38. Res
38
Res
T he panel closes above us, and the lights automatically switch on to guide our way down the steps, through a hall, and into a large stone, dimly lit dungeon with stone walls and floors.
I was expecting something shocking. Something unhinged. Maybe even something heinous. But what I see is beyond my wildest imagination.
It’s Jaxson’s father’s S-Team, all the ones implicated in his father’scrimes anyway, all of them chained together to the floor, naked, in various states of injury, but well enough to walk. In the center is Jaxson’s father, chained to a cross with a sill robe draped over him.
“Jaxson… what?” I ask, confused.
As far as the rest of the Sovereignty knows, Jaxson’s father fled like a coward rather than facing the consequences of his supposed decades-long deceit along with his most trusted man, Samson. To sell the idea, a team has been assembled to search for them high and low and to leave no stone unturned, knowing they would never be found because they’re in Jaxson’s custody. But I had never been curious enough to ask where Jaxson was keeping them, only knowing that he would keep them safe from me.
“I figured you might want to have a part in this atonement,” he replies.
A few months ago, I would have been mortified by this display. I would have been even more mortified by the fact that, yes, I absolutely want to participate. Now, my face simply splits into a smile. I accept that this part of me is just who I am—that when it comes to punishing people who have harmed me and others, I am just as mad and depraved as Jaxson is.
The saying goes that the bigger they are, the harder they fall, and how Jaxson’s father has fallen.
Before, even though he was just a man, Jaxson’s father seemed untouchable. With his tall stature and unusual fitness for a man his age. With his deep, strong voice full of conviction in his own delusion. I can see why people looked at him and were convinced he was the chosen messenger of God.
Now, stripped of his clothes, chained to a cross, face sporting a patchy beard and hair on his head sticking in wild directions, he looks like little more than a caveman.
He laughs when we’re finally standing in front of him and says, “My son, my own personal Judas, and Delilah herself incarnated.” He scoffs, “Go ahead. Kill me. If you do, the Supreme Force will unleash upon you a thousandfold what you unleash on me.”
“And I’ll gladly suffer it in Lauressa’s name,” Jaxson says. “But I’m not killing you. Not yet. ”
One of Jaxson’s men approaches with a large syringe. Jaxson takes the syringe and holds it out to me.
“Would you like to do the honors?”
I don’t know what’s in this syringe, but I’m more than curious to find out. I take the syringe and go over to where another one of Jaxson’s men has tied off Abdiel’s arm, exposing a nice clean vein. They direct me to insert the needle. Once it’s properly placed, I push the plunger down, injecting an unknown liquid into him.
Jaxson’s men take the syringe from me, and then I step back to stand next to Jaxson.
“Your whole, pathetic life, you’ve always coveted things that never belonged to you,” Jaxson says coldly, looking at his father. “Lilah. Lauressa. The Sovereignty. The seat of Oracle. Raphael’s life. Zachariah’s life. The life of two men you swore you loved like brothers.”
It’s still up for debate whether or not Jaxson’s father had something to do with Zachariah’s supposed natural death. The piles of evidence Bathsheba turned over to us indicated that Abdiel was the one who did the deed. But the last thing we need are Sovereigns believing the "true" Oracle can be taken out at whim by something as common as murder. They need to believe that the Oracle is untouchable. Otherwise, people might get ideas that aren’t conducive to maintaining control. So those bits of evidence were kept secret from the Sovereignty’s general knowledge.
“So, since you like coveting things, I thought I’d indulge you,” Jaxson said as he grabs a chain and drags one of the men who was simply lying on the ground silently .
It’s Samson. Funny how small he looks now compared to when he was tormenting me.
He hands the chain to his men, who drag him to be in front of Abdiel on his hands and knees, ass facing the man.
“Go ahead,” Jaxson orders his father. “Take him and atone for your sins against my Lauressa.”
Jaxson’s father turns red. Whether that’s with rage or embarrassment, I can’t determine. Either way, I can’t say I don’t take glee in it because he’s undoubtedly figured out, just like I have, what Jaxson wants him to do.
“No,” Abdiel says defiantly at the same time as Samson laughs and says, “Gotta hand it to you, nephew. Didn’t think you had it in you to be so depraved.”
Jaxson shrugs and says, “Pot, meet kettle. Besides, I’m sure you’ve done much more depraved things in the name of serving your dear friend, the Oracle.”
“There’s nothing you can threaten me with that can make me do as you say," Abdiel spats. "If you kill me, if you kill every single man in this room, we’ll all become martyrs for the Supreme Force.”
Jaxson smirks and replies, “You're right. There is no way I can make you do this. Except give an aphrodisiac drug that’s going to make you feel like you’re dying if you don’t get your dick wet. It’s fast acting. Are you feeling hot, Dad?”
Now that Jaxson mentions it, his father is looking a lot sweatier than he did just minutes ago when I injected him with whatever was in the syringe, and perhaps he was turning red from more than just anger or embarrassment earlier .
Then, slowly, the man’s cock begins to swell under his robe.
“I should have known Candace passed on her disrespect to you,” the man snaps, suddenly starting to strain, his cock so hard that it looks painful.
“Bet you’re wishing you’d given the order for our mother to kill me too,” Jaxson says with a shrug.
Abdiel drops to his knees, beginning to shake and shudder as the drug takes effect. He grabs at his cock and begins to pump it with his hands until finally, he comes all over his hand. But the drug in his system keeps him from feeling the relief of his orgasm. So he continues to writhe on the ground, pumping his cock with such vigor that his hand starts to turn red with a rash.
Jaxson circles the two men, his father and the man who trained him in torment, like a predator circling his prey as he recites the same way I recited scriptures in Sunday school, “And you shall not covet your neighbor's wife. And you shall not desire your neighbor's house, his field, or his male servant, or his female servant, his ox, or his donkey, or anything that is your neighbor's.”
I can’t help but allow myself to laugh, more at the pathetic whine that escapes Jaxson’s father in desperation and a little at Jaxson’s tendency for theatrics. A theatric I’ve learned to appreciate after witnessing a couple of atonements and participating in two myself.
Jaxson rolls his eyes and says to me, “Even drugs take time to beat his stubbornness, apparently.”
“At least I know where you got your stubbornness now,” I joke.
Finally, with a roar, Abdiel scrambles to his feet and grabs onto Samson. Samson tries to fight, but Jaxson kicks him in the side, puts his boot on the man’s neck, and says, “Arch your back, relax you asshole, and serve the man you said you’d serve until death.”
“You dirty, rotten, mother—” Samson screams as Abdiel finally can’t resist the biological chemical processes caused by the drug coursing through him and shoves his cock brutally into him.
Back when Samson was forcing me to watch his men rape women just because I couldn’t pass his stupid tests, I could barely keep myself from getting sick. The only reason I didn’t was that they hardly fed me, and I refused to give him the satisfaction of witnessing my torment. Now, I feel no sickness. I feel no torment. Just gleeful satisfaction that he’s getting exactly what he deserves. But looking at the scene, at my tormentor being fucked in the ass by the cult leader he’s enabled to harm others for his own pure sick satisfaction doesn’t feel like enough.
Some more rational and less harmed part of my mind whispers that in taking satisfaction from watching my tormentor and assaulter raped, I’m no better than he is. That I’ve allowed my torment and the cruelty others have wrought on me to bring me down to their level and make me no better than them. I can’t deny that the more rational part of me is right. I also can’t deny that I’m beyond caring. If going down to their level is the only way to protect myself, my family, my friends, my love, and others from the harm people like these would wreak on innocents, so be it.
“This isn’t turning you on, sweetheart,” I ask, parroting exactly what Samson said to me while I watch him grit his teeth to not give me the satisfaction of hearing his grunts of pain and screams. “This isn’t exciting enough for you? ”
He doesn’t answer, ignoring me the same way I ignored him.
“You know, I think there’s a way to make this more exciting for everyone involved and make sure you’re taking it all in to learn your lesson,” I continue, crouching down so that I’m eye level with him. “This is what you’re going to do for me, honey. You’re going to grab that cock of yours, and you’re going to stroke it just the way you know you like, and then you’re going to make yourself come. You’re going to come so hard from having your Oracle fucking your ass that you make a puddle on the floor with it as your offering. Got it?”
Samson lets out a grunt as he says, “Fuck you. There’s nothing you can do to make me.”
“Technically, no. I can't,” I state. “I can drug you into the same frenzy as your Oracle.”
That gets a reaction out of Samson, other than the painful grunts as he’s fucked.
“You think you were the only one doing the profiling all this time? So was I. And what I clocked about you? You’re a control freak. You don’t just get off on it. You need it. And the worst, most humiliating thing that could ever happen to you is losing it. No matter who or what it is.” I look at Jaxson, who is standing by, watching the scene before him impassively. “Got any more of that drug, Jaxson?”
“I had to get it in bulk in order to get it into the country. There’s enough to drug the entire city if I wanted to,” he answers as though it’s an accomplishment.
I grin and then turn back to Samson. “So your choice, honey. You can spare yourself a little dignity and keep some of your control as you do what I tell you, or I can drug you until you’re so desperate to be fucked that you’re screaming like a bitch begging for more while you’re fucking your dick into your hand raw? What’s it going to be?”
The question is rhetorical. I know what the answer is going to be, and I’m proven right when Samson grabs his dick and begins fisting it.
“That’s it,” I say encouragingly, watching as Samson becomes little more than a sputtering, grunting mess. As Jaxson’s father becomes little more than his baser instincts behind him. “I want you to get off on this.”
I stand and take a step back to watch my handiwork, breathless with anticipation as Jaxson’s father comes again and again in Samson’s ass. Finally, Samson comes in his hands with a loud groan of pain, pleasure, and torment that erases the trauma of him watching me do the same.
Jaxson’s father abandons Samson on the ground, having fucked the man’s hole so loose that it’s no longer helping him. Lucky for him, and unfortunately for all the naked men lying around, there are plenty more to choose from. He grabs another man. He tries to struggle, but Jaxson has shackled all the men in such a way that they can’t fight back and are all within his father’s reach.
I look back down at Samson, lying bleeding and tormented at my feet, while I hear the groans of the nameless S-Team member who participated in my torment as he’s fucked by the man he dedicated his life to, getting exactly what he signed up for.
Then I look up and catch Jaxson watching me stiffly with darkened eyes. I’ve seen those darkened eyes before—the time I stripped naked and flashed his entire security team. It’s jealousy. Possessiveness. Ownership. All over the fact that he thinks I’m offering another man something that belongs only to him.
I smirk as I walk over to him, press my body flush against his, and whisper in his ear, “Jealous?”
He chuckles in my ear and then walks around me to where one of his men is standing as he says, “To be jealous, I’d have to be threatened that someone else can offer you something that I can’t.”
The man he went over to hands him something out of my view. Jaxson turns around, revealing a red-hot machete in his hands.
“That said, even though I’m not at all threatened or jealous, he still has to atone for his sins against you,” he says, walking past me and kneeling by where Samson is lying.
He suddenly reaches down, grabs the man’s cock, and squeezes. Samson doesn’t squirm. He doesn’t scream. But I see the horror at the realization of what’s about to happen just a split second before Jaxson brings down the machete and chops off the man’s dick.
He howls in pain, writhing on the ground, hands going to clutch at the cauterized wound where his dick used to be. It’s pathetic to see a man who caused so much pain and torment reduced to this. To not be so powerful anymore.
“Got a gun?” I ask without looking away from the man.
Eventually, I feel Jaxson’s hands place a gun in my hand. I recognize the weight of it. Nine months ago, I took this exact same gun to a hotel, ready to shoot Jaxson if I needed to. The exact same gun that he took from me without me noticing until he was caressing my face with it. The exact same gun we used to frame my brother. The exact same gun that the police took as evidence. The exact gun that the police returned to me, having no use in keeping it since the supposed culprit of the heinous crime of blowing up Loving Eden was dead.
I go through the motions of making sure the safety is off, testing the weight to confirm it’s loaded, able to tell exactly how many bullets are in it from years of handling this exact gun.
I bend down in front of Samson’s twitching body, right in front of his bloody, torn hole. I have zero desire to fuck him with it. I’m not that depraved. But I can’t help the way my heart races in anticipation as I insert the gun into his torn asshole. Samson’s eyes widen, and tears stream down his cheeks as he tries to slide his body back and away from the gun to no avail.
“Rot in hell, motherfucker,” I say, and then empty the entire fucking clip into his ass, despite needing only one to do the job of killing him.
Blood pours from Samson’s mouth as the bullets tear through and destroy his insides. A few of the bullets even make it all the way from his ass out the top of his head, spreading brains and blood everywhere.
I take in the sight of my crime, my art, wishing that I could take a picture to save and look at later. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all this, it’s that I can’t be so arrogant as to think I can’t be taken down. That no one will want to take me down. If I want to maintain the power my blood, sweat, and tears have earned me, I can’t be like the previous Oracle, keeping records of his crimes with his wife and with his men. I can’t be like Magdalene, whose video of her promiscuity we still have even though she’s proven her loyalty .
In a world like this, no matter how much you try not to hurt people, you’re going to piss off someone. I’m going to piss off someone. Jaxson’s going to piss off someone. So I won’t be keeping pictures. But, fuck, am I going to make sure I take in and remember every detail. Remember the satisfaction tormenting my tormentor has brought me.
“That’s my girl,” Jaxson says, coming to stand behind me.
In my peripheral vision, I notice that Jaxson’s men are injecting every last chained man in the room with the torturous aphrodisiac drug.
He continues, “Look at how magnificent you are. How powerful you’ve made me with your faithfulness, and how powerful I make you in return.”
He tugs the straps of my casual bodycon dress down my shoulders. Pushes it down my torso, exposing my naked breasts. Pushes it down my hips, along with my panties, until they pool on the floor at my feet, leaving me naked for everyone in the room to see and witness. But I’m not embarrassed. The only two people making it out of this room alive are me and Jaxson. Not even the two men helping him facilitate this will escape. But they’ll get this privilege of seeing their new Queen Priestess at the height of ecstasy.
I step out of my dress and panties, leaving my sandals behind. Jaxson then leads me to the stone slab altar in the center of the room and lays me back on it. His clothes join mine in a pile on the floor before he climbs over me.
“You’re so beautiful, Snow White. My Oracle,” he mutters, leaning down to kiss me.
The torment of his father and his S-Team was all the foreplay needed.
I groan into his mouth, bucking my hips up into his, already wet with arousal and need for him. Because he did all this for me. He set up all this for me when he found out how his father and his closest confidants tormented me with the goal of destroying me. But the only thing they did was hasten a process that’s been ongoing for the past nine months. Nine months leading to a complete rebirth. Nine months since I stepped into a hotel room at the most expensive and luxurious hotel in Chicago, I feel like a new person. A new woman resurrected from the tomb that everyone who ever harmed me buried me inside.
“What was it that Samson said to you in that room?” Jaxson suddenly asks as he pulls his body away from mine. “That he could fuck you right there on the floor and no one would ever know about it?”
“Yes,” I answer, knowing well enough that Jaxson will tell me why this matters right now of all times.
“Seems like my father wasn’t the only one doing the coveting,” he says. “I feel like it’s only right that we honor Samson's desires posthumously, don’t you?”
“Wha—” I cut myself off when Jaxson lifts his hand, revealing the dick that he just cut off Samson. The cauterization of the place it was dismembered keeps the blood inside so it remains hard and erect from the blood that rushed to it in the man’s last moments of terror .
My heartbeat picks up as Jaxson runs the tip of the cock down my torso, pausing to circle my nipples with it before continuing on and poking at my bellybutton. Finally, he drags it down to my cunt, stroking up and down, the cock just catching my hole every time he drags it all the way back up to my clit.
This is sick. Deranged. Enough that if some authority tried to come after us, a defense attorney would immediately argue an insanity plea. But also, it’s just a sex toy, a dildo made out of a real man’s penis, so maybe not that fucked up at all.
My breaths grow shallower in anticipation as my stomach contracts with the contraction of my cunt, desperate to be filled.
“Stop teasing me,” I gasp finally.
Jaxson chuckles, but after one more stroke, he pushes the dismembered cock into me. Between the desperate ache of needing to be fucked and the thrill of being fucked by Jaxson with another man’s body part, there are no words to describe exactly how it feels. It feels the way sex with Jaxson always does. Overwhelming waves of pleasure with every thrust like I’m drowning. The thrill of the depravity. The undercurrent of cruelty, mean streak, and punishment. The desperate need for it to end because it’s always too much, but also not wanting it to end because it’s not enough.
But him fucking me with another man’s cock and enjoying it? It feels like I’m cheating on him, where the thrill is getting caught, and part of the high afterward is knowing I’ll get away with it.
I coo and arch toward Jaxson’s hand and the cock he’s fucking me with, the sounds of the men groaning as they’re overcome with desire and need from the drug they've been injected with becoming soothing background noise as I get closer and closer to my orgasm.
My legs shake. Pressure builds in my lower abdomen, coiling tighter and tighter. Ready to burst. Ready to—
“I’m going to… I’m about to—”
Before I can come, Jaxson pulls the cock from my cunt and laughs as I whine, lifting my hips up toward him.
“You thought I was going to let you come on another man’s cock? Even a dead man’s?” he asks.
Of course he wouldn’t. After all, Jaxson is my God. And one thing about God is that he's a jealous one.
I’d complain if not for the fact that he doesn’t keep me waiting. If not for the fact that he immediately tosses the dismembered cock aside and slides his cock into me.
Sinful moans escape me as he fucks me. It’s not gentle, but I need it to be harder. I need to make sure I can feel Jaxson in me. That I’ll feel it in the morning when I get up and walk around.
“Please. Please. Don’t stop. I… Fuck,” I whine as a particularly explosive jolt of pleasure ripples through me. But it's only just not enough to be an orgasm. “Oh. Jaxson.”
“Lauressa,” he says, capturing my lips with his and swallowing whatever I thought I wanted to say. I try to kiss him back, but it’s sloppy and messy because I can’t help but let out a moan every time his cock bludgeons my cunt.
Finally, when he pulls away, the words, “I love you. I love you so much,” come unbidden from my lips. Unbidden, but not untrue.
Fuck, I love this man even though all logic says I shouldn’t. Even though all logic says I should be terrified of him. Because the kind of cruelty he visits on others isn’t a cruelty that he can just contain and hide away from those closest to him. But I know that more than most. Rather than putting his best foot forward and wooing me with pretty lies, he was honest about the cruel man he was. The monster that he was. He didn’t shy away from the fact that he was the serpent in the garden, and I was to be his Eve.
Overcome with the truth of my words, of the long journey it took me to get here and feel that, I repeat as a constant refrain while he fucks me and plants kisses all over my face and torso, wherever he can reach, “I love you,” until I can’t say it anymore. Until all I can do is shout incomprehensibly as I fall over the edge of pleasure, unafraid and unashamed because Jaxson, my Supreme Force, will always be there to make sure no one casts me out of the heaven he’s stolen for me.