Chapter 8
BANE
Iwake up alone. Georgiy is nowhere to be found. I must have fallen asleep after all. But with his body against me, I didn’t remember. I didn’t dream.
It was just darkness.
My heart sinks when I realize that despite the comfort he offered me, he still left me alone in the end. I stuff my head under the pillow, sniffing around like a dog until I find his scent. It makes me feel slightly better. He always smells so nice. So clean. I want to wear it always.
But he’s always running off.
He’s still here.
Probably not for long, though.
I roll onto my back, the pillow still over my face. His scent and the darkness consume me, and I relish it.
My hand reaches down to my hard dick and I stroke it roughly, pinching the tip and pulling the foreskin over it as I pretend that Georgiy is the one standing over me, telling me what to do.
Bossing me around like he always does.
I want him to pull out a scalpel and carve something into my skin. To make me bleed. I tighten my fist and twist it, my back arching off the bed.
My cock erupts just thinking about him, my body shaking in the aftermath.
My mess is spread across my abdomen, but I don’t bother to wipe it away.
I just roll myself up and stand on shaking legs.
My head is a little better today, not that I mind the pain.
It’s the dizziness I can’t stand. I can’t get anything done when the room is spinning.
My hand trails across the wall as I make my way to the bathroom and use a washcloth to haphazardly wipe myself up, tossing it onto the floor when I’m done. I think about Georgiy not liking how messy I am as I kick it to the side. I’ll get it after my shower. I promise.
As I step underneath the spray, it assaults my sensitive skin. It’s always like this. The marks that have been left on me since I was a child. Some still tingle when touched.
“Who hurt you?” Georgiy had asked when he first caught sight of them.
“Death,” was my reply.
It was vague, but he seemed to understand.
I drag a bar of soap over my abdomen and down my legs, feeling the warm water hit my tattoo. It’s still covered, but after this shower, I’m going to peel the bandages off and stare at it for a long while. Maybe rub a little lotion on it to make sure it heals properly.
I’ve never taken good care of my scars. Never much thought to. At the time, I was too busy surviving. But once I escaped, I never took the time to make them disappear, to cover them up.
They’re a part of me. Just like my lungs, my heart.
As I stand under the water, pinpricks erupting across my skin, I relive the moment Georgiy tied me down and forced my ass to take it. The sting of the tattoo gun. The way my cock ached.
Oh hell.
The memory of it.
Why can’t I dream of that every night?
I stroke my dick, hard and ruthless. It’s how I like it. My head is thrown back, my knees locked as I bring myself to a second completion.
Hell and damnation, I need to get fucked. Soon.
Georgiy’s been edging me for months.
Always with his fingers or dildos. Or machines.
But never him.
I sigh in partial relief as I watch my cum swirl down the drain before rinsing myself off and stepping from the shower.
My body drips water as I walk to the bedroom, little puddles forming on the tile floor.
I don’t bother drying off. Doing that takes too long.
I stop in front of the full-length mirror near the closet and turn around, baring my ass to the glass before peeling the bandages off and sighing happily.
The tattoo looks amazing.
I wiggle my ass cheeks, water droplets sliding down my skin, and I feel myself grow hard again.
I stare down at my dick and flick it.
“Behave.”
It doesn’t listen. It’s just as stubborn as me. It only grows thicker. It’s really becoming a problem. Georgiy should really fuck me and put us both out of my misery.
I peer back at my ass and my chest swells. If he tattooed me, made his mark permanent, it must mean something.
I should return the sentiment. I should make him a ring. Really set our relationship in bone.
I know just the one that will work.
Before exiting the room, I walk to Georgiy’s suitcase and pull out a shirt and some underwear, pulling both on and admiring them in the mirror. Oh yes. I look good wearing his clothes. Edible. Like he could peel them away and have me for a snack.
If only he’d eat my dick. But I doubt that will ever happen. He doesn’t seem like the kind of man who gets on his knees for anyone. That’s fine with me. I can be the one kneeling. I quite like that position anyway.
As I make my way out of the bedroom toward the secret entrance near the end of the hallway, I hear a commotion from another room. I shouldn’t bother. I should stay on task, but it’s too much, the pull of it. I’m a nosy bitch.
Tiptoeing toward it, I’m deathly silent, wanting to hear what’s going on.
I peer around a corner and see Teddy standing in the middle of a bedroom, his cheeks flushed, his eyes set forward. The door is only halfway open, so I have to peer to the left to see who is standing there with him.
Oh, it’s Jake.
I like him. He’s very cute and takes great care of Angel’s garden. I bet he jacks off into dirt piles and grows cum trees.
I bite back a laugh at that thought and then turn my head slightly so I can see what’s going on.
Teddy is in his usual suit, his hair shaved close to his head.
In his thick paws, he’s holding a bunch of flowers while Jake arranges them in a vase.
My eyes widen. Oh, my oh my, Jake’s only wearing a jockstrap.
A cute one with little beads on the straps. And nothing else.
I shift on my feet, trying to keep myself quiet so I don’t interrupt what’s happening before me. That’s the worst when it happens. Sometimes I ruin things by making myself known. When I do, all the fun stops.
My eyes swivel up to Teddy’s face and I see that his cheeks are bright pink as he tries not to look at Jake’s ass, but honestly, that has to be impossible.
Jake has a nice butt. Round and bouncy. I bet it would look good when a dick slides in and out of it.
Also, there’s a small marijuana leaf on his right butt cheek.
Oh, we could be twins. Tattooed-ass twins.
I adjust myself as I watch Teddy sign something to Jake with one hand, and I bite my bottom lip to hide a frantic laugh.
He just asked where Jake’s pants were. If he lost them.
I shift slightly to the right and see Jake cock his head. “Why? You don’t like my ass?”
Teddy’s cheeks flame, and he shakes his head. “No. I mean, yes. It’s fine…” His hand flutters about and then falls to his side.
“Just fine?” Jake asks, his eyebrows rising.
Teddy shifts on his feet and then holds out the flowers, signaling the end of the conversation. He looks like he’s about to melt into the ground, kind of like the corpses do when I pour the chemicals on them. How they just slowly liquefy into goo…
But truthfully, I’d love to watch Teddy get fucked. If Jake rides the big cock I know Teddy has, I want front-row seats. It would be…my lips smack, and Teddy turns his gaze toward the door, his brow furrowing when he sees me standing there.
I wave and step forward, causing Jake to turn toward me and grin. His long hair is pulled back, some slipping from his bun, and I stare at his neck a little too long. He has a wonderful vein just there on the side…
“Bane!” He’s given me a name sign where the letter B is slashed across his throat. Very fitting, I think.
“Hi,” I reply. “Love your ass. Very tight. Want to bite it.”
Teddy grumbles when he sees me sign that, but you have to understand, Teddy needs to make a move. I want to see the two of them fucking and it won’t happen unless Teddy feels threatened. And I think I make him a little jealous when it comes to Jake.
He waggles his eyebrows. “You can. Go ahead,” Jake replies, turning around and bouncing his ass deliciously. It’s an extreme talent.
“I have a tattoo on my ass too,” I sign to him. “Wanna see?”
“Yes!” he nods.
I peer over at Teddy and see him frowning. But before I can pull my pants down, he’s pushing me from the room, closing the door in my face.
A small giggle erupts from my throat as I stand up a little straighter, feeling like my job is done. I got him to react. That’s good. That’s what Teddy needs. A little push in the right direction. Now, I just need to wait for them to fuck so I can see.
I want to see all of it.
I adjust myself again and run a hand over the back of my neck.
Right. What was I doing?
I stop to think about it for a moment before remembering. Ah yes. Georgiy. The ring.
Without another thought, I move down the hallway and toward the secret entrance to the catacombs.
With a press of my fingers, the door swings open, and I disappear behind it.
My feet are bare, and I relish the feel of the dirt beneath my toes.
It’s hard to see, but I don’t mind it. I spent ages in small, dark spaces when I was young.
I’m used to it. I didn’t let it frighten me.
Instead, I learned to harness it, mold it into something I could use to my advantage.
And now here I am, able to traverse the tunnels without looking.
I’m blind down here, and I don’t mind it.
A mole rat of sorts.
I wear that title with pride. Because I’m the one who gave it to myself, not him. Me.
As the darkness gives way to light, I find myself in the butchery. I move toward my desk and then the shelves behind it, shuffling jars of bones around until I find what I need. A vertebra. The perfect one. A C2.
I move to a machine I bought last year when I really got into making bone jewelry.
People have asked how I got into this. It just happened, a random revelation on a not-so-special day.
I’ve always collected things—bones, body parts, et cetera.
One day, I was setting bones out on a table and realized it would make a nice necklace.
And the rest is history.