers a harsh lecture.

“What did you expect, little girl? That you would be above the rules of this house? That your punishments would be any less intense? Or that I would moderate my cruelty for you?”

This is not how it was when he took my virginity. This is designed to humiliate me. This is designed to make me feel small and lost and obedient.

It is working. He fucks my mouth until he fills me with spurting hot jets of semen, splashing over my tongue and sliding down my throat. Then he lets me go. I slump backward, jaw aching, pride wounded. He has used me as casually as a fleshlight.

“I hate you,” I gasp.

“Good,” he replies. “Behave yourself.”

He turns away and leaves me on my knees, wiping off come and swallowing the last of his taste down my punished throat.

* * *

Angelo

I step into my office. The boys are obviously aware of what just happened to Tilly. The sounds of a brat having her mouth punished are universally understood, especially to these two who have seen and heard far worse.

“I’m going to see if she’s okay,” Mark says.

“Don’t you dare,” I growl at Mark. He wants to go coddle her, but there has been enough of that. Tilly needs to behave the way my boys do. She needs to be able to process her punishments on her own. I didn’t hurt her. I shamed her. She’ll be fine.

“Women aren't men, Angelo,” Mark says.

“Some of them are,” Bobby interjects.

We both ignore Bobby. Mark has been shining his armor since Tilly arrived, in preparation of playing the proverbial white knight. If he is finally ready to joust, then so am I.

“Please, enlighten me further,” I cross my arms over my chest and wait for Mark to turn the hole he’s digging himself into a grave.

“You’ll break her. And not in the way you think is fun. You’ll just break her.”

“I never picked you for a sexist, Mark.”

“It’s not sexist to acknowledge that women are…”

“Weaker,” Bobby interjects again, a broad grin spreading across his devilish face.

“Physically more delicate, and more emotional, and…”

I restrain a smile as Mark continues to denigrate the strength of women by way of trying to defend them. He doesn’t know Tilly as I do. He doesn’t know what she is capable of withstanding, or what she deserves.

“What if I told you that not only do you not know Tilly, you don’t actually care about her either?”

“What!? Of course I care.”

“No. You just want to defend someone, Mark. You want to be the good guy. It’s your fetish.”

“Is that such a bad thing? Wanting to be the good guy?”

“When you turn everyone around you into a prop in your fantasy, yes.”

We can all hear Tilly sobbing to herself. She must still be kneeling on the floor. I smile to myself. She thinks that will work. She’s almost right. Mark is practically coming out of his skin to save his little damsel in distress.