She Was Taken Like a Secret
She surrendered not in weakness, but in worship—taken by force, remade by fire.
She knelt between them, not in fear, but in offering— a vessel poured open, eager to be claimed. Their hands were commands, not questions. Their touch, a language she didn’t speak, but understood with every breathless shiver. One gripped her throat, tilting her chin like a chalice; the other anchored her hips, his strength a silent promise— you are ours. She didn’t ask. She didn’t need to. The air itself held consent, thi...