In the next room, rows of stainless-steel drawers stretch along both walls. An examination table occupies the center, its surface gleaming under the lights, with a tray of instrumentsnext to it—scalpels, forceps, clamps—all clearly fake, but convincing enough to make bile rise in my throat.
My stomach turns.
“Oh, no,” I whisper.
A sign hangs crookedly above the doorway, telling me I’m in the morgue.
I step inside on shaking legs, and the door swings shut behind me with a soft click.
“This isn’t funny,” I whisper to the empty room. “Elias… please.”
The lights flicker as I carefully walk forward, closer to the examination table. It feels like someone could have performed a vivisection five minutes ago. Morbidly curious, I press my palm against the cold steel.
With an ominous clang, the lights go dark.
14
ELIAS
It’s been fun watching Jules stumble through the Haunted House. Her shrieks and gasps of fear brought my dick back to life in record time. I’m already throbbing for her by the time I lock her into the morgue.
“E—Elias?” she breathes, her bare feet nearly soundless as she shuffles around the examination table. “Are you here?”
Interesting. It’s almost like she’s afraid of the unknown more than she is of me. We can’t have that, can we?
I flick a switch to turn on some of the flickering ambient lights, then press on the access panel. A row of fake morgue drawers swings out, and I finally see my jewel without screens between us.
Her brown eyes are wide and aimed at me, her mouth softly open in surprise.
“What?” I ask with a chuckle. “You were just calling out for me. Did you really think I wasn’t watching you on security monitors this whole time?”
“Please. Just let me go,” Jules begs. “I’ll do anything you want.”
I lift an eyebrow and tilt my head, regarding her curiously.
“Anything?”
“Anything,” she confirms, her fingers curling into claws where her hand rests against the examination table.
Grinning, I nod at her clothes. “Take that off and hop onto the table.”
Jules blinks at me. “Wha—what?”
“You heard me,” I drawl, thoroughly enjoying this. I examine my nails and buff them against my suit jacket. “On all fours.”
I can see the wheels turning in her head. Watch her trying to decide what’s worth her freedom. In the end, either her sense of preservation or the desire she can’t seem to fight wins over, and her hands move to the bottom of her top. She grabs the hem and pulls it up and over her head slowly, in a way that’s inadvertently sensual. When she shimmies out of the ruined lace panties, I can’t pretend I’m not immersed in her movements anymore.
“Good girl,” I whisper, my hands going to the waistband of my pants. “Up you go.”
Jules glances at the examination table, her upper lip curling. I don’t bother telling her that it’s cleaned every night once the carnival closes for visitors. Let her visualize the filth.
She climbs up haltingly, giving me another lingering look before turning her back to me and kneeling on all fours. I pull my dick out and stroke it, watching her ass part to show me that tight rosebud, her perky tits hanging toward the table, her chin quivering with uncertainty as she waits for my next move, exposed and vulnerable.
Opening a hidden supply drawer, I take out a bottle of oily fake blood. I can’t wait to prep her ass with the dark red substance, watch it cover my dick as I fuck her.
“Do you like getting your ass fucked, Little Sapphire?” I ask her as I position myself within reach. I shake the bottle and open it, squirting the viscous liquid into my palm. “Like getting that tight hole stretched by a thick cock?”
“I… Y—yes,” she says, surprising me. “I love anal.”
