CagedBird
Deeper, please. I don’t want to breathe unless you allow it. Make me suffer for you, Master.
My lungs are burning. I’m not breathing, my body bending to his will even though he’s nothing more than words on a screen.
GentAnon
Swallow everything I give you, and come for me. Now, little dove.
I shatter at the barest brush of my fingers over my swollen clit. Ecstasy crashes through me in vicious waves, and I bite down on my other fist to hold back a scream.
In this moment of cruel bliss, I’m stripped down to my most primal, perverted self. Tears slip down my cheeks as I sob my release. Deep in my soul, I know that this is where I belong: alone in the dark with my shameful secrets.
What am I doing?
I came while I was violated last night, and now I’m seeking to relive the same thrill with my sexy pen pal.
This isn’t a distraction. It’s not catharsis.
It’s a sick compulsion.
I’ve made myself a magnet for predatory men. They must be able to sense that some part of me wants it. My filthy messages with GentAnon are proof of that.
I swallow against the burn at the back of my throat and snap my laptop closed. My phone immediately pings with an alert. GentAnon has sent me another message.
I scramble to my feet and stumble toward my beloved easel, moving through my small apartment in a drunken lurch. The soft glow of my lamps doesn’t fully illuminate the space, but it’s only right for me to paint this forbidden scene while cloaked in shadow.
My brush moves over the blank canvas in feverish strokes. A macabre white skull coalesces on my canvas, and striking green eyes blaze from its black sockets.
8
DANE
“You’ll bail me out if I get caught?” The thief swipes sweat from his tanned brow, which is too youthful to show any signs of age. He can’t be more than twenty, but he’s already chosen a life of crime. I found him dealing drugs to a couple of kids younger than he is.
Even if I possessed a conscience, it would be at peace; manipulating this little shit doesn’t bother me in the slightest.
“You won’t get caught,” I say, more of a threat than a reassurance. I’ve made it clear that there will be consequences if he goes blabbing to the cops. “And what I’ve already paid you is more than enough to cover any bail. You’ll get the other half after.”
His tongue darts out to lick his thin, chapped lips—a sign of nervousness or greed?
It doesn’t matter. He’s a means to an end.
“Remember,” I add coolly. “You don’t know me. You’ve never seen my face.”
He swallows hard when I flip the knife in an idle threat and deftly catch the hilt. His shaved head bobs in a frantic nod.
“I remember,” he agrees quickly, voice cracking slightly. “I just want my money.”
I close the switchblade and tuck it out of sight with a sigh before flashing the wad of cash in my wallet. “This is yours. After you finish the job.”
His brown eyes are huge, and I swear he’s salivating at the sight of the hundred-dollar bills.
“I’ll see you in the market at noon. Wait for my signal.”
He nods again. “You got it, boss.”
My lip curls in contempt at his obsequious reply. I command respect, but I’ve had enough bowing and scraping to last a lifetime.
