CHOSEN ONE
I READ OVER the white card in my hand that was left on my nightstand Monday night after he visited me.
Lifting my eyes to the cathedral, I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to
nibble on it nervously. It’s what one would think of—large and medieval- looking with the high walls and spiers on the top. It sits in the middle of nowhere off the two-lane road. It reminds me of something you’d see in a scary movie where some kids come to a haunted building to explore. Only they all end up dead in various rooms due to blunt force trauma, and the villain smears their blood along the walls.
Okay, maybe I’ve watched too many scary movies lately.
An old white cross sits above the main entrance. You can see where it once was upright due to the discoloration, but at some point, it has fallen. The wind rocks it slightly back and forth, making a creaking sound just adding to the ick factor. It could not be scarier if it was made for a movie set.
It’s cold out tonight. My body shakes, and my teeth chatter while I stand in a low-cut black mini dress that barely covers my ass and red Gucci heels. I have all my weight on the balls of my feet. Otherwise, they’d sink into the soft ground.
I did my makeup heavy with smokey eyes, thick eyeliner, and red lipstick. I probably look like a cheap hooker walking the streets to find a John. But I won’t be getting paid for what I’m about to do. No. I’m going to freely give it away. Hand it over to a man who I know will use it. Abuse it.
Looking back down at the card, I flip it over to see The Ritual Vow Ceremony typed out along with the address that I had to google. It was exactly thirty minutes from campus, tucked back in the middle of nowhere. Below that, it reads—once the chosen accepts her duty, she is bound to serve him.
I’m getting to be part of a “ritual” of the Lords. I know it seems as creepy as it sounds, but I need something new in my life. It’s been missing something for as long as I can remember. And Ryat made me realize what that is.
“Haven’t you ever wanted to do something for yourself?”
His question in the library made me think. From a young age, I’ve had dreams of what I wanted for a future, but my parents have shot them down one by one. I wanted to go to Stanford, but that wasn’t an option.
“Barrington is where you’ll go.” My mother told me that when I was twelve. No argument.
I like Barrington, don’t get me wrong, but it just wasn’t my first choice. I wanted to be normal for once. I went to a private school all my life, so Barrington feels no different. It’s secluded in the middle of Pennsylvania. It’s for rich kids—the elite. The ones with criminal records a mile long that daddies have paid off and judges have brushed under the rug. What could possibly go wrong when you put them all in one place? They are the men and women born and bred to take over their family’s business one day. The degrees are formalities. You need the accolades on paper even though they’re just handed that billion-dollar empire once they graduate.
I guess that’s another factor that led me here to the middle of nowhere at this cathedral—bored out of my fucking mind. Every day of my entire life has been planned out for me. The sports I was allowed to play, the grades I had to make. The man I’ll marry.
It’s been painfully exhausting. Do you ever just want to shut it all off? Not have to think about the next second of your life? Go on an unplanned road trip? Have a one-night stand with the cute guy you scrolled past on your timeline? Social media makes you think you have all this freedom, but you don’t. Not really. You’re stuck behind a device watching others live out their dreams. You post selfies of fake smiles and expensive clothes, hoping that someone will envy you. Reassure you just how good you have it. All the while hating your life. “Smile, dear, you never know who is watching you,” my mother always tells me.
Desperation is never pretty.
Ryat is my way out. Being a chosen one is my escape. Well, at least for now. Who knows how long it’ll last? Maybe it’s all for pretend, but it’s something I want to do.
Taking in a deep breath, I begin to climb the stairs into the building. Pushing open the heavy doors, they squeak, informing whoever is here of my arrival.
My heart hammers in my chest while I walk down the central aisle. Figures fill the large pews on either side. They’re all dressed in black cloaks and white masks. I wasn’t raised religious, so I’ve never been to church before. I always expected places like this to be the color of gold—shiny and expensive—to give you an overwhelming feeling of calmness. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
It’s old. The high ceilings are the same color as a dark night. You can see there were once paintings on them, but over time have faded to unrecognizable. The floor is covered in leaves and branches. It’s just as cold as it was outside and the old stained-glass whistles from the heavy winds.
Ahead of me looks to be a large stage and altar. On both sides are long staircases that take you up to a loft overlooking the congregation. In the middle of the loft sits a tub for baptism sunk into the floor up against the ledge. The side facing us is all glass to allow the people of the church to witness. Three steps on either side step down into the water, and it has to be about four feet deep.
I make my way on shaky legs to the front, leaves and branches that cover parts of the rotting floor crunching under my heels. Old, outdated, and very abandoned-looking, this place is nothing like the hotel where they live. Makes me wonder why they would use it for anything.
Coming to a stop at the front, I notice in the first two rows, sitting next to the ones dressed in cloaks and masks, are women. None of which are covered. They’re like me. Each wearing dresses and heels. The girl on the far end catches my attention.
It’s Sarah.
I go to walk over to her but stop when I see the woman next to her. It’s the blonde from the party at the house of Lords. Matt’s girlfriend.
Is he here? If so, he’s wearing a cloak and mask. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, thinking he’s watching me, but I notice you can’t see any of the women’s hands or arms. Looking closer, I realize they must be behind their backs. My heart hammers, blood rushing in my ears at the eerie silence in such a large building. It’s deafening.
I jump when a hand lands on my shoulder from behind. I try to turn around, but it prevents me from doing so. Instead, he runs his hands down
my arms slowly, and I know he can feel me shaking. When he gets to my wrists, he gently brings them behind my back.
I close my eyes, knowing I’m going to accept what’s coming. No matter what happens here tonight, it’ll be because I took a chance. I chose to be here. I choose to be his for however long he decides he wants me.
He grips both of my wrists in one of his hands, then I hear the sound of metal. My chest rises and falls with each erratic intake of breath. I look out at Sarah, and she has her head down, staring at the floor. A quick glance down the first row shows them all doing it.
The cold metal wraps around my wrist, and he secures the handcuffs one at a time to the point they pinch my skin, making me whimper.
“Are they too tight?” I recognize Ryat’s voice, pulling my hair off my shoulder.
“Yes,” I answer softly.
“Good.” Then he tightens them each one more click, and I hiss in a breath.
“Will you hurt me?” “Yes.”
I expect there to be pain involved, and a part of me is excited about that.
Grabbing my upper arm, he yanks me back.
RYAT
I LEAD HER up the stairs with my hand on her upper arm, my fingers digging into her soft skin. I’ve been waiting for this day for too long. Seems like forever since I was told to take her as my chosen. But it’s finally here. Making our way to the platform, I bring her over to the small pool-like structure that was added for us to perform the ritual.
The Lords were given this building a long time ago. The first thing they did was gut the inside. It’s not your average cathedral. Things have been added to accommodate our traditions.
She fumbles to a stop at the edge, and I hear her breathing pick up. I’m about to tell her to get into the water, but she takes the first step herself. I bite back a smile. My girl wants to give herself to me, and I can’t wait to make her mine.
Usually, this is done with the chosen naked, but she will be leaving her clothes on. I don’t want anyone seeing her body. The point of the ritual is to
cleanse them from their past sexual partners, but I’m extremely territorial over what’s mine. I’ve watched women at Barrington for the last three years throw themselves around waiting for the day to be a chosen one. It just so happens that she’s never had sex. But the vow ceremony must be performed, nonetheless, in order to solidify the ritual. He still kissed her, held her, and messed around with her, I’m sure. I want to wipe any piece of him remaining clean from her body.
As part of the ritual, we have to show ownership. You either fuck their mouth, pussy, or ass. It’s not to please them. It’s for us to claim them. So, since I’m selfish and refuse to show what I have, her mouth will do. Once we’re done here, I’ll take her out back and fuck that tight cunt in the woods, on the ground or up against a tree. It doesn’t matter. Everyone will see she’s mine from the bite marks on her legs and hickeys on her neck.
Blakely will be owned by a Lord. I will make sure everyone is well aware of that.
She takes the last step, the warm water coming up to her chest as I stand next to her. Letting go of her upper arm, I reach out and push the dark hair from her face, getting it wet with my fingers. She looks so pretty right now with her makeup done and hair fixed. I’m getting ready to ruin it. “Recite your vow,” I order.
Her eyes widen for a brief second, and she licks her lips nervously. Then she takes in a deep breath. “I vow.”
Good girl. She was paying attention to the flyer that she had wadded up in her hand. “You vow,” I acknowledge and nod my head at her to say the last part with me.
“We vow,” we say in unison.
Then I reach up, gripping her hair while I kick her feet out from underneath her and shove her under the water. Holding her there. She starts to fight immediately. So hard, that the water splashes over the top of the glass, falling to the first floor.
Yanking her up, she begins choking the moment her face breaks the surface. I drag her over to the stairs to my right and sit on the top one, letting go of her for a quick second to undo my belt followed by my jeans.
She’s gasping for breath while coughing up water at the same time. It’s the only sound in the church. Everyone below sits silent, patiently waiting for me to claim my chosen one. Matt included. I hope the fucker sees how much she wants this. Me.
She’s hunched over the best she can without her face being in the water, most of her now wet hair covers it. She can’t do anything about it since her hands are still cuffed behind her back.
I pull my hard cock out and stroke it a few times, allowing her an extra second to catch her breath, knowing I’m about to make it worse. Then I reach out, gently moving her hair from her face with my fingertips to get a look at her. Black puddles under her eyes before running down her cheeks. Her wet lashes are stuck together, and her parted lips are trembling while water runs off her chin. Her pretty blue eyes are red and full of apprehension.
It’s too late now, little one. You belong to me.
I slide my hand through the water, gathering up all her long, wet hair to the back of her neck. Once I have it all, I grip it and yank her to me. “Kneel,” I order, and her knees fall to the third step, below me, making her whimper. “Open your mouth.”
Her wide eyes look over my dick, and I smile at the look of terror she has. She takes in one last deep breath and licks her lips before opening her pretty painted mouth for me. Gripping the base of my cock, I slide it into her mouth.
I’m not gentle.
Her gagging fills the space of the church, and the water once again rolls over the sides while I control her head. Up and down, it bounces on my dick. She’s trying to fight me and pull away, but I don’t let go. Instead, I grip her hair harder, forcing more of my cock down her throat. She closes her eyes tightly, and her face scrunches as I hit the back, making her gag again.
“Look at me,” I demand.
Her eyes open, and I can see the tears run down her cheeks through the water already covering her face. “Relax and open up for me,” I whisper to her, slowing my rhythm, giving her a second to catch her breath. She blinks, and new tears run down her face. I scoot forward, my ass hanging off the end of the step, getting in a better position.
I pull out, and she sucks in a gasp. “Open wide for me,” I say softly, wiping the tears from her face with my free hand, smearing the black eyeliner and mascara. “Stick your tongue out and breathe through your nose.”
Swallowing, she opens her mouth as wide as it’ll go and sticks her tongue out.
I bring her head down, her mouth taking me in once again. I lean my head back and close my eyes, not caring to watch, just wanting to come. I hit the back of her throat, and her body fights me while the gagging returns. This time, I don’t let up.
My balls tighten, and my breathing picks up. I shove her head down one last time and hold it there as I come, forcing her to swallow.
