21. Res
21
Res
I eye the dagger in Jaxson’s hand. Silver, curved with a curved black hilt, and curved cross guard, either side pointing in opposite directions. Wicked sharp. I wonder if it was a dagger like this that he used to castrate Zach and cut off his tongue. What if it wasn’t just a dagger like this? What if it was this exact same dagger. I tremble with bated breath at the thought of what it could have done and what Jaxson plans to do to me with it. Because I know better than to think just because he thinks I’m precious and perfect means he won’t harm me. Means he won’t cut me open with that dagger if he decides he wants to.
“Look at you,” Jaxson says, stalking toward me with said dagger. “Pretty, pure little princess.”
I’m tempted to try to run. But there’s no escape. This classroom only has one door and Jaxson is blocking the only exit. Even if I did manage to escape from here, he knows where I live. Where I work. Everything. It would only be a matter of time before he caught up with me. I will have only succeeded in delaying the inevitable. If I could delay it at all .
“But you don’t want to be pure, do you,” Jaxson asks. “You want to be dirty.”
Jaxson places the flat edge of the dagger to my cheek and caresses me with it. It’s so sharp, I can still feel the sharp edges from this angle. If he were to press just a little harder, those edges would manage to cut into my cheek.
Then he puts the point right in the middle of my collar bone. The point pricks at my skin, and on instinct, I move back out the way only to hit an old desk behind me. The dagger slips in the process, making a small thin cut on my collar bone. The dagger is so sharp, I don’t even feel it and only notice when I feel blood beading at the cut.
“Look what you made me do, Princess,” Jaxson says. “We are going to try this again. This time, don’t move.”
I try to reiterate not moving to my shaking body as Jaxson once again places the point of the curved dagger at my collar bone. Jaxson slowly begins to bring it down the naked skin on my chest until it reaches the bodice of my dress. I bought it months ago. A pink dress with layers and layers of lining underneath to give it a flared look that stops at the knee with mesh flair sleeves. I was immediately reminded of a fairy. I finished the look with my silver tiara, makeup, slippers, and a wand dangling from a string at my side. I was going for fairy but have just as likely gotten fairy princess or just princess any time a child saw me, face lighting up in delight.
“You thought disguising yourself as a fairy would keep the huntsman from finding you,” Jaxson says. “But I know those pretty red lips and that black hair anywhere. ”
My breath hitches at his words. I wish I weren’t so scared he was going to cut me into pieces, make my body art, and display me somewhere. If I weren’t, this role-play might be pretty hot. Instead, I shake like a leaf as he brings the dagger down the bodice of my dress, slashing it and the strapless bra I wore underneath in two. He keeps going and going until he’s slashed my dress in half all the way to the hem.
The pieces of my bra fall to the floor and the only thing keeping the ruins of my dress on me are the sleeves on my arms, but barely.
Jaxson then uses the sharp edge of the dagger to carefully cut away my panties.
He places the curved edge of the dagger on the side of my neck and then orders, “Now, Snow White. On your knees.”
“No,” I say with what little courage I can muster with a fucking dagger to my neck.
“We had a deal, Snow White. You lost. Fair and square.”
“As if you gave me a fucking choice,” I snap and then wince at the prickly pointed reminder of the blade at my neck, moved from my outburst.
“On. Your. Knees. Snow White,” he orders, ignoring my argument.
With tears in my eyes, I drop to my knees in front of him. The entire time he keeps the blade at my neck.
“For over a month, I’ve been incredibly patient about that dirty little mouth of yours, Snow White. Yet you’ve only continued to insist on insolence,” he says. “It’s about time I make good on my warnings. ”
“You sick fuck,” I snap.
“You don’t know how many times I’ve fantasized about having you just like this,” Jaxson says, ignoring me yet again. “Now. Take out my cock.”
I glare up at him. The prickle in my neck from the dagger gets pricklier in warning, so I reach up, undo the belt and zipper of Jaxson’s costume, and pull his cock from his briefs
I thought my last boyfriend had a big cock. It’s nothing in comparison to Jaxson’s. I can barely fit my hand around it.
“Now,” Jaxson begins, slicing the dagger back and forth on my neck without breaking skin. Or, at least not enough to make blood flow. “I don’t have to tell you what’s going to happen if you do anything other than what I ask you to do.”
That is to say he’ll slice my head off whether on purpose or accidently if I try anything like trying to bite his cock off. I want to call his bluff and try it anyway. But again, seeing someone as precious and being willing to kill them aren’t mutually exclusive. It’s certainly not for a man part of a cult.
“Open your mouth,” Jaxson says.
I keep my mouth decidedly close. Jaxson pokes at my lips with the tip of his cock.
“Lauressa,” he warns.
I open my mouth, and he shoves his cock into it, hitting the back of my throat and causing me to gag.
My knees ache on the old linoleum floor as he fucks my mouth in the dark, the orange light of the bonfire outside being the only thing to illuminate us. Even now, he’s in control. The only indication or hint that he likes this being his hot pulsing cock in my mouth and subtle hitches of his breath as he exerts himself.
That control. That discipline. That efficient and perfunctory way he does everything. It pisses me off on a normal occasion, but it especially pisses me off now while he’s deepthroating my fucking mouth with his cock.
Determined to shatter that control, I suddenly grab the base of his cock with my hand, interrupting his thrusting and ignoring the way the dagger shifts on my neck. Then I take control. Bobbing my mouth halfway up and down his cock, using my tongue to block him from pushing it further into my mouth than I want to have him. Take my mouth off. Lick the entire veined underside of his cock from the base of his shaft to the tip.
All the while, I keep my gaze upward and carefully watch his face.
His forehead creases some from me licking the underside of his cock, so I do it again. This time, rather than a subtle hitch of his breath, a gasp escapes him. I grin, licking once more before taking his cock all the way into my mouth. I hallow my cheeks to add a suction as I pull all the way back to his tip.
“Lauressa,” he groans and pants, tossing his head back and closing his eyes while somehow managing to maintain the dagger at my neck. “F—”
I take my mouth off and say, “Oh no. Let me hear your dirty little mouth, Jaxson. If you get to dirty up my mouth, it’s only fair I get do the same with yours.”
“It’s not about being f—fuck,” he slips as I take his cock back into my mouth and suction it as I pull off again .
If he’s going to treat me like his dirty fucking little slut who has to be punished, the least he can do is show me that he enjoys. I continue to suction my mouth off his cock. His thighs tremble. His cock twitches. He stops trying to hold in his moans and grunts of pleasure, all control and discipline gone.
I smile around his cock as I pull my mouth back to just the tip. Lick and suck. Lick and suck. Lick and suck. Lick and…
Jaxson lets out a primal roar of pleasure as he manages to shove his cock past my tongue and back down my throat while he unloads his come. Left with no choice, I swallow as much of the salty substance as I can, but still a lot of it dribbles down my chin and even the front of my chest.
Jaxson grabs my hair and yanks me off his cock, glaring down at me while I glare back up at him. I’m definitely going to pay for making him lose control like that, but it was worth it. It was worth it to prove that I won’t be the pliant and submissive doll that he wants me to be.
Jaxson snatches me to my feet, picking up the dagger I didn’t know he’d dropped in the midst of this at the same time. Then he puts his hand around my neck and lays me flat on my back on the desk behind me. My torn dress falls apart at the sides, putting me on display for him.
“You’re going to pay for that,” he snaps.
“You didn’t like it? Your come down my throat tells a different—”
His grip around my throat tightens. Enough that I have to choose between breathing and talking. I choose breathing. Jaxson is making that hard enough as it is .
He twirls the dagger until he’s holding it in his gloved hand by the base of the blade. He moves so that he’s standing just outside my legs, and before I can snap my legs shut, he’s shoved the hilt into my shamefully wet cunt.
I gasp and squirm. In pain at the abruptness and the uncomfortable stretch of having something so rigid in me. But also in shamefully pleasant surprise as the hilt is curved toward just the right spot inside me to make my vision blur. If that weren’t enough, the cross guard that curves toward the hilt hits my clit at the same time.
“No,” I say. The control I’d snatched from Jaxson just moments ago slipping through my fingertips as my body betrays me yet again at his hand.
Jaxson ignores me as he viciously thrusts the hilt into my cunt, hitting my clit with every thrust.
I gasp and gasp both out of pleasure and desperate need for more air because Jaxson is still restricting my airway. My toes curl. My hands search for purchase on something but find nothing. I let out a loud moan as pleasure shoots through me from the hilt and the cross guard hitting just right, hoping that someone hears me. Hoping that someone investigates and finds us like this. To do what, I’m not sure. To stop this? But if I wanted this to stop, why does the thought of someone walking in exhilarate me instead of filling me with the sweet anticipation of relief from this humiliation.
“I’m—” Confused? Scared? Exhausted? What comes out is, “I’m coming!”
And then I come hard on the hilt. Body arching up. Toes curling. Muscles clenching .
“No,” I whimper in despair through my orgasm.
But Jaxson doesn’t stop. He wants to thoroughly hurt and humiliate me by getting as many orgasms out of me despite my protests. Because he gets off on proving that he’s the one in control. He’s the one with the power in this situation. Not me.
I squirm, trying to get my hips back from what he’s doing, overly sensitive from coming so hard, but there’s no escape. Jaxson won’t let me. He won’t…
The pleasure and heat begin to build in me again, much harder won than the first time.
“Don’t… Stop,” I beg breathlessly.
“I don’t plan to.”
“That’s not—” But I don’t have enough breath to finish.
That’s not what I meant. But suddenly I’m pushing and grinding my hips down to feel the hilt on that spot in my cunt and the cross guard on my clit at once and now I’m not sure what I was asking.
“Come on, Lauressa. I know you’ve got more in you. You want this. I know you want this, even if you don’t know it. This is what you want. You want this.”
My hands search for purchase as I feel an orgasm about to overtake me again. This one more explosive than before. As much as I hate it, my hands resort to grabbing onto the arm Jaxson has restricting my airway, holding so tight it’s a wonder I’m not breaking bones.
An orgasm crashes over me again. I let out a shout and a piercingly loud moan of pleasure and relief and anger at once. One that no doubt someone heard. But no one’s going to come investigate it. If anything, they’re running the other way. Because screams and moans? That’s the point of a haunted house. They’ve probably mistaken my moans and cries as part of the attraction. It’s likely what Jaxson was counting on all along.
Jaxson pulls the hilt from my cunt and takes his hand from around my neck. I watch him in a daze. He watches me back while licking my come off the hilt of his dagger, ignoring the blood dripping down the blade. Is that… Is that my blood?
I quickly realize it’s not my blood. It’s his blood, From where he held a dagger by the fucking sharp blade while fucking me with it.
He really is a madman. A fucking madman!
But more than that, he was willing to hurt himself to hurt me. There’s no way to beat a man like that. Because my efforts to seize control from him only serve to reinvigorate him further. He likes when I push back. He expects it. It’s all part of the game for him.
I tilt my head back and look at the ceiling. A sob wretches from my throat. How am I supposed to escape this? How am I supposed to beat Jaxson at this game of his?
“Now, now, Lauressa,” Jaxson says, sheathing his dagger as he helps me sit up. He pulls me into his embrace, yet again, staining the ruined remains of my costume with the blood from his hand.
I try to struggle against him, but can’t find the strength. Even if I could, I doubt Jaxson would be moved.
“That was intense, wasn’t it?” he asks.
I nod pitifully. Because what else am I supposed to do?
“I know,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I didn’t mean it to be. But you unleashed something in me earlier. If you’d just let me dirty that mouth up like I intended, I wouldn’t have become so rough with you.”
That’s not an excuse. This isn’t my fault. It doesn’t matter what I did or didn’t do. It doesn’t justify this.
“But you needed it in the end,” he continues to assure me. “You liked it in the end, even if you hated it. Sometimes, we hate the things that are good for us. Just wait. You’ll look back on this fondly one day.”
This is how to keep people in a cult 101. Convince them that all the bad things that happen to them are actually good in the long run because it makes you stronger. Because the prophet or God or messenger or whatever the fuck can’t use you if you’re not strong enough to take the bad of the people you want to help. Who will persecute and slander you in terrifying ways out of ignorance, but you have to love them and want to help them still anyway. Even at cost to you. Take much. Sacrifice much.
It's a noble idea when you’re just looking at the tip of the iceberg, but with far more nefarious implications that allow things like harm and abuse to prosper beneath the ocean depths. That strip you of your individuality. Because at the end of the day, you don’t really matter.
Then why—even though I know all that—why do I want to believe Jaxson? Why do I want to believe that one day I’ll look back on this fondly and even vaguely talk about it every Halloween to our children and grandchildren?
I already know the answer to that. Because if that’s not going to happen, if I’m not going to be grateful for it in the end, for what other purpose was this allowed to happen to me? And if there was no purpose, then what’s the point?
Logically, I know there is no point. But also, logically, there must be a point. Some far greater purpose I’m meant for that requires this that I’ll be grateful for in the end.
“That dress is ruined,” Jaxson says, stating the obvious. “I have a much more fitting costume for you.”
He helps me to my feet. Feeling my sex juices down my thighs makes me wish I could find a shower to clean myself. But that’s going to have to wait.
Jaxson takes the remains of my dress off my shoulders and discards it onto the floor. Then he helps me step into another dress. A long dress with a beautiful yellow, layered skirt that goes to the floor and a blue bodice with red cape. He ties a red ribbon around my hair and helps me step into yellow slippers before taking a wet wipe and wiping the come and tears from my face.
“There,” he says, looking at me. “A much more fitting costume.”
I don’t argue with him as he puts back on the cowl of his costume, locks my arm around his, and leads me out the classroom. We leave the haunted school floor to join the bonfire with everyone else.
I’m Snow White. He’s the Huntsman.
Snow White and the Huntsman.
He’s also the prince of his own kingdom.
And he’ll kill any prince who dares to challenge him for me.