Chapter 10 - Lila
LILA
My lungs burn, a raw, ragged fire with every gasping breath I suck in. I don’t know how I broke free, just a sudden shift in their grip, a split second of opportunity, and I was running.
The corn is a hostile wall, slapping at my bare breasts and face, the ripped corset flapping uselessly. My fairy wings are long gone, torn off in the initial struggle.
Their footsteps are a thunderous drumbeat behind me, a terrifying rhythm of pursuit.
I can hear them—the heavy, sure footfalls of White Mask, the rustling, almost silent rush of Burlap Sack, and the steady, predatory pace of Black Mask.
They’re not even running full out. They’re toying with me. Again.
Left. Right. Dead end.
Fuck.
I skid to a halt, my bare feet sliding in the dirt. A solid wall of stalks. No way out. I whirl around, my back pressing into the scratchy corn, my heart hammering against my ribs like it wants out.
They step into the small clearing, not even winded. Their masks are terrifying voids in the dim light.
White Mask is first, his chest rising and falling in a steady, controlled rhythm. He points a gloved finger at me. “Bad fairy,” he chides, his voice a low, amused rumble. “That wasn’t part of the game.”
“I think she needs to be punished,” Burlap Sack rasps, cracking his knuckles. The sound is obscenely loud.
“I think she needs to be fucked,” White Mask counters, taking a step forward.
“I think,” Black Mask says, his quiet voice slicing through the tension, “that I saw her first.” He steps between them, facing White Mask. “My turn.”
The air crackles, shifting from focused desire to something competitive, dangerous. White Mask shoves Black Mask’s shoulder. “The fuck you did. I had my mouth on her first. I’m splitting that cunt open.”
Black Mask doesn’t budge. “You got her tits. I want her throat. Or her ass. My choice.”
Burlap Sack laughs, that grotesque, rasping sound. “You two can argue. I’ll just take what’s mine.” He moves toward me, but White Mask grabs his arm, spinning him around.
It happens fast. A blur of motion. White Mask swings, Burlap Sack ducks, and his fist connects with Black Mask’s mask against his jaw with a sickening thwack.
Black Mask stumbles back, then lunges, tackling White Mask around the waist. They crash into the corn, a tangle of grunts and curses and the sound of tearing stalks.
Burlap Sack watches for a second, then turns his stitched-eyed gaze back to me. “Looks like it’s just you and me, Lila.”
He’s on me before I can process it, his body crushing me back against the corn. The rough burlap of his mask scratches my cheek. One hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back, while the other rips the remains of my skirt away. I’m naked now, completely exposed.
“Gonna fuck you right here while they fight over the scraps,” he growls into my ear. His free hand gropes between my legs, his thick fingers pushing roughly through my slick folds.
I’m so wet, so fucking ready, it’s disgusting.
“Jesus, you’re dripping for it. You love this, you twisted little bitch. You love us fighting over who gets to ruin you first.”
He spits on his fingers and shoves two inside me, a brutal, stretching invasion that makes me cry out.
It’s not pain. It’s a blinding, shocking jolt of pleasure-pain that whites out my vision for a second.
He pumps his fingers, crooking them, and my knees buckle. He holds me up easily, his strength terrifying.
Behind him, the other two are a storm of violence. White Mask gets the upper hand, pinning Black Mask to the ground, landing a punch to his gut. “She’s mine!” he snarls.
Black Mask knees him in the side, rolling them over. “You don’t get to claim her!”
Burlap Sack ignores them, his focus entirely on me. He withdraws his soaked fingers and brings them to my mouth. “Taste yourself. Taste how much you want our cocks.”
He smears my own wetness across my lips, and I open my mouth without thinking, my tongue licking his rough, calloused fingers clean. The taste is musky, salty, purely me. He groans, low and appreciative.“Fuck yes. Now get on your knees.”
He shoves me down into the dirt. I land hard, the impact jarring.
I look up at him, at the terrifying blank face of burlap, as he fumbles with his jeans. He frees his cock, and oh god, it’s thick and ruddy, jutting out from a thatch of dark hair. He’s not as long as White Mask, but he’s fucking thick.
He slaps it against my cheek, the heat of it branding me. “Open wide, Lila. You’re gonna suck me off while you watch your masters fight.”
I part my lips, and he doesn’t wait. He grips the back of my head and rams himself into my mouth. I gag immediately, tears springing to my eyes as the head hits the back of my throat.
He holds me there for a second, forcing me to breathe through my nose, my body trembling. “That’s it,” he rasps, his hips twitching. “Take it. Your fucking mouth is so hot. So tight.”
He starts to move, a short, brutal rhythm that doesn’t allow me to adjust. I can only take it, my throat stretching obscenely around him. Saliva drips down my chin. My hands are braced on his thighs, and I can feel the powerful muscles working as he fucks my face.
The sounds of the fight are just background noise now. A grunt of pain. The rustle of corn. But it fuels this; it makes it dirtier.
I’m a prize they’re brawling over, and right now, Burlap Sack is winning.
He pulls out of my mouth with a wet pop, my lips swollen and slick. “On your hands and knees. Now. I want that ass in the air. I want to see that pretty pink cunt from behind while I decide which hole to wreck.”
I scramble to obey, my body buzzing with a need so profound it feels like insanity. The cool dirt is rough on my palms and knees. I press my forehead to the earth, presenting myself, my ass in the air, completely vulnerable.
He kneels behind me, his hands spreading my cheeks apart. The cool air hits my most private places, and I flinch.
“Look at that,” he murmurs. “Both holes are fucking gleaming for me. Which one, prize? Your dripping wet pussy? Or this tight little asshole that’s never been touched?”
Before I can answer, a shadow falls over us.
“Get the fuck off her.”
White Mask stands there, his plastic mask smeared with dirt. Black Mask is on the ground behind him, groaning, holding his side. White Mask’s knuckles are bloody.
Burlap Sack doesn’t move. “I won.”
“The fuck you did.” White Mask’s voice is cold, deadly. “She’s mine. I’m going first. You can have her when I’m done. Move.”
The standoff hangs in the air, thick and tense. Burlap Sack’s hand is still on my ass, possessive. White Mask takes another step, his presence overwhelming.“I said… Get the fuck off my prize.”