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Okay, now Onus can come in. Also, the way I set it up makes it so that Onus can’t take him off of her. >u< (also, sorry for the increasing crappiness—I’m super duper tired now, ahahah)
She could not rise again. He knew it would be so—causality. A sneer flickered across his lips. “불상한 아이,” that empty tenor sneered. Her eyes were closed, but he knew that she did not sleep, that she had not allowed her mind to slip into oblivion. For a long moment, an unbearably long moment for his daughter, the brute simply stood above her, looking down his long, cruel maw. He breathed in her scent. The scent of that family’s blood was his only weakness, and it was irresistible. The pied brute reached down, lifting that limp body from the ground in a strangely gentle manner. He entered the room, shutting and locking the door behind him, before he lay her upon the bed. A fire was running, and the air was comfortably warm. He looked down at her, his hand reaching out as he ran it down her side and leg as if feeling and admiring some fur coat. Those empty eyes roamed around her. What a fine young woman he had spawned.
He walked over to the fire and lifted from its tongues a metal rod—or a brand. He had modified one that had been found. It was a small one, no larger than the circumference of his thumb. He did not want his female to be overly married. A slight sneer clawed upon his maw. Glowing, the brand was brought to the bed. His hand touched the inside of her left thigh as a lover might, his fingers dangerously near to that fruit. “Was it here?” He paused there, his hand upon her inner thigh. He did not speak to Cwmfen but to Onus. His grip shifted, and he held her to the bed firmly before pressing the hot iron against her skin where her thigh had been kissed. But his daughter was so weak that she did not move very much—she did not even cry out. The brute laughed as he retracted the brand, reading the HanJa that now read “Darkness”. Throwing the rod back into the flames, he released her and climbed onto the bed, pressing his body up against hers. “You’ve always belonged to me,” he whispered in her ear, his hand coming up to brush against her wounded neck.
He thrust into her, roughly. Corvus’ body shuddered, the ecstasy he felt brought on by the reclamation of her body, by his submergence into that bloodline. She seemed to respond then, her struggling weak against him. Those merciless hands raked along her body, pushing into those wounds and keeping them open. As those brutal thrusts beat against her, his maw sough the wound upon her nape, his tongue flickering out as a snake’s might, and he drank that precious blood. For that first round, he was brutal and merciless upon her, bruising her, making her bleed. She was his and always had been. He would forgive her for giving her body to others, but he would cleanse her body first. As he had promised, his body would wash the other males’ from her. Her body would be made to forget. When he had finished with her, when he had spread his seed within her, the brute withdrew from her and was satisfied.
Eventually, he no longer penetrated her body for mere reproductive purposes. He used her for his own pleasure. She was nothing to him. It was what her body could do for him. For the rest of the night into the morning, he raped her several more times, as if to assure that she would become impregnated. Occasionally she’d cry out in pleasure, her body betraying her, her body forgetting that it should be resisting. The brute had not allowed her to heal, but much of the blood had ceased to flow, and his body against hers had made her hot. In the early hours of dawn, when he had allowed himself to sleep, Cwmfen had risen. But whatever it was that was sought to be done had failed. He pushed her roughly against the wall, his body against her back, holding her hands against the wall with his own as he raped her there, his jaws holding the back of her neck possessively. The wounds that had stained the sheets of the bed were now against him, tainting the pure white of his hollow breast. “You cannot,” that hollow tenor murmured in her hear. “You belong to me know.” He thrust into her as she moaned out loud, but whether it was for pain or pleasure could not be discerned.