She Dreamed The Monster First

Chapter 6

The banquet ended long after midnight, but for Elara, the nightmare was just beginning.

The laughter, the music, the feasting—it all faded into the dark, heavy silence of the castle.

But the King's words remained, echoing inside her mind like a death sentence."Send her to my chambers tonight."The servants were dismissed.

The nobles, drunk on wine and power, stumbled back to their guest chambers to f**k their own wives or slaves.

The fires in the Great Hall burned down to embers. Yet Elara remained exactly where she had been ordered to wait: a narrow, cold corridor outside the royal wing.

Two guards stood nearby. Their eyes raked over her body, hungry and cruel.

They were watching, making certain she didn't run. Not that there was anywhere to run.

The castle sat atop cliffs hundreds of feet above a churning, deadly sea. The gates were guarded by men who would r**e and kill her for fun.

The forests beyond were filled with wolves, monsters, and worse.A slave had nowhere to go. S

he was trapped.Hours seemed to pass. The cold seeped through her thin dress, freezing her bones.

Elara sat alone on a wooden bench, her hands trembling violently in her lap. She thought of the women who returned every morning from this very room.

The bruises on their thighs. The tears in their eyes. The hollow, dead look on their faces.

The way they walked as if their souls had been ripped out.Now she understood. The waiting was its own form of torture.

It was designed to break her spirit before he even touched her.Finally, one of the guards stepped forward.

His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, a threat in itself. A cruel smirk twisted his lips.

"The King is ready," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "He wants his toy."Elara's stomach twisted into a knot of nausea and terror.

Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard it hurt. For a brief, suicidal moment, she considered refusing.

Screaming.

Running.The thought disappeared as quickly as it came.

Refusal meant punishment. Refusal meant death.

Or worse, it meant being sent to the dungeons where she would be r***d by guards until she died.She rose on unsteady legs, her knees shaking so badly she nearly fell.

The guards escorted her through torchlit corridors. Ancient stone walls stretched endlessly around them, silent witnesses to centuries of abuse.

The deeper they walked into the royal wing, the quieter the castle became. The air felt heavy, suffocating.At last, they stopped.

Massive wooden doors stood before them, carved with symbols of power and conquest.

The guards pushed them open with a loud creak."Enter," one of them spat. "The King hates waiting."Elara obeyed.

Her legs felt like lead.The doors closed behind her with a final, terrifying thud.

The sound echoed throughout the chamber, sealing her fate.The room was enormous, opulent, and sickening.

A fire crackled within a stone hearth, casting long, dancing shadows. Heavy curtains concealed the windows, blocking out any hope of rescue.

Animal pelts covered the floor—skins of beasts the King had killed.King Lodrick stood near a table, pouring himself another goblet of wine.

He was naked, his body pale and soft in some places, hard and cruel in others. He didn't even turn around.

For several moments, he didn't acknowledge her presence at all. As though she were a piece of furniture.

Or a dog he had called into the room.Fear settled heavily inside her chest, a cold, icy hand squeezing her heart.

She lowered her eyes, staring at the floor.Eventually, he glanced in her direction.

His expression carried the same bored amusement she had seen during the banquet.

The same look he wore whenever someone else's suffering entertained him.

His eyes raked over her body, not with desire, but with the cold calculation of a man inspecting livestock.He didn't ask her name.

He didn't care.

He didn't ask if she was frightened. He knew she was, and he liked it.

He didn't treat her as a person. To him, she was simply another slave. Another hole to f**k. Another way to satisfy his twisted desires.

Another thing he could take and break."Take your clothes off," he ordered, his voice flat and commanding

. "And lay on the bed. Legs spread. I don't have time for games."Elara's fingers trembled as she reached for the hem of her dress.

Her hands were numb with fear. She peeled away the thin, dirty fabric until she stood bare before him, exposed and vulnerable.

Her skin goosebumped in the cold air, but she didn't dare cover herself.

She climbed onto the massive bed, the silk sheets feeling cold and slippery under her skin.

She lay back, her heart pounding in her ears.

Slowly, trembling, she parted her thighs, exposing herself completely to his gaze.

She closed her eyes, tears leaking out despite her best efforts to stay strong.

The King didn't even care whether it was her first time.

He didn't care about her pain. He wasn't being gentle.

He wasn't being kind. He was a monster.

He climbed onto the bed, his weight pressing her down.

He grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh hard enough to bruise.

"He didn't bother with foreplay. He didn't bother with lubrication.

He grabbed his c**k, hard and thick, and shoved it inside her p***y in one rough, brutal thrust

.Elara cried out, a scream of pain that was cut off by his hand over her mouth.

Tears streamed down her face as her body jolted with every merciless stroke. He was huge, filling her completely, stretching her beyond what felt possible.

It hurt. It burned. It felt like she was being torn apart.

He began f*****g her hard and fast, pounding into her with no rhythm, no mercy, no care.

He was using her body solely for his pleasure, treating her like a piece of meat.

Every thrust sent a shockwave of pain through her body. She bit his hand to stifle her sobs, but the tears kept coming, soaking the pillow beneath her head.

"That's it," he grunted, his breathing heavy and ragged. I like it when they cry."He leaned down, his breath hot and smelling of wine against her ear.

"You're nothing. Just a slave. A w***e. And you love it, don't you?"

He pounded into her faster, harder, his hips slamming against her buttocks with brutal force.

Elara felt herself tearing inside, blood mixing with the lack of lubrication, but he didn't stop.

He couldn't stop. He was lost in his own sick pleasure."I'm close," he growled, his grip on her hips tightening until she knew she would be bruised for weeks. "

Take it all."With one final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, holding her down as he pumped his semen into her.

But he didn't finish inside her womb. With a cruel laugh, he pulled out abruptly, leaving her gaping and bleeding.

He grabbed her hair, forcing her head back. "Open your mouth."She obeyed, trembling.

He aimed his c**k at her face and released his c*m, hot and thick, directly into her mouth and onto her face. It splattered over her lips, her nose, her eyes.

It tasted bitter and salty, a final humiliation.

"Swallow it," he commanded.She swallowed, gagging on his seed, tears and semen mixing on her face.

King Lodrick pulled away, wiping his c**k on her hair like it was a rag. He looked down at her with a wicked smile, his eyes cold and satisfied.

He looked at her broken body, her tears, her humiliation, and he laughed."Get out," he waved his hand dismissively, turning his back on her.

"You're useless now."Elara stayed still for a moment, her body shaking uncontrollably.

Pain radiated from her core, a sharp, burning reminder of what had just happened.

She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, but the tears kept coming, endless and hopeless.Slowly, painfully, she sat up.

Her legs were unsteady, her thighs trembling and bleeding. She found her rag clothes on the floor, stained and dirty.

She pulled them on with clumsy, shaking fingers. The fabric stuck to her skin where his c*m had smeared, a disgusting, sticky reminder of his ownership.

She didn't look back at him. She couldn't.The King had already turned away, reaching for a goblet on the table, pouring himself more wine like she was no longer there.

Like she had never existed. Like she was nothing more than a used towel.Elara reached the door, pushed it open, and ran.Her bare feet slapped against the cold stone corridor, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop.

Tears streamed down her cheeks in a steady flow, blurring her vision, but she didn't care.

She ran through the dark corridors, past the guards who laughed at her, past the servants who looked away.

She ran until her lungs burned and her legs gave out