Chapter 16 Monroe
MONROE
Seven Months Prior to Present Day,
The February Full Moon Ceremony,
Sigma
Nothing could have prepared me.
I follow Kieren through the eerily quiet halls of Sigma.
His fingers intertwine with mine with a tightness that feels both possessive and protective.
My heart pounds in my chest as we weave through the maze of corridors and down flights of stairs until we finally reach the dimly lit stairwell that leads to the basement.
Fear churns in my stomach. We descend the steps and halt at the closed door.
A downdraft of frigid air snakes over my skin, and I visibly start shaking.
I bite my lower lip to steady my chattering teeth, but it’s useless.
Kieren raps a specific sequence of knocks against the heavy wood door, and it swings open. Warm air immediately billows into the stairwell, and for a fleeting moment, I have the stupid notion that all will be okay.
We step into the basement, and my stomach drops.
Maroon floods the space: in the drapes that hang on the walls, the color of the floor, the strange furniture, and the light illuminating the room.
Everywhere I look is doused in blood red.
Kieren strides toward an elevated stage where a singular chair is placed. No, not a chair. A throne. A gold and black ornate throne carved with ancient lettering and one large Sigma symbol in the center. It’s otherworldly.
Kieren easily scales the elevated platform in one step, turns, and hinges from the waist to lift me up.
“Kneel,” he commands and points to the space beside the throne. “Here.”
I should refuse. I should tell him to go fuck himself, but in this moment, my better judgement gives way to fear and I drop, kneeling beside the throne of my keeper.
My eyes dart around the room as Kieren lowers himself onto the seat, assuming his position of power.
Men, I hadn’t initially noticed, stand at attention around the rim of the room.
All wear black pants and no shirt. All have on the same black demon animal mask covering the top half of their face emblazoned with a gold Sigma symbol in the middle of the forehead.
I squint, attempting to focus. It must be a horned goat or sheep.
I realize dark maroon curtains hang from different spots in the ceiling, partitioning off chambers and private pockets within the large room.
A soft noise, maybe music of some kind, plays in the background, and I find the sound strangely comforting.
“Bring in the Sinners,” Kieren booms. His voice cuts through the stagnant air, and five seconds later, the basement door creaks open.
A woman, naked save for her baby-blue lace bra and matching panties, stands in the doorway with a black cloth bag over her head.
Black leather cuffs bind her wrists together in front of her.
A masked man grips her arm and carefully guides her forward.
My nails unknowingly dig into the skin of my thighs as I watch woman after woman, all dressed the same, all with bags over their heads, being led inside the basement.
What the actual fuck?
One after another, the procession walks in a straight line. I count at least fifteen. Maybe more. They are positioned shoulder-to-shoulder, facing Kieren. Once the last woman is brought in and properly stationed, the basement door shuts.
“Kneel,” Kieren commands.
The women awkwardly get down on their knees.
“Nominating Sigmas, step forward.”
Masked demon goat men push off the walls.
“Take your position behind your Sinner.”
Masked men filter behind the rows of women until the ratio is one to one.
“Remove the sight restraints,” Kieren commands.
In a smooth, cohesive motion, the bags are removed.
I try to study each woman’s face, but it’s difficult to discern identities because each wears a black lace eye mask. The lace pattern is not dense enough to limit their sight, but sufficiently gauzy to create a haze, much like the pattern of my tiny lace skirt.
As I look down the line, expecting to see expressions of fear or panic, I’m surprised to find a mix of grins, smirks, and even a few closed-mouth giggles.
I don’t know what these women have been told about the initiation Ceremony.
Kieren has described it as a little sister’s program, and that it’s considered an honor, but I’ve also heard him call it different things.
He’s called it Sigma Little Sisters, which sounds innocuous, but he also keeps referring to the women as ‘Sinners.’ Yet, as I continue to scan their faces, no one seems frightened.
In fact, some fight to stop themselves from bursting into laughter.
What the fuck is going on here? Coming from someone who is usually the most gullible person in the room, I’m fucking terrified. Is it the drugs? Did they also take molly? And if so, why the fuck isn’t mine working?
The strange background noise stops, and the room goes silent.
Kieren stands.
“Sinners,” he booms, addressing the women. His voice is stern and unwavering.
“You are the selected few, brought here today by the hands of the Sigma brothers who deem you worthy. Tonight, you shall become part of something bigger. Tonight, you shall become part of Sigma’s legacy.
Tonight, you shall be taught our traditions – traditions we have fought to keep secret.
Secrets, which if shared, could put the Sigma Brotherhood at risk. ”
“Sinners, I ask you, do you present yourselves true, and do you swear that you are not here with ill intent?”
“We swear.”
I blink my surprise at the sound of unanimous female voices who answer without hesitation or smidgen of trepidation.
“Do you swear yourselves to the Brotherhood? To come when called upon? To serve our Sigma brothers?”
“We swear.”
“Do you swear to withhold yourself from relations outside of the Brotherhood? To abstain from carnal desires with non-members? Do you swear to offer yourselves fully to the Brotherhood, mind, body, and soul?”
“We swear.”
“And lastly, do you swear your loyalty? Do you swear to keep our secrets? To never speak of what happens within these walls of Sigma to anyone, not friends, not family, not your closest confidants?”
“We swear.”
“Repeat after me: I swear my soul to Sigma.”
“I swear my soul to Sigma.”
This time, it’s not just the women who repeat the chant, but the men too. I’m unsure if I’m meant to do so as well, but I don’t move my lips. Instead, I bow my head, praying my disobedience goes unnoticed.
“The spilling of Sigma’s secrets is punishable by death.”
“The spilling of Sigma’s secrets is punishable by death.”
“A death which I will gladly accept should I prove disloyal.”
“A death which I will gladly accept should I prove disloyal.”
“Should I be called upon in the name of Moloch, I offer my soul as sacrifice.”
“Should I be called upon in the name of Moloch, I offer my soul as sacrifice.”
My lips quiver, my hands have gone clammy because what in the actual cult have I unknowingly joined? Not a single peep of dissent.
“Congratulations, initiates, for you are no longer Sinners in the eyes of Sigma, and later tonight, after you receive your brand, you shall from now on be known as Sigma Little Sisters, binding your soul to the Brotherhood.”
Kieren pauses and then shouts, “Let the Ceremony begin!”
Trap music fills the space, a jarring contrast to Kieren’s broadcast. Women are helped to their feet.
Wrists are unhooked, but the cuffs remain, as do the lace masks.
Men and women mingle, some lounge on furniture around the room, and some sit on pillows strewn across the floor.
Cups begin circulating with what I assume is alcohol.
I make the mistake of glancing to my right and see a masked brother standing against the wall while a woman kneels at his feet.
Another masked brother kneels behind the woman, stroking the woman’s ribcage as she unzips the standing man’s pants.
My eyes flare wide when I see his cock spring free.
The woman grasps the base of his shaft while she licks and sucks at his tip.
The man’s head tilts backward, and I can hear his moans even from where I’m stationed.
The man kneeling behind the woman now fondles her breast with one hand and fingers her pussy with the other.
She rocks into his fingers, releasing moans of her own, as she deep-throats the cock in her mouth.
Heat spears my core at the sight, but I remain kneeling because, honestly, I don’t know what else to do.
My initial shock has subsided, and now I’m flooded with self-consciousness.
I’m a voyeur watching an orgy unfold, and I have to mentally shoo away my traitorous fingers every few seconds because they keep drifting toward my center.
“Puppy,” Kieren says, keeping his voice at a volume only I can hear. “Come sit on my lap.”
My body feels fuzzy as I stand. My legs tingle with dissipating numbness.
I sit at an angle as Kieren wraps his arms around my waist, and I lean into him, fighting the urge to curl against his chest like a child.
His dress pants are tented with the beginnings of an erection, and I have an overwhelming urge to unzip them.
His right hand slides effortlessly under the leather triangle of my bra, and he begins to knead my right breast, stroking and squeezing and twisting my nipple between his fingers.
I arch into the heightened stimulation and almost don’t notice his other hand pushing past the elastic band of the thong.
Thick fingers tease at my clit before dipping inside.
“You’re soaked, puppy.” The first two pumps of his fingers are reserved, but that doesn’t last. I writhe against him as he buries his fingers to the knuckle.
“You’re so fucking turned on by this, aren’t you?”
His right hand greedily slides across my chest, and in the process, exposes both breasts. The triangle top might as well be on the floor, but I suppose that was the point.
“Turn around and fuck me,” he growls through his mask, removing his fingers from my pussy. The unexpected and immediate absence of pressure almost brings me to tears.
A momentary flicker of hesitation passes through my consciousness. Am I really doing this? I guess so.
I climb around to face him and shamelessly tear his zipper apart.
It takes effort to pull his boxer briefs over his fully erect penis, but at last, I have him freed.
Using the head of his cock, I push my thong aside and once it’s aligned with my entrance, I sink down on his length, and goddamn…
nothing has ever felt so good. I pant unabashedly as I grind myself against him until I feel the firm resistance of his pubic bone against my clit.
The teeth of the zipper scratch the insides of my thighs in a way that feels strangely good.
If I could feel my quads, which I can’t, I’m sure they would be on fire with the amount of bouncing I’m doing.
Is this why people caution against having sex on ecstasy – because nothing will ever feel as euphoric again?
I don’t even have the benefit of the clamps or our usual pain play to heighten my pleasure.
But in this moment, I don’t need them. I want to savor this feeling.
I want to remember how good the veins of his dick feel as they glide against my walls, because I can fucking feel each and every one of them.
The overwhelming urge to cry surges behind my eyes, and more than anything else, I need to kiss him.
I can’t bear to look at the sight of Kieren’s demonic mask. It feels wrong. I try to lift it, but he shakes his head.
“Please kiss me. Please.” My words sound more like a sob than a beg.
“Please,” I ask again. I hear my voice growing desperate as if I’m having an out-of-body experience, and I physically feel my heart start to break.
I might have started crying. I don’t know.
But as soon as I see Kieren slide his mask back, exposing the bottom half of his face, my lips crash against his.
I kiss him with more hunger and desire than I’ve ever felt before.
I cup his face as best I can despite the interference from both our masks, and relish in the heat of his skin, damp and sticky with sweat.
The pad of my thumb skims over his slim silver nose ring and brushes along the ridge of his cheekbone.
I want to memorize the feel of his face in this moment.
His tongue fills my mouth, and this taste alone could satiate me for a thousand years.
The swirl of bodies around us blurs until it’s only me and Kieren, cocooned in a vortex of blood red clouds, and I crest with the beginnings of an orgasm.
I mean to tell Kieren that I’m going to come, but when I open my mouth, something completely different tumbles out.
“I love you.”
My core tightens, and my orgasm builds to that sinfully delicious tipping point of inexplicable pleasure. I grind against him, harder and harder, reaching for his hand, fumbling with his fingers, pressing two firm against my clit as the room spins faster.
Nerve endings quiver from my clit back to my entrance.
The shake of my orgasm builds with momentum and intensity deep within my core, my breath catches in my throat, and then that blissful feeling of descending release sends me over the edge.
“I love you,” I cry out, unable to control myself as my pussy pulses with sweet relief.
Kieren’s cock gushes hot cum inside me a second later, and slowly, once the chaos around me settles, I come to a stop.
A genuine smile spreads across my face as I plant soft pecks against his lips.
I’ve never thought myself the type to enjoy sex in public, and yet I’ve never felt so liberated.
“I love you Kieren,” I whisper against his skin, my mind still effervescent with elation.
But he doesn’t say it back.
Seconds pass, and he doesn’t say it back.
A sobering tightness constricts in my chest. My palms are still pressed against his cheeks.
His flaccid cock twitches inside me, expelling the last drops of his release.
Cum leaks from my pussy, soaking through my thong.
Confused and dizzy, I pull back to look at him, the expressionless, bottom half of his face is all I can see.
His lips are pressed together in finite resolve, and it occurs to me… He’s not going to say it.
The beginnings of a smirk tug at one corner of his mouth. I watch, frozen, as his hand lifts to pull his mask back in place. But, he pauses. His mouth opens to speak, and each beat of my heart thunders in my ears.
“I know,” he says.
And with those two words, that beating, foolish heart of mine shatters.