Chapter 24 #3
My father is trying to turn his head, his eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving in a panicked, whistling rhythm. He’s trying to hide in the dark of his own eyelids.
“I said look,” Jex snarls.
He reaches into the trauma kit and pulls out a pair of weighted surgical speculums and medical tape.
With a brutal, practiced efficiency, he tapes our father’s head into a foam stabiliser block, pinning it so he can’t move a fraction of an inch.
Then, he uses the cold steel retractors to hook the Mayor’s eyelids, pinning them wide open.
Dad is forced to stare upward, his pupils dilated with a terror so pure it’s almost holy. He has no choice. His entire field of vision is filled with me—with the bruised, swollen lips of my pussy, still weeping and pulsing from Jex’s tongue.
“You wanted to own her?” Jex whispers, leaning over the bed, his shadow falling across both of us. “Well, here she is. Every secret, every scar, every drop of the shame you manufactured.”
I’m crying, the tears dripping off my chin and splashing onto my father’s forehead.
My body is betraying me again; the proximity, the humiliation, the raw power Jex is wielding is making me ache all over again.
A heavy, clear bead of my arousal gathers at my base, glistening in the sterile light, before it loses its battle with gravity.
It falls, landing right on my father’s cheek. He lets out a muffled, strangled scream behind his mask, his eyes darting frantically, trapped in the cage Jex built for him.
“See that, Dad?” Jex mocks, his hand sliding up my inner thigh, his thumb dragging through the slickness and then smearing it across the Mayor’s lips. “That’s the taste of the daughter you sold. That’s the only legacy you have left.”
I’m trembling so hard the straps are creaking, my pussy dripping steadily onto the man who ruined me, a rhythmic counting-down of his soul. I am a living, weeping monument to his sins, held aloft by the only man who ever truly saw the monster inside the girl.
“Don’t blink, Dad,” Jex hisses, his hand moving to the fly of his jeans. “You’re going to want to see exactly how I claim what’s mine.”
The fluorescent lights of the ambulance hum, a cold, buzzing halo that makes the sweat on my skin feel like liquid ice. I’m suspended above the man who ruined me, my wrists straining against the nylon, my legs pulled wide until the ache in my hips is a dull, rhythmic throb.
Below me, Dad is a frantic, pinned animal. His eyes, forced wide by the cold steel of the retractors, are bloodshot and wild, darting from my weeping centre to the shadow of the man standing at the foot of the gurney.
“You… you sick… bastard!” my father wheezes, the words whistling through the gaps in his broken teeth. “I’ll see you… in hell… Jex! I’ll have… your skin for this!”
Jex doesn’t even blink. He ignores the swearing, the pathetic, frothing rage of a king without a throne. Instead, he reaches for his belt. The sound of the leather sliding through the loops is a slow, deliberate hiss that makes my breath hitch.
“Listen to him, Hallow,” Jex murmurs, his voice a dark, velvety caress that contrasts with the Mayor’s shrill screaming. “He still thinks he has a vote. He still thinks his words have weight.”
He unzips his jeans. The sound of the metal teeth parting is loud in the cramped, clinical space. He moves with an agonising slowness, peeling the denim back, and I find myself looking down, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it hurts.
He’s magnificent. And he’s terrifying.
His cock springs free, heavy and thrumming with a dark, kinetic heat.
It’s thick—a brutal, corded muscle that looks like it was carved from the same hard, unyielding stone as his heart.
The skin is a deep, flushed bronze, the veins wrapping around the shaft like a map of the violence we’ve survived.
A single, clear drop of pre-cum glistens at the tip, reflecting the harsh LED light like a diamond in the dirt.
“Jex… oh god,” I whisper, my head lolling back against the strap.
He steps closer, moving between my spread, tethered ankles. He doesn’t go for the kill. He teases. He takes the head of his cock and drags it—slow, wet, and heavy—along the inside of my thigh. The friction is electric, a white-hot brand against my sensitive skin.
“Look at it, Dad,” Jex growls, his hand reaching out to grab the Mayor’s chin, forcing his pinned gaze back to the apex of my legs. “This is the only thing your daughter wants now. Not your money. Not your legacy. Just me.”
“I’ll kill you!” He screams, his chest heaving, his body convulsing against the restraints until the monitors start to wail a frantic, high-pitched alarm. “I’ll kill you both! You’re filth! Subhuman… filth!”
Jex ignores the insults, his focus entirely on the space between us. He brings the head of his cock up, pressing it firmly against my clit, but he doesn’t push inside. He just grinds, a slow, circular motion that makes my vision go grey at the edges.
I let out a broken, shameful moan, my pussy weeping even faster, the slick, hot fruit of my arousal dripping directly onto my father’s trembling lips.
“See that, Dad?” Jex rasps, his eyes locked onto mine, his thumb dragging through the moisture on my inner lip. “She’s so wet for me she’s drowning you. Every time you scream, she gets tighter. Every time you swear, she wants it deeper.”
He leans in, his chest pressing against my knees, his breath hot and smelling of salt and Earl Grey. He takes the tip of his cock and pokes at my opening, teasing the entrance, retreating just as I start to arch my hips toward him.
“Please,” I sob, my tears falling onto my father’s wide, horrified eyes. “Jex… please… I can’t… I need it…”
“Tell him, Hallow,” Jex commands, his hand sliding up to grip my throat, his thumb pressing into the pulse point. “Tell the Mayor exactly what you want the monster to do to you while he watches.”
I’m vibrating in the straps, my body a bowstring pulled so tight I’m afraid I’ll snap. The cold fluorescent light is unforgiving, turning the sweat on my skin into a shimmering, oily film. Below me, dad is a frantic, pinned animal, his chest heaving under the weight of his own suffocating rage.
“I want it,” I sob, the words tearing out of me, amplified by the PA system still humming in the background. My voice is raw, a shredded thing that doesn’t belong to a daughter anymore. “I want you to take me, Jex. Right here. In his face. I want him to see what he made.”
He lets out a gargled, high-pitched shriek of denial, his head thrashing against the foam stabiliser until the skin of his temples starts to chafe and bleed. “No! You… you whore! You’re… you’re my blood!”
“Your blood is on the floor, Dad,” Jex growls, his voice a low, terrifying vibration that cuts through the Mayor’s screaming.
He stops the teasing. He reaches out, his large, calloused hands gripping my hips with a bruising force, his thumbs digging into the soft meat of my waist to anchor me.
He positions himself, the broad, throbbing head of his cock pressing firmly against my opening, stretching the sensitive tissue until I’m whimpering with the sheer, agonising pressure of him.
“Watch, Dad,” Jex commands, his eyes fixed on our father’s pinned-open gaze. “Watch the only thing your daughter will ever remember about you.”
He thrusts.
It’s not a gentle entry. It’s a conquest. He slides into me in one heavy, unrelenting surge, his thick, corded length filling every hollowed-out, aching inch of my body.
I let out a sharp, shattered cry, my head thumping back against the ceiling strap as my internal muscles clamp around him in a frantic, starving seizure.
“Oh god… Jex… Jex!”
He doesn’t stop. He starts to move—a slow, rhythmic, and devastatingly deep grind.
Every time he seats himself, the base of his cock slams against my clit, sending a white-hot shockwave of pleasure-pain straight to my brain.
The gurney beneath us groans under the weight, the metal screeching in time with my gasps.
“You like that, Hallow?” Jex rasps, his breath hot and ragged against my neck. “You like how he has to watch every inch of me disappearing inside you?”
I can’t speak. I can only moan, a low, guttural sound of surrender. I’m bucking against the straps, my pussy weeping a hot, frantic slickness that coats his shaft and drips down onto my father’s face, mixing with the Mayor’s tears and the sweat of his terror.
He is sobbing now, a broken, whistling sound behind his mask, his eyes darting frantically as he’s forced to bear witness to the rhythmic, visceral friction of our bodies.
He’s watching the way my skin flushes, the way my breasts bounce with every one of Jex’s lunges, the way I’m clinging to the man who’s destroying the last shred of his dignity.
“Is he still swearing, Hallow?” Jex mocks, his pace accelerating, his thrusts becoming more violent, more possessive. “Or is he finally starting to understand that he’s just the audience for our masterpiece?”
I’m reaching the cliff again, the pressure building into a blinding, electric storm. The contrast is total—the clinical cold of the ambulance, the heat of Jex’s body, and the shattered, pathetic wreck of the man who sold us both.
“Jex… now… I’m… I’m going to—”
“Do it,” Jex growls, his hands snapping to my throat, his thumbs pressing into my windpipe just enough to make the world go grey at the edges. “Show him how much you love the monster.”
I shatter. My body goes rigid in the straps, my internal muscles pulsing in a violent, rhythmic riot around him.
I’m wailing, a long, harrowing sound of release that fills the small space, while Jex lets out a guttural roar, his own climax hitting him like a freight train as he spills into me, his heat a brand that burns through the last of my history.
We hang there, tangled and panting in the white light, while our father stares upward into the silence of his own undoing.