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Looking up, I search for an excuse. I know I’m running out of time, and she won’t quit asking. “I needed to use it to reach the top shelf.”
She looks me up and down. “Hmm.”
I pull the towel tighter around myself. Surely, she won’t tell me to remove it and bend over. Could you imagine if she knew I just uncuffed myself? It would just add to her thoughts that I’m a sex addict and make for very awkward therapist sessions.
“Get ready. We’re leaving in thirteen minutes now.” She grabs the chair and pulls it from the closet, slamming the door shut.
I let out a shaky breath and drop to my knees once more. My body trembles, and my ass clenches around the plug.Jesus!
* * *
“Ready?”my mother calls out, entering my room once more exactly thirteen minutes later.
“Yeah,” I answer and exit. I don’t even grab my cell. I have nowhere to put it or any use for it tonight.
“Ashtyn—”
“Can we not do this, Mother?” I say as she gets on the highway. “I’m not in the mood.”
She lets out a huff but thankfully remains silent. Thirty minutes later, we’re pulling up to Carnage.
The Lords have a cathedral in the middle of nowhere where they perform all their sick and twisted rituals, but Carnage also has one. It’s a smaller version. This is where they perform theirs. I guess I can thank God because not all the Lords will watch me get fucked for the first time. Just a select few. Most of the Lords who attend Barrington will be at the other location tonight.
My mother brings the vehicle to a stop in the roundabout and turns off the car. “Ashtyn…”
“Goodbye, Mother.” I mean it in more ways than one. I’m aware that I may never see her again.
I get out and slam the door shut. We’ve never had a close relationship, so I’m not sure why she seems to care what happens to me now. She knew when she got pregnant that she might have a daughter, and this would one day happen.
As I walk up the steps, my legs shake in my six-inch heels. I run my sweaty hands down my bare thighs, taking in a deep breath.
This is it. They tell us from a young age that this is what we’re made for—to serve a Lord. We should feel privileged to be a chosen. I don’t feel that way. Do I want Saint? Yes. But I want him more than someone who I know has to devote his life to a secret society that thinks I’m worthless.
I’ve seen Lords drop their chosens, or their wives for the Lords without thought. They don’t marry for love. They marry for convenience. To merge names that will give them more power. And then the Lady is supposed to give them children. A son to rule the world or a daughter who will one day serve.
The sad part is that I would give Saint a child and that makes me a sick person knowing what they’re born into. I would expect my kids to hate me as I hate my parents.
As I enter the double doors, a man stands in a tuxedo. He’s been helping Carnage out for years. I can only imagine some of the shit he’s seen.
“Hello, miss.” He nods to me as if I haven’t known him my whole life.
“Hello, Jessie,” I whisper.
“This way, ma’am. They’re waiting for you.”
My heels clap on the floor as I follow him to the elevator and up to the fifth floor. My legs shake and my breathing accelerates as he comes up to another set of double doors. They’re stained glass with black roses and skulls all over them. They’d be beautiful if not for the meaning.
He pushes them open, and I wish I’d had more to drink as I enter. Six rows deep of pews are full of Lords. They all face forward, dressed in black cloaks, and their signature masks cover their faces. The thought that my father and brother are among them makes me sick to my stomach.
The lights are dimmer, and candles are placed on sconces along the back wall, framing a stained glass window. It’s not for religious purposes. The Lords don’t gather here to worship any god other than themselves. Instead, the window has a black spade in the center with flames around it as if giving it the image it’s on fire. The numbers 666 are written across the bottom. A large Lords altar is at the front of the room.
The box that was on my bed three weeks ago is now in the center of the altar. I make my way down the aisle, and a man stands next to it. It’s Saint, but I can’t see his face.
He turns to open the box and pulls out the cuffs, laying them out on the surface. I come to a stop, and his voice commands. “Undress.”
This is the part of what he said he was going to do to humiliate me. We have to willingly give ourselves to our Lord. Even though we never really had a choice.
I reach down, grab the hem of my dress, and pull it up and over my head, exposing my body to the room. I did as I was told and wore nothing underneath.
