14. Char
CHAR
“I’m sorry,” I said softly as the holding cell door popped open.
Commander Hadley ushered me inside. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Miss Char. Absolutely nothing.”
I inched myself down onto the cold, hard wooden bench. “Okay.”
He nodded as he closed the cell door. “Okay, so here’s the plan: someone is coming to talk with you that is safe.
Someone you can trust. Someone that wants only the best for you.
So it’s very important that you’re as honest as you can be with them, no matter how that looks or what that sounds like. Can you do that for me?”
I stared at the boring beige cinderblock wall over the man’s shoulder.
I hated how he talked at me like I was some sort of wounded puppy.
Then again, most men couldn’t pass by a damsel in distress.
It was their kink. Like a fetish ingrained into them from birth.
Go save the poor lady! She’ll suck your dick if you do!
Jesus, I had to get out of there.
I felt like my insanity plea wasn’t quite a lie.
These walls do things to people.
“Miss Char?”
“Hmmm?” I asked, not bothering to look up at the commander.
“Do you need anything before I go?”
“No, thank you,” I said softly.
“Are you sure? Your lawyer says you didn’t eat much for dinner.”
“No, thank you,” I repeated in the same soft voice.
“Or a drink?”
“No thank you.”
He sighed heavily. “Very well then. I’ll send the doctor in here to talk with you once they’re here.”
I nodded softly. “Thank you.”
The idea of having to sit there on that unforgiving bench and stare at the same motherfucking spot on that wall made me want to claw my eyes out.
When the hell would they let me out of there?
Did they treat all of their victims this way?
I had to shake my head and recalibrate. In Marcie’s eyes, I was no longer a victim.
I was no longer someone to wield to get closer to the guys, but someone to sink as an example since she couldn’t get to them.
The thought almost made me break character long enough to smile.
Almost.
I listened to the incessant ticking of the clock on the wall. The stench of my own piss still clung to the stale, immobile air around me. The buzzing of the fluorescent lights above my head threatened to turn me into a goddamn maniac if it didn’t fucking stop.
I needed to be somewhere else.
Anywhere else.
Otherwise, I’d melt the fuck down.
“God, I wish you were here, Mom,” I whispered to myself.
I closed my eyes and decided to lie down on the bench for a bit.
After all, I sure as hell wasn’t laying down on the floor after pissing all over it.
My back popped and my hips ached as I tried to position myself on the bench in a way that didn’t make me envision the death of everything that put me there.
I needed a distraction. Something to pass the time that wasn’t staring at the wall feeling sorry for myself.
Maybe I’d reminisce on some memories with Mom.
Maybe I’d think about the handful of good times I had with Dad.
Or maybe, I’d think about my guys, and how good they felt whenever they were close to me.
“Mine,” Deac growled as he grabbed my arms.
“Pull her shirt over her head. I wanna see those tits,” Gauge said.
“Oh!” I yelped as my shirt got yanked over my head.
I felt something cold against my stomach before my bra loosened.
“There you go,” Dallas said, “easy access.”
“Mm, mm, mm, look at those curves,” Gauge said as heat rose in his gaze.
“Come here,” Deac growled as he wrapped his hand around my throat.
He crashed my back into the wall before his lips fell to mine. His tongue commanded the charge as someone ripped my skirt down my legs. Deac’s hand gravitated to my hair, tugging my head off to the side. And as I felt his lips sink to my pulse point, a moan escaped my lips.
“Oh fuck. Deacon.”
He growled along my skin. “Oh little one, you won’t even have the energy for that once we’re done with you.”
In the blink of an eye, things changed. I found myself sitting in a chair with no bottom and something plowing into my pussy. My jaw unhinged. Moans and groans fell from my lips. Deac sat in front of me, watching as he stroked his massive cock while Dallas and Gauge held my knees open.
“Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit,” I said breathlessly.
“Come for us, sweet girl,” Dallas whispered in my ear.
“You look like an angel when you’re such a mess,” Gauge growled in my other ear.
“Yes. Yes. Yes. I’m so close. So close. So close,” I choked out.
In a flash, my feet were off the floor. I blinked for just a moment and somehow found myself strapped to a bed with satin sheets.
Completely naked. With one lone light shining down upon me.
I looked up at my wrists, bound by leather restraints.
And when I looked down to see what held my feet in place, I found Deac and Dallas staring back at me.
Each of them pinning one of my ankles.
The lights went out.
“Ah!” I yelped.
I heard Gauge’s lumbering footsteps as he approached me on the bed.
“Gauge?” I asked softly.
His callused hand reached for my tit, massaging and rubbing as my puckered peaks stood at attention for him.
I felt the guys bending my knees, tucking my heels against the mattress as they pinned my legs right where they wanted them.
Gauge’s lips kissed my forehead. A sweet, sensual kiss that stirred the heat in my gut.
“Gauge,” I whispered.
“My sweet angel,” he said as his brute hand slid down my stomach, “you’re gonna be hoarse by the time I’m done with you.”
“Oh God,” I whimpered.
His thick fingers parted my pussy folds. “There is no god for you here, angel.”
“Oh fuck,” I hissed.
Just as his fingertips touched my sensitive bundle, things changed again.
I found myself bent over the edge of the bed, my body jolting with each thrust as someone gripped my hips from behind.
Something tapped against my lips, and electricity sizzled throughout my veins as I opened wide.
I looked up from beneath my eyelashes, trying to get a sense of where I was and what the hell was happening.
And when I found Deac staring down at me with those darkened eyes of his, I watched him pump his large hand over his thick, veiny cock.
“Are you hungry, little one?”
I nodded vigorously before a gigantic thrust lurched me forward.
I yelped, my mouth opening as Deac slid his dick right in between my lips.
My throat opened as I pressed my hands against the mattress.
I caught myself as Deac’s cock filled my throat.
A hand came down onto the small of my back and I arched backward, feeling the dick of whoever was behind me fill me to the brim.
And when he groaned, I knew exactly who it was.
“That’s it, sweet girl, slick Daddy’s cock. Just like that. That’s a good girl.”
I whimpered around Deac’s dick as it pulsed against my cheeks.
I felt so full. I felt so loved. I felt so free, feeling my body spiral out of control.
The hand on the small of my back wrapped around to my hip.
It tucked itself beneath my stomach, making its way toward my thighs.
I spread my knees further out. Dallas pounded against me, jiggling my excess for his viewing pleasure as my mouth fucked Deac’s dick.
They timed their thrusts, leaving me feeling fuller than I ever felt in my entire fucking life.
I felt Gauge’s callused thumb against my drenched clit.
“Oh fuck!” I cried out around Deac’s dick.
“Miss Charlotte?”
The unfamiliar voice ripped me out of my trance, and I resisted the urge to blink my eyes. I felt a presence with me. An unfamiliar presence attached to an unfamiliar voice.
“Miss Charlotte, my name is Dr. Alan Johnston. I’m a psychiatrist from a couple of towns over. Can you tell me where you are?”
I slowly panned my gaze toward him and raked my stare down his body.
He looked like a psychiatrist, all right.
With his Coke bottle glasses, thick black frames, and his little pocket square sitting next to the pen he kept in his breast pocket.
His sweater vest alone gave him a kind demeanor, but it was the genuine smile on his face and the khaki pants he had hiked up over his belly button that made me relax.
I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
“Maybe we can start with another question?” he asked.
I watched him pull his pen out of his breast pocket and click it open.
“What’s your full name?” he asked.
I thought back to what Abbie told me. About my insanity plea, and how she thought it was best to go about it.
As I sat there, staring at the doctor, I wondered if she was right.
If things went to court, no one would be able to help me.
Not even them. And that meant I had to take care of myself by any means necessary.
I was no stranger to survival. Hell, that was practically my entire life.
I just hoped the guys didn’t kill me for throwing them under the bus.
“Little One,” I whispered.
The doctor paused. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“My name,” I said as I connected my tired stare with his, “is Little One.”
His brow ticked before he scribbled it down on a file he had in his lap. “Does Little One have a last name?”
“Angel,” I whispered as I looked down at my hands in my lap.
“Your name is… Little One Angel?”
I nodded softly, my voice staying at a whisper. “I’m their bad little angel.”
I heard him scribbling furiously, but I didn’t bother looking up.
Stockholm Syndrome. Having positive feelings for negative captors.
I repeated it once to myself in my head as I tried to focus.
I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to put them in the crossfire.
But I had been in that holding cell for much too long, and the more time that ticked by, the more worried I grew that this was going to spiral.
Fucking hell, please forgive me, guys.
“Will you help me?” I asked as I looked up at my psychiatrist.
His pen paused. “Help you with what?”
My lower lip quivered. “They’re not going to like the mess I left. Will you help me clean it?”
He tilted his head. “Of course I can. What kind of mess?”
And as I released my bladder for the second time, the psychiatrist leapt up from his seat and took a step back.
“They’ll be back soon,” I said as my blank stare followed him. “Will you help me clean it up?”