Chapter 11 Aurora #4
“Whadafuck?” I try to scream, but it slurs out, barely a whisper. Something is seriously fucking wrong here.
Four Jamesons blur together.
My brain claws for clarity, but all it finds is blind terror bleeding through the cracks.
Jameson yanks me flush against his chest. I want to thrash. Gouge. Claw his fucking eyes out. But my muscles refuse.
He drags in a deep breath against my neck, murmuring something low and vile. His hand trails lower, fingers pressing possessively against my ass, making my stomach twist.
I’m awake, but my body won’t respond. The world is muffled, warped … distant.
Inside, Louie explodes into an ear-splitting, vicious howl.
My chest heaves.
My limbs stay useless.
She knows. But she can’t reach me. No one can.
“Beautiful, na?ve Aurora,” Jameson croons, guiding my head into his lap.
“You don’t even know who you are. You’re so sweet and trusting. It makes my cock ache.”
He strokes my hair like this is the grand fucking finale of some dark romance novel—moaning like this is love and not rape.
“If you’re wondering, baby girl, I gave you a little something to keep you still. Just enough to leave your mind awake. The roofie I slipped into your wine should wear off soon, but this?” He taps my neck where he stuck me. “This’ll make sure you feel everything.”
Shit. He drugged me. My house is in the middle of nowhere. No one will ever know.
I’m scared.
More scared than I’ve ever been.
But beneath the terror, something ancient and brutal begins to stir.
He thinks I’m weak.
A victim.
Something he can break.
Like I’m just another girl who’ll shatter for him.
But I’m still here.
Even like this, I’m still fucking here.
The fog from the roofie lifts—not all at once, but in jagged, slicing fragments.
And with it comes the truth.
This isn’t just an assault.
It’s an execution.
Every move calculated. Every moment choreographed. He’s done this before.
Fear wraps cold fingers around my throat.
But rage digs in deeper.
I won’t beg.
I won’t break.
And if I go down?
This flannel-wrapped, cult-chugging fuck goes with me.
“Fuck, baby girl, I know you’re still a virgin.” Jameson groans, his voice thick with sick satisfaction. “If you weren’t, you would have killed me by now.”
His hands roam, pinching and claiming. Then his hips flex, and his erection presses against my cheek. Because, of course, he wants me humiliated.
How the fuck does he know I’m a virgin?
His fingers tangle in my hair, then yank. My head jerks back, then down, between his knees. My neck strains, vertebrae popping. But that’s the least of my worries.
“I’ve never fucked a monster before,” he murmurs, savoring the idea. “But tonight? I’ll make an exception. No power. Virgin. And so fucking pretty.”
What the hell?
Monster?
Does this lunatic actually think I’m one of the things from his deranged little cult?
He didn’t just pick a random girl.
He picked me.
He wrenches my head back again, so hard I swear something in my neck nearly snaps. His other hand slowly trails down my body. Squeezing. Testing. Then—
He reaches for my jeans. Pressure. A snap. Then the slow scrape of metal sliding down.
“Fuck, yes, little monster,” he whispers, desecration thick in his voice.
He pushes my jeans down my thighs. Then his hand slips inside my underwear. He forces two fingers into me. It’s sudden and cruel … and meant to hurt.
If I could scream, I would.
“Not wet for me yet?” His voice drips with amusement. “Shh, baby girl. It’s fine. You’ll get there. They always do.”
The world spins as he shifts me in his lap, fingers withdrawing, then forcing their way into my mouth. Three fingers shove inside, pushing too deep, pressing my tongue down.
I choke, throat locking hard around the intrusion. Saliva floods my mouth. He groans as my lips stretch around his knuckles. His fingers press deeper, down my throat, past the point of breathing.
“That’s it,” he breathes. “Fuck, that’s what I wanted. Gag for me, baby girl. Just like that.”
He works them inside my mouth, fucking my throat with his fingers, watching every twitch, every helpless reaction.
My body rebels, trying to fight.
He smiles, gentle and unhurried, like this is something we’re doing together.
And then, just as abruptly as he started, he pulls his fingers free. Strings of saliva stretch from my lips to his hand.
He pants, chest trembling. His pupils devour me, tracking the spit still on his hand.
He shoves his fingers between my legs. This time, they slide in more easily.
A wet, perverse groan spills from his lips.
“There we go.” He sounds fucking delighted. “Finally getting wet for me.”
I’m not. I know I’m not. But he wants it to be true.
“Christ, you’re tight. I could split you open right now, baby girl. But …” He sighs, almost disappointed. “Can’t risk you getting those powers.”
What fucking powers?
Jameson clearly drank the Flavor Aid and lost his fucking mind.
He yanks my head up like I’m prey, something he caught. Then he roughly shoves his fingers inside me—again and again. He wants to break me from the inside out. I’m just a hole for him, a place to leave his filth.
I feel it—sharp, splitting pain—but my body stays limp. Useless.
Traitorous tears slide over my temples and pool in my ears. I won’t let him see fear. I won’t. So, I hold his gaze. Unblinking and silent.
Even as I shake.
“You know what the best part is?”
He sighs, breath thick with sanctified horror.
“You’ll die with me still inside you. My cock buried deep while the light leaves your eyes. Your cunt stretched open around me. Your mouth full of my name.”
His hand trails across my ribs, slow, almost curious.
“And I’ll carve my name right here,” he says, pressing hard against my skin, “so when they find what’s left of you, they’ll know who you belonged to.”
He chuckles like he’s already buried me.
“You’ll be full of me. Marked by me. A hole in the woods dripping proof of how easy you gave in.”
He leans close, teeth flashing in a sick smile.
“They’ll talk about the cock-starved virgin monster bitch who cried for mercy with a Disciple between her legs. How she moaned for salvation while a servant of the Light dragged the monster screaming from her cunt—then painted her womb with sanctified sin. That’s how the Light cleanses, baby girl.”
A pause.
“Slut,” he whispers, the word thick with ownership.
“You’ll die a fucking slut for me. I can’t wait to destroy you.”
His lips brush against my ear.
“And then I’ll finally get what I deserve,” Jameson huffs. “I’ll show them all. Prove that I’m better. That I’m worthy.”
His voice dips, teeth scraping against my cheek.
“They’ll raise me up. Out of the Kindled. Maybe even into the Albedo. And my cousin? The one who thinks he’s a fucking god?” His lips curl. “I’m bringing him proof. Something he can hold.”
Proof. Not a gift. A fucking trophy.
“And when Isa sees what I’ve done—”
Isa? His cousin?
A whimper slips free before I can swallow it down.
Jameson groans. “Fuck, yes.”
His fingers plunge deeper, rougher, shoving …
When he finally pulls back, his breath hitches.
“Look at that.”
He lifts his hand, his fingers slick with blood. My blood.
“I fucked you so good your cherry popped.”
He smears it down my cheek. Not slow. Not tender. Ritualistic. Like he’s marking a kill.
“You look so pretty like this, little monster.”
If I could speak, I’d tell him my first dildo took care of that years ago.
Watch the sick pride in his eyes flicker out.
But this blood isn’t from that.
It’s deeper, something torn inside me.
Which makes it so much worse.
But my body’s not done. Not yet.
The tingling in my fingers is faint, but it’s there. Jameson fucked up.
He thinks I’m done. Thinks I’m helpless. Thinks I’ll let this happen.
Then I hear it—zipper teeth splitting apart.
A slow, internal smile curls in my chest.
That’s right, you dumb motherfucker.
Put it where I can reach.
I don’t have a fucking thing to lose.
If I’m going to die, I’m taking his cock with me.
Jameson roughly adjusts the angle of my head. My lips part on their own. My jaw is too loose, my body too useless to fight.
He groans, then—
No.
Fuck. No.
“Open up, baby girl,” he says, his voice shaking with sick excitement. “Gonna make you feel so fucking good.”
Jameson exhales like a man unwrapping a gift.
“There we go,” he murmurs, pushing the head of his cock past my lips. “Let’s see what this pretty mouth can do.”
He shoves himself in. The first thrust is too deep. Too fast.
I gag, my throat seizing up.
Jameson releases a broken sound, sick with filth and satisfaction.
“That’s it. Take it deeper. Fuck, that’s the sound I wanted.”
I need to keep him busy. Just long enough for the drugs to wear off.
His groan is disgusting. His fingers twist in my hair. Then … he pauses. And drives his cock deep.
I feel the pressure at the back of my tongue. The bulge in my throat. His hand smooths over it, admiring his own brutality.
“Shit yeah, you like that don’t you? Gagging so sweet on me.
They said you were dangerous. Now look at you—barely breathing, legs twitching, and drooling like a bitch in heat.
You wanted this, baby girl. Been waiting for it.
Waiting for me to fuck the fight right out of you and prove what you really are. My perfect little whore.”
He doesn’t move. Just watches me choke. A sick little test.
So, I go still. Let my body sag. Let him think he’s won.
Just wait.
Wait for him to get comfortable.
“Look at you, little monster. All pain and purpose, cut open and choking on salvation. My little lamb for the altar,” he breathes.
“You feel that, baby girl? That’s the Light claiming you.
Gagging on cock and blood—your body shaking around me—this is what redemption looks like.
When they find your body carved and leaking, they’ll sing hymns in my name.
I’m not killing you, Aurora. I’m saving you. ”
He relaxes. Just for a second.
He lets himself enjoy it.