Married to the alpha king, pleasured by his son

~Storme~

My hand slowly crept to my inner thighs as I imagined my mystery man touching me, and whispering sweet nothings into my ear. My other hand found my nipples and started to rub on it, pausing occasionally to pinch it a little harder.

"Mmhm" I moaned, allowing my other hand to gently flick around my pea.

The pleasure that I got from that singular action was out of this world. My body bucked as I applied more pressure, my juices aiding in non-friction movements.

I was supposed to be a virgin before I officially became mated to anyone, but my hyperactive sexual libido was a problem for me. Ever since I turned sixteen, I'd always been on heat most of the time. And mine comes without warning.

Since I was to be a virgin, I found a way around everything. The problem was the hole, right? So, I didn't bother with it. All those years, I'd played around with myself long enough to realize that all I needed to quench my sexual appetite was not in the hole.

But rubbing around it right now wasn't just enough. I needed more pressure. I slipped my hand out of my panties and grabbed a comfort pillow close to me. Setting the pillow down and supporting it with my duvet, I mounted it.

Now this was way better.

I started to rock myself back and forth on it, slowly at first, before increasing my tempo. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as the first wave of pleasure started to hit me. I bit back a moan, not wanting the rest of the house to know what was going on with me.

I'd almost gotten there when a knock sounded on my door. A series of curses flew out of my mouth as I jumped off the pillow and wore my clothes back.

There was no other way to define wrong timing than this. Of all the time that this person could have knocked, it had to be when I was almost close.

The knock came again, and this time, my stepbrother's voice rang out. "I know you're in there, Storme. Open up"

Of all the worst people to knock, it had to be Adan, my perverted stepbrother. Ever since my father got married to his mother and they started to live with us, Adan had tried in so many ways to get down with me.

But the fact that I am hypersexual doesn't mean that I'll go for anything that has a dangling flesh in between their legs.

I opened the door and he immediately pushed himself inside. His expression changed immediately he got in. He sniffed the air, then gave me a sleazy look.

"It smells like sex and arousal in here. Have you been doing grownup things by yourself to yourself, Storme?"

Shit.

Of course, he could smell a she-wolf's arousal. And I bet that mine was as heavy as it could be.

"That's none of your business, Adan." I snapped. "What do you want?"

"Why don't you let me show you how a real man handles a woman? Let me initiate you into the cult of womanhood. You just turned eighteen and you're yet to have a taste of sex."

I didn't like the expression on his face. That was the expression he always had whenever he thought of forcing himself on me. I moved back, a warning glint on my face. "Back off, Adan."

He cackled and ran his tongue around his lips in a disgusting manner. The lust in his eyes made my stomach churn. He was like a crazed dog who was bent on mating a newly discovered female counterpart. With the lewd smile still on his face, he took two steps towards me.

I felt around my bedside drawer and my hands fell on a mug. I grabbed it immediately, bringing it up to my face and brandishing it at Adan.

He stopped, his gaze moving from the mug to my face. He must have felt like that was a joke because there was no way a mug could hurt him. But I just needed something to keep him away from me.

"Is that supposed to stop me?" he asked mockingly.

Keeping up with my hard front, my fingers tightened around the mug. "Maybe not. But I bet that a splinter of glass from this can incapacitate you for weeks if I use it on your balls. Do you wanna try?"

He contemplated for some seconds and maybe decided that it wasn't worth it after all. He took a step back, raising his hands in surrender. "Your father is asking for you"

I frowned. That was new. The last time that my father had called for me was a couple of months back, and it wasn't for anything pleasant. He had decided that it was the perfect night to beat me up for being the evil child who killed his wife during birth.

My father, alpha Morgan, might be the alpha of Normadic Wolves, but I was more of a servant than an alpha's daughter. He had abhorred me for as long as I could remember, hitting me for the tiniest reason he could find. It only got worse when he got married again to Adan's mother.

There were times that I'd felt like running away somewhere far, but I wasn't sure if I'd be able to survive on my own. My wolf was dormant so I didn't think I was better equipped to take on any external threat if need be.

So, I just endured the abuse.

"Why does he want to see me? Is there a problem?" I asked Adan.

He shrugged. "I have no idea. But he looks really pissed though. Looks like you did something to make him mad." His eyes slid to my body, "I could try to get you out of trouble though, if only you'd let me have what I want"

"Get out," I gritted out.

He shrugged and walked out of the room after giving me a long look. After calming myself down, I went downstairs. My father sat on a sofa with a newspaper in his hands. He didn't even look up or try to acknowledge my presence.

"You sent for me, Father," I said, my head bowed.

Without throwing me a second glance, he said, "Pack your things. You'll be taken to the Castillo Tribe as King Marcellus' bride tomorrow."

I gasped. He wants to give me out to that old geezer who is even older than him? A man who is very close to his grave?

"What do you mean getting married? And to alpha King Marcellus?" I asked alarmed. "I can't get married to that notorious alpha king!"

"Don't you forget that I'm not just your father, but also your alpha. You will obey me!" my father growled, slamming his hands hard on the table. His eyes looked up at me finally and I wished that they hadn't. They were red and fiery, making me almost piss in my pants.

"What did I ever do to you? Why have you always been so hostile to me?" I blurted out, tears gathering in my eyes.

"You want to know?" he asked, stalking towards me, the disgust and fury in his expression unmistakable. "You want to know why the sight of you disgusts me?"

I nodded, the tears brimming in my eyes and threatening to make a flood.

"It's because you're the devil's offspring. If not for your existence my mate would still be here by my side," He yelled, his fists clenching and unclenching.

I gasped, my breaths coming in short sobs. The tears that I'd been trying to hold in poured recklessly down my cheeks. I grabbed my father's legs, trying to plead for his mercy.

The next thing I knew was his free leg connecting with my chest. The force of his kick made me fly across the room. I groaned, curling myself up in a ball while trying to get used to the pain.

"Do not ever touch me with those evil hands of yours," he said coldly, his voice devoid of any emotion before he walked away.

I don't know how long I was curled up there, my heart breaking all over again at my father's words. There was nothing else for me here. What else could I do if my own father hated the sight of me?

"I see that you're about to be the bride of that tyrant alpha king. You know, I've always heard that he has a fetish for virgins"

I could barely see through my tears as I looked up at the owner of the taunting voice in front of me. The crazed look was back in his eyes as he bent to eye level with me.

"Adan...please...I can't get married to king Marcellus. He's ruthless. Please help me talk to your mother. She'll listen to you"

His gaze softened and for a moment, I thought that he had garnered a bit of sympathy for me. But just as quickly as it came, the look was replaced with a hungry gaze.

"Storme," he drawled, "I'm not concerned about you getting married to some old prick. I'm more concerned about having you first before any other person." His hands grabbed my shoulders. "I think your father already left the house. There's no one around. So, don't try to fight this. I'll be in and out before you know it. When I'm satisfied with you, then I might think of talking to my mother to rescind her decision."

I shook my head, dread filling me.

No way.

"I'd rather die than let you put your filthy hands on me, Adan. You're my brother!"

"Nope," he shook his head. "Stepbrother. Don't misuse the two words. And, you don't really have a say in this. I want you, and I'll have you"

With that, he lunged for me and caught my feet. I scrambled away, trying to run towards the door. Before I could open it, his hands found my waist and pulled me back to him, grunting as he did so.

"Just surrender, Storme, and this will be over before you know it."

The sound of tears reached my ears and I gasped in horror when I saw that he had torn my dress, leaving me in my underwear. Mustering all the strength that I could gather, I kicked him in his nuts.

His screams rang throughout the house as he stumbled back, cradling his sacks. Taking advantage of the situation, I pushed him down and mounted him, my hands pulling his hair. I'd landed a blow on his face and was about to land another when the door opened and our parents walked in.

"What in hell is going on here!" my stepmother yelled.

Adan quickly pushed me away from him and put on the façade of an innocent person. "She tried to seduce me." He said, pointing an accusing finger at me, "She tried to rape me!"

~Storme~

"She's been crawling into my bed every night, trying to seduce me. And while I was trying to leave the house a few minutes ago, she grabbed me and started to kiss me. I tried to stop her but I didn't want to hurt her. She was too determined to have me in her bed by hook or crook." Adan continued, spewing heavy lies effortlessly.

My jaw dropped at the blatant accusation that danced around the room. I shook my head frantically, knowing what would happen if I didn't dispute the accusation.

"That's a lie!" I cried, "He tried to force himself on me. He was the one who tried to rape me!"

I think I saw the colorful stars dancing around in my vision before I felt the pain that swished through me. I grabbed my cheeks, trying to douse the hotness that came with my stepmother's slap.

"Are you trying to call my son a bad person?" My stepmother snarled, her eyes a fiery furnace.

"But it's true. He's been trying to force himself on me ever since you-"

Another heavy slap sent me reeling and grabbing the air for anything to steady myself. I managed to open eyes which I was sure was going to turn black in a few hours, and saw my father hovering over me.

"You're such a disgrace to this family, and this Pack, Storme." He spat, irritation lining his tone. "It isn't enough that you killed my mate, or that you decided to have a dormant and useless wolf; you've also decided to be promiscuous to the extent of trying to force yourself on your brother?"

I blinked back tears, "I didn't do it, Father. Why won't you believe me?"

He eyed me warily. "Only a fool will believe you, Storme. You'll spend some time in the dungeon to think about your actions while we wait for your husband."

****************************************************

The cold stone floor of the dungeon bit into my skin, leeching away the warmth from my bones. I lay there, curled up, shivering, as the damp air clawed at my throat. My tears had dried hours ago, leaving only a dull ache. No more tears. What was the point? No one would hear me. No one would care.

The darkness was suffocating, pressing in on me from all sides. I stared up at the ceiling, my body too exhausted to move, my mind too numb to do anything but think.

No one understood how an alpha's daughter could be so weak and incomplete. I was broken in their eyes. Even as a child, I had seen the way my father looked at me with disappointment, as if I had failed him just by existing.

Perhaps that was why he had sold me to that wretched old Alpha King Marcellus. The mere thought of him made my stomach twist in revulsion. I had never met him, but his reputation was enough to fill me with dread. He was old, cruel, violent, and a tyrant among alphas. And I was to be his bride.

I let out a hollow laugh, though it was more of a sob.

Bride.

Was that even the right word for what I was? I was nothing more than a bargaining chip, something to be traded for power and alliances.

I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to break free.

As the hours dragged on, I lost all sense of time. I had no idea how long I had been down here. And then, just as I began to drift into a restless, haunted sleep, I heard footsteps.

The door to my cell creaked open, and two guards stood there, their faces blank. "Get up," one of them barked.

I was too weak to resist. They hauled me to my feet, and my legs wobbled beneath me. My body was sore, my skin bruised from the rough floor as they dragged me up.

When I reached the sitting room, my stepmother was waiting for me. Her lips widened into a smile as she looked me up and down, her eyes gleaming with disdain.

"Look at you," she sneered. "Such a mess. But you don't have to worry. I'll make you very presentable for your husband. It's time you left this house already."

My husband.

The word felt like poison in my mouth.

Without another word, she gestured to one of the servants, who brought out a chair. They sat me down, and my stepmother began to work, covering my bruises and scars with layers and layers of makeup.

"You should be grateful, Storme," she said as she powdered my face, "At least someone is willing to take you. After all, who would want a girl with a dormant wolf?"

I bit my lip, swallowing the retort in my throat. There was no need to reply her.

When she was done, she stepped back and smiled, satisfied with her work. "There. Almost buyable." She gestured to one of the guards on standby. "Take her to meet her husband immediately."

"What? He's already here?" I asked, suddenly finding my voice.

"Did you think that I cared enough for you to waste my time trying to cover your scars?" she taunted.

Of course. But I hadn't expected it to be so soon.

"Can I at least say goodbye to my father?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes at me. "Your father doesn't want anything to do with you, Storme. He's happy to sell you off. He's content with my son and I. So, go and meet your old husband, and don't come back here ever again."

She gestured to the guards, and they took me again, leading me outside, where a car awaited. I was shoved inside. Two tight-faced men sat at the back, and I knew better than to try to engage them in any conversation.

We rode in silence, and when we arrived at Alpha King Marcellus's estate, the guards led me to the main hall, where he was waiting. The moment I saw him, my blood ran cold. He looked like he was in his late sixties, and had a pot belly that barely held in the shirt that he had tucked into his trousers. His eyes lingered on me sultrily, making my skin crawl.

"Prepare and bring her to my room immediately," he said.

And that was it. No introductions, no preliminaries, just straight to the point. Soon enough, maids were fussing over my dress and hair. When they were done, they took me to King Marcellus's room.

All the years that I'd spent obsessing about how it would be when I finally lost my V-card to my mate didn't prepare me for this. It certainly didn't prepare me for laying it down to a man who I found terribly unattractive and old.

As soon as we were alone, I gathered what little courage I had left. "King Marcellus," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Please... I don't... I'm not ready for this."

He turned to me, his eyes narrowing. "Not ready?"

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to speak. "I'm... I'm a virgin. I've never been with anyone. Please, I just... I need time."

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, without warning, he grabbed me by the arm, yanking me close. "Time?" he growled, his garlic-filled breath washing over my face. "You think you get to make demands of me? You belong to me now. Your body, your soul, I've paid for you. Your father willingly sold you to me."

I flinched, terror coursing through me. "Please-"

But he didn't listen. His grip tightened, and he pushed me down onto the bed. I tried to fight, tried to resist, but he was too strong. He tore at my clothes, and I felt a scream rising in my throat, but it was trapped behind the choking sobs that threatened to spill out.

"Stop," I begged, my voice breaking. "Please...stop!"

But he didn't. He silenced my cries with his body, overpowering me, and the pain that followed was unbearable. Punches landed on my stomach, making me gasp for breath.

I couldn't breathe for a while. It felt as if my lungs had been broken and I couldn't get oxygen up there.

Not minding my plight, King Marcellus yanked my legs apart and barged into my hymen, tearing his way in without mercy. I cried out in pain but I was met with another blinding slap. He continued to force his way in until he was done violating me.

When it was over, I lay there, broken and numb, my body trembling uncontrollably. He stood, adjusting his clothes, looking down at me with utmost satisfaction. I could see the bloodstains on his trousers as he adjusted them.

My innocence, taken away in the blink if an eye. Just like that.

Tears blurred my vision, but I couldn't bring myself to wipe them away. I felt hollow, empty. I had nothing left.

"Is anyone out there?" he called, and two men entered the room, their faces blank.

"Take her to the dungeon," King Marcellus ordered, his voice cold and uncaring. "Let her think about what happens to disobedient brides."

The guards grabbed me, pulling me to my feet. I was too weak to resist, too shattered to care. They dragged me back through the halls, down the stairs, and threw me into another cell.

This cell was no different from the one my father had condemned me to. It was cold, dark, and merciless. I collapsed onto the floor, my body aching. The pain was unbearable, but it wasn't just the physical pain. It was the knowledge that I was nothing. I had no wolf. No power. No future. I'd been doomed.

~Storme~

I had lost track of the days I spent in the dungeon. My body ached from the cold, and my stomach was empty from the little food they gave me. I had fallen from an alpha's daughter to a prisoner in a place that was more a grave than a room. My body trembled, both from the cold and the horror that had become my life.

King Marcellus had thrown me down here like I was nothing, his punishment for my unwillingness to submit on that first terrible night. I had been naïve to hope that he might show mercy. But mercy was not something men like Marcellus possessed. He had taken from me, broken through me, and now he had left me here to rot.

When the guards finally came to release me, my first instinct was disbelief. I was released with orders, barked at with as little care as if I were a dog.

"Wash up," the guard said. "The alpha wants you to prepare his food, and it better be perfect."

My throat was so dry that I couldn't respond even if I had the strength. They left me in a small, dim room with a basin of water and a ragged towel, my clothing clinging to my bruised skin. I scrubbed the dirt from my body as best I could, but the feeling of filth lingered.

My reflection in the cracked mirror didn't even look like me. Pale skin, hollow cheeks, and haunted eyes. I didn't recognize the girl staring back at me.

After washing, I dressed in the plain, rough clothes that had been left for me and searched for the kitchen. It was bustling, but the servants didn't pay me any attention as I moved about, gathering what I needed to prepare King Marcellus's meal.

I worked in a trance, my hands moving mechanically as I chopped, stirred, and seasoned. Every movement was calculated and careful, ensuring that nothing would be out of place. I couldn't afford any mistakes.

When the food was ready, I arranged it neatly on a tray and lifted it. My steps were very cautious as I made my way down the long corridor toward King Marcellus's room. But then, just as I turned the corner, it happened.

I didn't see him coming. I didn't notice the figure until it was too late. I collided with someone; a solid, warm, rocky body that sent the tray tumbling from my hands. The sound of the plates crashing to the floor was deafening, and I gasped, stumbling backward.

"No!" I cried, dropping to my knees to pick up the mess, my hands shaking. King Marcellus would kill me for this. "I'm so sorry!" I blurted out, my voice trembling as I scrambled to gather the broken plates and spilled food.

"I should be the one apologizing," a deep voice replied, smooth as velvet.

I froze, my hand hovering over a broken plate, as the man knelt beside me. I looked up, and the breath caught in my throat.

He was the most handsome man I had ever seen. Dangerously and sinfully handsome. His dirty blonde hair fell in long waves around his shoulders, and his deep hazy eyes seemed to burn with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. His skin was tanned, his lips full, and as we knelt there, our hands reached for the same plate at the same time.

Our fingers touched.

It was like a jolt of electricity shot through my body. My heart hammered in my chest, my skin tingling where his fingers had brushed mine.

I looked up at him, and he was already staring at me, his gaze locked onto mine. Time seemed to slow as we knelt there, neither of us moving, neither of us able to tear our eyes away from the other.

I didn't understand what was happening. I couldn't think. I could barely breathe. The air between us crackled with something that I couldn't explain, something that made my skin flush and my heart race. Just like the feelings I get whenever I hump my pillow.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, his voice sending shivers down my spine.

I nodded, but the words wouldn't come. I couldn't explain why, but for the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn't afraid. I wasn't thinking about King Marcellus, or the dungeon, or the pain.

All I could think about was the man in front of me, the warmth of his hand as it lingered on mine, the way his eyes seemed to see right through me, the way I suddenly wanted to feel how good his weight on me would feel.

But then, reality crashed back in, and I remembered where I was and who I was. I was a prisoner in King Marcellus's home, and I couldn't afford to be distracted, not now.

My cheeks burned as I pulled my hand away, breaking the spell. I couldn't believe I had allowed myself to forget, even for a moment, the danger I was in.

"I-I'm sorry," I stammered as I hurried to gather the ruined food. "I have to-I have to make it again. I-"

"Wait," he said, his voice gentle. "There's no need to rush."

I shook my head, my heart still racing, but this time it wasn't from the touch of his hand. It was from fear. "I can't. King Marcellus is waiting. He'll be furious if I don't bring it quickly."

Something flickered in his eyes at the mention of Marcellus's name. His expression darkened, just for a moment, before softening again. "Let me help you," he said, reaching for one of the broken plates.

"No," I said quickly, standing up and stepping back. "It's my fault. I'll fix it."

He stood as well, towering over me, his presence commanding and yet not threatening. His eyes softened as he looked at me, and for a moment, I could almost believe he cared.

I don't know how or when, but our faces were suddenly so close...so close that it would only take a slight movement for our lips to touch. And I desperately wanted to find out how those lips tasted.

I couldn't meet his eyes. I couldn't stand there any longer, feeling the weight of his gaze, the strange pull between us. It was too much. Too confusing. My mind was already a mess, and now this? I didn't know how to handle it.

"I have to go," I muttered, backing away. "I have to... prepare the food again."

Without waiting for a response, I turned and hurried back down the hallway, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn't look back. I couldn't.

As I rushed to the kitchen to start over, I couldn't shake the memory of his touch, the warmth of his skin against mine.

Who was he?

It didn't matter. I couldn't allow myself to think about him. I had more pressing matters to deal with. I had to survive King Marcellus first.

But even as I tried to push the memory of him aside, my heart refused to settle. Something had shifted in me in that brief, electric moment. Something I couldn't ignore, no matter how hard I tried.

This was scarier than King Marcellus. This feeling stirring inside of me... feelings I had no right to feel.

But there was one thing that I was sure of though. These feelings would either make or mar me, and I was starting to think that I really wanted to get burned by it.