12
It’s been hours and I’m still not sure how to feel about what happened earlier. I doubt I’ll ever be able to reconcile the two halves of me — the one who hates them, and the one who wants them — but what I do know is that things are changing. The more we interact, the harder it is for Asher to hold onto his grudge. The more I give in, the more human I become to Manson. Things will almost certainly get worse before they get better, but I have hope after today.
Maybe that makes me delusional.
Sometimes, delusion is the key to survival.
So when I hear the Maverick pull in and the engine cut off, I shut my laptop and make my way to the living room to wait for them.
My wrists are chafing from the cuffs, but I try to keep a sweet expression on my face as they unlock the door and come in. If I’m positive and sweet, maybe they’ll realize they’ll get further by treating me like they did this morning.
Manson smiles when he sees me waiting. “Hey, pet. We’re gonna try something new today.” Asher moves toward me before I can ask what. “We need you to relax and—”
A pinprick of pain in the back of my arm makes me cry out.
Manson sighs. “Well, fuck.”
“What? We were gonna do it whether she agrees or not,” Asher growls.
I drop my eyes to his hands to see what he did, but all I can see are the thick spatters of blood coating his clothes. Were they in another fight? Manson’s hand looks like it went through a meat grinder, but as I take a step toward him to get a closer look, my legs give out.
I’m completely unable to break my fall. I think I’m reaching out to brace myself, but I crash face first into the ground.
I can’t move a fucking muscle. “What did you do?” I rush out, eyes darting around trying to find them. “What did you give me?”
“It’s called Sway,” Manson explains, grabbing me under the arms and pulling me up into a sort of sitting position. I start to slump the moment he lets me go. “Shit. Uhh, yeah. It’s Provost Creed’s proudest achievement. Don’t ask me how he did it, but he — or some shady fucking chemists he paid, I don’t know — figured out the formula. It targets the part of your brain in charge of muscle control. You’re not paralyzed, your brain just can’t send signals to your arms and legs until it wears off. You’ll still feel pain, pleasure, and be able to talk and move your head, but that’s about it. Makes a great interrogation tool.”
I bet it does. He’s right though, I feel the little spots of pain throughout my body from the fall, feel my heart thundering wildly in my chest — but I can’t do anything at all. “Why?” I ask, voice breaking. “I did what you wanted this morning. I let you put the cuffs back on. I’ve been good.”
“You have,” Asher replies. “And this isn’t a punishment. We want to play.” His eyes look a little wider, pupils blown as he regards me, and I immediately know it’s because he has complete control of me like this. He looks... excited.
Maybe it’s really not a punishment.
It sure feels like one as they pick my limp body off the ground and carry me to Manson’s bedroom, though.
“You said it makes a great interrogation tool,” I repeat. “Does that mean you torture people with this?”
Neither of them respond until I’m laying naked on his down comforter and they’re looming over me. Ash leans in, sliding some stray hair behind my ear, and then he meets my gaze. “Do you really want to know?”
Probably not, at least until this shit wears off. But if that’s what their idea of “play” is...
Terror explodes in my chest that I try to bite back. “Just please don’t use fire,” I whisper. “Please.”
“This is why we should’ve talked to her first,” Manson mumbles.
Surprisingly, Asher nods in agreement. “Yeah, maybe. We won’t use fire.” Something akin to regret flashes across his face, but he’s blinking it away the moment his fingers pinch my nipple.
Manson sighs, leaning over so I can see his face better. “What he meant to say is that we won’t be torturing you at all. Right, you big brute?”
“Yeah... that’s what I meant.”
They share a look before Manson is backing away toward his closet, and when he returns with a vibrator, I have to wonder how long they’ve had it. I don’t have the balls to ask.
But it does make me extremely curious what they’re doing here. “Is that for me?”
“We have to get you nice and wet so you can take what we’re going to do tonight.” When he clicks it on I’m reminded of the fact that I can’t move a muscle. Asher positions my legs so they’re wide, both of them staring down at my pussy like they’re starved, and I realize I’m in way over my head here.
I can’t squirm away or make them stop. There’s absolutely nothing I can do to lessen the pressure or hide from an orgasm, and honestly?
I think that makes me wet enough on its own. I might’ve agreed to this willingly if they’d have talked to me first.
I might’ve even begged for it.
“You’re gonna do it again, aren’t you?” I ask breathlessly. “Both of you in my pussy at once.”
The expression on both of their faces when they meet each other’s eyes answers for them. “How does that make you feel? You’ll be awake this time.”
Manson presses the vibe to my clit and then takes it away, making me gasp. “I—”
Fuck, he’s right. I won’t be able to hide behind my disorder this time. Whatever enjoyment I get, whatever I say out loud, it’s all me. It’s all real, and they’ll know it.
Fuck it. I can’t do anything to stop them, so why not enjoy it? Especially since this isn’t a punishment now, but it could quickly become one. I saw how disappointed Asher looked when I told him he wasn’t allowed to burn me again.
“Okay. Yes, okay. Fuck.”
“Good girl,” Manson growls, pressing it to my clit again as Asher takes off his shirt and tosses it aside.
“How does it feel to be under Sway? Do you feel vulnerable?”
Knowing my step-brother I know exactly what answer he wants to hear — and for once, I give it to him.
“Yes. I feel... completely exposed, and I know I can’t stop you from doing whatever you want to me. I’m also a little terrified.”
That makes him smile. Evil asshole.
“You should be. But we gave our word, and that means something. Just breathe... relax... give in.”
He pinches my nipple harder this time, making my clit throb as my body tries to respond, but fails.
Fuck, this is weird.
“You’re asking me to trust you,” I huff. “That’s—oh.” Manson touches the vibrator to my pussy again, cutting my words off. It has my eyes closing and back wanting to bow, but my body stays completely still. It’s such an odd feeling.
When two fingers slide inside of me, my eyes shoot open and lock with Asher’s sharp green stare. “You were saying?”
This could end up being one of the best experiences I’ve ever had, or it could be the worst. It’s entirely dependent on how I respond here.
“I was going to say that’s easier said than done, but I’m trying, Asher. I promise I’m trying.”
It’s the best I can do as Manson brings me closer to the edge and then abruptly stops, leaving me panting and desperate for him to finish what he started.
God, not being able to move is frustrating.
“She’s looking desperate already, Manson. Look at the way she’s breathing.”
Both of them are hard already, and something about knowing they’re like this because of me is empowering. Is it possible to feel vulnerable and empowered at the same time?
When Asher reaches over to help Manson get out of his clothes, I have to add jealousy to the list.
They’re so soft with each other, so... tender. The love and trust I see between them makes my stomach churn. They love and trust me so much they had to paralyze me just so they could get what they want, and I can’t even blame them for it. They’re right. If they hadn’t given me Sway, I’d have kicked and screamed and argued just out of pride. Just out of some twisted sense of self-preservation, so I wouldn’t have to admit that I want someone to love and trust me like that, too.
Not someone. Them.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Did we forget to mention Sway also heightens your emotions?” Manson asks, softly wiping a tear from my cheek that I didn’t realize was there. “It doesn’t fabricate them, but it does amplify what’s already there. It’s an interesting side effect of freeing up all that brainpower. What’s the matter, pet? Tell us.”
I can’t. Jesus H Christ and his descendants, I can’t admit that out loud. “I’m okay,” I lie. “That was just really intense.”
Manson nods like he understands, but with the way Ash is looking at me, I know he’s trying to see through my mask. “It’s okay to cry,” Manson adds. “I imagine this whole experience will be intense for you, Rhea.”
It feels a little like an olive branch. Finally, one of them is admitting this may not be easy for me, and for the first time, they won’t blame me for the emotions I feel.
They should’ve given me this shit on day one.
“Ash?” I whisper. I have to know if Manson is the only one who will cut me some slack here, or if it’s really okay. “Do you agree with him?”
Frowning, Ash closes the distance between us to cup my face, his thumb ghosting along my lips as he watches another tear slide out. “Yes.”
For a moment, I can’t do anything but stare into his eyes. There’s no malice there for once, no pain or anger or thirst for retribution. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looks vulnerable too. “Okay, then. Go ahead.”