28. Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Eight
Francis
Last night was a clusterfuck. I wanted Antoinette to choose me.
To know that she had no choices other than me, that no matter what she did, who else she sought out, I would destroy them every single time.
That was the plan, but the useless worms I’d aligned myself with kept letting me down.
First, it had been Mitchell, whining about stealing a wheelbarrow from the maintenance crew, then it had been the bitch riding me who couldn’t even manage that wheelbarrow on her own, so I’d had to help her load the body into it and push it to the docks myself. Fucking annoying.
That was my only thought, even as one of those idiots bounced up and down on my balls. Honestly, her moaning was distracting.
“Harder!” She keened as I bucked my hips.
The skin around her neck was bruised and raw from the night before.
Antoinette liked to pretend I was the only violent one, but the signs were plain as day on this bitch’s neck that that wasn’t true.
I stared up at Stephanie’s cock-drunk face, contorted as she rode me, but it really took away from the fantasy.
It was making it hard to cum. So I grabbed her by that long ponytail and spun us so that her face was stuffed into my mattress.
After I woke up on that cabin floor, I’d kicked Mitchell in the shins until his ugly ass showed signs of life.
Then, I’d sent him to go look for my sister while I stumbled back to my cabin.
I needed to sleep and slap a fucking bandage on the stab wound in my shoulder.
When I woke up, Stephanie was already in my cabin. And already had my dick in her mouth. It was a good thing, too, otherwise I might have shot her right then and there for fucking things up so royally.
These cabin cots were uncomfortable as shit, but they did a good enough job at muffling the sounds of her cries.
At least enough that I could shut my eyes and imagine it was my dearest sister, screaming out in pain as I ruined her, as she became mine in every possible way.
Imagining that brought me closer to the edge, but not quite far enough.
I pulled on the hair still wrapped around my fist, until Stephanie’s back was bowed and her mouth freed from the pillows. My shoulder ached. The stab wound that pitiful punk had inflicted wasn’t deep enough to do real damage, though it was irritating as fuck.
“Say it,” I commanded. She knew what I wanted.
The two of us had played this game enough times.
To Mitchell–that peon–I played it off like it started back in July, but Stephanie’s been sucking my dick much longer than that.
As a matter of fact, she was a gift, dragged from one of the cages by my father as a birthday present.
The summer after I turned fourteen, he’d shoved her into my arms and directed me towards the cot I occupied at the warehouse, “Consider this a present.”
“A present?” I’d asked, innocent idiot that I was. The thought of doing what he was suggesting disgusted me, “I don’t really want it.”
He snarled before backhanding me so hard I lost my footing, “Ungrateful little prick. Consider it part of your training then.”
“Is this part of Antoinette’s training, too, Father?” I asked, too stupid to stop or to keep the venom from my voice.
“Your sister has her own training. This is part of yours. For now. Do it right, and eventually, you and Antoinette will rule. Together.”
I knew exactly what he wanted. What I was supposed to do.
By that point, I’d seen Rafael, and many of the other men, snatch girls from the cages.
Half the time they didn’t even bother, just approached a cage, undid their zippers and commanded one of the girls to suck them off through the bars.
Sometimes at gunpoint, sometimes so hard the girls cried or screamed as it was happening.
Those first years, I’d screw my eyes closed.
Pretend it wasn’t happening. But after the dark, after the box, there was a new kind of hunger.
One that made me keep my eyes open, one that made me watch, one that made me crave to hurt someone, anyone, that way, too.
Stephanie just had the bad luck to be first. Maybe that made her my favourite. But that was also, and only, because she did as instructed. So, again, I yanked on her hair.
“Say it!”
She continued to writhe underneath me, but the bitch was smart enough not to push me any further.
She nodded–what little she could with my hold on her–and I closed my eyes, waiting for the words.
Two more thrusts, and a clear picture of honey brown hair in my hand instead of blonde and then she moaned, “Fuck me, brother. Please.”
I groaned, pistoning harder. Until it was so hard, I could hear her crying into the pillow.
What a gift. It was even easier to pretend she was Antoinette, crying as I destroyed her.
Family tradition, after all. That was what did it.
I pulled out and came all over Stephanie’s back.
I considered it part of her punishment for failing to sway Rothberg from my sister’s side.
What kind of a whore was she if she couldn’t even seduce that little fucker.
It wasn’t like he had girls lining up for him.
Just Antoinette. Just my Antoinette. Thinking about that, I released Stephanie's hair with a snap, dropping her hard enough that her face once again slammed into the shitty camp mattress.
Stepping off the bed, I reached for my jeans, pulling them back on over my now shrinking dick. In the post-nut clarity, a new plan was taking shape, maybe. But I needed this bitch gone. I couldn’t think with her here.
“Get out.”
“Okay, Franny, but-”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Sorry, Francis. Can you help me get cleaned up and then I’ll go?”
“No.”
“But, but, buttt…” I sneered as her eyes started to water. The only time I liked her tears was when my dick caused them. I snatched her clothes from the floor, yanked the girl from my bed and shoved her and her shit out my front door. All while she blubbered and mumbled, “Please,” and “Francis…”
When the door closed, I laughed, picturing her naked, covered in cum on my front step.
Even when she managed to get her clothes on, she’d still have to walk all the way from the Village to the girls showers with my cum trailing down her back.
And now that the sun was rising, there was every chance she’d be seen, too.
Personally, I saw it as the next part of her punishment for fucking up last night.
Her failure to get rid of Rothberg meant that while my father’s plan was still going to schedule, my own was shot to hell.
With the girl gone, I laid back on my bed and tried to finesse my new plan.
So far, my father knew nothing about his princess’ whoring.
Only keeping me on his tight leash, like I was the animal who needed controlling, and I’d listened.
Followed every instruction. Held off all year, and all fucking summer, while Antoinette soiled herself with that curly-haired shrimp.
Perhaps it was time he knew the whole truth.
On his orders, I had to go to the warehouse today anyway.
I had snuck into that girl’s cabin a few days ago and stolen a tiny scrap of a sweatshirt.
Thank fuck their cabin leader had their bunks all labeled.
That little bit of bait should have been enough for Jack to do his fucking job.
If it was, he would be meeting me and Mikhael in the parking lot very soon with the cargo.
After I’d delivered them, dropped them off with Rafael, I would make a quick detour to the Barrett Holdings head office.
Once our father knew the truth, he would have a better plan, he always did when it came to Antoinette.