Chapter 38 #2
I swear to god, if someone fucks my corpse, I will come back as a ghost and kill him!
“Fucking hell.” I still feel like shit. My head’s a mess, and everything is hazy. I have to be asleep. I refuse to believe anything else.
A sound catches my attention, sending my heart into overdrive.
This is it. This is my kidnapper coming to kill me or, worse!
But when I see three men walk in, bare-chested but wearing plague doctor masks—one with black hair, one with blond, and the other with brown hair—my body slumps in relief.
I should have known it was them, that they would do something like this.
Oh, fuck, it’s them!
They know I lied to them and went to the club with Callie.
Of course they fucking do. I really am stupid sometimes.
“Heeey,” I laugh out nervously, and it comes out extremely slurred. They don’t reply, just slowly stalk towards me. “I’m sure you’re… w-wondering what I was d-d-doing… at that club… I mean.”
They still don’t say anything as they surround the chair I’m strapped to. Sylas carries something that resembles a briefcase and places it on a medical rolling table, which he pulls closer.
Licking my lips, I watch with bated breath, waiting for him to open it.
He does and starts pulling out different—I’m going to assume—medical instruments.
Fuck me, they’re not actually going to torture me, are they? Is lying to them some kind of hard limit? I get being upset, but this? It seems a little extreme.
“Let’s talk ab-about this,” I suggest as he continues pulling all kinds of different items out, laying them on another table that he’s rolled to the left of me.
“So that you can lie to us some more?" Jasper asks in an emotionless tone, just like a robot.
“I didn’t lie. Not really. I said I was out with Callie. And I was!”
“Drinking at a club,” Jasper states.
“We were just having fun. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” Wesley asks. “You could have been drugged. Kidnapped. Raped. Killed. The list goes on.”
“Seeing how you’re strapped to this chair, helpless to defend yourself? You’re proving our point perfectly for us,” Jasper points out.
“You’re right. And I’m sorry. I should have let you know where I was going and what I was doing. That was my fault. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t,” Jasper agrees. “And we will make sure of that.”
“But for now, we think it’s only appropriate that we punish you for the stunt you pulled tonight,” Wesley adds.
Lifting my head, I watch as Jasper moves to the end of the table. He pushes where my foot is strapped in, forcing my knee to bend and lift upward. Then he does the same with my other leg until I’m spread open and my core is exposed to the room.
I didn’t click until now that my feet were restrained in stirrups.
I watch him, my breathing quickening as Jasper stares at my pussy. Reaching forward, he brushes two fingers along my folds, and I let out a squeak. I wasn’t expecting the gentle touch from him, the strangeness of it putting me on edge, and has me fighting through the fogginess.
I whimper, trying to close my legs even though I know I can’t. Even if I wasn’t strapped down, I’m still too weak, too out of it, to move normally.
Chest heaving from the effort, I try to refocus, to keep my head clear, but it’s not easy.
“Why am I so out of it?” I groan as a wave of dizziness hits me.
“That would be the drugs working their way through your body,” Sylas answers, turning away from the tray of instruments.
He lifts up two clamps and looks between them before lifting his gaze to me.
“Never take an open drink from anyone, Lola Girl, even a bartender. You never know who they might be more loyal to,” he warns with a chuckle.
“You drugged me?” I ask, frowning. I’m not sure if I should be pissed off or not. “Why? I’d do all of this willingly. You didn’t have to drug me.”
“No. We needed to,” Sylas corrects, but then doesn’t elaborate.
He places one of the clamps on my stomach. With the other one, he rubs the tip against my nipple.
I’m so distracted by Sylas, waiting to see what he’s going to do with the clamp, that I don’t even notice Wesley step up on my right side, taking my other nipple into his mouth.
The warm, wet heat of his mouth causes excitement to zing through my body, warming me up a little bit.
My attention quickly shifts once again when Sylas spits on the nipple he’s playing with. He rubs a few circles over the nub with the clamp again before blowing on it, the cool rush of air making it harden.
Wesley releases my tit with a pop, copying what Sylas had done, before saying, “We did it because we needed to show you how easily anyone could do it. You’re just lucky it was us.
” The second the words leave his lips, Wesley bites down around the tight bud of my nipple, making me cry out as my back arches off the chair.
My breaths quicken, heart pounding like crazy as Wesley lowers the chair backwards, so that I’m lying flat on my back.
“W-what are you going to do with me now?” I ask breathlessly.
“Whatever we want,” Wesley answers with a chuckle, flicking the hardened peak.
“Look at her nipples. They’re like pretty little pebbles,” Sylas beams.
Wesley disappears from my vision, leaving Sylas to loom over me.
Sylas chuckles, taking the clamp and trapping my nipple between it.
The bite of pain shoots straight to my clit, stoking the fire that's been ignited deep in my core.
Taking the other clamp, he does the same thing to the other nipple, and wetness begins to gather at my entrance.
How am I so turned on right now? They only touched my breasts. Am I really that fucked in the head that I turn into this sex crazed freak over literally anything they do to me?
The answer is yes.
“Are you wet yet, little slut?” Jasper asks from in between my legs.
Before I can even answer, he continues speaking, “Does being our nasty little whore turn you on? Do you cream at the idea of being at our mercy… not being able to fight back? Do you get all hot and bothered thinking about us abusing that tight cunt? Or are you turned on from being this pathetic?”
He doesn’t give me time to answer before he swipes two fingers through my pussy lips, scooping up my arousal, and grazing my clit as he does. Holding up his fingers, they glisten under the harsh fluorescent lights.
“Yeah, she is,” Wesley chuckles, stepping in between my legs next to Jasper.
My view of them is cut off when Sylas climbs up onto the chair, straddling my lower stomach.
In his hands is a metal chain, and a small bit of fear spikes through me.
He drops the chain between the mounds of my breasts before leaning forward.
He inspects my left nipple before twisting a tiny dial on the side of the clamp, making it tighten around my bud.
I suck in a sharp breath as goosebumps spread across my body.
He does the same with the other clamp. Then he takes the chain, connecting one clamp to the other.
The chain is just heavy enough to add a pulling sensation that has me aching.
My eyes slam shut, and I begin to pant when Sylas slaps the top of my breast, jostling the clamps.
I try to catch my breath as I watch Wesley come around to the table on my left side, and lifts…
is that a knife? Sylas slaps my other tit, grabbing my attention again as Wesley disappears behind him once more.
Concern begins to trickle into me, mixing with the liquid heat pooling in my lower stomach, creating a strange anticipation for what’s to come.
I can’t see anything they’re doing. The only view I have is of Sylas’ smug smirk as he watches me. But I can feel the cool metal against my skin, the point digging in ever so slightly—not enough to cut, though—as Wesley drags the knife’s edge along my thigh.
“Do you know how much I wished I knew it was you the night of the ritual? Lying there on that altar, bleeding for us, for our god? If I knew, I’d have taken my time with you.
” Wesley lets out a low, guttural groan as I feel a stinging pain slice my inner thigh.
I hiss when I feel something hot and wet press against the cut.
It moves upward, revealing it to the cool air, and a dull, burning sensation takes over.
“I’d have savored every drop you bled for us...” he hums while slicing my thigh again. There’s another press of the warm wetness like before. Once, twice, then the cut is being suctioned.
My brain is still a little foggy, and I can’t figure out what Wesley’s doing. But as he does it again, I whimper, falling into the feeling of the pain quickly turning into pleasure.
Wesley does it again, and that’s when it hits me.
This man is drinking my blood like some kind of vampire.
And when I feel his teeth clamp down, biting hard enough to leave marks, I moan like a shameless whore, the pain only heightening the fucked up rush of pleasure that soaks my pussy.
I’m so lost in the feeling as he licks me again, and again, then makes another cut and quickly locks his lips around it, sucking hard.
The new sensation is completely different, I swear, I almost cum.
“You’re so fucked in the head,” Jasper muses, walking up to the table on my left side. “You should see your cunt right now, dripping like some sadistic slut.”
Turning my head to the side, I lay there, looking up at my masked monster as he surveys the tools in front of him.
“This is the way I like you, little toy. Defenseless, at our mercy, and where we can do anything we want with you.” At his words, I feel my juices leak out of my center, dripping down to my asshole.
I watch as Jasper picks up something from the tray. He holds it up, examining it.
It has an oval, bulbous, wooden handle that is coated in lacquer, with a metal rod that protrudes out of one end. At the end of the rod is a teal triangle with rounded corners.
Is that… is that a reflex hammer? What the hell is he going to tap with that?