3. - – Corvina Whitmore
CHAPTER THREE
-
CORVINA WHITMORE
It's been a few days since being here, and all I want is fucking alcohol just to numb the fact that my days are numbered.
I haven't seen the caveman anywhere, but Diana has been taking care of me.
I will have to thank her when I get a job around here.
There is a florist in the main camp; it's like a little village here, but in a cult-like manner.
So far, I haven't seen any deaths, but it can change in the next few hours, as there is a festival tonight called “Devil's Delight”.
Diana said it's the God that gathers us together to pray to him, have food and drink, celebrate him.
If you are new in the cult, you will get branded on the ass cheek with the demon symbol.
So essentially it's a welcoming party with a hangover and a burnt ass cheek.
Well, at least I won't have a one-night stand here.
I walk into my cabin. What the fuck is that on my wall? It looks like a vagina painted with red paint on a canvas above my bed with some pink peony flowers in a vase. I walk up to the painting, and I can see there is writing in there as I squint to read it.
“Ever wanted to taste the forbidden fruit, little overdose?”
Overdose? Okay, yes. I've overdosed a few times, but not since I've been here. Also, is that a clit piercing I'm looking at?
Somehow, I've gained a stalker who paints me vaginas.
I'm not going to lie, I've never been with a girl fully.
This is making me feel a certain way. I feel aroused.
My clit pulsates as I look at this painting, so I decide to flick the bean over my new stalker.
I look for other clues in the cabin that indicate who it could be. Check if they took anything.
I look through the clothes Diana gave me, which is a mixture of styles, and what the fuck? The little fuck nugget stole all my underwear. What a pain in the ass when I mostly wear dresses.
I look in the kitchen to see if anything has changed.
There's a coffee machine and pods, and the cupboard, fridge, and freezer are stocked up with my favourite foods and drinks.
What the fuck? They've done their research on me.
Next, I check the bathroom, and all the products I currently use back home are here.
From bath salts, bubble baths, and candles to my skin care.
There is a compartment for my makeup and hair products.
I can finally have my wavy hair back. As creepy as this may be, I should leave a thank-you note or a little present.
The only thing I can think of is making cakes.
Although they made sure there was no alcohol, but left flavoured water, energy drinks, and fizzy beverages.
Walking back into the kitchen, I find a pen and a notepad, and I start to write.
“Hey, thank you for helping me out. Although whoever you are, can I have my underwear back? I don't want my pussy to shrivel up from the cold like a sponge. Is there anything I can do to repay your act of kindness?”
I sign it off with my name and leave it on the counter in case they come back, or maybe I'll bump into them out and about. Either way, I want my underwear back and a caramel latte with whipped cream. So I can feel somewhat normal staying here.
I put on the kettle and start making up my latte, I need to have a plan because fuck dying here.
I walk into the bedroom to see what I can find.
I grab a pair of black leggings out the drawer and a black lace-up crop top.
Thick grey socks and by the looks of it some trainers for running for my fucking life and braving what the fuck I have signed up for, Jesus Christ. Hopefully, I find the underwear kidnapper.
I bet it was that fucking caveman that brought me here and needed it for his little dick energy power wank to get him through the day.
I braid my hair in a fishtail plait and start to get ready for the Devil’s Delight night by walking into the bathroom and doing my skincare.
My skin is dry like a nun’s cunt. Once the moisturiser hits my face and starts melting into my skin after washing it, it is the most refreshing thing since being here.
Although fuck doing my makeup, I don’t want to be remembered as the bitch with the flawless base, sister slay.
No, I want to be remembered for wanting to fight to stay alive.
It’s 6 PM, and the sun is going down, fuck, that means it’s almost time.
I’m not scared of death; survival is what I fear, and how long I can cheat death before it hands me the diploma of death.
Walking through the forest to Devil's Delight Night, all I can see is an open fire roaring in rage.
Smoke fills my lungs while people dance around with what looks like blood on their faces as a form of face paint.
Women cry as they are owned by their masters, with collars around their necks and them on their knees.
They are drinking and smoking god knows what.
And as much as my body craves it, I need to be on high alert because fuck dying after drinking a pornstar martini.
I need to avoid the cult leader’s daughter; from the sounds of it, she's a savage, a walking black flag with spikes on it.
I don't see anyone I know from the last few days, not even the caveman - Fuck.
Walking to sit on the log bench, I see a woman staring at me. Why the fuck does she look pissed and so intense?
Her piercing green eyes could cut through glass. Her hair is tied up in a ponytail, and she is wearing a long-sleeved black top and camouflage trousers that hug her thighs and ankles. With military boots. She is attractive, especially under the light of the flame.
I look away as I cannot be distracted; also, I'm not a lesbian. I've kissed my friends, a little peck here and there, and a kiss on the forehead, but nothing sexual. I know I'm not in denial, but maybe one night with her before I die might not be a bad idea.
Rest in pussy: Corvina Whitmore.
First try, first ride, and first to die.
Ah, yes, that should be on my grave.
I see Mister Caveman sitting next to the woman that I clearly wasn't girl-crushing on. I can look and not touch, just like when I go into a book shop.
Can't blame a girl that loves a cozy slow burn romance, with a cheeky fuck it moment. Maybe this is what this is? No, Corvina, your delulu-brain is showing again.
Anyway, I try not to look at them, I'm not jealous - I don't want to be someone's sloppy seconds.
Suddenly, the party is interrupted as an announcement is made.
A man with a microphone and a cough says, “Ladies, gentlemen, and people of the Lost Soul Camp. I would like to introduce the God of the lost souls, remember there will be a sacrifice tonight, and the God will choose his wife.”
The man turns off the microphone and places it into the stand.
I hold my breath as I see a man in a white robe, dark stubble on his face, tattoos on his neck and hands. Normally, a wet dream of mine, but now, a dry spell.
“Hello everyone, you may call me Dorian Hunter. Tonight, someone will be sacrificed, and someone will be my wife. When the clock strikes 12, the ceremony will begin. Eat as much food and drink as much wine as you can.” Dorian cheerfully says, as if sacrificing is normal on a casual Sunday.
As the celebration resumes, I look over, and Mister Caveman is missing. Maybe he has decided to run before he gets sacrificed. Diana comes and sits next to me on the log and hands me a red plastic cup with red wine in it.
“You need to loosen up, girl, this is why people are partying and drinking as much as they can before their death.” Diana rubs my back to comfort me, or at least tries.
“Pfft, I'm known for being a druggy princess and drinking until I black out mainly to grieve my ex-boyfriend. Even if I drink this, I'm just proving to everyone that's all I am.” I swirl what's in the cup and look at it, but I feel numb to it.
“Corvina, I have met many people here, and do you know why you are so different from the rest of them? You would rather fight than stay in the pit of shit your brain is putting you through. Whatever happens, you can breathe, believe, and build yourself with each brick at a time.” Diana sparks up a cigarette as she continues.
“People like you need to stop thinking of the past; it's the future you have to worry about. Time is precious, Corvina. Remember that for me.”
I take in what Diana says because she is not wrong; time is precious. Survival is key, and I'm not in the past anymore. So I nod and look at the people around me, taking it in and taking in a breath.
“You are right, you are absolutely right.” I bring the cup to my lips until the smell of rich amber and warm florals with a hint of musk hits me.
It's her, the goosebumps rise across my body, and my nipples harden. I turn to see her; she's behind me with a devilish smirk.
“My, my, Overdose. You never learn, do you? You are so needy for that drink, aren't you? Maybe I can provide another kind of liquid that would make you addicted.” She goes on her knees before me. “Come on, Overdose. Play with me. Let me be your addiction to death.”
I roll my eyes, but I nod.
Without a thought, and a fucking brave idea, this could be the best or worst idea ever, but fuck it.
I take my blood red wine into my mouth, making out I am going to drink it, but then I spit it directly into her face and stick up my middle finger.
The wine drips from her face, and Diana is in shock as if this is my death wish, but at this point, I'm not going to be someone's bitch.
“You know, Overdose, normally I would kill a cunt for doing that to me, but you, I want to do much, much worse to.”
I hold her gaze, never breaking eye contact, rage builds up inside me, but I smile. “Bring it bitch.”
She smiles back, but her eyes darken, primal and hungry for me. If I'm her meal, I hope she knows how to fucking eat me, not play with me.
“I suggest you fucking run, Overdose. I'll hunt the fuck out of you and have you begging for salvation.
I'll make sure your orgasms and screams are just for me.
I don't care if you are muddy, covered in blood, or some other person's cum, you are mine, Corvina Whitmore. You better give a good game of cat and mouse, or I will make you do it again until you pass out and I still have my way with you.” Her voice is deeper than most females, a masculine tone that's making me melt.
Especially when she talks to me like that.
I bite my lip as I cross my arms, “If I play your little game and I win, I want one night of punishing you.
I don't care how I punish you; I want you to learn a fucking lesson.
Whores don't get rewarded. I assume your pussy has been around the whole cult, and I'm your next fresh meat.” I laugh, I fucking laugh!
This person can end my life in a heartbeat.
“Game on, Overdose, start fucking running. I can't wait to break you.” The woman purrs.
I look at Diana and give her a hug, then I run into the darkness of the woods.
And all I can hear is Miss Muscle Mommy shouting, “You can't hide from me forever.”