He smiled dangerously as he leaned against the firmly locked door, relishing in her reaction. She stood in the middle of his dark, dingy bedroom in the white lace and taffetta stage wedding gown, the childish sleeves and bodice accentuating her youth. Her breathing had quickened when he locked the door. She stared fixedly at the ground, skin pale under the doll-like make-up. He watched her small, firm breasts shudder slightly each time she inhaled.
Her fear was so immense, her pride trying to hard to fight it, that he could almost see the struggle in her mind. Violet was small but had the signs of womanhood. Perfect. Such a lovely compensation for all the trouble he had gone to so he could acquire the Baudelaire fortune. Yes, this doll-bride was a lovely addition indeed.
Olaf moved lazily to her side. He extended a yellow-nailed finger and traced the curve of her chin. She was still staring at the floor, so he slapped her sharply. It would not do to have her unresponsive. It would be such a waste a pity, really.
She whimpered slightly as her cheek reddened. Olaf traced his finger further down until he was running the tip of his nail across one small mound of breast, peeking slightly above the gown's neckline. Soft, like a petal, and so firm and young.
"My pretty girl... you must have had a tiring day," he leaned down to whisper in her ear. He could practically feel the heat emanating from her rosy skin. In a few moments he would feel every inch of it. But not yet, he thought. Best to savour every moment of my victory.
She remained mute. But her eyes began to glisten with moisture. She didn't move. He watched and waited, giving her a chance to answer. But when she continued not to respond, Olaf's patience began to run out. She was at his mercy and would learn to obey him. In every way.
The thought made his need more urgent. He never had had such a young and fresh girl in his control before. In his youth he had watched girls jealously as they flaunted their beauty and showed him their disdain. He had wanted to slap a foul hand over their pouting pink lips and pin them to the floor.
But this one, this one was his wife. He needed to be more careful, so he could enjoy her for a long time. But as her silence lengthened, Olaf's desire turned to anger.
In one movement, he took out a rusty knife from the inside of his boot. That provoked a reaction alright. Violet shrieked and stood rooted to the spot in fear when he brought the dagger down sharply towards her. Her fear was delicious as the knife cut the dress away; one long slit full down the front. Stray bits of lace fluttered down as Olaf threw the knife down with a clatter and pulled the ripped sleeves down her arms.
"I will not be made a fool of, brat. You will answer me when I speak to you!"
The ripped dress was bunched around Violet's waist. He grabbed her with both hands, by her arms, and shook her hard. Her pert breasts bounced slightly. Her face was red from fear and exertion now.
He enjoyed this for a moment before he roughly threw her back, onto the damp bed. She fell with a sob-like yell and tried to scramble away. Olaf caught her by the ankle and dragged her back towards him. Then he climbed onto the bed and grabbed the dress, ripping the rest of it off her.
Through bleary eyes Violet looked back at him, her pride still intact. True, she hadn't begged or pleaded. She lay there on the filthy bed, only wearing sheer stockings held up by a white lace garter, being stared at by a man as if she were a meal to devour. Olaf gave her credit for not breaking down. But only for a moment. There were, after all, more pressing matters at hand.
"Pretty Violet... so pretty... all mine," he murmured as he pinned her arms to her sides and planted kisses and licks all over her breasts. Violet's small mews of disgust were like music to his ears.
Olaf slid his hand down her virgin body to the slit between her legs. He was disappointed to find her quite dry down there. But no matter, he thought, as he rubbed his finger up and down. She'll learn to want it sooner or later. She was downright lucky she was in his hands. Expert hands no less, he liked to think.
Violet was moaning in distress now, pushing her hips into the damp bed and as far from his prying fingers as possible. Which isn't much, Olaf thought amusedly, as he had her pinned down tight. Giving her pink nipple a last nip, he leaned towards the floor and picked up a short length of rope.
She released a muffled sob as Olaf pinned her arms over her head and tied her wrists to the rusty headboard with the frayed and dirty thing. Her tears had cut trails in the cheap stage makeup, making her face a beautiful mess.
Assured of a lessening in her struggles, Olaf replaced his hand with his mouth. Violet looked helpless as the tightness of the rope prevented her from inclining her head to see what he was doing.
His nose nudged her folds as his sharp tongue worked. He didn't know what was pleasurable for women; he was only after his own pleasure. He only wanted to invoke the sounds that would feed his own desire.
And feed it they did, Violet's moans of distress now mixed with arousal. He held a knee down in each palm as her hips jerked wildly, her will making her move away from his slavering mouth as her body tried to move towards it.
He didn't know or care that Violet was on the brink of her first orgasm, which was rapidly being forced out of her. Olaf stopped and Violet moaned in an inexplicable mixture of relief and need.
"Time to deflower my blushing bride..." he leered as he unzipped his uncomfortably tight trousers and jerked her legs wide apart. He positioned himself at her tiny entrance and Violet's sobs grew louder as she turned her head from side to side, hoping. Hoping something would prevent this from happening, or that he'd take her before she died of this new tension.
He pushed inside heavily, groaning at her tightness. He moved fast and erratically, gripping her hips as her tightness adjusted to him until he could slam into her young body, delighting in her muffled yelps. The old bed creaked under their movement.
Violet grasped the brittle rope until her knuckles were white and she came, she came from the pain and pleasure, hardly understanding what was happening to her body.
Olaf felt her small body tighten around him and he grunted as he withdrew and spilled himself on her, hands digging into her thighs. When his spasms ended he collapsed onto her, his sweaty face on her trembling chest.
Violet felt the last mew leave her lips as she closed her eyes and almost passed out from the exhaustion of her fear and release.
Olaf lifted himself onto his elbows off her, stripping off his soiled shirt and undressing completely. Smiling smugly he pulled the cover over them both.
He didn't untie her, incase she got any ideas into that head of hers while he was still asleep. His little inventor wife would need some more... breaking in... before he could trust her unbound when he was defenceless.
Olaf grinned as he settled back comfortably. If tonight was any indication of what was to come, it was going to be a process he would gladly, and meticulously, undertake.