Chapter 6: Wedding Night with the Cruel General

I leaped back, whirling around. The General stood unmoving, the dim light painting his face with sinister shadows, a smirk playing on his lips at my startled reaction. He was relishing my fear; the room felt devoid of oxygen. "Wait," I managed, the chilling meaning of his words registering. "You've been waiting for this? What are you talking about?" Surely he hadn't desired me before; I was intended for the King. He had never given any indication.

"Exactly as I said. I have been waiting for this," he said, moving to a table to pour water with unsettling ease. "The moment to continue my revenge. Your people's deaths were not enough. I want something lasting, slow torture." He took a sip, his gaze unwavering. I had to escape this. I turned to run, but he moved with terrifying speed, his grip like iron on my waist, lifting me effortlessly before throwing me onto the bed.

A cry of pain escaped me, followed by a strained grunt as I tried to push him away. His large hand clamped around my wrists, his grip inescapable as he brutally forced me open and ground into me. He leaned in, but I turned my head away, my eyes squeezed shut against the violation. "Oh, the delights we shall explore, my royal princess. Gentleness is a foreign concept to me," he rasped, his mouth sucking at my neck until a painful bruise bloomed. A whimper of terror escaped my lips. "Please," I begged, tears welling, "I am innocent. I cannot endure such harshness."

He seemed to consider my plea briefly before releasing me. But his reprieve was a cruel deception. He returned with rope, swiftly binding me to one of the thick oak posts, leaving me vulnerable on the large bed. With a disturbing lack of shame, he stripped bare, his sculpted and scared muscles a shocking sight to my innocent eyes. I had never witnessed a naked man. Even the communal bathing of my brothers and my time as a captive among slaves had maintained a strict separation of the sexes. He exuded a frightening aura of both strength and ferocity.

I glanced down, and the sight that met my eyes was utterly alien, sending a new kind of terror through me. This couldn't be real. His engorged member was enormous, and a sharp fear pierced me that it would violently tear me. He smiled down at me, but it was a predatory baring of teeth. "Untouched," he purred, his voice laced with a disturbing satisfaction. "Your body will be mine, and mine alone. A thought that brings me… close to joy. Almost." He chuckled softly. "Others have sampled me, though not many. As you can witness, some have found me… difficult to accommodate. Women? I have known a handful. Men… well, you know my history, Princess."

That history, yes. A path I'd rather not tread. He began to open my robe and rip apart my lace gown, then forced my legs spread wide, a position that filled me with shame, causing me to look away and try to close them. "Do not move," he warned, his tone deceptively calm. I shifted back into the forced position, his unwavering stare making my skin crawl. "You truly are a captivating sight," he murmured. "I thought I was repulsive," I whispered, my voice trembling with unshed tears. "You are," he spat, "I despise you, the very sight of you, and yet…" His eyes continued to devour me. "I cannot help myself. I cannot look away."

"What shall my first torment be, Princess?" he mused. "Shall I twist your peaked nipples until you beg for release? Or perhaps suck your skin until it is bruised and red? Fear not, I will choose places easily concealed beneath your royal attire."

That unwelcome warmth returned, followed by the undeniable dampness. "Oh, please, don't look," I pleaded breathlessly, hiding my face. "Princess, does my torment arouse you? You still haven't answered. Which do you prefer?" "The… bruising," I mumbled. "What?!" "The bruising!"

He pressed down on my chest, his mouth a hot, insistent pressure on my skin. I writhed at the unfamiliar feeling. He moved over me, his attentions focused on areas easily concealed, never quite touching the core of my being. His body heat was an oppressive weight. "Ngh!" I cried out as his mouth moved to my inner thigh, his breath a deliberate caress against my most vulnerable skin. I risked a glance; his grin was predatory. "Now, for the next torment." He lowered his head, his tongue a slow, deliberate torment against my core, circling and swirling relentlessly. My body betrayed me, a silent gasp escaping my lips. Involuntary tremors shook me, my hips beginning to lift and fall. Just as the sensation peaked, he cruelly withdrew.

Again and again he repeated the agonizing near-climax, leaving me frantic to understand what lay beyond. "Don't stop!" I begged when he paused, only to cruelly begin the cycle anew. "You are in no position to dictate, Princess," he said, his tongue swirling as his eyes held a mocking gleam. "Ah!" The sensations intensified. "Wait, yes, just like that, wait!" He stopped, and a frustrated groan tore from my throat. "What do you believe will occur if I continue?" he asked, his voice dripping with amusement. "I don't know! Please, I need to know, stop this torment." "The answer will be revealed in my own time," he stated, his gaze cold and controlling.

"You are completely soaked," he observed, wiping his face. He moved to position himself, and the mere sight of him sent a wave of dizziness through me. "W-wait, you can't!" I exclaimed, my voice laced with alarm. "You are more than ready," he responded, the tip of his large member dipping down, but he could go no further. "Princess, please, just relax," he urged. "I am relaxed!" I choked out, my body tense. He nudged me, and a sharp cry escaped my lips. "Stop! STOP!" I yelled. He paused. "This position is not ideal." He then lay down beside me, shifting me until I was positioned above him, my breasts dangling inches from his face as he meticulously ensured our alignment. My wrists remained bound above his head.

Moving down only worsened the feeling of wrongness. My eyes squeezed shut, my jaw tight, as silent tears streamed down my flushed face. A brief look of pity crossed his face before frustration hardened his features. "You are impossible, Princess. Another way." I was positioned on my side, one leg raised, as he knelt behind me, probing and forcing an entry. Only a fraction of his length could penetrate before the pain became unbearable, a stark indication that our bodies were never meant to join. "Don't pass out on me, Princess," he said, observing my increasingly pale complexion and the sweat beading on my brow.

"I will have to make you ready for me," he declared, inserting two fingers with a calculated gentleness that belied his intentions, carefully avoiding the tearing of my hymen. His stroking elicited a moan, but when he seized my hair, pulling my head back, the sound transformed into a painful grunt. "I want to hear your suffering, not your pleasure," he seethed. "Then finish this, you monster! I want it over!" I spat back, my anger a desperate shield against the pain. My defiance seemed to anger him further. He withdrew his fingers and then brutally forced himself into me, stopping abruptly halfway. A raw yell tore from my throat at the sudden, agonizing intrusion. Pain was too mild a word for this torment.

"You asked for this, now endure it!" he spat, and then he brutally thrust into me, a shallow, agonizing in-and-out motion. A cry tore from my throat, and I dissolved into helpless tears as his relentless assault continued. Finally, I felt the tearing, and he paused within me for a moment. "There it is. Now you are a woman. The first layer broken for me!" He resumed his violent thrusting, ignoring my desperate pleas and sobs. "It hurts! Please, it hurts so much!" I begged. After what felt like an eternity of torment, I felt his grip tighten on my leg. He thrust a few more times, a strained sound escaping his lips. "Th-Thalassa! My Princess!" he gasped, his face buried in my hair. He remained motionless, still joined to me, his body jerking slightly. Had his seed been planted within me? His breathing was ragged. Then, with a strange quietness, he unbound my hands and pulled the covers over us. He looked at me for a long moment, his gaze lingering on my hair, my face, then my body. Was there a flicker of regret in his eyes? "Sleep. We journey back tomorrow." He then moved to the far edge of the bed, his body still as he prepared for sleep.

I curled into a tight ball, weeping silently, clutching myself, desperately willing sleep to claim me despite the throbbing pain and the profound violation I had endured.