At least until Rex adds a fourth finger. A sharp cramp slices through me. I rise up to my elbows to watch him drive all his fingers into my sex. My mouth opens with an involuntary moan. He feeds the beak-shaped formation into my pussy, stretching the virgin-tight hole. His slick-coated glove slides in, more and more, until he must have a knuckle or two inside me. I’m so full. Heat blooms up from my core and fills my head with euphoria.
I’m keening.
“You’re doing so good for me.” He lets his hand retreat. “You take me so well.” He leans in and kisses me. His lips trace the tear tracks on my face. “You’re going to be a good girl and take all of me, aren’t you?”
I nod, undone. My body is overheated, coated in a sheen of sweat. He strips me of the robe and removes one more implement from his belt before he unbuckles it and lets it fall.
He replaces his fingers with a smooth dildo, long enough to bump my cervix. He adjusts a dial on his belt, and the toy begins to vibrate. I bite back a shout.
Then he smears more lube on the tight opening between my ass cheeks. I clench down, whimpering, but he forces a finger in. “This is mine, too,” he rasps. “You’re going to give it to me.”
I tuck my knees to my chest and try to give in. Between the dildo and now two fingers in my ass, I’m impossibly full. I bring my fingers to my breasts, stroking them, adding some pleasure to the cacophony of sensations in my body. The vibrator speeds up, and my climax swells.
And somehow, he’s freed his cock to probe my back entrance. My muscles burn as the head of his cock stretches me. He rocks into me in tiny thrusts, like he did last night when he took my other virginity.
“Please,” I mouth to him.
“Please, what? Please stop?” He pauses, and I have a chance to speak my safe word. Instead, I press my lips together, and he presses in, gaining another millimeter. “It’s too late for regrets, little bird. You know my secrets, all of them. Do you think I would let you go?”
I turn my face away, and he chuckles with cruel humor. “You meant to expose me. Don’t deny it. But my will will rule, and I mean for you to be mine.”
He rips off his gloves and helmet. It’s only Rex now, and I reach for him, murmuring his name.
“No, Swallow,” he says. “When I’m inside you here, you don’t use my name.” He produces a slim ring that glitters in the low light. I can’t tell what it is until he pushes back my hair and locks it around my neck.
In the screens above our heads, I see what I’m wearing. A collar.
“You will call me Master. And you will come when I tell you to come.”
Something in me gives way. He’s able to push all the way inside me as the vibrator reaches its highest setting. I reach for him, and he captures my wrists, pinning me in the way I like. The way I need.
In my mind’s eye, the shadows rear over us, cascading in layers of darkness, all-consuming.
“Come,” he orders me, and I do, clenching around the vibrator in my pussy and his cock in my ass. The climax obliterates my sight, my senses. There’s only my brutal Master leaning over me, telling me how beautiful I am. Gripping my hips hard enough to leave bruises, erupting inside me and setting off another round of orgasms. Leaving me satisfied and fully claimed.
Inara
I’m warm and safe,wrapped in a masked man’s arms. But a noise makes me rise out of the bed and walk out of the bedroom.
And then the bedroom and the man are gone. I’m walking up to a city brownstone flanked by maple trees where a few yellow leaves cling to the bare branches. I slip past the creaking gate and climb the brick steps. There are a few brown spots on the stoop. I pause, hearing the crackle of police radios behind me. But there’s no one around. I’m alone.
Someone put a fall-themed wreath on the front door. A touch of home, but the door has been left unlocked and ajar. I step up to it, and it swings open, revealing a long hallway and another set of stairs.
I can hear a terrible drip, drip, drip, growing louder. I know what left those brown spots on the stoop, but there’s nothing I can do with that knowledge.
I reach for my gun, but my holster is empty. I can’t stop for backup, though. I have to go on.
There’s a handprint smeared on the wall. It looks like a child’s finger painting until you smell the tang of rust.
And then I see it, pooled on the wooden steps, seeping out from under the rug.
Blood.
I know what happened here. I can sense the family that lived here—mother, father, two sons.
Without seeing, I know their bodies will be hogtied, the cords cutting into their flesh. I know how their eyes will stare at the ceiling, unseeing. I know their throats will be cut.
I know how this family died.
