Page 111 of Circus From Hell

“You want me to fuck her?” I shout, and I turn my head to look at the de facto leader of the group. “The muzzle comes off.”

If anyone should be wearing a muzzle here, it’s Karma. She’s the cannibal, after all, with razor-sharp teeth. They want me in a muzzle so they have another reason to liken me to a dog.

Arlo steps forward and pulls away the entrapment, earning glares from Soren and Micha, but he ignores them and watches Karma. He cares more about her pleasure than he does about their mockery of me.

I don’t bother thanking him. I grab Karma’s face with one hand and wrap my arm around her waist with the other, the tip of my cocks pressing to her entrance.

“Come on, Karma. Beg to be double-stuffed. Let me hear you sing.”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t fuck me right now.”

I laugh in her ear. “You can’t touch me right now, dead girl. So say pretty please, and I’ll fill you in one go.”

I can hear her sharp teeth grinding together before she relents and says, “Pretty please.”

“I love training you,” I taunt before rewarding her. She stretches around me instantly as I thrust forward. Anyone else would scream out in pain—I’m reminded of when Karma herself did that—and fight me, but Karma’s moan is loud and exquisite. Because she feels no pain. Because she has no soul. “There it is. My beautiful cunt. All three of them can’t fuck you like I can.”

The constant pound in my head dulls; it confirms that our previous time in the forest wasn’t a façade, wasn’t a mix of the drugs and alcohol and pussy. It is Karma. Truly Karma. She numbs, dulls, fixes.

“You fix me,” I grunt in her ear, adoring how she can’t make noise with how hard I use her. The sound of us echoes around the room, and I get sick satisfaction knowing three men are watching me use and abuse their beloved woman, restrained in her own silk. “You’re better than any alcohol, any drug, any painkiller. You are my resolution, and that is dangerous. You are dangerous. This pussy is dangerous.”

“You ssstill can’t kill me,” she whispers, eyes trained on someone behind her. She’s watching them, but she’s being ruined by me.

“When I’m in this pussy, I don’t want to. That dog collar around your throat is the only thing protecting you. My only reminder that you belong to Kreo.”

She’s been acting against him, doing everything she knows she’s not allowed to, but with that collar on, she’s still his.

“It’s not a dog collar,” she spits, but her defensiveness proves she knows damn well it is.

Kreo controls us all. He owns us all.

He picked us up, saved us from a life of anguish and uselessness. For that, we have him to thank.

“Arlo,” she calls out quietly, and he’s immediately by her side.

“Yes, Karma?”

“Take it off.”

I stop, stilling inside her at the hilts of both cocks, staring down with wide, angry eyes.

I can’t look away as Arlo tentatively brings his hands up, and Karma’s evil orbs never leave mine, watching my reaction intently. I can’t school my face as the black material falls open, and Arlo drags it away, throwing it somewhere on the floor like it’s nothing. I can’t move, shocked to my core, staring at the stitches in a line that circle her neck and keep her head attached to her body.

She’s committed the final act of defiance against Kreo.

“What did you just do?” I whisper, and she smirks.

“I’m never putting it back on. Kreo can’t control me anymore.”

“He’s your owner.”

She shakes her head. “He’s my creator. I am the showgirl. That’s it.”

Arlo swipes the back of his hand across her cheek, gazing across her face with soft pride.

But I’m furious.

My hand moves from her pigtail to her throat. “He made you, you ungrateful thing. You belong to him.”