“Seriously,” I scoffed. “Not only must I take a virgin in front of you lot, but I also have to marry someone—”
“That’s enough,” he roared. Leaning closer, he grasped the front of my T-shirt. “Quit being a fucking pain in my arse and do as you’re told, boy, or trust me.” He paused his eyes steely glints, roved over my face. “I will lock you in that dungeon you seem to love for the rest of your miserable fucking life with nothing but your cock for company.” Releasing his grip, he stood back, glaring at me.
How was this man a father?
Edward took the mask from his hand and held it out to me, tipping his chin in a ‘take it’ gesture. Trying not to roll my eyes, I took the mask, examined the gray filigree design, different from his black one, and slipped it on.
“This as well.” Father held out a relatively large diamond attached to a necklace. I took it, lifting curious eyes to him. “Wear it. It’s important to the ritual.” Baffled, I slid it over my head, feeling the weight hit my chest with a soft thud. Offering no further explanation, Father walked me to the altar.
Edward opened an inner door, allowing three girls dressed in some white material to enter. Frowning, I searched my father’s face wondering if he expected me to fuck all three girls.
“Not that you deserve it, but you get a choice,” he answered my unasked question.
Unlike my full-faced mask with just the mouth and chin left open, the girls wore catlike guises over their eyes, concealing their identity as well. So if they didn’t know who they were fucking, what difference did it make over who I chose. Silently, I accepted it wasn’t worth arguing with him.
As they lined up in front of the altar, they removed the white covering and stood stark naked with their hands at their sides and eyes on me. The perks of having a way older brother, I’d fucked a few women, just not a virgin. Judging by their slim bodies, skinny legs, and barely-there breasts, these girls were either my age or probably younger.
Glancing at Edward, I sought his approval for whether this wasn’t a typical rape situation. I was young, not stupid. He dipped his head in encouragement.
Father released an irritated snort. “Get on with it then. If you’re unsure what to do, pick a girl, lay her flat on the altar, roll on the condom, jump up, and stick your dick in her. It’s that simple, Xavier.”
“You should teach sex education, Father. You’ll give holistic fucking, new meaning,” I snorted, hearing Edward’s chuckle.
Not giving Father a chance to argue, I took the hand of the girl whose brown eyes kept sending me some hidden message I felt drawn to. Whether it was fear, acceptance, or hesitation, I couldn’t tell. With my father hovering right on my arse, I couldn’t offer her any reassurance. Hoping she noticed my smile, I helped her up onto the altar.
“You’ve got five minutes. Think you can get off in that time,” Father asked, impatience lining his tone as he turned away to sit with Edward, who was looking at his phone.
Tempted to tell him to fuck off, I ignored my father. Dropping my pajama trousers, I climbed onto the altar and slipped between the girl’s widened legs. Just as I lined my cockhead with her pussy, I looked down at her. “I’m sorry,” I said, apologizing for the lack of emotion from my father.
I tried to be gentle as I could, but my father’s, “Jesus, Xavier, this isn’t your wedding night,” made me lose my cool, and I plunged in hard, feeling her resistance but not stopping.
Her cry told me I’d hurt her. Biting my lip to keep from cursing out loud, I avoided her eyes while I fucked her. Her whimpers, however, messed with my head, driving the force of my hard thrusts, consumed by her tightness.
Yet in my heart, I knew this was wrong. This was an act I’d never forget, an act steeped in such hate for my father I’d live to regret it. Curse or not, this so-called Brotherhood had become a fallacy-based desire to sick old men. They didn’t care about the women, and strangely, that didn’t sit right with me. And still, I’d allowed them to manipulate me into this deviant act I was trying not to enjoy. Was I just as perverse as the rest of my family?
“I’m sorry.” Five minutes later, I apologized again, lifting off her. This time for using her, for taking her innocence in such a jarring manner, for coming quickly and for it probably being the worst experience she’d endured. Surely, no girl would willingly sign up for this. And yet she’d offered herself to me without complaint. I climbed off the altar and turned to face her, letting my gaze connect with her red puffy eyes. The disgust I read there shattered my heart a little more. “I real—”
She sat up in a rush, one arm curving around her naked breasts, the other palm connecting with my face, catching me completely off guard. “You’re sick!” she yelled.
Despite my mask, I felt the intensity of the slap. She’d poured every ounce of hate into it. Instead of the calm I wanted, the anger, more for myself than her act, spurred me to life, and I lashed out. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” I ripped off her mask without thinking, her beauty stalling my breath.
She gasped, slapping a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide in fear darted to my father, I heard nearing us. At that moment, I knew this wasn’t what she’d been promised. Someone had lied to her. Before I could apologize, she jumped off the altar and raced for the inside door, slamming through it with a bang that resonated against the chapel walls.
“You’ve just broken a rule by removing her mask, Xavier,” Father’s hard words had me spinning around.
Breathing harshly, I glared at him, letting him feel the ferocity of my anger, showing him, I’d defy him at every turn. “So sue me,” I hissed, pushing out my chest, warning him to get the fuck off my back or there’d be hell to pay.
I must’ve startled him because the laugh slipping past his lips sounded nervous even though his eyes attempted to punish me. “Don’t think I’ve encountered such a dramatic exit at any previous rituals.” Not caring for his sudden placidity, I pulled off my mask. “Welcome to the Brotherhood, Xavier.”
“Hope you enjoyed the show because the only way you’re getting me on that altar again is if I’m a corpse,” I warned, not caring if he found my threat amusing. In the seconds he paused and, probably looking for an easy comeback, I asked, “how do we know if the curse is broken?”
“We don’t,” he replied, his hardened tone as flippant as mine.
I knew then that our end didn’t justify the means.
CouldIchange it?
