25. Beatrix
25
BEATRIX
I stare at the twin, my heart racing in my chest. They’re serious. Oh, fuck… My heart leaps up into my throat as I turn and run in the direction Sagan pointed. There’s a nine foot barbed wire fence only a few feet away, with a decent-sized hole cut through it. I don’t stop to think why I’m bending at the waist and going exactly where they want me to go, I just do it. The thing in my butt twists and sends another unwanted spasm up my spine.
On the other side of the fence, there are three large hangars. I approach them from the back, barely sparing them more than a glance. They’re old buildings, rusted and on their last limbs. There are a few lingering strokes of yellow paint that must’ve once been the logo of the company, but now, I can’t read what it says. It’s clear by the lack of maintenance and the cracks in the pavement surrounding the buildings and trash everywhere that this place has been abandoned.
Still, I scream.
“Help me! Please, somebody help me!”
Rather than try the back doors that are closest to me, I run between two of the hangars. My bare feet slap against the concrete. The burn as they grow raw is pushed to the wayside as I try hard not to panic too much. I need to think. Knowing Thatcher and Sagan, they’re going to be strategic about this. Between trying to catch me and Knox, they’ll have their hands full. The twins will want to keep the game going, but make sure their point is driven home… Whatever that point is. They're going to split up, that’s for sure. But then what? What do they think me and Knox will do once we’re within the boundaries of this stupid game?
My gaze rakes over the hangars and the answer comes swiftly. The guys are going to think we’re going to hide inside one of these things. So, obviously, I shouldn’t do that.
I get to the front of the hangars to find a large runway. At the end of it is another chain link fence. On the other side of that, lights. Is it a house? It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’ll be able to reach it before I’m seen. Plus, I’m butt naked—who would open the door to me? If getting to and hiding in the house isn’t plausible, what can I do now? Running on pure instinct, I veer left. My heart leaps for joy at the sight of a potential hiding place.
I dive behind four large metal barrels, once full of only god knows what, and crouch down.
As I lower myself, the thing in my butt twists, and I gasp at the sensation. My nipples harden painfully, and my pussy flutters. Crap, am I actually enjoying having something up my butt? Cringing, I reach back to feel what’s going on back there. My hand brushes against something soft and furry. I stifle my gasp and look over my shoulder, twisting to see what it could be.
There, protruding from between my cheeks, is a tail . A realistic furry tail attached to some type of plug that keeps it between my cheeks. Heat flares up my neck and into my face. What in the actual fuck? I attempt to tug on it, ready to get rid of it, but the motion only causes my nipples to tighten even more and my breath to catch in my throat. Ok, now is not the time to worry about that . I drop the offending thing and force myself to be quiet.
I don’t have to wait long.
“Twinkle, twinkle, little Starr—'' someone sings. The mocking tune carries far around the hangar before slipping out into the night. It’s Thatcher, I’m sure of it. “How I wonder where you are…”
As his voice trails off, the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I wait a little longer, to see if he pops out. Instead, the night remains quiet and still. I risk peering over the barrels to check the front entrance to the hangar. The massive door is open, but the inside is dark. From here I can’t tell if there is movement inside or not.
Checking in the other direction, I can’t see inside the other open hangars either.
“Whatcha looking at?”
My scream is cut off as Thatcher grabs me by the braids and literally drags me out from behind the barrels. I can’t keep my balance like this. My butt hits the cold, hard ground but Thatcher either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Without the protection of clothes, my bare skin is dragged across the cement and it burns.
“You know, not going into the buildings was a rookie mistake. There are so many more places to hide in there,” Thatcher says conversationally as he drags me a few feet away before letting me go. I glare up at him as he grins down at me.
As he starts to crouch, my foot instinctually moves upward. I surprise both of us by kicking him in the crotch. His howl of pain echoes around us. Without waiting for retaliation, I roll and attempt to scramble to my feet. The plug in my butt sends an inappropriate ripple of pleasure through me as I try to get to my knees, causing my movements to be stiff and awkward. The time it takes to stand costs me.
The sharp blade of Thatcher’s knife comes around and rests dangerously against the front of my neck as he uses his forearm to yank me back into his chest.
“Look at you,” Thatcher practically purrs in my ear. “You’re so much more confident now than you were before we came into your life. I love the woman you’re becoming, Little Sister.”
Thatcher’s knife comes away from my throat and he shoves me away from his body. I stumble. Before I can catch myself, the sting of a blade slicing through the skin of my back causes me to cry out. I arch away from him instinctually, afraid of another strike. I can’t believe he cut me! The thought is horrifying. It doesn’t matter that I can tell it’s a shallow cut. The fact that he did it both terrifies and infuriates me. My hiss of rage drowns out Thatcher’s chuckle.
“Strike one, Little Sister. Two more strikes, and you’re out. Now run .”
I don’t hesitate or look back. My strides are long as I take off toward the middle hangar. Thatcher was right about one thing: clearly staying outside the hangars isn’t in my best interest. I don’t know what’s inside, but if there are more places to hide, then I’ll risk entering.
Quickly, I slide around the threshold of the giant opening where planes were meant to roll in and out of, and immediately hook a right. I keep to the shadows as my eyes dart around the darkness. My heart hammers wildly in my chest. I try to keep my breathing from being too loud, but in the dead silence, it’s practically like a beacon, letting the twins know where I am. Where are they now? What happens after three strikes and the hour isn’t up? My stomach knots, and I force myself to stifle a whimper of fear.
Is this what it’s like to be one of their victims?
The thought makes me uneasy. I’ve been a victim all my life—I won’t be for anyone else. After tonight, I’m going to do my best and figure out the last rule before I break it.
I barely get twenty steps into the building before a hand comes around my throat and yanks me off to the side. My yelp is cut off as I’m thrown up against the hard shell of the hanger. Another hand slaps over my mouth. My eyes widen in alarm at the sight of Knox, who turns to look over his shoulder. A second later, Sagan slinks on by, out of the building and into the darkness. Knox waits a few seconds longer before letting me go.
Leaning up against the wall, I breathe heavily. My heart is hammering so hard in my chest, I’m afraid my ribs will crack. Knox slowly turns to look down at me, his mouth curling up into an amused smile.
“They’re in a shitty mood tonight. Sagan got me pretty fucking good,” he says in a conspiratory whisper.
I can’t see any marks on his body, but maybe he’d gotten a slice across his back like I did.
“Can we hide back in the car?” I suggest.
The pale blue of his eyes is hidden by the shadows around us, but a single glow from a light nearby causes them to twinkle. Like a single star glittering in a black sky. “That would work if I hadn't seen them lock up before I took off.”
“Shoot.” I bite my bottom lip. “What can we do?”
“Well, I know what I want to do,” Knox says.
He doesn’t give me time to ask what that might be. Knox shows me. Bending down, he claims my lips with his. My gasp of surprise is eaten up. That same surprise is consumed by a fiery blaze of desire that boils up under my skin. Knox steps forward, pressing his naked body into me. With a soft moan, I lean into Knox. There’s an excitable energy behind the kiss that shifts the terror I’ve been experiencing to something else. This is all a game to Knox, even if it's his blood that spills. It’s like a fraction of his enjoyment is being transferred to me through our kiss. Slowly, the tension coursing through me eases.
His tongue slips into my mouth, and when mine tentatively reaches for his, Knox moans. A hard shiver that has nothing to do with the cold rushes through me. I press my body closer to his and my arms snake around his waist. Knox’s hard cock, pressed against my stomach, twitches as I let out a soft, heady moan. I wonder if we could just stay like this all night and?—
Something hard hits the side of the hangar, causing a loud bang to rattle the building. The sound echoes all around us. Dust falls from the ceiling, and old pendant light fixtures above us swing in response. Knox and I jump apart, panting heavily as we look around.
“Shit,” he murmurs breathlessly. “They’re trying to get a reaction from you. If you can, keep to the shadows and keep quiet , Shining Starr.”
I smile at the nickname and he notices. His cheeks dimple.
“I’ll lead them away from you.” He swoops down to kiss me once more. This one is brief, and I don’t get a chance to return it before he pulls away and takes a step back. “Don’t let them get three strikes. You’ll be screaming all night if they get their way.”
I grimace, nodding.
“See you in a bit,” Knox says, and takes off with long strides toward the entrance of the hangar. “You-hoo! Boys ! You’re terrible at this game. I would’ve gotten my three strikes by now!”
I watch as he disappears outside. When his voice trails off, I move again. The hangar is relatively empty, at least in the middle of the building. The second floor loft is stacked with boxes and trash. I could probably hide up there, though I’d be screwed if I needed to escape. A few steps are missing to the stairs that head up to the second level. Running back down them if I’m caught might end with me breaking my neck.
Also, the butt plug would be incredibly noticeable then. Right now, as I keep low and to the shadows, I’m hyper aware of the item inside me. Of how it twists and massages my insides, and how it sinks in farther when I bend too low or move too quickly. The hard shudders coursing through my body are a dead giveaway that I’m beginning to both hate and love this thing.
As I slip into the deeper shadows in the back of the building, a light on the other end catches my eye. The orange and yellow glow flickers behind a house made of cardboard. Beer bottles are littered around the small, handcrafted fortress, and soft music drifts toward me.
People!
It’s clearly a homeless encampment judging by the shopping cart full of stuff right beside it and the clothes hanging from a makeshift clothesline, but there is strength in numbers. Maybe I could snag a shirt and pants?
Hope gives me a burst of energy, and I sprint toward the signs of life. I’m still a good distance away. I could get caught between here and there if I’m not careful. The sound of my feet slapping against the cement floor is loud. There’s nothing that can be done about that. There’s no way I’m slowing down now. Not with help within reach.
I skid to a stop just as I get to the side of the fort. Silence comes from the other side. I look over my shoulder. I don’t see either of the twins. Maybe I could snoop for just a moment. If no one is here, maybe I can use this place as protection. Determined to find a way to make this work for me, I step around to stand in front of the small encampment.
I yelp in horror at the sight before me.
There, littered around a small fire, are three bodies. The one nearest me is hunched over, still stuck in their cross-legged position. Their back is facing me, giving me a clear view of the three bloody puncture wounds that have torn through the sweatshirt they were wearing. There’s a puddle of blood beginning to blossom around the body, letting me know this was a recent kill. The other two lay on their sides. Blood gathers beneath them; it’s splattered on the cardboard walls, and the metallic stench of it is thick in this confined space.
Shock has me rooted in place. Who would’ve?—
I don’t have to finish the thought. The answer comes to me swiftly: the twins. Whether it was both or just one of them, I can’t be sure. Judging by how the bodies are positioned, no one even had time to get up and run. They died where they sat.
My stomach rolls. Not because of what’s before me. For some reason, the gruesome sight doesn’t repulse me like it should. The only reason fear spikes through me is because I now know what happens when you kill someone. The twins are bound to be blood drunk. That won't bode well for me. These people are already dead, but I can still save myself.
The flash of bright, hot pain slides diagonally across my back before I can shake the shock of the scene before me away. I cry out, stumbling forward into the puddle of blood. A hand grips my wrist and jerks me back. The movement prevents me from tumbling over the hunched body before me. It also pulls me back into a warm, solid wall of muscle. An arm wraps around my waist, pinning my arms to my sides.
“Hello, pretty Little Viper. Is it necessary for me to let you know that this is strike two? Or do you think you’re fine keeping track on your own?”
My heart comes to a grinding halt. Cold fear shoots through me. It mixes with a billowing heat that boils up from between my legs. The conflicting temperatures collide, and I’m reeling from it all. Tears gather in my eyes as too many emotions assault me.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I choke out, my voice a soft whimper. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Poor, Little Viper, don’t tell me you’re not having fun?” The dark laughter he lets out is short-lived, but no less terrifying. The deep, rusty noise causes the hair on my body to stand straight up. My heart slams in my chest and my blood grows cold. “I know I am.”
Sagan’s other hand reaches out, and I start to shake my head as he grabs hold of the tail. My body stiffens as I wait for him to wrench it out and the pain that will undoubtedly follow. Instead, he twists it. The plug inside me twists too, and I can’t stop from crying out at the spike of unwanted pleasure that follows it. Sagan’s body, pressed tight against mine, trembles as he laughs again.
“ Our brother has a wonderful sense of humor, doesn’t he? But he forgot something. Too eager to see you run, he forgot to do one thing before letting you go.”
Suddenly, the plug in my butt starts to vibrate, having been turned on by some type of switch attached to it. My screech echoes around the hangar as my body convulses. Oh god. My core clenches around nothing, already leaking with arousal from the exquisite sensation this stupid toy has elicited.
“There we go, much better. Now the game has gotten good.” Sagan’s hand slides around to my front where he cups my mound. The heat from his hand is undeniable.
“Turn it off, turn it off!” I cry out. I try to kick and elbow him, but I’m melting. The vibrations that are rattling inside me feel good. Too damn good. It’s beginning to overpower the fear. But I need that fear—and the adrenaline it brings—to keep me moving.
Sagan ignores my request. His fingers slide through my wet slit, sending every nerve-ending there up in flames. I choke on a groan.
“No,” I whimper, desperate to break free.
Sagan’s fingers dive into my core. My body is ready for him. The slick, hot arousal dripping from me is lubricant for his fingers. Two slide inside me with an embarrassing sloshing noise. My back arches into Sagan as I lose the ability to breathe. The Hunt twin behind me hums in approval.
“Doesn’t this feel right, Little Viper? You, me, and death at our feet. It’s poetic, isn't it?” he murmurs into my ear as his fingers scissor and twist inside me.
My hips buck, and I tell myself it’s not to seek more friction but to get him out of me. My knees wobble as he caresses my insides, working my body up with such ease that it’s alarming.
“Say it, Little Viper,” Sagan growls. His thumb brushes over my clit, and I nearly fall apart right there. I fight the need to cum, focusing on the bodies before me. But my body shivers hard and my breathing comes in short gasps, betraying me. “Tell me you agree.”
“Yes,” I groan. “Yes, sir. This feels so good. So right.”
Sagan buries his face in the crook of my neck and groans. I echo it as his fingers pump in and out of me. My breathless gasps are loud. Surely Thatcher will find us here and I’ll be royally screwed. Though, being screwed by the twins doesn’t sound so terrible.
Neither the idea of being caught by my other stepbrother, or the ugly sight before me is enough to stop the coiling of tension between my legs. My nipples strain in the cold air as I groan again.
“Imagine if you had killed your pastor friend and saw him at your feet like this. Imagine having been able to exact revenge , Little Viper. He would have gotten what was coming to him and it wouldn’t have been his god doling out justice. It would have been you. ”
“What does any of this have to do with him?” I ask, my mind piecing the picture of his death together, cutting through the heavy fog of desire.
Sagan holds me closer. He growls against my neck, the sound promising violence and death.
“Everything ,” he snarls.
It’s not his words that cause my body to spasm and clench down around his fingers. My wail as I come undone under his touch has nothing to do with picturing Pastor Michaels dead at my feet, resting in a pool of his own blood. It’s the toy in my ass and his fingers. That’s it. Nothing more.
“That’s right, Little Viper. Cum hard for me.”
My knees buckle as my body convulses, but Sagan’s arm keeps me upright. My breathless cries as the orgasm doesn’t recede right away are getting louder. Who gets off to this? Not me. This isn’t me. I can’t be doing this.
Just when I think the pleasure will stop rippling through me, another orgasm takes its place as Sagan presses his hips against the plug in my ass. I scream, tears spilling down my cheeks. I can’t stop the flood of arousal that spills out of me. Sagan groans—the sound pained and soft.
“Oh how you adore being mine,” he mutters. “You always show me just how much you enjoy my touch. The feeling is mutual, Little Viper.”
As my body goes lax, I have to lean against Sagan or risk falling to my knees into the blood that’s spilling slowly toward us. I stare at the crimson liquid at our feet. This game, or rather punishment , is demented. It needs to end, but how can I get it to stop?
Thatcher mentioned rules. That this whole night was because I broke one. But what was the rule? How will I know not to do it in the future if… Wait a second. I blink rapidly, dispelling the last of the desire fogging my mind. Thinking back, I replay what Thatcher said at the car before setting me loose. None of it made sense then, but adding Sagan’s comment about Pastor Michaels, remembering the twins’ expression as they’d come home from the funeral service—I gasp softly as realization hits me.
They know . Thatcher and Sagan must’ve found out about how Pastor Michaels wronged me and they’ve been waiting for me to… to what? Talk about it? That has to be it. Fine. I’ll give them what they want, even if that means my newly found pride takes a beating for it. But first…
My elbow collides with Sagan’s side. I think the move takes him more by surprise than it hurts him because as he hisses and releases me, he doesn’t double over. No matter. I didn’t need him to. I just needed a second to break away. My feet fly over the smooth concrete floor as I race for the front of the hangar. As I burst out into the night, I scream out for the brother in charge of this punishment.
“Thatcher!”
I slow to a halt a few yards away from the building I emerged from, spin around, looking for my stepbrother in the dark.
“Thatcher! Please, I’m sorry! I’ll talk to you. I’ll tell you everything!”
My eyes gloss over the buildings, then around the property as I wait. I call out again, promising that I’ll be good.
Movement between two hangars causes me to freeze.
Thatcher saunters out of the darkness, hands in his pockets and a smile splayed across his face. I don’t wait for him to come to me. Instead, I hurry to him. When I’m only a few feet away, I drop to my knees—ignoring the sting as they scrape against the rough pavement—and clasp my hands together in front of me.
“Please, make this stop. I’ll tell you everything.” Just thinking about the pastor makes tears gather in my eyes. I push through the heartache blossoming up in my chest and continue. “He was supposed to be my friend, Thatcher. Pastor Michaels was always there when I needed him. Even though I don’t believe in his god, I put my faith in him . He always seemed so good. It’s why I didn’t tell him about Trevor—I couldn’t be the one to hurt my friend with the news. But when he told me that he knew about what Trevor did, believed his son’s lies, and wanted me to pretend that it was all some misunderstanding because he didn’t want…” My chest heaves as a heavy sob erupts and the tears spill down. “Between being mortified and disgusted with myself, I just wanted to bury the whole thing and never deal with it again. And honestly, it felt like I’d just lost the only person who cared about me. But now I realize that’s not the case. I have you, Sagan, and Knox. I’m sorry I didn’t share any of this with you. From now on, I’ll tell you everything all the time.”
There, I’ve given Thatcher everything. As much as it pained me to do it, saying the words out loud relieved some of the heavy pressure bearing down on me.
I stare up at Thatcher through my tears, imploring him to understand my hurt. He says nothing. My stepbrother simply stares down at me, that smile locked firmly in place. This was his idea, his game. It’s Thatcher that gets to call an end to it. But when he doesn’t and simply stares, my stomach drops.
Was this the wrong move? Did I get it wrong? Was this not why he’s upset, and I’m being punished? Judging by his unmoved expression, I must’ve misread the clues. Thatcher’s punishment isn’t over yet. I have more suffering to do, I guess. My shoulders sag in defeat and my chin drops to my chest.
“No, no, look up at me, Little Sister.”
I can’t stop the flinch that rushes through me as I brace myself for the blade of his knife to slice through me before lifting my gaze.
“You could’ve avoided all of this if you had just followed the rules,” Thatcher points out.
If I had known the rules, I would’ve followed them. I don’t say this though. The point of these games is for me to figure them out. So, I nod.
“I realize that now. I’m sorry, Thatcher.”
“Our rules are put in place to protect us from ourselves and from the world. If we don’t know what state your thoughts and emotions are in, how can we know you’ll act accordingly in a high-stakes situation where all our lives might be on the line?” Thatcher asks, gravely. “And how will we know when you need help, Little Sister, or how to give you what you need, if you don’t speak up? Your feelings, thoughts, desires… We need to know them all, Beatrix. You’ll never get in trouble by speaking up.”
Again, I nod. “I’ll be better, I promise.”
“I know you will be. You always exceed my expectations, and I love that about you,” Thatcher coos. “Now, let’s see how well you did.” He pulls out his phone. “You figured it out with fifteen minutes to spare. Clever girl.”
“Thank you for taking the time to teach me what it means to be in a real family, Big Brother.”
Thatcher leans down to plant a kiss on my forehead. “Anytime. Now, let’s go back to the car, get that plug out of you, and get you some clothes.”