chapter twelve #3
Keeping my eyes on his back, I ignore the sneering hisses of bitch, traitor, puta, cochina.
I don’t want to see who’s calling me those names, let alone if they are saying those things while sporting one of my tattoos.
Not that I’d be surprised. I did a lot of ink on the men and women of this club.
They don’t know the full story, and definitely not Kandie and my side of the events.
Not being able to blame them does not make enduring this any easier.
Snake leads me onto the dais. The clinking chain’s links are the only noise heard above the low hum of the music.
Taking a throne-like chair, they replaced Angel’s with while he’s away with his family. Snake tightens the chain, drawing me in, wrapping it in tight coils around his fist.
“On your fucking knees, Saban.” He jerks the links, propelling me to the floor at his feet.
My locs fall from its topknot like a curtain around me.
“Face them.” He instructs creating a little slack in the link, causing them to clink and jingle.
Turning, I face the people who think I betrayed them. There is a mix of emotions as I look on to the people I’ve known most of my life. Anger, hate, sorrow and even dread greet me as I look upon each countenance.
Wanting to speak, I turn back to Snake, who gives an imperceptible shake of his head.
“Saban Toussaint, you have betrayed el Diablo, the people who gave you succor and protection for over ten years. Through your actions, you put this MC in peril as well as the livelihoods of the men and women who work for Cruz Enterprises. You fled rather than face what you wrought, leaving two communities that were once allies at war. Your punishment will be public. Once your subjugation is complete, you will remain under my care and supervision until the MC deems your penance paid.” The crowd shifts at his words, and I see edges of what I haven’t before — something is on the stage where Angel’s motorcycle sat the night he claimed Easy on top of it.
“Up.” He commands. Chain tightening as I rise, I follow the pull right over his knees.
My breasts are squeezed tight against his knees.
He sweeps my locs over to the side so everyone can see my face — my mortification.
The thought of people witnessing my punishment results in a response I did not know I’d feel — a tight, hard pulse low in my sugarcake.
My heart is beating so hard, and I can feel it racing against his knees.
“Please, no.” Words come trembling, spilling out of my mouth, knowing what my body did the last few times he did this. How slick and ready I was for him. Even begging, despite how mad I was at him. How I hated him and myself afterward as I yearned for him, wanting more of his harshness.
“Now everyone gets to see how I own you. They get to see why you won’t ever betray the MC again. I get to save your life and make you mine.” He says in Haitian Creole knowing that only I can understand.
“H—” the plea never comes. No sooner than I try to call his real name is he raining down his brutal punishment on my bottom.
I don’t even try to muffle my screams and cries. Humiliation is like a dirty little kink finally exposed as I’m deeply aware of everyone seeing him bring me low.
“Such a bad, naughty little girl.” He chides me — my pussy clenches, anyway.
“Awful, dirty little slut making me wait for what’s mine.” Blow after blow makes heat blossom on my cheeks, eliciting a deep throbbing ache inside where my muscles spasm in response not only to his words and deeds but to what he’s doing to my brain chemistry.
He’s man is handling me in a way I never anticipated.
I see now he was holding back. All that shit is gone. His dominance unleashes, and I, eager little sub that I didn’t know I was, lap it up with every harsh slap on my ass.
“Damn. Look how you’re wetting my hand up.” His big hand falls in front of my face to show me my own glistening essence slicking the thick plains of his hand.
“Lick it off.” He growls.
Sticking my tongue out with an eagerness I didn’t think I possessed, I let him rub the flat of his hand over its surface.
“Good, little kom solope,” he whispers, rubbing his wet hand over my face before gripping my locs and tugging my head back. His mouth covers mine. The kiss is savage — a possession.
I whimper against his harsh lips, wanting more.
Ignoring the sting in my scalp, I let him hold me at an angle as he takes complete possession of my mouth.
He tongue-fucks my mouth so thoroughly I hear muffled groans from the crowd.
Pulling away, he looks over me like he’s checking in. Open, and vulnerable, I feel trust expanding in my chest, knowing through his silent communication that no matter what else happens, he’s got me.
“Up.” Shifting me, he makes me stand. Then he’s towering over me.
“Come.” Stepping in front of me, he pulls the chain taunt making me follow behind as he weaves me through the throngs of the MC.
My gaze is so locked on his back, that I don’t see it at first. I fully expected his chopper to be the apparatus where he lays his claim. But this is not a claim but a punishment.
“Saban.” My name on his lips makes me realize that I’ve come to a stop dead center of the club.
The resolute determination I see in his eyes propels me forward.
There is not a whisper nor a word as he leads me onto the stage where an enormous St. Andrews cross stands dead center.
There will be no robe draped around me. My penance will be on display for every eager stare of the el Diablo.
“Here.” Nodding to the center of the cross. He waits as I step over to the gleaming wood. I can tell from its ornate beauty it’s one of Rocco’s creations, just like the throne-like chair he made for Snake.
Lifting my arms, he buckles my wrist into the supple leather binds. Dipping to the bottom of the apparatus, he does the same to my ankles before turning to the crowd. Gaze seeming to rake over every person present, he dares a challenge. None comes.
Turning back to me. He looks down at me. The muscle in his jaw ticks. Rage ripples from him when his hand reaches out to manacle my neck.
Flinching, I surge back against the smooth unforgiving surface.
“You see where trying to run from me got you.” He tilts my head this way and that.
“Open.” He snarls. Obeying, I open my mouth. He skeets a stream into my mouth before capturing his gift, slanting his mouth over mine as he makes me take his tongue. His possession is complete. If the cross were not holding me up, I would be a puddle on the floor.
Squirming, my needy body seeks contact with the hard ridges of his form. He’s still fully clothed, another clear sign of the disparity of our statuses.
“Look how badly you need to come. You don’t even care if I fuck you right here.” He says in my language. Keeping the intimacy between us.
The crowd is hushed, and when my eyes dart past his, everyone is frozen in place, not wanting to miss us coming together in such an incendiary way.
“Eyes on me, Sabine.” My eyes snap up to him using my real name. Something twists inside, making me feel more vulnerable than I did the first time he took me.
Dipping his head, he pulls the skin just below my neck into a hard suction of his mouth.
My toes curl just as he pulls away, moving to my breast. His mouth stretches trying to fit over my areola.
He does just barely, taking huge pulls of my right breast while he covers the other with his large hand, pinching and tugging my nipples.
“Snake.” Crying his name, I strain against the bonds holding me, feeling both helpless and comforted at the same time.
Ignoring my pleas, he keeps licking and sucking. My body arches and is rewarded with attention. He commands every inch of me.
His hand drifts between us. Sliding between my thighs, he dips his long fingers into my eager pussy.
“Taste how good you are.” He commands, pressing his wet digits between lips.
My eyes blow wide as he pushes them even deeper, making me falate him.
“That’s it. Suck your hot little come off my fingers, like a good little sub. Show them how you bend only for me.” He says only for me to hear.
My gaze is ensnared with his as he watches as I take his long fingers down my throat again and again.
“Good girl.” He praises dropping low covering my pussy with his hot mouth.
The scream I emit is a broken, ragged thing as I throw my head back, seeing stars.
He buries his head between my spread legs.
Fingers still wet from my mouth, I open me to him and, anyone close enough to witness the way he devours me.
Tongue spearing inside me only to swirl and tease before he sucks my clit into his mouth.
“Look how big and proud she sticks out for her Snake,” he murmurs before rewarding her with a twirl and suck that shatters me into a thousand pieces.
I barely have time to come down from the bliss he just served me before he’s rising above me like a fallen god rising from the ashes looking for whom to destroy. In this case, I am his willing sacrifice.
The drag of the zipper has me looking down when he releases himself and then notches into my opening.
In one surge, he drives into me with pitiless pressure until he bottoms out, bringing our bodies flush.
“Mine, lil’ motherfucker.” He growls, withdrawing until just the head remains inside.
I watch the way his jaw tightens. He’s trying to hold on.
“Leave again.” He slams in, making my muscles quake in their effort to hold him in the spot he’s hit.
“G’head.” He growls into my ear. “I want you to.” Withdrawing, his gaze snapping to mine.
“So I can hunt you down again.” My chest seizes with every drive that follows as he powers into my pliant pussy again, and again.
Helpless to do anything other than to take the punishing pleasure my guardian turned captor is exacting, I allow myself to do nothing — not think, not judge — nothing other than feel what he’s doing as he pleasures my body with every unswerving powerhouse drive of his hips.
Something shatters inside me at the same time I reach my climax.
“I got you.” Cupping my head in his big hands, he looks down on me as he fucks me through one orgasm right into another one.
Holding me like this, he surges inside me, filling me with his essence.
Only our harsh breathing can be heard in the room for long minutes.
Stepping away from me, he tucks his still tumescent dick into his jeans with effort.
He nods, and the twin cousins come onto the stage carrying his robe.
Turning from me, he faces the crowd. Never one to raise his voice, his remains level. “Saban was under my protection. She remains so. She is mine alone to punish. Saban Toussaint’s debt to el Diablo is satisfied.”
A murmur of approval rises among the crowd until a cheer rises.
I barely notice. My legs feel like jelly. The hood is pulled over my head for a moment before it’s snatched away.
“We don’t hide.” Though his words are to Lorena and Sara, but his gaze is on mine.
“C’mon. We’re going home.”
Leading me down the stairs, we make our way through the crowd that seems riveted on us.
A snicker sends dread through me before, “Make way for Snake and his cumdumpster.” followed by a rough chuckle.
My eyes dart up just in time to see Snake whip out his bowie knife plunging it into the side of the guy’s neck. He drops so fast to the floor it’s obvious he’s dead before he hits the ground.
Without a word, he swoops me up into his arms, stepping over the guy like he’s trash.