Chapter 17
Seventeen
Rook
“Do you little cocksuckers think you’re ever going to amount to anything? Huh?”
His spittle is disgusting. It sprays around me every time he shouts. It smells nasty, like cigarettes and bad breath. He should brush his teeth.
“Huh?” he shouts louder. “Do you? Because you’re not.
You five are trash. Waste of oxygen. You’re not going to last six months in the real world.
All five of you will die in prison. You know that, right?
You know the world is going to eat you alive when you turn eighteen.
You’ll end up on the streets, dealing drugs and stealing cars. ”
He’s wrong. He’s wrong. He’s wrong.
Ignore him.
He’s full of shit. He’s nothing but a miserable asshole who has no life. He probably hasn’t been laid in a decade. So he takes it out on us.
But he’s wrong. We have a plan. We’re going to get out of here and prove him wrong.
We’ve already applied to colleges. I’m confident we’ll get accepted somewhere local, even if we have to split up.
We’re resourceful. We even pooled our meager money and opened a P.O.
Box so we could receive mail without it being intercepted.
All of our cash comes from mowing lawns.
We don’t have many clients, but a few neighbors.
We have a fucking plan. And we’re going to achieve our goals.
“Now, I’m going to ask you fuckers one more time. Who stole the bread from the kitchen? I know one of you motherfuckers did it. Do you think you’re funny? You have ten seconds to fess up or rat out one of your buddies. If I don’t have a name by then, you’ll all be punished.”
He thinks he’s going to get to us, but he’s not. We’re on to him. No one stole any fucking bread. It’s probably not even missing. He just likes to get us all riled up. But we’re over it. He’s just going to have to punish all of us.
It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. It angers him even further when he gets no reaction out of us, but we do it anyway.
He’s not actually going to kill one of us.
We’ve figured that out. He won’t even do anything to cause us to end up in the hospital.
It would raise questions from the state.
Nope. He just gets his rocks off, antagonizing us day in and day out. It’s infuriating, but we stopped letting flames come out of our ears two years ago.
We’re so close to getting out of this hellhole. We can do it. We will.
“Fine. I guess you’ve made your decision. You know that stack of bricks by the south wall? They need to be moved to the other side of the house. Stack them by the north wall. One at a time. You can stay out there until the job is done.”
I give no outward reaction. Inside, I’m laughing. We’ve moved that stack of bricks four times now. It’s one of his favorite and least creative ways to punish us. Yes, it takes hours. We end up working on it into the night. We miss dinner. But it’s exercise, and it won’t harm us.
Fuck him.
He can suck my dick.
My alarm yanks me awake. I sit upright with so much speed that I make myself dizzy. I never need my alarm. This is a new development.
I know why, too.
Her.
It’s her fault.
She’s consuming my life. I’m spending way too much time thinking about her, watching her, training her. I should stop this nonsense. It’s not like I can keep her in the long run. Of course not.
I’m fucking with her. It’s become a habit. She’s like a drug. I can’t stop toying with her. Provoking her. Controlling her.
And like every morning, I scramble out of bed and rush over to my monitor to see what she’s doing. I’m late getting up. This is not like me. She’s up before me. Of course she is. I set her alarm myself. I even moved it to her desk so she has to walk farther to get to it.
She’s crying. Not surprising. She’s often crying. I make her cry. She used to smile all the time. She’s a happy person. She was laughing the first time I saw her. I knew she was goodness and light. That’s partly why I chose her in the first place.
For the last several years, I’ve picked a girl each fall to take down a notch. This year, I chose her.
Briana.
All smiles and giggles.
That’s not how I found her at the party, however.
She was uncomfortable in that environment.
She hated it there. I watched her for a while before I took her.
She never tasted a sip of alcohol. She curled up her nose when she smelled it.
She didn’t like stepping in the sticky mess on the floor, either.
Nor did she enjoy people bumping into her, spilling beer or spiked punch on her.
Honestly, I think a part of her was relieved when I pulled her into that pantry and got her out of that situation.
Okay, fine. Relieved is probably not the right word. She was not relieved. But I gave her something else to think about.
My girl is sure thinking now. She’s sitting at her desk in her panties and tank top because I’ve left her those two items to wear to bed every night since I whipped her with my belt.
She’s not smiling. Which I hate. I did this to her. I fucked with her so hard that she’s no longer happy. But she still obeys me. She can’t help herself. I’ve conditioned her to follow my orders. I think she would do so for months without any interaction from me.
That’s what I wanted, isn’t it? I set out to see how far I could take her, and she followed like the deeply submissive puppy she is. It’s my doing. But now what?
I grab my cock and jerk myself off while I watch her pick up her phone. She spreads her pretty legs wide and takes a picture of the deep bruise on her inner thigh. As instructed, she also captures the gusset of her panties. I like to zoom in and focus on the wet spot right in the center.
Does she realize why I sucked her so hard that night? I’m sure she does. I’ve told her repeatedly that she will always wear my mark. As long as that bruise is still prominent, she knows I might not come to see her. She’s staring at it now, touching it.
I wish I could get into her head and know what she’s thinking. I’m pretty certain she enjoys seeing my mark because she lets her finger stray to the elastic edge of her panties just inches from the bruise. She boldly drags her pointer along the elastic.
I’ve never seen her do this before. It’s new. She’s about to piss me off. I told her not to touch herself, and she’s taking that too close to the line.
In fact, while I squeeze my cock harder, she spreads her legs wider, leans back, and uses both hands to toy with that elastic on either side of her cunt.
It’s erotic as hell. I’m going to come faster than usual from watching her.
But so very naughty. She could make herself come, too. I have no doubt.
I wish I had a camera between her legs. I bet her panties are soaked now. She doesn’t have time for this. Plus, it’s strictly forbidden. Her arousal is mine. I decide when she’s permitted to feel good. Not just orgasms.
Suddenly, I know I need to be firmer with her somehow, without revealing I have installed a camera in her room. That’s always a challenge. When I see her do something that’s not permitted, I have to get creative about correcting her.
Without a doubt, she’s been confused several times, wondering if she was being watched.
She’s even glanced around her room, thinking maybe I was with her.
Once she looked in the closet. I held my breath that time, afraid she would find the camera in the top corner.
But that’s not what she was looking for.
It never occurred to her. She was looking for me.
I’m also not under her bed. I chuckle every time she looks. Nor am I outside her window. Not during the day, anyway.
God, I wish I had a microphone in her room. Fuck. I need to make that happen. I will. I can’t stand not hearing her any longer. I’ll add sound equipment tonight.
I’m not a wealthy man. Someday, I will be because I’m fucking intelligent, and I can get a great job when I finish my PhD. I do, however, work part-time for a private company, hacking their own system to find weaknesses. It pays well and helps supplement the income I get from my university stipend.
There are five of us in Brimstone House. That’s by design. We easily cover the mortgage and have plenty left over. I’ve not only purchased quite a few things for Briana, but I’m already plotting for the future we will have together. My closet is now jammed with boxes.
Perhaps I’m certifiable for planning so far ahead. We have so many fucking hurdles to jump before we come anywhere close to my vision of a life together. But now that I’m growing more and more educated about various BDSM lifestyles, I see that my girl is going to need some masochism in her life.
Lord knows I’m capable of being sadistic. I didn’t see her being nearly as submissive and masochistic as she has turned out to be. She didn’t know this about herself. She’s evolving. I’m watching her.
I’m an asshole. I’m walking a fine line with my princess.
I don’t want to push her too far, but I do want her to realize she needs me.
I want her to do anything I ask of her because she lives to please me.
Pushing her comfort level will never end.
The line of what’s acceptable to her keeps moving.
I’m the one shoving it further and further out.
Already, she doesn’t recognize herself. That’s by design.
The ass play was a gamble, but I’m not sorry. I’m also not sorry I whipped her that night. The welts make my cock hard every time she sends me an updated picture.
I know she couldn’t sit without wincing the next few days. She’s learning to school her face, though. She knows I will punish her further if people start questioning her changes.
We all have to learn to adapt to the world around us.
I was fourteen when I received my first hard lesson.
I had just arrived at the boys’ home and met the four guys who would become my closest life friends.
My brothers. Pretending to be “normal” was new to me.
Master Drill Sergeant Keagan picked on me more than the others.
One night, Silver took me aside and told me I had to learn to change my expressions.
He stood me in front of the mirror and showed me the scowl I always wore.
He was right, and that scowl matched what I felt inside, but it would always make people stare at me.
If I wanted to blend in, I had to learn new expressions that felt unnatural and use them.
To this day, I still use that tool. All five of us do.
My mind is wandering all over the place. It does that a lot lately. I’m not focused. I’m out of sorts. And how long have I been holding my cock in my hand while watching my girl come super close to stroking her pussy? Probably seconds.
Suddenly, she fists her hands and punches her thighs in frustration. It’s so fucking sexy watching her obey me that I’m about to come. She’s certainly not schooling her face right now. She looks fit to kill.
While she takes deep breaths, I come, my jizz squirting onto the floor in front of me. I should have grabbed something to catch it. I’m annoyed with myself for struggling to keep my life in order. Even as my orgasm pulses through my body, I feel my mounting frustration taking over.
When I’m done, I release my dick, panting. We can’t go on like this, but I don’t have the answers.
Before I find the strength to stand, my phone pings, and I look down to see a picture of my girl’s pussy.
She’s in the bathroom now, and she never fails to send me a snapshot of her cunt when she pees.
Which means I now know more about her bathroom habits than anyone on Earth knows about another person.
I also see that her pussy is swollen and wet. That’s because my naughty girl was stroking the edges of her panties.
The grin on my face should be something I learned to hide. It’s not, but it should be.