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I will do it for more than one reason. Until the time comes to not do it anymore.
MILLIE
In a second, the tight grip around my thighs loosens. His body inches back, the tears that have escaped, now dry. “That was a warm-up. Next time, I won’t be as gracious. I’ll leave you with that,” he seethes.
Turning around, his back faces me. I scan over him, memorizing every inch of the man that has rattled me.
“Tripp? So that’s your name?” I whisper just before he hits the cell door, following behind the pack of upset masked men who didn’t get to “play”.
He turns, walking straight back to where I am until his chest slams against mine and air wheezes out of my chest. His arms come back to caging me between them, my back now stinging like sharp little daggers have lodged deep inside, courtesy of the rough concrete walls.
“My name?” he asks, grating his crotch against my stomach. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I apparently have to leave your virginity intact, because…” He pauses, and when I peer deep into his stormy grey eyes, they’re like hard cement blocks that have been set ablaze. “That doesn’t matter right now. You’ll find out soon enough. But let me get this straight, nun. I may have to keep your virginity intact, but I can think of one hundred and one other ways to have those white panties you’re wearing drowning in your own cum and your tight little cunt craving for my cock to rip through that little hymen you have between your legs.”
He pauses and I wet my lips with my tongue, running over their sudden dryness. His eyes follow the movement closely and he presses into me again, his thick bulge pushing against my stomach.
“Wanna know what I’d do?” he questions, and I don’t want to know, but I have a feeling this isn’t a question. His masked face drops to my ear again as his hips slowly circle against me. “I’d rip those panties off and run my tongue all over that wet arousal you left in them before I’d circle your clit like a fucking halo of the angel you were, and replace them with the devil horns you will become. You’d fuck my tongue until your sweet release is seeping into the pores of my face, until your fucking virginity splits open from how hard my tongue is pounding into you, owning you, and I’d suck up every bit of evidence that ever showed you were innocent.”
My eyes close, my fingers trembling in horror.
He finishes. “Next time, I’ll be laying you flat on your back and showing you all the different ways a tongue can be used that doesn’t involve praying your Hail-Fucking-Mary’s.” I feel as though the crucifix that’s chained around my neck has caught ablaze at the mere proximity of him. His hands push off the wall and he steps back. “You need to be trained.” Then he spins around and walks out the cell door.
With the heavy sliding of the metal bars slamming shut, I slide down the wall until my bottom lands on the cold cement floor where I curl up and let my sobs be the lullaby that pulls me into a deep sleep.
MILLIE
Prickles of one hundred needles pierce my face, and I toss my head from left to right, attempting to shake the feeling. Wetness pours down my neck and slowly my consciousness returns. My eyes snap open from the ice cold water and onto the familiar deep stormy depths of nothingness. Pushing off the concrete floor with my hands, I bring myself to my feet, my hair clinging to my face in sticky wet strands that fall around my shoulders.
“You just threw water on me?” I ask, noticing his ripped, worn jeans and how the black t-shirt he’s sporting today displays his embossed muscles. An array of tattoos cover both his arms, disappearing under the sleeves of his shirt. Another man walks in, his face covered in a blood red mask with a white line that goes down the middle. His body isn’t as thick as Tripp’s, but the way he carries himself seems to throw up enough warning signs. My silk white blouse now clings to my chest, displaying my plain cotton bra.
Red mask walks toward me until the tip of his boot connects with mine. His hand flies up to my neck as he pushes my back against the wall. His grip around me tightens while his other hand finds my center and strokes violently in pressured, circular motions over my clit. A low grunt vibrates over my skin from his groan as the hand that was around my throat drops to the buttons on my blouse.
“Your training starts now. You’re going to learn how to behave like a good little whore.” Words die in my throat as his fingers dive into the cup of my bra and grate over my nipple. “That feel good, nun?” he taunts.
My eyes remain closed. This isn’t happening.
“Answer me!” he roars, his pinching intensifying until a sharp sting burns on the tip on my nipple. He just cut my nipple! His hand disappears under his mask as the sound of suction breaks the unknown silence. “Mmmm,” he groans seductively. “The blood of a virgin.”
His hand grips tightly around my blouse until he rips it off, throwing it to the ground, and I’m left standing in my slacks and white cotton bra. The breast that he had just assaulted is exposed to the cool air, sending another sharp pang shooting through it.
He steps back, his face tilting. “I’ve seen better, but nothing is more priceless than a virgin. Your virginity may need to stay in check…” His eyes darken as the word “virgin” leaves his mouth. He comes back towards me, his hand sliding behind my back where he unhooks my bra, keeping his dark eyes trapped with mine. “But you will need training in all other aspects we deem fit, and I’m your day one, nun,” he announces, watching me. He throws his head over his shoulder. “Black mask? He’s your day two.”
The light material of my bra had now completely fallen off my body, joining my blouse on the dirtridden ground.
“White mask? Day three,” he continues, his knuckles skimming down my erect nipples courtesy of the cool, empty air. “Blue mask? Day four.” My eyes drift to the man standing near the door in a blue mask. His hair trails down to his wide shoulders as he leans against the metal cell. “Day five goes to grey mask.” He drops his head down to the crook of my neck. “You get the one and only executioner on day six, because he likes them trained well, and you need warming up for him,” he trails, his fingers gripping around my upper thighs as he wraps them around his hips. “Guess what happens on day seven, nun?” he whispers so harshly, I flinch. “You. Get. Us. All.”
The cool winter night whisked around the golden archway that lead into the armory on base. Kurr knew it was a risk, but it was a risk he was willing to take. This baby had to be welcomed in the right way, the way he knew was only fitting. The mesh veil which was draped over the lean frame of a petite woman walked through the doors, clutching a baby in her arms. Kurr stepped backwards from the podium and began to walk towards her.
“Don’t,” she hissed. “This isn’t what I wanted.” Her whispers were loud pleads, but Kurr didn’t care; he had a plan. This was a part of his plan all along. The veiled woman had a brain that was far too important to lose. With her intelligence and his power, this baby would grow to be the soldier he should be.
“This is his life,” Kurr clarified, stepping into the woman’s space. His soldiers surrounded his back, they were new but they would learn. Beast, the child who was born here, was growing every day. Every breath he took was that of Army air. He was going to be indestructible; it’s why Kurr named that child Beast.
“Kurr,” the woman whispered. “You have Beast. Please leave this one be. Let him be raised in a life that is away from this.” She pleaded from behind the white veil which hid her face. Kurr didn’t care for the baby to be raised outside of the walls in The Army; he had bigger plans for this kid, and no one was going to know about these plans until he saw fit.
“I will have them both,” Kurr grunted. “Yes, I will have them both,” he repeated as his eyes set into stone. “I will raise a breed of them, like a pack.” Kurr nodded as the wheels in his brain began to turn. He had a perfect plan. He wanted a group of men who were similar to the legendary Four Horsemen, only he wouldn’t have four; he’d have six. Where the four Horsemen rode on red, white, black, and pale horses, his would have distinctive masks, made from steel to cover their identity. Kurr smirked as his plan unraveled inside his brain slowly.
“The 6,” he announced, his eyes snapping to the woman in front of him whose identity he wanted to keep hidden…for now.
MILLIE Present “Day 1”
