Mesmerizing His Bride (Magical Mesmerism Book 3) Read online

  Mesmerizing His Bride

  Magical Mesmerism, Volume 3

  Nadia Nightside

  Published by Midnight Publishing, 2015.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  MESMERIZING HIS BRIDE

  First edition. April 23, 2015.

  Copyright © 2015 Nadia Nightside.

  Written by Nadia Nightside.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Mesmerizing His Bride (Magical Mesmerism, #3)

  Author's Note: All Characters Depicted Herein Are 18 Years Of Age Or Older.

  Your opinion influences other readers and matters quite a bit to me! If you enjoyed this sexy story, please leave a review on Amazon and let others know what you thought. I want to write what you love!

  Further Reading: Owning My Ex

  About the Author

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  Author's Note: All Characters Depicted Herein Are 18 Years Of Age Or Older.

  * * * * *

  Mesmerizing His Bride

  “You’re what?”

  “I feel...trapped. Helpless,” said Paige. “The marriage is in what, two weeks? I feel like I can’t get away.”

  Paige watched the beautiful blond Daniela sip at her soda through the long neon-colored twisty straw that the Corner Diner was famous for. Her plush lips couched the plastic tube perfectly. As they sat on the neon orange pleather seats, young twenty year-old Paige, dark-haired and quite beautiful herself, considered her friend.

  Would Daniela offer good advice? She loved Daniela—she was fun at parties, was a fierce protector of her friends, and had just the best fashion sense, always in designer clothes and cool, hip jewelry. They had gone to high school together, both graduating at the top of their class a year and a half ago, and each had decided to take a couple of years off and just enjoy life before stressing about education or some dumb career.

  For Paige, taking a year off had caused some dissent within her family, but eventually they accepted the decision. They accepted it more once she accepted the marriage proposal of Charles Race, first son of one of the wealthiest families in town.

  For Daniela, it had been easy. Daniela’s whole family was just filthy rich, the richest in the state, and Daniela was not shy about sharing that fact or sharing her wealth with the people she had decided to care about. But she could be...wrathful, at times, and Paige was always trying to avoid stepping into the direction of that part of her.

  “I mean, it’s marriage, Paige. Not getting away is sort of the point.”

  “I know that, it’s just...”

  Paige didn’t know how much information to trust Daniela with. In the past, Daniela had come to Paige with juicy gossip about their other friends—Lydia had a pregnancy taken care of when they were all in high school still, or Jamie was dating the guy from across town with two daughters, and so on.

  Part of Daniela’s penchant for flair and snobbery had to have come from the fact that she was so gorgeous, and flaunted it at every opportunity. Today, for instance, she wore a gorgeous plain light blue silk blouse, unbuttoned just enough to show off her big, plump tits that were as voluptuous and perfectly shaped as the rest of her. Her tiny gray pencil blue skirt only further accentuated her hourglass frame, which was entirely highlighted by her thick, golden-spun hair that draped all the way down her back in luxurious waves and curls.

  Most women were intimidated by Daniela’s beauty. Paige, although intimidated by Daniela more often than not, had no reason to feel unequal in that department. That was probably why she had ended up chosen as one of Daniela’s confidants—the beautiful blonde was distrustful of plain and ugly people, always believing them to be too jealous of her to tell the truth. Often, she was right.

  Paige was a tall bronzed beauty with long, elegant limbs and an inheritance of Brazilian and Eastern European bone structure that landed her with a uniquely gorgeous face and tight, sexy curves. Her breasts, beautiful 36 D cups, were looked on with enormous envy by most women and with unrestrained lust by most men. And so, Paige was not intimidated by Daniela’s beauty because Paige knew, very obviously, that the two of them were on their own level, largely above everyone else.

  And though she would never admit it (unlike Daniela), she rather enjoyed being at that higher level and the privileges it granted her. Marrying a rich husband like Charles Banks, her fiance, was just one of the many privileges of being a gorgeous young woman. She tried to be humble, though, she really did.

  Paige was still trying to put her thoughts together for an answer. Around her, the crowd in the diner bustled, and she noticed men stealing glances at her.

  “I’m sorry, dear, hold on just one moment.” She held up a finger, catching the waitress’s attention.

  The waitress was a perky young blonde, perhaps two years older than the two of them. She arrived with a smile.

  “Excuse me, but what the fuck is this?” asked Daniela, holding up her mostly-full plastic cup of soda.

  The waitress seemed taken aback. “So...soda?”

  “It’s diet. I asked for regular. Are you so simple that you can’t distinguish between completely different logos and words on your little machine back there?”

  “I...um...I apologize, miss, and...”

  “Oh, I get it.” Daniela smiled. “This is an intervention on your part. You drink diet, because you’re a cow, and you think every other woman in the world must also. Look at my fucking body. Is it not clear how much better I am than you? Do I look like I need diet soda? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  As she stumbled for an answer, Daniela grabbed the waitress by the elastic band of her skirt and poured her drink inside. The waitress let out a shocked little yelp. Her panties were soaked entirely with the sugary syrup water. The dark liquid ran down her thighs, bleeding into her socks and shoes.

  Paige knew that in other towns, probably someone would call the cops on Daniela. At the very least, she would be told to leave the Corner Diner. Instead, everyone kept eating and drinking, doing their best to look as if they weren’t paying any attention, and the waitress kept her head down, tears starting to brim in her eyes.

  “Fix it,” said Daniela. “Now.”

  Daniela turned back to Paige. “Sorry.
Good help is just so very hard to find, isn’t it? I’ll need to find out her name and make sure Father knows to discipline her family later.”

  And that was why no one dared stand up to Daniela. Her wrath was legendary in the town, and either through the town’s factory or one of many side businesses, her father owned almost every source of income the town had. He doted on her endlessly, and she milked him for it, and his own moral standing was firmly in the gray. Punishing some waitress’s family for a wrong drink order was rather on the low end of the scale of what Paige had been witness to in the past.

  Daniela’s wrath was, incidentally, why Paige was turning to her for advice. Paige had friends who would be more compassionate, probably, and more understanding, but Daniela would catch wind of Paige going to them first, and this was something that Daniela, as Paige’s self-proclaimed BFF, would be highly offended by.

  Depending on the nature of Daniela’s advice, the gorgeous blond might also end up offended by Paige going to ask someone else for advice after being consulted first. It was a tricky prospect all around.

  Tricky prospects like that were why Paige kept so much to herself. No one knew she was still a virgin, for instance, except for Daniela. What Daniela thought was that Paige was saving herself for marriage. The truth of it was a little more complicated—that Paige was saving herself to by ravaged by just the right man.

  And she just didn’t feel Charles was that man, as much as she adored so many things about him.

  Paige struggled to not say something about the overkill that Daniela had performed on the waitress.

  “Good help is hard to find, you’re right. It’s a shame she forced you to do that.”

  “Isn’t it?” Daniela nodded, examining her perfectly manicured nails. “Now, what is it that’s troubling you, dear? You’re feeling trapped, you said?”

  “Yes. It’s just...I do so love Charles, but lately I just can’t get around the fact of just...” she sighed. “He is so very affectionate, and so very sweet, and he consults me on every single little decision that he makes. ‘Should I wear this tie with these shoes? This shirt with these socks?’” As if on cue, her phone buzzed. She picked it up and showed it to Daniela. “He’s left me thirty text messages since I’ve sat down here. And I’ve talked to him about this, Daniela. I have! But he doesn’t seem to get it. That he’s a free, independent man who can do what he wants. I don’t like being treated like some rich hobnobbery bitch who wants to control every aspect of his life. You know? I sometimes feel that I’m marrying him only because he said...”

  Daniela seemed clearly annoyed. “He said what?”

  “That he...that he’d die without me. He was very dramatic. Melodramatic, really.”

  Truth be told, the way Charles acted toward her was about as exact the opposite as she wanted a man in her life to behave as possible. Paige had no interest in being consulted for every last decision.

  Decisions were difficult for her—there were so many variables to think about, so many people she didn’t want to offend or annoy. Society was such a delicate tapestry, woven from eight billion decisions all at once, and sometimes when she thought about adding to that tapestry it just made her mind spin.

  She wanted a man to decide everything for her. She wanted the risk and the trouble of indecision to leave her. If someone could just tell her what to do all the time...if she could just leave her will behind, lock it in a box and entrust to some big-cocked hunk who would fuck her thoughts away and never let her have a moment of panic ever again...

  She had dreams of domestication. Incredibly hot, naughty dreams that she didn’t feel she could share with anyone. They were in her head, all the time, so vibrant and alive that even right there in front of Daniela, as her friend was talking, Paige could see them clearly.

  ...Master was arriving home from work, and Paige was ready for him, kneeling in the thick shag carpet of the entry way, her wet mouth open.

  When her MasterHusband arrived home, he enjoyed a good throatfucking of his best girl. And Paige always wanted to make sure he had what he wanted.

  Her elbow-length silk gloves covered her fingers as they dug into the thick material of the carpet. A black garter, lined with white frills, connected to hot lacy stockings decorated with little patterns of roses and stars. Her corset bra only just kept her massive, shiny tits in line, but each time she giggled or shifted her hair—which was a lot—they threatened to pop out of their constraints.

  Her hair was enormously long, gathering on the ground all around her in a thick, dark mound. It looked like she was kneeling inside a shiny pool of shadow. Each and every lock was thick, fluffy, and impossibly soft. Sometimes, if she was very lucky, her Husband would cum in her hair but not tell her where, and Paige would be allowed to spend an hour or two searching through the thick strands so she could lick out the thick, hot goo.

  For someone that was inside most all of the time, her skin was gloriously tan and shiny, contrasting sharply with the bright, light, Easter greens of her eyes. Paige liked being inside, though. She loved being a kept girl, a slavewife.

  She had given up all that stupid college and career stuff. How could that possibly be important when she had a man at home to take care of and adore?

  Master had built this whole house with his two hands within a week after they had married, and Paige loved every spotless inch of it. It was so right, she thought—him building things, and her taking care of them all day to make sure they looked good. This was how man and slavewife were supposed to be.

  Finally, he opened the door. His hulking, massive frame barely fit inside—even since the day he had built the house, just weeks ago, his muscles had grown. He was gigantic. Paige, kneeling, only barely came up to his thigh, and she was not a short woman.

  She didn't mind the size difference at all. Just looking at the massive flexing of his muscles, the way they rippled and pooled with every little movement, the way they stacked and planked on top of each other, was enough to drive her into orgasm. She knew, because the other day, just for fun, he had instructed her to do it.

  Paige always did what her MasterHusband said.

  After closing the door, he didn't say a word. He just dropped his pants strode over to his slavewife, roughly shoving his thick, hard cock straight down her hot wet throat.

  He didn't like hunching over so much, so he slid one hand up underneath the big handles of her tits, and lifted her up off the ground like she was a toy. Which, of course, she was. Holding her like this, he forcefully fucked her mouth, choking her on his fuckmeat.

  Paige did nothing to interfere. In a way, it was almost low-effort for her—like her Master was just masturbating himself and using Paige as his hand. She was fine with that. A good wifetoy was used however her Husband needed. She just moaned happily as he fucked her mouth like it was a cunt, and stared up worshipfully at the face of her living God. Her decorated hands ran up and down his shirt, which was dirty and layered in sweat from the day's work.

  His balls tensed up, the twin grapefruits slapping into her cock-filled throat. He dropped down to the ground and sprayed into her body. His cum shot directly into her tummy, quickly filling her with pints of her daily meal. Just as quickly, the thick, white load overfilled her body, and he pulled out to spray her down with his cum.

  The startlingly hot cum rushed over her body, plastering her face and tits with its gooey perfection. She came helplessly, constantly, as his cum piled on top of her face and skin. Paige held herself close to her Husband's cock, licking and sucking up any excess that she could possibly gobble down. Cum had puddled up over the thick blanket of her hair. She would have such a delicious time cleaning it later with her tongue. And then maybe she could beg him to get her pregnant...

  Daniela was frowning at her.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said coolly. “You come here, asking for advice, and then you zone out when I offer it to you? Do you think you’re too good for my advice? Do you think what I say doesn’t matter?”
/>
  Oh, no. Oh god, no.

  “Oh, Daniela! I’m so sorry. I was just lost in my head space. I apologize, really I do. That was very unkind, and—”

  Daniela threw up her hands. “Charles is a saint for putting up with a bitch like you. He wants you. He takes care of you. He does everything for you. And you’re mad because he wants your opinion on what he wears? You can’t even listen to me, no wonder you have trouble listening to him!”

  “It’s not just what he wears. That was an example. If you would listen...”

  “Oh, I’ve listened enough, and you didn’t listen at all. I don’t have time for ungrateful bitches who don’t know an incredible man when they see one. A wonderful, perfect man who any other woman would kill to be with. You disgust me, Paige. And you ought to stay with Charles. Because right now, my affection for him and knowing how he feels about you is the only thing keeping you safe.”

  Daniela got up, grabbed her purse, and strutted off toward the exit. On the way, she flipped over the tray of soda that their waitress had fetched. The liters of liquid flew all over the poor girl. No one helped or seemed to care when the waitress broke down on the floor, cleaning up the mess.

  Paige put her gorgeous face in her hands. That had escalated rather...quickly.

  * * * * *

  Joey slid the watch across the picnic blanket toward Daniela. He was staring at her tits, her neck, the tilt of her chin, but of course he was. She was fantastic, and they both knew it. Today, wearing her tiny black jean shorts and one-size-too-small t-shirt, most men she crossed had to stop whatever they were doing to watch her. The curves of her ass were plastered by the fabric of the jeans, and the shirt clung happily to her amazing bosom.

  She enjoyed a man’s gaze on her. It let her know she was in control of him. Men couldn’t help but do what she said when they were looking at her obvious divinity.