I’ve never squirted before. But I can’t stop it. Everything inside me is unleashing. A creature shedding her skin and rising with new wings of pure fire.
On the dirty, bloody ground of a sex dungeon in an abandoned mine with five assholes gang-banging me, I feel the best high of my life—the heat of a dying supernova radiating through me, bursting in burning showers through my blood.
I barely register the ropes of their cum shooting all over me. My face, my hair, my breasts, my thighs, my back, and pussy. The vibrations have stopped, but my skin is still tingling, millions of smithereens of heat pricking everywhere.
They’ve wrecked me, ruined me for all others. I’m a wreckage of star matter surrounded by these dark gods.
I’ve died a thousand deaths. And come back with a thousand and one lives.
They all pull out at the same time, and I crash to the floor, covered in cum and blood.
“Finish it!” Raphael raises his voice. It echoes against the rocky walls of the cavern.
My eyes are still closed, my body curled up in a shaking, quaking fetal position, when the warm, wet currents spray my body, soaking every inch of me withgoldenheat. The degradation sends new dark shudders through me.
And then, Raphael is there. Gripping each side of my face with bruising fingers, forcing me to hold on for a few precious seconds longer, he breathes against me, “You are covered in us. We have baptized you. Our cum. Our sweat. Our blood. Our piss. Our essence. Every part of you. We have desecrated you, defiled you. Do you know what that means, Briella?”
He pauses, kissing my eyelids where his blood marks linger. “We are your skin, your flesh, your blood and bones. We are your soul matter. We do not simply possess you. You are possessed by us. Here there be Gods. You have become divine. You are no longer simply ours.
“So, tell me,” he growls against my mouth. “What the fuck are you, Briella?”
He kisses me again like a final punishing blow, the destruction of a woman, the rising of a goddess. And a crown slamming down on my head, bleeding me, scarring me. I’m still standing. Like a queen chess piece who’s survived the slaughter. The board is carnage. And the filth of them is my throne.
“I am…” The whisper leaves my throat as the blackness pulls me under. My eyes take in the sight of the demon gods all around me. Just as the pain swallows me into an all-eclipsing abyss, I finish in the greatest, ear-splitting scream I’ve ever heard. Thescream of some demonic beast erupting from the bowels of hell. “YOU!”
“Level 4.”
I black out.
16
Raphael
I HAVE A PURPOSE FOR HER.
Citizen Soldier Playlist
“Face to Face”
“The Devil”
Iadhere to a framework—not one of moral monstrosity but simply a different brand of monstrosity to prevent me from becoming the monsters who created our bond.
I am the only one here who was born a monster.
Jude, Vincent, Seth…were all made into monsters. Rory is half and half. But I am the Beast who overthrew the Devil and took his place on hell’s throne. The demons are mine to command.
And now, we finally have ourselves a little she-beast. And what a beautiful beast she is.
She’s still unconscious as Seth and Jude trade off with the hose on a gentler setting, washing away our essence, cleansing her from head to toe. Jude already injected her with a mild sedative—enough to keep her relaxed and under for an hour while we deal with things.
We already washed ourselves and cauterized any deep wounds. Scars upon scars. They do not simply heal. They remember. Within every one, her name is carved.
And our names are branded into her flesh forever.
“Think she can come like this?” Seth says with amusement in his voice.
I narrow my eyes as he trains the nozzle along the sweet, swollen nodule of flesh, still a beautiful shade of red from the Initiation. Her vulva, her pubic lips, and the heat of her vaginal channel—everything is a feast of flesh and fantasy, flushed and swollen, healthy with rosy labia.
