Chapter 14
14
T hey left me to anticipate my punishment all day. I sit on my bed with my comforter wrapped as tightly as I can around me, and stare out the window watching the sun fall lower as the sky becomes an explosion of color.
I considered hiding from them, but I’ve barely moved all day. I haven’t even felt the gnawing hunger that has been my companion for the last… how long has it been?
Seven—no, six days.
I think.
Any minute now, they’ll emerge from—wherever it is they spend the hours while the sun is up. Every creak this old manor makes causes me to flinch. I swear I’ve been hearing footsteps coming from down the hall for the last few hours. However, the ones echoing outside my door right this minute are clearly real. Any second now, they’ll walk through my door.
There it is—the groan of my door opening, followed by the soft click of the latch as it shuts.
It’s time.
Silence stretches before Beckett speaks. “Come, little thief.”
I keep my head down, neither crying nor begging this time, but each step feels like I’m walking to my death, while the soft whisper of the comforter drags behind me.
I stop when I see the tips of their shoes, and hesitate to look up. When I finally do, I’m greeted by Quinn’s mischievous grin. The lack of anger in his expression gives me hope that I might survive this after all.
“Evening, sweetheart,” he says, his voice almost cheerful. “Hope you’re well rested.”
Well, I suppose it was foolish to hope.
I meet Beckett’s calm, calculating gaze. I expect him to taunt me with their plans, yet somehow, his silence is worse.
Whit lingers a few steps behind them, his expression unreadable, but there’s a tension in his shoulders that makes me uneasy. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want to be here—or as if something about this is unsettling him.
Whatever’s about to happen to me must be truly horrific.
My anticipation grows as the silence stretches. Unable to stand it another second, I swallow hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “What do you want?”
“What do we want?” Quinn repeats, tilting his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. He steps closer, and I instinctively shrink back, tightening my grip on the comforter. “We told you, bad girls get punished.”
I take another step back—only to collide with a hard body. I’m immediately enveloped in something rich and woodsy—sandalwood with a hint of worn leather.
Beckett.
His voice vibrates behind me. “You hit Quinn,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And actions have consequences.”
“I—I didn’t mean to,” I stammer, my voice trembling, hoping they’d see reason. “I was angry, I?—”
“Save it,” Whit says, finally speaking. His voice is low but firm, sending a shiver down my spine. “You’ve got two choices: take your punishment like a good girl, or make this harder on yourself. Personally, I’m hoping you’ll go for option two.”
The words make my stomach twist, and I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. “Okay,” I whisper. “W-what are you going to d-do to me?” They circle me, crowding me between them, causing my fear to skyrocket and my teeth to chatter.
Quinn snaps his hand out, grabbing me by the jaw and bringing his face close to mine. “I love how fear makes the blue of your eyes impossibly bright,” he says, ignoring my question. “Now, drop the blanket.”
I do as I’m told.
“Good girl. Now, take this off.” He brushes one of the thin straps off my shoulder. His firm grip never leaves my jaw as he kisses me hard before pushing me away.
I feel my face burn with embarrassment. I know they’ve seen every inch of me, but I’d been blindfolded. This is crossing the line into sin—welcoming shame—that I can no longer rationalize.
I don’t know if I can do it.
Beckett’s lips brush my ear. “Do as you’re told, little thief, or I’ll rip the damn thing off of you. Then I’ll bend you over my knee and spank your sweet little ass until your cunt is dripping with need.”
I’m too stunned to move as I try to unravel the meaning of his words. I must take too long, because his arms snake around me, his hands dragging along my body. He grips the top of my little silk nightie—my last line of defense—and tears it down the center. Cool air brushes against my naked body.
“I’ll be honest,” he says, ghosting his lips down my neck. “I was hoping I’d get to do that.” He buries one hand into my dark hair, gripping tightly at the scalp before pulling my head back and exposing my neck to them. “Are you going to be a good girl for us, little thief?”
All I manage is a squeak.
Whit drags a chair to the center of the room, and Beckett takes a seat, pulling me across his lap by my hair. He positions me with my naked rear in the air, and my face grows impossibly hotter being so exposed, as his callused hand makes soft circles across my naked skin.
“Here’s what’s going to happen, princess,” Whit says, crouching to look me in the eyes. “Beck here is going to set that ass on fire, and each time his palm cracks against your cheeks, you’re going to count for us.”
“How many, Quinn?” Beckett asks, his circles never ceasing. The gentle movements make me squirm as my core begins to ache for… I don’t know what.
“How old are you, sweetheart?” Quinn asks, stepping in front of me as Whit moves aside.
“Twenty-five,” I say, my voice breathy and unfamiliar.
“Twenty-five it is,” he says, bringing his hand up to caress the side of my face. I instinctively lean into his touch. “Be a good girl for us and don’t forget to count. I’d hate for Beck to have to start all over.” His tone suggests that he would, in fact, not hate that at all.
Quinn keeps staring into my eyes as the first smack sends fire across my skin. “One,” I gasp, as Quinn’s smile grows into something wicked.
The next two land in quick succession. “Two, three!” I shout. Between Quinn’s icy blue unwavering stare and Beckett’s unpredictable timing with each strike, electric anticipation pulses through me.
Moans sneak out as inferno grows across my skin. At least there’s no room left for embarrassment, and for once, my racing mind is silent. Right now, the feeling is freeing. Later, I’ll feel differently, but at the moment, I can’t seem to care.
“You know,” Quinn says, “I thought I loved the way fear brightened your eyes best, but it turns out I was wrong. The way they are right now is my favorite—pupils blown wide and desperate for release.” A sharp crack sounds, and the heat building in my rear intensifies.
“Eleven,” I cry out, feeling the sting of tears trying to escape. After two more smacks, I lose the battle, and feel them streak down my cheeks.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” Quinn groans. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more beautiful, you go and cry.” He leans in and kisses the salty tracks.
After I finally reach twenty, I hear Beckett ask, “Whit, her cunt’s dripping isn’t it?” His voice is deep and gravelly.
“She’s such a mess,” Whit groans. “It’s running down her legs.” A quiet voice in the back of my mind whispers how shameful it is for my body to respond like this. I barely hear it before the next strike has the darkness within me smothering the tiny voice entirely.
“Twenty-one,” I gasp between sobs.
“Good girl,” Quinn murmurs as Beckett rubs the sting away. “You’re doing so well.” I barely register the final cracks, though I manage to count them out.
As the final strike lands, I sob uncontrollably, not even sure why. It’s nothing compared to Josiah’s belt, but the desperation inside me mingles with their praise, making me feel… adored.
I don’t understand what’s happening to me.
“Need to come?” Beckett asks. That must be what I’m so desperate for. My rear is on fire and yet I can feel my core clenching, aching to be filled. I manage a nod.
“Oh, sweetheart, you can do better than that,” Quinn says with a laugh. “Say, ‘Please, Mr. Beckett, sir, let me come.’”
I moan, the words slipping out in a whisper so low that even I can’t make sense of them. Another smack lands across my bare bottom, the heat in my skin nearing unbearable.
“Speak up, little thief,” Beckett says. “You were more than happy to raise your voice last night.”
“Please, Mr. Beckett, sir, let me come!” I manage between sobs.
“That’s better, but the only way you’re coming tonight, is around our cocks. Understand?” Beckett asks.
“Oh, God,” I whimper. “I—I don’t… that is…” Words stumble from my mouth, none forming a complete thought or even coming close to conveying my feelings. I’d convinced myself that everything until now wasn’t really bad—even if I had to squint to see it that way.
This, though?
There’s no denying I’m going to hell once all three take me. Josiah always said this is something only a husband—or a future husband—is supposed to have intimate knowledge of.
Is this how a soul gets devoured?
“We’ve told you, there’s no God here. If you want to come, all you have to do is beg for our cocks,” Beckett says as two of his fingers enter my sopping center. “Fuck, baby, you’re soaked for us.” He thrusts in and out a few times, but the second I moan he pulls out. I flinch when I feel one of his fingers, wet with my arousal, rub the tight ring that I know—for a fact—is not meant for this.
But apparently I’m wrong.
“Relax,” he commands, just as I feel his finger push past the resistance, and slowly slide into me.
It’s a strange feeling. I’m not sure I hate it, but I don’t think I love it either. All of these sensations confuse me. My hips move on their own—my center desperate for something to fill it. The motion makes Beckett’s finger slide in and out. It’s not unpleasant—it even sends a wave of pleasure through me. I release a desperate whine, the sound so wanton I barely recognize it as my own.
“Her cunt’s so greedy. Look at it, searching for a cock to fuck,” Quinn says. I whimper, knowing I’m about to willingly cross yet another line—the final line—one my purity will not survive.
“Please,” I whisper, embarrassment and shame finding cracks and weaving their way into my mind.
“Please, what?” Whit asks. I gasp as Beckett’s finger slowly pushes deeper.
I nearly forgot it was there.
“Please, I—I want your c-cocks,” even I can hear how pathetically desperate I sound.
“What do you want our cocks to do?” Quinn asks as he grabs me by the jaw and lifts my face to look at him. He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip, his eyes heating into liquid silver when my lips part, and he pushes his thumb into my mouth. My tongue swipes across the tip without thought.
“Fuuuck,” he swears under his breath.
“Fu-fuck me… please?” The plea is a muffled question—one I’m too embarrassed to demand, even if it’s exactly what I want.
“Go ahead, Whit,” Beck says.
I hear a belt unbuckle, fabric shifting, before something firm nudges at my entrance. He’s large. I panic. He’ll never fit—it’s impossible. Quinn removes his thumb, the movement distracting, and Whit presses forward—burying himself inside me. Quinn takes advantage of my scream, and shoves himself down my throat.
I gag.
And gag again.
Yet I feel myself release something warm and wet around Whit as he slowly slides in and out, giving me a moment to adjust to him.
“Fuck, princess” Whit groans. “She just soaked my cock after she gagged on Quinn’s.”
“Does the little thief love having all of her holes stuffed?” Beckett asks with a laugh. He brushes my hair from my face, his grip firm as he lifts my head slightly. Not a moment later Whit pulls out and slams into me, making Quinn push deeper, forcing me to swallow around him.
“Fuck, sweetheart, your mouth is too good,” Quinn groans. There’s something about their praise that makes warmth coil deep inside me, leaving me craving more. “Maybe you wanted this. Maybe you slapped me because you knew we’d make you pay for it.”
“Her pussy is so fucking tight and wet. She’s being such a good little slut for us,” Whit says, his voice sounds strained.
Beckett’s laughter rumbles through him. “She tightens around my finger every time someone praises her. You like being our good girl, don’t you, love?” Beckett asks. I can’t respond, so I just hum around Quinn in agreement.
“Oh, fuck,” Quinn groans as he pulls out of my mouth with an audible pop, leaving my chin damp. “I almost blew my load down her perfect throat.” He leans down to look me in the eyes as he wipes my face clean. “That’s not where I coming tonight. We’re going to fill your cunt, so you know exactly who it belongs to.”
Beckett removes his finger, and I’m shocked when I whimper at its sudden absence. Without pulling out of me, Whit wraps his arms around my waist and carries me to the edge of the bed. He drapes me over it, positioning me on my stomach with my feet dangling. Gripping my arms behind me, he uses them to set a punishing pace. All I hear is the wet slapping of our bodies each time they meet. The force of his thrusts is the only thing holding me in place.
“P-Please…” I beg him over and over, yet I couldn’t tell you what I’m begging for. I feel something pull tight—too tight—within me, and scream when it snaps. I feel myself clamp down around Whit, as he finishes inside me not a moment later. I’m certain there’s not a single bone left in my body.
I whimper as he slowly pulls out of me and then slaps my already abused rear. Sound is all I can manage; I’m too far gone, consumed by the fog of pleasure. While I’m aware of what’s happening around me, it’s as though I’m somewhere else at the same time.
“I think you broke her,” one of them—Quinn, I think—says with a laugh. I feel hands grip me, and I know I’m being moved, yet my body is like a rag doll—too limp to help. They move me further onto the bed, shoving my knees under my hips, and lay my head at the edge.
Beckett stands naked in front of me, having shed his clothing at some point—probably while Whit was stealing all of my bones.
And they call me the thief.
“Look at you, such a beautiful mess,” Beckett murmurs, caressing my face and sweeping my hair back so he can see me clearly. If I were in my right mind, I’d think he was lying—there’s no way I’m anything close to beautiful right now. From somewhere beside me, Whit gathers my hair in his grip and lifts my head just enough to align my mouth with Beckett’s hard length.
It’s so thick. I don’t remember it being this thick—maybe it’s the angle? Whit must sense my trepidation because he brings his lips to my ear and says, “Don’t worry, princess. Trust me—it’ll fit.” Then Beckett’s tip brushes my lips, and my mouth opens instinctively, stretching my jaw impossibly wide. Just as he pushes at the entrance of my bruised throat, Quinn fills me from behind in one hard thrust.
I hear their words of praise, and I feel them stretching me to my limits, but it’s not until I feel a tightening pull throughout my body again that some of the haze clears. I don’t know if I can handle another one, and this one feels like it’s going to shatter me completely.
“That’s it princess, be a good girl and come all over Quinn’s cock,” Whit says, as Beckett pulls out of my mouth.
“Now Celest—come now!” With Beckett’s words, I plummet over the edge, and fall hard into pleasure.
I was right—I’m completely shattered.
Quinn thrusts into me twice more before finishing, his release mixing with Whit’s. When he pulls out, I sigh and collapse on the bed, ready to sleep for an eternity.
“Not yet, good girl,” Beckett says. “Once more, and then you can sleep.” He pulls me away from the edge and then rolls me onto my back. He handles me with a gentle tenderness, as if I’m something precious. An emotion I buried long ago surfaces, and a tear tracks down my cheek.
He climbs on top of me, holds my gaze for a moment, then steals my mouth in a searing kiss. “Alright, Celest?” he asks when his lips leave mine. His voice is soft and caring—I’m certain no man has ever spoken to me like this before. I’ve never felt so cherished.
“Yes,” I respond, the word puffs out on a breath, barely audible.
“That’s my good girl,” he says with a wolfish smile before he pulls one of my legs over his shoulder and surges into me. “You’re so fucking perfect.” Each word is punctuated by the sound of our bodies colliding. I fight against the exhaustion threatening to pull me under. I don’t think I can handle shattering all over again—it might be the end of me.
“I—I can’t. Oh, god. Please Beckett, I can’t,” I say as an exhausted moan, filled with pleasure, rips from me. Laughter ripples through the room.
“Yes, you can,” he says. Beckett’s relentless in his pursuit of my pleasure and I feel myself starting to clench around him. “You’re almost there, my good girl. Come for me.”
I do.
My vision flares white, and the world drowns in a muted hum as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me. My mind is blissfully empty, my body weightless.
Maybe I’ll just float away.
I hear someone calling my name—once I remember I even have one—but exhaustion wins out, and sleep beckons. I’m almost positive I mumble something about sleep and barely register the cool drag of a damp cloth against my overheated skin. It’s possible I even sigh before succumbing to the depths of sleep.
On some level of consciousness, I know that when I wake, I’ll have to face the guilt and shame lurking beneath the surface. However, right now, my mind is too blank to care—and I love the way that feels.
The darkness within me sighs—a satisfied, lingering presence.