Kensley learns of Arthur's plans for her. Non-con smut and some breeding kink
Arthur donned a fresh shirt and tie for dinner. He escorted a well-rested Kensley in a fetching black dress to the dining room for an intimate dinner where the first course was already served. Pulling out her chair, he helped her into her seat as any gentlemen would. And yet, since the moment he had awoken her from her nap, she refused to speak to him. Refused to acknowledge him.
They sat eating in silence through the soup and salad. She wouldn't even make eye contact with him. How long did it take for one to accept their new place in life? He hadn't nearly fought so hard when he was taken from his family and put through the hell that was Kendricks. Americans had no sense of duty.
As she slowly ate her food, he took the opportunity to admire his acquisition. She was beautiful in her form fitting dress. But oh, how he yearned to see how much more so she would become with the glow of impending motherhood lighting her features. Her breasts swollen. Belly round with his child. A visible representation of his virility. His cock twitch at the thought of her pregnant, her heavy breasts bouncing as she rocked her hips on top of him, riding him, her head thrown back in pleasure.
The cook came out of a side door to take their plates. Kensley's head turned, her eyes alight with hope. As she opened her mouth to speak, Ketch interrupted, "It's no use. Helga here is completely loyal and has sign several non-disclosure agreements in return for being paid handsomely. Isn't that right, Helga?"
Helga nodded, removing the dishes and walking back to the kitchen. She returned promptly with two plates filled with roast chicken, vegetables, and herbed potatoes.
Ketch stared at his sullen bride as she stabbed a carrot violently with her fork. "Not much for small talk, are we? The silent treatment is childish, Kensley."
"Fine you want to talk?" She set down her fork. "Why? Why me? What makes me so special that you chose ruin my life?"
Arthur rolled his eyes. "This attitude of yours is going to grow tiresome rather quickly, but to answer your question your grandfather. You just happen to be the granddaughter of a member of the American branch of the Men of Letters. We're as you call it 'super secret spies,'" he drawled.
"No, my grandfather was a traveling salesman. Vacuums. I think."
"I assure you, he was not." Ketch stood, pushing his chair away from the table. "Follow me."
"I'm not done eating." Picking up her fork once more, she busied herself moving food around her plate, her body tensing as he walked towards her.
"Now." He towered over her and held out his hand.
Kensley pushed her chair back and rose. Clasping both hands in front of her, eyes meet his with a silent challenge.
"Stubborn and willful. Not exactly becoming qualities for a wife, pet."
"Kidnapping and coercion aren't becoming either," she snapped back.
"Touche." His lips quirked at the edges ruining the lines of his well-practiced sneer. He called to Helga who entered the room, "We'll take wine in the study now."
He placed his hand on the small of her back and nudged her forward. Stiff backed and head held high, she begrudgingly allowed him to lead her to the other side of the house to rooms she had not yet seen.
Arthur opened double doors to reveal a large office that looked as if it could also double as a museum. Several cabinets with glass doors held ancient volumes flocked tall mullioned windows. Glass display tables held ancient artifacts and scrolls. On a large stand, a dark deteriorating book stood open with foreign hand written symbols and words. He watched her walk amongst his collection, gingerly touching the glass trying to get closer looks at amulets and relics that had once held powers of deities.
Helga discreetly left a bottle of white wine and a pair glasses on a small side table before leaving just as quietly. Arthur poured liberal amounts for the both of them. Kensley stopped and looked at the walls and ceiling all heavily warded with sigils and symbols.
"To keep the bad things out," he said, handing her a glass.
Taking a sip, she asked, "What about the bad things already in?"
He grinned. She was really too clever for her own good. How he wished he could break her and rebuild her. But there wasn't time for that. "You'll find there are much worse things in the world than me, my dear. Believe it or not, I am one of the good guys."
She audibly scoffed and turned towards the large black book, studying its cryptic pages. Grotesque pictures littered the pages.
"A grimoire from a now extinct line of witches." He went on, "I have journals, manuscripts, and books of ancient knowledge of the mystical and supernatural long since downloaded into the Men of Letter servers whose absences are not noticed. Your grandfather had access to the same information as an American member." He went to his desk, retrieved a file, and passed it to her. "Your grandfather's information."
She opened the file greedily, flipping through the pages quickly. "So what happened?" She continued to sip her wine and read the file.
"The entire faction was wiped out by a demon. A knight of Hell actually…"
"Hell is real? Is Heaven?" she asked her curiosity getting the better of her as he knew it would.
He nodded. "Recently, two legacies of the old American line were discovered mucking about, I was charged with locating and assessing the descendants of those member to see if any met our standards."
"And I did?" Disbelief and a touch of pride played across her face.
"No. You are far too good and kind for our line of work." He watched her, crestfallen, taking a large swig of wine. So uncouth. "We are required to do things, unimaginable things to keep this world safe." If only she knew what he was truly capable of.
"Then why?" she pleaded. "Why am I here if I'm not good enough to be in your elite club?"
"You may not meet Kendricks' criteria, but you did exceed my own."
"For what?" she asked exasperated.
"I, too, want a legacy. Someone to carry on the family name. You and I would make beautiful, intelligent, and proficient agents."
Offended fury radiated from her as realization dawned across her face. "So, I'm nothing but a broodmare! You expect me just to spread my legs and pop out your spawn?"
"Don't be so vulgar. If you were only good for that I wouldn't have gone through the trouble of marrying you and bringing you here. I should be commended for overlooking all your American flaws."
He ducked as her wine glass came flying at him, shattering behind him. He turned to make sure none of the wards had been broken. When he faced her once more, she was running at him like a deranged banshee.
"You pompous, arrogant, asshole." Her nails raked his skin trying to inflict damage to his face. Her feet assaulted his shins.
Arthur grabbed her wrists and swept her legs out from under her. Her back hit the floor, knocking the breath from her lungs. He took advantage of the few moments it took for her to recover to pin her down underneath him.
"I'll never have your children," Kensley spat, struggling in his grasp.
"You're under the impression that you have a choice." He tugged at his belt loosening it and pulling it from the loops around his waist. He wrapped the belt around the thick carved leg of a heavy display table then bound her wrists together.
Restrained she frantically kicked her legs trying to defend herself as her skirt was pushed up. "I hate you! I'll kill myself before I carry your child."
"No, you won't. Because you'll never remember any of this." He ripped her panties from her body and spread her legs.
Repeating the ancient words he had researched in case she handled her new situation poorly, he untucked his shirt, opened his pants and pulled out his aching cock. As he finished his incantation, her eyes glazed over. Lining up to her entrance he pushed himself into her warmth. Tight and resisting flesh gave way to his thrusts as her body relaxed and wetness coated his length.
Where once she had screamed and berated him, moans and mewls now escaped her throat. He wasn't going to last long, he had gone wanting for weeks. To have her under him, meeting his thrusts, arching her back. It was too much. He reached between them and stroked her clit in small circles. Her muscles fluttered, her pace faltered. Her face froze in ecstasy as her pussy tightened around him. He felt his own orgasm building, his dick convulsed releasing hot cum deep within her. He fell on top of her breathing deeply in the crook of her neck.
"Arthur?" a confused voice asked.
"Yes, my darling?" He looked down at a confused face smiling shyly at him.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Surely, you weren't that intoxicated, love." He removed the belt, kissing her pink wrists.
"Intoxi—"she started.
"We were drinking wine. One thing led to the other. You became so passionate I had to restrain your arms. See where you scratched me?" He motioned to his face.
She giggled and blushed. It was so becoming. "I'm so sorry." She cupped his face lovingly. "I'll try not drink so much next time."
Arthur kissed his bride and sighed in relief when she returned his affection. "Oh, but I insist you do. Naughty minx. Why don't we retire upstairs? Perhaps a bath?" He stood and helped her to her feet.
She pulled her dress down and smoothed her hair. "That sounds wonderful. Arthur?"
"Hmmm?" He zipped his fly, leaving his shirt uncharacteristically untucked.
"I'm so glad I said yes." She wrapped her arms around his waist as false memories of their first date and elopement played through her head.
He laid a kiss on her forehead, holding her tight. "I'm glad too. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't."
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