When the Dark Wins

This would never be okay. She would never submit. She would never call either of these bastards Master. No matter how good they made her feel. No matter how much they made her hurt.

I’m a person. I’m still me. Fuck. I’m going to come.

The orgasm had crept past the ruins of her self-control as she’d focused on the collar, on reminding herself of her promises, but now it was threatening in blinding colors. Thighs trembling, body tense, she tried to stop it, but he swiveled his hips and thrust hard just as he pinched her clit — and she was gone.

Moaning into the bed as molten light careened through her nervous system and washed away reality once more. It felt good, too incredible after he’d hurt her so much. Her body was desperate for the pleasure, devouring it like it was starving and he was still thrusting as her pussy clenched and squeezed in waves, dragging out the orgasm until she was limp and sweating. Gasping, mewling, heart hammering a staccato on the inside of her ribs.

He slid from the soaking mess between her thighs — all her, because she had never felt him come. A hard slap on her ass woke up the welts, pain making the orgasm stutter. “What did I say about asking permission?”

I’m sorry.

That was what the other one would want to hear, even if she didn’t mean it. This one? He only wanted one word from her.

“Greedy little whore.” His large palms squeezed her backside, making her whimper as the welts protested and he pulled her cheeks apart. “You like it, don’t you… you wanna take it? You wanna take my cock some more?”

Beth arched as he pressed against her ass, shaking her head, but his hands found her hips again and he ripped her open in one vicious stroke. She screamed against the bed, pleading for him to stop, but he pulled back and it felt like a hot knife being drawn out, and then re-sheathed as he thrust forward. An impossible pain.

“Oh, fuck, yes.” He groaned as he tore her apart, hips pistoning with unrelenting strokes. “Take it, slut. This is all you’re meant for, all you’re good for. Just a set of fucking holes.”

Sobbing, back muscles spasming, Beth tried to stop herself from screaming again, but it was useless. She screamed for him, again and again.

Pain, panic, all pleasure gone like smoke.

Nothing but agony.

And then he forced himself deep, teeth clamping down on the flesh over her ribs as he came. Squirming, she tried not to tighten down because it only hurt worse, sobbing as the torment of his bite refused to let her dissolve, pass out, escape.

He pulled out, ripping her head up by her hair, and she saw the rage still simmering in his eyes, even with the manic smile on his lips. “Was it good for you?” he asked, and then he spat into her face.

She felt something crumple inside just before he dropped her back to the bed. The dull sounds of him gathering his clothes faded into the background noise of her pain, and when the door finally shut Beth let the tremors in her body takeover.

It took a few tries, a few weak screams into the sheet, but she finally lifted one knee onto the bed and managed to shift her body completely onto it. Arms still behind her back, she ignored the meager throb of her shoulder as she curled into a ball on her side. This was definitely hell, and there were two devils, not one.

And each day she was discovering a new level of suffering. A new low.

Accepting a new thought as an absolute truth…

I’m going to die here.

10

“Well, that went well.” Anthony spoke from the door, his eyes glued to the phone in his hands.

“Fuck you,” Marcus growled, pouring another inch of scotch before he downed it on a hiss.

A low sound came from his brother, almost a laugh, and his fingers tightened threateningly around the brittle glass. When he walked forward, taking slow measured steps, Marcus forced himself to set the empty drink down before he shattered it, or threw it at the asshole. Anthony stopped about ten feet to his left, as if he could sense the threat, floating at the edge of his peripheral vision. “I’m sure you noticed, but she did not call you Master.”

“I noticed.”

“You know what that means then?” The cold calm of the question only fueled Marcus’ rage, hand shaking with it as he grabbed the bottle of scotch and poured again.

Watching the amber liquid splash, he kept his eyes there, not daring to look at Anthony until he had his temper in check. “Yeah, I do.”

A burning swallow, and then another, but it was Anthony’s huff of breath that made his muscles twitch.

Raising his eyes he pointed at him with the hand holding the glass. “You did something to her. I know you did.”

“Review the recordings if you think so, but I did exactly as we agreed. I took her down from the suspension, I fed her, and I put her in bed. For you.” The casual lift of his shoulder was the only reaction his brother gave. “It’s not my fault you failed.”