Chapter 2

I married Ranold Albert Hamilton on the day I passed the last exam. I remember shaking my hands as I held sheets of my draft papers, knowing that as soon as I got home, I'd have a staff preparing me for the ceremony. My thoughts were completely unrelated to school. I was thinking about what was going to happen to me this evening, this night. And as I reflected on the night, I remembered his words. "Prepare yourself." I flushed immediately and covered my face with the sheets of paper.

"Is he really going to do this to me? Will we be sleeping in the same bed? Will he ever touch me?... Or... will he do it roughly as spousal duty and then leave me in my room for the rest of the night?' I was fully focused on the future, completely ignoring the present. "Or perhaps... Perhaps he won't do it to me at all? If this is just a contract, he might not..." That sounded so real to me at the time. I didn't know the rules that Ranold Hamilton used, but I did know the human rules. When something is fictitious, people rarely go above and beyond what is necessary for a happy life. That thought made me happy. At the very least, it gave me hope.

The road to my house was very fast. I had no idea how I ended up in a black jeep with two men on both sides driving nowhere. I realized there was no turning back once we stepped through the door of a beauty salon.

"You're so fortunate to be married at such a young age! Who is your husband?" The girl who assisted me with my bathroom procedures started asking questions.

"Mirinda, it's impolite to ask our dear guest such a question," the other woman who washed my hair said sternly.

"I know, but I'm just curious! Maybe he has a wealthy brother or something, so I could try all these expensive procedures as well," said the girl in a sweet voice.

"It doesn't matter who the client is as long as we have enough money, doesn't it?" The woman whispered in my ear. "Your husband paid a lot of money for you to have all of these staff, honey, so don't let him down on your first wedding night."

They both burst out laughing.

However, I did not laugh. I only chuckled nervously, pretending to accept her advice.

My mind was filled with thoughts about the next night. I was desperately thinking about Ranold Hamilton and what he would do to me. Different thoughts, other people's words, and other different stuff came to mind, and I was exhausted just thinking about it, let alone doing it.

We finished in a few hours. I was dressed in a nice white suit that seemed to be beneath me and nice white shoes made of leather or something. I've never worn such a lovely pair of shoes before. The clothes were also of high quality. I enjoyed the softness of the fabric and how it felt against my skin. The material was clearly made of very expensive goods.

I was ready for the ceremony at exactly 6 p.m. Two men followed me to my car and opened the door in front of me. I thanked them and went inside, not paying attention to who was in the car. I looked down at my fingers, nervously rubbing them against my palms and then touching the soft fabric of my pants. It was not only soft, but also soothing, as if my hand were slipping through the grass or a field of wildflowers.

"Do you like it?"

"Y-yes," I nodded slightly, smiling at the corners of my lips, when I realized who that voice belonged to. I flinched, clutching my fingers, as a feeling of minor fear ran through my entire body. "Ex... Excuse me," I muttered.

"There's no need to apologize," he replied. "I tried to pick something that would comfort you throughout the circumstances, because my last bride ran away from the altar, and I'm not going to let that happen again."

"OK," I said, my voice trembling.

I couldn't explain why, but it felt natural for me to respond to every sentence or word he said, as if to gain his favor. I don't know if that feature saved me from the events that followed that day, but it was the only right decision for me at that time.

***

It was the same church. It was the same priest. The same decorations. The same groom. But I'm a bride. I was alone in front of the altar. My mother and sister were sitting on the bench behind me, watching my back, and I could tell they were as nervous as I was. Ranold Hamilton gave me a small bouquet of lovely white and rose flowers. I accepted it as expected and proceeded to the altar. He was following me, as if he was waiting for me to give up and accept my fate.

Usually, the groom waits for the bride as a symbol of future support and strength, but we were not ordinary newlyweds. He forced me to walk the path alone, exposing the reality of what awaited me after the wedding.

I took a step up the stairs, getting closer to the priest. Ranold Hamilton came to a halt near me. The priest began to say the standard phrases. I didn't even hear a sound because all I could think about was how the man next to me would never be my "strength and support," as they say.

"Olivier Michel Garcin?" I awoke from my deepest thought and looked at the priest, who was confusedly staring at me.

"Yes?" I pretended I wasn't there, and it wasn't even my wedding.

"Khm!" He coughed, pointing directly at Ranold Albert Hamilton, who was staring at me with the golden ring in his hands, ready to be placed on someone's finger.

I was embarrassed and having no idea what to do next when the priest finally took my bouquet from my hands, freeing them to accept the ring.

"People's life is made up of contracts," Ranold Hamilton said, taking my hand and putting the ring on my finger. "Marriage is the second most crucial because you take responsibility for another person and promise to provide a good life for him or her. As a result, I believe the action should take place in a holy place. Nothing could stop it once it agreed on heavens."

Those were the words Ranold Albert Hamilton told me on our wedding day. I didn't take them seriously, so they meant nothing to me at that time. I only remember his hands being so warm, in contrast to mine. And that surprised me a little.

"I now pronounce you married couple," the priest said as we signed our names beneath the marriage contract, according to which I became Olivier Michel Hamilton.

We spent the next few hours on the roof of a very expensive restaurant, eating a lot of food. I was starving and the food looked delicious, but I couldn't even eat a bite because something was stuck in my throat. I was only sifting the food with my fork while pretending to smile at my "husband" and mom, nodding both of them as if everything was fine. Thank goodness Ranold Hamilton gave us enough time to say goodbye, so we could sit together on the bench, hidden from other people's eyes, and share words of encouragement for a better life.

When Ranold Hamilton arrived, I knew the family evening was over and I needed to go to my new home. I wiped the tears away and took a step forward, showing that nothing else is keeping me from him. My mother and sister sat in a different car. He assured me that my relatives would be delivered home safely and that nothing would happen to them. I only took a deep breath after realizing I was alone, far from home, in a car full of strangers.

I was looking out the window as we crossed the bridge. The night lights were amazing, and I was glued to them, watching the bright streets, cafes and night restaurants, large business centers, and shopping malls. The car finally came to a halt. Unlike previous occasions, Ranold Hamilton himself opened the door in front of me, inviting me to leave. As soon as I stepped onto the pavement, he drew me close to him, covering my head with his coat. I was frustrated and confused what to do. When we finally entered the elevator, I grabbed his shirt and walked alongside him. My heart was beating so loudly and frequently that it seemed to take up the entire space in this small cabin. I was terrified. I was baffled. I couldn't figure it out. But I kept clutching his shirt in my hands as if my life depended on it. He only let me go when we got to the dark flat. It was as sudden as he had at first pulled me, so I was even more frustrated, clutching my sleeves, wondering what to do next.

"Come here," he said as he stepped forward into the kitchen.

I obeyed.

"Drink this," he said, handing me a glass with some liquid inside.

"What is this...?" I whispered as I took the glass and inspected the liquid.

"Drink it," he said more sternly, and I took a sip, feeling the alcohol burn in my mouth. "All of it." He pushed the glass towards me, so I had no choice but to drink the entire stock, feeling the warmth deep within my stomach. "Good. And now, please wait for me in the bedroom."

He showed me the way, and I followed him to the door. The bedroom was also dark, but there were panoramic windows that allowed me to see the entirety of New Orleans. I sat down on the bed. The warmth of the drank alcohol came from deep within and spread throughout my entire body. I felt sleepy, as if my eyes were closing on their own. When the door to the bedroom suddenly opened, the heat began to cover my entire body, and I took off my jacket, unbuttoning a few buttons on the shirt near my neck. The time had come.

I felt a desperate fear deep within me, but my body refused to obey, and I was drunk.

"Stand up," he said, and I did so, pulling my head away as if it could help.

I wanted to open my mouth and scream and cry that I couldn't and didn't want to do it, that I was terrified. I flinched as I felt his warm breath on my cheek and his warm palm on my neck and thumb on my collarbone.

"You're now my husband." If only I knew what these words meant... "You don't need it. Remove it now."

With trembling fingers, I began unbuttoning my shirt. The cool air brushed against my naked chest, and I felt my nipples flinch and harden. I was so embarrassed that I could feel something, but my head was completely blank, and I was completely out of my mind due to the alcohol.

"You have nothing to be afraid of," he said once again. "Remove everything."

As I struggled with my belt and trousers, I heard the sound of the glass being placed on the bedside table. It was a huge relief to understand that Ranold Hamilton was also undressing. At the very least, he wasn't one of those jerks who took pleasure in watching others. 'Perhaps he's not such a bad guy,' I thought as I saw his prick ready to kill me. I was so embarrassed that I blushed and crossed my hands across my chest.

'He's a very big bad man,' I thought as my ass got wet from one imprudent look. How filthy I showed up to myself at that moment. I thanked all the gods that it was dark in the room and Ranold Hamilton had not turned on the lights.

When I felt his palms on my waist, lifting me up in the air and then putting me on the bed, I squealed and grabbed his wrists, pulling the knees to my belly, twisting and crawling away. However, his hands only caught the right moment and position to go down my hips and spread my legs apart, putting him right in front of my lips. I was so scared of him changing positions so quickly that I just grabbed his shoulders and felt his hot body on me.

"I don't know what to do," I said precipitously as he leaned in close to my lips, stopping just a few centimeters away.

I'd missed the moment when I started feeling better after his kisses, but I remember the strong flinch and the first moan as he reached my chest. My mind was a complete jumble. I couldn't tell you how much time had passed or whether I liked it or not because of the alcohol. I only remember the heat and warmth wherever he touched me with his hands, lips, or tongue. I remember how surprised I was when he first sucked my dick. I've heard from omegas and alphas at school that alphas rarely do this to their boyfriends because it's humbling for a man. But who would have imagined that Ranold Hamilton himself would do a blowjob to me?

Then he turned me on my stomach so I could relax for a while. He didn't say anything, but even if he did, I wouldn't listen to him because of my current state. When I thought everything was finished, the most interesting part began. He ran his hand up my back to my neck and slightly clenched my shoulder, so I let out a squeezed exhale that sounded like a moan. Then I felt a pressure inside me and some slow movements. I twitched a little, trying to move forward, but his grip on me was solid. For a split second, I thought it was his "big thing," but as he added something to make the space inside tighter, I realized it was just fingers. Even though they were large enough for me, my body was so intent on following him and his movements that I moaned as if I wanted more of it. My fingers clenched the blanket, and I felt a strong growing sensation inside of me. It was coming from the bottom, sending signals to all of my senses, and I finally felt so good that I couldn't stop shaking on the bed, groaning so loudly and cutely that my ears laid.

His hot palms, which suddenly appeared on my waist, were so pleasant and calm that I forgot about everything for a moment. I bit my lip to keep my mouth from asking for more, but it was clear I wanted more. And he gave it to me. He gave it to me for every moan I gave him, every flinch, twist, and shudder. I felt him inside me and tears running down my cheeks, but the pleasure he gave me was far greater than the moment of bursting pain. I finally felt like I was in my rightful place, beneath him, clutching his palms with my fingers and moaning from the depths of my chest.

It was our first night together. There will be others. More other nights of pleasure and endless satisfaction. But that night, for the first time, I realized what it meant to be Olivier Michel Hamilton.