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I am trembling against Bryn. I suppose I must be more afraid than I imagined.
“I can send you somewhere safer,” he says, running his hand over my hair in a soft caress.
“While you beat the hell out of my brother day and night? I have to keep Jonah safe.”
“Jonah knows where he belongs,” he says. I do not like the way he says it. There is something terrible and dark about it.
“Where does Jonah belong?”
“Like his namesake, he is destined for deep, dark places.”
“You mean Hell?” I stiffen and pull away. “Bryn, if you hurt Jonah…”
Bryn allows himself something like a smile. “You are so concerned about him when he has not a care in the world for you. He is sleeping soundly in his bedroom, head full of nonsense, while you walk the halls above Hades and fret for your combined fates.”
“I’m not afraid to stay here.”
It’s my turn to go off topic. I know Jonah doesn’t care about me the way I care about him. He's always been reckless and shallow. I’ve always been concerned and caring. Our roles were set in the womb.
“They will come for you here," he says. “This is the last place on the great planet you should be.”
“I am not afraid.”
"Because your frontal cortex hasn’t fully developed,” he replies. "The young do not understand fear.”
“I’m not that young.”
“You’re not even close to twenty-five yet, and that's the earliest you're likely to be burdened with a fully developed brain. For now, you can revel in the mush in the front of your skull and imagine that your natural recklessness is bravery.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t know what to do at all. I am no longer certain where my room is, or where I am. The only thing I really know is where he is. In front of me. Smoldering. Looking at me with an intense gaze.
“Kneel,” he intones. I find myself sinking to my knees, compelled by the sheer dominance and force of his personality.
He puts his hand on my head and the screaming goes quiet. It’s strange, but I almost miss it. Now there’s only silence and my own filthy thoughts.
“I will ask for your obedience in this house, and you will give it, not because I will punish you if you do not. I can promise you punishment either way. You will obey me because in the very core of your being, the hot little center of you that travels from your heart to your cunt, you know that I own you. You’ve known it from the moment you first looked into my eyes and almost came where you stood.”
How does he know? How is he so certain about what he evokes in me? And does he know the other parts too? The loathing? Or is he like most men, projecting his desire into the mind of those he desires?
“Open your mouth.”
I can barely believe what I have heard, but I do as I am told, just as he told me I would. My lips part and his zipper goes down. What emerges from the folds of his pants is monstrously large and absolutely turgid. He’s been circumcised. The head of his cock throbs with its own intellect and makes its way toward my face in a forceful stroke.
His cock slides between my lips, the salt and the slight tang of man coating my tongue instantly. His hand is curled around under my chin and jaw, holding me like my head is some kind of fuck-tool. He urges his hips forward, pushing the thick head of his cock all the way to the back of my throat. He holds it there, looking down at me with those unholy dark eyes that seem to know everything. Nothing is hidden from him. Not my twisted desires, and not the soaked gusset of my underwear. I have never been this wet before. I can feel my need making my thighs sticky.
“Reach down,” he orders. “Put your hand inside your panties and rub that wet little bud for me.”
Being told what to do sends frissons of heightened excitement through me before I even start to obey. When I feel my fingers inside my panties, the sensation is more exquisite and intense than usual. Masturbating alone is nothing compared to masturbating in front of Father Bryn, doing it at his command.
He fucks my mouth and I rub myself. I’m drooling around his dick, utterly uninhibited. I barely even register that we are out in public, an open hall where anybody could chance across us and see the wanton display I’m making with my fingers, stretching the fabric of my underwear to allow me to toy with my hungry pussy.
“Come for me, pretty one," he urges. “Orgasm there on the floor, my cock in your sweet mouth, your pussy drenching your fingers. Show me what a filthy little wench you are, how much you yearn to be defiled.”
