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He chuckles devilishly, his light yet rough finger tips swaying over my folds. “Try that again, pet, and this time don’t lie to me.” His thumb finds my swollen nub as he presses on it. “Did he …” He circles his thumb once, eyes coming up to meet mine. His grey stormy eyes have now been replaced with dark, demonic smoke. I’m a bad girl if I want this man, but I’m a good girl. I’ve never done wrong in my life, but the way he has his hands on me and his eyes glued to mine make a small part of myself want to do very bad things. Things that I know will make me feel good. My internal fight kicks in as his shoulders come under my knees and his face drops between my thighs, lips skimming over my flesh, traveling up towards my lady part. My eyes snap open at the sudden contact and my heart rate pounds through me. “Make you …” he goes on, his tongue slithering over my skin, paving the way to my core. “Come?” he finally finishes before his warm mouth covers my clit.
His tongue darts out of his mouth slowly as he flicks the tip of it over my clit. A loud muffled scream rips out of me before I can stop it and it wasn’t a lady-like scream; it was downright embarrassing, but the deep roar that quivers over my heat turns off all thoughts. This feels good. He swirls my clit with his tongue, and my eyes shut out, blocking out everything in view. Tears prick the corner of my eyes as my mind attempts to fight off the very thing my body wants. One finger presses inside of me as he continues to lick, suck, and ravish me. It’s all too much. A build begins to climb deep inside, my hips lifting to meet his mouth involuntarily and a growl vibrating against my clit. His licking pauses as his finger continues to stroke inside of my walls. Every time his finger rubs, it hits a soft cushion that sends bolts of pleasure flashing through my veins.
“Look at me, pet.”
I want to scream in frustration as sweat beads on my forehead. I want this. I need to have more. No, you don’t. Tears descend from my eyes as the climb my body is experiencing deepens. A sharp pinch clamps my inner thigh and I yelp out in surprise, yet his strokes continue.
“Did you bite me?” I ask breathlessly, my eyes rolling to the back of my head and my hips rising to meet his fingers desperately. I need his mouth back down there, and I need it now.
“This is nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you come my day,” his stroking continues. “I’m going to make you come until you’re within an inch of your life, and then, when you’re begging me to stop, that you can’t possibly take any more, I’ll have you gushing down my throat once more. I’ll rub my cock all over your wet slit until you fucking beg me to fuck you filthy, pet. And I will. I will fuck you. I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t know what fucking life you’re living. I’ll fuck the damn holy out of you and make you fucking scream to the angels as you enjoy it.” Pausing, he brings his mouth back down to my clit, blowing softly over my now swollen and pleading nub until I buck off the ground shamelessly. “I’ll fucking ruin you, pet. I’ll fuck every single inch of your flawless skin and corrupt it.” His mouth drops to my clit and I scream out again at finally feeling what I’ve wanted, what I’ve craved. Chains shatter behind my shut lids as my limbs jolt and my entire body convulses from the euphoric rapture which has exploded throughout me.
He stands to his feet as I lay there with my back to the cold concrete floor. He points to the bucket as I keep my eyes fixed on the ceiling and the waves of the aftershock of whatever just happened come through me. “That… is what it’s like to come, pet. Don’t fucking lie to me again.” He walks back out of the barred cell and I bring my legs up to my chest, clutching them protectively around myself. What just happened? What’s happening? What’s going on? Why am I slowly losing myself to these people? I’m weak.
I’ve sinned. I’m bad. I’ve let the darkness penetrate my existence and I’ve relished in it.
TRIPP “Day 3”
My knee jiggles under the heavy wooden table. To the left, I catch Joker watching me carefully. “Why are you jittery?” His eyes narrow in a way that’s suspicious and I instantly begin to imagine what it would be like if I tore them from their sockets.
“I’m not.” My jaw clenches as my face tilts to the side and I drag my eyes over his body, causing him to shuffle in his seat. Pulling out a cigarette from his hoodie pocket, he places it into his mouth while keeping his eyes on me. The flame flicks from his zippo as I watch him inhale the thick cloud of smoke.
“Angel has her today. What’s your take on her, man? You’ve said nothing about her while everyone else is raving about her.” He flicks the ash from his cigarette and I absently watch as it slowly free falls through the air before landing on the concrete floor.
“Have I ever raved about any girl that has walked through these doors?” I reply, my tone bored. “She’s just another case we have to work, J. I don’t give a fuck about anything else.”
The door that leads down to the dungeon opens and closes from the other side of the room as Soulless walks through towards the kitchen, taking his mask off his face and placing it on top of the table. We’re from different walks of life. Joker, who wears the red ghost mask, is agent 306. He was born here, like me, but just in a different rank. Soulless, who wears the black mask, is agent 166. A recruit. He was blacklisted at age twelve after Kurr read his medical report after his parents checked him into a psych ward. He’s not all there in the head, but he’s a fucking great asset to have. White mask is Angel. His agent number is 246, and he has family history with The Army. Blue mask is Viking, or just King. He’s agent 222. And then there’s Royal who wears the gold mask. He’s agent 211. Again, in for family. This is who we are, all of us, but the majority of our time is spent outside of these walls. It’s why we wear the masks. Kurr knew a long time ago that this was how he wanted to play it. But the names we go by are the only names we’re allowed to know of each other. It’s kind of like a nine-to-five job except for Joker, who lives here. We all have our own cabins that sit at the back of the main house for when we are around just to keep all the shit we need.
“She fucking purrs,” Soulless chuckles, running his fingers through his dark hair.
“Purrs?” Joker teases, leaning back in his chair. “Man, no. You ain’t hitting it right. She fucking roared for me.”
My eyes shot back to Joker as I stifle back a growl.
Pushing my chair back, I stand to all my six foot five inches. “Where’s Angel?”
Their smiles pause as they both bring their eyes up to mine. Joker sucks on his cancer stick and Soulless smirks at me.
“He’s warming up. He has some fucking games planned for that girl.”
Amateurs, they’re all fucking amateurs. Joker is the youngest out of us all. Kurr had us strategically picked to be young and fit. We all have a strict workout and food intake schedule as well. King is the oldest at thirty-six. I walk to the metal door and slide it open before walking out to find Kurr.
MILLIE
The cell door opens with a jolt and I scoot towards the concrete wall, pulling my knees up to my chest while the little hairs on my arms come to life. It’s day three. Who was day three?
A shadow crosses the room covered in a white cloak and my hand flies up to my mouth to stifle my sob. He places something onto the old stained mattress that lays in the corner and then turns to face me, his expression remaining stoic, covered by the rim of his white hood, but the glow from his white mask blinding. His mask is all white, except for a single red tear drop which sits under his eye.
He points to the pile of clothes he just placed on the mattress. “Get dressed.” His voice is dominating, yet it isn’t rough like Tripp’s. It isn’t playful like Joker, either. It somehow falls in the middle.
I push up to my feet, clutching the blanket in my hand, and walk towards the mattress. His chest rises and falls under the thick cotton of his white cloak-like-jersey as his body stands quiet, waiting, watching like a predator studying his prey. I avert my eyes down to the bed and collect the fish net stockings, tight black underwear—which, I’m guessing, go over the top of the stockings—and a little black lace bra. When I think I have everything that I’ll be needing, a white bundle catches my eye that is sitting under the bra. Skimming my fingertips over the prickling silk of feathers, my eyes close softly.
“Wings?” I ask, gently picking them up and slipping my arms through the loops.
His silence is deafening and uncomfortable, so I decide to quickly get changed. After being naked for almost twenty-four hours, I’ll welcome anything that passes as clothing. Even if they don’t.
He doesn’t answer. The only sound that breaks through is the zipping of him undoing his hoodie. Swallowing, I step into the stockings, one foot at a time, before getting into the little black lace underwear. I shuffle on the bra just as his hoodie drops to the ground and I’m awarded with a body any model would worship. His loose dark denim jeans hang off him, displaying the rim of his Calvin Klein briefs which are strapped around his waist.
“Take your hair out.” He unhooks his belt buckle and drops it to the floor.
