Chapter 15 Briella
Briella
“HERE THERE BE GODS. YOU HAVE BECOME DIVINE.”
Citizen Soldier Playlist
“Isolate”
“Hope It Haunts You”
Ilift my head, more confused than ever at the sight of them whipping themselves.
They don’t hold back. They beat themselves with a vengeance, like they’re punishing themselves or something. Punishing themselves for what? What they’ve done to me? No, that can’t be it.
They’ve all gathered around me in a circle, towering over me. Whatever this is, it’s a sick and twisted ritual, one they’ve practiced. All their muscles bulge, but their dicks are still hard. Like the pain gets them off, cleanses them somehow.
I wince when I see the blood dripping onto the floor behind them.
I curl myself tighter as the blood spreads, pooling around me, spilling closer and closer.
I hold back the acid in my throat, hating this side of me.
I can deal with the sight of my blood…but not others.
It makes no sense. No, it makes perfect sense after all the shit I witnessed growing up.
But this? It’s not the same as Easthaven. They’re not bound to religious rules established by patriarchs through the centuries.
The five men before me are shameless, damned bastards. But they have their own code. Their own law. And they’ve been initiating me into that law. Level 3 now. But what does that mean? What happens after they’re done beating themselves bloody?
When they start on their fronts, lashing their smooth, slabbed chests, I jerk my head up and whimper, “Stop…please.”
Raphael pauses. The others freeze. Their chests heave with pained breath, their eyes betraying that pain. But the socio looks down at me with intrigue even as blood gushes from his back.
“What a sweet little Lass.”
I look back at Rory and hiss, “I just want to get on with it. Level 3, right?” I turn back to Raphael. “Finish it. Finish it so I can be done. Please!” I plead with him, desperation squeezing my lungs.
He tosses his whip to the side. It lands with a wet thwack, followed by the others. And then…Raphael squats before me, dripping blood on the side of my body as he sharpens his gaze and commands, “Spread yourself. Back to the floor. Arms and legs wide.”
Nohonohno, God, please! He wants me to practically make a snow angel in the blood. A blood-red angel.
I blink back tears.
“Do you need help?” he asks me, cupping my cheek, more blood spilling.
The faster I get on with this, the faster we will be finished.
So, I shake my head and force my tired and worn limbs to move.
I do my best to block out the pain when I slowly roll over onto my back, just as whipped as theirs.
Their blood is warm, and it coats my open wounds, and I try not to imagine what it means.
Not just on a sanitary level but on a soul level.
There is something dark about this place. Something hellish. And part of me wonders if there is some deeper energy, a demonic force that will bleed into my veins as our blood mixes.
It’s ridiculous. I already have my demons.
But for whatever reason, chalk it up to my insanity, I like theirs more.
Once I lay my head back in the blood, spread-eagled for them, Raphael nods. I suck in a deep breath as he dips his fingers into the blood. The moment his red-coated fingers creep toward my face, I swallow a steel knot in my throat before taking the deepest breath and softly closing my eyes.
I go through the sensory motions Jude took me through, marveling at how much they help.
Raphael’s fingers are tender as he wipes the blood along my eyelids. Because eyes are the windows to the soul. I open them after a couple seconds, finding him still hovering over me.
The others gather round me, coming closer. My breath hitches as Rory leers down at me with the same blood-coated fingers. Except, he smears his thumb along each side of my mouth in an upward curve.
“Smile for me, Firecracker,” he taunts, then taps my lips.
“Sure,” I say, spreading my lips into a feral grin. “Would you like me to show my teeth? You know, the teeth that bit off your ear?”
He hardens his jaw, his fingers twitching with the need to touch his ruined ear. My consolation is that it must hurt like hell. Just like my ass.
“She’s never gonna let you live that down,” Seth says with a laugh.
“Shut up,” growls Rory.
One by one, the others finish their marks. Jude touches his bloodied fingers to my brow in a soft, fleeting mark. Vincent places his mark at the nape of my neck, hiding it beneath my hair. And Seth? He presses his full, bloody palm along my chest, right above my beating heart.
“Vincent,” Raphael directs him. “Beneath her.”
My eyes go wide as I register what Level 3 means.
I swear I must have run out of tears, but more come.
My eyes sting from the salt, and I know they are puffy and bloodshot.
I take deep, slow breaths, letting my chest fill with air while Vincent lifts me, getting underneath me.
I can feel his hardness, how he pours lube all over it.
“Seth, take her sex.”
I wince at the term, but it’s nowhere near the pain and pressure when Vincent works himself into my ass, sliding in slow and deep, so I feel every inch. Seth hovers over me, all his muscles hemming me in, his body overshadowing me while he positions himself at my opening.
“We’ll go slow. We’ll go gently, Briella Darling.”
I glare daggers at him. “Should I swoon now or wait until I finish vomiting? God!” I shoot my head back when Vincent is lodged inside me. My hair, slick with blood, slaps his shoulder. He doesn’t care about the splatters of blood.
“Fuck, she’s pulsing all around me—so goddamn tight even after Rory’s beast stretching her,” exclaims Vincent, thrusting slowly in and out.
He groans deeply, overlapping my moan. Despite the pain, the pressure is growing inside me, and I feel myself clenching.
Thanks to whatever numbing lube they rubbed in me, I know the pain is an echo of what it could be.
Heat and sweat spread all over my face until I’m burning between them. The brutal intensity of Raphael’s gaze bears down on me. My heart rate goes wild.
I find my hands straying, fingertips brushing along Seth’s abs, carved by rugged, wilderness work. I memorize the blue fire of his eyes, warm and melting as he takes me.
“Your pussy is gripping me like a glove, Briella Darling. Goddess, you feel so good.”
A whimper leaves without my permission. What he called me…is that what they want from me? For me?
“I feel your cock, Vincent. You feel mine?” Seth smirks.
“Shut the hell up and fuck her,” growls Vincent, and I feel that growl resonating through my back.
They pound me slowly, deeply, and I feel the hot pleasure rising. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rory’s monster dick swinging like a rod as his hands flex, fingers twitching with his eagerness. But I can’t survive his cock in my ass again.
When Seth grips my chin and kisses me, it distracts me. God, all these men know how to fuck, how to kiss. He licks all over the inside of my mouth with long, curling strokes of his tongue against mine.
“Give it to me, Briella Darling,” Seth breathes against my lips and lowers his fingers to my clit while thrusting faster, moving along with Vincent’s quicker thrusts. “Come for me, sweet girl.”
Mouth open in a moan, I throw my head back, unraveling all around them.
The pleasure surges through me in molten waves, crashing and crashing until I feel liquid stars shooting behind my eyes.
Even as I’m still climaxing, the crown of a cock penetrates my mouth.
I look up to find Raphael thrusting into my mouth, pumping his dick all the way to the back.
I take a deep breath right before he slides into my throat.
I choke through my gag reflex. It’s been years since I took a dick down my throat, but it’s something that comes back to me.
“Yes, Briella,” Raphael encourages me, all his muscles flexing.
More strands of dark hair have escaped his ponytail, spilling down his face, casting shadows along his deep green eyes.
“Worship me with your mouth. We are the altar and the blade. Worship is pain. And pain is worship. We are the storm not even the devil can contain. And you are in the eye of the storm. We are your chains, unbreakable. Stay with me…here. Right here.”
With more tears blurring my vision, I work my hardest to hold my breath and swallow his cock down.
His eyes hold mine, commanding. “Men wage war for kings,” he tells me, those predatory eyes consuming me. “Kings wage war for gods. And gods demand blood. But we are the gods who give you our blood in return, Briella. We will stop at nothing to make you ours, to make you us.”
A new pain guts me, gripping my heart like a vise.
There was no belonging at Easthaven. There was only conformity.
They had god-complexes, too. But not like the men using me tonight.
These men have earned their god-complexes.
I may not know how. I may not know why. But they have.
I’ve seen it in their scars, the brands on their skin from old flame marks.
Not unlike the one they seared on my ass.
“So—fucking—gorgeous!” Seth punctuates each word while driving his length deep, snapping and jerking through his release.
“Beautiful,” Vincent whispers against my ear right before he spills his cum inside my ass.
Three left. Please let it only be once. Please not my ass again from Rory.
“Jude, raise her up. Hold her back to your chest.”
Jude follows Raphael’s direction, and I lean back against him, all but spent.
At any moment, I expect to pass out…until the black god touches his full, sensual lips along the side of my neck, treasuring my skin and leaving tingles everywhere.
My blood warms all over again. His blood coats my back, mixing with my open wounds.
“Raph…” Rory looks at him questioningly.
“Her tits.”
“The fuck?!”