Trey
Present Day
The moans in my dreams sound real, as does the wetness coating my shaft. There’s just one difference. I’m not fucking India in a pitch-black butler’s pantry as my deranged mind has once a week for the past six years. I’m being fucked, from above, by a whore who should know better than to serve herself a generous helping of the monster dick memories of my past instigate.
I didn’t get my cock pierced solely for the women I fuck without knowing their names or their life history. They’re to remind me of the tightness of India’s cunt, and the way it rippled around me when she moaned into the cool night air. They are for the coolness of my veins when I watched her blood drain from her body and heard the chilliness of her screams. They’re so I’ll always feel pain even when I’m being pleasured.
They arenotfor dirty little whores who don’t understand a drug-fueled gangbang isn’t an open invitation to ride my cock anytime she feels like it.
“You good?” I ask, gripping her hip firm enough to mark. She’s got a nice rack, super flat stomach, and an ass with plenty of bounce, but she’s like every other whore in this compound. There’s nothing unique about her. Not even her scent is one-of-a-kind.
The whore whose name I’ll forget within a second of coming scrapes her teeth over her lower lip before she nods. We’ve got an audience. She doesn’t care. Hell, she looks hopeful one of my brothers will come over and join us like they did last night.
They won’t.
Not if they know what’s good for them.
I’m all for fucking, have been since I was sixteen, however, this shit doesn’t fly with me.
If I want to fuck you, you’ll be the first to know. If I don’t, you sure as fuck don’t get to take yourself for a ride on my cock and expect me to be okay with it.
The whore releases her lip with a moan before she drops her eyes to mine. They’re icy and blue and have my veins cooling even more than her clit grinding against the stainless steel bar in my pubis. She’s being super greedy today, acting as if the six studs pierced in my shaft aren’t enough to get her off, and don’t get me started on my length and girth, or my mood will grow even more pissy. If she hadn’t been run through the mill last night, my cock would be wearing as much blood now as the smears I washed off in the shower after stealing India’s virginity. Guaranteed.
“It feels so good, baby.”
“Is that right?” When she nods for the second time, her moans doubling in appreciation of the British accent I’ve yet to get rid of even being surrounded by Russians twenty-four-seven for the past three years, I twist my lips. “I think this would feel better.”
Since she’s as thin as a rake, I lift her off my cock without so much of a strain to my pinkie. When I stand to my feet to bend her over the couch in the middle of the compound teeming with ruthless men and half-dressed whores, she perches her ass high in the air, praying I’m about to stretch her puckered hole as well as my cock did her pussy.
I’m tempted, but I am also frustrated, so her begging ass will have to wait.
“Open wide. If you graze me with your teeth, my hand will get friendly with your cheek.” It dawns on me that my threat would be better suited for another whore when she shudders at the prospect of being hit. There are a handful of girls at Clarks who like being slapped around. I usually steer clear of them. Wife-beating isn’t my kink.
Her moan when I ram my cock to the back of her throat pulls my balls in close to my body. Even in my pissy mood, I can admit her tongue dragging over the curved barbell piercings in my shaft feels good.
Her dedicated attention to my cock deviates my plans for a few minutes. Not long enough for me to forget my purpose, but long enough I forget there are the eyes of over two dozen men on me and my cock.
Fortunately for all involved, I don’t get stage fright.
After another handful of minutes, I remove my cock from the whore’s mouth, give it two good pumps, then watch cum squirt out of my crown. It lands on her lips, cheek, and covers a good portion of her right eye.
“Nuh-uh,” I growl out on a moan when her tongue attempts to lick up the droplets of spawn coating her lips. Her tongue will never reach the murky white substance on her cheek and eye, but when I teach a whore a lesson, I do it the right way. “You want to be a whore, so I’m gonna treat you like one.”
Careful not to trip on my jeans huddled around my ankles, I take a step back before yanking the rigid material up my tattooed thighs. Once I have my still-throbbing cock tucked away, I nudge my head to the parking lot at the back of Clarks. “It’s late, so you better get home before your daddy gets worried about you.”
Although shocked at my dismissal, especially since its barely noon, the blonde dips her chin before her hands dart up to clear away the mess on her face. “Nuh-uh,” I repeat, louder this time. “You’re a whore, remember? It’s about time your daddy learns of your career aspirations.”
Smiling, I smear in the blobs of cum that’ll most likely fall when she stands before shifting on my feet to face August, or Eight as he prefers us to call him. He’s a newbie to Nikolai’s crew, so he’s the best one to free from the bunkers while we wait for an update from Nikolai on where we’re going next.
He’s preparing to send his girl back to Hopeton, aware a war is about to begin. If I were smart, I would have done the same thing with India. Alas, back then, I was only twenty-two. I had no clue how fucked-up this world is, much less the people whothinkthey run it.
“Follow her home. If she touches her face at all during the commute, revoke her privileges to Clarks.” The whore gasps in a sharp breath. It’s barely heard over the chuckle of Nikolai’s men.
Nikolai is my brother in arms. He took me in when my wish to make India mine almost caused my demise. He’s Russian, fucking filthy, and hates the man who raised him with every fiber of his being.
I want to say I had the same issues with my father. Regretfully, it was the respect I had for him that got him killed. Have you ever thought about who you’d choose if forced to pick between the woman who made you realize you had a heart in your chest and the man who gave you life?
It wouldn’t be an easy decision for the strongest man to make, much less one who had a gun held to his head, and a threat to kill them both if you didn’t pick one.
