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“Next lesson. You need to learn how to please a man,” he says, pressing his thickness into me. Dropping down to the concrete on his knees, his hands grip around the back of my legs before he pulls them open wide and rests between them. My lip trembles in fear as more tears drop down my cheeks. Inhaling deeply, he runs the tip of his nose up my neck. Chuckling, he stands back to his feet, looking down at me. I swallow and keep my eyes glued onto the ceiling. Dropping his jeans and briefs, his hand clamps down tightly around his length and I squeeze my eyes closed.
He laughs. “Closing your eyes isn’t going to do shit, nun.”
Opening them slowly, I’m greeted by his muscled legs standing strong with veins pulsing up and down his thick arms and eventually landing on the hands he has around himself.
“Like what you see, nun?” he questions, his head tilting to the side as he continues to slowly stroke himself. A light bead of clear liquid surfaces on the tip of him and I can’t help but be fascinated by it to a certain extent. Penis’ not very nice looking. In fact, I’d go as far as to say they’re ugly. But there is one thing I have noticed in the time I’ve been here: All the men I have met are built lean and big. Much like Hella and Beast, Kurr must like his soldiers beefy.
Yanking me to my feet, he pushes me hard until my back hits the wall behind me. My eyes roll to the back of my head slightly.
“What?” I whisper, running my tongue across my cracked lips. I bring a hand up to my head that now ached from being smacked against the wall. He stills, his other hand coming to the back of my neck before pushing me down onto my knees and into his groin. I slam my mouth shut, so he lowers himself until the black mask is a centimeter from mine. I bring my eyes up slowly over the sleek matte black steel and eventually into the fiery grey eyes that are slicing straight through me. “Play nice, nun. You won’t like us much if you don’t.”
“What do you all want from me?” I ask, my tone kicking to a dangerous level.
“Us?” he points to his chest. “Nothing personally, but Kurr? He has a whole lot of plans for your saving grace, so it’s better, for your sake, that you warm up with us.” He pauses before a slight chuckle leaves him. “I would say that you could have it worse, but you really couldn’t. Buckle up, sister.”
He pulls my head back towards him again, the hard yet soft skin rubbing against my dried lips. Do I fight it? Or is he right, will that make it worse? I don’t think I could handle worse, so I slowly open my lips, allowing him to slip inside of my warm enclosure. My stomach recoils as I attempt to block out everything that’s happening. The mixture of fresh soap and salt hits the back of my throat as the head of his cock rubs over the top of my mouth.
Wrapping my hair around his fist, he tugs on it roughly. “Teeth!” he commands, his head tilting back. I peer up at him, scanning over his chiseled chest and stomach up to where his mask ends to see the beginning of his jaw line. He has a five o’clock shadow from what I’m able to see. The tip of him dips to the back of my throat and I fight the urge to spew up everywhere. I don’t like this. His grip around my hair gets tighter until the pricking of my hair being slowly pulled from their follicles ripples through my skull. My knees burn from being submitted to them on the grainy concrete ground, and his thrusting intensifies while his breathing shallows. I bare my teeth until they grit over his swollen head and thick length and a loud hiss escapes him just as hot liquid shoots to the back of my throat, sliding down without permission. I swallow it all quickly and then start to freak out. Was I supposed to swallow that? Was it even edible? Crap.
He pushes my face back until my butt hits the floor and my back connects with the cold brick wall. Buckling up his belt, he bends down to face me, his fingers wrapping around my chin and tilting my face up to his. “You’ll learn how to survive through what you’re about to go through, nun. You think this is bad? The 6 have nothing on what you’re about to face. You’re better to let go of all that holy bullshit inside of you now, because I’ll tell you something, baby. You walk through a church after we’re done with you, and you’ll burst into flames.” He drops my head and a sob escapes my mouth. He leaves the cell, leaving me to my empty thoughts and the whispers of the cold dead cell. Every day that slips by, I lose hope. I’m losing the fight.
“No, Kurr,” Courtney argued, her feet walking up and down the laboratory. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this anymore.” Kurr stepped up to Courtney’s worried face and gripped his fingers around hers roughly, pulling her little body against his.
“You will, Courtney. You know what will happen if you defy me or our cause.”
“You can’t, I can’t…” Courtney exhaled her breath of defeat, her shoulders falling. “You can’t hurt my boy, Kurr, you promised.”
Kurr chuckled. “I’ll keep that promise to you, Courtney. You just make sure you play a good little lab rat and I’ll make sure no one harms your precious Beast.”
Little pitter patter of muddy boots sounded through the empty halls outside the lab and Courtney tensed. The door swung open and a little blond boy with a sun-kissed tan and dark stormy grey eyes stepped toward her with his arms up. Courtney dropped to her knees and scooped the sweet child into her embrace, inhaling his innocent smell in the crook of his neck. “I love you. Mommy will always protect you. You and your brother.”
My eyes peel open to another day where I’m greeted with the unfamiliar surroundings of a chilled cell. The walls inside of my brain are closing in and my skin burns from being soiled for what feels like too long. The cell door shrieks open loudly, pulling me out of my thoughts as I nibble on my lip nervously. Rocking softly in the darkest corner of this enclosure, I realize what I’m doing: I’m trying to survive. I’m now battling with myself to keep sane. I’ve been touched in ways one should only ever be touched by their husband, or at least, by someone who you equally want, too. Am I already a lost cause? Could what they have in plan for me really be something that horrible? On any other week I would doubt that, but after what I’ve already been put through, I’m in no position to call anyone’s bluff. Heavy military boots come into sight, scuffed and dirty, well-worn. Tripp drops a warm bucket of soapy water onto the floor in front of my face. My shoulders wince at the sharp bang of the bucket connecting with the ground.
“Get up.” A slightly familiar yet chillingly cold voice follows that makes my eyes twitch and my heart rate pick up to a terrifying pace. Out of all the masked men I’ve seen, this is the one who terrifies me to my core. “I won’t repeat myself, pet. Get the fuck up.”
With heavy movements, my body obeys his command. Dropping to his knees in front of me, my eyes remain trained on the floor in submission. My long blonde hair is now dirty and knotted, hanging over my shoulders and falling messy over my face, and I can still taste black mask in my mouth while still feeling red mask’s fingers penetrating inside of me.
I place my hand into the warm soapy water, the temperature bringing me temporary comfort. My hands tingle with glee as I wrap my fingers tightly around the thick sponge I find floating inside the soapy mess. Squeezing out the excess, I slowly lift the sponge out of the water and begin rubbing it in circles over my arm. My eyes close and my head tilts back slightly as I bring the sponge toward my neck and squeeze some of the heavenly water down until it trickles over my collar bone and over my bare breast, leaving a chill in its place over my nipple. A moan of appreciation slips from my tongue while I’m lost in the refreshing comfort from the water dripping down my nakedness. A low growl booms through the room and I pause my washing to notice the same boots still in my vision. He hasn’t moved; he’s still kneeling in front of me.
“Look at me.” His voice isn’t bad. It’s evil, dark, filthy, and it penetrated my very existence. I continue to stare at his boots until I slip my eyes up further, until they rest at his knees which are covered in worn denim jeans. “Look. At. Me … pet,” he repeats, his tone deadly.
I succumb, raising my eyes past the black shirt he’s wearing which is rolled to his elbows, showcasing the ink he’s sporting on both of his lean arms. Veins ripple under his tanned flawless skin. I need to see who it is beneath the mask. My eyes continue to travel up his tattooed neck until I stop at the rim of his steel mask. The right side of it is artistically designed to look as though part of his cheek and mouth had been ripped off.
Exhaling, I dip the sponge back into the water, attempting to use the silky calmness of the soapy liquid to distract me. I place the sponge on my thigh and begin rubbing it in circular motions just as our eyes connect, his stormy grey eyes meeting my turquoise ones, where a tornado meets the Atlantic Ocean and where Heaven meets Hell. My head tilts as I ignore the fluttering that’s happening deep in my gut, but at the same time, my skin crawls with fear. His eyes narrow on me, looking right through me as if he’s conjuring something to pop out of my body. “Don’t ever moan like that again.” He grips my knees, spreading them open wide. The sudden stretch is uncomfortable, but I submit nevertheless. Running his eyes down my naked chest, I attempt to slam my knees closed again, not liking how little control I have. His eyes snap back up to mine and narrow in warning, so I relax slightly, not wanting to push him. His head tilts while his eyes seep over my core and butterflies erupt inside of me, as a loud throb starts an aching rhythm. My eyes dart from left to right, confusion taking up most of the space in my head again.
Why me?
What is he doing to me?
“He make you come?” he asks profoundly. I don’t answer. I’m too busy watching how he watches me. “Answer me!”
“Wh—who?” I stutter through a tight undertone.
“Joker. Or, day one. He make you come?” he repeats, his hands slowly traveling up my inner thighs until they’re resting at the apex.
My breathing shallows. Why would he ask this question?
“Yes,” I lie, because if I told him no, he might tell Joker, and then what? Then I’ll have to endure him again? No. I’ll risk a small lie.
